Fellowship Presbyterian Church

The Journey: A Year Later

2010-05-03T07:54:00.002-04:00

One year ago Fellowship Presbyterian Church was at the beginning of a journey. We had no idea how it would go much less come out. On June 1st will mark the one year anniversary of our Interim Pastor, Joel Long and a little over one year into our journey from one pastor to another.

Joel has been a blessing to our congregation. He has brought in an eye that not only sees our shortcomings, but an eye on how to improve those shortcomings and an eye for our strong points and how to make them stronger. He has pointed out with love and care what we need to do to improve our church and how to do it. With a year gone by, we have seen a reformation of sorts take place in our church.

While we have seen some members drift away during this time, we have seen members who drifted away come back. We have met new friends and are learning how to improve relations with members and friends we have. While life continues to be no bed of roses yet, the potential of our church is becoming clearer and clearer by the day. We are on the ground floor of a new and wonderful church we are now building!!

While our usual congregational size is smaller than it once was, it has stabilized and we are now seeing more visitors than in the past. We are also seeing more members pick up the mantle of responsibility and the church is functioning more like a team without always looking to the minister all the time.

Looking over the last 12 months, it has become obvious that we needed a change but we couldn't see it. While we still do not have an idea who the new minister will be and won't for at least another 6 to 8 months, finances have stabilized as well. Even though money continues to be a problem like every other church in the country with this Recession, we are paying all of our bills with income through the normal channels. This is a great blessing.

While the "Fellowship canvas" is still blank, the paint is out and opened and the brushes are about to be brought out. The artist is formulating is plans. The PNC or Pastor Nominating Committee will be in place by early summer. The remaining work to calling a permanent minister will begin in earnest. At that point, the painting that will be Fellowship Presbyterian Church of the future will start to take shape. The foundation to do the work required for this next phase is in place and appears to be a strong foundation. We are now beginning to put the pieces of the "who are we" puzzle into place. Once that is completed this summer, the PNC can start to interview possible candidates. We have been told to be prepared for an onslaught of applications once the window opens. We have been told by Salem Presbytery that this area and our church is "prime real estate" to ministers looking for a change themselves.

What one year ago looked depressing and problems never ending. Today looks much brighter and even sunny places. The only problem now is, "HURRY UP!"

But then, you can't hurry God. He will place the right person with us, in his own good time.

Today's Lesson

2009-07-27T13:15:00.002-04:00

I thought this had a good message and was worth sharing. What a lesson we can learn from this one.........

A young couple moves into a new neighborhood. The next morning while they are eating breakfast, The young woman sees her neighbor hanging the wash outside.

"That laundry is not very clean", she said. "She doesn't know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap." Her husband looked on, but remained silent.

Every time her neighbor would hang her wash to dry, The young woman would make the same comments. About one month later, the woman was surprised to see a Nice clean wash on the line and said to her husband:

"Look, she has learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this..

"The husband said, "I got up early this morning and Cleaned our windows."

And so it is with life. What we see when watching others depends on the purity of the window through which we look.

Little Things Make A BIG Difference

2009-06-22T07:59:00.001-04:00

The man slowly looked up. This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Her coat was new. She looked like she had never missed a meal in her life. His first thought was that she wanted to make fun of him, like so many others had done before.

"Leave me alone," he growled... To his amazement, the woman continued standing. She was smiling -- her even white teeth displayed in dazzling rows.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"No," he answered sarcastically. "I've just come from dining with the president. Now go away."

The woman's smile became even broader.

Suddenly the man felt a gentle hand under his arm. "What are you doing, lady?" the man asked angrily. "I said to leave me alone.

Just then a policeman came up. "Is there any problem, ma'am?" he asked.

"No problem here, officer," the woman answered. "I'm just trying to get this man to his feet. Will you help me?"

The officer scratched his head. "That's old Jack. He's been a fixture around here for a couple of years. What do you want with him?"

"See that cafeteria over there?" she asked. "I'm going to get him something to eat and get him out of the cold for awhile."

"Are you crazy, lady?" the homeless man resisted. "I don't want to go in there!" Then he felt strong hands grab his other arm and lift him up. "Let me go, officer. I didn't do anything."

"This is a good deal for you, Jack," the officer answered. "Don't blow it."
Finally, and with some difficulty, the woman and the police officer got Jack into the cafeteria and sat him at a table in a remote corner. It was the middle of the morning, so most of the breakfast crowd had already left and the lunch bunch had not yet arrived.

The manager strode across the cafeteria and stood by his table. "What's going on here, officer?" he asked. "What is all this, is this man in trouble?"

"This lady brought this man in here to be fed," the policeman answered.

"Not in here!" the manager replied angrily. "Having a person like that here is bad for business."

Old Jack smiled a toothless grin. "See, lady. I told you so. Now if you'll let me go. I didn't want to come here in the first place."

The woman turned to the cafeteria manager and smiled. "Sir, are you familiar with Eddy and Associates, the banking firm down the street?"

"Of course I am," the manager answered impatiently. "They hold their weekly meetings in one of my banquet rooms."

"And do you make a goodly amount of money providing food at these weekly meetings?"

"What business is that of yours?"

I, sir, am Penelope Eddy, president and CEO of the company."

"Oh."

The woman smiled again. "I thought that might make a difference."

She glanced at the cop who was busy stifling a laugh. "Would you like to join us in a cup of coffee and a meal, officer?"

"No thanks, ma'am," the officer replied. "I'm on duty."

"Then, perhaps, a cup of coffee to go?"

"Yes, ma'am. That would be very nice."

The cafeteria manager turned on his heel. "I'll get your coffee
for you right away, officer."

The officer watched him walk away. "You certainly put him in his place," he said.

"That was not my intent.... Believe it or not, I have a reason for all this."

She sat down at the table across from her amazed dinner guest. She
stared at him intently.

"Jack, do you remember me?"

Old Jack searched her face with his old, rheumy eyes. "I think so -- I mean you do look familiar."
"I'm a little older perhaps," she said. "Maybe I've even filled out more than in my younger days when you worked here, and I came through that very door, cold and hungry."

"Ma'am?" the officer said questioningly. He couldn't believe that such a magnificently turned out woman could ever have been hungry.

"I was just out of college," the woman began. "I had come to the city looking for a job, but I couldn't find anything. Finally I was down to my last few cents and had been kicked out of my apartment. I walked the streets for days. It was February and I was cold and nearly starving. I saw this place and walked in on the off chance that I could get something to eat."

Jack lit up with a smile. "Now I remember," he said. "I was behind the serving counter. You came up and asked me if you could work for something to eat. I said that it was against company policy."

"I know," the woman continued. "Then you made me the biggest roast beef sandwich that I had ever seen, gave me a cup of coffee, and told me to go over to a corner table and enjoy it. I was afraid that you would get into trouble. Then, when I looked over and saw you put the price of my food in the cash register, I knew then that everything would be all right."

"So you started your own business?" Old Jack said.

"I got a job that very afternoon. I worked my way up. Eventually I started my own business that, with the help of God, prospered." She opened her purse and pulled out a business card. "When you are finished here, I want you to pay a visit to a Mr. Lyons. He's the personnel director of my company. I'll go talk to him now and I'm certain he'll find something for you to do around the office."

She smiled. "I think he might even find the funds to give you a little advance so that you can buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you."

There were tears in the old man's eyes. "How can I ever thank you?" he asked.

"Don't thank me," the woman answered. "To God goes the glory. Thank Jesus.... He led me to you."

Outside the cafeteria, the officer and the woman paused at the entrance before going their separate ways. "Thank you for all your help, officer," she said..

"On the contrary, Ms.. Eddy," he answered. "Thank you... I saw a miracle today, something that I will never forget. And...And thank you for the coffee."

If you have missed knowing me, you have missed nothing.

If you have missed some of my emails, you might have missed a laugh.

But, if you have missed knowing my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, you have missed everything in the world.

Have a Wonderful Day. May God Bless You Always and don't forget that when you "cast your bread upon the waters," you never know how it will be returned to you. God is so big He can cover the whole world with his Love and so small He can curl up inside your heart.

When God leads you to the edge of the cliff, trust Him fully and let go.

Only 1 of 2 things will happen, either He'll catch you when you fall, or He'll teach you how to fly!

The power of one sentence! God is going to shift things around for you today and let things work in your favor. If you believe, send it. If you don't believe, delete it.

God closes doors no man can open & God opens doors no man can close.

THE SNEEZE

2009-04-29T07:39:00.002-04:00

I received this as an email from a friend a little while ago; and thought it was nice enough to share. - John Fair
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They walked in tandem, each of the ninety-two students filing into the already crowded auditorium. With their rich maroon gowns flowing .. and the traditional caps, they looked almost . as grown up as they felt.

Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and Moms freely brushed away tears.

