Snow Day

A snow day. The boys are out of school. Could pose a problem, except today is sermon prep day, and it’s easy enough to work with munchkins roaming around. In some ways it makes it easier, makes it real. Like the days when they boys were little, and they would be crawling around my feet, digging through my books on the Fathers. Andres Doimeadios, the new Hispanic pastor’s son, is here, too. Andres and Joe are in the same class at school, and my boys and he are already a goof troop. And maybe it was providential this way: preaching on Isaiah 49, and let’s just say, the boys’ being here brought something out of the Scripture: the goodness of the heart and will of God.

I baked a chicken for lunch. Never done that before, but it turned out ok. I was looking for something better and cheaper than chicken nuggets. Potatoes and carrots in the pan with the chicken. Pretty good. Really good actually. The boys each had seconds.

Some things you can skimp on, others you can’t. No point in buying generic hot cocoa mix. You have to spend for Swiss Miss. That’s a priceless home ec secret you can take to the bank.

We made a snow man early this morning. Carrot for a nose. What for the eyes? How about Ricola elderberry vitamin C supplements? Note to self: vitamin C and water form an exothermic reaction. There were two purple-streaked hollows where the eyes were. A right scary snowman.

There are so many weird things people say to me that I then think, “That needs to be on the blog.” But then I forget. Sorry. I wish I could share with everyone the weirdness that coalesces around me. I myself am normal. It’s just the people around me.

Lebowski Pancakes

Saturday, I went over to The Harper Chick's House for breakfast. Pancakes. But she didn't have any milk, so she took some powdered coffee creamer and added water, wondering if it would work. It did.

Garden Truck

It looks like we may have access to our garden spot this year. It was behind the school and the school has renovations planned. I went to beg if they could hold off until September, and they said sure. Now it looks like with the inevitable delays we may even have a fall garden. This is a good thing, because it keeps the garden in a visible place in the community, and we can take advantage of the ground having been worked up. Additionally, we can get some manure this winter and have it working in the soil before we plant.

Jason Childs got a new ride and so he was getting rid of his beater truck, a 90 Dodge 150, used as a landscape truck. It is a beast, a truck only Jamie Svec could love, but not even him, because he is a Ford man… But for $250, I think it’s a good deal, bum power steering pump and all. It will be useful for loading up veggies, hauling manure. I wonder how many people will come shovel manure with us?

Harper has this great idea to let the kids paint the truck. She also has some blackboard paint, so I may paint the door with that and hang a piece of chalk off the mirror, to write pithy things like “Turn or burn,” and “get right or get left.”

Getting ready for the new season has me thinking about how the garden should go. Corn, it seems to me, can be a waste. A lot of space and waiting for one shot of corn. Beans keep producing. I think this year, fewer tomatoes, more beans, more okra, more cukes, lots of onions, and definitely lots of cabbage.

I think, also, that this year, with some gardening under our belts, we’ll be able to use the garden more productively. I don’t mean for vegetables. I mean to grow fruit in our lives. We have the “social” side of community. That is, we get together reasonably often. But we neglect the two deep things that build community: prayer and common work. We have to break away from thinking we need more time “with” each other, getting to know each other in ways that, frankly, Kiwanis club or sororities do better. We need more time in prayer, the place where we get to know each others’ hearts. If week after week, we heard each others cries in prayer, joys in prayer, intercessions in prayer, victories in prayer, we would know each other. [Just an aside. I get to know a lot of what John and Joe are thinking by what they want to pray about. They both, Joe especially, have been praying for God to send us someone. Now he thanks God for “sending us Jessie.”] And finally, common work. Not tasks or projects. Real human work together bonds us. So I look back to last year, and being selfish, I recall how much I enjoyed pulling rocks out of the garden with Jason Dillard, or having a long conversation with Maggie picking beans. And it has magnified importance now that the first real, in-depth conversation I had with Jessica was at one end of the bean patch, 2 months before either of us realized there was anything there.

We need two more houses to have community dinners. We have to do that to have the space for them to grow. We could really have some breakthroughs with inviting new people, with bringing new people into the church. It has been the main area of growth the last 6 months.

One thing has become clear: some of the new people who are here with us are also very gifted at helping and cooking, and perhaps they are the ones to host the new work. We have to find a way to be open to allowing them to not simply come, but to plan and participate in the work.

Dancing Days Are Here Again

Wednesday evening, I asked Jessica to marry me.

