A Lot of Ministry

Parking lot fellowship was the best.  People lingered, lounged on the hoods or trunks of their cars, or opened the car door and sat with their feet on the pavement.  The evening church services were so wonderful that nobody was ready to go home quite yet.  Maybe it was just being outdoors, but there was an atmosphere that made people comfortable. We took time to chat and get to know each other.  We were relaxed and apt to open up a little bit and share things that were of a more personal nature.  A lot of ministry took place on the lot.   

Kids took advantage of their parents’ lollygagging to enjoy more play time with their friends.  Teenagers clumped together in a clump to do teenager stuff.  The women talked of fears, loves and struggles.  Men walked and talked — speaking encouragement into each others’ lives.

As the sun began to set, we said our goodbyes and piled into our cars for the trip home.  It sure had been nice — kind of like sitting and swinging on my granny’s porch after a big meal.  We had partaken of the Bread of Life, savored the Living Water of His presence, and chowed down on the milk, honey and meat of His word.  It was hard to break the physical bond because of the spiritual bond that had formed among us.  

We were God’s children basking in the afterglow of His radiance, swapping tales of His lovingkindness, and dreaming of a city whose builder and maker is God.

Sometimes we took the parking lot home with us.  One night I invited several families and even a visitor or two to come over after church for a bite to eat, forgetting that was exactly what they would find in my kitchen — just a bite — until the drive home.

“Well, Jesus fed a whole bunch of people with 5 loaves and 2 fishes,” I thought.  “It’ll work out.”

Everyone was quite buoyant as they came in my house.  We gathered in the kitchen still excited about the move of God in our services that day.  While they talked and laughed, I placed before them a half loaf of bread, a half jar of peanut butter, a full jar of grape jelly, half a bag of Oreos and water to drink all around.   I passed out some knives and napkins, and you know what?  They were so intent on sharing what God had done in their lives, they never even noticed what or if they were eating or that they were fixing it themselves!

“A simple meal with love is better than a feast where there is hatred.”  — Proverbs 15:17

Liar! Liar!

His pants are on fire all the time.  He just lies and lies and lies.  I was driving home from church one afternoon, and he spoke to me just as clearly as if he were sitting in the front seat next to me, “She hates you.”

The “she” was a nice woman I had been praying for, and she didn’t hate me.  She had been kind and helpful to me.  Why would she hate me?  And then it began – the self-doubts, which can eventually lead to giving credence to the devil’s lies.  Well, maybe it was because I said something, or maybe … wait a minute.  

I decided to not even go down that road.  Scripture has a different way of handling these things – “casting down imaginations.”  And that’s what this was, an imagination.  A seed planted in my mind by the enemy of my soul.  This wasn’t new.  He has been doing this since the Garden of Eden.  And he had tried it with me before.  I knew all about his wiles.

One time he even got physical.  I was in the kitchen fixing dinner and singing, singing, singing – practicing for the Easter cantata.  As I crossed the room, I suddenly bent over in great pain.  It was as if someone had punched me really hard in the gut.  Wham!

Holding my aching belly, I straightened up, looked around, didn’t see anyone.  Then it dawned on me.  Satan wanted me to stop singing praises to God.  Well, that wasn’t about to happen, so I yelled as loud as I could, “When He was on that cross, I was on His mind!”  No more pain, singing continued, case closed.

So when he told me this woman hated me, I did like Barney Fife and “nipped it in the bud.”  This was a “high thing” that exalted itself “against the knowledge of God.”  Now it can’t exalt itself above the knowledge of God, just against it, because there is no knowledge above God. 

I started by trying to think of the knowledge I had of God.  What did I know about God?  Well, I knew plenty.

He is my shield, my buckler, my friend who sticks closed than a brother.  He is a fortified city on a high hill.  He is my Savior, my kinsman-redeemer, my soon-coming King.  He loves me.  He’s always loved me. He will continue to love me.  He is great.  He is good.  He is faithful.  He will never leave me or forsake me.  He is the same yesterday, today and forever.

It didn’t take long before I was completely wrapped up in thoughts of the goodness of God.  I had forgotten all about the liar’s lies.

“For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;

“Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.” 

— 2 Corinthians 10:4-5 (KJV)

Volunteers

Part of my job was recruiting volunteers, and I was good at it — mostly because I had to be.  Churches have a lot of things that need to be done and not nearly enough money or manpower to go around.  I REALLY needed people to help.

A woman (let’s call her Penny) had always wanted a full-time position at the church. While off work for a week from her regular job, I asked if she would be interested in volunteering in the church office.  She was thrilled!

The first day of orientation went well.  She talked a lot and asked a lot of questions.  The next day, she seemed a little “put out” that there were so many routine, mundane tasks.  She was more intent on doing the spiritual things.

