Questing Parson

Where Were You On Christmas Day?

“Well, hello to you, Parson. Hope your Christmas was as good as it could be.”

“It was, Frank; it was,” responded the parson to Frank Jerkins, a pastor at one of the larger churches a bit south of the parson. “Surprisingly, everything I got was something I really could use and everything fit.”

“That's good to hear, Parson. Good to hear. How was your attendance on Christmas Sunday?”

“It was better than average,” said the parson. “I don't know if it was just because of Christmas or whether the tornado that hit two days before, but folks seemed eager to be there on Christmas Sunday. How about your church?”

“Well, we didn't have church on Christmas Sunday, Parson. We got to thinking about it a few years back when Christmas fell on Sunday, and we decided that since Christmas was a family time we'd cancel services when Christmas fell on Sunday.”

The parson stared at Frank. Frank seemed to be waiting for the parson to speak. After a pregnant silence, the parson did speak. “You canceled your worship services because Christmas fell on Sunday and Christmas is a family time?”

“Yes, that's right. Folks seem to be real pleased with the decision.”

“You canceled your service because Christmas fell on Sunday and Christmas is family time?”

“Are you going to keep repeating that?” Frank asked.

“No, Frank, I'm not going to keep repeating it. I think I'm going over in that corner there and weep.”

“What's your problem, Parson?”

“I'm just curious, Frank, if Christmas is family time then what's your service, PG-13?”

“Oh, that's cute, Parson. You know good and well that when Christmas falls on Sunday the attendance is usually down and it's just impossible to compete with the distractions families face. And it is a time for the family to gather around the Christmas tree.”

The parson stared another silent moment. “Are you nuts?”

“No, Parson, I'm not nuts. I'm practical.”

“Well, I guess that makes me impractical, Frank. I was under the distinct impression that when Christmas fell on Sunday we had a really good opportunity to focus ourselves on the Child and celebrate Christmas as it should be.”

“There's no harm in canceling the services one Sunday, Parson.”

“Oh, but Frank, there is. You just gave a testimony to your people as to where your loyalties lie. You just said to your people that worship is not central, that the old lines of John, 'Prepare ye the way,' are irrelevant. And worse than that, Frank, if you want my opinion you just spit on your vows.”

“You know, Parson, to use one of your favorite expressions, sometimes you can be the north end of a southbound horse.”

The parson smiled, “You know what, Frank, I'm not going to deny that. But I'll tell you this: on Sunday, especially on Christmas Sunday, this southbound horse is going to make sure his ordained north end is behind his pulpit giving witness to who is Lord in his life.”

Frank walked away.

Feel Good Mystery

“Don't you look pretty today,” the parson said to Audrey, a ten-year-old he'd bumped into at the store. “That's a really nice dress.”

“Thanks, Parson,” she replied. “I got this dress for Christmas.”

Audrey's Mom smiled at the conversation and moved over to a section across the aisle.

“Well, we have to go to this fancy dress up thing. I don't know it is, but Mom and Dad said I have to go, and because it's dress up they gave me this dress early. Kinda funny, huh? I get an early Christmas present because I have to go to a Christmas party.”

“Pretty funny,” the parson responded.

“So, how's your brother.? He's not with you?”

“Nope, he's with Dad. They're getting haircuts.”

“Well, I hope you have fun at that fancy dress up thing. I bet you'll have the prettiest dress there.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Parson, can I ask you something?”

The parson leaned forward. “Sure.”

“All this stuff, you know, presents, dresses, parties, going to everybody's house, all that stuff. That's not about Christmas, is it?”

The parson smiled, “No, Audrey, that's not about Christmas; it's about people.”

“And people trying to make themselves feel good, right?”

“Right!” the parson said, grateful for a fresh insight.

“Know what I figured out?”

“What?”

“Parties and presents don't make you feel good.”

“I think you're right,” said the parson. “What does make you feel good?”

“Well, I'm not sure, but I think it's different for adults and children.”

The parson started to respond but Audrey's mother walked up.

“Hi, Parson, hope she wasn't bothering you.”

“Not at all,” the parson said. “We were just talking about some of life's strange mysteries.”

Living Nativity Questions

The day had been long. Darkness had long ago closed the door to the sky. Now the parson and his faithful canine companion, Charlie Brown, were headed home through the chilly night.

The parson was tired. Two-and-a-half hours after the morning worship, he'd gathered with some of the men of the church. They'd stood staring at the pile of lumber the parson and two others had hauled to the church from a church member's old chicken house. The stared and stared. The parson insisted the pile represented the correct lumber. When asked how he knew the parson pointed to the manger that he'd found on top of it.

Somehow the group had constructed the stable in rapid time. It wasn't as intricate as the one they'd used the year before, and there was a considerable bit of lumber left over, but it looked good.

