archbishop

According to the bible, to be a Bishop a person must be, "blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, just, holy, temperate, not a novice or a striker, be of good behavior, a lover of hospitality, apt to teach, not given to wine, not greedy of filthy lucre, patient, not a brawler, not covetous; He must be an effective ruler of his own house with children who are not unruly but are faithful and under his subjection; He must have a good report, be a steward of God, not self-willed or easily angered, a lover of good men, and always remember the lessons he's learned..." I don't think I qualify.

Several years ago Dad, Mark and I were singing at a big outdoor festival over in western Virginia. I try to drink a lot of water before I go on stage, 'cause singers sweat and spit a lot when they're performing. That usually means though that I start feeling the urge too soon before those last couple of long, long tunes. With no backstage accommodations at this particular venue, that meant a quick dash to the public restrooms as soon as our part of the set was over.

There I am facing the wall wondering if twelve ounces will be sufficient next time. A man standing next to me asks, "What makes you think you're qualified to be a Bishop?" As awkward as it was, I was grateful for the kid behind me asking for the autograph. "Hang on little man. I'll sign your CD when..."

The inquisitive man followed me to the sink, waited for me to wash my hands, watched me write my name on another band's CD, then shadowed me out the door. "What makes you think you're qualified to be a Bishop?"

I'd been to seminary. My ministerial credentials required that I study and know the Old, the New, the history, the apologetics and the validity of the Scriptures. I knew what he was talking about, and even if I didn't the attitude on his face told me he did - or thought he did, and where he was going. He started down the list: "Blameless, just, holy, temperate, patient; not covetous, greedy, self-willed or easily angered." That last one, as it turns out, was becoming the biggie at the moment.

I honestly don't think the guy knew a thing about me. I know he didn't. All he knew was that when the emcee brought us to the stage he called us the Bishops. When the man followed me to the bus and kept pushing the point and asking why I felt Bishop qualified, it was like an invisible wall when I finally turned and confessed that I didn't. I don't qualify, not according to the biblical criterion. But my daddy, Mr. Bishop, his blood, verified by his love, says differently.

So, thanks Dad. Happy Father's Day.