Sometimes we fail to recognize that routine, mundane tasks are a part of our spirituality.  Ghandi is quoted as saying, “While you are doing it, cleaning the toilet seems like the most important job in the world.”

When I first became a church secretary, I was just a little unnerved when I saw the dark, dingy, narrow, overstuffed room with block walls.  The desk was ancient.  It appeared to be standard Army issue form World War I.  There was a rough-hewn homemade wooden workbench that served as counter space.  Boxes covered the floor; papers littered the flat surfaces.  And there was a bare bulb ‘way up high in the 15-foot ceiling dangling below what looked like a yellowed, plastic chinese coolie hat.

The telephone was old; the typewriter was old.  The one bright spot was an 8-foot window.  Of course, there were no blinds or curtains.  The weather and the spiders had decorated the panes of glass so that little was visible through it.  But it was a window.

I asked God, “What do you want me to do?”

“Keep track of my people,” he answered.

And that’s how I got started.  I pitched, tossed, dusted and straightened.  Then I set about the business of organization — compiling a list of names, addresses and phone numbers of church members, area pastors, businesses and anyone else I could think of.  I began keeping track of His people.

Over the years, the church offices I used changed, were remodeled, renewed and freshened up.  They became lighter, bright, more spacious.  I didn’t have to stay in my Bob Cratchit office for too awfully long.  I was mindful of the admonition in God’s word not to despise small beginnings. (Job 8:7)

My new protege Penny wasn’t impressed with folding newsletters and applying address labels.  Sure, it was repetitive — even boring — but it was needed to keep His people informed.  I liked to pray over each family represented on the labels.  It was an extra that the U.S. Postal Service couldn’t deliver.

Penny didn’t seem to appreciate the blue carpet, Ethan Allen furniture, and elegant lighting.  She didn’t seem to notice the custom-made white cabinets and updated office equipment.  After three days of answering the phone, preparing bulletins, and unclogging a toilet or two, she decided that being at the church full-time wasn’t her “thing.”  She never again said that she wanted to work full-time at the church.

The ladies who were home in the daytime were my immediate go-to’s for many things.  They could prepare mailings, collate annual publications, do the gardening, decorate for banquets, cook meals for the sick, send cards, sew costumes, wash windows, clean, go on hospital visitation, and look marvelous while they did it.

The men who were home in the daytime were assigned different tasks.  They repaired the roof, electrical, plumbing, and the church van; built sets for dramas; cooked meals for church gatherings; painted; hosed down stuff; posted signs; mowed the lawn; hauled off trash; and helped people move.

Some of my favorite volunteers were the teenagers.  I taught them how to do a lot of different things — from telephone etiquette to bookkeeping.  They were eager, capable and fast learners.  They were fun, funny and appreciative.  Some of them were there because they had to be (court-appointed community service), but most of them just wanted to be right in the thick of the Church of What’s Happening Now.  Many of them still are!  There were several who became pastor’s wives and even one missionary.

One of our in-trouble boys was Hispanic.  He didn’t fit in with American kids at school, so he had to train himself to “be tough.”  That got him into a lot of trouble.  While working out his sentence at the church, he softened, began to listen to the voice of the Lord and changed his ways.  He graduated high school with good grades and served as just the right role model his younger brother needed to avoid the same pitfalls.  Today he is a responsible husband and father and very active in his church.

Frequently I led Royal Rangers and Missionettes on patrol to “police the grounds.”  They picked up trash in the churchyard and along the roadway.  Armed with a plastic bag and a sincere willingness to help, they were invincible.

Every year the Kindergarten Sunday School class went on a field trip inside the church to pick up litter, straighten the hymnals and refill the pews with offering envelopes.  There was something noble about that young army of volunteers.

“When they let down their hair in Israel, they let it blow wild in the wind.
The people volunteered with abandon, bless God!”  — Judges 5:2

Snowy Days

We were snowed in.  It was Sunday.  All the area churches canceled services because the streets were just too treacherous.  My children were downhearted.

“Mom, can we have church here?  At home?”

“Of course we can.”

One was the preacher; one was the visiting missionary; my daughter was the choir; I was the congregation.  It was grand!

One snowy night, Jim and Betty were on their way home from ministering at the prison, or the Rescue Mission, or the nursing home (not sure which) and decided to stop in at the church.  They turned on a few lights and started gathering the materials they would need for their next ministry.  Jim knew no bounds with vehicles and so was not in the least concerned about the snow outside or how he would make it up the STEEP, STEEP, STEEP street to their home in the Brentwood Hills.

The snow was really coming down now, and it was getting difficult for drivers to climb even the slight rise just past the church driveway.  One by one, they slid back and around and down into the parking lot.  Stranded motorists filed into the church and asked for assistance.  Jim stood in the middle of the grand foyer like a traffic cop pointing left, then straight ahead.  “Telephone, bathrooms.”  “Telephone, bathrooms.”

