The young pastor was visiting his elderly parishioner. He was always a little intimidated when he went to this particular home. It was not that the man was hard to talk to. He was always friendly and even helped the conversation along. Rumor had it, however, that he had been a pastor of a very large church and that he had a doctoral degree in theology. Not that he ever mentioned it.
“So how are you doing today, Mr. Franklin?” asked the young pastor.
“Doing well, pastor!” he replied. He always used the title “pastor.” Never the young man’s first name, even though a couple of generations separated them.
“You always say that.”
“Well, at my age, being able to say that means it’s true!”
The young pastor didn’t know what to say to that. So he moved quickly on to the standard questions about children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. This was always a good way to eat up some time, and it was totally safe.
But as he was getting ready to leave, the young pastor made one of those safe theological comments many Christians make. “I guess as we read and hear the news today we can know that Jesus is coming soon. I imagine you can’t wait for that!”
A few moments of silence passed, just enough to make the young pastor think he had accidentally said something that offended the old man.
“Jesus is coming soon,” came the reply finally. “That’s always true. For me, what’s coming soon is my journey to go meet Him.” There was another pause. “But what the news tells me, pastor, is that God is in control. Always.”
“With all the trouble in the world, how could you say the news tells you that God is in control?” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He was supposed to be the pastor, after all, encouraging, not frightening.
Mr. Franklin smiled. “The news always tells me that God is in control.”
“So when people are dying in floods, or have their homes torn up by tornadoes, or thousands are dying in war, that means God is in control?”
“Absolutely! I imagine you learned in seminary that God is always in control. We’ve all read the book of Daniel, for example, where God sets up kings and brings them down. Or perhaps Isaiah 45:7, where God says he is equally responsible for making darkness and light, well-being and woe.”
“Well, yes, but surely good news reminds you more of God’s action. I mean I really believe God is in control, but with some of the news, it’s harder to remember. But then I think that ‘wars and rumors of wars’ are signs that the end is near. That makes me feel better.”
“There are things it’s easier to teach than it is to believe, I mean to believe to the point you really trust them. God’s control is something like that. We say God is in control when things are going well and then we wonder where God is when things are going badly. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ve either discovered that God is always there, or you’re going to have a lot of fear in your life, and that’s no fun at all.
“It’s the same thing with signs of Jesus’ coming. As long as I can remember, which I’m sure you’re thinking is a long time, I have heard preachers pointing to bad things happening in the world and telling people Jesus was obviously coming soon because of all the trouble. They scoured their Bibles for signs so they could know what was going to happen next.
“Thing is, it never worked. It’s never going to work. The reason is that the one sign you need to see is simply that God is in control, and you’re God’s servant. Keep on working with that. When you get to be my age, you’ll realize how close Jesus has been to returning all the time.”
“I’ve been wanting to ask you about the end times, but I hated to admit I don’t understand everything about it. And here you’re basically saying you don’t have a roadmap either!”
“Yes, my PhD had to be good for something. The best thing it did was teach me that I really don’t know all that much.” He paused. “But in this case my education plus a lot of experience gave me some insight. You mentioned the news as a sign of the return of Jesus. You were surprised I would respond that God is in control. But you see, it is precisely in those times when things go wrong, when they come closest to seeming to fall apart that I see most clearly that God is in control.”
“I still don’t understand. God is in control when people are slaughtering one another in war?”
“Have you ever considered our great capacity as people bring on major disasters? It’s interesting to look at history, especially recent history and consider how much worse things could have gone. One of the things we don’t always consider is the depth of human depravity.”
“Depravity? I’m not sure people would like me using that word from the pulpit.” The young pastor looked thoughtful. “People don’t like to think of themselves as depraved. It sounds so dirty. Maybe ‘limited’ or ‘weak’, but not depraved.”
“But depravity, in a theological sense, simply means we have nothing to offer God. The problem is that when we put it that way, people think of themselves as OK, but not quite up to God’s standards. They’re pretty good, just not all the way good. But the reality out there is that we humans are really good at making a mess of things. When I think of the possibility of the Nazis getting the bomb before the allies in World War II, or the possibility of the superpowers destroying the world in the cold war, or simply the millions killed because we can’t get along, I have to realize that if something didn’t stop it, we could have destroyed everything. I wonder if that’s not what happened at the flood. It wasn’t that God destroyed everybody because he didn’t like what they were doing, it was because they were going to do that by their actions, and he chose to only intervene for a few. I don’t know, but it’s a thought.
