by David Melton
I guess Andy Warhol said it. Back in 1968 he quipped that “in the future” everybody would be famous “for 15 minutes.” In this year of ‘15, Warhol’s prophecy seems to have come to fruition. The digital age and the various forms of social media make it happen like clockwork.
I do warn Boston students not to get sidetracked by trivia and fail to learn what is eternal. That was driven into me as a kid. In fact, the sermon my Dad preached that people most often still talk to me about was entitled, “What the Centuries Say to the Hours.” I still think it’s one of the greatest sermons I’ve ever heard. Yet I think Warhol’s pop culture blurb can be a lot of fun if taken the right way. One value of a New Year is that it is a natural time to reflect back. Our memories are funny things — they seize on some of the most random, unpredictable memories. Those “15 minutes” seem to come out of nowhere and lodge in your brain (and heart) forever.
As 2015 starts, I’ve been doing some memory work on some of those “15 minutes” that are forever etched in my memory from years with great young people in Boston. I just thought of the “Boston Boxes” and three of the most creative guys I’ve met, Brian, Derek and Alex. I think all three have gone on to make great contributions in their churches — though back in college they took pranks and looneyness to the stratosphere! Their 15 minutes in my memory? Zooming through the chapel service in a “box” built over some kind of go-cart … engine gunning, exhaust-stinking, fire shooting out of something. Brought the house down! Somebody got burned, but, as I recall, there were no lawsuits. Fifteen minutes!
There was that guy who found a baby raccoon and moved it into his dorm room to nurse it back to health. Fifteen minutes of public health crisis.
Our study trips have produced a lot of “minutes” to remember. Tim Godwin, now faithfully serving the Lord with his wife Kayla at Canyon Creek Baptist in Richardson, TX, jumps to mind. Fifteen minutes of Germany in a blizzard and Tim, our biggest guy, desperately blocking the door of a train — vying to create an international incident with more than one conductor — so that our group could furiously drag ourselves and our snow-covered luggage on board. Now those were some minutes.
Fifteen minutes? As long as I live I will remember Dr. Harry Boyle reading 2 Timothy 4 to about 60 of us in the ruins of Nero’s Judgment Hall in Rome. The voice of that valiant soldier of the cross cracked as he read, “I have fought a good fight … finished my course … kept the faith.” Unforgettable 15.
Then there were those “15 minutes” just a few weeks ago when I heard Tyler Prince in chapel thank the Lord for Carla Woundy and her family … “because without them, Lord, my family wouldn’t know You.” Freeze the clock. Not just 15. Timeless.