A LASTING IMPRESSION

A Story Appropriate for the Season of Lent:

I grew up in a small community in the mountains of Virginia.  The little church we attended was as simple and uncomplicated in its style of worship as the building that housed it: clean, uncomplicated, unsophisticated, and un-ceremonial.

I became a minister at age 26, and soon discovered how my home church had not prepared me to be a pastor of a more traditional (think “ordinary”) church.  The expectations of the small congregation I pastored in those early years were often for things with which I had no experience.

Nothing illustrates that better than what happened in my very first Ash Wednesday service.  Whatever my intentions and expectations may have been entering the pastoral ministry, as it happens I came to make a truly lasting impression in my very first year.

I had never in all my life been to an Ash Wednesday service, and since I was a student pastor (still in college at the time, after four years in the U.S. Navy) I had not yet taken any courses in how to do the service.  So, I sought the input of a retired minister who attended our services.

He answered all of my questions, and I prepared the service.  Un-fortunately I did not know all the questions that needed to be asked; which is what lead to my leaving a lasting impression.

I didn’t know to ask where I would get the ashes for the service.  It seemed like a no-brainer: I would have to burn something to create them.  And so I did.  I burned a couple of old bulletins that I found in the office, and then I ground the ashes into a fine grain with a mortar and pestle that my dad had given me.

I took the ashes and mixed them with water.  During the worship service I had the people line up for their ashes, where they would receive the sign of the cross on their foreheads.  This was to remind each of us that we were but dust, and we were sinners.  At the close of the service I had them wipe off their ashes because we have all, in fact, been forgiven through the death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.

Here’s where the lasting impression was made.  I had mixed the paper ashes with water.  That formed the acid known as lye.  The acid reacted with the skin on our foreheads, and after the ashes were wiped off, a red rash remained.  Of course it was in the same shape as I had made the ashes: the shape of a cross.

Talk about witnessing!  Everywhere any of us went for the next few days, people knew we were Christians!  After that lasting impression was made the retired minister explained that we are supposed to burn dried palm fronds from the previous year’s Palm Sunday service and use those ashes, mixed with olive oil.

Never again have I left that type of lasting impression on Ash Wednesday.  I’ll never forget the comment of one of my young adult members the day after that service, when I was finally able to laugh about it.  He said, “You really made an ash of yourself last night, Preacher.”

So true, so very true.

THE HOSPITALITY HAT

Let mutual love continue.  Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.  Greet all your leaders and all the saints ...”  - Hebrews 13:1, 2, 24a

In the Fall of 2008 my wonderful wife Debbie finally saw things my way (all husbands understand this comment, so please, wives, do not be offended; we need you to be the brakes at time to our eager ideas of what we’d like to spend money on!) and agreed that we really did need a new outdoor gas grill (the old one had at last become unusable). So, the search was on. Within a few days we were in a well-known national home building big box store and saw a great $300.00 grill on sale for $200.00. No one offered to help us decide on a grill, in fact no one paid any attention to us at all. We had some questions about the grill, and we approached a checkout operator to ask those questions.

I simply started that conversation by saying, “We found a grill we are interested in and…”  We were interrupted by the clerk holding up her hand in stop-sign fashion, saying, “Unless you have your own truck there’s a $79.00 charge for delivery.” We stopped dead in our tracks. We lived only ten miles from this store, and even with gas prices above $4.00 a gallon that seemed ridiculous. Debbie told the clerk that we had gotten large items on sale at this chain before and often the delivery was included in the sale price. The clerk went to the manager and then reported that he, too, has said it would cost us nearly $80.00 have them deliver the grill.

Now you need to note this: at no time did anyone attempt to sell us a grill! All that was done in that store that day in the way of “customer service” was to warn us of the new, higher delivery charge. So, we left. There is another store in this chain that was only two and a half miles from our home. We stopped by there on our way back home, and a manager was arranging grills outside for a sale display, and one that looked like the one we had seen at the other store was included. As he was fastening the chain on the grill display I approached and said, “I saw a grill on sale at your Waynesboro store and I was wondering if you have the same model on sale here.” He looked up, never batted an eye, and said, “Unless you have your own truck there is a $79.00 charge for delivery.” We stopped in our tracks, and both of us said not another word, but turned and walked back to our car and left.

We checked for grills at several smaller local hardware stores, but they had nothing of the equivalent. Then a month or so later, after I had abandoned the idea of getting a grill before winter, I was in the ACE Hardware store in Verona . There, in the middle of that small box store, was a beautiful grill, similar to the one I had seen in the other store. It was also on sale for $100.00 off, but it was priced $50.00 higher than the other one because it also had a rotisserie feature. Robin, a delightful twenty-something clerk approached me and offered to show me the grills feature, to “sell” me the grill in fact. So, when I saw that I liked it, I asked about delivery charges, and she asked how far away I lived. I told her it was close to five miles, and she laughed and said, “Oh, there’s no charge for a delivery that close!”

