May: Commencement Address

May 2, 2009 - LeTourneau University Commencement Address by Gary Brandenburg, Pastor:

Giving a commencement address at a university with a reputation like LeTourneau’s is a heavy responsibility. The weight grew even heavier as I was preparing my remarks and thinking back to my own college graduation. Our commencement speaker was Richard Nixon a month or two before he resigned his presidency. I can only hope and pray that the days after my commencement speech will be happier than his.

I am well aware that as a commencement speaker I stand in the way of any number of commencement celebrations so I will try to keep my remarks brief. For many of you, this day marks the end of a process that started when your mom or dad dropped you off in some classroom and you were immersed in the world of colors and numbers and scissors and paste. You learned some of life’s most important lessons that first year in school. You learned to share, to play fair, to clean up after yourself (a lesson some of you promptly forgot when you got to college), and that life is a balancing act between work and play and rest.

Today you have reached the finish line. Congratulations, you have completed the course and made your parents proud. You are a college graduate. Now, having finished your formal education you can get on with your learning.

It is possible to graduate from a university totally qualified to be utterly useless. My hope is that as you drive away from this beloved institution you will not leave the learning behind. There are important lessons that await you. I humbly offer one lesson that separates those who go on to greatness from those who just go on. Here it is:

There are two great imposters in life; success and failure. One lesson we all take away from our college years is that looks are deceiving. Don’t be fooled by the illusion of success.

Successful failures are common. You can read about them almost daily in the newspaper or on the Internet. A few years ago it was Martha Stewart, the queen of gracious living, who went to jail for insider trading. Martha was building a financial empire when someone discovered that a holiday turkey was not the only thing Martha knew how to cook. She cooked the books and paid the price. Now Bernie Madoff is in jail after Bernie made-off with billions of dollars of other people’s money. Rob Blagojevich, the handsome young former governor of Illinois, is in trouble. He climbed the political ladder but his feet didn’t fit the pedestal he perched upon, and he took a well-publicized fall.

All of these people lacked an internal compass, a moral center to guide them through a world of wealth and influence. Successful failures are constant reminders that it is possible to graduate from college and, armed with a good education, be wildly successful…at all the wrong things. A wise man once asked, “What does it profit you to gain the whole world and lose your soul?”

Then there are those who have failed successfully. Thomas Edison failed again and again. So did Abraham Lincoln. But they never quit, they never gave up, they never stopped learning. The man whose name this university bears dropped out of school, was rejected from military service, failed in business, but R. G. LeTourneau kept pursuing his love of machines until he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. Then, in 1965, the International Correspondence Schools awarded Mr. LeTourneau his diploma in engineering, 50 years after he first started the course. LeTourneau was 76-years-old at the time. When he received his diploma, he remarked with a note of sarcasm to his executive assistant, "So now I've got a diploma. Now I'm educated."

The Bible provides a wealth of examples of those who failed successfully. There is candid story of a man named Peter, a close associate of Jesus, who denied him in his time of need. Who could have known that Peter would get back up and be the guest speaker on the Day of Pentecost when the church we birthed.

There is a strange story in the book of Genesis that involves a man named Jacob, a scoundrel of a man, who wrestled with an angel on the banks of a river called The Jabbok. At the end of this wrestling match, Jacob insisted that the angel give him a blessing. In fact, he wouldn’t let go of the angel until he got his blessing. In the encounter the angel put Jacob’s hip out of joint. What possible meaning does this ancient story have for us moderns? For all his flaws, Jacob realized that it was futile to spend his life seeking the approval of men if he did not enjoy the approval of God. So God blessed Him but Jacob lived with a limp the rest of his life.

