Consider the common nail.  Its purpose is to hold things together; its design suits its function very well.  When a nail is first employed its sharpened point violently and efficiently pierces the surface of the one material to be fastened to the other.  Driven deeper and deeper, the nail finally penetrates the one, and then begins sinking deep into the other.  Given enough length, the nail will finally penetrate the second object where its shaft may be bent over so that the two in essence become one providing great strength and security.  The two objects are joined, affixed.  Only until one is ripped from the other, or the nail straightened and driven back can the two be separated.

 

Consider the hand.  Its purpose is to grasp and to hold things.  Its design suits its function very well.  When the hand is first employed it reaches out with an intended purpose.  Its fingers grasp an object and hold it firmly, supporting as much weight as it can bear.  When the weight becomes too great, one hand may reach out in assistance to another.  Given the right set of circumstances, a hand can provide great strength and security.  It can provide a means to do work, or as in many circumstances, a hand can apply a gentle loving touch, a simple caress.  Hands can even speak.  No, they cannot talk, but they can communicate.  Hands can say “I love you.”

 

Now consider the cross, where nails and hands meet.  Neither functions toward its desired purpose.  The nail rips through the flesh of the hand, penetrating through to the rough wooden beam.  The hand is wounded, broken, bleeding.  It is unable to grasp, unable to hold.  The nail is misused in a most despicable way, tearing down rather than building up.  It restrains the hand, destroys its ability to do work, to apply a gentle loving touch.  The nail denies the hand its desire to touch, to apply a gentle caress.  Yet, given the right set of circumstances, the hand still speaks.  Though wounded and bleeding, pierced and dying, the hand reaches out and says “I love you.”

 

 

Lent Cross of Christ Crucifixion Lenten Meditation hands Church

 

Repairs to the leak around the stained glass window above the altar…$300.

 

Patching up the plaster and painting the walls in the chancel…$470.

 

New ceiling installed at the church’s front  entrance…$400.

 

Fresh paint throughout the sanctuary…$1750.

 

Oooo’s and Ahhh’s  from our visitors as they enter God’s house…Priceless!

How many times have you wondered, “Why can’t I seem to get motivated to do the things I used to do?”  It is a fair question, after all, one that I’m sure most people have asked of their selves at one point.  In my case, this is a question that I have been asking myself with regards to blogging.  What is it that has been holding me back?  Well, I can’t honestly answer this question, but I do know that it isn’t due to a lack of something to write about.

 

Since beginning my call as pastor here at the church on the corner, there have been so many wonderful stories to tell.  There never seems to be a dull moment, and if there is I need only go for a walk on the streets of our corner of God’s kingdom.  I always find someone interesting to talk to or see something out of the ordinary.

 

Case in point:  Today has been one of those rainy days where there isn’t much pedestrian traffic.  The door buzzer has not sounded except for those coming to Bible study and entering through the only locked door in the church.  I have been able to catch up on writing letters to visitors and members who have been missed.  And I have been able to work on the next couple of confirmation lessons.  For the most part, I have been confined to the office so I decided to go for a walk.  I didn’t get far before one of God’s children stopped me in my tracks and asked me for some spare change.  Again, that isn’t out of the ordinary, but this person had a new twist.

 

“Pardon me sir,” he said, “but do you have 57 cents I could borrow?”  “That’s it, 57 cents?  How in the world did you come up with needing 57 cents?” I asked.  “Well, I have these two quarters and I need a dollar.”  After talking with this gentleman for a few minutes, I felt like he needed a little more than what he had asked, so I tried to give him five dollars.  To my surprise he would not take it.  “I just need 57 cents” he said.  So I motioned for him to follow me.

 

When we got to my truck, I opened the door and found 57 cents in my spare change drawer (ash tray).  Handing it to him I asked if he was sure that was all he wanted and he turned and said the most intriguing thing to me.  “Pastor, if I take your five dollars now, you won’t have anything for me tomorrow.”  Made sense, but here is the kicker.   I suddenly realized that he was at worship a few weeks ago when I preached a sermon about Israel and the manna from heaven.  Before I had a chance to say anything else, the man bid me farewell and said, “Take only what you need for today, and God will provide what you need tomorrow.”

 

Told you…never a dull moment and always another surprise.  Thanks be to God!

 

 

Daily bread Kingdom of God Christian Church

On my first day as pastor at the church on the corner, I saw a man sitting on the front stoop of our sanctuary as I pulled up to the church.  He was reading a newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee.  After parking I opened up the side door and put my things in the office building foyer and then walked to the front to say hello.  By the time I got there he had already moved on.  At that moment I decided that the next morning I would have a cup of coffee ready, and I would meet him on the front step and introduce my self.  That was the plan, but it took about ten days of hits and misses before I finally got to say hello.  Since that day, Greg and I have become friends.