She said yes.

Prayer and Preaching

About a year ago, I was meditating on the annunciation of John the Baptist’s birth, how it came at the time of burning of incense (prayer), and how in Revelation, the moment when it is revealed that Jesus is worthy to open the scroll ends with a description of the golden bowls of incense at the altar in Heaven. And the incense is the prayers of the saints. There was something deep about preaching there: John is the great preacher announcing Jesus, and the passage in Revelation (Chapter 5) is the core of the faith: Jesus is worthy of the honor, power, and glory bestowed on Him by the Father. I had been really seeking the Lord about preaching, and what kept coming through in some reading (E.M. Bounds particularly) was that preaching needs to be bathed in prayer. It needs to be more prayer than study, actually.

Let me share how things have gone since then. I do not think my preaching is “better.” But I think it has more force, or perhaps I am bolder. At any rate, some things kept coming out of the idea that I should give my preaching over to prayer—to praying about what Scriptures to preach, what to say, etc.

The first thing came when I started listening to some whining about preaching in French, how people could not follow the sermon, etc. So I laid off. But then the Africans started wondering why they were not able to really be part of the service. So I thought, I just have to keep on. But I was frustrated with how it broke things up for me, how when I have to stop to translate, I lose flow. This is the sick side of me. I like to tell stories in preaching, and it is hard for me to translate my crazy anecdotes into French. So I was partially ok with laying off preaching in French, because I felt more comfortable doing it in English, letting it flow how I wanted to, etc. What a chump. It took me a while to say, “I need to pray about this.” I did, and got the answer: “Prepare the sermon in French first.”

Ok, great. Then one day in our Monday prayers at Maggie’s house, I was just sitting there enjoying the prayer time, the voices sharing with each other, with God, when He broke in: “Prepare the sermon on your knees.” I knew that I had been praying over my sermons, and letting prayer lead it all, and I knew this was not a metaphorical way of talking. This was literal. I was supposed to prepare the sermon not only by prayer, but on my knees.

Not long after this, when I had not shared this with many people, and not yet Jessica, Jessica got me a prayer kneeler. I had mentioned that I wanted one, but not why (and when I mentioned it I had no specific reason why, just that I like to pray). I used to think I would put the prayer kneeler upstairs when I moved the boys room downstairs. But then I thought the problem with the boys being upstairs was all their toys were up there, and they never really played with much. I did not want prayer to be an after thought. So now the prayer kneeler kind of rolls around the living room, ending up here and there. And the sermon gets done there.

Tuesday Night and Wednesday Morning

It’s the beginning of January, and I get to ride my bike. Crazy. I have been pedaling around town and feeling great. It’s brisk, but good. Much as I like to walk, you can really cover some ground with a bike, and still keep an eye on things. Curtis was on his bike all morning, too. I know this must seem like a strange church.

Last night, after some visiting (hit and miss; one guy told us when we knocked, “no one’s here.” Can Yogi Berra do any better?), Jessica and I went on a strange ride. We were looking, as well as you can, in the dark, for open lots where we can do some gardening. And then I showed her the three apple trees I know of in town, where you can get a five finger discount. I got to know these trees 12 years ago now, when I lived downtown and roamed the streets. I have thought about making a map that is a survey of edible plants in town. A sort of hobo’s map, if you will. Anyway, she got my nickel tour of a certain section of town I know well, showed her the best mechanic in town, and then the apple that grows in a secluded corner (if a branch gets over the sidewalk, it’s fair game, or so I like to think…). Then came big drops of rain. Cold, almost spring-like. We made a break for it, laughing and getting wet. It’s hard to explain—it’s good to be with someone who knows how to have a good time, who thinks that looking at bare apple trees on a winter’s night is fun.

In prayer and fasting today, 8 people. Andres (our new pastor in the Hispanic service) and Juan Carlos (a pastor from Cuba) joined us and mentioned that Wednesday is their day of fasting, too. Praise God. Let me just say, as I so (too, to some people) often do: Jesus says the same thing about fasting as He does about praying: “When” (not “If”) you do it. No one would ever say, “I don’t feel called to pray,” but they have the guts to say that about fasting. Andres busted out an accordion and started playing. He said it was for “Culto mobil,” “portable worship,” on the street.

That's My Boy!

