Questing Parson

The Right Choice

The parson and Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, were resting. The parson sat on a rock with his back against a larger one. Charlie Brown was sprawled on the ground beside him working on a chewy while the parson munched on an apple. Wadded up beside the parson was the bag that only a few moments ago had contained a sandwich and some dry dog food.

The parson finished the apple just about the time Charlie Brown looked up as if to say, “Anything else?” He stuffed the crumbled bag and the empty water bottle into the small back pack beside him. He stood at which Charlie Brown also rose with an audible moan. The parson threw the apple core over the edge of the canyon on along which rim the two had been hiking.

The parson hadn't moved fifty yards beyond his lunch site when he saw one of the younger pastors of his area hiking toward him. The parson called out a greeting and the pair stopped, seemingly grateful for the break in their trek.

“Parson, what in the world are you doing here?” asked Robert the young pastor. “Hello, Charlie Brown,” he greeted as he knelt down to pat Charlie and pull his ears. Charlie Brown promptly sat in eager anticipation of attention.

“Just trying to stay in shape,” the parson said. “It takes a bit more effort at my age. How are you doing, Carole?” the parson asked. Carole and Robert had been married a little over two years. She was a talented writer who'd published a few fiction books under a pseudonym. The parson was one of her biggest fans, and probably the biggest in the clergy ranks as Carole didn't reveal her true occupation to many in the ministry.

“Really good, Parson. Really good. It's nice to see you again.”

Before the parson could reply, Robert asked, “Do you come up here often? This is a bit from home.”

“Oh I try to hike in one of the state parks at least once a week, Robert. It keeps the batteries recharged.”

I really wish I could do that, Parson. I don't know how you get the time.”

“I don't get the time, Robert,” the parson replied. “I make the time.”

“Thank you, Parson,” said Carole. “Are you listening to him, Robert?”

The parson picked up on a tone that indicated this hike might have been a grudging concession by Robert.

“I suspect the Parson doesn't have the pressures I have, Carole,” said Robert. “No offense, Parson, but you are serving a smaller church since your retirement.”

“Serving your church takes more time than serving mine?” the parson asked.

“Ah, Parson, I didn't mean anything by that. I know you work hard. But this appointment I have just eats up every hour in the day.”

“How so?” asked the parson.

Carole had now moved away from the parson and Robert taking Charlie Brown with her. Charlie Brown seemed to prefer her scratching and ear pulling abilities much more than Robert.

“Look, Parson, there's not only the sermons to prepare, the sick to visit, other pastoral calls, but I have to make the bulletins every week. I have to prepare all the media for the praise songs. I lead the choir practice. There's just a never ending list.”

“Who did the bulletins before you got there?” the parson asked.

“Well, a woman named Ellen Hanson did. But she seemed really relieved when I took over that for her.”

“Who led the choir before you got there?”

“Okay, Parson, I see where this is going. Look, they found out I knew a little about music and let me do it.”

“Who's going to do the bulletins when you leave?”

“Okay, I get it.”

“Who's going to lead the choir when you leave?”

Robert started to say something. The parson held up his hand. “Listen, Robert, a very, very long time ago on the day I was leaving to go to my first church, my daddy gave me the best advice I've ever received. He said to me, 'Son, you will be a success if, when you leave that church, those people say: Look what we did.'”

The parson looked down at Carole. He made a sucking sound with his lips. Charlie Brown immediately came to his side.

“When's the next novel coming out?” the parson asked.

“June,” she said.

“Same heroine?”

“Same one. Look, Parson, don't buy one this time. Let me give you one with an inscription.”

“I'll treasure that, Carole,” the parson said as the two hugged.

During the hug Carole whispered in his ear, "Thank you."

Carole leaned over to say good-bye to Charlie Brown. As she did the parson grabbed Robert's arm, pulled him a step away and said in a quiet voice, “Listen to me, Robert. Whenever you have a choice of doing the damn bulletin or taking a nap with Carole, you take a nap.”

Sharing the Joys of Ministry

“Ring, ring!”

“Hello.”

“That wasn't funny, Parson.”

“I'm sorry,” said the parson, “who is this?” The parson was smiling to himself. He knew who it was.

“That is Bart,” the voice intoned. “And you know good and well who it is.”

“Oh, Bart,” the parson said with a welcoming tone in his voice. “I didn't recognize your voice. Good to hear from you. What's up?”

“What's up? What's up? I suppose you wouldn't know anything about a woman named Florence trying to borrow money from me?”

“Florence? Florence? Wait a second. Is she about fifty, a little on the heavy side, drives a old blue Ford F-150, wearing some clothes that look like they may have last been laundered sometime around 1998? That Florence?”