This class would NOT pray during the commencements----not by choice, but because of a recent court ruling prohibiting it.

The principal and several students were careful to stay within the guidelines allowed by the ruling. They gave inspirational and challenging speeches, but no one mentioned divine guidance and no one asked for blessings on the graduates or their families.

The speeches were nice, but they were routine.....until the final speech received a standing ovation.

A solitary student walked proudly to the microphone. He stood still and silent for just a moment, - - - - - - -and then, it happened.

*
*
*
*
*
*
*

All 92 students, every single one of them, suddenly SNEEZED!!!!

The student on stage..... simply looked at the audience and said, 'GOD BLESS YOU, each and every one of you!' And he walked off stage...

The audience exploded into applause. This graduating class had found a unique way to invoke God's blessing on their future with or without the court's approval.

Isn't this a wonderful story?

GOD BLESS YOU!!!!

Happy Easter

2009-04-10T08:22:00.002-04:00

How appropriate for this Easter Weekend. This came to me as an E-Mail from a good friend last night. John Fair
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Edith Burns was a wonderful Christian who lived in San Antonio, Texas. She was the patient of a doctor by the name of Will Phillips. Dr. Phillips was a gentle doctor who saw patients as people. His favorite patient was Edith Burns.

One morning he went to his office with a heavy heart and it was because of Edith Burns. When he walked into that waiting room, there sat Edith with her big black Bible in her lap earnestly talking to a young mother sitting beside her.

Edith Burns had a habit of introducing herself in this way: "Hello, my name is Edith Burns. Do you believe in Easter?" Then she would explain the meaning of Easter, and many times people would be saved.

Dr. Phillips walked into that office and there he saw the head nurse, Beverly. Beverly had first met Edith when she was taking her blood pressure. Edith began by saying, "My name is Edith Burns. Do you believe in Easter?"

Beverly said, "Why yes I do."

Edith said, "Well, what do you believe about Easter?"

Beverly said, "Well, it's all about egg hunts, going to church, and dressing up." Edith kept pressing her about the real meaning of Easter, and finally led her to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.

After being called back in the doctor's office, Edith sat down and when she took a look at the doctor she said, "Dr. Will, why are you so sad? Are you reading your Bible? Are you praying?"

Dr. Phillips said gently, "Edith, "Your lab report came back and it says you have cancer, and Edith, you're not going to live very long."

Edith said, "Why Will Phillips, shame on you. Why are you so sad? Do you think God makes mistakes? You have just told me I'm going to see my precious Lord Jesus, my husband, and my friends. You have just told me that I am going to celebrate Easter forever, and here you are having difficulty giving me my ticket!"

Dr. Phillips thought to himself, "What a magnificent woman this Edith Burns is!"

Edith continued coming to Dr. Phillips. Christmas came and the office was closed through January 3rd. On the day the office opened, Edith did not show up. Later that afternoon, Edith called Dr. Phillips and said she would have to be moving her story to the hospital and said, "Will, I'm very near home, so would you make sure that they put women in here next to me in my room who need to know about Easter."

Well, they did just that and women began to come in and share that room with Edith. Many women were saved. Everybody on that floor from staff to patients were so excited about Edith, that they started calling her Edith Easter; that is everyone except Phyllis Cross, the head nurse.

Phyllis made it plain that she wanted nothing to do with Edith because she was a "religious nut". She had been a nurse in an army hospital. She had seen it all and heard it all. She was the original G.I. Jane. She had been married three times, she was hard, cold, and did everything by the book.

One morning the two nurses who were to attend to Edith were sick. Edith had the flu and Phyllis Cross had to go in and give her a shot. When she walked in, Edith had a big smile on her face and said, "Phyllis, God loves you and I love you, and I have been praying for you."

Phyllis Cross said, "Well, you can quit pr praying for me, it won't work. I'm not interested."

Edith said, "Well, I will pray and I have asked God not to let me go home until you come into the family." Phyllis Cross said, "Then you will never die because that will never happen," and curtly walked out of the room.

Every day Phyllis Cross would walk into the room and Edith would say, "God loves you Phyllis and I love you, and I'm praying for you."

One day Phyllis Cross said she was literally drawn to Edith's room like a magnet would draw iron. She sat down on the bed and Edith said, "I'm so glad you have come, because God told me that today is your special day"

Phyllis Cross said, "Edith, you have asked everybody here the question, "Do you believe in Easter but you have never asked me."

Edith said, "Phyllis, I wanted to many times, but God told me to wait until you asked, and now that you have asked." Edith Burns took her Bible and shared with Phyllis Cross the Easter Story of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ.. Edith said, "Phyllis, do you believe in Easter? Do you believe that Jesus Christ is alive and that He wants to live in your heart?"

Phyllis Cross said, "Oh I want to believe that with all of my heart, and I do want Jesus in my life "Right there, Phyllis Cross prayed and invited Jesus Christ into her heart. For the first time Phyllis Cross did not walk out of a hospital room, she was carried out on the wings of angels ..

Two days later, Phyllis Cross came in and Edith said, "Do you know what day it is?" Phyllis Cross said, "Why Edith, it's Good Friday."

Edith said, "Oh, no, for you every day is Easter. Happy Easter Phyllis!" Two days later, on Easter Sunday, Phyllis Cross came into work, did some of her duties and then went down to the flower shop and got some Easter lilies because she wanted to go up to see Edith and give her some Easter lilies and wish her a Happy Easter.

When she walked into Edith's room, Edith was in bed. That big black Bible was on her lap. Her hands were in that Bible. There was a sweet smile on her face. When Phyllis Cross went to pick up Edith's hand, she realized Edith was dead. Her left hand was on John 14: "In my Father's house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also." Her right hand was on Revelation 21:4, "And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes, there shall be no more death nor sorrow, nor crying; and there shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away."

Phyllis Cross took one look at that dead body, and then lifted her face toward heaven, and with tears streaming down here cheeks, said, "Happy Easter, Edith - Happy Easter!"

Phyllis Cross left Edith's body, walked out of the room, and over to a table where e two student nurses were sitting. She said, "My name is Phyllis Cross. Do you believe in Easter?"

"Father, bless this person in whatever it is that You know he or she may be needing this day"

Hospitality

2009-04-05T21:23:00.001-04:00

I had said my blogging time here was over, but I am going to add this one as a topic appropriate for our day. In today’s reading from the Rule of Benedict, the subject is hospitality, a major challenge for the church of today. For Fellowship, we respond by participating in the Interfaith Hospitality Network. We welcome the guests to “our place” for a week, four times a year. The numbers of those who need a welcome are overwhelming, however, when we take a look at the homeless, the newcomers to this country, the ones who have no helping hands except for churches and organizations designed to provide temporary services.

This week I attended the day-long Legislative Seminar sponsored by our NC Council of Churches and learned of the almost unsolvable concerns of immigrants, especially Latinos, who are given so little in terms of a welcome from the general public. We enjoy their labors but we don’t seem to enjoy their presence, judging by the efforts to get as many as possible back to their home countries, however that may be accomplished – either legally or illegally. We are reluctant to educate them or train them or raise their economic situation, all of which would in the long run make them contributing members of our society. I think we have a different standard when we read our scriptures, which call for us to “welcome the stranger.” We too once were strangers, or our ancestors were, for all were immigrants to this country except for the native peoples, and they too may come from immigrant stock of several millenia ago.

St. Benedict made hospitality a prime standard for his group of monks. As Sister Joan Chittister comments in today’s reading from the Rule of Benedict, which addresses this matter of hospitality: “Hospitality in a culture of violence and strangers and anonymity has become the art of making good connections at good cocktail parties. We don't talk in elevators, we don't know the security guard's name, we don't invite even the neighbors in to the sanctuary of our selves. Their children get sick and their parents die and all we do is watch the comings and goings from behind heavy blinds. Benedict wants us to let down the barriers of our hearts so that this generation does not miss accompanying the innocent to Calvary as the last one did. Benedict wants us to let down the barriers of our souls so that the God of the unexpected can come in.”
She adds this comment, “ . . . hospitality is clearly meant to be more than an open door. It is an acknowledgement of the gifts the stranger brings.”

We are charged to greet the stranger with our own hospitality, whether or not we are Benedictines. We are Christians, and we are the Church, and “a charge to keep have [we],” as the old hymn tells us. In the coming weeks, we also can remember to welcome the Interim Pastor who is charged to help Fellowship understand who and what we are and where we are going. We may find that our doors can be opened wider and more often, in order to acknowledge the strangers’ gifts. We may find that kernel of faith within us that nudges us into a great spirit of hospitality, the way we have been challenged to do by our risen Lord. It is time “to let down the barriers of our souls” and let the God of the unexpected enter in.

