Let me say at the outset that this is not my sermon. It
comes from a preacher by the name of Mike Adkins. A friend of
mine heard it on the radio, recorded it, and gave me a copy of
the tape in hopes that, one day, I might pass it on.(1)
The story is Mike's own experience. It is set in his
hometown. Let me share it with you from his perspective.
This is about a fellow that everybody used to laugh at, the
kind that kids used to throw snowballs at in the wintertime. You
know the type. He was WEIRD! His name was Norman...Old Norman.
He was six-foot-two or thereabouts. Wore an old felt-looking hat
that had so much dirt and oil in it that you couldn't tell what
it looked like originally. Wore grease-soaked overalls. He
would go around town in old house-slippers that would flop when
he walked. He walked real fast up and down Main Street and then
suddenly he would stop and start talking to himself...ababababa.
People passing by would raise their eyebrows and whistle,
(Twilight Zone Theme). Weird!
He owned a house across the street from me. The bushes were
all grown up, the old chocolate paint was falling off, the
windows were filthy. It looked like nobody lived there.
One day, while I was out working on an old tree stump,
Norman came out and began to putter with his ancient lawnmower in
the backyard. Something was wrong with it - it wouldn't run. He
was working on it and working on it. I watched. It looked like
he was getting more and more disgusted. As I watched, I thought,
"Boy, is he STRANGE!" Then he did something I will never forget
for all eternity - he stood up as tall as he could, and raised
his arms like the Incredible Hulk. He glared at me and RAN from
the back of his yard down the side of the house right at me
stopping at his sidewalk and he screamed at the top of his
lungs...AHHH! My heart was going rat-ta-ta-ta-ta. I had a tool
in my hand, and I thought to myself, "Lord, I know we're supposed
to love everybody, but if he comes over here I'm gonna defend
myself." Norman went back to the lawnmower, fooled around with
it a little more, got angry some more, ran at me again. Three
times he did that; three times he stopped at his sidewalk.
Suddenly, a sense of peace settled over me. And when it
did, I did something that surprised even me. I got up...barefoot, coveralls...and walked across that street, walked up to
Norman in his backyard by his lawnmower. I said, "You havin'
trouble with your lawnmower, Norman?"
He looked at me and he said, "You havin' trouble with your
lawnmower, Norman?"
I said, "I just said that." I said, "I'm not much of a
lawnmower mechanic, Norman," and I heard him say, "I'm not much
of a lawnmower mechanic, Norman," but I cleaned that spark plug,
tightened a screw or two, (knowing NOTHING about a lawnmower) and
I prayed...then I pulled that cord and it ran like it had just
come out of the shop. It just hummed...HUMMMM!
I got up and looked at Norman. He looked at that lawnmower.
And he did something that I had never seen before: he grinned.
And when he did, what should appear but a big green and yellow
tooth right here. And there was one over here and one here and
one here. It was quite a sight with those glasses that looked
like Coke bottle bottoms...whiskers...that old hat. (Twilight
Zone Theme.)
One night there was something special at my church...and the
tradition was, after church, everybody would go to the Dairy
Queen. Everybody would be waving and smiling. I was sitting
there eating my ice cream, waving and smiling just like everybody
else, and guess who walked in in the middle of all that. Uh,
huh.
Norman came and got his ice cream cone, sat there...and you
know that everyone of those good church folks rushed over to
greet him. Me too. Right! I did what everybody else did - gave
him room...acted like I didn't see him. But somehow, the Spirit
of the Lord was working on me. I said to my wife, "Pray for me.
I'm gonna go over and talk to Norman."
"Hi, Norman, you remember who I am?"
And he said, "You remember who I am?"
"Norman, listen, I'm your neighbor."
He said, "I'm your neighbor." Had those same glasses on.
He had a glob of dirt in his left ear. He had an ice cream cone.
He had eaten part of it, had part of it in his whiskers. It was
a sight.
A couple of nights later, the Lord spoke to me again: "Take
Norman somewhere with you."
I said, "Lord, I'm not gonna do it now. I'm goin' to
Opryland! Norman at Opryland?" Well, to make a long story
short, a few days later, we were headin' down the highway to
Opryland, Norman beside me, my wife and the kids in the back.
But something was happening to Norman - he was getting to be
relaxed around people. He was beginning to be less nervous and
he didn't talk to himself as much as he had before.