“Still, for me, when I read the bad news and then think, and we’re still here, that’s when I am most reminded that God is in control.”
“OK, I think I see that. I’m not sure I can really feel it, but I see it.”
“Give yourself another couple of decades!”
The young pastor paused, then resumed. “I’m still wondering about the signs of the end-times. Aren’t these items of bad news signs of the end?”
“Let me ask you a question. If these are signs of the end, what are you supposed to do?”
“Well, I suppose I’m supposed to try to spread the gospel and help others. I’m supposed to be a witness.”
“And if they aren’t?”
There was another pause. “Well, pretty much the same thing.” He said it reluctantly.
“So what’s the purpose of knowing precisely how the end times are going to go? Hang on to Jesus if things are going well. Hang on to Jesus if things are going badly. Hang on very tightly if things are falling apart completely. And let me tell you, it’s hardest to hang on when things are all going well. You tend to forget!”
It was a very thoughtful young pastor who left that day.
He stopped, looking at the green grass beside a gently flowing stream, wanting to stop, to rest, but the words in his head said, “Keep going,” and he staggered on.
“Because you failed to get a proper license for your stand, I have to cite you for operating it without a license,” said the official. He looked like his name could be “Official,” wearing a suit like a uniform and radiating precision.
“OK, so what’s the fine for that, and where can I get a license?” asked the young merchant.
“You would get a license from me.”
“OK, but what’s the fine, and how much does the license cost?”
“Oh, the fine is $200 per day, and the license costs $10 per day.”
“So if I can pay you $1400, and then $10 per day, I’ll be OK?”
“Well, no, you cannot purchase a license within 30 days of having been cited for not having one.”
“So I pay you $1400 and then wait 30 days to get a license and open a stand again?”
“Well, no. Once your stand has been in place for a week, which it has, you are required to give 2 full days notice before you shut it down.”
“So I’d have to pay the fine for nine days, and then shut my stand down, wait 30 days, and buy a license?”
“Well, no, once I’ve cited you for failing to get a license, and for operating without a license for a week, you can’t continue to operate. I’d have to cite you for that too. For that, the penalty is 30 days in jail.”
“And what is the penalty for failing to give two days’ notice before shutting down?”
“That’s from 30 to 90 days, depending on whether the violation is deliberate. And yours would be deliberate, because I just told you about the law, so if you stay here now, it will be a deliberate violation, and you’d certainly be sentenced to 90 days in jail.”
“So what should I do?”
“You should have found out about the law before you set up your stand.”
“But I didn’t know there were such complicated and contradictory laws!”
“Show some respect! I can also cite you for showing disrespect to our laws.”
“But isn’t there a way out?”
“A way out of the law?” The official looked scandalized. “Put your hands up on the back of your head.”
The merchant complied, but continued to complain. “But this doesn’t make any sense. There’s no way out, even paying a penalty.”
“That’s not my problem,” said the official. “I’m just the enforcer.”
“Well,” said his mother sl,owly. “I certainly do. Why?”
“I have to write a short essay for English class, expressing what I believe about a controversial subject. I’m going to write about miracles.”
“OK. So are you going to say that your mother believes in miracles?”
“I’m not sure. Tell me about a miracle you believe in.”
“Well, when the Israelites were slaves in Egypt, God sent plagues on the Egyptians so that they would let the Israelites go.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Well, I think maybe 3000 years or so,” said the mother slowly. She wasn’t sure.
“So before there was a United States. Before even Grandpa was born.”
“Well, yes. Long before that.”
“So have you ever seen a miracle?”
His mother thought for a moment. “Well, you are a miracle,” she announced triumphantly. She thought this would end the discussion.
“I don’t think that’s what the word means. How am I different from all my classmates?”
“You’re unique, just you!”
“But I came into the world in the same way that they did. I pretty much do similar things to what they do. If everything’s a miracle, there’s nothing to talk about. I’m looking for something impossible that you know happened in your lifetime. You said you believe in miracles. What miracles have happened to you, or to people you know?”
“Well, I can’t really think of anything. I’ve lived a rather ordinary life, well except for you.” She still hoped that talking about how important Jimmy was would divert him.
“I don’t count,” Jimmy said, startling his mother. “Not for this.”
“Has dad seen any miracles? Can he tell me a story of a miracle that he knows happened because he saw it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard him tell about any.”
“What about Grandma and Grandpa? Have they told any stories of miracles?”
