“Three points and a poem”
This is how pastors were once taught years to structure their sermons. While it was mostly a joke, my first homiletics (preaching) professor in seminary—a distinguished man in his late 60’s—instructed me and my classmates to always do just this.
Due to my rebellious nature as a younger man, I balked at the three points system. I’d often write sermons with one, two, even five points to demonstrate my non-conformity.
But over the years, I’ve become a massive fan of the triad. In fact, I consistently aim to group concepts into three’s as it’s the easiest way to recall information. With my daughter on the cusp of adulthood, I’m in the prime of dispelling life-lessons (#dadlfacts) and deliberately organize my musings into three points of easy-to-remember aphorisms.
I ultimately moved to submit to “the three” through a chance encounter with a peculiar couple.
Almost twenty years ago, Kelly and I led a small group at our megachurch. It was a “thrown-together” group with folk from completely different backgrounds in the congregation. One of the older couples, Ron and Faye, stood out. She would arrive to Bible study dressed to the nines, always wearing a dress as if it was a formal party. He would show up in an old polo shirt and wearing a sun-faded baseball hat. Over the weeks, we learned more and more of their life story and, with every layer of new info, I was both shocked and intrigued.
In the midst of one of our small group gatherings, she began a sentence by saying, “When I was coaching Liberace . . .”
What? I had her repeat it, thinking I misheard her. Millennials and younger might need to use the Google to discover the identity of this dead celebrity, but the idea that Liberace was coached by anyone, let alone Faye, was a surprise itself.
“Do you even play the piano?” I asked.
“Oh, not that well. But I didn’t need to. I was helping him visualize what he needed to do to be a better performer.”
At that moment, I was ready to take the Bible study off the rails. As I mined deeper, Faye told me about her academic work.
“I have two PhD’s. Over the years, my research revealed that any task, no matter how complex, can be distilled into three action items. I coach people how to figure out the three.”
I had so many questions, but I could tell that no one else in the group was as interested as I. While we moved on to more spiritual matters, I cornered Faye and Ron once Bible study was over.
“So three things, huh? It really works?”
“In every situation,” Faye responded. “We make this world too complex. If we just simplified everything, we’d live much more fulfilling lives.”
“It’s how I structure my golf lessons,” Ron chimed in. He had shared his vocation a few weeks earlier; apparently the worn-out polo and hat were his uniform on the golf course. Ron used his wife’s triad methodology to help teach golfers to play the game.
“Everyone thinks golf is hard, but it’s really not. All you need to do is three things: hit the ball, if you slice it, turn your hands over sooner, if you hook it, turn your hands over later. That’s it.”
I had more questions about this golf methodology than Liberace. I had so many questions but not nearly enough time.
“Just simplify your life, Steve,” she summarized. “Everything is about three things. Find those three and you’ll be successful.”
And then they left for the evening.
They actually stopped coming to the small group after that. I’m not sure I ever talked to either of them ever again.
I was intent on finding a copy of Faye’s dissertation but never could. Our interaction took place in the early days of the internet so, every few years, I’d try looking online again. I never found it. It was as if it never existed.
And it might not have. In the following months, Faye had some unfortunate interactions with people at church. She apparently started yelling at a Sunday school teacher for how they were teaching her grandkids poorly. Since I got along with her, I offered to intervene but, ultimately, Faye and Ron left our church. I know he passed away almost a decade ago. I’m not sure what happened to her.
Whenever I’m dispelling dad lessons and grouping things into three, I occasionally think of Faye.
Maybe she was crazy. Maybe it was all made up. But three works for me.
The Story of Three