Transition, View From a Session Member

2009-04-05T21:21:00.000-04:00

By Charles Layno, Class of 2009 Session

As a Session Member, I have a unique view of the transition that our church is currently in. One thing I have come to learn is that we are not the only church to have gone through this and we are not the only church going through it today. We are one of many and we have lots of help from many corners and people you would never expect. This transition is certainly disconcerting but after 30 years with the same pastor, that is to be expected. Change is never easy, but is always inevitable in some form or shape. It is the only constant in God's Universe other than his love for us. In reality, it seems we are where we need to be. It is where God wants us to be. You can't fight that no matter what you do. That is not to say this will be a bed of roses. It will not. But nothing that is good and right comes easy. Don't believe me? Check your Bible. Ask Jonah, Moses, Noah, Ester, John, Luke, Matthew, Jacob or any one of a several dozen characters. Even Jesus.

From my vantage, and it seems many others, our future is quite bright. As Rev Jim Rissmiller Associate Presbyter of the East Neighborhood has said to us on several occasions since mid February when all this began, we have a blank canvas to work with. What kind of church do we want to be going forward? We are on the ground floor of a whole new Fellowship Presbyterian Church. No one sees the fundamentals that have made Fellowship the wonderful, loving church we have all come to enjoy and love changing. No one I have talked to wants that to change and Session doesn't want to see that change either. That has been stated in Session several times over the last few months. It is who we are. But as Jim has also said, we need to be open to new ideas. Just because things have always been done a certain way in the past doesn't mean it is the best way moving forward.

That is why it will take twelve to fourteen months to call our new pastor and to have them in our pulpit. A long time indeed, but a necessary time to do what is needed to ensure we call the pastor God is preparing for us now. My guess is our new pastor doesn't even know they are being called yet. Like us, not only is God preparing them for us, He is preparing us for them.

And how is God preparing us? He is preparing us with the search for the Interim Pastor who will help our church to be sure we have the foundation to not only move forward, but to succeed, not only physically or financially, but more important, spiritually. What we the congregation wants to do must mesh with our Called Pastor. No one wants to go through this again next year. That is why we will not even tell the Presbytery what we are looking for in a pastor until after the Interim Pastor has been selected and working in our church for some amount of time to help us determine what it is we want to do. Right now we are so unsure what we want to do with the departure of Gray that we must have time to reflect what the good parts of our church are and to keep them and what we want our church to become. That is happening now.

Rev Margie Boyd, Associate Pastor Guilford Park Presbyterian Church has been a real blessing to many of us on Session. Guilford Park just installed their new Called Pastor first of the year, so she has been more than willing to answer our never ending questions on this whole process.
She has also been available to Moderate our Session meetings since we technically do not have a Moderator with Gray's departure and the Interim Pastor not having been installed yet. It is nice to have someone who is very familiar with the process sitting in the cheap seats so to speak, with us. She has also done some cheer leading to the Session when things looked pretty bleak a couple of times. Having just been through it, she knew just what to say to get us focused back on the task at hand, no matter what it has been. So from this Session member, a big thank you and a God Bless you Margie. You will never know the full extent you have helped us.

Our Transition Team is searching for our Interim Pastor with post haste, but it is deliberate post haste. They need your prayers, everyday. They need you to pray for them BY NAME everyday. The Transition Team is made up of a good cross section of our church with Jim Spain and Donna Steele representing the Session; Linda Kershner representing you, the congregation; Mark Kirstner of the Finance Committee; Kate Platz of the Staff and Wil Gibble as an ex officio member. They are tasked to find our Interim and to bring them to Session for approval and they want to have them in place around the first of May, if all goes according to plan. At this point, we on Session do not even know who they are looking at. We do know that they have interviewed several good candidates and are moving towards a recommendation. We will find out whom they recommend when they bring us the name, whenever that happens. Once that happens, we will start to move toward finding our Called Pastor.

The same will happen when the PNC (Pastoral Nominating Committee), an acronym you will be hearing more about in the coming months, is selected by you, the congregation and finds our Called Pastor and brings that name to you, the congregation at a called Congregational Meeting to vote on. We in Session will find out who that is at the same Congregational Meeting.
We will NOT have an inside track on the candidate so we will find out when you do! Lots of procedural things to do between now and then, but when you strip it all down, it is just a mechanism to be sure we can continue to do God's work within our community.

And speaking of doing God's work, we still have a very vibrant congregation. Rev Jean Rodenbough and her husband Charlie are still here doing what they do best, spreading the Word and being the wonderful shepherds to us and being the wonderful friends of the church that they have always been and Fellowship is the better for it and we thank God for sending them. And those of us on Session are always here to do what is needed to help minister to you, the congregation, no matter what it is so please feel free to call on us. As has been pointed out to us several times by different people, we the members are just as important if not more than any installed minister. The church is not just a minister; it is all of us, ministering to each other and to spread the Word of God to others. Without all of us, congregational members and Session, there is no church. I am seeing new people joining our worship services on Sunday's and I still see the same wonderful members in the pews worshiping God in our Sanctuary. We still have our Mission Programs such as IHN, macaroni, Hearts and Hands and the food bank drives just to mention a few. We still have our Christan Education Program and our wonderful music program. Our Fellowship Schools are still in session for the foreseeable future. Church life still goes on.

As long as we have followers of God, coming to God's house, to worship Him and to do His work, I have no worries about Fellowship Presbyterian Church and I hope you are as excited about our future as I am. I can't wait!

Think About This When In A Hurry

2009-04-03T07:49:00.003-04:00

I recieved this yesterday from a good friend. It's thought provoking at this time of year.
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Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?

When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand.

Bob? Bob from Church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.

Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform. 'Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this.'

'Hello, Jack.' No smile.

'Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids.'

'Yeah, I guess.' Bob seemed uncertain. Good.

'I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit -just this once.'

Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. 'Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?' 'I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct .' Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.

'What'd you clock me at?'

'Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?'

'Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65.' The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.

'Please, Jack, in the car'

Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window.

The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad.

Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?

Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.
'Thanks.' Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.

Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost?

Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke?

Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:

'Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it- a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters, all three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until Heaven before I can ever hug her again.

A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful, Jack, my son is all I have left.'

'Bob'

Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.

Life is precious. Handle with care. This is an important message; please pass it along to your friends. Drive safely and carefully. Remember, cars are not the only things recalled by their maker.

May today there be peace within you. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. 'I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.'

Submitted by John Fair

EXERCISE FOR PEOPLE OVER 50

2009-03-25T15:07:00.001-04:00

Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room at each side.

With a 5-lb potato bag in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, and then relax.

Each day you'll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer.

After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato bags.Then try 50-lb potato bags and then eventually try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute. (I'm at this level.)

After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each bag.

published by John Fair - reprinted from an email received from a friend.

FLORIDA COURT SETS ATHEIST HOLY DAY

2009-03-11T07:53:00.002-04:00

A friend of mine sent this to me. It seems to me that the country we've known and loved -- a country founded on a strong Christian foundation and heritage -- is perilously close to losing many of the Christian traditions we value. I don't know whether this is real or not; but I'd like to think that it is. John Fair
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In Florida, an atheist created a case against the upcoming Easter and Passover holy days. He hired an attorney to bring a discrimination case against Christians, Jews and observances of their holy days.

The argument was that it was unfair that atheists had no such recognized days.The case was brought before a judge. After listening to the passionate presentation by the lawyer, the judge banged his gavel declaring,"Case dismissed!"

The lawyer immediately stood objecting to the ruling saying, "Your honor, how can you possibly dismiss this case? The Christians have Christmas, Easter and others. The Jews have Passover, Yom Kippur and Hanukkah, yet my client and all other atheists have no such holidays."

The judge leaned forward in his chair saying, "But you do. Your client, counsel, is woefully ignorant. "

The lawyer said, "Your Honor, we are unaware of any special observance or holiday for atheists."

The judge said, "The calendar says April 1st is April Fools Day. Psalm 14:1 states, 'The fool says in his heart, there is no God.' Thus, it is the opinion of this court, that if your client says there is no God, then he is a fool. Therefore, April 1st is his day. Court is adjourned.

You gotta love a Judge that knows his scripture!

This is too good not to forward.

TO MEET SUCH A MAN

2009-03-02T09:02:00.003-05:00

I sat, with two friends, in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the town-square. The food and the company were both especially good that day.

As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street. There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods on his back. He was carrying, a well-worn sign that read, 'I will work for food.' My heart sank.

I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car.

Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: 'Don't go back to the office until you've at least driven once more around the square.'

Then with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner, I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the store front church, going through his sack.

I stopped and looked; feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor.

'Looking for the pastor?' I asked.

'Not really,' he replied, 'just resting.'

'Have you eaten today?'

'Oh, I ate something early this morning.'

'Would you like to have lunch with me?'

'Do you have some work I could do for you?'