So Jessica’s brother (in the Army) gave John and Joe some MRE’s, the military field rations. They are so much better than the C-rations my old man would let me have. These things are in a big pouch that has its own heating element. Anyway, before school one day, John got hot because he could not take his MRE for lunch.

The Mechanics of Grief

I wonder who are these people, who let me into their homes? I love the ministry of pastoral visitation, learned it from Howard Willen, and I constantly gain on the job experience. What an honor it is to be allowed into the homes of parishioners. To get to know people in a more intimate setting. To get used to the sights, sounds and smells of different houses. For example, it is very cozy to sit in Thelma’s kitchen.

Or today, to talk to Lida Fugate. We are some sort of compatriots. Her husband died in the time that I have been at the Rock. She is an older lady, and somehow she and Melissa became friends even tho I do not think they ever spoke. Lida wrote Melissa a card every week. She talked about Jay (her husband) and the struggle of taking care of him, and then the grief when he died. Melissa wrote back once, in the terrible shaky handwriting of someone whose body doesn’t have the strength to hold a pen. It took her days to write the short note.

In Lida’s house there are all kinds of pictures her husband took. At Christmas time there is the little nativity set they made in 63. She still keeps the grass they cut to make straw, tied it in little bundles. It’s a simple wooden shed with little figurines. It shows all the signs of being made for a family that was just getting started, didn’t have much money.

Lida got to talking about how hard it was to take care of Jay for the last ten years of his life. He was diabetic, double amputee, kidney failure. The cleaning, the worrying if the fistula was bleeding. She said she did not sleep much for getting up to look under the sheet with a flashlight to make sure the fistula was ok. I shared with her the importance of keeping vigil beside loved ones, as if we would do it for Jesus.

We got to a place where she and I talked heavy things. [Who is the pastor in such a moment?] I mentioned that around this time last year there was so much confusion. On one level, Melissa thought she was not going to make it, that it was too far from the transplant to be having the troubles she was having. But then there were moments when things looked favorable.

But I remember her sense of wondering why did she go through all of it. I remember before the transplant, a moment when she wondered if she should go through with it. I have spent a month or so really regretting that I did not have the guts to tell her it was ok if she did not want to do it. There was so much in that; did she mention that she wasn’t sure just because you can never be sure about something as serious, as grueling as a bone marrow transplant? Or was she floating it out there to see what I would say? I was too much into avoiding any thought that she might not make so I had no way of saying, “it’s ok if you don’t want to do it.” I don’t know; it may not have anything to do with anything, but I have been wondering if my own selfishness got in the way of anything she may have wanted. Of course, it did. But to what extent? Not a profitable way of thinking, I know. But it’s how it is. And it is good to be in a place, to be talking to someone who knows exactly what you mean.

Jay went blind and had a hard time feeding himself. Lida would cook corn cakes, frying them small so he could hold them and eat them. What a touching gesture. She said recently she made a good meal for some friends—white beans, fried potatoes, beets, and corn cakes. When she went to dollop out the corn cakes, she made them small, without thinking, and broke down.

Hmmm....

This morning, in the second service, two people came forward to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. It is the fruit not simply of preaching, but of relationship. Both people have strong relationships with a number of people in the congregation, and they have been shown the love of God. There is a witness there that goes beyond the idea that “witness” is going to be telling them about Jesus and His death on the Cross. Sometimes you have to show people Jesus, you have to show how His death on the Cross has impacted your life, to make you the person you are, showing an unnatural love. We’ve had enough of the world’s love.

Random Thoughts

I. Ok so I have not posted in forever. So here are the random thoughts that have been going through my head.

We have had a breakthrough, I think, with John and Joe. We’ve been working hard on some things, and one of them is trying to figure out to keep Melissa’s memory alive for them. With John, it’s easier. He has a lot of memories. Joe just doesn’t. And Joe has been really hesitant about saying anything, period. I eat lunch with the boys on Fridays at school, and it seems like every time one of the classmates will ask if it’s true that their mommy died. John takes it in stride, Joe almost seems to wince.

Well, John did some Christmas shopping at school and among other things bought some candles, he said for Mommy, who very much liked candles. All weekend, John talked about Melissa and lit the candles at meal time. That was probably the longest block of time John talked about things. And then, Monday night, Joe asked, “Did Mommy die because her heart stopped working?” Not just a detailed question, but any question was surprising to hear from him. I think John’s recent openness gave Joe some permission to do the same.