“Funny, funny. Yeah, that Florence?”

“Yes, I know Florence.”

“And would you want to confess that you sent her down here to my church to ask me for twenty dollars?”

Florence had been at Ms. Parson's Soup Kitchen the night before. She needed forty dollars, she told the parson, to get the brakes fixed on her pickup truck. What Florence didn't know was that the parson knew Henry Snyder, a member of the church had given her twenty dollars toward that end about twenty minutes earlier. The parson, then, had agreed to give her twenty. Despite her protestations the parson refused to give her any additional money. Florence also didn't know that the parson knew her SSI check would arrive in two days.

“No, Bart, I will not confess that I sent her down to your church to ask for twenty dollars. But I did mention to her that I'd seen her truck down your way on several occasions. I asked her if she visited any other churches in that area to accumulate money for fixing her brakes, paying her rent, getting her pet cat fixed, or any other reoccurring events that require financial assistance. And she told me she went to a lot of churches. I asked her, since she lives a little piece form your church, if she ever visited you. She said she didn't. She said she didn't visit you because you were only there on Sunday.”

“Funny, funny, Parson,” said Bart. “According to her you said she should tell me to park my ass in the church office at 8:00 a.m. Every day.”

There was a long pause.

“Are you there, Parson?”

“I am, Bart.”

“Do you have anything to say?”

“Well, it appears your original accusation was incorrect. I didn't tell her to ask you for twenty dollars.”

“But you did make the remark about parking my ass in my office at 8:00 a.m.?”

“Well, to be honest, I may have said something like that.”

“And why is it so important to you what my office hours are.”

“It's important to me, Bart, because we're a connectional church, and, as such, you should be sharing in this ministry to Florence.”

“Good-bye, Parson.”

“Good-bye, Bart. By the way, are you calling from your office?”

Click.

The Corner of LaVista and Oak Grove

Not long ago I found myself in Banner Elk, North Carolina. It's a ski resort and the home of Lees McRae College, a school affiliated with the Presbyterian USA church. I've got to tell you, I don't know how those kids study being surrounded as they are by all the natural beauty of that mountain getaway.

While there I stopped, as any person seeking to fully experience the local customs would, at the Mast General Store. They should have a sign out front reading, “If we don't have it you don't need it.” What a place. It's like stepping back a century. Oh my glory, did I say stepping back a century? It's like stepping back into my childhood and Cheek's Store up the street from my house.

I was familiar with the location of every item in Cheek's Store. I was familiar because at least four times a week my mother would make me walk to the store to pick up some kitchen supplies for her. I'll never forget the day she sent me to get some corn meal. Mr. Pounds, the owner and my Sunday School teacher, sold me the corn meal. I took it home, handed it to my mother. It wasn't ten minutes before she called me and told me to take it back to show him the worm crawling around in the bag. I did. He told me to take it home and tell my mother he didn't charge her for the worm. I did. My mother told me to watch my brother and headed to the store herself.

You know, near the corner of LaVista and Oak Grove Roads was a good place to grow up. Gracious, when you consider that the walk to Cheek's Store passed beside Mr. Davis' orchards of fruits tempting a young boy known for sneaking out of the house late at night, it was a lot like a Biblical garden.

Bob Middlebrooks had a garage across the street from Cheek's Store. Bob couldn't read or write. But if it was broken and it was an internal combustion engine or if it was a car whose body needed fixing Bob Middlebrooks could handle it. I'll never forget that day I told my little brother he could back the car out of the carport. He did a great job except for the fact the driver's door he was holding open met the support pole of the carport and was jammed so hard it wouldn't close.

My brother panicked. I didn't. I calmly drove the car, open door and all, up to Bob Middlebrooks. I told him, without telling a lie, “Mr. Middlebrooks, my dad needs to get this door fixed.” Pretty good choice of wording; don't you think? Bob Middlebrooks walked back into his garage. He returned with a rubber headed mallet. He placed the head between the door and the frame of the car. He then slammed the door as hard as he could, popping it back into place.

I nodded my head in amazement, wondering why I didn't think of that. “How much does my Daddy owe you?” I asked him. “Not one red cent,” he said. “But you owe me five dollars to keep my mouth shut.” It was the best five dollars I ever spent.

Well, sorry to wax so nostalgic, but the world lost a lot when it lost that little country store and neighborhood garage.