 

I have written several posts about the homeless men who occupy our little corner of God’s kingdom, and I have mentioned how they like to congregate on our church steps in order to share the days news with each other.  Not every such bull session is a welcome occurrence mind you, and when the smell of alcohol wafts up from the crowd I move them along.  But for the most part, everything is quiet and these men show the proper respect for the church and those who pass by.  I’m convinced it is because Greg won’t have it any other way.

 

I have been pastor for six months now, and Greg and I have shared many cups of coffee.  We talk about sports, the neighborhood, politics, and sometimes we even share a little bit about our own life stories.  Greg may be homeless, but not because he is without education or other means.  He has a college degree and also skills as a welder.  Yet, one day due to some overwhelming circumstances, Greg had enough and simply withdrew from society.  He bounces from odd job to odd job in order to make enough money for beer and cigarettes, not to mention a pint or two of is favorite spirits.  Still, he keeps to my policy of no alcohol near the church and he makes himself scarce when he has had too much to drink.

 

So why tell all about this now?  Well, it is because I have come to realize that Greg’s and my friendship has reached a new level of mutual love and trust.

 

On Tuesday evening, Greg came by the church on the corner and invited me to a party.  He had already had plenty of celebration, and I was surprised that he would come by the church in such a state.  The party was going on at the barber shop around the corner where all of the regulars from the streets were celebrating Barak Obama’s inauguration.  I told Greg that I couldn’t come, but I would have coffee waiting in the morning.  With that, Greg headed out the door and into the night.  The next morning came and went and I wondered what ever became of my friend.  I had finally given up on him for the day when the door buzzer rang sometime around 2:00PM.

 

Greg came in and it was quite obvious that the celebration was continuing.  I invited him to our lounge and said I would put on a pot of coffee, so we headed in that direction.  Suddenly Greg stopped walking, looked at me and said, “Pastor…David, I need your help.  I’m an alcoholic and I’m killing myself by drinking.  I need you to lock me up.”  Wow…it came so unexpectedly.  Greg looked me straight in the eye and told me he wanted to serve God, be the man he is supposed to be, and get help to overcome his addiction.

 

I took my friend upstairs where my secretary was and told him to tell her what he had told me.  She too is very fond of Greg and for a moment she could not speak.  Both of us were taken totally by surprise.  Less than an hour later, Greg and I were in my truck on our way to a faith based rehab that I had heard of by a social worker only days earlier.  He wanted to go at that moment; no bags, no extra clothes, no phone calls.  He just wanted to go, so we did.  I dropped him off, asked if he was sure, and left him in good care.

 

The next morning I went to Wal-Mart and got my friend a couple pair of new jeans, socks, boxers, a few shirts and toiletries.  I also got him a large print Bible and a few magazines and took them to the rehab about 50 miles away.  I found my friend in good spirits.  He is where he wants to be, getting the help he needs, and is ready to take the long hard trek that awaits him.  He knows that I’ll check on him from time to time, call him and visit every couple of weeks.  He will need that support and I know that others in my congregation will help in this endeavor.

 

As I reflect on this experience, (pastors are supposed to reflect) I can’t help but be amazed with how God’s mission and ministry unfold, and how God’s people become such a big part of this plan.  We are all called to love our neighbor, welcome the stranger and to care for the sick.  We are to feed the hungry, give shelter to the poor and clothing to the naked.  For as much as we do this to the least of these, we do this to Christ.  I thank God for giving me such a concrete reminder of this calling, and for the life and friendship of Greg, who by the way is a great and humble man.

 

Grace and peace be with you all.

Barack Obama homelessness alcoholism alcoholic rehab Church

On this unique day in American history, let me pause and tell you a little bit about my grandmother.  My Grandma Bea was a mover and shaker, and hers was a life filled with public service and doing so many good things for so many people.   She was also one who believed that when great moments in history unfold, people should pause and take them in.  I’m so grateful to her for instilling this attitude in all of us, and it was a gift she gave to me at the earliest of ages.  Thanks to her, I was sure to take time out to witness some great moments of our time.

 

One of my first memories of such behavior was as I watched the funeral procession for John F. Kennedy.  I was almost four years old, but I can still remember sitting on her office floor and the black and white television set provided the only sound in the room.  Everyone else just sat and cried.  In that same office I was able to watch as Walter Cronkite provided narrations for the various Gemini and first Apollo space missions, and then on July 20, 1969 we watched as Neil Armstrong took those first steps on the moon.