“I can’t really remember anything,” said his mother. She was really hoping this topic would go away. “Maybe you should try some other topic, like whether we should plant flowers along the street. People are arguing about that.”
“I want to write about miracles. It’s obvious we should plant flowers.” He paused. “So are there a lot of miracles that happen to other people?”
“Well, there are miracles in the Bible. There’s one about the sun standing still so people could win a battle. Then there’s the story of Jesus rising from the dead. We celebrate that every Easter.”
“OK, but none that happen to people like me, right?”
“I can’t really think of any right now. Miracles happen to people who are especially close to God. That’s why we have Bible stories about them. They were closer to God than other people. They were his special servants and worked hard for him and faced persecution.” She paused. “Write about something else. I don’t think you’re going to get very far with this one.”
“OK,” said Jimmy, and headed back toward his room.
The next day Jimmy’s mom found the copy of his essay. He had written about miracles.
Miracles are impossible things that still happen sometimes. Nobody alive has actually seen one happen, but we still believe that they happened a long time ago.
In old times, there were people who would work and work all their lives and get very close to God. They would learn all about God and do many important things for him. They were special people. These special people could do totally impossible things, because if you work hard and get close to God you will be able to do impossible things.
But you have to be really, really old too, because God doesn’t let people who aren’t old do miracles. They can’t do impossible things because they aren’t close enough to God yet and they haven’t worked hard enough. You also get miracles points if people try to kill you. God likes that a lot.
But you won’t see miracles now. They haven’t happened for years and years, at least since before my grandpa was born.
I wonder where he got all that, thought Jimmy’s mom.
Give ear, O my people, to my teaching; incline your ears to the words of my mouth. I will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings from of old, things that we have heard and known, that our ancestors have told us. We will not hide them from their children; we will tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might, and the wonders that he has done.
“But I support neither plan,” said Earl. His voice was quiet, but firm.
“But you have to!” The chairman, Gerald, sounded exasperated. “We all know you don’t like to argue, but you have to support one plan or the other. That’s how we decided to do this.”
“But I don’t. I don’t want either of these plans. Neither of them will work.” Earl didn’t raise his voice. It remained steady. Several of the men in the room assumed this meant that he wasn’t firm. Their approach was to raise their voices in order to sound more determined.
“We have a tie vote,” said Gerald again. “That gives you a duty to cast the deciding vote.”
“I vote ‘no’,” Earl stated to a round of angry voices from the room.
“The problem,” said Manfred in a louder voice, “is that you don’t have the courage of your convictions. You aren’t willing to be counted on either side. You don’t want to have to explain your choice to your opponents. What you’re missing is that both sides are going to be going after you for being so wishy-washy, for not taking a stand!”
“The problem,” Earl replied in the same tone, “is not that I don’t have the courage of my convictions, it’s that I don’t have the courage of yours. I do not support either plan.”
“But surely you can decide that one plan is better than the either. Show some courage! Make a choice!” Gerald was sounding a bit desperate.
“This controversy has been tearing our church apart for months now. How much money should we spend on facilities for the youth? How much on caring for the elderly? How much on outreach? It has been hard to pray or meditate anywhere in the church, because someone is always advocating for some part of one plan or the other.
“You say that I don’t have the courage of my convictions. I’m standing for my convictions right now. I have tried to say these things before, but I have been ignored. The assumption has always been that we’d either go with a more traditional view of ministry in our church, or with a more modern, forward-looking ministry.
“But I’m wondering what God wants. I’m wondering what mission we’re pursuing with either of these plans. Both plans maintain the grounds and the building. Both plans take care of social needs, proportioned for different groups of people, but still largely social.
“I have tried to say this gently. I came here assuming I wouldn’t get the opportunity, but God has provided me the opportunity with this deadlock.
“I don’t see God in either plan. I have heard prayers, all asking God to bless what we planned. What I ave not seen was any effort to understand and plan for a mission for the church. These plans look inward. They focus differently, but they look inward.
“Even more importantly, each plan ignores the needs of the advocates of the other. You’re all looking to beat the other side and get your vision of the church implemented. You’ve said anyone who disagrees can just get with the program or leave.
“I would only vote for a plan if it was one that considered everyone’s needs, everyone’s desires, and then took these to the Lord to see what we should do to honor God. Then I would vote for a plan.
“You may think I should have said more earlier, but none of you were listening. I did say these things, but you just assumed I’d go along. And that’s how it would have worked out. But God gave me the gift of a tie vote. I consider it a miracle.