I bought that grill, paying $50.00 more, but actually $29.00 less, since there was no delivery charge. More importantly, ACE got a customer for life. By the way, I told Robin the story of my earlier attempts to buy a grill at the big box store, and she later told her boss, who told them store employees at a meeting that afternoon. When they delivered the grill the next afternoon the delivery guy handed me a brand new ACE hat! He said, “This is from our store manager in appreciation for your business and also for your great lesson on the importance of good customer service.” I wear it with pride!

There’s a lesson here for the church: We also need to be sure to practice good “customer service,” that is, we need to care, really care, about the needs of other who come to worship with us, first-time-attenders and regulars alike. So may I suggest that we all be “ACE” customer service reps by giving those initials, A., C., and E., a new meaning: “A Caring Environment” is what every person should experience at Bridgewater United Methodist Church each and every Sunday. Will you do all you can to help us in that? I hope so! God will bless you and us for being A.C.E.s!

Why, as a Christian, the Alabama Governor's Comments Concern Me

I think I am among the most blessed people on the face of the earth. Seriously, I do. And I had very little to do with being such a blessed person. I didn't choose to be born in the U.S., but I am so glad I was. I didn't choose to be born of the Caucasian race, but I think - at least in this country - that it is a blessing that I was. I didn't choose to be born into a church-attending, God fearing family, but because I was, I was blessed to be exposed to the teachings of Jesus, and to have thus given my life to Christ.

Think how hard it would be for me to become a Christian if I had been born in a different land, to people of a different faith. I imagine that somehow I manage to come to America, a land that cherishes freedom, especially freedom of religion. After I get here I hear of the Christian faith, but I don't know anything about it. I meet my new neighbors, who look at me suspiciously because I am different. I learn, in time, that some of them attend the Christian churches in the neighborhood. No one ever invites me, I feel their suspicions, and I don't fully understand it. In time I hear bits and pieces of the Christian faith expressed (through conversations, newspaper and television), and I am intrigued by a religion that is based on love and grace and forgiveness. Yet I do not feel loved by my Christian neighbors. I try to live a good and responsible life, and in time I am able to become a citizen of the U.S. I am unable to worship at a place of my birth religion, because so few of us live in the area of the U.S. where I live with my family. I think about maybe going to a Christian church, but I am fearful because I do not know how I am to behave, what is expected of me. Remember, no one has told me that God loves ME, or that Jesus, God's own Son, died for MY sins.

And then I hear the governor of my state say that anyone like me - anyone who is not a Christian - is not in his family. I don't know what that means, but it sounds an awful lot like what the leaders of the religious dictatorship I managed to escape would have said. And I am afraid, very afraid, that I will be denied the protection of this state government that I thought was mine, no matter what my faith. I also think that maybe Christianity is more like my religion than I had thought, and that it if you don't believe like they do you may have no value.

Thank God, that is not my story, but I can take no credit for that fact at all. I can, however, lift my voice and decry prejudice and persecution in the name of religion - even my religion - whenever I see it raise its ugly head.

Realizing the Extent of God's Grace and Blessings Results in Generous Giving

People often tell me that I am talented and gifted, and in some areas I am.  Money management is not one of those areas.  I can honestly own up to that fact simply because it has been shown to be true over and over through the years.  One of the many reasons I am so grateful for my wife, Debbie, is that she is a very capable money manager.

In my young adult years I was ashamed to be so poor at managing my meager financial resources yet I would not seek help from my parents.  The consequence was that during my freshman year at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU) I worked at three part-time jobs and lived on candy bars and Pepsi Cola.  My parents would have been shocked to know this, of course, and I didn’t want to use any more of their meager resources than necessary (nor did I want to hear a “sermon” from my Dad on money management).  They were operating a boarding school for severely disabled adults, and they needed everything they had just to keep it afloat. Of course, they would have helped, had I asked.

Instead, the three jobs and the long hours they occupied in my life, plus my subsequent tiredness, took their toll on my studies; and in the summer following my first year I dropped out and joined the Navy.  My parents were devastated by this decision, as this was in 1968, and the Vietnam War was taking the lives of many of our nation’s young men.  As it turned out I did not go to Vietnam; after boot camp and photography school, I spent two years in Meridian, Mississippi, and nineteen months aboard a ship in the northern Atlantic Ocean.

Not Much to Show for the Effort

When I was discharged from the Navy in December of 1972, I had managed to save enough for a new car. That was it. And after I purchased my dream car, a 1972 Plymouth Barracuda, I had nothing left. I moved to Cincinnati, to an apartment on the second floor of my uncle’s house, and began to look for work. It was 1973 and the oil crisis was beginning to change how we spent our money. Gas was expensive and hard to find. So were jobs.

