I enjoy officiating at weddings.  It’s a happy time for a happy couple filled with memories for a lifetime.  I want each ceremony that I am honored to perform to be a special one for the bride, groom, and their families.  It’s a sacred event, so I always try to make it as personal for the bride and groom as possible, and spiritually uplifting for everyone involved.  Weddings are a time for joy, but not for pranks and jokes.  Sometimes small glitches occur, but usually everything goes according to the plan. Recently I officiated a beautiful, spiritually blessed wedding– and this time the glitch was on me.

The groom and best man stood beside me on the platform as the beautiful bride made her way down the aisle arm in arm with her proud father.  As they took their place directly in front of me, the music ceased and I invited the congregation to please be seated.  All eyes and ears were on me as I began the beautiful words of the traditional ceremony.  “We have gathered here today….”

Now, here was the problem.  Just as I took a quick breath to begin, a tiny gnat just happened to be flying past my lips and was promptly inhaled like a flash into my throat.  Whatever I said turned

instantly into a garbled mess of coughing, gagging, and hacking.  The brides’s beautiful eyes were as large as saucers, no doubt wondering if the Heimlich maneuver would be a last minute addition to her perfect day.  Fortunately I gained control of my outburst, ultimately swallowing the little guy.  At least I got some protein in my tummy to tie me over until the reception.

It was not my first time to wrestle with insects during a public speaking event.  In the summer of 1973 I was invited to preach a three night “Youth Revival” at a little church near my hometown of Ashland, Alabama.  I was a raw, seventeen year-old preacher, who had only preached a handful of sermons in my life, but quite  comfortable (too comfortable) with a microphone in my hand.  The little church actually had few young people to revive.  The term “Youth Revival” just meant that the evangelist would be younger than the pastor.  And I was young–  too young.

The small church pastor was very welcoming and gracious to me.  The crowd that gathered in the small church the first night was larger than I had anticipated– albeit a sizable number of them were my family, my friends, and my family’s friends, all coming to “support” me at the three night Youth Revival.  Nonetheless, to my pea-sized brain it was because I was surely the second coming of Billy Graham, and this could mark the beginning of my worldwide preaching tour.

In honesty, I did love Jesus more than anything.  I was certain that He had called me into ministry, and I was ready– in season and out.  I had also recently experienced the infilling of the Holy Spirit, and my passion for God and HIs Word was soaring into the twilight zone.  On Thursday night I announced to the congregation that on Friday, the final night, I would be preaching on the Second Coming of Christ.  I was certain that Jesus’ return could not occur until I had thoroughly prepared them for His coming.

I woke up on Friday morning pumped about the evening service.  I spent most of the day preparing, praying and pleading with God for His Anointing– as I should have.  My mistake was that that afternoon I also took the time to read a short paperback book I had picked up at a yard sale entitled, We’ve Been Robbed.  It was all about how we have forgotten our rightful inheritance in Christ– robbed of our prosperity, robbed of our blessing, robbed of our power, and robbed of our authority.  It was a typical “name it and claim it” book that contained a kernel of truth, but was not good for a naive, immature seventeen year-old evangelist to digest just before taking the stage and a microphone.

The Friday night crowd was larger than the previous evenings.  It was a hot, sultry night and the big rotating fans hanging down from the tall church ceiling couldn’t keep up with the heat rising from the feverish crowd below.  Of necessity, a thoughtful deacon raised the huge windows along the sides of the sanctuary for additional ventilation.  I took the platform and began a biblical foray into the “signs of the times.”  Without screens on the windows, the church auditorium became a magnet for all kinds of summer insects– including the massive horseflies from the cow pasture adjoining the church property.

Before long the air was filled with the buzzing of horseflies flying and diving around the heads of the listeners.  I couldn’t help but notice people swatting and dodging the irritating dive-bombers from hell.  All of the sudden I remembered the paperback I had just read.  In my quick estimation, the horsefly invasion was simply a diabolical plot of Satan to distract and rob the saints of the truth emanating from the pulpit.  This has to be my opportunity to take back the power and authority that Satan, the thief, has taken from us.  Then, filled with what I thought was faith, I said the unthinkable.  It just rolled off my tongue before I had the sense to stop it.

“According to the Word of God,” I said,  “We have authority over all the creatures of the earth.  It’s part of the authority given to us by our Creator in the Garden of Eden.  I’m going to use that authority right now and command these horseflies to leave this church property!”  (I observed my sweet mother on the back row lower her head into her hands, dreading what I was about to do.  I know she was praying for God’s mercy on her poor son.)

“In the Name of Jesus, I command these distracting horseflies to leave this place right now– I rebuke you in the Name of Jesus!”

As I prayed my final, “…in the Name of Jesus,” one of those diving kamikaze horseflies crashed right into my front teeth!  I spit and sputtered all over myself, unable to get another syllable out of my mouth.  The congregation was stunned for a moment, and then began to snicker.  Some of my friends broke out into full-throated laughter.  I was humilated.  (So was my mom.)  I’m certain most people felt sorry for me, but for some it was at least an entertaining show.  I apologized, gave no explanation for my failed authority, and moved on with my sermon.  It all ended OK, but it was my last night at the little Baptist church in the country.  (It was my last night there– ever.)

Looking back, I think I understand what happened.  Those horseflies were not Satanic messengers– they were commissioned by God.  Being humble is our choice; being humiliated is often the alternative.  He probably was forced to send an angelic pitcher to the mound to toss me a curveball– right in the teeth.  That holy horsefly gave his all to teach a young servant of the Lord three important lessons–  1) He mustn’t believe everything he reads;  2) everything that enters his mind is not from God; and 3) all authority belongs to God, and not him.

This is what I really learned that day:  I am called to be God’s servant, not his Prime Minister.

“When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”     Proverbs 11:2