“Now you all have an opportunity to look at these factions in the body and decide to be one Body of Christ, serving God in this neighborhood. I’ll vote for such a plan. But it won’t matter. If you find such a plan you’ll hardly need to hold a meeting to decide. You can just hold a praise meeting thanking God for his gift of vision!”
“You’re just a faction of one! You’re trying to destroy the church!” Gerald shouted. He pounded his fist on the table since he didn’t have a gavel.
“I wonder if it might work,” said Ruth, one of the active servants in the congregation. She didn’t manage to get anything more out before chaos broke out, and nobody could hear.
I’m making two earlier Christmas stories from this blog sticky and linking them here. I may manage to write a new Christmas story, but these two have been on my mind today.
There are at least two ways of going off the rails with charity. One is becoming a scrooge–a stick in the mud, miserable person who can’t celebrate. The other is to become so charitable that you miss important things at home.
How Scrooge Got It All Wrong tells a different story of Scrooge than you’re used to, but one that leads more logically to the way Christmas is celebrated today.
Not a Christmas Carol tells the story of a woman who is so charitable she doesn’t have time for her daughter’s needs.
“I don’t see where I have anything to be thankful for,” said the 95 year old man grumpily as he trimmed roses in the garden of his suburban home, and looked across the yard at his wife.
As the committee meeting started to wind up, the chairman, Randall Cummings, a true elder in the church, turned to the young visitor and said, “Well, you haven’t commented very much. I take it you think these are good ideas or you would have told us.”
Virgil Moore had just turned 21, and was visiting his home church from college. He raised his eyebrows just a bit. But before he could start talking, the chairman continued.
“I’m glad you approve! People are complaining that we aren’t reaching the young people, so having you at this meeting is valuable, even if you didn’t have much to add.”
“Well,” said Virgil quickly, before the chairman could roll on. “I don’t think I’ve given you good reason to assume I approve.”
“You didn’t speak up about the critical proposals. In a meeting like this, silence means consent. You need to learn that before you leave college and enter the real world of business.”
“I wonder,” mused Virgil, “if you actually wanted my opinions. It didn’t appear so in the meeting.”
“I gave you every opportunity to speak up. If you had something to say, you should have said it.” His tone was growing sharper by the minute. He was a big fish in the small, local pond. He was used to people accepting what he said because of his reputation and authority.
“No, you didn’t.”
The short statement, spoken quietly but firmly, nonetheless exploded into the room. Pastor Jack (Brown, if anyone wanted his last name) looked mildly surprised, and for the first time in the meeting, almost awake. He was in his late fifties, but looked perhaps a dozen years older. He had said less than Virgil in the meeting.
Miss Joyce Summers
The Committee
Next to him was the youth pastor, known as Pastor Jerry, who hoped to be promoted out of that unimportant position to be a “real pastor.” He had validated a number of statements from the chair. It was well known that he hoped for favorable references from the worship chair and his colleagues, and he wasn’t all that subtle about it. Cummings simply accepted this affirmation as no less than his due.
Mrs. Jameson
Mrs. Sandra Jameson, who, unlike Miss Joyce, was known by “Mrs.” (never Ms.) and her last name, looked both shocked and outraged. Her picture at that moment could have been used as an illustration for definitions of those words. No caption would have been necessary. Maybe even no words!
Miss Joyce (last name Summers, but most had forgotten) was a fixture of the church and had been for decades. She took care of all the things that were rarely noticed, such as the altar vestments, and details of church cleaning and even some maintenance. Today, she’d come in for some serious criticism for having the wrong color of vestments one week in the past quarter, and had been admonished to be more careful. “Faithful in the small things,” Cummings had intoned in what he thought was an authoritative voice, but which was more condescending.
Then there was Mindy Andrews. Mindy was 15 years old, though she tended to look younger, and had been put on this committee because “we should give the youth a chance to learn.” She had attended this meeting, her second of the year, because Virgil would be there as a visitor. Her first committee had not gone well. This one had not gone well either. Her expression was one of interest. She had hoped Virgil would say something.
The silence in the room lasted about as long as it likely took you to read the descriptions.
Cummings Is Challenged
“I could whip your butt! Show some respect!” Cummings was trying to put on the “in charge” manner that had helped him dominate many business meetings, but the sense of outrage diminished the effect. In addition, Virgil Moore didn’t appear impressed.