Even though veterans were at the top of the list in the employment agencies, I went weeks without work. My Uncle Bud was as understanding as he could be, but I was getting further and further behind in my rent. I finally found a job as a glass-blower in a thermometer factory (that sounds like a joke, I know, but it really was my job title). That job lasted less than a month (my only time ever working in a factory); then I worked as a shoe salesman (and got to meet Pete Rose). Later I found work as a traveling photographer, going to beauty salons and photographing the customers after their hair was done. That job evaporated due to the rising cost of fuel.  By then Uncle Bud had asked me to “relocate,” so soon I was living in an efficiency apartment in a boarding house for $10.00 a week.  It wasn’t long before I was unable to pay that rent or even eat healthy meals.

It Had Never Occurred to Me to Ask God for Help

Though I was raised in the church, it was no longer a part of my life. I sometimes thought of my self as an atheist, or at least as an agnostic.  I felt ashamed for having gotten myself into such a state of poverty and distress, and I refused to ask my parents for help, or even let them know how bad off I was.  The fact is, I had been a self-serving person for years.  I didn’t care what God wanted for me, and I was not going to allow God to influence how I lived.

I will tell you in another post of how God rescued me from that situation. But suffice it to say for now that I finally reached the point of such desperation that I cried out to God, and God heard me and brought me out of fear, poverty and distress.

The Widow Has Her Priorities Right

In this blog post I want us to consider the account of Jesus and his followers observing a poor widow in the temple who gave all she had to God.  Jesus says it was “all she had to live on.” Probably money managers of today would call her foolish; but Jesus considered her to be blessed.

Your church – wherever you attend - does not want all that you have to live on, but each of us who is a part of a church family should contribute their fair share.  It isn’t about how much one gives (the widow gave only two small coins), but rather it is about giving as much as one should.  So what is one’s “fair share”?  The simplest answer would be to say 10%.  Indeed if everyone gave 10% of their income, the church would collect funds far in excess of our budget!  And it would be fair to all, since all would give equally of their income. But, I know that if you have never been a tither before then the thought of giving ten percent seems incredible.

The more realistic proposal for how to give your “fair share” is to suggest that we each give a percentage portion of your income; if not 10%, then perhaps 7% or 5% or even 4%. God will bless any committed effort to consistently give to God’s work.  I would also encourage any of us who are giving according to a plan to give a bit more than you think you can afford.  I truly believe that anyone who does will be amazed at how God will bless their sincere effort to give their fair share.

After God rescued me from the brink of disaster in Cincinnati, how could I not give back? I know that some preach the idea of “giving to get” (give God money so you can receive blessings), but I am not one of those. Oh, I do believe that God blesses us when we bless others; but that is the natural result of generosity, and should not be the goal of the giver. I prefer to say we should give because we have truly been blessed. I believe with all my heart that if you will step out in faith and make a percentage pledge to your church, you will be able, by the grace of God, to give more than you ever imagined, and thus bless the church and the God who has blessed you time and time again.

Dear Lord, you gave your all for us. You did not hold back in any way. We are grateful for your sacrificial love and grace. We pray that you will meet the needs of our churches and members in the coming year, and that we will be enabled to step out in faith and trust you as we give and live in 2011. Please guide us by your Holy Spirit to give to others who are in need as well.  In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

Did You Know: Cars Cost Less than Candy Bars!

One of my favorite “duties” at Bridgewater United Methodist Church, where I am the Associate Pastor for Congregational Care, is having the Children’s Moments during the 11:00 a.m. worship service.

Today I wanted to talk to them a little bit about the meaning of Halloween, and suggest ways for them to make it a fun day.  I also wanted to relate Halloween with All Saints Day.  On top of all that I wanted to put something into their hands that would help them remember what I said, but I did not want that to be candy, since I was sure they would get plenty of candy tonight as they go trick-or-treating.  The solution I came up with was to give each of them a Hotwheels toy car.  Did you know that you can still purchase Hotwheels and Matchbox cars for less than a dollar?  They sell for 99 cents at Walmart.  Think of it…that’s nearly fifty cents less than the average full size candy bar!

So, perhaps you are wondering what toy cars have to do with Halloween.   Well, as I explained to the boys and girls, Halloween is the day before All Saints Day (which is always on November 1^st), and has become a bid deal largely because of generations of superstition.  I explained to them that a superstition is a silly belief that really has no basis in reality, such as “step on a crack, break your mother’s back,” or “break a mirror and have seven years bad luck.”  We had some laughs about those.  I told them that all the evil and bad parts of Halloween come from silly superstitions, and that they needed to just have fun, and not be scared.  As long as they were not tricking anyone they should have a fun time.

