Real Live Preacher - My Church - Covenant Baptist

Menagerie Part Two

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 16:39:11 -0600

A few days ago I told you the story of a mysterious little menagerie of toy animals that appeared and then disappeared from a large rock by the sidewalk that leads to the front door of our church. I speculated that someone from a wedding party might have removed them.

The Original Menagerie that Disappeared

A few days later I was picking up around the church when I found something interesting in the nursery.

At first glance I thought I had found my lost collection of toy animals. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the turtle and the giraffe and the rabbit were missing. The hippopotamus was blue instead of purple, and a baby elephant had been added to the collection.

I wondered what else I might find if I wandered around the church. I found the rabbit under a table in Judy's Sunday School room.

Despite my best efforts, the turtle, the giraffe, and the original hippo were nowhere to be found. I did, however, find a lion in the corner of the nursery.

So I reconstructed the collection as best I could. It wasn't exactly the same, but certainly in the same spirit as the original.

My Reconstruction

Yesterday I found that some mysterious person has added a turtle and two birds eating from a bushel of apples to our little shrine.

Our New Menagerie

I wonder where this is going. Will it become famous? Will animals mysteriously appear and disappear from time to time? Will people make pilgrimages to see this shrine, like they do to see the image of Jesus on a tortilla?

Occasionally someone will ask me what ministers do all day when they're not preaching or visiting someone in a hospital. I'm never quite sure how to answer that question. Next time I think I'll say that we are here to make sure that sacred places are cared for and important things are not lost in the fast-paced shuffle of everyday life.

rlp

Covenant Baptist Church

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 16:38:47 -0600

I thought some of you might like to see pictures of our church. I took this one with my new digital camera. It came with some software that let me stitch together five images to make this panoramic view, taken from the parking lot.

Click for a larger image

We carved a space out of the trees for our church five years ago. It took us about six weeks to clear the land because we did it by hand. The foliage was so thick that I had to crawl on my hands and knees to put out the stakes that marked the foundation.

You can't see our church from the road, and I get a lot of questions about that. Apparently most churches want high visibility. We opted for serenity. People who need to find us somehow do. I mean, there is a sign for goodness sakes.

Here's the front door.

Click for a larger image

Here's a picture of me inside our worship room. It's an unusual worship space because we have a fireplace for our altar. The cross and mantle are made from wood salvaged from a 150-year-old Amish barn. The bongos belonged to a charismatic church that used to meet in our building on Friday nights. I called them "The Flower Children." Sadly, their church fell apart after the tragic death of their pastor, and they took the bongos with them when they left. For some reason I really miss the bongos, though we never used them ourselves.

When I preach on Sunday mornings, I just stand in front of the fireplace and talk to my friends. I like it this way. I don't think I'd feel right standing behind a pulpit.

Recently I discovered a little menagerie of toy animals on a large rock next to the sidewalk that leads to the building. This little collection first appeared one Sunday after church. The next Wednesday night it was still there and had grown a little. The following Sunday I took this picture of it:

I have no idea how they came to be there. I assume one of our children was outside playing after church and forgot his or her toys, but no one ever claimed it. So there it sat for a couple of weeks, giving me great pleasure every time I saw it.

I performed a wedding at the church last Friday, and someone from the wedding party took the animals away. At least I assume so. When I showed up Friday with my robe, all the animals were gone. No one had been at the church that day except the wedding people. Maybe one of their children couldn't resist.

But I miss the little animals. They had their own beauty and always made me smile.

There's a lot of precious little things that happen in a small spiritual community. And while I love the big events, it is always some small thing that captures my heart and makes me smile.

rlp

http://www.covenantbaptist.org

Judy

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 16:41:06 -0600

Judy caught me in the hallway of our church on a Wednesday night, when we were finishing dinner and people were busy putting chairs and tables away.

“Hey, I need to talk to you for a minute when you get a chance. Alone, if we can.”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it's nothing bad or anything.”

“Okay, give me a second.”

I finished up a couple of conversations and said goodbye to a few people. Then Judy and I ducked into the room at the end of the hall where she teaches the four and five-year-old Sunday School class. This was her first year to teach, and I remember how scared she was when she started.

“You know about that deacon thing, how I was nominated and all?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was gonna say 'No.' I thought about it a lot, and I decided that I just wasn't worthy of something like that. I mean, I just finally stopped smoking, and I still cuss sometimes. I'm trying to do better with that.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but she continued before I could get a word out.

“But then I read your book." She began to smile. "And I thought, dang, if this guy can be the PASTOR of the church, surely I could be a deacon or something.”

We looked at each other for a moment or two, then we both started laughing. After a few seconds, she spoke up again.