Over 100 people were sheltered there that night.  Betty said, “The Sanctuary was Snore City.”  People crashed on the pews, chairs, floor, anywhere they could get comfortable.  They read all of the literature available.  They talked with each other and made new friends.  One family saw our light all the way from the Interstate and made their way to our door; they had no heat in their car.  The local sportscaster from Channel 5 was there.  The saved, the unsaved, the washed, the unwashed.

By 2:00 am the teenagers had had enough.  They collected money and orders from those who were still awake and trudged a mile-and-a-half to an all-night service station for munchies and drinks.

Three hours later sleepers were roused by the sounds of snow plows and salt trucks.  Grabbing their belongings, they expressed their thanks and exited the building.  What a night!

During the next weeks, I cannot tell you how many people called the church to say, “Thank you!” or sent notes about their unexpected snowy experience and even made donations to the church.

Then there was the time we had the chef.  Yes, our church had a bona fide, certified, verified, chicken-fried chef.  He wanted to cook for the family of God and anyone else who might be hungry.  

Kevin prepared gourmet meals faster than you can say, “Herb encrusted pork tenderloin with caramelized apples.”  His meals were simply not to be missed.  He was a chef  extraordinare!  C’est magnifique!  Gordon Ramsay, eat your heart out.

It was our church’s turn to host the Sectional Ministers’ meeting, so we asked Kevin to cook something special for the luncheon.  It was our time to shine, to show off for the other pastors, and, admittedly, even gloat a little.   We had a chef!

Baked garlic rosemary chicken, parmesan mashed potatoes, green beans lightly sauteed in olive oil and topped with sesame seeds, green garden salad with balsamic vinaigrette, and assorted breads.  Dessert was a peach cobbler with freshly whipped cream.  Add tea and coffee, and you’ve got a meal!

It started snowing early that day.  One by one the pastors called to say they would not be able to attend because of the weather.  Two pastors who were ‘way north of the city called to say they wouldn’t miss it!  And they didn’t.

Kevin was in the kitchen prepping and chopping and glazing and stirring and baking.  My!  My!  It certainly did smell good.

About 11:00 am the people started to arrive  — people who were stranded by the snow.   They saw our light and pulled into the parking lot.  We had a husband and wife; a mother and father with three children; the mayor-elect of our community; several delivery men; assorted men and women; three pastors; and the church secretary.

The pastors had a field day ministering to those who had been gathered from the highways and byways.  By the Master’s design, our guests had a sumptuous gourmet luncheon at the Master’s table.

After lunch, the mayor-elect decided he would not risk his new truck on the icy streets.  He said it was a short walk to his parents‘ house.  The only problem?  He had no coat or gloves.  I quickly looked through the Benevolence Closet and found a very chic and very long coat that perfectly fit his tall, thin frame.  There were gloves in the pocket.  All bundled up, we sent him on his way.

A few minutes later we got a call from his elderly mother wanting to know where her son was.

“Oh, he’s fine,” I assured her.  “He’s walking down Franklin Pike on his way to your house … dressed in a woman’s coat.”

Oh, the bounty, protection and provision of our Lord!

“Benaiah son of Jehoiada from Kabzeel was a vigorous man who accomplished a great deal. He once killed two lion cubs in Moab. Another time, on a snowy day, he climbed down into a pit and killed a lion.” — 2 Samuel 23:20 (The Message)

Babes In The Manger

I love the children’s Christmas plays.  They are never a disappointment.

If they know their lines; if they don’t know their lines

If they remember the songs and actions; if they don’t remember the songs and actions

If the kid playing the angel is an angel; if the kid playing the angel is far from angelic

If Baby Jesus is a real, live baby; if Baby Jesus is a Cabbage Patch doll wrapped in a tea towel

How many wise men have given gold, franks and sense, and fur to Baby Jesus?

How many times have we harked to hear Harold the angel sing?

How else would we ever have come to know and love Round John Virgin (mother and child)?

My personal favorite:

Joseph:  Please, sir.

Innkeeper:  No room.  Go ‘way!

Joseph:  Please, sir.

Innkeeper:  No room. Go ‘way!

Joseph:  Please, sir, my wife.  She goin’ to have a baby.

Innkeeper: OK. You can stay with the aminals.

It doesn’t matter if the kids are animated, have stage fright, are the very best actors ever, or if they just stand and pick their noses.  We love them and love the performance.  We clap and cheer.  We are so proud of them.  They are doing what we wish we could do.  They are conveying to others their knowledge of the Savior with elegant simplicity and unique charm.

Unknowingly, by their participation, they have also expressed their willingness to have this replayed at family gatherings every year — year after interminable year.  Life’s little embarrassments caught on tape (or digital recording) FOREVER.

