The teenagers didn’t know they were being watched. They didn’t know that, across the road, a dark gaze was laser-focused in their direction.
All they knew was the intense concentration of lock-stepping across the practice field with feet thumping and legs pumping. They were in full marching band regalia, all eyes on the director.
Balanced on a rough-cut stump a few hundred feet away, a young migrant worker was taking a break from his work of harvesting tobacco under a skin-scorching Carolina sun. He had seated himself so that he was turned away from the rows of dirt that made up the narrow boundaries of his life. He was turned toward the dream he had no hope of achieving.
As I hurried by on the road between the marching field and the tobacco field, I only had time for the briefest glimpse at the young man. But no second glance was needed to comprehend the look of naked yearning as he marked the progress of a hundred students his age preparing to march into the next football game and the next year of school. From there, they would disappear into a future brighter than the searing sun he sat under.
I imagine that most of those students had no idea how blessed they were. Sure, they had difficult homework, relationship issues, summer job concerns, and worries about scholarships and colleges. But those things they were viewing as problems were actually opportunities—opportunities they may not have given a second thought to.
The boy on the stump. The kids in the field. All of them at the same stage of life.
Most of them marching off into a promising future–flags waving, horns blaring, hope held high.
But one of them?
One of them got up from his rough stump and trudged back into a future where each day would unfold exactly like the day before it. He had no flags to wave, no hopes to trumpet. Just an unblinking sun and an unrelenting harvest, and the bleak, sad sameness of a thousand days passing.
Without even knowing it, that young man preached to me a powerful and poignant sermon.
The sermon said, “Yes, life is complicated and challenging and busy. It’s full of decisions, distractions, and unexpected happenings. But all those decisions and choices that make life complicated are also the things that represent freedoms and opportunities.”
That young man preached one of the best sermons ever written, a sermon preached simply by the longing on his face for the basic blessings he might never have.
And he’ll never know that his sermon aimed itself straight at me. A middle-aged, middle-class woman hurrying by in her comfortable, air-conditioned car–-over blessed and under thankful.
It was a sermon I will never forget, a sermon shared by a preacher without a voice.
A sermon on a stump.
Loved it then, love it now!
Love, Deb
Thanks, Deb. Glad to hear it!
Becky, As I always remind myself, “It’ll happen when it’s supposed to”. The timing of this sermon was perfect. Really needed to hear these words after the week, months I’ve been having. So very lucky to live the life I do. Thanks bunches for the reminder, Karen
Karen,
So thankful for perfect timing and so glad this post arrived in your life at just the right time. Thanks for letting me know
Wow! Perfect timing for this lady right here writing this – so needed to hear that sermon today. Thank you.
Mary,
I’m so thankful when wonderful readers like you take the time to let me know something I wrote was meaningful. Thank you!
Wonderful. Am going to use this on my son next time he carps about homework and going to school at the private Christian school he goes to, that we manage to scrape together tuition for him to attend. He doesn’t complain much, and realizes how lucky he is most of the time, but occasionally needs this kind of reality check!
Melissa,
Sounds like you’re blessed with a great son and he’s blessed with a great mom. We all need that reality check at one point or another.
Becky! What an incredible piece of writing this is! The work of a genuine “Word Smith” – no pun; pure truth! Loved this!
Sheri,
Thank you, friend! Your words encouraged me.
I don’t remember reading this either but very well written and a great message.
Thank you, Phyllis. I had sort of forgotten about it until a couple days ago and thought the message was certainly worth re-writing and re-posting.
Beautifully written Becky. This is something that I need to get my children to read. It is funny how sometimes we think that we are so hard done by and all it takes is a Sermon on a Stump to put everything in perspective. Thank you for sharing this.
Mel,
Yes, I think this is a good lesson for kids to be reminded about–and we grown ups, too! Thanks for being so encouraging.
We are so blessed and many times forget God’s goodness to us. Thanks, Becky.
Ann,
So true . . . there are so many blessings we don’t even think about.
Ann,
So true . . . so many blessings we don’t even think about.
Thanks for the reminder
Tammy,
Definitely one we all need–and me especially!
Love this post and the reminder. You really do have such a wonderful way with words. 🙂
Thank you, LeeAnne. Your encouragement means a lot!
excellent post AND a reminder of how blessed we are
Becky,
Yes. Beyond blessed.
I don’t remember reading this before. Great.
Steve,
It’s been quite awhile since I first posted it.
Oh, what a beautiful way you write, Becky. So grateful for your words, and for you taking the time to notice and share what is often overlooked. This young man has no idea his effect on you, and those you have shared this with. I would wonder about his back-story, what got him here, and what about his family. We are truly blessed to be HERE – all of us reading your posts right now are likely to have roofs over our heads, or devices that keep us connected to those we love. Thank you for reposting this.
Ann,
You’re right–that young man never knew he was going to be so influential in the lives of those of us who need to hear his story. Thanks for your sweet words.