Imagine there is a man you admire for his intellect and his eloquence – Professor Clement Peacefilledman. He is a great scientific mind, a speaker, a debater, a well of knowledge and inventions. His research into specific aspects of natural health show him to be extremely industrious and blessed. He is a man of God, steeped in the word and led by the spirit.
You have followed The Professor's studies, books and lectures for many years and agreed with all he says, and been blessed greatly by his works.
You have an opportunity one day to meet The Professor!
His personal assistant of 10 years has contacted you and asked you to follow them around for the day, helping to set up a conference in this area. Of course you leap at the chance and spend much time in mental and physical preparation.
The day comes. You meet the assistant, a capable, friendly man who obviously admires The Professor. The gentle, reverent way he speaks about him shows his love and respect.
The assistant directs you to your first task. Your mind is on the job so you don't get it wrong, but your head is spinning as you await you first meeting with the Professor.
As you work in the busy auditorium, helping to set up the stage you turn and see The Professor. He is sitting in the front row of the auditorium listening to his assistant with a look of calm confidence, smiling and nodding. His assistant is respectful and relaxed, going through a long page of instructions, with a few questions here and there – never addressing The Professor by his given name - Clement – always “Sir”. The assistant quickly notes down any thoughts The Professor may share, and any questions or requests. The assistant stands and smiles and thanks The Professor, as he goes to work on that list.
Maybe this is your chance to meet The Professor? You start down the steps from the stage, but you notice that The Professor has dropped to his knees and is deep in prayer.
Realising that this is not your appointed time to meet The Professor you tip-toe back up the stairs but are SHOCKED to hear a screech ring out across the auditorium:
“CLEMENT! Have you fed your budgie yet? I can hear the thing halfway across the carpark from that cramped little campervan. I told you we should have hired the six-berth. My neck is killing me from sleeping in that tiny bed. You'd think by now someone would have realised that you can't possibly be relied upon to make a decision on those sort of things. Mind you, I suppose I'm the bigger fool – married to you for 40 years and still letting you make the arrangements. And here's me giving up this whole week to travel with you and attend these lectures which I've heard hundreds of time when I'd rather be at my Women's Retreat. The speaker this year was someone I SPECIFICALLY wanted to hear and she won't be back in New Zealand for another two years.”
As the shouting gets closer you see a tiny little woman striding down the aisle of the auditorium, waving an umbrella and holding a book.
“And you went and forgot these didn't you. Ha! It was only 20 minutes ago you said you'd need an umbrella today for that bit in your talk. My, my. What you'd do without me I just don't know. And I don't suppose you've had your tablets today have you? Humph ... Just as I thought, here you are then. I saw some of the bottles were open on the bench - but you'd got distracted half-way through hadn't you. So I don't suppose you can remember which ones you HAVE taken? Can you? Hmmm? Here you are then. Yes, yes I've got a bottle of water for you ...”
The Professor, by this time, has risen from his knees and is standing, head hanging, mumbling something and putting out his hand for his umbrella, book and tablets.
It's too hard to watch. You turn and walk away.
How could she? Doesn't she realise what a wonderful man he is? How blessed? How full of the spirit. Filled with wisdom and using his gifts for the glory of God?
Doesn't she see?
