I gasped. "George Nye has been Sunday school superintendent for forty-seven years?"
"Yep. He's an institution here at First Church," I was told.
Stability, I thought. It will be great to have at least one position where I won't have to beg someone to take charge.
For a young seminarian at his first church, what an awesome discovery: George already had been supervising the Sunday school for twenty years when I was born. He had witnessed the coming and going of eight pastors. When he started, the streets in town weren't paved, the farmers in the countryside didn't have electricity, and half the homes still had outhouses. And he assured me everything in the Sunday school was under control.
I casually asked George one day when the next Sunday school teachers' meeting would be.
"Why?" he growled.
"Oh, I just want to get to know everyone," I stammered.
"I gave you a list of the workers," he reminded me. "We don't have meetings unless I feel there is a need. We'll probably have one in December to plan ...1