“She looks so cute in her shawl.”

“Look!  He’s wearing his mother’s bathrobe!”

“Wait!  He’s telling everybody the innkeeper’s name is Fred!”

“Yep, that’s the year the twins played Baby Jesus. When Jacob started crying, they swapped him out for his sister.”

“Listen!  This is the part when she says Santa’s power instead of Satan’s power!”

“There she is, the Virgin Mary — chewing bubble gum.”

But don’t you love it?  Our children are learning the greatest story ever told.  They are hearing about the shepherds who receive a birth announcement from an angel.  They are memorizing scripture.  They are shouting, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, good will to men!”  They are being made aware of the humble beginnings of our Lord on this earth and how even kings from a far-away land came to worship Him and bring Him gifts.

I love the children’s Christmas plays.  They are never a disappointment.

“…Kings of the earth and all nations, you princes and all rulers on earth, young men and maidens, old men and children.  Let them praise the name of the LORD for his name alone is exalted; his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.”  — Psalm 148:11-13 (NIV)

Revival

Evangelists have a special role in today’s church.  They travel all around the country, and even the world, sharing the message of salvation.  They bring a refreshing to pastors and congregations.  They affirm the work of the local church.  They lift up, edify, exhort.

“Lord send a revival, and let it begin with me!”

Revival services can be held for one day or indefinitely. Typically, they start Sunday morning and continue with nightly meetings through Wednesday.  By the last day, people are worn out in a good way — exhilarated — having spent concentrated family time with the Ruler of the Universe.

So what makes these enthusiastic preachers of the Word tick?

The first time I saw Alice Jane, I was impressed.  A widow of only six months, she was not reticent or timid.  Her smile was broad with just the hint of a giggle.  Her white hair was a crown of God’s glory.  Her demeanor was that of an Ambassador of Christ; her bearing, regal.  She was a child of the King.

She enjoyed people.  She did not just like or tolerate them, she thoroughly delighted in people.  It was to the people that God had called her.  She moved gracefully among them with grandmotherly tenderness and serene confidence.  She laughed heartily out loud, relishing a funny story or a fond remembrance.  She didn’t hold back; she was “all in.”

Her gregarious nature did not hide the fact that she held within her heart the wisdom of the ages.  It was nowhere more evident than at the altar.  She interacted with the people as only a choice servant can.  One needed healing; another, deliverance.  A young mother needed shoring up.  A business man needed hope.  Teens needed God’s guidance.  We all clamored for a touch from God, a word of encouragement from Him.  She lingered with each one as she prayed and sought His leading.  She was not in a hurry.  People take time.  She gave hers generously.

The song I remember best that she ALWAYS sang was, “It’s real!  It’s real!  I know it’s real!  This Pentecostal blessing — I know; I know it’s real!”

Mike and Marsha loved to sing, and they love to share God’s word.  They were a tall, handsome couple — vibrant and colorful.  They talked a lot and loudly.  They listened well and whispered God’s love in ears ready to receive.

Mike shared once that as a teenager he wanted to be like the boys at school.  He asked God for “Street Smarts.”  God gave him “Street Smarts.”  He has regretted it ever since.  It didn’t take long for him to realize that “Street Smarts” were not nearly as helpful as the wisdom of God.  As a matter of fact, “Street Smarts” got in the way.

The song I remember best that they ALWAYS sang was, “If there be any virtue, if there’s ever any praise, think on these things.  Think on these.”  That’s how you counteract “Street Smarts.”

The young man from Louisiana said things like, “If Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!”  He had a way of getting your attention through the images he skillfully painted with words.

One night he spoke about our old man (“put off the old man with his deeds”).  To hammer home the message, he introduced us to Grandpa.  Now Grandpa had been dead for several years, but every night the family went back to his bedroom, dragged out his lifeless body, and sat him up in the chair.

“Preposterous!” he shouted.  “That’s preposterous!”

I think about that message sometimes when I’m tempted to relive the past or remember those sins that God has forgiven and tossed into the sea of forgetfulness.

“Preposterous!” I shout to myself.

“See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I’m making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”  — Isaiah 43:19

One of my favorite evangelists eventually became my pastor.  He is a self-described “Metho-Luther-Bapti-Costal-Episcopalianist-Jesus Junkie-Fire Baptized-Chandelier Swinging-Denominationalist — and don’t you ever try to change my mind.”

A musician and songwriter, he delivered the gospel with praises to God.

The song I remember best that he ALWAYS sang was, “Open, open, open, Keep those Bibles open.  RAWHIDE!  Through all kinds of weather, there’s truth inside that leather.  I’m keeping my Bible by my side.  Pull ‘em out; open up; take a look; live it out.  RAWHIDE!  Hyaah!”

