Remembering the Class of 1920

We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly ³    remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labour of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. 

^{4     I I}

--I Thessalonians 1:2-3, New Revised Standard Version

 

Just to be clear: I was not there in 1920 when the last German-language confirmation class gathered in the school house on the parish lawn.  I was not there on Palm Sunday (March 28, 1920) when the class members accepted their baptismal promises and committed themselves to following Jesus at St. Paul Evangelical Church.  I was not there, but I had the privilege of being the pastor of St. Paul United Church of Christ sixty-two years later.  All but one of the members of that class were still active in the life of the congregation.  One had moved on to become a pastor and a leader in the denomination, but the rest remained life-long residents of the community and active members of the church.  Confirmation in 1920, by the grace of God, was real for Lizzie, Bill, Helen, Ida, Ella, and Paul.  I remember.

Following Jesus was at the core of their lives and faith.  They worshipped.  They kept their heart attuned to the voice of Jesus (piety), and they were able to hear and respond to the deep cries of the world (mission).  They were generous.  They gave themselves to the work of the church because they were disciples of Jesus, living in community.  When they died, they left generous bequests for the future of the little church that had nurtured them throughout their lives.

There is a legendary, inspirational story of a Saturday night pinochle game.  Two couples, each with a spouse from the Class of 1920, began to visit about what the church had meant to them and what they would leave in their wills.  This is not the kind of casual conversation that one encounters at a social event; but it was normal for these church members.  Their feelings for the church ran deep and were at the heart of their beings.  This was an early planned giving seminar--heart to heart, eye to eye, faith to faith testimony time. 

The Class of 1920 shaped the spirit and ministry of a young pastor far more than they could possibly know.  I continue to hold them in my heart and be inspired by their example.  My prayer is that I, too, will embody our faith by following Jesus, sharing the bounty that God has given, hearing the Spirit speak and responding to the cries of those around me in the world.  I pray that I will love the church as much as they did--even with its complexities, conflicts, and brokenness.  I pray that God will grant us generous and hopeful hearts that we may be disciples whose example is worthy for others to follow.

And then, there was the Class of 1921 . . . another inspirational story for another time.  I remember with humility and deep gratitude.
 

Sabbatical Time: Experiencing A New Way of Being

I am in Branson, Missouri.  It's family vacation time.  Beauty surrounds us.  It's rained here, thankfully.  Sabbath time continues and is very good.

My days begin with a new way of praying--more intentional intercession--more listening for the Stillspeaking God.

Early in the day, I take a long walk along Hwy. 76 (Main Street) before it gets too hot and the traffic gets stalled.  The hills are a challenge, and there are lots of hills here.

I am reading Walk in a Relaxed Manner: Life Lessons from the Camino by Joyce Rupp.  It was a gift from a pastor as I began my sabbatical journey.  It is the perfect gift for one who is often consumed with the outcome and focused on the destination rather than simply appreciating the process and enjoying the journey.
 
Yesterday I created a Twitter account.  This technology stretches the introvert in me.  (I think to speak, not speak to think.)  I had a CB radio in the 1970s, and did much more listening than talking.  I never felt like I had much to contribute to a conversation--especially one with a lot of strangers.  As an ordained minister I've had to work to overcome that feeling.  Anyway, I'm on Twitter now. 

I am also enjoying the time with family.  We had opportunities in the evenings to visit with our son Jesse who lives and works in Springfield (just up the road about 40 minutes).    We celebrated my mother's birthday last Sunday.  Tomorrow, we are gathering with good friends in Mt. Sterling in the hills above the Gasconade River. 

God is good.  Life is good.  The journey continues . . . .

Are We There Yet?

"In everything do to others as you would have them do to you;

for this is the law and the prophets." 

 --Jesus in Matthew 7:12

As we left Concord last week for a summer road trip, the familiar question was on my lips about a mile from our house, "Are we there yet?"  We laughed. 

The news this morning is about violence again--violence against a Sikh temple in Oak Creek, Wisconsin.  Six people are dead because a gunman may have been crazy with hate and misunderstanding.  "Are we there yet?"  Instead of laughter, I hear Jesus cry.

This trip is bringing be close to my roots. I write from the Missouri Ozarks. Here in the Bible belt I am struck by the political ads for those gearing up for the upcoming primary election. It's still politically fashionable to be selfish when it comes to those at the margins of our society. And, the tone is offensively loud and obnoxious. The ads are poison. No wonder so many have given up on the political process. "Are we there yet?" Instead of laughter, this time, I hear Jesus sigh.

Yesterday, a former governor and talk show host appeared on our TV to praise the owner of a chicken fast-food restaurant for expressing his support for "the biblical definition of the family unit" to the Baptist Press.  Ok.  More noise while our families and friends continue to suffer from fear and discrimination.  "Are we there yet?"  Instead of laughter, I hear Jesus say, "Follow me." 

The journey continues . . . .