“No, you couldn’t. And respect is a two-way street.” Virgil still spoke softly, but there was no uncertainty in his tone.
“Sir,” said Cummings. Nobody imagined he was addressing Virgil as sir.
Virgil just raised his eyebrows and looked Cummings straight in the eyes.
“You will address me as ‘sir’,” Cummings stated, raising his voice.
Virgil simply kept looking him right in the eyes.
“Well,” said Cummings after a moment, “I have no interest in hearing the opinions of a disrespectful, spoiled, entitled young pup.” He broke eye contact with Virgil and said, “I’ll entertain a motion to adjourn.”
“I move that we adjourn,” said Mrs. Jameson promptly.
“Do I hear a second?”
Pastor Jerry
“Second,” said Pastor Jerry.
“We have a second,” Cummings began, but he was interrupted, to everyone’s surprise, by Pastor Jack.
“No, you don’t,” he said.
“What do you mean?” asked Cummings.
“As you pointed out to me when I started bringing him here, Pastor Jerry is not actually a voting member of the committee. Neither am I.”
Pastor Jack Brown
“Oh,” said Cummings, taken aback. He hadn’t thought anyone would remember that. “Well, then, we need a second.” He remembered that he had told the pastor in no uncertain terms that pastoral staff did not have a voting position on church committees either, and decided quickly that if the pastor remembered that with regard to the youth pastor he doubtless remembered it for himself as well.
He looked at Miss Joyce. She looked back at him. He couldn’t be certain she knew what he wanted, but it would be very awkward to actually suggest it, and even worse if it turned out she didn’t want to do it. So he turned to Mindy.
She looked back at him with a steady and innocent expression.
“I need a second for Mrs. Jameson’s motion. You’re a voting member.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mindy.
“You say, ‘I second the motion,’” said Cummings.
“But I don’t second the motion, sir.”
“You have to.”
“No, she doesn’t,” said Pastor Jack. “She’s a voting member. She has to vote according to her conscience.” He turned to Mindy. “Do you want the meeting to adjourn?”
Mindy
“No, sir. I’d like to hear what Virgil has to say.”
Pastor Jack looked back at Cummings with an expression that said, “Well?” louder than his voice could have.
Cummings had to make a quick decision. If he kept trying to fight he’d look weak. The best thing to do was to bow graciously to the committee’s will. Well, bow at least.
He looked at Virgil. “Well, despite your disrespectful tone, it appears the committee wants to hear you. Like everyone else, I have to follow the rules. It’s something you should learn.”
Virgil was actually amused. He had long been aware of how Cummings and his network ran the church. Rules were there to keep everyone under control. He wasn’t surprised by the tactics. He was surprised that the pastor had torpedoed them. He had thought the important members had the pastor under control. He was even more surprised that Mindy Andrews had had the guts to stand up to the chairman.
Virgil Explains
“What decision of the committee today do you disagree with?” Cummings spoke again.
“The problem is identifying any actual decision the committee has made. You indicated when you invited me that you had a problem with reduced attendance by young people and that you’d like my thoughts. But I don’t see any decision taken that would address that issue. The small number of decisions made did not even require a vote of the committee.”
Cummings was about to speak. He looked angry. Pastor Jack interrupted. “I’d like to hear what you think about our problem with diminishing youth and young adult attendance and an aging congregation.”
“We do not have an aging congregation,” said Cummings, raising his voice.
“The facts are against you,” said Virgil.
“What facts?” asked Cummings.
“The ones in this report you provided to the committee.”
“Those are just statistics. There are lies, damned lies, and statistics,” said Cummings, smiling. He had won with that line so many times. Everyone laughed and dropped citing statistics because either they didn’t know how to answer him or they knew it would do no good. That made him confident.
“So let me ask you this. Is the church’s management software state of the art?”
“Of course it is! Only the best for God’s church!”
“Is the data properly maintained?” This was a booby trap. Cummings’ wife maintained the data and everyone knew she demanded perfection. She had been known to take her own attendance count and question the official count if it differed.
“You know it is,” growled Cummings.
“So we have a report produced by what I know is not only state of the art software, but is the best in the industry, based on data that has been maintained to the highest standards possible–you didn’t say it, but I’m going to add it, Mrs. Cummings is unparalleled in her data maintenance–and yet you’ll imply that the contents of the report are to be seen as less valuable than ‘damn lies’?”
“Data is easily manipulated,” said Cummings.