Then he would make the sound of a whip cracking — to remind us of our weaponry, the Sword of the Spirit.

“How beautiful upon the mountains
Are the feet of him who brings good news,
Who proclaims peace,
Who brings glad tidings of good things,
Who proclaims salvation,
Who says to Zion,
“Your God reigns!”” — Isaiah 52:7 (KJV)

Every Which Way But Loose

“Where’s your mom?”  “Where’s your mom?”  “Have you seen your mom?”

My children were often bombarded with those questions at church.  It seems that everybody was always looking for the church secretary.  I was hard to pin down.

It quickly dawned on me that I should sit near the back of the church because I was often summoned by the ushers to assist with pressing matters during services.  I was dragged out of church to help count the offerings, oversee the ushers while they counted the offerings, meet with people off the street who were asking for help, assess medical issues — which ran the gamut from paper cuts to heart attacks.

Then there were all the other issues:  Where is the plunger?  Where do we keep the light bulbs?  Is there a vacuum cleaner  upstairs?  Why not?  Who has access to the electrical room?  Can you unlock the safe?  The police are in the parking lot.  I need a phone number for Johnny’s grandmother.  Do you have extra towels for the baptismal candidates?

The list was long and varied.  For years and years I came early and left late.  Sundays were not a day of rest for me — nor were Saturdays, or Monday through Friday for that matter.  But I loved it!  Being a servant in God’s house was thrilling for me.  After years of being quixotic, indecisive and clueless, God gave me stability, constancy and purpose.  Being a church secretary made my heart sing.

One of the very best parts of my job was being alone in the Sanctuary early on weekday mornings for prayer.  There was an unparalleled closeness to God in that place — that huge room that was saturated with prayer, praise and thanksgiving.  One morning I was interrupted by a visitor — a famous music evangelist who happened to be passing the church.  He was drawn there by the Spirit of God.  Imagine my surprise when I realized who was beneath the knitted cap pulled down over his ears!  Imagine his surprise when my head popped up from the pew!  Truly a close encounter of the supernatural kind!

Many people who were well-known in Christian circles came to our church.  There were also some who were not-so-well-known in Christian circles, but who are VERY-WELL-KNOWN in the heavenly realms.  Then there were those who are very well known in the realms of entertainment and business, but not in the Kingdom of God.  There was a constant parade of people of all stripes — a fascinating assortment of the unsaved, newly saved, long-time saved, third- or fourth- or fifth-generation saved.

I never knew who was going to show up next.

My mother had a sign on her kitchen door that read: “Backdoor neighbors are the best!”

There’s a lot of truth to that.  I had a back door at the church.  When the doorbell chimed, I wondered, “Now who could that be?”  There was a peephole so I could see who it was.

“Oh, it’s the UPS man!  I’ll bet he brought me some of his famous beef jerky.”

“Oh, it’s the man from the janitorial supply company.  I hope his daughter is adjusting well at college in Arizona.”

“Oh, it’s my son’s friend from Florida!  Why is he driving a red convertible?  I hope he’s here to take me to lunch!”

“Look!  It’s that lady who bakes cakes, and she has a big, white box with her.  Yum!  Yum!”

“It’s a tired mother with a carload of kids.  I’d better get the key to the Food Closet.”

“It’s Jim and Betty.  I’ll bet they’ve been on another adventure in the Lord.”

“It’s the Pastor.  Forgot his key again.”

Backdoor neighbors are the best!

Whether I was plunging clogged toilets, taking inventory in the supply closet or greeting distinguished guests, my life was satisfying, fulfilled.  God did that for me.  He took this lonely woman and placed her in a family.  He surrounded me with righteous people and gave me a hunger for His Word, a desire to know Him up close and personal.  He equipped me to tell others of His wondrous works.  Then He put me in the Grand Central Station of life — a hub of global servants, world travelers and desperate seekers — where I was pushed and stretched and pulled every which way but loose from His tight hold on me, his loving hand guiding me and His voice comforting and encouraging me.

“Where’s your mom?”  “Where’s your mom?”  “Have you seen your mom?”

Yes.  She is resting securely in the arms of Jesus!

“Freely you have received; freely give.”  — Matthew 10:8

Basic Training

I was a single mother of three.  I needed a job.  I wanted to work 2-3 days a week, 4 hours a day and make $40,000 a year.  I was offered a job at my church … part-time.  It was 3 days a week, 4 hours a day, and the children and I lived as if we were making $40,000 a year!

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, who mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.” — Isaiah 26:3

“Trust in God.  Keep your eyes on Jesus.  He will keep you in perfect peace.”

What a grand introduction to church!  I tidied the office, answered the phone, organized papers and files, prepared the bulletins and newsletters, greeted visitors, created a Rolodex file of church members, and finally figured out the intercom system.  It went something like this:

When a call came in, I would put the phone on hold and yell as loud as I could across the first floor, “Pastor!  It’s for you!”

