I was thrilled when Dr. Hendricks asked me to be one of his graduate assistants when I was a seminary student. He was a larger-than-life theology professor at Golden Gate. (I've written about him several times in my blog this year.) I told him that I'd love to take on that job and then I began to imagine what it would look like to serve in such a glamorous role. I was sure, for example, that I would be teaching classes for him and grading papers. And I actually did a little of that.
What I didn't anticipate were the other parts of the job. I spent hours proofreading and editing manuscripts that Dr. Hendricks wrote. It was tedious and thankless work. I checked and formatted footnotes (long before we could count on computers to do that). And I spent most of my time filing papers. Dr. Hendricks must have had a dozen four-drawer file cabinets in his tiny office - and he saved everything. Several times a week, I'd go into his office and find a stack of papers topped by a post-it with my name on it. That meant that my job for the day was to file those papers. In most cases, that meant not just identifying the right file, but finding some way to stuff more stuff into drawers that were already packed tight.
Out of the thousands of files, there was one particular file that always intrigued me. It was labeled "Paychecks."
At first, I simply assumed that the label meant what it said. I thought that it might be a collection of financial documents related to Dr. Hendricks' work. But it actually had nothing to do with that. "Paychecks," he explained to me, were notes and cards and kind words that came from students and colleagues and friends in churches. When those words of encouragement came, Dr. Hendricks filed them under "Paychecks." He explained that even though he certainly needed to get paid for teaching, it was this kind of verbal encouragement that was his real "pay." So all the notes (at least the kind ones) would go into that file. And from time to time, Dr. Hendricks would pull out that file and read some of the cards. I was kind of surprised to hear that it would ever be needed - because Dr. Hendricks had a very healthy ego - but he said that he did that especially when he was feeling discouraged in his ministry.
I thought a lot about that "Paychecks" file today. I mentioned a couple of days ago that I'm going through my files. I don't have nearly as many as Dr. Hendricks had, but I have saved all kinds of things over the years. Today I stumbled on files of old notes and cards from the past few decades. And yes, it was a mistake to do this - but I started taking out and reading cards one by one.
Pictures drawn by children. Photographs from baptisms. Hand-written letters from friends. Paper copies of special e-mails. Cards expressing love and encouragement. I found myself being reminded of events that I could barely remember. What I held in my hand, though, was real enough to convince me that those things must have actually happened.
As rich as the memories were, it's probably not wise to do that sort of thing when you are already feeling nostalgic. On the other hand, what a gift to be reminded of a life that is in danger of being forgotten.
I don't call those files "Paychecks" in my system. But Dr. Hendricks was right - that's exactly what they are. And it turns out that those kind and encouraging words are priceless.