“So as I cite this data, you can point out in what way I’m manipulating the data in this report.” He paused a moment. “According to this report, your membership has dropped nearly 30% in the last four years.” As Cummings opened his mouth, Virgil raised his hand and plowed forward. “Your youth group had a regular attendance that averaged about 30 four years ago, but now that average is about 10. The average age of the congregation increased about two years for every year, and is now just short of eight years older than it was four years ago.”
“Did you figure out all of those numbers on the fly? I question your calculations.” Cummings was again using a well-worn way of shutting things down.
“Turn to page 3 of the report,” said Virgil, “and look at the chart starting 10 lines down the page. This lists the membership figures and the percentage of change for the period of the report.” Virgil noted that everyone was looking at their report. So did Cummings. Cummings wasn’t happy.
Virgil continued through the report, citing line by line the sources of the information he had cited. When he was done, nobody in the room had failed to see those numbers. The pastor knew them instinctively, but he’d never seen them outlined so clearly. It was the picture of a dying church. The positive note was that there were churches in town that were dying faster.
“Well, numbers don’t tell the whole story,” said Cummings. “Sometimes we’re called on to fight the culture for God. Other churches may be doing better, but they’re compromising with the world while we’re standing up for God and for Truth.” Everyone heard the capital ‘T’ on Truth.
“I visited with the head elder of the Community Church downtown and I also saw their numbers. They don’t have these problems. In fact, they’re growing rapidly. The church I attend at college is not growing that fast, but that’s because it has created three new church plants in the three years I have been there.”
Compromising on Truth
“I stand by what I said. Churches that refuse to compromise on Truth will suffer in numbers.”
“I’m a facts person,” said Virgil. “Please tell me which ‘Truth’ Community Church has compromised on.”
“How should I know? Those big city churches with their guitars and drums and light shows are always compromising with the culture.” Cummings spoke dismissively, as though stating the obvious.
“Could you support from scripture the idea that ‘guitars and drums and light shows’ compromise the gospel in any way, please?”
“I’m not going to get into a theological discussion with you. This is a worship meeting, not a theological debate.”
“But you’re concerned with diminishing church attendance. Do you think what we believe about God has no impact on that?”
Mindy Has Some Thoughts
Time for diversion, thought Cummings. “Mindy, Virgil here thinks I kept you from commenting during the meeting. I didn’t. You know that, don’t you?”
“Actually,” said Mindy.
Cummings cut her off. “See,” he said, looking at Virgil. “She doesn’t agree with you on how I manage the meeting.”
“Actually,” said Mindy again, “I do agree with Virgil. In fact, you just did it. You cut me off in the middle of a sentence, and then finish it up as though I agree with you.”
“I’m just helping you get your thoughts into words.” This time Cummings looked genuinely surprised and aggrieved.
“But you don’t know what my thoughts are!” Mindy exclaimed. It was noticeable. She was normally very quiet and polite. Everyone was surprised, even Virgil. Pastor Jerry was stunned.
“Mindy,” said Pastor Jack, “Tell us what you think is wrong with this church that we’re losing members, especially younger ones.”
“I like this church …”
Cummings cut her off. “See? You’re making stuff up. She likes the church!”
“Randall!” Pastor Jack raised his voice. It had been at least a decade since anyone had heard him do that.
Cummings was stunned into silent.
“I was saying,” Mindy continued, “that I like this church. I like this building. I like lots of people here. It’s getting hard to enjoy the services and the youth activities. There’s nothing substantial. I’ve been thinking of not coming here to church any more.”
“So you’re complaining, but you don’t have anything substantial behind your complaints?” Cummings had a “gotcha” expression on his face.
“No, sir, that’s not what I said. My complaint is that there is nothing substantial. Three years ago when I did confirmation classes with Pastor Jack, I got excited about Jesus and about the church. I thought there were things there that I could really believe, that I could make something out of, and live my life so that it would make a difference.”
She paused, looking back and forth between Cummings, Pastor Jack, and Pastor Jerry. It seemed she was making a decision.
“But since that time, it’s like someone let the air out of a balloon. Pastor Jerry does lots of fun things with the young people, but nothing important, ever.”
Laughing at Your Elders
“You shouldn’t criticize your youth pastor that way. You’re too young!” Cummings took on the look and tone of someone on such solid ground as to unassailable. “I’m going to talk to your father next time I see him and tell him he needs to teach you to respect your pastor.”
Mindy started laughing.