 

As I grew older I made sue that I was able to watch as Henry Aaron broke Babe Ruth’s home run record, as Richard M. Nixon resigned the office of the Presidency, the war in Viet Nam come to a close and so many other events that helped shape our culture.

 

Twenty-eight years ago to the very moment of my writing this post, I was sitting with my Uncle Art as we watched Ronald Reagan take the oath of office.  Sadly, Uncle Art is no longer with us, but the tradition of pausing and taking notice continues.

 

As I finish this post, President George W. Bush and President-Elect Barak Obama are making their way down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington D.C. headed for the nation’s capitol building.   As I watch, I can’t help but think of my grandmother and how she must also be watching.  After all, she loved to pause and take it all in.

Barak Obama George Bush President Inauguration history

As with most experiences during my first year as pastor, our Thanksgiving Eve service was a source of great anticipation for me, and also a source of some anxiousness.  St. Barnabas had not had such a service in several years, and given that we are a small congregation, I couldn’t help but wonder how many folks would come.  I can remember being a member of such a church where during evening services the number of folks in the choir out numbered the people in the pews.  My first thought when I remembered this was “Yikes, the choir wasn’t asked to sing tonight so they won’t be here either.”

 

Ever the optimist, when I printed up the bulletin I made plenty of copies.  Perhaps only a handful of folks would attend, but I would be ready in either case.  When the volunteer came to set up for communion, she asked how much bread, how much wine?  We decided to set the table for 50, just so there would be enough for everyone.  Wishful thinking perhaps, but Christ never skimped on anything so why should we?  She set the table and I set out the bulletins.  Our music director settled in and finally we were ready.

 

As I put on my vestments in the sacristy, I said one more prayer.  I prayed that even though we will be a small group, our worship would be lively, our voices strong and that our gifts of worship, money and food would be pleasing to God.  After all, our worship is the first fruits of our labor that we offer in thankfulness to God, and Jesus promises to be with us no matter how small in number we are.  For the first time in about a week, I was very glad I didn’t give in to naysayers and we were having a Thanksgiving Eve service.

 

Since my coming to St. B I have experienced many wonderful surprises.  God has provided me with many exciting ministry moments, and just when I think I have it all figured out, God’s always ready to surprise me again.  Following my prayer, I walked through the sacristy door and into our sanctuary.  As I made it to the foot of our chancel I was again blessed with one of God’s surprises.  Our church was not full, but there was a good number of folks who put their busyness aside in order to worship God and give thanks.  But he best surprise I could imagine was not that we had a good crowd, but that we had visitors!

 

God calls us to be a beacon pointing to Christ, to open the doors of our churches and invite those who are seeking God’s love and fellowship to come in and see that the Lord is indeed good.  We did not publicize our service other than in our Sunday bulletin (an oversight that won’t happen again) and we made no special effort to invite the community (another oversight that won’t happen again).  Yet, strangers in our midst became friends and together we experienced the perfect love of God in Christ Jesus.

 

I thank God for all the wonderful surprises he springs on me fro time to time, and for the ministry of the faithful congregation gathered here on the corner.  Sure, we’re small in number, but with loving hearts and willing hands we are able to do the things God has called us to do, specifically loving our neighbors and being faithful witnesses to God’s love through Christ Jesus.

 

Happy Thanksgiving, and God’s peace be with you all.

 

 

Thanksgiving worship Jesus church communion

I’m sure that we are all very familiar with the song “What a Friend we Have in Jesus.”  It is a beautiful song that everyone, from the youngest child to the most senior adult loves to sing.  In my own humble opinion, we don’t sing this song nearly enough.  There is also an old saying that goes something like, “A friend of so-and-so’s is a friend of mine.”  Taking these two things into consideration, I’d like to tell you about a friend of Jesus.

 

I only know this person as Freddie.  Freddie is a simple man, perhaps in his mid fifties.  He doesn’t seem to have a lot going for him and I would suppose he never did.  I don’t know Freddie’s background, but if I had to guess I would say that he is a highly functioning autistic man.  I don’t know where he lives, who his family members are or even if he has any family.  The only thing I know about Freddie is that he is a friend of Jesus, and so he is a friend of mine.

 

Freddie stops by to visit us here at the corner church from time to time on Sunday morning.  When he comes he only asks for one thing; Freddie wants to pray the Our Father.  He usually seeks out the pastor, but if for some reason I am not available, he will pray with another parishioner.  Freddie is not picky when it comes to prayer partners.  This is how I know he is a friend of Jesus.  Freddie takes seriously Jesus’ promise that where two or more are gathered in his name, Jesus also is there in their midst.