I’m telling you.  It was a glamour job!

Eventually the job became full time.  That’s how they do it, you know.  Ease you in.  At first it’s fun and exciting being in the church during the week.  You can walk through the empty classrooms and the Sanctuary all by yourself.  It’s a great time to pray.  I prayed for the children who would be coming to class, the teachers, the congregation who would fill the pews, the choir, the musicians, the ushers.  It was fun and exciting being in the church during the week.

Then the workload increased.  There were more phone calls.  There were more projects.  There were more deadlines.  There were more ministries — a benevolence pantry, Bible studies, a Day Care Center.

Workmen appeared to fix, repair and build.  Salesmen appeared to sell us everything from cleaning products to top soil.  People from the community dropped by to find out what was happening at the Church in the Wildwood.  It was busy and hectic, and sometimes frantic and chaotic.

But our God is a God of order.  That was my job — to pray and get His guidance on how to bring some semblance of order amidst all the busy-ness.  Some days were more successful than others.

I had been treated to a giant, juicy Elvis-burger from The Happy Days Restaurant on Hixson Pike.  It sat on the corner of my desk waiting for me to dig in.  I just had to do a little filing and get some papers in order …

Nooooooooooooooooo!  

I knocked all the papers AND my Elvis-burger into the trash can.

I will not be discouraged.  I will not scream.  I will not cry.  

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

I retrieved the papers, dabbing off most of the grease, and put them in order.  I picked up my still intact Elvis-burger, dusted it off a little, relaxed in my chair, and took a big bite.   No one need ever know.  

“Some things are better caught then taught.”

Some things I caught, but since I’m sometimes (OK, most times) a little slow on the uptake, a lot of things I had to be taught.

We had a crackerjack “jack-of-all-trades-master-of-many” in our congregation.  His name was Bruce.  As a business consultant, he commanded top dollar — $150 an hour and up.  But he found himself between jobs.  To keep the family afloat during this trial, he worked a minimum wage job and used his savings.

While he was with us, he wanted to be fruitful in the Kingdom.  He started by volunteering at the church — helping with yard work and repairs.  Then he zeroed in on the church office.

He redesigned the church logo and stationery, helped develop marketing strategies for the Day Care Center and taught me a thing or two about being a professional.  

The advice that really stuck with me was, “Always let the phone ring twice before you answer.  That way you have time to stop what you’re doing, breathe, and be ready to really concentrate on what the caller is saying.

“Oh!  And one more thing.  Smile!  When you answer the phone, smile!  The caller will be able to hear the smile in your voice.”

This guy was dynamite.  All too soon he left our city to become national field director for a presidential campaign.

One of the most important things I try to pass along to church workers is confidentiality.  Case in point:  John and Laura are valued members.  If John walks into my office, I would NOT say, “Hi John!  You just missed Laura.  She met with the pastor about 30 minutes ago.

To which John might reply, “She met with the pastor?  Do you know what it was about?  Did she mention what happened last night?  Where did she go when she left here?”

Oops!  That might not turn out well.

Never take someone into your confidence to complain about another person.  Nine times out of ten, they are related. (Learned that the hard way.)

Remember that prayer requests are not for public consumption; tell them to Jesus.  

And money!!  People are really particular about money.  As the financial secretary at several churches, I had to learn a few things.

#1  When Sam calls the church, don’t say, “How in the world are you able to support your family on $50 a week?  You must really know how to budget!”

“I don’t make $50 a week.  What are you talking about?”

“Oh, sorry.  I assumed that since your ‘tithe’ is $5.00, you only make $50 a week.”

#2  NEVER thank Joey and Brittany for the $25,000 pledge to the Building Fund.  Chances are either Joey or Brittany hasn’t heard about it yet.

#3  When you print, verify and certify the annual giving records — even if you mail them before January 31 — do not assume that people actually read them.  They usually call the church office April 14 or 15 asking you to fax them to their accountant ASAP.  Be prepared.  Just say, “Be glad to.” And leave it at that.

#4  People who tithe down to the last mint leaf.  You are going to miss a check number or the $1.34 they donated to the visiting missionary.  Be prepared.  Just say, “I’ll be glad to get you a revised statement right away.”  And leave it at that.

#5  When someone says, “I didn’t tithe in money this year, but I paid for a lot of things at the church that should count as tithe,”  be prepared.  Just say, “I’ll send you a letter thanking you for your donation.  You ascribe the dollar value.”  That’s between him and the IRS and God.

#6  When children give money, send them a contribution statement at the end of the year.  It encourages them.

#7  When children graduate high school, set up a donation record in their name.  They are adults.  It will help to affirm them.