Virgil, Miss Summers, and Pastor Jack were looking at Mindy with some interest. Pastor Jerry and Cummings were looking stunned. Cummings was moving his mouth, but no sound came out.
“Why is she laughing?” Cummings asked, looking at Pastor Jack.
“Think about it,” he replied.
“I am thinking about it. It’s rude! It’s disrespectful! You should stop her!”
“I think expecting her not to laugh would be unreasonable.”
“I don’t see why!”
“You mean you aren’t aware that Mindy’s parents quit attending? That they haven’t been here for months, and that Mindy attends alone? She rides the bus to get to church. I don’t know how she persuaded her dad to allow it, but she does.”
Cummings was stunned again.
“And you wonder why the church is losing members,” said Virgil quietly, breaking the stunned silence.
“That’s not the only reason,” said Mindy. This time people turned to her attentively. “Pastor Jack, when was the last time you preached a sermon on salvation by grace through faith?”
“You don’t even know what that means,” said Cummings, in a voice just short of a yell.
“It means we’re saved by God’s grace, given through Jesus, and received by faith. We’re not saved by what we do. Not by works”
“You aren’t teaching the young people that! They’ll think they can go out and do anything! It’s good for a young person to feel a bit of the flames of hell. Keeps ’em straight!” exclaimed Cummings, looking at Pastor Jack.
What Pastor Jack Was Called to Do
“I did. It’s what I believe. And it’s the best way I know to keep them straight.”
“Then why did you quit preaching it?” asked Mindy.
Pastor Jack looked straight at Cummings. “I stopped because you told me to. You said my preaching was too soft. You said I needed to preach more about sins and hell.”
“But you aren’t doing that!” It was Mindy’s turn to exclaim. “Well, except once. You preached about what a sin it was that we treated homeless people so poorly in this city. I don’t recall anything since.”
Pastor Jack was still looking at Cummings. “You told me to stop that as well.”
“I wanted you to preach about homosexuality, premarital sex, disrespect for elders, and other things that are destroying our society.”
“You did. But you see, I don’t know how to preach about all those things without also preaching about Jesus. If I preach about sin, I also have to preach about forgiveness, redemption, and divine healing. But I didn’t. I started preaching empty sermons.”
There was complete silence. Nobody knew what to say.
“God help me, I gave in, and quit preaching the gospel, the one thing I was called to do. I did it to keep my pension. I’m too old to find another pulpit.”
There was another awkward silence.
Pastor Jerry Gets a Job Offer
Then years of business experience came to the rescue of Chairman Randall Cummings.
“Pastor Jerry,” he said, “I think it’s time we promote you to senior pastor and get rid of this has-been. We need a real pastor.”
“Amen,” said Mrs. Jameson.
But Pastor Jerry just sat there.
“Come on,” said Cummings looking at Pastor Jerry. “I’m a church trustee. I have the keys. The decision of the elders is just an afterthought. You’re as good as Senior Pastor right now.”
“I don’t think so,” said Pastor Jerry slowly. “I too was called to preach the gospel. And I gave it up to pursue a career. You’ll have to find someone else.”
Locking the Building
Cummings had regained his decisive edge. He looked at the clock. “I’m locking the building at 10 o’clock, and won’t be opening it again until after we’ve chosen a new pastor, at least an interim.”
He stalked out of the room, and Mrs. Jameson followed.
Those left in the room looked at one another. “What do we do now?” asked Pastor Jerry.
Questions for Thought and Discussion
Are you fired up about anything? About the gospel?
Are the two pastors up for a fight?
Are there others in the church who will back them up?
What should they do?
Some Books to Help You Get Your Church on Track
(Graphics created with Adobe Express with Generative AI and some stock imagery.)
It all started rather innocently. Or so it would have seemed to those involved. Nobody intended to hurt anyone else. It started during the special collection for the needy taken up early in Advent in order to buy needed supplies to distribute just before Christmas
Fred Lewis, senior saint and fixture in the small town and its largest church, was putting a $50 bill into the offering plate. He pitied those who couldn’t get what they needed at Christmas. Unfortunately, he was getting slower as he aged, and a little less precise with his fingers, and he pulled a receipt out of his wallet along with the bill. He didn’t notice until he had dropped both the money and the receipt into the offering plate.
Now he might have just suffered the embarrassment of having to look for the receipt later, but it was an important one. He intended to return a tool that he felt had not lived up to its advertised quality to the hardware store, and he knew the owner and the manager would insist on a receipt. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was the principle that mattered. They would give him his money back!