'No work,' I replied. 'I commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to lunch.'

'Sure,' he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things, I asked some surface questions. Where you headed?'

' St. Louis .'

'Where you from?'

'Oh, all over; mostly Florida .'

'How long you been walking?'

'Fourteen years,' came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, 'Jesus is The Never Ending Story.'

Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought.

He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God.

'Nothing's been the same since,' he said, 'I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now.'

'Ever think of stopping?' I asked.

'Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me But God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads.'

I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The question burned inside for a moment and then I asked: 'What's it like?'

'What?''To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your sign?'

'Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me.'

My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, 'Come Ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in.'

I felt as if we were on holy ground. 'Could you use another Bible?' I asked.

He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite. 'I've read through it 14 times,' he said.

'I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see' I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful.

'Where are you headed from here?' I asked.

'Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon.'

'Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?'

'No, I jus t figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next.'

He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to the town-square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded his things.

'Would you sign my autograph book?' he asked. 'I like to keep messages from folks I meet.'

I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, 'I know the plans I have for you, declared the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you; Plans to give you a future and a hope.'

'Thanks, man,' he said. 'I know we just met and we're really just strangers, but I love you.'

'I know,' I said, 'I love you, too.' 'The Lord is good!'

'Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?' I asked.

'A long time,' he replied

And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, 'See you in the New Jerusalem.'

'I'll be there!' was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his bedroll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, 'When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?'

'You bet,' I shouted back, 'God bless.'

'God bless.' And that was the last I saw of him.

Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them... a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them.

Then I remembered his words: 'If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?'

Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry. 'See you in the New Jerusalem,' he said. Yes, Daniel, I know I will...

Submitted by John Fair -- reprinted from an email received from a friend.

Finding a Time for Prayer

2009-02-20T13:24:00.000-05:00

In the reading today from The Rule of St. Benedict, the commentary by Sister Joan Chittister following today’s portion includes the comment below. She is referring to the practice of the monks to memorize psalms so that when they worked in the fields they could repeat them as prayers. Most of these monks were illiterate, and there were few texts available so they learned the psalms through hearing and memorizing.

What psalm prayers can we say without reading? What prayers ring in our hearts? What do we think about when we're not thinking about anything special? Do we ever simply stop the work we are doing during the day, look straight ahead and pray? What memorized material does run through our minds and why do we memorize what we do but not our prayers?

I must confess that these are not questions I would want to be asked. My responses are not worth hearing! We are drawn to explore how we pray and when, however, as we consider that all prayers are not necessarily structured by an address to God and a closing in the name of Jesus, followed by the traditional Amen. During my childhood I always closed my day with “Now I lay me down to sleep . . .” never missing a night that way. As I grew older, my bedtime prayer took on a more informal tone, filled with my dreams and desires, my pleas and my demands. That pattern prevailed in more mature form during college years and early adulthood. Added to the evening prayer, however, were the spontaneous petitions that might occur at any time. But it was always a matter of seeking some favor – with only an occasional prayer of gratitude, and a few intercessory prayers. These were the personal prayers, because in worship services I prayed along with the congregation following various formats. Gradually my nighttime prayers began to become morning prayers when it was clear that I often fell asleep before reaching the Amen.

This kind of prayer time, with added periods of meditation and silence, were the norm for many years. Lately, however, I find my prayers come at odd moments and in odd forms, and sometimes I feel guilty about straying from a structured routine of prayer times. As a Benedictine Oblate, I am expected to follow a regular prayer routine, which adheres to certain times of the day when we are to stop whatever we’re doing and pray the scriptures or other prayers. But then yesterday’s reading from Sister Joan’s Monastic Way, a daily commentary, notes this:

Prayer is much more than “prayers.” It is awareness, attention and presence. “Certain thoughts are prayers,” Victor Hugo wrote. “There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.”

For now, as long as I continue to remain in prayerful contact with the Creator God, even in different ways from my former practices, I feel assured that my thoughts can be prayers, my actions can be prayerful, and even my poems can be prayers at times – when I recognize that in these moments my “soul is on its knees.” In moments of prayer then, we can be comforted to realize that however our prayers come to God, we are heard. What must accompany those prayerful times is how we then listen to God. What do we hear?

The Poetic Voice

2009-02-11T12:14:00.000-05:00

This past week I was at the Cathedral College in Washington, which is part of the National Cathedral, educating clergy and lay on issues related to ministry and spirituality and many other aspects of life. It was a wonderfully liberating experience, and I am grateful for having had the opportunity. The program was quite similar to one I attended about this time last year, and featured as leader Esther de Waal, in residence from Wales. Returning to lead with her, as last year, were Bonnie Thurston and Kathleen Staudt, poets and teachers in academic settings among other distinctions so numerous I won’t list them all. Joining them this year was the outgoing Poet Laureate of Maryland, Michael Glaser, also a professor. His Jewish background provided rich nuances of theological understanding, and he was also excited about his own growth as he drank in the richness of the Cathedral services we attended.

Enough of the background for my week there, which can’t really provide the sense of what the week meant for me, as I continue to learn more about my own writing and its connection to the poetic imagination. The conference theme was “Approaching God through Poetry,” although one of the poets commented that in truth we don’t approach God, but rather God approaches us. Another interesting exchange had to do with the comment by one that poems are prayers and the questioning of that view by another of the poet session leaders. Dean of the Cathedral, Sam Lloyd, presented a session on the Welsh poet R.S.Thomas, as he had last year.

With great sadness, we learned of the financial difficulties at the Cathedral and the College, which will result in the closing of the College March 31, after more than 50 years (maybe more) of providing enrichment for its Fellows, scholars, and conference attendees. Staff at the Cathedral are also facing lay-offs, and so there was an underlying sadness and anticipated grief over these changes. Even the great Cathedral, “House of Prayer for All People,” cannot overcome the financial threats that have befallen our national economy. At least for now.

Some time in the coming months I will give a Coffee & Conversation session on poetry as a way of seeing: our faith, our inspirations, our understandings. I will try to help all of us see that poetry is not to be something mysterious and to be feared but rather what speaks to our deepest senses. Using many examples as our guide perhaps we too can allow that spirit to give us light on the journey we travel in faith.

As a way of closing for now, I want to share what I have found to be an almost perfect poem. I clipped it some years ago from Christian Century. I am always finding more clues to the profound faith expressed here in simple words. The poet is Kathleen L. Housley, not a household name nor a Pulitzer winner. The poem was in the April 4, 2001 issue of the magazine, and reflects the gospel texts in succinct allusions, using the image of baptism to point to even deeper meanings. It will take several readings to begin to realize what is written in these lines.

By water and by spirit
Kathleen L. Housley

Before he sought the river’s cool water
at the end of the afternoon to wash
away the sawdust that coated his arms
and hair like pollen, leaving his mallet
on an upturned manger in need of a leg,
and his adze resting on a half-formed yoke,
he had been whittling sheep so perfect
that when he set them down gently on the work bench,
they had begun to graze among the shavings,
and mosquitos that buzzed as he flicked them
loose from the pine with the point of his knife
to torment the rounded haunches of a bear
gnawing on fish bones no bigger than pins.
And when he had finished, he had taken
his own body in his hands, shaping himself
into an olive tree in early spring about to bloom,
which was what the dove had glimpsed
as it dropped down from the clouds,
seeking only a branch on which to rest.

Of Trivia and Blackberries

2009-01-26T07:53:00.000-05:00

In a time of great national moment, community events, personal concerns and eternal challenges, I seem to have regressed and blocked out the world for a time. There are occasions when we find ourselves overwhelmed with stories of sorrows and job losses, family disorders and worldwide disorders, and for me, that is when I grab my “banky” and head for the corner to suck my thumb in solace. So for today, I must register a complaint: I don’t have a Blackberry. After learning that our President was able to hold on to his in spite of security concerns for him, I feel justified in wanting my very own Blackberry.

I’ve scoured the internet for a site that might sell them for a drop-dead price. I’ve had friends tutor me in the basics so that I would be ready for this amazing piece of communication to add to my collection of gadgets, thus feeding my obsession with new items that come on the market. No one in my circle of acquaintances, meaning my co-elderly classmates for example, comprehend this passion for NEW inventions and contraptions that entrap me in their novelty.

I’ve lectured myself with scripture passages about not serving two masters, and the priority of tending to the least among us, and the threats of all those “woes” for any who seek their own advantage and not their neighbor’s. I have humbled myself and offered to do penance for weeks at a time but still hold on to the vision of that magical little object that with a press of a finger or two can bring the world to my hands through the wonders of electronics.