We got to Opryland. I didn't put him on the Wabash
Cannonball because he was about 62-years-old and I was afraid he
might have a heart problem so I tried to pick out a ride that he
could handle...Bumper Cars. I said, "Norman, did you ever ride
in..." and he said, "Nope." I said, "Here's how they work - get
in, push the peddle, turn the wheel, and have at it."
So we got him in one...right there in the middle of all
those girl friends who wanted to hit their boyfriends, mothers
who wanted to ram fathers, and he got everybody in the place
caught over to one side. He had that car turned sideways,
everybody was penned in and they were MAD! And he was looking
around at them and at me, not knowing what to do, and we just
began to laugh...so hard that tears start coming to our eyes.
Finally somebody got loose. The ride was about half over, they
felt like they'd been cheated, and they were in a hurry - they
came all the way around that rink and they wanted to hit SOMEBODY
before that ride was over, and there sat Norman. And they hit
him full speed ahead. And then he really tried to get that thing
going. Here came someone else (and they were really starting to
get loose now in great numbers) and they came around one by one
and hit Norman.
And the Spirit of the Lord came to me again, right there at
Opryland, and said, "That's what they've been doing to Norman all
his life. People have been hitting on him and hitting on him.
When they throw snowballs at him like he's not a human being,
when they bring him old junky clothes they wouldn't wear anymore
themselves, they hit on him."
And then the Lord said something else: "That's what my
children do to one another. They get mad because they can't be
an usher or they complain about the preacher, gossip about some
lady or some man." And then the reminder came of the 13th
chapter of I Corinthians: "If I speak in the tongues of men and
of angels...if I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all
mysteries...if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have
not LOVE...I AM NOTHING."
I had taken Norman an old suit that I didn't wear anymore.
I went over to Norman's and looked in his closet - old shoes of
every description, old suits and sweaters, all kinds of ties -
bolos, big wide ties, little ties - nothing that anyone would
want to wear. The Lord said, "Buy him a suit." So I did. I
took Norman downtown, told him to pick out whatever he wanted.
He did...good taste too - dark blue, good fabric, expensive. It
was nice.
I said, "Norman, have you ever been clean?"
He said, "It's been years." He said, "I'm a hermit, you
know. My dad got killed in the coal mines about fifty years ago.
I was just a little boy. He went to work one day. He didn't
come home."
I said, "Norman, I'm gonna run some water for you in your
bathtub. I really want you to get clean because tonight I want
to take you down to a musical program at our church."
I went in Norman's bathroom and couldn't believe my eyes.
The floor was like dirt, the tub was filthy - I had to take all
the paper sacks out of it first (he saved paper sacks, I don't
know why). I took them all out, cleaned the tub with SOS pads,
and when I turned the water on, the faucet fell in the tub. I
got it back up, taped it back on, got some hot water going and
went out and said, "Now, Norman, you got a new white shirt and
tie to go with your new suit, new socks and shoes, new underwear,
so let's really get clean. And when you're through, holler at
me, OK?"
So Norman went in the bathroom, and I went into the living
room of that unbelievable house. Wallpaper sagging where the
rain had gotten through the walls and ceiling...dirt everywhere.
There was an old coal furnace that smoked in the wintertime -
something was wrong with it...I don't know how he lived when he
turned it on. He probably didn't use it. There were several
covers on the bed, so he'd just crawl under. An old mattress
(swayed) like that. I shook the curtain and (cough) dust just
billowed out. I heard him in there in the bathtub. I heard him
soaping "op-ee-dop-ee-dop-ee-dope." And he finally said, "OK,
I'm ready; I'm clean."
I went in and told him to just get out of the tub and put a
towel around him. There he stood - his glasses were dripping
water; the floor was all wet. And there he stood. Have you ever
seen mud that has just been smeared? I said, "Not clean enough,
Norman. I want you to get back in the tub. Now, Norman, I'm
serious. I want you to get CLEAN." I went back in the living
room. Norman called. Same thing. That went on time and time
again. The floor was wet, the mirror was wet, the tub was wet,
I was wet. And when Norman got finished, I scrubbed his head. I
got him down like this - didn't hurt him, but I got him in a
headlock where he couldn't get away. I got an SOS. I got some
Lava soap, a sponge, and began to rub the top of his head, and
he'd go "UM-M-M-M," and pretty soon I looked and there was a
bunch of white showing through - he had BEAUTIFUL white hair. I
scrubbed some more. I said, "Put your face up here," and he went
(scrunched up face), and I scrubbed his face and gave him the
sponge and said, "All right, big boy, from the neck on down, it's
yours. Get it clean." When we got finished there was water all
over the place, but you could rub your thumb on Norman anywhere
and he'd squeak.