#8  When the economy “goes South,” be sensitive to the needs of the congregation and ways the church might be able to help.  “By this shall all men know ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” — John 13:35

#9  Never accept a check written in pencil (learned that the hard way, too).

#10  If someone’s check bounces, assure them that it is nothing to be embarrassed about and has happened to many people over the years.  And leave it at that.

#11  When counting the offering, ALWAYS have at least one other person with you to verify the count and sign the paperwork.

#12  If someone hands you their offering envelope as you’re walking down the hall, or sitting in Sunday School, or while you’re in the rest room, deliver it to the ushers as quickly as possible.  Don’t let it stay in your Bible or your skirt pocket until next July (I know someone who learned that the hard way.).

“And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it.”  — Psalm 90:17 (KJV)

Disappointments and Hurts

When I first came into the church, I viewed it as a refuge.  It was a safe place, a haven from the storms of life, a sanctuary.  And it is all of that.  Or it can be.  But just like everything in this earthly existence, it is touched not only by God, but also by man.

Jesus was well acquainted with religious people; they plotted his death on the cross.  He was well acquainted with those who would betray.  Judas was one of His chosen Twelve.  He was well acquainted with the double-minded, the two-faced, the indecisive, the fair-weather friends.  He was well-acquainted with the fox in the henhouse, the “inside-job” thief, the wolf in sheep’s clothing.  He was well acquainted with backbiters, gossips, people who cried, “Hosanna!” one week and “Crucify him!” the next.

He spoke of it in parables — the Parable of the Sower and the Parable of the Weeds.

We are going to encounter people who let Satan swallow up the word that they have received; people who are new in the faith and unsure and who fall away because they were planted in shallow ground and have no roots; people whose lives are far from God because they are more interested in money, possessions, popularity, and other “cares of the world;” and people who are placed in our path by the enemy of our souls.

God allows the “weeds” to stay.

“Because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them.  Let both grow together until the harvest.  At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.” — Matthew 13:29 (NIV)

Those weeds can be painful.  They can take the form of a staff member, a leader, a member of the congregation, a trusted friend.  Paul had difficulties with people.  He was vocal about confronting them in love and trying to resolve issues in peace with a desire for restoration.  Sometimes he had to just “let it go.”  But it was always painful.

How do we get through it?  Follow the biblical examples that worked.  Cain and Abel, for instance, ended badly, but Nathan’s confrontation with David ended in godly repentance.  

Paul gives explicit instruction about church discipline and about not taking your brother to court.  James wrote about the causes of fights and quarrels among the church, about the wisdom of being a peacemaker and living a life of humility before God.

“Submit yourselves, then, to God.  Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.  Come near to God and he will come near to you.  Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded.  Grieve, mourn and wail.  Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom.  Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.”  — James 4:7-10

Still, it is painful.

So what about the refuge, the safe place, the haven from the storms of life, the sanctuary?  It’s still there.  Jesus spoke of the conquerors (indeed, more than conquerors), those who endure until the end, the faithful servants.  They are the Kingdom People.  They hear the word, understand it and produce a bountiful crop.

Kingdom People want to hear that word, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant! … Enter thou unto the joy of the LORD!” — Matthew 25: 21 (KJV)

“Come and share your Master’s happiness!” (NIV)

Kingdom People are the ones who help maintain the refuge, the safe place, the haven from the storms of life, the sanctuary — the church.  Kingdom People have suffered disappointments and hurts, but have purposed in their hearts and determined in their minds to do it God’s way.  He has brought them through.

They realize there may be new disappointments and new hurts, but their hearts are open.  They are not skittish or aloof, not distrustful or suspicious.  They accept and welcome the family of God.  They are vulnerable, but discerning.  Wise as serpents, gentle as doves.

“Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.” — Ephesians 6:13

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”  —  Galatians 6:9

Day Care

The Day Care Center rocked my world a lot.  It was difficult when the children and teachers first moved in to the basement of the church.  There was a lot more work and a lot more noise. 

One day I heard a loud rumble — I mean a LOUD RUMBLE — and my upstairs office began to shake.

“Those Day Care kids,” I muttered.  “They must be trying to tunnel out!”

I was shocked to learn later that it was an earthquake on the New Madrid Fault Line in West Tennessee that shook all the way to Chattanooga.

Then there was the frozen meat guy.  He called from a pay phone on the side of the road in Soddy-Daisy, Tennessee.  It was the middle of July.

“Ma’am, I’ve got a load of frozen meat in the trunk of my car that you need for your Day Care.  If you’re gonna be there for awhile, I’ll bring it over.”

“Pardon me?”

“Oh, I’ll give you a good price.  You can just cut me a check.”

“Wait a minute.  We didn’t order any meat, and I can’t authorize payment.”

“Well, what am I gonna do with all this meat?  It’s hot out here!”