It doesn’t matter that I have very little real need for a Blackberry. It doesn’t matter that over 70% of the gadgets I’ve collected over the years have seen maybe 20% usage in their time. It is the thrill of the hunt, the challenge to take on new tasks or maybe take on new widgets to accomplish the new tasks for me. I’ve probably just put myself in some personality disorder category, but it is so much fun to explore the marketplaces for gadgets that perform near miracles in my eyes. It is difficult, however, to justify neglecting those matters that really count in order to add one more unnecessary item to my shelf or my desk or in my purse. The voice that sits on my shoulder keeps on speaking of the needs of the world, the injustices perpetrated daily against the people and other creatures on this planet, the wasted environments and the heart-rending warfare which never ends. So now I let go of this indefensible longing for unnecessary possessions and get back to the Real World.

But it would be so much fun to have a Blackberry . . .

“Ring in the New?”

2009-01-07T07:50:00.001-05:00

Every time a new year shows up, the talk is constant about doing something different from what we did the year before: stop eating so much, lose weight, give up bad habits, be kinder to the unpleasant in-laws, seek forgiveness from the pleasant ones. Learn another language. Write the Great American Novel. Join the community service organizations so long ignored. Call that best friend and highschool classmate to renew acquaintances after 35 years. Memorize the list of US Presidents, in order. Memorize the books of the Bible, in order. Memorize the state capitals. (What we forget is that we did these memory exercises once but it was so long ago that we can’t remember them . . . .) And on it goes. Along about February or March, the list has shortened, and by June we wonder what it was we had decided to do this year.

What if we make promises to ourselves that won’t be forgotten? What if instead of changing old habits we simply adopt new ones? Some years ago I read a book on tennis in which the premise was that rather than struggle with changing or conquering old habits of swinging the racket and serving and other ways of playing, we should develop new and better ways to play the game. The mind was likened to a record (remember those disks we used to hear music on?) with the grooves set into the vinyl which were then set permanently. Rather than try to remove those grooves, far better to set new grooves which would replace the old ones. So let’s resolve to forget about changing our habits, and create new ones which override what we used to do.

Far be it from me to tell you what you need to do, other than suggest that you find new ways to live your life that will be an improvement on the former ones. Think about your attitudes, your use of time, your expectations. Can they be replaced with better ways? I find that guilt plays a big part in how I don’t act in ways that are best for me. I eat way too much of the wrong food groups, for instance. Friends are always giving me ideas and recipes for a healthier lifestyle. I find these most helpful and interesting, and one of these days I’ll probably try some of them. Because I haven’t done so yet, I feel guilty, and to assuage that guilt, I find that a good bowl of ice cream is most comforting to the spirit, if not so comforting to the body I inhabit.

You may have noticed I’ve not mentioned our church life. I’ve ignored the features of our faith journeys. I have not mentioned the importance of community and its imprint upon our belief systems. The value of faith is not so much how well it benefits us, but how well it benefits others. If we really want to find a better way of living and develop the patterns that will take us there, the focus begins to turn outward rather than inward. It is, strangely enough, when we forget ourselves that we remember others. It is when we become willing to give up that we receive. These are more than platitudes that we discover on those emails our friends send to us. They are the real, nitty-gritty requirements of living a life to the fullest.

We can’t embrace the whole gamut of what calls to us in this world of great needs. But we begin somewhere. My one suggestion is to begin with discovering how membership in Fellowship Presbyterian Church can stretch our perspectives so that we see the world as it is and not our own small space unless it connects beyond our comfort and beyond our present understandings. Let’s take some stretching exercises and see where they take us in this chaotic world of 2009.

God Will and Does Provide

2009-01-06T12:37:00.003-05:00

I have recently been thinking a lot about God, his love for us and about how he takes care of his own. The process started a number of months ago, and the term "good shepherd" has for me taken on an all new meaning.

My heart sank the day I heard Gray's time-off announced. With a plethora of attendance and financial issues, my first thought was "...is this the beginning of an inevitable and unavoidable end?" How in the world could he leave now -- with a stewardship campaign looming and Advent and Christmas seasons virtually around the corner.

But then God stepped in! I realized that he had been there all along, just maybe not as visible as I'd like. And people started coming out of the woodwork lead by Jean Rodenbough and a small army of volunteers. And GOD DID PROVIDE.

Attendance remained stable -- even at times seeming in increase. Spirits stayed good. "Fellowship" took on a new meaning -- all because the tender but insistent hand of God was there.

I saw an article this morning that was both humorous and thought provoking; and I'm closing this blog entry with it.

God Will Provide

A young woman brings home her fiance to meet her parents. After dinner, her mother tells her father to find out about the young man. The father invites the fiancee to his study for a drink.
"So what are your plans?" the father asks the young man. "I am a Torah scholar." he replies.

"A Torah scholar. Hmmm," the father says. "Admirable, but what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter to live in, as she's accustomed to?" "I will study," the young man replies, "and God will provide for us."

"And how will you buy her a beautiful engagement ring, such as she deserves?" asks the father.
"I will concentrate on my studies," the young man replies, "God will provide for us."

"And children?" asks the father. "How will you support children?" "Don't worry, sir, God will provide," replies the fiance.

The conversation proceeds like this, and each time the father questions, the young idealist insists that God will provide.

Later, the mother asks, "How did it go, Honey?" The father answers, "He has no job and no plans, but the good news is he thinks I'm God."

Blog entry provided by John Fair

“Important Words”

2008-11-17T16:56:00.002-05:00

All my life I have been intrigued by words. As a child and a “pre-reader,” I would open my books and “read” the stories out loud. Words have been one of the major symbols of my life ever since I could speak. Yes, I realize that it is not words but deeds that count the most among the faithful; we have the old adage that actions speak louder than words. But the New Testament writer James reminds us that “the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits.” Words both spoken and written are essential to civilization.

John’s gospel begins with “In the beginning was the Word. . .” so that we understand that even at creation, when God spoke the universe began. (I realize, of course, that I am pulling some quotes out of context here to serve my own purposes.) As a working poet, meaning that I work at my poetry, there are barely a few successes out of mostly amateur attempts. For a poem to have its strongest meaning, a poet works for succinctness and the best possible word. Even long poems that are well-crafted have been worked on until the essence of each word is brought forth. Prose writers have it much easier, but they too must be careful in word choices.

All this to say that over the years I have collected words that carry particular meaning for me. A friend once gave me a small blank book bound with a paisley pattern on red cloth. It became my repository for sayings that were important for me at the time. I began my record of quotes in 1985 and have been adding to them ever since. Sometimes I forget to do this, so that I’m only about halfway through the book even now. But I want to share some of these sayings with you, and perhaps they will take on different meanings for you:

You meet your destiny on the road you take to avoid it. – Carl Jung
Time and trouble will tame an advanced young woman, but an advanced old woman is uncontrollable by any earthly force. – Dorothy Sayers (English writer and theologian)
We must go slowly – there is not much time. – Women’s Theological Center, Boston
For years I wanted to be older, and now I am. – Margaret Atwood, Canadian writer
When I give food to the poor they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist. – Dom Helder Camara – priest
Before I was enlightened, I chopped wood and carried water. After I was enlightened, I chopped wood and carried water. – Zen monk
The early bird may get the worm, but it’s the second mouse that gets the cheese. – heard on Prairie Home Compani
The place God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet. – Frederick Buechner, Presbyterian minister and writer
To confess that Christ is Godlike is now seen to be not so important as to affirm that God is Christlike and the Christlike love is the way God intends for the running of the Cosmos. – Bishop K.H. Ting, China
Every human face is an icon of Christ, discovered by a prayerful person. – Catherine de Hueck Doherty

Joseph the lost will return;
Jacob should not sink into sadness.
Those who sit in the grief house
Will eventually sit in the garden. – Hafez, Islamic poet
Parents are the bones on which children sharpen their teeth. – Peter Ustinov
We need the church. Christianity is not a solo activity. – Brian Jones, in Christian Century

So there you have a few samples from my book. I hope you find something worth remembering about them. We are becoming a culture of text messaging, with its abbreviated way of communicating, and as that takes place, we are losing some beautiful words and sounds and expressions. Let us hope for their preservation.

Encouraging News

2008-10-20T15:23:00.001-04:00

The title to the news item in the current Christian Century states: “Heaven accessible to many, Americans say.” I breathed a sigh of relief as I read this, knowing that I had been nurturing dark thoughts about the state of things, about our barky, insistent dog Katie, about drivers who ride my bumper while talking on cell phones, and other matters. I was being judgmental, ignoring the wisdom of “Judge not that ye be not judged,” as an older version of the gospels warns us. So this morning it was encouraging to read of a heaven so accessible to many that it was newsworthy.

Researchers recently polled US adults about who among us will get to heaven, and the results show that 54% of those polled believe that at least half of us average Americans will see St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. This figure reveals a difference from earlier polls, in that studies this time show that the dwellers in heavenly places will include not only Christians but those of other faiths. Of those responding, 72% say that at least half of the Christians among us will make it to heaven, while only 46% of Jews, 37% of Buddhists, and 34% of Muslims will get through the Gates. Researchers see these figures as indicating a higher level of religious tolerance, even though they still appear to be rather exclusive. Alas, the studies do not indicate what the criteria are for receiving this passport.

