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| A less than flattering picture for a less than flattering moment. This is photo is of the actual sermon in which I ran afoul of good sense. Who knows it might have even been the very moment when I firmly planted my foot in my mouth! |
“Sean, nobody talks as much as you do.” So said my 8th grade teacher, Mr. Grant, and I have to admit he’s probably right. For me talking is as easy as breathing. Whether holding court in conversation or speaking to a crowd from the front of the room, talking is my talent. You would think that someone who talks as much as I do has many examples of verbal indiscretions--those moments where you say something and immediately your face feels prickly and hot as you ask yourself “Why on earth did I just say that.” Open mouth, insert foot. It happens to the best of us, and it stands to reason that it would happen to someone like me more than most.
But another thing about me is that I’m very careful with the words I use. I rarely speak carelessly without carefully considering how my words will be received. I may talk a lot but I don’t shoot from the hip. So when I had to think about the worst time I’d ever put my foot in my mouth, I not only couldn’t come up with the worst time, I couldn’t think of any time. I knew that couldn’t be true--so I turned to the one person who would certainly be able to remind me of a time I’d put my foot in my mouth: my wife.
I asked Barbara if she could think of a time when I’d said something I shouldn’t have to the embarrassment of myself and others. And eventually she came up with an incident. And honestly, I’d thought of that incident immediately when I read today’s prompt, but I felt I dared not write about it. After all I’d embarrassed my lovely wife once before, surely she wouldn’t want me to rehash it again. But she insisted I tell the story in full, making sure my readers understood exactly how clueless I had been.
As I’ve continued to reflect, I’ve realized that actually I put my foot in my mouth a lot with Barbara. As recently as today I’ve spoken carelessly to her and immediately realized the words that exited my mouth were foolishness. Granted, most of the time these ill-chosen words happened just between us but on occasion I’ve brought my foolhardy tongue out in public. One particularly egregious incident is the subject of this post:
In the spring of 2014 my family and I returned to Saipan where we’d spent eleven years as missionaries. I had been invited to be the Week of Prayer speaker for the Saipan SDA School and my family joined me for the journey back to our island home. It was a fantastic week. It was such a pleasure to spend time with old friends and see all the familiar places we’d loved. I spoke a lot that week. Vespers the first Sabbath there, two stories for the preschool daily during week of prayer, as well as the talks to the elementary school, and the Sabbath morning sermon at the end of the week at the Central Saipan SDA Church. It was during that Sabbath morning sermon that I committed my faux pas; and I didn’t even realize I’d said anything out of line at first.
Barbara hadn’t been feeling well that morning and hadn’t come to church with me. It seemed like I should provide some brief explanation to the congregation about her absence. Of course it wasn’t in my prepared notes, but I thought I’d mention in passing the reason for her absence. In hindsight, I don’t know why I didn’t simply leave it at “Barbara isn’t feeling well this morning, and will hopefully get here later in the service.” But for whatever reason I decided to go this route instead:
“Good morning church, and happy Sabbath. It’s been such a joy and privilege to be back here on our island home ministering, and worshiping here with you on Sabbath morning. I know many of you are probably wondering where Barbara is this morning, and I’m sad to report that she isn’t feeling well. I don’t think it’s that serious, most likely it’s just a bad case of gas. But do keep her in your prayers. Today I’d like to talk about. . . “
And I went on with my sermon. If I’d been paying attention, I might have noticed a few gasps of horror in the audience, some uncomfortable titters, women looking at each other aghast at this clown at the podium. I went on, oblivious, and it was only when church was over that it was brought to my attention that I’d stepped in it--seriously.
Barbara had actually arrived at church and was in the mother’s room with Ezra when my sermon began. She heard me sharing her gastrointestinal challenges with the entire church and was appalled. She wanted to join the rest of the church for our last time of worship together before we returned to the States, but felt sure all heads would turn to see the “Gas Girl” miraculously healed of her affliction. So she stayed in the mother’s room for the duration of the service.
I was feeling pretty good about my message until Barbara got me by the elbow after church and hauled me aside for a heated reprimand:
“Why would you tell everyone that I had gas?” she demanded.
“I don’t know love, I didn’t think it was that big deal.”
“Maycock! You don’t tell the whole church that your wife has gas. It’s humiliating.”
I might have been tempted to argue that she was being overly sensitive. But the other women in the church were as incensed as Babs was. The school principal, Sharon, in particular couldn’t stop talking about it. “Why you would say that?” she kept asking me. “Who does that?”
Apparently, I do. And I never will again.
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