 

Freddie stopped by last Sunday to say hello and to pray.  I hadn’t seen him in a while so it was good to lay eyes on him and to know he is alright.  The streets of our little part of God’s kingdom have been unseasonably cold, and I worry about folks like Freddie.  He was bundled up wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a scarf around his neck.  Over his shoulder was his familiar old back pack.  Freddie came upstairs to my office and in usual quiet way extended his hand and asked if I would pray the Our Father.  At the Amen, Freddie wished for me a blessed day and with that was off to another adventure.

 

There is never a dull moment here on our little corner of God’s kingdom, and each day brings a new surprise.  Sometimes Jesus pops in for an unexpected visit, and sometimes our Lord’s friends stop by.  But what I love most about being called to this community is being able to look out my window onto the kingdom streets and seeing so many of God’s children at work or at play.  The best part is that at any given moment, one of Jesus’ friends will stop in and say hello.

 

 

What a Friend We have in Jesus autism Kingdom of God Christian Church Our Father Lord’s Prayer

After only a few weeks as pastor here at the church on the corner, I realized there was a great transition to be made.  There were new relationships to form and ministry to build.  Of course some things had to be scaled back and one such item was my time spent riding the waves of the blogosphere.  Frequent readers of this blog noticed a drop off in posts, and several emailed me with words of encouragement as I began this new chapter.  I didn’t know how long I’d be away, but I knew I would return to regularly posting my thoughts within these pages.  As my relationship of mutual respect and love for my congregation is growing, I feel compelled to once again hunt and peck my way to relating the stories of our life together here at the corner of Rutledge and Moultrie.  But first, here is a little background on what has passed.

 

Without going into too much detail, I knew that the church extending me a call to be their pastor was a church that has been going through much transition during the last five years or so.  Actually, it has been longer than that, but in so many circumstances, the last five years have brought about the most serious challenges. 

 

In October of 2004, my predecessor pastor succumbed to complications suffered from a heart attack.  Pastor “Rocky” Hendrix was a fixture in the city of Charleston, having served this church for thirty five years.  In fact, St. Barnabas was his only call after leaving seminary.  A short time before his death, Pastor Rocky had announced his impending retirement.  After a very long pastorate, change was going to come to St. B.  Still, no one was ready to say good bye to their beloved pastor, and his sudden death denied them any opportunity to bid him farewell.

 

As the congregation began to pick up the pieces, an interim pastor was called to a one year term contract and the family gathered at St. B began working through the grieving process.  Needless to say, the road was not without a few bumps and curves, and as stumbling blocks appeared they took their toll on the church’s membership.  By the end of the first year several members and their families had transferred to other congregations.  Undaunted, the church recognized the gifts of their interim pastor and called her to become full time pastor at St. Barnabas.

 

Now, you may be wondering why I refer to Pastor Hendrix as my predecessor, and that is a fair question.   The truth is, after thirty five years and the sudden loss of a beloved pastor, a congregation cannot just move on no matter how much they would like to.  No one was going to come here and immediately follow “Rocky” without benefit of a long interim period.  Twelve months was just not enough time to heal the wounds.  As the months passed, I believe it became clear to the new pastor that her ministry here was to be the long unintentional interim pastor this congregation needed.  She did wonderful things during her three years of ministry here, and the healing did begin.  Again, there were definite bumps in the road, and more members left the church.  But with so much transition taking place, these things could not have come as a surprise.

 

In July of this year, God’s people gathered at St. B called me to be their pastor, recognizing qualities in my character that seemed to fit well with the personality and passion of this congregation.  It is a humbling feeling to be called to such a place, and any pastor can perhaps relate to this feeling upon receiving their first call.  Not only did this congregation welcome me into the fold, but they welcomed my family as their own and from the first moments of our ministry here, we knew we had found our new church family.  I came to St. Barnabas with great expectations and believing that I have been blessed by God in two wonderful ways.

 

First, even though I had heard many stories about Pastor “Rocky” over the years, I never actually met him.  Therefore, I do not have a physical model that I feel I must live up too, and that’s a relief because I can’t be anyone other than myself.  My second blessing is that I do know the pastor who came to St. B after Rocky died.  She is a friend and I enjoy talking with her from time to time; not about specific challenges, but mostly about her experiences while helping a congregation to move through grief.