There is more to the article, but I was pleased to note that I have at least a 50-50 chance of some day sitting on one of those heavenly clouds, strumming my harp. Now if only I can ignore those mean thoughts I have, maybe my odds will improve.

The news embedded in this article would seem to show an increasing understanding and toleration of religious beliefs that will merit one’s acceptance into this heavenly realm. I suppose it is unnecessary to include in the study those who do not subscribe to any faith at all. Why would they choose to spend eternity with all those hymn singers, chanters, readers of scripture, and such when they did not so choose during their mortal existence?

Now my tongue-in-cheek attitude here may seem just a bit out of place when tackling such an ultimate question. It is a pervasive one, as can be seen in tracts lying around in public places that ask us, “Where will you spend eternity?” Often, an illustration of flames accompanies this question, indicating that there are really scary and unpleasant fates awaiting us if we don’t follow certain pathways and behaviors and beliefs. If our beliefs happen to veer sharply away from conventional or traditional systems we too may find ourselves at last standing on the outside looking in.

What is missing in this picture? What happened to the loving mercy of an inclusive God? Did I miss the instructions about passing judgment on our neighbor? I seem to have enough difficulty just keeping my own focus on Jesus’ teachings about the faithful life, without the distraction of deciding how well someone else’s score stands on such matters. I did read in this article, however, that 29% of those surveyed acknowledged having no opinion one way or the other as to the fate of the average American. I am not alone then, but remain in the minority on this issue.

The core measure it would seem in all this, if we follow not only the teachings of Jesus, but those of other major religions with similar guidelines, that we have received our orders: to love God with all that we are, and to love others just as much as we love ourselves. In fact, I hold that if we cannot love ourselves, as created in the image of God and worthy of love, then we have no understanding of what it means to love our neighbor. That means we know we have value in the sight of God, that we are no greater than human in our being, but we are no less either. It means we see all others as created by God, loved by God, and in the image of God that they, and we, carry within ourselves. To honor others is to honor God. To give ourselves honor means that we don’t credit ourselves or our actions with more than what we have been created to be, but also no less. Humility is a measuring stick for us. It helps us see ourselves in real, living color, no more, no less than what any human being is. It also helps us to recognize that all of creation has been fashioned out of a love that is unfathomable and worthy of respect.

The matter of who among us will then be rewarded with an eternity in the presence of God is not a judgment call we need to make. We follow Christ, we minister in his name to one another, and we leave the outcome to God. So be it.

What Happened to Retirement?

2008-09-29T07:38:00.001-04:00

Dear friends at Fellowship:

On my way to taking it easy, finishing my writing project about WWII, reading those 51 books lined up on the shelf, and generally getting into trouble with all those causes I tend to get involved in, God turned the page instead. I often state in my sermons that God is full of surprises. Now I know what that means.

Gray was surprised by a spider and its bite has left him with severe head pains for nearly a month. How anyone could manage that much hurt for that long is beyond me. Fortunately, he now seems to be relieved partially of that stabbing pain, thanks to shots and medications. And at this point, having been granted a three-month sabbatical, he has an opportunity to refresh and renew his spirit, his body, and his energy. For that we can all be thankful, knowing that when there are surprises, God can surprise us even further with new opportunities. For Gray, the surprise, with the support of this entire congregation, comes as you present him with three months of R&R. You are a gracious people.

You have also been gracious to me, as I begin to pick up some of Gray’s many ministries, to the Session as it takes on more duties for now, and to this church as you are willing to pitch in to be true ministers to one another, in accord with our Reformed theology. I preached about Moses this morning, and it struck me that just as he was beginning to plan for his retirement at the sheep ranch in Midian, sitting on the veranda and surveying all those woolly creatures and the pastures that stretched out of sight, a stack of scrolls from the local library at his side for reading, his stylus prepared to record his autobiography, he trips one day and almost falls into a bush on his way across the fields. And it was on fire! And you know the rest of the story.

Charlie, my long-enduring partner of the past 53 years, will now have more quiet time at his computer as he writes his historical creative non-fiction pieces. I won’t be bugging him constantly about something, or sending him a long string of internet links with the latest articles or videos on current topics, every 30 minutes or so. Bless his heart, as Southern women say, he will have time for himself at long last. He will also know that I am busy doing what is so close to my heart, providing ministry, this time to a congregation I absolutely love and revel in.

Back in August, I began as Parish Associate, and was working on several projects that would complement Gray’s ministries here. Some of those will have to be set aside for the next few months, but once Gray returns I can resume them. One is our Fellowship Green project. My regret is that we could have received a grant from one of the presbytery committees as we launched that new project, but the deadline to apply is Oct. 3. My thinking, however, is that there may still be funds for such a grant even next year. Other projects that I was starting to work with may still get done, only at a slower pace.

We have a Fall Festival coming up this Saturday, and World Communion Sunday Oct. 5, and the Blessing of the Animals on Oct. 12. Many good events, and I trust that you will participate in these and support our church activities. I will be away from Sunday Oct. 5 through late Tuesday Oct. 7. The Micah bible study continues, however. This week I will lead it, and next week Ruth Long has wonderfully offered to lead it. The Wednesday evening prayer and meditation group will also continue to meet. Ruth has been willing to lead that next week as well. So life goes on because of members such as Ruth who step in and provide leadership. I know that the rest of you will be assessing your own skills at some kind of expertise that you can offer to Fellowship, so please don’t be shy. Let God surprise you with opportunities to lend us your skills and let God surprise us all by seeing that the ministry of Fellowship Presbyterian Church makes the next three months memorable. Then we can surprise Gray upon his return, with a congregation that has grown, has developed new abilities, new energies, new purpose, ready for his leadership once again.

When the Planes Came

2008-09-11T07:41:00.003-04:00

Sixty-seven years ago I was living with my family in Honolulu, Hawaii. My father, an Army doctor, was stationed at Tripler Army Hospital. One brother was a student at Princeton in New Jersey, and one was a senior at Roosevelt High School in Honolulu. I was a third-grader at Lincoln Elementary School. My mother, an accomplished pianist, kept everything in working order at home while the rest of us studied and worked. Life was pretty much routine for this military family, living in a rented house in the city rather than choosing to live in Army quarters on base.

In December of 1941, however, events changed the course of our lives forever. Japanese planes attacked Pearl Harbor and our country’s entry into World War II began a new way of living for our family and for our nation. Only 23 years earlier “the war to end all wars” had been fought and peace treaties were signed. Yet the peace did not hold, and we experienced once more the terror and destruction from skies which were no longer friendly.

Seven years ago our country again knew the shock of terror and destruction from the skies. Two planes crashed into the Twin Towers in New York City, one into the Pentagon and one into a field in Pennsylvania, all of those events tied to one major plot by those from other places. Once again our nation was at war, and battles fought far from our shores would affect our way of life. It was not the first time we were involved in war since the end of WWII. In all likelihood it won’t be the last time we know war. Generations of us have lived more years with war than with peace, each time with some hopeful ones believing that wars will some day become only history, when peace reigns permanently. We still wait and hope for that day.

As we take time this week to remember the pain and loss experienced on September 11, 2001, we also become aware of the necessity to make peace a priority. Some must wonder if God blesses our battles or if God weeps at the devastation wrought upon this good creation. The psalmists found their expression of sorrow and need for God’s intervention in what we label the “psalms of lament.” These have been the cries of God’s people for thousands of years. In addition to those biblical psalms, many new psalms express the laments of later times. After our country’s 9-11 experience, I wrote this:

Lament
psalm for September 11, 2001

When the planes came to the buildings,
When fire and flesh converged,
Were you there, Lord,
When permanent became impermanent?
Were you there at all?
When all came crashing down, O God, were you
There in the midst of chaos, of unspeakable evil?
Did you gather up your lost and broken?
Did you carry them in your bosom, kissing them,
Holding the ashes of their souls?

Let your fierce love meet our disbelief.
Let your hand hold us up from this earth’s danger.
May our shouts of anger turn into hosannas.
Come to our broken spirits and make us whole
In your peace.

BEWARE. BEWARE. BEWARE.

2008-08-25T16:25:00.002-04:00

Friends: Instead of a blog, I am sending you a copy of something on today’s Benedictine e-column, “Vision and Viewpoint,” written by Sister Joan Chittister, OSB in one of her books. (See credit line following this article.) I find that it throws out a challenge to us as Protestants as well, particularly to Presbyterians. It speaks to the PCUSA as a whole and to individual congregations such as ours. If there is anything in this article which catches your attention, or challenges some of your ideas about church, or differs with your views, then take that as an opportunity to reflect on what is written here, meditate about it, and pray about it. -- Jean

BEWARE. BEWARE. BEWARE.