“So anyway, count me in. I'll serve if you need me to, or if I get elected or whatever."

I nodded.

"You know, I always used to put you up on a pedestal or something. You being the pastor and all. And I never thought I could be that much of a spiritual person myself. But you're just human, like the rest of us. That made me feel a lot better."

"Okay," I said. "You're on the ballot."

Then she left, and I watched her walk down the hall. Judy, who wandered into our church five years ago, looking for the God she lost when she was growing up in the Texas Panhandle. Judy with the big smile and the sad eyes.

I admit I was a little worried when the book came out. Not for myself, but for our church. I didn't want the collection of friends we call Covenant Baptist Church to be harmed. I was worried that some of the people in our church might be uncomfortable with parts of my book. Let's be honest; a lot of church people are uncomfortable with some of the things I write.

So yes, I was a little worried. But then this thing with Judy happened, and I thought, "Maybe this is all going to work out just fine."

rlp

Written with the permission and blessing of Judy S.

The Dignity of Children

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 16:48:22 -0600

I'm back. Where were we?

Oh yeah, so anyway Anna had a little trouble with the offering plate a few Sundays ago. Most people who put checks in the plate politely fold them in half. Someone didn't make a very good crease, and one of the checks opened up and was waving in the air like a tiny sail. Anna, who takes ballet and is almost five, tends to skip and run and bounce as she goes up and down the aisle, so the check caught a little breeze and flew out of the plate. When she bent down to pick it up, a few bills fell out. When she retrieved those the check fell out again. This sequence kept repeating itself until our worship service was beginning to look like a Marx Brothers' movie.

Finally, a kind and smiling adult helped her gather everything back into the plate, and she swished up to the front where we sit together and wait for the music to end. I noticed the check was still waving in the wind, so I pulled it out and gave it a good crease so that it would behave. When I leaned over to drop it back in, I let my cheek brush Anna's hair - sort of on purpose - and I couldn't help but whisper, “You're sweet.”

Church can be a little messy when the children take up the offering. I remember when a little girl named Natalie did this for the first time. Instead of handing the plate to the person at the end of the aisle, she went into the aisle itself and stood in front of each person, waiting for them to make a donation. The third person along didn't have anything to give. Natalie stood there looking at him. He shrugged and shook his head. She looked down at her plate, then back at him with a puzzled expression. Finally someone from the row behind handed him a dollar, and he dropped it in.

Natalie's mother, somewhat anxious and embarrassed, stood up and got her daughter's attention by whispering and waving. She jerked her head sideways and made little “scoot along” gestures, but Natalie had no idea what she was talking about, so she continued to stand in front of every person and wait for them to give something.

There was some tittering and quiet laughter, then a general panic as people started clawing through their purses and pockets looking for spare change and bills. Those who had extra shared with those who had none, rather like the early church in the second chapter of Acts. In the end everyone managed to find something to drop in the plate. We're a small church and we all know each other, so things like this are actually rather precious.

Having children help in worship introduces an uncertainty principle into the whole affair, making Sunday exciting and unpredictable. You can force children to stay in their seats, gaining some control over the velocity of worship, but losing something of its essence. Or you can let the children be a part of worship and accept the inevitable loss of control. It's like a lot of things; there is "give and take" and the constant search for balance.

Worship is something that happens when humanity and divinity come together. The intersection does not produce perfection, but understanding. We are only human, and worship is meant, among other things, to remind us of that. The main idea behind worship is that we come to a good understanding of who we are and who God is.

So away with the idea that worship is meant to be produced by experts and performed by professionals. Away with the idea that worship takes place up on a stage where it can be carefully orchestrated, controlled, and reproduced week in and week out, like some sort of TV show. I don't want order in church; I want dignity. And dignity comes not from control, but from understanding who you are and taking your rightful place in the world.

Children bring their own innocent dignity to worship, I've found. So let them come to the front and sit by the preacher. Let me lay my hands on their heads and whisper little blessings in their ears.

Better yet, let me become a child again myself. Let worship be a time of remembering who I am in the world. For I am just another little boy with messy hair, holding an offering plate at the front of the church, and wondering if anyone will whisper something nice in my ear today.

rlp

Acts 2:43-47

Note: It's May and I'm back, as promised. I've missed you A LOT. Clearly I'm not going to be able to survive without this wonderful outlet for my soul. A lot has happened to me in the month I've been away. Good things and a couple of hard things. I've learned something important about myself. I'll share that with you when I'm ready.

I'm heading for Dallas this afternoon to be a part of the Wilshire Baptist Church annual Preaching Practicum. I'll be back Wednesday.

The Gospel According To Anna

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 17:01:04 -0600

There is no such thing as The Gospel in the same way that there is no such thing as a circle. The Good News, like the perfect circle, lies forever beyond us and out of our reach. What we have is the gospel according to. Nothing more and nothing less...