And part of it could be that it’s Christmas. We got out all the Christmas stuff, and Jessica was very keen to get all the traditional stuff out for the boys. So the Christmas village that my mom adds to each year is up on the mantle. And the ornaments (as many as can fit on our tiny tree) are up. So in some way, it looks like it used to. And somehow, we are joyful. John came back from his grandparent’s house with a card he made with a picture of Melissa when she was about 10. He looks just like her! He said it was from before she got sick “So you wont have to cry, Daddy.”

II. The Year of the Unkempt and Inappropriate Pastor

This is what Laura Gallaher said on the card she made me for my birthday. Ha ha. I do wear a lot of flannel… We eat a lunch at Al’s Bar every so often. It’s got good food and we’re trying to make as many contacts in the neighborhood as we can. So one day I go in and there is this (and here the political correctness is just going to go out the window) black midget with some mistletoe sticking out of her do-rag. She said to no one in particular, “This is what you need” and then held out her arms for me to hug her and presented her cheek for a peck. A lady got up from the bar on the way to play pool and said, “You don’t need no mistletoe,” and coyly stuck her cheek out, too. I have to tell it on myself before the kinds of people who look for things to tear down ministry have anything to say about it. I protest too much; but then I know how some people think. At the end of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a poem about (among other things) honor and fidelity to God, there is an inscription, “HSQMP.” That’s medieval French for “hony soit qui mal pense” or “shame to him who thinks evil thoughts.” Or we might better quote Psalm 1: “Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, go along with sinners, or sit in the seat of mockers.” For too long people have taken that to mean: “avoid the tough places and inappropriate people.” But if that were its meaning, then Jesus surely would have been guilty. He never would have talked to whores, much less touched them. No, the meaning of these words is not about fear, but about power. There is a part of the work of God that is not afraid of the unrighteous, but trusts that the power of God in us will bring light to dark places. So since we do not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or go along with sinners, or sit in the seat of mockers, when we walk into the places where such things happen, when we infiltrate those kinds of lives, running a mission station three feet from Hell (that is, not from the comforts of our “righteous” homes), well, “let there be light…”

III. On A Mission

A key feature of establishing the Rock for the future is to make it a community church. A reason that Epworth Methodist Church (the place that became the Rock) fell on hard times was because everyone moved away and there was next to no effort to reach the changing neighborhood. We’re making strides, seeing people from right down the street in numbers we have not before. Our children’s ministry has done a great job bringing in community kids, and Melissa and her volunteers do a great job of getting to know the families.

John, our youth pastor has done the same, and this weekend (Dec 16) we confirmed 6 kids and baptized two. They are neighborhood kids and we are able to reach out to their parents as well. The work is slow, because building trust and relationships is slow.

The next step will be connecting our benevolence work in the community with evangelism. Exciting times ahead!

IV. We got your back

So 3 weeks ago, one of our youth got beat up on his way home after Sunday Service. Laura G (youth pastor’s wife) saw the kids who did it and she chased them. I mean she flat out chased them. They had a huge head start on her and she still almost caught them. I am guessing she and Michael Tussey (a 6^th grader) ran close to 6 blocks. She saw them run into a house and she banged on the door demanding to know who the kids were. Whoever answered did not know what do with the crazy white girl, and made like he had no idea what she was talking about. Then the cavalry showed up. Charley, who had shed a sweater and was in his wife-beater, then Don Ellis shows up in his panel-body van and a few more people spill out. The miscreants had made their escape out the back door, but the people decided they did not want any trouble and gave up the names of the kids. This is an Acts 2 church. Josh McDonald pointed out to me that the early Christians lived together and shared with each other because it was too dangerous not to. So maybe the new motto at the Rock needs to be: “The Rock: We’ve Got Your Back.”

V. Gold Star Theology

After church, Jessica, John, Joe and I met Steve McKinney and his lovely wife Connie for Gold Star. Steve and I weren’t the only ones there, but when we get to Gold Star, it feels like we are… We ended up on a topic we get to every now and again: thankfulness. We wonder why us and not others? Why have we been saved? Why is God’s grace at work in our lives? I sometimes wonder—what are the words, what is the way to help people get it. But it is just a mysterious gift from God. Steve said that if we knew how we got it, then we’d think we deserved it. It’s all grace. The Holy Spirit does this amazing work. We witness to what He has done, we preach the Truth of God, and it ends there. The Holy Spirit…