Then I talked to them about the importance of All Saints Day.  I explained that saints are the wonderful Christian men and women who were a part of the church before us and have now died and live with Jesus in heaven.  All Saints Day is one day when we remember them and thank God for them.  I told them about my grandparents who lived in Florida when I was little, and how I didn’t know them well because I hardly ever got to see them.  But, they were very special to me because they ate the kind of cereal that had toy cars in the bottom of the box.  Then they would mail to cars to me in Virginia.  I loved those little cars.  They were plastic and the same size as my Matchbox cars. 

Today I gave each of the children a Hotwheels car to honor my grandparents and to help them see that God has blessed us with wonderful families, and God has blessed the church with wonderful saints who, like my grandparents, have set the example of how to live the Christian life.

End-Note: There’s more to the story of my Florida grandparents (a truly great lesson to be learned from them) which I will write about during the Advent season, just before Christmas.

HOW TO GET IN GOD'S WAY (And Lose a Church Member)

Whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. “When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. - Matthew 6:5-8 NRSV
 Wait for the Lord, and keep to his way...  - Psalm 37:34a NIV

What is it that compels us to feel we must answer our own prayers, or drives us to not wait upon the Lord, but just barge ahead and do it ourselves?  So often when we do that we end up getting in God's way, and we cheat ourselves out of the discovery that God had indeed heard our prayer, and was about to answer it - according to God's will, not ours.  The worse case scenario is that in foolishly rushing ahead of God we ay inadvertently (or even worse, intentionally) hurt others.

Such is the case in this true story.  [NOTE: I have changed some details to hide the "who," the "where" and the "when."]  Nearly four decades ago in a rural community "Jed*" owned a small gas station/grocery store just down the road from a little Methodist Church.  Anyone anywhere could be guilty, even today, of rush to judgment, and getting in God's way.

Many of the members of the church were his regular customers, and they often invited him to church activities, but he never came; that is, until he came to their revival (to this day he cannot tell why he went).  At the revival, much to his surprise, and to the surprise of the church members, he accepted Christ as his personal savior, and he began to attend church there. Soon he was attending the only adult Sunday school class; and, in the tradition of too many churches then and now, it wasn't long before he was taking a turn teaching the class.

Once he started teaching the class he was forced to get serious about getting into the Word of God. He started studying for the lesson on Sunday afternoon, and by Saturday he had it pretty well figured out.  What he lacked in skill and knowledge he made up for in enthusiasm.  There is nothing more compelling and exciting than the lessons of one who is learning and discovering the age old Bible stories for the first time.  That pure, child-like joy he manifested as he came to understand the Bible soon resulted in his becoming the only teacher of the class.

Jed taught the class for several weeks, and as he studied and prepared the lessons, God would speak to his heart and convict him of attitudes and behaviors. He was repenting and turning from something nearly every week, and he wondered if God would ever be done with him. He was also an increasingly compassionate man, and his concern for the poor and hurting was growing and becoming contagious.

Meanwhile, a woman in his class (one of its former teachers) was becoming increasingly agitated because he still sold cigarettes and beer at his station.  She began to work in the background to get others in the class upset about this.  Of course, neither she nor anyone else in the class ever mentioned these concerns to him, even though they all bought their gasoline and some of their daily groceries from him.  Some of them were praying for God to touch his heart and help him see the error of his ways.

While this concern was growing God was reaching out to him through his daily Bible readings and prayer times. He began to be concerned that selling cigarettes and beer was a poor witness for Jesus. Finally one week, when the beer truck driver came he had him remove all the beer. "You'll never stay in business without beer," he threatened; but, it proved to not be true.

The cigarette man said much the same thing, but Jed insisted that he remove the cigarettes from his store anyway. To this day he does not sell either (or lottery tickets!), and he is still in business.

He was humbly excited about this decision, and ashamed that he had taken so long to catch on.  He was looking forward to church the next Sunday and to telling the class what God had done.  He never got the chance.  When he stood to teach that Sunday, before he could share anything about what he had done that week, the woman who was so angry with him stood and publicly denounced him for calling himself a "Christian" while still selling cigarettes and beer.

He was shocked and hurt, but he said nothing. He simply closed the lesson book, picked up his Bible and left the church. He drove a dozen miles or so to the closest small town and found a church of a different denomination.  He never went back, and it was many days before the other members of the class actually looked around his station and saw that he no longer sold beer and cigarettes.  To this day he is a very active member of the church in town.

They told the woman in Sunday school about his changes, but her heart had grown hard, and she refused to believe them.  They never did invite her to be their teacher again, and sadly she became more and more embittered over the years.  Not trusting that God would hear and answer a prayer for his heart to change, she chose "play god" and cost that small church a very valuable member and teacher.

Do not judge, and you will not be judged.  Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.  Forgive, and you will be forgiven.  - Luke 6:37 NIV