“I’ll bet it is, but that’s not really my problem now, is it?”

That’s when the phone lines turned blue with all the words he was shouting through them.  Before I came to know Jesus, I was familiar with most of those words, but now they seemed like a foreign language.  So I gently placed the phone back in its cradle and prayed he wouldn’t drive over to the church with the not-so-frozen meat.

It brought to mind a conversation I had recently had with a friend of mine who said that I didn’t know what it was like in the real world.  I lived in an isolated church bubble where everything was sweetness and light.  And I laughed to myself.

It didn’t matter which city you were in or even which day care.  The kids who were the most entertaining(translation: in trouble a lot) were Kayla and Adam, four-year-olds with wit, intelligence and an uncanny knack for getting caught.

Even today, years later, when I’m at the mall or in the supermarket, I hear mothers with raised voices calling, “Kayla, get down from there!” or “Adam, put that back RIGHT NOW!”

Kayla was a brown-eyed beauty with golden brown curls.  One day Miss Lynn noticed her in the bathroom with newsletter unfolded.  She was studying it intently.

“Kayla, what are you doing?”

“I’m reading the paper, Miss Lynn!”

“OK,” she replied with a chuckle.  “I wonder if she knows it’s upside down.”

Frequently as I passed through the day care, Adam was in “Time Out.”  I would get really close to him and whisper in his ear, “Jesus loves you.”  He always gave me a smile and seemed relieved that somebody was on his side.

Several of our teachers were from Grundy County — an area of small mountain communities with a reputation for “rough” living.  I loved to go downstairs for lunch with the ladies while the children were napping.  They told me hair-raising stories filled with adventure and danger, and they were all true.

Our cook was particularly knowledgeable about the area and the people.  She once remarked, “After he got so beat up, they took him to the hospital.  Well, you couldn’t really call it a hospital.  They didn’t even treat gunshot wounds!”

These ladies had been to town and seen the elephant.  They were the ones God sent to love the children with a special compassion and tenderness that city-folk didn’t quite understand.

Nancy LeCroy was a pretty blonde country gal.  Raised in Green Pond, Im’ not certain she had ever traveled out of Hamilton County.  Nancy was good at many things, but her forte was definitely taking care of the toddlers.

I went to the Toddler Center one day, and all of them were sleeping like angelic little lambs.  “How do you do it, Nancy?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s in the applesauce,” she said.

I now have a couch in my house that we call the “applesauce couch.”  If you lie down on it, in minutes, you are sleeping like an angelic little lamb!

The day care pre-schoolers knew how to cook.  They knew so much, in fact, that we published their cookbook.  Here are a few excerpts (as told by the children to their teachers):

Ham Meat with Noodles by Matthew

Cook 5 noodles in a pan with 5 pounds of ham for 15 hours.

Then add 10 bottles of ketchup.

Then cook for 15 more hours.

Add 1 cut-up chicken.

Cook 10 more hours.  Put it on a plate and eat it with a fork.

Broccoli, Cheese and Rice by Megan

1 pound broccoli 1 pound milk

1 pound sugar 1 pound cheese

First:  Put it in a pan with 1 pound of water.  Cook on low for 20 minutes.  Add sugar, milk and cheese.  And then she puts little green things in it (I don’t know what), but it’s good.

10 pounds of rice 1 pound water

Second:  Put on stove together for 20 minutes.  Mix with broccoli.  Put it in a big yellow, white and orange bowl and eat.

Hamburgers by Jessica

She takes 10 pounds of hamburger and pats it.  Then she puts it in the oven and burns it.  She takes it out of oven.  Put it on the bun.  Then we eat.

Plento Beans and Rice by Zachary

Put the beans in the pan with a foot of water.  Cook it for a few days.  Then you have plento beans and rice.  Serve with chicken sticks.

Strawberry Soup

She puts soup in the pan and opens the can.  Then she burns her finger, and I eat strawberries, too!

Biscuits by Whitney

Her gets them from the Red Food Store, and her cooks them and puts them in the stove.  Then we say our prayers, and her puts them on our plates, and they burn my fingers.

Toast

Mommy puts bread in the maker and cooks it, then puts butter on it, and I eat it, or I get a spanking.

Burritos by Taylor

You get them out of the freezer ad put them in the microwave for a long time until they are just warm.  Then take them out and put them on the stove while I take a bath.  Then I eat the burritos and get food all over my face, and you have to wash it again.

Bacon by John David

You put it in the pan and sing songs, and I don’t know what else, but it is good.

Spaghetti by Ashley (my personal favorite)

She opens the can.  Then put spaghetti in a pot.   She cooks on warm about 5 minutes.  And then we eat pizza that the man brings.

“Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.”  — Psalm 127:3 (KJV)

“Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.’ ” — Matthew 19:14 (NIV)