At the prescribed hour the “actors” arrived, partook of the refreshments and quickly were transformed into shepherds, wise men, Joseph and Mary, and an angel. Taking their proper places the nativity was given life.

Now, heading home, the parson spoke to his faithful companion, “You know, Charlie Brown, I'm trying to figure out some things about these living nativities. After all these years, I've got questions. You got a minute?”

Charlie Brown made no protest which encouraged the parson to continue. “Okay, Charlie, here's the first question: Why don't church people label the parts of the stable so next year's crew will know how to put it together?”

Charlie Brown made no response.

“Okay,” the parson offered, “try this one. Why is it that as soon as everyone takes their place in the scene one of three or a combination of three things happen: one, it rains; two, it snows; or three the temperature drops twelve degrees?”

Charlie Brown did condescend to shift about on the rear seat of the car, but other than that gave no indication he knew the answer.

“So, here's another one for you, Charlie Brown: Why is the part of the Mother of Jesus, a young woman living in Israel two thousand years ago, usually played by a blond blue-eyed beauty?”

Still Charlie Brown made no response.

Now the parson pulled up the steep slope that is his driveway leading to his little bungalow on the hill overlooking the activities below. The parson opened the door, exited the car, opened the rear door to facilitate the exit of his faithful, if silent, canine companion. Charlie Brown was halfway up the steps when the parson asked his final question: “And by the way, Charlie Brown, where in the gospel stories is there any reference to an adopted stray dog being part of the manger scene?”

Charlie Brown stopped halfway up the steps. He turned to look at the parson with an expression that seemed to indicate he would not dignify the question with an answer.

Snowy Days and Baptist Visitors

The parson indulged himself with a rare Sunday evening out. Sitting in a local eatery he watched the rare Georgia snow trickle down upon the frozen ground. Before him was the slight remains of a steak. The baked potato had been completely consumed, skin and all. Now the parson enjoyed a quiet moment

It was the first Sunday back in the pulpit since Ms. Parson had died. It was a good Sunday, cold,icy, with only the dedicated in attendance.

The night before the calls had come. “Parson, we having church tomorrow. They say it's going to snow.” The parson suggested to the callers it might be prudent to wait til morning before cancelling the worship. The parson discovered as the envening went on he was in a minority. Across the TV screen the crawler announced the cancellation of one church service after another.

At dawn the parson and his faithful canine companion, Charlie Brown, tested the day. It was bitingly cold. The wind peppered the parson's face with blowing flakes of ice. But the roads were safe.

The parson's phone began to receive text messages: “Are we having services?” The parson responded to each: “We r – c u there.”

Some of them were there. Some of them, which made the parson consider texting the ones who were not back asking, “Why'd you ask?”

Now the day was over. The snow was still falling. The air was still cold. The town was still quiet, devoid of much activity. The parson enjoyed his solitude and reflection.

“Hey, Parson, how are you doing?” asked Harvey Mulberry, Senior Pastor of the Sandy Creek Baptist Church of the Deeply Immersed.

“I'm doing okay,” replied the parson. “I appreciate the note you sent, Harvey.”

“My pleasure, Parson. You're still in my prayers. Say, someone told me you guys had worship today.”

“We did, Harvey. It was a really good service.”

“I'm surprised you didn't call the service off, Parson. With all this snow and ice it can be dangerous.”

“Well, we checked the roads first, Harvey.”

“Nevertheless, Parson, I'm not sure what's the benefit of having the service on a day like this.”

The parson watched Harvey settle into a booth with his companions. He placed a generous tip on the table for Emily, the server, and headed out to the car where Charlie Brown at his approach roused himself from his sleep.

The parson cranked the car and pulled out onto the ice free road. “Remind me, Charlie Brown,” he said, “to ask the treasurer how much the Baptists visitors dropped in the plate this morning.”

My Christmas Wish For You

May Christmas bring you …

A wonder like that of children discovering something spectacular has happened.

A gathering of family without one single cousin making a statement as stupid as the one made last year.

A bushel of patience with the one who insists on opening the present in such a way as to preserve the paper for another day.

A table laden with baked ham and turkey, cramberry sauce, potatoes smothered in Mama's gravy, and a desert table weighted down with pineapple upside down cake, German chocolate cake, ambrosia, rum soaked fruit cake for most of us and a plain rumless alternative for tee-totaling Baptists.

Pretty girls under the mistletoe.

A doting uncle convinced the nephews are rugged and the hope of the future and the nieces walking examples of perfect 10s.

Teenaged daughters who are radiant with enthusiasm and devoid of a “whatever” attitude.

A bevy of presents containing now one single tie, belt, underwear, after shave or perfume.