A Farmville Church Sermon

The Promise of Hope

Genesis 9: 8-17

 

There’s a wonderful story about a man who once tricked a leprechaun into telling him where his valuables were hidden. The valuables were in a field, buried under a bush, under a bush that looked like every other of another hundred bushes in the field. The man needed a shovel in order to dig up the treasures. He took a red ribbon and tied it around a limb of the bush so he’d know where to dig when he returned. He got the leprechaun to promise not to remove the ribbon. The leprechaun did and off the man ran. He returned shortly with his shovel and stood looking at the field in amazement. Every bush now had a red ribbon attached to it.

They say it’s because of leprechauns you can never find the pot at the end of the rainbow. But, even so, we’d do well in life if we are constantly looking for rainbows.

The scripture this morning is the end of that great mythological story of Noah and the ark. Noah’s been afloat with all the animals for forty days and forty nights. The ark has come to rest. And now comes the most important aspect of the story. The most important part of the story lies in God’s promise to Noah, to put the rainbow in the sky as a sign of God’s promise to remember the covenant between God and all God’s creatures.

Today is the first Sunday in Lent. This is the season of preparation in which we move toward that fateful final week of Christ’s life, of his death and his resurrection. How appropriate that today’s Old Testament lesson is on this Sunday. The rainbow and the death and resurrection of the Christ are both messages to us that God does not seek to condemn us for our failures; God seeks to save us from our sin.

The last few weeks I’ve found myself reading and watching documentaries about our recent Presidents. Do you remember Bill Clinton’s acceptance speech when he was nominated for his second term? He paid homage to that small town in Arkansas where he was born as he ended the speech, “I’ll always believe,” he said, “in a place called ‘Hope.’”

Each of us can believe in a place called Hope. We can believe it when we see the rainbow. We can believe it when we remember Christ’s sacrifice Bill Clinton, I’ve learned, was a man conflicting desires. He sought the best in himself and yet when he seemingly rose to the heights of greatness he betrayed his better self and those who had placed faith in him and his leadership.

When I was in the service I found myself in a group assigned to Lyndon ; Johnson for a day. You know, I never understood what folks meant when they spoke of charismatic people until that day. There was something about that man, an energy, a confidence, a magnetic quality. And then he got caught up in the Vietnam War, and toppled from his greatness because of his inability to let go lest he be seen as weak.

As I’ve been reading about great men, from Clinton, to Johnson, to Bush, to King David, I’m struck with how similar they are to me, and you. We are all filled with potential, with possibilities, and are all children of the covenant. But we all fail; we fall short; we topple ourselves from the heights on which we were intended to live.

I hope I’m not the only one here who feels that way. I hope I’m not the only one here who fervently desires to serve my God by doing the right thing but time after time relegates God to a secondary position. I hope I’m not the only one here who day after day vows to treat my neighbor as my Lord has commanded and then looks the other way at suffering of others and the abuse of God’s children. Please tell me I’m not the only one. Please tell me you, too, have betrayed God’s goodness. Please tell me I am not the only one who has fallen over and over and over.

I find hope in this story of Noah, hope for my future, hope for my salvation. For that’s what this story is. It is a story of hope. It’s a story of rainbows on the horizon of my life and the horizon of your life.

It is with that hope, then, I can continue to go forward. It is with that hope I can continue to strive not to fail again. It is with that hope I can live as God wants me to live.

Dee Dee Myers, Bill Clinton’s press secretary said of him, “How many chances should you get?” And then she answered the question herself: “How many times have you failed?”

You and I are children of God so, in a real sense, every time we fail we have a chance to be redeemed because God is the God of the rainboow, of hope, of another chance.

How then do we repay God?

As I’ve been studying the lives of these Presidents I’ve noted that each of them had the gift of empathy. They, despite their elevated status, could identify with those who were suffering, in pain, deprived and abused. It was the reaching out to these people that made them attractive despite their other failings.  It was the acts of kindness that endeared them.

I’m never going to obtain greatness like that. Most of you in this room are not likely to become President. But each of us has that capacity for greatness that God desires. Each of us can do those things that recognize the hope that God has given us. We can do that by giving hope to others. Every time we see or think of God’s rainbow we can be reminded of the simple things we can do to acknowledge God’s promise of hope to us.

In the movie “Evan Almighty” God calls Evan, a United States Congressman to build an ark. It’s a move with one laugh after another. In the end a damn breaks and water comes coursing down the valley. But the people are saved when they run onto Evan’s ark. The movie ends with God and Evan talking under a tree about what has happened. In their conversation God reveals what people can do when remembering God’s promise .

 

Will you remember God’s promises to you this week by going out and performing acts of random kindness to your neighbors? And when you fail this week, when you fall, with you remember God’s promise, God’s rainbow, and get up and try again?

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Mother Dolores, Elvis' First On-Screen Kiss, To Appear at the Oscars!

