Somehow, in early elementary school I developed an interest in science. As I tried to recall how that interest was stoked, I initially thought it must have been the space program.
Those of us who grew up in the ‘60s probably recall the “space race.” The United States and the USSR tried to best one another in space exploration, which prompted President Kennedy to issue the challenge of a manned landing on the moon before the end of the decade.
So, there were several steps along the way. Launching man into space…man orbiting the earth…a space walk…. Each of these developments captured the national attention. As did the tragedies. More than one astronaut lost his life in a failed mission.
I, too, was fascinated by the prospects of a lunar landing and further space exploration.
But that wasn’t it. Couldn’t have been.
For Christmas or my birthday during my 2nd grade school year (can you believe this!?!), my parents got me a chemistry set. It had test tubes and a frog in formaldehyde and a bunsen burner and enough toxic chemicals to poison us all—or burn down the house! Fortunately, none of those things happened.
But it did feed my interest in science.
That led to a subscription to The Science Program. Every month I received a different booklet on some facet of science: Flight…Rockets…The Solar System…Gemstones…The Ocean…Weather…Trees…. A special slipcase held a half-dozen booklets—over time, I accumulated four or five such slipcases full. The enclosed stickers helped retain a young boy’s enthusiasm, too!
Three years after the chemistry set, I asked for—and received—a microscope kit for Christmas.
The already prepared slides were cool, but I wanted to make my own. Hair, skin, fingernails, wings of flies, antennae of spiders, blood of grasshoppers, swamp water—all made fascinating subjects for a curious kid.
Somewhere I’d seen photos of snowflakes viewed through a microscope (probably in a Science Program booklet!), and I had to see them for myself—through my very own microscope!
So on a cold winter day after a fresh layer of snow, I ventured outside to our porch with my microscope, tweezers, and fresh, clean slide. With the tweezers, I picked up the smallest sample of snow I could manage, placed it on the slide, and slid the slide onto the microscope platform.
The microscope had two options for a light source. One was a tiny battery-operated light under the slide platform. The other was a mirror—flip the light fixture around, and adjust the mirror to reflect light under the slide.
I first tried option 1. As soon as the light hit the slide, the snow melted from the little bit of heat generated by the light. All I saw was a blob of water. So, I tried the second option, reflecting a bit of sunlight. Same outcome—even though it was well below freezing outside!
Never did catch a snowflake under the microscope—but not for lack of trying!
This new-found love of the microscope caught the attention of my sixth-grade teacher. The annual science fair for the elementary schools in our city was coming up, and she encouraged me to enter.
And so I did.
I got the posterboard. Markers. Glue.
Drew pictures. Cut out others.
Put it all together and created a display of my microscope, the pre-made slides, some of my own—the colorized fly’s wing was particularly stunning!
The contest day arrived. Exhibits lined the perimeter of the school lunchroom. Dozens of tables were set up to accommodate the entrants.
Each of us was required to stay with our exhibit while the judges made their way up and down each row of tables, questioning the exhibitor, probing the depths of his understanding and knowledge.
That evening, all the exhibitors and their parents assembled in the high school auditorium to announce the results.
After much ado about probably nothing, it came time to announce the winners. Fourth place…third place…second place….
“And the first place award, for his exhibit on The Microscope, goes to Bryan Bice from Lincoln School!”
I couldn’t believe it! I wanted to win, to be sure, but was just doing it for fun, mostly. I figured there were more brainy, science-oriented kids who’d win the thing.
But win it I did. The first and only trophy I ever received! [That was before the days of “everybody gets a trophy” thinking, obviously.]
Though I didn’t get a trophy for it, years later I did receive a special award.
After my junior year of high school, I got a job working as a cook in the restaurant of the Holiday Inn in Oak Brook, Illinois. I’ve shared some of that experience in a past post, which detailed how little I really knew about cooking anything other than grilling steaks on a broiler!
I may not have known a great deal about cooking, but I did know how to work, to be diligent, consistent, and dependable.
The boss noticed.
A few months after I started working, Mr. Gunderson came up to me in the kitchen one afternoon with a certificate and an envelope.
“Congratulations, Bryan,” he said. “You’ve been awarded Employee of the Month! As a prize, you’ll receive a $50 Savings Bond and a free overnight at the Holiday Inn of your choice!”
Incidentally, I’d planned to use the certificate at the Holiday Inn in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin—it’s now The Abbey Resort—but alas! Never did.
When it comes to this-life awards, I can’t recall receiving any others.
I do hope those aren’t the only prizes I’ll ever get, though.
In a recent sermon series through the New Testament book of 1 Peter—a letter from the Apostle Peter to Christians scattered abroad—I came upon the challenge issued to me personally:
Shepherd the flock of God which is among you, serving as overseers, not by compulsion but willingly, not for dishonest gain but eagerly; nor as being lords over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock; and when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that does not fade away.
1 Peter 5:2–4
As one called to “shepherd the flock of God”—those who comprise our local church—I have the opportunity to gain a permanent prize.
I have no idea whatever happened to the Science Fair trophy. It’s history. The “Employee of the Month” certificate and accompanying letter are long gone; the Savings Bond has been spent long ago.
But a permanent, unfading prize!?!
What could that be?
If I do my job properly and well…if I “feed the flock” with the nourishing “food” of God’s Word…if I willingly carry out my duties, not interested in padding my bank account at the expense of the “flock”…if I offer a good example to others…that prize awaits.
What is it?
Obviously, it’s not a literal crown of gold to be planted on my brow so I can parade around heaven and everyone will know I did a decent job shepherding God’s flock on earth.
Instead, I think Paul gives us some insight into the nature of the “Shepherd’s Crown.”
Writing to the church in Thessalonica, he tells these people to whom he faithfully ministered,
For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Is it not even you in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at His coming? For you are our glory and joy.
1 Thessalonians 2:19-20
Do you see it?
The prize or crown that awaits the faithful shepherd of God’s flock is the people that have been fed and led and have grown and developed through that shepherd’s diligent labors.
I’m not really bothered that in my life I’ve received few awards—and none of any real significance. But I do hope my years of shepherding will yield an unfading crown of rejoicing.
0
0
20
20