 

And now our mutual ministry is beginning to take shape.  As I say often to the folks gathered here, God is calling us to do marvelous things, and he promises to provide all that we need to do his will.  All we need is faith that God will make this happen, and love for one another as we work together in our little corner of God’s kingdom, the corner of Rutledge and Moultrie.

 

 

blogging pastor Kingdom of God change Church ministry

Four weeks ago when I was asked if it would be alright for the girls in our middle school Sunday school class to open our congregation meeting with a song, I thought it was a nice idea.  Congregation meetings usually seem to be one of those necessary things we do, but don’t ever enjoy doing them.  Having our kids sing might just lighten up the atmosphere a little.  Besides, these kids are old enough to tune into the goings on in the church, but they are not yet old enough to vote on such matters.  Even though they have no vote in the meeting, I do feel they have a stake in what we are doing as a congregation.  Having them take part in our meeting made sense to me.

 

Our congregation is small and we don’t have a youth or children’s choir, so my expectations were not too lofty.  I have heard these girls sing, and they are quite good, so I knew they would do a good job.  Each of these girls loves to sing and each one has begun singing in our adult choir on Sunday mornings.  All of this being said, when they stood before our congregation getting ready to sing, I settled in and got ready to hear our girls sing something simple, yet very nice.

 

I am willing to admit that at the very first note, the very first syllable sung, my expectations were more than met.  I was blown away!  Our girls sang a song entitled “Give Us a New Vision.”  Their four part harmony, the blending of their voices and the way in which they sang brought a tear to my eye.  On a day when were to focus on our giftedness as a congregation, and our thankful response we offer God through our giving, these five young ladies gave us a real lesson on what it means to give God the first fruits of our labors.

 

Thanks to their Sunday school teacher, who did a wonderful job selecting a song for the girls to sing and directing them while accompanying on the piano.  She is also very talented and it is a joy knowing that our children are in such capable hands.  I can see more meetings opening with song, and I hope our girls will continue to offer their wonderful gift to God and to our congregation.

 

 

music Sunday school Stewardship song harmony

Even though tomorrow is Christ the King Sunday, it is also the day for our annual congregation meeting to approve the next year’s church budget.  For one, I do not support the notion of holding this sort of meeting on such a feast day of the Church, but I am not the one in charge of schedules.  But given the circumstances, perhaps Christ the King has a little to say about how we intend to practice good stewardship of our money over the next twelve months.

 

Preaching stewardship of our money is difficult enough without having to address the issue during an economic crisis.  With all the talk and headlines concerning government bailouts, plunging stock markets, and increasing unemployment figures, I hope the stewardship message does not fall upon deaf ears.  Turning in any direction, one finds people wondering how they are going to pay bills, buy groceries, and attend to all of their financial commitments, all of this even before they consider the up coming Christmas shopping season.  All in all, it is a tough assignment for any pastor to talk seriously about money with so much financial distress looming, but it is a necessary task.

 

I hope that, as I write this post I have parishioners seriously considering their financial commitment to the church for the next year, and realizing that Christ the King will provide them what is required to meet their needs.  God will more than meet their needs both in this world and the world yet to come.  In order to truly believe this and see God’s work in action, we must step out in faith and prayerfully define our needs versus our wants.  Perhaps this is where we should listen to Christ our King.

 

Jesus said the greatest commandment is to love God with all our heart, soul and mind, and to love our neighbor as our selves.  Notice money is not specifically mentioned, but unless I miss my guess, the little word “all” seems to include that as well.  Where our hearts are, there lies our treasure (most notably money).  As Christians, our first responsibility is to the God who created us, our Redeemer who saves us, and the Holy Spirit who sustains us.  All other worldly gods (insert your favorite here _______ ) should get in line.

 

What we most often want is to live life on own our terms, enjoying each and every minute to its fullest.  What we need is a life worthy of God’s mercy and love.  None of the world’s “other gods” can provide us with life, breath, love or salvation.  They can’t give us comfort in troubled times, forgive our sins or grant us everlasting life.  Only God can give us this, and God gives it so freely through Christ our King.

 

So, taking seriously our calling and commitment to love God above all else, we should gladly and thankfully render the first fruits of all we have (especially money) to God our provider.  Yes, it is a tall order, especially as we consider all of those other distractions such as our homes, jobs and retirement accounts.  It takes faith to put our creature comforts on the back burner and live our lives in service to God.  It takes faith to serve rather than to be served, but Christ has served us so unselfishly already, and believe it or not, God has blessed us richly.

 

Yep, it will be a tall order to preach such a message tomorrow, but suddenly I get the sense that I already have.

 

Grace and peace to you all!

Faith Christ the King Stewardship Money Economy Unemployment