It is an inspiring story. Dolores Hart, the "next Grace Kelly", as Hollywood, dubbed her, who was the first to kiss Elvis on-screen, decided to give her life in service to God as a cloistered nun. She's going to be at the Oscars as a result of an HBO documentary of her life. And you know what? It's still a love story. Watch the 20/20 interview below (all the way to the end):   Photo Credit: HBO

Something To Wash the Sandwich Down

The parson was headed out the door of the local establishment. He'd been replenishing his supplies. Charlie Brown was patiently waiting in the back seat of the car. The parson opened the trunk and placed the package inside.

As he closed the trunk the parson noticed Mike Houston, pastor of the Congregation of the Righteous Followers of the Striving to Be Redeemed Brethren of the Everlasting Sanctified Fellowship, pulling up to the side parking area of the store. The parson moved toward his driver's door, started to open it and, as he did so, noticed out of the corner of his eye that Mike has made a 180 degree turn and was headed across the street toward a sandwich shop. The parson also noted the sandwich shop was not open. It wouldn't be open for another half hour. And then he watched Mike, after pulling on the door, walk around the sandwich shop to whatever was in that field out behind it.

The parson smiled. He went back to the trunk. He removed one of the items from his shopping. He pulled out a card and wrote on the back of it, “Here's something to wash that sandwich down.” He carried both the card and item across the lot and placed them in the driver's seat of Mike's car.

Please Help Me Raise $25,000 For the North Georgia United Methodist Children's Home!

 The North Georgia United Methodist Children’s Home is a finalist in the Home Depot Foundation’s monthly contest! This contest awards a $25,000 dollar prize to the non-profit organization with the most Facebook votes. The Children’s Home will use the grant to build a playground for the youngest children there – you can help little ones who have been homeless and hungry have the freedom, joy and fun of a safe playground. Please vote every day until Feb 23 by clicking here:

 https://www.facebook.com/homedepotfoundation?sk=app_136044879800951

Only Custom Made Equipment for the Parson's Grandchildren

Ring! Ring!

“Hello.”

“Well, hello, yourself. How in the world are you doing?” I immediately recognized the voice. It belonged to one of the other grandparents, you know the type of grandparent of which I speak. It was the mother of my child’s spouse. She means well but in playing the role of really great grandparent some have it and some have less than it.

“I’m really doing well. How about you?”

“I’m doing good. You know it was such a treat to have the kids come visit from Connecticut. Gracious, I don’t know about you, but I don’t seem to realize how much I miss them until they are ready to go back. And those children, those precious grandkids, aren’t they absolutely wonderful?

“They are that. And that younger one sure got your looks.”

“My, my, aren’t you the complimentary one. And I know you’re being gracious, but thanks for making an old woman feel good.”

“It’s my pleasure,” I said.

At this point I was getting a little anxious as to what this phone call was about. Look, it may not be the best feature of our society, but the truth is the daughter’s mother doesn’t make phone calls to the husband’s father just for the purpose of swapping platitudes. And yet, like my son, I am a Southern gentleman. I let the conversation continue.

“Could you believe the way the younger one has grown?” she asked.

I informed her that I couldn’t believe it either. And then just to trump her I said, “Well, I think the older one is certainly proving himself to be smarter than his parents.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she responded.

There was a pause in the conversation. I definitely got the impression she was mulling over what to say next. I waited. As I’ve intimated above the conversations between the two of us have been sparse during the ten years of our children’s marriage. They were usually confined to coordination of who would pick up or take to the airport whom.

“The grandchildren really seemed to have had a great time at your house.” she said.

“I thought they did, too,” I responded. “They were nonstop the whole time they were here.”

“I know. It wasn’t ten minutes after you dropped them off at our house than they were sound asleep in the den. They really got worn out. You really keep them active.”

“I enjoy the time with them,” I said, wondering where this conversation was going.

There was a pause. Then she spoke again. “You know, the kids said you have the best slide they’ve ever been on.”

“Did they? That’s nice to know. They did seem to have a good time playing on it.”

“Do you mind my asking where you bought it?” she asked. Then she added, “I’d like to get one for our house.”

Now in this life some secrets need not be shared. “Actually, I can’t,” I said. “It was custom made for them.”

“You had a slide custom made for your grandchildren?”

“I did.”

There was another long pause before she said, “Well, I just wanted to thank you for dropping them off.”

I told her it was no problem. She hung up. I was grateful for the call. It reminded me to go out in the front yard and retrieve the cardboard box the kids had been using to slide down the bank that is my front yard.

It Couldn't Be Said Better

Bill Moyers Decodes the Campaign

Decoding the Campaigns from BillMoyers.com on Vimeo.