Failure is not an option, it’s a necessity. Failure teaches us lessons that can be learned no other way. In fact, all training is at first characterized by failure. When you learned to walk you failed many times. When you learned to ride a bike you failed over and over but you kept getting back up. The Bible commends failure when the apostle says, “Most gladly, therefore I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Cor. 12:9-10 The author of those words was not fatalistic. He was a realist. “There is more of God’s glory to be seen and savored through suffering than through self-serving escape.” –John Piper

All of us live with a limp. We are broken people, wounded by our failures and the failures of others. But those who are truly successful in life relentlessly pursue the blessing of God through good times and bad, through failure and success, until we finish the work He has given us to do. Never fear failure, fear being successful at all the wrong things. Success cannot be measured by grades, degrees, titles, or achievements. Success can only be measured by the degree to which we reflect the character of God; His love, His grace, His justice, His compassion for all. The people who make a lasting difference in this world are not those who have mastered many things but those who have been mastered by one great thing – to display the glory of God for the joy of all people. You don’t have to write the music you just have to play the notes on the score written by the Master Composer with the instrument you have been given.

Several years ago my wife and I were given tickets to the East Texas Symphony. One of the perks of being a pastor is getting tickets to things (that other people don’t want to go to). I love the symphony…f or about ten minutes. I confess that I am not an avid classical music fan. But we went. There was a buzz in the air as people found their seats and the musicians warmed up. A cacophony of sound swirled around the place adding to the anticipation of the big moment when the conductor appeared. She strode gracefully onto the stage and the crowd hushed; then stillness, the uplifted baton, the anticipation, and when that baton came down the heavens opened, every musician playing their instrument creating one magnificent sound. God showed up that night. He showed me what He had in mind when He populated the earth, men and women from diverse backgrounds playing different instruments but all playing the same music. But on that particular night I did not hear the Lord in the whirlwind of the woodwinds, I did not see the Lord in the quaking of the kettle drums, I saw him standing there in the back with this…(triangle). And here is where my ignorance could not be disguised with a mere suit and tie. I didn’t know what this man was called. Was he the percussive triangulist? The triangulator? This humble dinger was focused on the score in front of him. While the violins were bowing and the oboes were blowing he simply waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, at just the right time he went…DING. I wanted to leap from my seat and shout, “You’re the man.” (I hear that such outbursts are frowned upon at the symphony.)

On that night, in that auditorium, while everyone was enjoying an evening of beautiful music I was learning the definition of success. Success is measured by our willingness to play the part the conductor has assigned to us. Some of you are first chair people. “To whom much is given much will be required.”

Some of you are very relieved and maybe even a little surprised just to be here. Don’t try to play someone else’s instrument. Just do your part, say your lines, fulfill your calling, and you will be successful.

I close with a poem by Bill Bennet. If you’ll excuse the mixed metaphor it is titled, “He said his lines.”

One of our sons, Mike, wanted to take private speech. He’s such a talker anyway, I recommended hush instead. But it was inexpensive and he was interested, so we let him.

The climax of the year’s labor was a two-hour assortment of clowns, kings, rabbits, and forgotten lines known as the Speech Recital, given to a devoted audience of eager parents and trapped friends.

Mike was a king. He looked rather regal, too, if I do say so myself. At least until the queen, a head taller and twenty pounds heavier, stood beside him casting a pall on his regality.

He had only three lines to say — nine months of speech, three short lines. And they came very late, in the last moment of the last act of the very last play. Anyway you looked at it, he was not the star. At least not to anyone except a couple about halfway back on the left side.

It was a long evening and it was miserably hot. But Mike waited and he was ready and he said his lines and he said them well. Not too soon, not too late, not too loud, not too soft, but just right, he said his lines.

I’m just a bit player, too, not a star in any way. But God gave me a line or so in the pageant of life, and when the curtain falls and the drama ends, and the stage is vacant at last,

I don’t ask for a critic’s raves or fame in any amount. I only hope that he can say, “He said his lines. Not too soon, not too late, not too loud, not too soft. He said his lines and he said them well.”--Bob Bennett

That’s my prayer for you, that when the curtain falls and the music fades away that you will be able to say, “I said my lines and I said them well.” Thank you for your kind attention and, if we never meet again in this life, I hope to see you at that heavenly concert described in the book of Revelation. I’ll be the guy in the back with the triangle.