Balcony People

Last June, as I was contemplating God's call into full time ministry, I took the course "Seven Habits of Highly Effective People". (It's interesting how God works, because I signed up for that class months before I ever began conversations with Kennesaw First Baptist Church, and by the time we were travelling for interviews, it was time for this class... but that's a another story in itself.) On the first day of the class, we talked about "balcony people". This concept is based on the "cloud of witnesses" passage from the New Testament book of Hebrews. Basically it means that we have been influenced by people in our past, some dead and some living (thank you, John Lennon), who are now watching us and pulling for us in our race for life. Our instructor encouraged us to write letters to our "balcony people" and thank them for pouring themselves into us. Try it. The exercise will cause you to look at your life with a different perspective. This blog is about one of my balcony people. Others may follow, maybe not, but this one begs to be written.

John Deloach. Band Director, Fort Mill High School, 1972-1977. If you are a former student, he will always be "Mr. Deloach". I first met Mr. Deloach in the fall of 1975, when he took over teaching duties at Fort Mill Junior High. I think I was afraid of him the first time I met him. Over the next 18 months, I grew to respect him immensely and love him deeply. He had this aura about him that told you that he was going to make you better and he knew it. Cocky? Likely. Confident? Oh, yes. Perfectionist? Don't even kid yourself otherwise. Driven and focused? You can bet your life on it. He was part musician, part Vince Lombardi. And I loved it.

Mr. Deloach spent hours with us, teaching us life lessons as he taught us music. He taught me that anything less than my best effort was failure. He taught me that even when I give my best effort, sometimes others will be better. He taught me to give and give and give until I had nothing left to give, then to give a little more. By the spring of 1977, I had been selected to the South Carolina All State Band, and I will never forget the look on his face when he told me the news. I think I was as happy for him as I was for myself.

I remember the day he told us he was resigning. I don't think I'll ever forget, nor do I desire to repeat, the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was losing a parent, and I cried all the way home. He told me that everything would be ok, and again he was right. The world didn't stop just because he left, and in some ways it was even better, and through his leaving he taught me humility.

Three years after his departure, in the spring of 1980, I auditioned for the SC All State Band as a senior and was selected 1st Chair Tenor Saxophone. Mr. Deloach's influence on me had been so profound that I insisted that my parents locate him so that I could phone him with the news. When told him the results, he put the phone down and I could hear him literally screaming to his wife, who was on the other side of the house. He was so proud...

These days I think Mr. and Mrs. Deloach are retired and live somewhere in the upstate region of SC. I haven't talked to him in years, but I want him to know a few things. Mr. Deloach, thank you. God used you to help me become a servant leader. Mr. Deloach, I miss you. I use your lessons and methods often. Mr. Deloach, I love you. As a struggling teenager, my life could have taken so many directions, but praise God, you were there.

So, who are your balcony people?