Lessons I Learned About People’s Inborn Helpfulness
When my pastor asked me to sing How Great Thou Art as a solo on the Sunday TV program. I had never sung on TV, but I agreed since I had sung that hymn in church as a bass solo.
Arriving at the station, I stood in front of a camera and microphone, looking around at the welter of television studio equipment all around me. Then, bright lights came on, and the director cued the pianist, who played the introductory chords. I sang, looking straight ahead into the camera, and finished the first verse and chorus, then glanced to one side and suddenly saw the side of my head on a television monitor.
The shock of unexpectedly seeing myself, but not as in a mirror, drove the words of the next verse right out of my mind. The pianist played a line of the first, then repeated the last part of the chorus. When she started the verse again, the lines popped back into my mind, and I successfully finished singing all the verses. That experience taught me to always have the words of the song on a piece of paper in my hand.
At my summer job, the foreman said, “Hey Jack, I saw you on TV yesterday. I enjoyed the whole program.” When I apologized for messing up the solo, he looked blankly and said, “I never noticed anything wrong. You did great!” I learned two lessons: always have the words of the song on paper in my hand, and people sometimes don’t even notice mistakes, so don’t bring them up.
I learned another lesson during the years I spoke at many fund-raising banquets for Wycliffe. One time, an elderly man fell asleep and slid down off his chair. Someone grabbed him before he hit the floor, but everyone’s attention was on that drama. When things quieted down and all eyes were back on me, I had no idea where I was in my story. I asked, “Where was I?” Someone in the audience shouted, “I heard a knock on the door,” and I continued my speech.
Where was I?
In another city, I was speaking to a crowded gymnasium when suddenly everyone looked to my left. I turned to see a woman at a back door, pantomiming a heart attack, then running to a woman in the audience. I heard, “Come, bring your purse. Your husband needs the nitroglycerin pills; he’s having angina pains.” After both women had left, I asked, “What story was I telling?” and someone shouted, “The boy who got bitten by a snake!”
These incidents taught me that the audience is always ready to help me get back on track. It increases their interest, making them feel like active participants rather than just passive listeners.
People are helpful, and not just audiences. We all need help at times. For the past months, I have been learning to shop for groceries. I often ask people around me where I might find things. If they know, they are always quick to help. Asking for help develops a humble spirit. I notice this especially when I need to ask our grandkids for help. They are far smarter about smartphones and computer programs than I am.
Asking them for help makes them feel honoured. As believers, we know that God, also, is honoured when we ask Him for help.
As usual, I am taking a summer break from writing the InSights and OutBurst blog. I’ll be back in early September, and hope to meet your all here again then.
