Standing on Shoulders

A dear friend has said, “We never make it on our own; we always find ourselves standing on the shoulders of others. And when we do, we discover that we can see farther, think more deeply, and engage more vigorously.” I have found that to be true. Many have been generous enough to allow me this privilege; I want to tell you about two of them.

When my dad attended Asbury Theological Seminary, two years of Hebrew were required. During his junior year, at one of the early classes in the quarter, a puckish middle-aged professor looked at the class and asked, “What do you think of trying to learn two years of Hebrew in one? At our current pace, we won’t finish the textbook material this year, and the library has a new audio lab that would help us. If you’re willing to study hard and do some extra work, I think we have a small enough class that we could do this. Let me know next time.” After considering the offer, the students answered, “Well, if you’re willing to teach us that much in such a short time, we’d be willing to try.” And so, a life-long association with “Prof.” began.

While my dad studied his Hebrew, my mom taught elementary school and supported the family. During that time the seminary president’s wife became concerned about the wives of the future pastors: “Soon they’ll be preacher’s wives. They might need to know about what being a preacher’s wife will be like before they leave seminary. We ought to help them prepare for their ministry.” She organized other professors’ wives and they began meeting regularly with the students’ wives. Thus, the “Seminary Annes” (a word-play on “seminarian”) started.

My mom recalls one of their meetings. Each professor’s wife brought something from home that they used to support their husband’s ministry. The items were displayed on tables around the room. One by one, each wife shared in simple show-and-tell fashion. One professor’s wife displayed a blue Delft porcelain tea set and teaspoons—noting the importance of social activities in a pastor’s ministry. Undoubtedly, another brought a Bible—indicating the importance of personal and family bible study. But my mom remembers one item particularly: a framed photograph of the professor—the same professor who was teaching my dad Hebrew.

When the professor’s wife shared, she said simply and passionately, “My husband is my ministry. The Lord has called me to Dennis, and it is my role to support and encourage him, especially in prayer. I pray for Dennis every day.” To this day my mom tears up when she tells this story. I suppose she does because that’s where mom first learned to pray the way she does, regularly, every day, for my dad, his ministry, and our family.

When I attended Asbury College, I had the privilege of meeting Dennis and Elsie Kinlaw. I found the same warmth and glow that must have attracted a young seminary student and his wife. On one particular occasion, my best friend and I went to see the Kinlaws at their home just before Christmas break. With a stately and genuine grace, Mrs. Kinlaw greeted us, welcomed us in, and invited us to sit on the couch. Before long, the tea kettle whistled, the coffee table was set with fine china, and homemade sugar cookies were brought to us. “Dennis is meeting with someone, but I’ll tell him you’re here.”

At those visits, Dr. Kinlaw would eventually ask, “What are you reading these days?” I needed an answer, so I began to read more, and with more discrimination. When I had an answer, Dr. Kinlaw would ask more and deeper questions, challenging me to go further. After college, our discussions became somewhat more frequent when I worked at the Francis Asbury Society, the organization Dr. Kinlaw founded in the 1980s. When I went to tell him about the opportunity at IRD and ask his advice, he encouraged me, like a mother scooting a young chick out of the nest: “I think you should go. It’s a good opportunity and you’ll gain experience that will be helpful for the future.”

In the ten years I have been with IRD since that conversation with Dr. Kinlaw, I have found his advice to be good and true. While my Asbury education had equipped me, it was time to experience things not to be found in Wilmore, Kentucky. Since then, I’ve had the privilege to work with Diane Knippers (an Asbury College graduate when Dr. Kinlaw was college president), meet with and learn from some incredible intellects (like Robert George, Michael Novak, Tom Oden, and others), and work with extraordinary colleagues. Yes, Dr. Kinlaw, we do stand on the shoulders of others—those who come before us. Thank you for allowing me to stand on yours!