There is a revolution going on in today’s Church. Very ordinary people are discovering the energy, the insight, and the power that comes with a real spiritual life. And, as it happens when the Holy Spirit steps out of the chanceries of the world, quite ordinary people are being spiritually empowered to make decisions on their own.

They know they have been sent to live the beatitudes in a world where two-thirds of the people are deprived of the basics of life. They know they have been sent to be the sign of the call, the gospel commitment, in a world that wants power and profit instead. They know they have been sent to become the Christ-figure in a world that says, “You get them before they get you!” In a Church that says some of us are inadequate images of Christ. They know they have been sent to turn the world around, one part at a time.

A folk tale may explain it best.

Once upon a time a priest announced that Jesus, himself, was coming to church the following Sunday. How the people turned up in large number, of course, to see him.

Everyone expected Jesus to preach. But he only smiled. And everyone offered him hospitality, but he refused. He wanted to spend the night in church, he said. “How could he!” everyone thought. But the next morning, by the time the church doors were open, Jesus had already slipped away. And to their horror, the priest and the people discovered that their church had been vandalized.

Scribbled everywhere on the walls was the single word, “Beware!” No part of the church was spared; the doors and the windows, the pillars and the pulpit, the altar; even the Bible that rested on the lectern. “Beware!” Wherever the eye rested one could see the word, “Beware!” Shocking! Yet, confusing. Hauntingly terrifying! What were they supposed to be aware of?

The first impulse of the people was to wipe out every trace of this defilement, this sacrilege. The only thing that stopped them from doing it was the awareness that it was Jesus, after all, Jesus, himself, who had done this deed.

But the days went by. That mysterious word, “Beware,” began to sink into the minds of the people each time they came to church. They began to beware of the Scriptures, so they were able to profit from them without falling into bigotry. They began to beware of the Sacraments, so they were sanctified without becoming superstitious. The priest began to beware of his power over the people, so he was able to help without controlling. And everyone began to beware of religion, which leads the unwary to self-righteousness.

They became law-abiding, yet compassionate to the weak; they began to beware of prayer, so it no longer stopped them from becoming self-reliant; they even began to beware of their notions of God, so they were able to recognize God outside the narrow confines of their church. Finally, they inscribed the shocking word over the entrance of their church and as you drive past at night you can see it blazing above the church in multi-colored neon lights. The message is a simple one: Beware! Beware of power without spirituality and beware of any spirituality that does not empower. Beware. Beware. Beware. For the sake of the Church, and the sake of the children, I’m begging you, beware.

– from “Empowerment and Spirituality,” by Joan Chittister,Creation magazine, March/April, Vol. 6, No. 2, 1990

Worship: A Many-Splendored Thing

2008-08-18T07:36:00.001-04:00

Ever since I first became a Presbyterian, back in 1959, worship has been important to me in my life of faith. Well, actually, worship has always been important. I have often said that the Baptists taught me about the Bible, the Episcopalians gave me an appreciation of liturgy, and the Presbyterians provided a sense of church structure and polity. Always these elements have been for me set within the context of worship. Almost from the time we joined the Presbyterian church in Madison, I served on the Worship Committee there. At Duke Divinity School, the first course I signed up for was a history and survey of Christian worship. And one more credential to add to this list: when the Presbyterians published the Book of Common Worship, I was already familiar with its contents, having worked for several years with its proposed resources before they were finally approved and published in the form we now have.

I attended every workshop possible on worship over my years as a member at Madison. Our committee sampled various forms of worship and versions of liturgy. We experimented and then once a general pattern was agreed upon, following the recommended form, it was followed thereafter with some modifications from time to time. Once I began serving churches myself, I was a stickler for what ought to be in a Service for the Lord’s Day. When congregations showed me how they had “always done it,” I worked hard to introduce them to the “proper” order and content of worship. My successes were rare, but usually there were some gradual changes to what was deemed good Reformed worship. There were battles, of course, over adopting the newest hymnal but even those mountains were finally scaled. The grounding was that Book of Common Worship.

Then I began an interim ministry in two small churches in Stokes County. There were printed bulletins for each church with different orders of worship, and neither congregation followed the “accepted” forms. The two churches used different hymnbooks, neither of which I had ever seen before, and neither based on the Reformed tradition. I was nearly distraught. This isn’t right! I thought, looking through previous bulletins. I resolved to set those folks straight about what should and shouldn’t be in a worship service, and about where in the service those elements should go, and also, what were the proper liturgical colors to use. The last piece was the easiest to resolve: neither church used paraments, so I crossed that issue off my list.

The third or fourth time I led worship in the churches, something began to dawn on me. Because nothing was as it should be, nothing correctly attended to in the course of worship, I discovered a sense of liberation! I was free – free at last from the constraints of being part of the worship police. By the time my ministry ended at those small churches, I had learned that it is not necessarily the order or the correctness of worship that takes priority. It is instead being in the holy presence of the people of God that matters. There in those small churches “far from the madding crowd,” I began to sense the surroundings as blessed by the Holy Spirit, that we were standing on holy ground, sharing our songs from the heart, feeding one another from the Table, listening for God’s word and for what that word meant for us in our time and in our place. I had been liberated from conformity, from particularity of things, from the dictates of the right piece in the right place with the right words in the right time. I let go and as the saying goes, let God be revealed, however that might be, throughout the service.

Now, it is true that on occasion I have been a back-slider and tried once again to set the standard order of worship as the Proper Way to Worship. But then I am drawn back to that other realization, that worship services were designed by the People of God in order to give God praise and to offer our petitions, intercessions, and thanksgivings. How we do that, and in what order, and with what words, is simply our own undertaking. It can be flexible to meet the needs of worshipers, and to address the texts of the day, and to encourage creativity. After all, we are made in the image of our Creator.

I remembered the main teaching about worship as posited by the Danish theologian and philospher, Kierkegaard: the congregation, choir, preacher, and all others in the service are the performers for God, Who is the Audience. It’s not so much about us as it is about the One we worship, the Three-in-One, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. We sing our hearts out for that One who listens there in the sanctuary. We pray, we plead, we give thanksgivings with tears in our eyes, we grieve the sorrows that come upon us, but always . . . always . . . God is there, with the healing wings of the Risen Christ spread wide as the whole world.

A Historic Moment

2008-08-07T16:56:00.002-04:00

It was during this week 63 years ago that our military dropped two atomic bombs on large cities in Japan: Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The event brought about the end of World War II, although there were formalities to attend to and continuing battles on some of the Pacific islands. Debates have continued over the years as to whether or not it was the correct decision to drop the bombs. We will never know for certain. But we do know of some long-lasting effects of the radiation produced from the two bombs. We know of the cancer from radiation that took many lives in Japan even years later. We know of the permanent scars on the psyche of an entire nation who faced defeat and occupation. We know of effects upon our own military personnel from radiation left on the land long after the actual bombing. There were other long-ranging effects as well.

My husband Charlie is chronicling the history of an earlier war, and uncovered something surprising. He writes this:

“At the end of the Great War (WWI), 74 capital ships of the German High Seas Fleet were sailed from German waters by their German crews to be impounded at Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands, the largest port in England. They were to wait there, captives of the British but commanded by Germans, until terms of the Treaty of Paris were negotiated. By June 21, 1919, the terms were known, including the surrender of the entire fleet to the British. At 10:30 on that morning, a prearranged signal from Admiral von Reuter, German commander of the fleet, ordered the fleet to be scuttled, rather than allow the British to add the fleet to their own navy. The skeleton German crews sank all but four of the ships (they were grounded) - a total of 400,000 tons of armored vessels. It was the largest maritime disaster in a single day in history.

“Between the World Wars, most of the ships were salvaged for scrap. By the end of the Second World War only three capital ships and several destroyers remained at Scapa Flow. Along with 100 German U-boats scuttled after the end of WWII, these ships today are one of the last readily available sources of non-radioactive steel. It seems that all steel made after the two atomic bombs fell on Japan in 1945 has contained tiny amounts of radioactivity. This is because the atmosphere now contains trace amounts of radioactive isotopes. Steel-making involves the use of substantial amounts of air, and that transfers the radioactivity to all steel. Radiation free metal is vital for use in instruments and equipment used for measuring radiation, for fine sensors used in space satellites, and in some medical equipment.”

The lasting effects of those bombs have been forgotten by many today, but this week during a remembrance service in Hiroshima, the mayor noted that the effects of the atomic bombing on the minds of survivors had been underestimated for decades, adding that “the voices, faces and forms that vanished in the hell” had never left the hearts of survivors.

