The Gospel According to Clif Sipley

The Gospel According to Clif Sipley

Psalm 23

            I’ve said before that both my parents were ordained ministers.  While I was growing up, Dad handled the church business and Mom was a stay-at-home mother for me.  It wouldn’t happen in their denomination today, but that was what worked for them, both because of who they were and the way the culture was.

            While I was in college the denomination moved Dad from pastoring churches to evangelistic work.  He would go to a town, do a two-week “campaign” in the denomination’s local church, move on to another town, another church, for another two weeks, then come home for two weeks.  This pattern was based on information Dad received from traveling salesmen he knew, who said their companies had learned from hard experience that after four weeks on the road the salesman’s productivity dropped off significantly.  The denomination’s leaders accepted Dad’s input, and made it the norm for their traveling evangelists. 

            Once I was out of the house there was little reason for Mom to stay home, so she began traveling with Dad, becoming more involved in ministry.  This was a rewarding time for both of them.  They got to work together, travel together, and spend more time together.

            Part of Dad’s responsibilities was to minister to the local pastor, often a newly ordained young person, just starting out in his or her career.  Dad was quite successful in this ministry, and provided much needed support for these young pastors.  As part of his support he kept an ever-expanding prayer list.  Every Sunday morning he would pray for every church he had visited in his evangelistic campaigns.

            Out of this work grew another ministry.  The denomination began using him as a speaker at retreats and workshops for young pastors and pastors-in-training.  At first these beginners would ask each other, “What’s this old geezer got that we need to hear?”  Not long into the first session they found out.  Dad’s wealth of experience, and his close relationship with God through the Holy Spirit soon showed them how much they could learn from an oldtimer.

            Dad had been raised on the King James Version of the Bible, and while he recognized the value of newer and more scholarly translations, he never left the KJV behind.  I have his Thompson Chain Reference Bible on the corner of my desk.  The English is archaic, but it helps me remember him and his passion for the people he served in Christ’s name.  It’s a good anchor for my ministry.

            Young pastors who were participants in Dad’s workshops, referred to the KJV as “The gospel according to Clif Sipley.”   While they did it jokingly, they also did it out of respect for Dad and for the Word.

            While there are several good, solid, scholarly translations available today, and they are useful for understanding God’s Word more fully, those of us of a certain age return to the KJV from time to time for familiar passages.  To this day I cannot read the 23^rd Psalm comfortably in any other translation.  There are other passages of which this is true, but this most familiar of Psalms is always the first that comes to mind.  That’s why I chose it today.

            One quirk (shortcoming?  weakness?) of mine involves those Scripture passages which are indelibly printed on my mind from singing Handel’s Messiah.  If someone reads them in a more modern translation, my mind automatically turns to the words from the KJV.  Can’t help it.  Can’t teach Old Dobbin new tricks.  The poetic majesty of these passages in older, more formal English is set indelibly in my brain. 

What a blessing!