Receiving re-gifted presents from only those without the sophistication to know the gift's actual value.

Not one single incident of an elementary schooler crying out, “Will you make him stop?”

The absence of the relative whose annual contribution is a critique of the reasons you have not reached a higher level of accomplishment in life.

Not one comment about the pastor's Christmas Eve message or the choir's amateurish handling of the Gloria.

An ample supply of batteries.

And my undying gratitude for your prayers and support and desire this be your most blessed Christmas yet.

Grace and peace,

The Parson

(I'll be back Monday)

Christmas Greetings

 

Keep It Simple

 The parson walked down from the Youth Building and headed toward the front of the church where some folks were in the parking lot. He discovered they were lost, having turned east of the interstate when they needed to go west. The detour caused him to use the front door of the sanctuary to get to his study.

As he walked down the center aisle he saw Myrtice Jenkins sitting in one of the pews.

“Morning, Myrtice. What brings you to church this morning?”

I came down to pick up something from my Sunday school class, Parson. And for some reason I just meandered in here to study this Christmas tree.”

“You’re studying the tree?”

“I am, Parson. Seems to me the first Sunday in Advent this tree had lights on it. And I’m pretty sure one other morning it had lights during the Sunday school hour but not later.”

“Actually, Myrtice,” the parson said, ‘it has lights but we’re not using them now.”

“How come?”

“Well, there’s a fuse in the light cord. For some reason it keeps blowing. We buy new fuses and the lights burn for an hour or so and then the fuse blows again. To be honest I got tired of buying fuses, so I suggested we just leave them off this year.”

“That explains it,” said Myrtice. “Actually, Parson, I think I like the tree the way is is with just those simple ornaments on it. Maybe God’s sending us a message.”

“What’s the message, Myrtice.”

“The message, Parson, is: Keep it simple.” Myrtice rose from her pew and stepped into the aisle. She patted the parson on the shoulder. “You keep that in mind when you’re writing a sermon on the Incarnation.”

Graphic by subscription with Clip Art [dot] Com

A Missed and Remembered Christmas

 It was forty-five years ago. The wheels of the plane left the runway of Scott Air Force Base. We were headed west. 

My assigned duties ended on December 23rd. But my active duty tour did not end until December 28th. Something was definitely not right here. I pointed out the disappointing dates to my commanding officer. He volunteered that it was fine with him if I went home, but that since I was a part of the Georgia Air National Guard I would have to have the proper authorizing authority there request my return.

I left his office with a smile on my face. He didn’t know the proper authorizing authority in the Georgia Air National Guard was my father. I made the phone call.

“You want me to do what?” he asked.

I explained the situation.

“So, you want me to call up your commanding officer and request that my son be released from duty early. Are you out of your mind?”

Geez, I never knew Daddy was so gung-ho!

Turned out there were others who were going to be on active duty during that time who, also, had nothing to do. I don’t know who it was who came up with the idea. I don’t remember if I volunteered or someone asked me. But, having nothing to do until my active duty time was up, I went along. 

We flew from one Air Force base to another, picking up Airmen, Marines, Sailors and Soldiers and taking them to the nearest Air Force facility to their home. From one side of the country to the other we flew, making sure someone kept their promise to “be home for Christmas.” It wasn’t until the day after Christmas we returned to our home base.

After our “mission” we settled down in the barracks, watched some TV and stuffed ourselves at the mess hall.

I finally begged a ride myself back to Georgia. Daddy was there to greet his son who had completed his ENTIRE obligation to the United States Air Force. I remember that day so well. He was glad I was home; and he was proud I had served.

I missed Christmas that year, but a lot of others did not, and that made one of the best ever.

Christmas Conversation

 The parson was walking around the outskirts of the outlet mall near his home. He wasn’t shopping. There was ten days left before Christmas. The circle around the outskirts of the mall was the mid-point of the three mile walk the two were enjoying.

Walking on the outskirts of the mall, behind the stores, was usually a solitary endeavor. But today, as they walked past a break in the stores, a man who appeared to be in his fifties came trotting back to intercept them.

“Hey,” the man called out. “That’s a nice looking dog you’ve got there.”

“Thank you,” said the parson. 

As the man approached Charlie Brown stuck his head out to sniff whether this stranger was a United Methodist or not. He must have been close enough as Charlie Brown humbled himself into allowing the man to pet him. The gentleman asked about Charlie and the parson told the tale of Charlie Brown’s rescue from starvation and near death.

“Are you walking all the way around the mall?” the man asked.

“We are,” said the parson. “Come join us.”

“Oh, wonderful,” the man responded. “I’m bored out of my skin. The wife’s shopping and shopping and shopping. I mean, gracious, I’m glad we can afford it, but I’m not all that big on proving we can afford it. I finally got tired of exploring every store in this place and told her I’d meet her at the car later.”