Click here to read this essay at The Christian Century Website
NOTE: Look for the Real Live Preacher graphic on the right and click on it.

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After you've read the essay, don't miss the mysterious gospel according to Anna, online at its own website. Anna.RealLivePreacher.com

rlp

I Remember When Amy

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 17:11:12 -0600

I still don't remember the email exchange that occurred on the night I met Amy Main, though she's told me the story so many times that I feel like I remember it. She found the Covenant Baptist Church website back in 1995. It was a silly website, but weren't they all back then? Ours had Monty Python links and a goofy little animated stick-figure image that illustrated my growing anxiety as Sunday approached.

It was just quirky enough to intrigue her, so she sent me an email around midnight. I happened to be on the computer at the time, so I replied immediately, which surprised her almost as much as when she discovered that I lived just around the corner. We had a “You like Monty Python too?” email exchange, and then she showed up a church.

We were meeting in an elementary school at the time, and visitors were scarce. I remember that I looked up one Sunday morning and there she was sitting over to the right. I could see that she was interested and observant, but also cautious. I did not see her passion, her intelligence, her sense of humor, or her drive for excellence. Those things I would discover later. Neither did I see her pain, though it is evident in her eyes. I had no idea how deeply Amy had been wounded by people who dared to call themselves the church.

I would hear her stories later, and I would discover that Amy possesses a determined and childlike kind of faith. She has seen the worst of church, but she will not give up hoping for the best from God. She well knows the failings of people who use the name of Christ, but she believes that Jesus will never let her down. Her faith in God is endless and boundless and deeper than her worst experiences.

Amy Main is a true believer. That is what I would say about her.

Her husband Michael was not with her that first Sunday. He was just sniffing around the edges of Christianity at that time. Later he would join her and sit there in the elementary school on Sunday mornings, quietly watching and soaking it in.

And now nine years have somehow slipped by. Amy is an elder at Covenant and Michael is a deacon. Their leadership is such a critical part of our community that I can't imagine Covenant Baptist Church without them. When I try to remember how we got from those first tentative meetings to such a rich and abiding friendship, all I can do is come up with a few snapshot memories.

I remember the first time Amy sang “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” to open the season of Advent. I sat in the third of our three rows and wept. I was not prepared for the rich beauty of her voice.

I remember the evening I baptized Michael in a swimming pool along with a man named George who also became a deacon.

I remember when Michael and I started watching The Cowboys together on Sunday afternoons at his house. We've moaned, groaned, and cheered our way through several seasons together. When we built our church in 1999 and started worshipping at 10:30 instead of the traditional 11:00, some people suggested that I pushed for that time just so Michael and I would never miss the first quarter. I will neither confirm nor deny the truth of that rumor.

I remember how Amy used to stick her little finger in my youngest daughter Lillian's mouth, which made her stop crying every time. Only Amy could do this. It was like some kind of comic book super power.

I remember when we had a church meeting to discuss the fact that we had no one to teach Sunday School for the four and five-year old children. Michael, still new to the faith, raised his hand while Amy stared at him, dumbfounded. He said, “I don't know much about the bible, really, and I'm probably the poster child for how you do NOT want your children to turn out, but I'd be willing to teach them if someone would help me with the lessons.” Amy was thrilled with his leap of faith and immediately volunteered to be his assistant.

There was a little of this, a little of that, a little of the other thing, and now close to a decade has gone by. We're all a little older and I hope a little wiser.

Yes, I remember when Amy was just someone who showed up at church one Sunday morning. Now she and Michael are such dear friends that there is no word to describe them unless it is the word “family.” Our shared faith and ministry continually give me hope and strengthen me when I feel weak.

Now Amy and Michael are living through the most serious challenge of their marriage. Some of you read Michael Main's blog and know of Amy's health struggles over the last year. Somehow, in spite of it all, their marriage is intact, and they both say their faith in God is stronger than ever. Amy brought Michael to our church when he was in need, and now he is standing with her in the middle of her pain.

We gave our church the name “Covenant" because that is a word that means “sacred agreement.” We use that word to describe our agreement to be God's people in this world. We use that word to describe our community agreement to stand by each other in good times and in hard times. And I would use that word to describe Amy and Michael's marriage. Theirs is a covenant kind of relationship.

I pray for Amy and Michael all the time. Sometimes when I pray for them I don't say anything. I breath until I become quiet, then I think about what it means to be a faithful, Covenant person. I imagine their faces and flip through my picture book of memories. And no matter how hard things are for them, I always find a reason to smile.

rlp

Michael and Amy, aka Pepe and Evangelina