Evangelist For A Different Church

“I'm glad I ran into you, Parson,” said Ginny Carter. “There's something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What's that?” asked the parson as he placed the fresh asparagus he'd just taken from the produce shelf.

“Well, I'd like to talk privately,” said Ginny.

“We're in the middle of a grocery store,” said the parson.

“Maybe we could go over there by the deli where they have those tables. We could have privacy there.”

The parson quickly weighed his schedule for the day, his desire to talk or not to talk with Ginny, his knowing that Ginny would not be talking about the weather but what was a crisis in her mind. But then again she did work tirelessly in the church.

“Okay, Ginny, let's go over there. How about I get you a sandwich?”

“No, thank you. Let's just talk.”

The parson looked longingly at the club sandwich displayed on the deli counter, but he relented and joined Ginny at a table near the window.

“So, what's up, Ginny?” asked the parson.

“Okay, Parson, I'm going to get straight to it. I was told by someone ...”

The parson interrupted, “Does Someone have a last name?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ginny, don't be talking about 'someone'. I can't deal with 'someone' but I can deal with real people.”

Ginny screwed her lips up. She paused for a moment. “Okay, I was told by Sally Reynolds that you told Melissa Garner you'd help her find another church.”

“I did,” said the parson. “Sally is right. But what I really said was I'd help them find a church that fit their needs.”

Ginny's mouth opened. She stared at the parson. It was a good thirty seconds before she spoke. “I can't believe my pastor would suggest to a member of the church that he'd help them find another church.”

“Melissa is not a member of our church,” said the parson.

“Well, technically that's right. But she's been attending almost every Sunday for several months.”

“She has,” said the parson.

“Well, don't you think she would become a member soon?”

“No, I don't.”

“Why wouldn't she want to become a member?”

“Ginny,” said the parson leaning closer across the table. “Think about last Sunday. Picture Ginny in the Sunday School class. You were there. Tell me what you see.”

“Are you serious?”

“I'm serious. What do you see in your mind's eye when you picture last Sunday and Melissa in your class?”

“Okay, well, she had on this really nice plaid-like skirt and a – well, to be honest that skirt might have been a little short, but, let's see – she had a pale yellow blouse on.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean, 'What else'?”

“Where was she sitting?”

“She was sitting kind of away from the others, kinda in the back. That fellow she's dating was on her right. And, let's see. Oh, she had the toddler in her lap and was playing with her to keep her quiet.”

“What about her boyfriend?”

“Okay, he was dressed in blue slacks and an oxford blue button down shirt. And he, no, he didn't have a tie.”

“What else about him?”

“Okay, I got it. He had the baby in his arms.”

“Do you see anything wrong with the picture you've described, Ginny?”

“Wrong? No. I think it's sweet for them to be there with those precious children.”

The parson sat back in his chair. “Ginny, do you remember the last two Council on Ministry meetings?”

“Well, I guess. What about them?”

“Do you remember me insisting that we couldn't wait for young adults with children to show up and not be ready for them in advance. Do you remember me telling you we need a nursery and a pre-school Sunday School class? Do you remember me telling you that even if no one who fit that description was there one Sunday we need to be prepared if they showed up the next Sunday?”

“Okay, Parson, I sorta remember that.”

The parson smiled, “Guess what, Ginny. They showed up. They showed up and they can't enjoy attending our church because we didn't prepare for them. So they have to sit there with their kids on their knees. And because they're sitting there with their knees filled with squirming kids we've effectively sent them a message.”

“You're getting a little hostile, Parson.”

“Do you think so?”

“Well, look I don't think that excuses you telling them you'd find them a church.”

“I don't need an excuse, Ginny. It's my moral obligation, my fidelity to my vows, to be sure that she and her significant other and, especially, the children are engaged in a vital church that prepares those children to live a Christian life in the future.”

“I've never known a pastor to tell people who attend our church they should go somewhere else.”

“Actually, Ginny, she came to me and we talked about it. I suggested she was right, that a church should provide a ministry to her children.”

“So, you're going to help them find another church?”

“I'm going to help them find a church that's prepared to minister to her children as well as the two of them. I'm still praying that church may be the one they already attend. But the clock's ticking, Ginny. The clock's ticking. So, Ginny, it's up to you guys.”

Ginny leaned forward. She whispered, 'Sometimes you really piss me off.”

“Let's hope so, Ginny. Let's hope so.”

Comments

[S0]

Awesome.
Sometimes - like now -I read your posts and pray really hard that they're true. Because this story gives me hope in the leadership of the UMC. No matter how small you may think your "little country church" is, Parson (it's huge by our standards!) - some folks really are being raised up in the faith!

[wondering aloud]

love it....totally....