He fell into place beside the parson and they followed Charlie Brown as he sniffed his way along the mall’s outer fence trying to determine if any other four legged creature had intruded upon his space. 

“Got your shopping done?” the man asked.

“Not yet,” said the parson. “I tend to put it off until the last couple of days.”

“Not my Alice,” he said. “She starts the Christmas adventure around the first of October.”

The parson tried to imagine shopping for Christmas for three months. Charlie Brown stopped, sat down, cocked his head and watched someone from one of the stores toss boxes into a dumpster. The parson and the visitor stopped to watch also. When the store door closed behind the man Charlie stood and continued his walk.

“Got any grandkids?” the man asked.

“I do,” said the parson and briefly described six of the brightest beings in the world.

“I’ve got four,” the man said. He revealed his four were on a par with the parson’s. “I don’t mind shopping for those kids,” he said. “Christmas shopping should be for the ones who have not lost the wonder of it.”

“I’ll agree with that,” the parson agreed.

Charlie Brown stopped and eyed the two of them for a moment. He then turned and led them further along the perimeter. The two men walked quietly for a while until eventually they reached the end of the buildings. Charlie Brown headed toward the mall’s exit following his well rehearsed path. 

“Guess you guys are headed off that way,” said the man.

“We are,” said the parson. “That’s our house up on the side of that mountain.”

“Well, nice talking with you,” he said. He walked over to Charlie Brown and gave scratched his head. “This has been nice. You know,” he said, “Christmas ought to be about something more than buying presents.”

“You’re right,” said the parson. “It should.”

After Charlie Brown and the parson had crossed the road, the parson looked back to see the man with a woman walking beside carrying a stack of packages toward a waiting minivan.

Graphic by subscription with Clip Art [dot] Com

Chattanooga Christmas

His bag seemed packed to the hilt, sitting on the curb beside him where the semi-trucks exited the Quik Trip. The piece of cardboard he held in his hands read “Chatt.”  The parson had seen him as he drove in. And now here he was as the parson and his faithful canine companion, Charlie Brown, exited the facility.

The parson stopped beside him. “Hop in.”

The man rose, took a grip on his bag, and as he was pulling it upward spied Charlie Brown in the back seat. He froze and continued to stare.

“He’s not going to hurt you,” said the parson. “He’s just big; he’s gentle as can be.”

The man studied Charlie Brown intently. He placed his bag on the ground and stepped close to the car. Tentatively, he stuck his hand through the open window and slowly extended it toward Charlie Brown. The faithful canine companion stretched his nose toward the hand, sniffing the digits carefully. After a moment the man seemed satisfied. He turned and retrieved his bag from the curb.

“Where do you want me to put this?” he asked.

“Want to toss it in the trunk?” the parson asked.

“I guess so,” said the man whereupon he walked behind the car.

The parson pulled the lever, disengaging the trunks lock and it popped open. The bag was tossed in; the man closed the lid, walked back to the front passenger door and hopped in.

“Next stop, Chattanooga?” said the parson.

“You’re going all the way to Chattanooga?” the man asked.

“I am,” said the parson.

“But your tag says you’re from the county just up the road.”

“I am, but today I’m heading to Chattanooga.”

The man seemed to study the parson as the car merged with the northbound traffic. 

“What’s your name?” asked the parson.

“I’m Sid,” said the man.

The parson then introduced himself. And the conversation began. Sid was from Florida. He had a job waiting in Chattanooga. He was trying to hitchhike to save money so he’d be able to find a cheap place to live until he could get paid. Sid had two children, both girls. He produced pictures and bragged on each as he held them up for the parson’s inspection. Both he and his wife had been laid off their jobs. She and the children were staying with her mother until Sid could get settled. 

A few miles outside Chattanooga, the parson asked Sid for the address of the place he was headed. Sid pulled his wallet out and extracted a card. He gave the parson the address. The parson pulled the car into a rest area. There, he punched the address into his GPS device and proceeded up the road. Sid was silent.

Following the GPS devices the parson pulled up in front of Sid’s next place of employment in about ten minutes.

“Here we are,” said the parson.

Sid continued to stare. Then he quietly got out of the car and stepped to the trunk. The parson popped the lid. Bag rescued, Sid  stepped to the still open passenger door. He leaned in.

“You weren’t coming to Chattanooga, were you?”

“Well, not until I saw you,” said the parson.

“Why’d you do that?” asked Sid.

“It’s a Christmas present,” said the parson.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” said Sid.

“It is today,” said the parson, for both of us. Hope the job works out Sid.”

Sid’s image was framed by the rearview mirror as the parson drove away. His bag rested on the curb. Sid was still staring at the retreating car.