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The Preacher’s Corner
By Rev. Dr. Milton Winter
‘If you were Gale Denley, I enjoy your column’
As
I have written this column over the past 20 years, readers have been
most kind in expressing their appreciation when we meet on the street
or at the grocery store.
I have met many new
friends through The South Reporter, and writing the column has been fun
for me and I think it is an important aspect of my ministry.
I
have enjoyed working with the staff at The South Reporter, and my
editors, Barry Burlison and Linda Jones, are a pleasure to know and
real friends in the journalistic endeavor.
Some
of you are quick to remind me that I sometimes miss a week or two with
the column. This is not because the paper forgot to print what I wrote,
but because there are just some weeks I cannot think of anything to
write about.
(This sometimes happens on
Sundays, but somehow then I soldier on. It is harder, somehow, when you
have to display your lack of an idea in writing.)
A
minister I admire has said that he never has trouble thinking up a
sermon. Indeed, he says there are never enough Sundays for all the
sermons that come to mind. The trouble, says this preacher, is
narrowing down which idea to develop.
There is
truth in this. The difficulty is finding the quiet time to do the
narrowing down and thinking to elaborate those kernels of thought that
result in a sermon or a newspaper column.
Of course, I know some ministers who get their sermons from “The Preacher’s Journal,” or even the Internet.
But I could never face a congregation when I knew it had come from something called “Yahoo.”
“The
relentless return of the Sabbath” (to ministers, it seems to come every
three days), forces the issue in terms of the sermon; the kind
forbearance of Linda Jones sometimes permits me to slide by without
submitting a column.
Many tributes will appear to Gale Denley, and I will add one story to that mix.
One
day several years ago, I was walking in the parking lot of a Holly
Springs store, when a lady I did not know approached and said, “Pardon
me, but are you Gale Denley?”
I said that I was not, and she responded, “Well you sure look familiar.”
I
ventured the guess that perhaps since Mr. Denley’s and my photos
appeared most weeks on adjoining pages of The South Reporter, that that
was how she recognized me.
“Perhaps,” she
replied. “But anyway, if you were Gale Denley, I was going to say
that I enjoyed your column!”
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