Questing Parson

A Happy Ending

There are those days in the life of every pastor. It was two for the parson. One group disapproved of the way a project was being handled by another group. Each group called the parson. Each gave their view.

The parson listened; he tried to quietly express his opinion. It was exasperating. Perhaps it was so particularly because the parson was tired. He didn't want to deal with church issues. At one point he leaned his head back against the couch and in his mind rewrote the end of the gospel:

Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried. The third day he rose from the dead and appeared to his disciples. Peter said, “Lord, while you were in the tomb we organized a church.” And the Lord Jesus replied, “I'm out of here.”

Every pastor has those days. But not every pastor's day ends as did the parson's.

“Ring, Ring.”

“Hello.”

“Hello, Parson. It's Wilma Maddox.”

“Hi, Wilma, how are you tonight.”

“Well, from the look of things I'm probably a bit better than you. Harvey and I were talking. He said he thought you looked a bit distracted this morning. Look, we just want you to know that whatever you're having to deal with at the church or at home, Harvey and I love you and we're praying for you. And, look, if you ever need to get away from it all, just call. You can hide out here. Just park your car in the garage where no one can see it and make yourself at home in the guest room.”

“Wilma, you'll never know how much this call means to me.”

“You mean a lot to me and Harvey, Parson. Don't you ever forget we love you.”

Wilma bid the parson good night. The parson looked at Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, on his bed across the room. “Charlie Brown, I've decided to keep on keeping going.”

Sometimes Ministry Comes Easy

The parking lot was empty. The mail was retrieved, sorted and placed in the appropriate places, but not until the parson turned the heat on in the office. Churches somehow seem much colder than other places on winter days. But there are only a few folks who know that. When the average Joe arrives on Sunday morning someone has turned the heat on hours before. An empty church on a week day when the weather is cold outside is differently cold. The temperature may be higher than outside,having never reached freezing because of thermostat controls, yet the chill is penetrating, especially in the sanctuary.

The parson sat down in the office. The heater was making progress in in battling the chill. He had things to read, calls to make, planning for future sermons. The heater had just turned the corner in its battle, allowing him to divest himself of the jacket, when there was a knock on the door.

Opening it he discovered a woman of middle age, well groomed, well dressed. She stood with her arms over an expensive leather jacket hugging her torso.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you would allow me to use your church for prayer.”

“Of course,” responded the parson, “did you want to use the sanctuary? It's cold in there. Maybe a Sunday school classroom that has a heater would be better.”

“If you don't mind, I'd prefer the sanctuary.”

“Sure, come on in.”

The parson escorted her to the doorway that led into the sanctuary, at the rear of the chancel. She entered and quietly made her way to the first pew. There she sat down, having seemingly dismissed my presence from her thoughts. She placed her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. Her lips silently moved. Feeling an intruder on a private moment the parson left.

Back in the office, he called a fellow pastor who’d asked him to speak at a function his church was hosting. The parson wanted more information before he answered. They talked for several minutes. Following this he composed several email responses to inquiries; he looked up the scriptures for next Sunday and jotted down some initial ideas for the sermon. He then noticed the time indicator on the computer. He'd been working for almost an hour and a half since she'd taken her place on the front pew.

He headed back to the sanctuary and quietly opened the door, expecting to see it empty, the pilgrim having exited through another door. She was still there. Her elbows no longer on her knees, she had one hand upon her forehead as she continued to pray. Again, there was not audible sound, but her lips were moving.

He returned to the office. Another hour passed. Again he peeked in the sanctuary. She was still there, kneeling now. Her lips no longer moved but her entire countenance reflected deep meaningful prayer.

The parson returned to the office. Now he played Free Cell on the computer as he awaited this woman with a spiritual life far more deeper than was his. In a half hour she knocked on the door.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“No problem. Is there anything I can do for you.”

“You already have helped me greatly,” she replied.

She left in a car with out-of-state plates, plates indicating a 1500 mile journey. Sometimes ministry is easily provided.

Good Intentions, But ....

Ring! Ring!

The parson looked at the screen on the iPhone. His mind quickly weighed the options available to him: 1) let it go to voice mail, 2) let it go to voice mail and then delete the message before listening, 3) let it go to voice mail and listen to the message and then delete it without returning the call, 4) and the least attractive choice was to answer the phone. Realizing the first three options only put off the inevitable conversation he chose number four.

“Hello, Sharon. How are you?”

“I'm fine, Parson. I'm must fine.”

“Well, what prompts the pleasure of your call at this early hour?” asked the parson.

“What prompts my call is that Ed and I have decided we need to do something to make sure you're okay.”

“Thanks for your thoughtfulness, Sharon. I'm as good as I can be under the circumstances.”

“Well, we were talking about those circumstances, Parson. And Ed has said it will be okay for me to come over to your house two or three times a week and straighten up and clean up.”

“That's awfully kind of you, Sharon. But I'm managing on my own. I really do appreciate the offer.”

“Parson, there's no reason for you to send your laundry out. There's no reason why I can't come over there and take care of that.”

“I don't send my laundry out, Sharon. When I was in graduate school I took an advance course in washing machine operation. I also took a course in ironing.”