We went to church that night, and, as usual, people came up
to greet me: "Well, good to see you. And who's your friend?"
And about the time they'd get his hand, I would say, "That's
Norman," and they'd go (...disbelief...)!
One Sunday right after that, the Spirit of the Lord spoke to
me and said, "Today is Norman's day. Take a Bible, and go talk
to him." I walked across the street, into that dilapidated old
house and began to talk to my new friend. I told him how we have
all come short of God's standard, but that Jesus had come, had
paid the price for our sin, and how we could receive salvation.
At first Norman didn't understand, and then he grasped it. He
said, "Oh, I see what you mean. I used to listen to the radio
when I was a little boy. My Mom would play it when that preacher
was on." He said, "You mean, like...my windows are so dirty
right there...you mean that Jesus, if I'll ask him, will clean my
heart up like sometimes when I wash my windows?"
I said, "Yeh, Norman. He'll clean up the inside of you and
then the outside too."
He said, "I would like that." In that old house, with the
wind blowing through it and the cracks in the walls, Norman
prayed a simple prayer. He said, "Jesus, my friend here said
that if I asked you to, you'd come into my heart, and I'd like
that. Come in." And Norman was washed white as snow. And God
began to do a work in him.
But God continued to work in me as well. God said, "Are you
willing to keep on helping Norman? No matter how long it takes?
Are you willing to help him, take him places, make him a part of
your life? Are you really willing?" I said, "O God, he's so
unlovely sometimes. I don't know."
I had done so many things in that house - it was beginning
to be a routine: back and forth and back and forth across the
street, and one night God challenged me one more time. I was
standing looking at my handiwork in Norman's bathroom - I had
fixed the faucet, fixed the sink, got some new walls up, put a
new Celotex ceiling in...but there was one thing in that bathroom
that I would just not touch. It was over in the corner, and,
uh... It was DIRTY. I just said, "No, no, no, no. Now, God,
sing in the choir, teach Sunday School, serve on committees, OK,
Lord, but THAT..." Gee, I fought that thing. But the Spirit
said, "All I want you to do is fix that lid." But I just
couldn't do it. All I had to do was take a bolt off, put the new
lid on and it was done, but I just couldn't do it. I mean,
you've got to HUG those things to work on them. No way, Lord.
But I could not get it out of my mind. One night I was
sitting watching television but I couldn't concentrate because I
was so bothered. Finally, I turned to my wife and said, "I'm not
gonna do it." She was looking at the Sears catalogue or
something, and looked up at me like... I couldn't stand it.
About an hour later I went up and got my coveralls out of the
pantry, put them on, put the collar UP, pulled the sleeves DOWN,
found some gloves that came up over the sleeves. My wife laughed
and told me later that if I had had a surgical mask, I'd have had
THAT on. I got my toolbox, and crept across the street, real
late, over into Norman's bathroom, got the tools out and started
working on that thing and that one bolt that was left on it after
all these years...I tried to get a box-end wrench on it, just
wouldn't... Finally, I laid down on that old filthy floor, to
see up under that thing, took that wrench, and finally moved it a
little bit, and as I did, old rust and dirt fell down and hit me
right in the eye. But the Spirit of the Lord took care of it -
He spoke to me in that moment and said, "When you do it unto the
least of these, you do it unto me."
That changed me. I didn't care if anybody noticed. I
didn't want any acclamation for it. I didn't want any money. I
didn't care anymore. I began to see when it said, "If I give
away all my possessions and if I hand over my body...but I have
not love, it's for nothing." I began to see what Jesus was
talking about when he spoke of loving your neighbor as yourself.
God is not done with me yet. I know God has more for me to
learn, but now I know that the lessons God has us sometimes come
from the strangest places and the strangest people...even through
strange old men named Norman.
Amen.
1. Eventually the story resulted in a book which contains a much more detailed account than
is presented here - Mike Adkins, A Man Called Norman: the unforgettable story of an uncommon
friendship, Pomona, Calif. : Focus on the Family Pub. ; Dallas, Tex. : Distributed by Word Books,
1989
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