The damage of war reaches far beyond military actions. In our time, not only are those serving as combatants in the world’s battles in danger, but I came across an unbelievably startling statistic: that 95%-98% of all deaths and injuries in today’s wars come not to the military but to non-combatants, meaning those who suffer the greatest are children, women, and the elderly. In the long run, who are the true winners of wars?

May we discover the shalom of God’s peace.

A Heated Meeting

2008-07-23T08:53:00.001-04:00

The temperatures were climbing, the humidity was thick enough to spread on toast, and there were about twice as many who came to the small church than there were available seats.

Sounds like an old-time Southern revival. But instead, it was Salem Presbytery’s summer meeting at Bethel Presbyterian in McLeansville Saturday, July 19. The air-conditioning began panting and froze up, so that what remained working provided only partial cooling. Someone eventually plugged in large fans that helped a great deal. If you were fortunate enough to find a place inside to sit. Why this unprecedented surge of attendance on what is usually the least attended meeting of Presbytery for the year?

Several reasons account for the difference this year. Fewer were taking long trips for vacation, and perhaps even more significant was that Willie Garvin, Financial Officer at the presbytery office and presbytery staff person for 40 years total, was being recognized at her retirement. Many friends, co-workers, and family were present. The other reason was that reports were to be presented by our Commissioners to the recent General Assembly in San Jose, CA and a presbytery committee report was scheduled having to do with the Peace, Unity and Purity paper presented at the 2006 GA in Richmond. Our presbytery had followed up with a study focused locally.

For any who arrived just a bit too late, no seats in the sanctuary were available. Some of us packed the small narthex but went in and out the doors seeking cooler and fresher air. So a lot of us missed the retirement ceremony all together. What I did hear was full of good words for Willie, and her sister’s solo was outstanding. Refreshments and registration were outside, so that a number of folks gathered there all during the day in lieu of sweltering inside.

Despite the comments I overheard about discomforts encountered, to me there was something about that gathering that had a good spirit to it. The setting, perhaps, contributed. I felt as though we were experiencing what church in its core being was like. Singing the hymns, sharing in communion, listening and at times debating or arguing about various issues – this was carried on by a community of Christians. The sermons were outstanding. Canessa Stafford preached her ordination sermon on “God’s Funny Farm,” and described her grandparents’ gardens, one where weeds were free to thrive and one where a weed would not dare to put down roots. We were encouraged to reconsider those among us we would define as “weeds.” Perhaps God sees us differently. She saw the Farmer God as being like the sower in Jesus’ parable who joyfully and freely scatters seeds generously and sees none of us as weeds in the Garden of the Kingdom.

The meeting of Salem Presbytery was heated at times by more than the muggy weather, as words were said in anger or frustration. The words that we might weed out of that gathering because they could be hurtful or damaging were heard within the healing fellowship of the Church at work. We also heard words of joy from churches in Brazil, words of hope from committee reports, words of blessing in our being at Table with one another. All together, I felt that no matter what was said, the Spirit at work in that place would discern where the weeds were and nurture what could bloom forth in mission and faithful discipleship. We can count on that, whether we approve or dislike the actions taken and the words spoken. It’s not necessarily about us.

About the Fellowship Blogger

2008-07-18T09:09:00.001-04:00

As a retired minister now serving Fellowship Presbyterian Church as Parish Associate, I find little free time to be “retired,” but much time to do what I believe God calls me to do. In this blog, I will be commenting on all sorts of matters, some related to church or to faith, others to what is taking place in the world around us, and some to what goes on in my head.

As an officer of the North Carolina Council of Churches, First Vice-President, I hope to share with you some of the work that the Council does in ministries with the people of North Carolina. In addition to my participation in several organizations here in Greensboro and elsewhere, I am a writer. My book, Gather with the Saints, is a collection of stories about unusual people, unusual deaths and unusual funerals. Janie, the 12-year-old daughter of a Baptist preacher, shares these stories with the reader, as she describes some of what happens in her home town of Wheeler, NC. My other book, Signs of Hope: Messages for the Grieving, provides healing stories about grief and loss. They are both available on http://www.lulu.com/ by putting my name in the search window. I am also a poet and belong to the Writers' Group of the Triad. Currently I am working on a book about the WWII experiences of children.

The purpose of this blog is not to emphasize my opinions but to challenge you as a reader to respond with your own views about the topics I include here. All I ask is that you remember to use language that is appropriate for this website, that members of the church and perhaps others will read. It is not limited to comments by adults, as I welcome the responses from the youthful visitors to this blog.

Where in the World . . .?

2008-07-16T09:57:00.000-04:00

As I begin the first blog for our church website, the question for me was where to begin. What would be a suitable first topic? Too many ideas running around in my head. Then this morning I picked up the copy of Highlights that came the other day. I had my subject matter.
Highlights is a Presbyterian publication that comes out twice a year, and informs readers of our Presbyterian international missions. Presbyterian World Mission is a branch of PCUSA that directs mission personnel, strengthens the “global church,” and equips Presbyterians for mission. There is good news: after a 50-year decrease in PCUSA co-workers, the trend has been reversed, and there are now nearly 200 mission co-workers around the world in addition to 35 long-term mission volunteers. By 2010, the number of co-workers will increase to 215. Such news reflects a “major shift in denominational mission policy,” notes Hunter Farrell, World Mission director.
Of special interest to Charlie and me is the article about a PCUSA-supported soup kitchen in Moscow, feeding elderly poor. It is operated through the Moscow Protestant Chaplaincy and directed by the Rev. Bob Bronkema, who ministers to the multi-ethnic, multi-denominational congregation there. He came to Moscow in 2006 along with his wife Stacy, also a Presbyterian pastor, and their three daughters 12,10, and 8. Their responsibilities cover a wide range of ministries with MPC. About 200 meals are prepared each day for pensioners and special food items are provided for their guests to supplement the lunch meals. We have visited with, and been assisted by, the mission co-workers in Moscow, Ellen and Al Smith. They helped us arrange a Twin Church relationship in Belarus with our former church in Madison. The Smiths also greatly helped in our second trip of about 10 from Salem Presbytery when we participated in a study seminar on the nature of Orthodoxy as practiced by the Russian Orthodox Church. Gray Clark was with that group, and you have heard his accounts of the trip.
I learned that Presbyterians have an active ministry in the Sudan as well. Muslims in Darfur now receive Christian education, through teachers from the Sudan Presbyterian Evangelical Church, after a request by a Muslim sheik. He was amazed by the dedication Christians had shown in relief efforts and medical clinics. “What is it about you Christians that you are out here ready to help us?” he asked of Lee Watenpaugh, an elder from Virginia who had been with medical clinics in Darfur. Watenpaugh then recruited support from Sudan Mission Network members, mission personnel, World Mission staff, a presbytery, congregations, and a partner church and before long a two-room school began operating in one of the villages, with 273 students. They are hoping to expand the program in order to include adult students as well. Increased financial support from Presbyterians in this country has made it possible to begin expanding the school to six more rooms. These efforts are the results of a moment when Lee Watenpaugh, retired from his government position with the Secretary of Defense as an assistant for NATO policy, saw a need and responded to it, and the mission expanded into more than he ever imagined possible.
We have been hearing much about Iran as part of an “axis of evil.” There is another story, however, as described in an article about a trip last October to Iran by Presbyterians from Peachtree and Ogelthorpe churches in Atlanta. The ten travelers met unexpected welcomes from members of the Evangelical (Presbyterian) Church of Iran. That church body originated in the 19th century when American Presbyterians visited the country, and today there are six congregations with approximately 6000 members. Surprised by the near absence of any anti-American posters and encountering no hostility during their visit, the visiting Presbyterians discovered the joy of sharing with their Iranian counterparts. The generosity which was displayed in their welcome made a lasting impression upon the group. “From the moment of our arrival, people fell over themselves to welcome us,” commented one member. They attended services, visited most of the congregations, and were impressed by the numbers of young people and by the energy of the leaders. The trip illustrated something important: that when brothers and sisters in the faith come together from such wide distances of culture and location, they demonstrate the inclusive love of God for all the world.
The magazine carries other stories as well: of Presbyterians in Indonesia, Malawi, Iraq, and Columbia, for example. There are news items about new staff members, about retiring mission workers, and opportunities for service. World Mission’s website features even more stories of Presbyterians at work in Armenia, France and Spain.
When I attended my first General Assembly in Atlanta in 1983, the year the two major Presbyterian bodies united, I overheard a conversation between two retired clergy. They were discussing the work of missionaries they had known throughout the years. “I think the best kind of ministry is to be a retired missionary,” one said. And they all laughed at the thought. Perhaps today the best kind of ministry is to provide mission wherever we are. That is what we are called to be and do, as disciples.
If you wish to make comments in response to this article, or ask questions, or add information, please do. That is what this blog is for!