“Very funny, Parson. Seriously, you need some help. Without Ms. Parson around to take care of things you need some help and we're going to give it.”

“Sharon,” the parson said in a steady and deliberate tone, “no one is going to be trapsing about my house. It might surprise you to know I'm pretty good at picking up after myself.”

“Nevertheless, Parson ….”

“Nevertheless, Sharon, while I appreciate your intention, the very last thing I need now is to have to worry about someone in my house. Thank you for what you want to do, but I'm going to manage on my own.”

“I can't believe you're refusing to let us take care of you.”

“I'm not, Sharon, I'm just rejecting your definition of what I need. I tell you what, if you really want to help why don't you get on the phone and call everybody you can think of. Invite them to come to church this Sunday. It's the first Sunday of the new year and the best thing you could do for me is to fill up every pew this Sunday.”

“Well, I don't know about that, Parson. I'm not sure folks would appreciate me calling and telling them they need to go to church.”

“You know, Sharon, I've got a feeling you'll be able to overcome that reluctance to interfere. I'm getting real excited about seeing all those faces Sunday. You and Ed have a great day. And thanks for calling.”

A Christmas Promise

The parson was trying to get back into the routine of living. He and Charlie Brown, his faithful cannine companion, had resumed their morning walks around the Quik Trip, America's best convenience store stop. Then they headed down the back roads, over the wooden bridge, past the hawk's nest and over to the church.

The parson gathered the sympathy cards and other mail from the box and headed inside to check the phone messages.

He plopped himself into the rocker that had not held his weary body in two weeks. Charlie Brown curled himself into a ball in the corner with a grunt. The parson began to open envelopes, sorting the cards from the other mail. He had not opened a dozen when the door banged open. Charlie Brown raised his head quickly, but spying the source of the noise tucked his head down again.

“Hi, Parson,” squealed Helen Morris, a energy-filled three-and-a-half year old. She bounded across the room and leaped into the parson's lap.

She'd barely settled on the parson's lap when her mother entered. “I'm sorry, Parson,” she said. “She saw your car and got excited that you're back.” Helen's mom then asked, “How are you coping.”

“I'm okay for where I am,” said the parson. “She's not bothering me. Let her stay a few minutes.”

“Are you sure? I'm just taking a quick inventory of the pantry.”

“I'm glad she's here,” said the parson.

Helen's mom left. The parson asked Helen about her day. She said it was a good day. The parson asked her about her brother. He learned he was fine and was off with her daddy. And then Helen brought it up.

“Mom told me that Ms. Parson is with Jesus.”

“She is,” said the parson. “She is.”

“Who's going to teach my Sunday school class?”

“I don't know, Helen. Who taught it last Sunday?”

 “Ms. Redding taught it. She was pretty good. We had fun, but Ms. Parson used to color with us.”

“She liked to color.”

The parson decided to change the subject. “So, Helen, did you ask Santa to bring you anything?”

She squirmed around to look the parson in the face. “I asked him to bring me three rainbows.”

The parson was surprised. “You asked Santa for a rainbow.”

“Yes, three rainbows.”

“Why do you want a rainbow?”

“'cause. A rainbow is a promise from God. That's what my Aunt Verna said.”

“A rainbow is a promise from God, Helen. I think that's a wonderful thing to ask for.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I hope I get it, but it's pretty big for a sleigh.”

The parson was about to attempt to explain how big Santa's sleigh really was when Helen's mother returned. Helen jumped off the parson's lap before her mother told her to. As her feet hit the floor she proclaimed, “Bye, Parson. I have to go.”

“Bye, Helen,” said the parson, smiling. “Have a good Christmas.”

“I will, Parson,” she said. She turned to leave with her mother but then turned back and came to the side of the parson's rocker. She cupped her hands to whisper a secret. The parson leaned down.

“I'm going to ask Santa to bring you a rainbow, too.”

 

Trial By Heat

The pastor’s meeting had been a pastor’s meeting. Now the brothers and sisters were sitting at tables in the fellowship hall. They were devouring a routine meal of baked chicken, green beans, and potato salad served in a pedestrian presentation on a round plate with a tossed salad of wilted texture in a matching Styrofoam bowl.

Bob Cordele, Senior Pastor at Magnificent Edifice Church of the Never Humble, was asking Alex Hopkins about the happenings at the Congregation of the Peeved Saints.

“We’re doing okay, I guess,” said Alex Timorous, a pastor in his second year at the church. “Right now we’ve got a challenge. I just discovered yesterday that the HAVC unit has gone completely out. We’re going to have to replace it. The Trustees met last night.  Some of the folks are in a panic about this.”

“What’s the panic?” asked Richard Keen, Pastor of The Church of the Heavily Endowed. “Just get it replaced.”

“I’m afraid we’d have to borrow some money to do that,” said Alex. “We need a little time to arrange that.”

“Well, take the time,” encouraged Richard.

“The Trustees are worried that if we don’t get it fixed in a week or two there will be some people who will leave the church,” said Alex.

Alex looked at the parson, “Parson, what do you think we should do?”

“Let’s see,” said the parson. “You’re worried that people won’t come back to the church if you don’t get the air conditioning on in two weeks?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I think I’d wait and fix it in September and then build a really potent church with the folks that are still active.”