So he reached back into the offering plate and grabbed the receipt. Fortune again did not favor him, as he grabbed not only the receipt, but his $50 bill, and a couple of others as well. He fumbled to get the money back into the offering plate and to keep the receipt, and finally, having accomplished his goal, passed the plate along with a self-deprecating apology.
It might have stopped at that, but …
At dinner that evening, Elfrieda, who was a widow, and a center of social activity for the church, and who had been sitting just down the row from these events told the story at the church social to gales of laughter. She did not intend to imply that any money had been actually taken from the plate, much less that such a pillar of the community as Fred Lewis might have taken it. But it so enhanced to story to end it with: “Who knows where all the money ended up?”
In the normal course of small-town gossip, the whole thing might have ended right there, but Elfrieda had told the story so well, and so many people whose fingers were not nearly as old managed to repeat the story. As stories will, it got edited. By the middle of the week the town barber was heard telling the man whose hair he was trimming that he (the barber) had heard that Fred Lewis had taken $50 from the offering plate. He assured the man that this couldn’t possibly be true and that he had just heard it, but wasn’t it funny how such things got around.
Wednesday night, Fred Lewis didn’t show up for the study in the church. Fred always attended that study. People wondered if he was not feeling well. Nobody thought of the story going around because, of course, nobody believed the story. Or nobody admitted they did.
Joyce, head of Caring Ministries for the church, started to go check on Fred, but as she was heading that way she recalled hearing that he might have taken money from the offering plate. If he was in great need, she could forgive him, she thought, but she wasn’t ready for the conversation. So she skipped that visit and headed on out to visit some shut-ins.
What had actually happened was that Fred had found himself in difficulty sorting out his medication, and after several tries and repeated checking had finally taken the pills he thought he should. He ended up with an overdose of one medication and none at all of some others. It might not have been fatal, but his heart was giving him some trouble, and those were precisely the wrong medications.
As Joyce walked by on the other side of the street, Fed Lewis was unconscious in his living room recliner. Of course, nobody suspected that.
It was Friday afternoon when the new doctor in town, notified by his office nurse that Fred was not there for the appointment he’d asked for on Wednesday, decided to go check. You might think it odd that a doctor went to check on a patient personally, but this young doctor had come to the small town to practice old-fashioned medicine. He’d been burned out in his residency. He’d almost given up medicine altogether but had been attracted to the idea of the simplicity of being a small-town doctor. So he checked on his patient and found him dead.
The young doctor did everything right. He called the police. He suggested the possibility of the mixup with the medications. The county coroner ruled it (correctly) as death due to an accidental overdose.
Then somebody, nobody ever remembered who, wondered out loud whether the overdoes had, in fact, been accidental. Perhaps Fred Lewis had heard the things that were being said about him taking money from the offering plate. For a man of his character it might just have been too much. People dismissed this as ridiculous. But it was said and dismissed in furtive tones over and over again.
Then someone mentioned that they thought they remembered that the doctor was sitting next to Fred Lewis in church. Who was more likely to be the source of the story? Perhaps the doctor, rather than being the self-sacrificing hero who had come to provide good medical care to the small town was actually the cause of Fred Lewis’s distress. It didn’t matter that there was no evidence that Fred Lewis had ever heard the rumor, but nobody thought of that.
If it was possible that the doctor had started the rumor, then perhaps he had contrived to cover up evidence of a suicide so he wouldn’t be blamed for the vicious, even pernicious rumor that had made the fine old man decide he didn’t want to face life any more. Any number of people said that this story was also ridiculous, but that didn’t stop people from spreading it.
When the young doctor was found dead in the woods near a hiking trail, everyone in town assumed it was suicide. “He knew he had killed Fred Lewis by the rumor he started,” said several pillars of the town’s society knowingly. Nobody took note of the coroner’s report that said the young man had hit his head on a sharp rock, knocked himself out and then bled to death.
As the story spread through the town the consensus was that modern decadent culture just didn’t prepare people for real life. If the doctor had had any guts at all, he would have owned up to his responsibility, faced the music, and moved on.
What a vast amount of timber can be set ablaze by the tiniest spark! 6 And the tongue is a fire …
The Revised English Bible. (1996). (Jas 3:5–6). Cambridge; New York; Melbourne; Madrid; Cape Town; Singapore; São Paulo; Delhi; Dubai; Tokyo: Cambridge University Press.
Image credit: Adobe Stock pathdoc Not public domain
