Balmoral Presbyterian Church

A Testimony

A few years back, Carol and I flew from Nashville to Philadelphia, in order for me to give testimony in the Federal District Court. As a witness, I gave the court what it needed to hear: my small piece of a larger story. But it was testimony that only I could provide.

From its earliest days, Christians have been motivated to share their experiences of God. Some have composed beautiful songs. Some have created dazzling works of art. Others have faced death rather than deny that Christ is alive. Most of us - from the first century until now - acknowledge God's impact through words, through stories.

Member stories (testimony)  allow us to learn more about each other, as we hear of the impact of a Sunday School teacher, a parent, a soccer coach, a librarian, a sister, a principal, a mother-in-law, a partner, a pastor.

In the winter of 1953, my senior year in high school, I applied to three Presbyterian colleges. Hampden-Sydney was my first choice, but I applied also to Davidson and King. My highway department summer job paid 85 cents an hour, which left the burden of my tuition and fees to my widowed mother.

Mother typed a letter to the Business Manager at Hampden-Sydney. She laid out her salary, her savings, her financial obligations and debts. In about two weeks, she got a response from the Business Manager, something like this:

"Dear Mrs. Odom, Thank you for your kind letter about your son Bill. I have read your letter, and I admire your candor.As much as we would like to have your son here, I simply don't think you can afford it. I wish my response could be more encouraging. Yours sincerely,"

A couple of days after this devastating news, I called the church manse and arranged to come and visit with Dr. Donald W. Richardson.

Dr. and Mrs. Richardson had been missionaries in China for 25 years. When they moved back to Richmond, he became Professor of Missions at Union Theological Seminary. Many more years later, he became pastor of my church. He must have been eighty years old or more by that time.

He is the only legendary pastor I have had. Church members bragged to one another that Dr. Richardson had memorized the entire King James Version of the Bible. (The choir sat behind and a bit higher than the pulpit, and I could tell that he was reciting the Scripture, not reading it.)

Mrs. Richardson was my piano teacher, so I had been inside the manse many times, but never to his office. As I walked the three blocks from home to the manse, I had many questions and few answers.

 Once in his office, this gentle man asked me what was on my mind. After I told him about the letters to and from Hampden-Sydney, he asked me two or three questions and then said: "Bill, you don't need to make any decisions today. Try to focus on your classes, and let's us talk again in two weeks."

As you anticipated, there was a happy ending. Dr. Richardson called the College, and the College called my mother with the news:  Additional scholarship money was available for me. What an impact on the rest of my life!