Years ago Marsha and I sat in a crowded sanctuary with about 500 people packed into a space designed for half that, and listened to a preacher who was, as we would say in the South, a barn burner. The crowd was fully into this preacher. He would raise his voice to thunder level and then drop it to a near whisper. He paced, holding his Bible high. He walked the aisle. He sweated. At one point he asked a series of questions. When someone answered correctly, he would throw them a candy bar. Seriously. Marsha leaned over and whispered that we should leave, but then she tried to intercept a candy bar intended for someone else. When it was over, we walked to our car and got in. Once the doors were closed, Marsha said, “Well, that was disgusting! What did you think of that?” I said, “I really don’t care how someone preaches. What bothered me was that he misquoted the Bible and took verses out of context. He wasn’t prepared to preach. He was prepared to act.”

         I am never going to pack in people like that preacher. I don’t shout, at least not often. I don’t walk the aisles. I don’t throw candy bars. I know I am not electrifying. But I can tell you that when I step into the pulpit, I am ready and prepared to preach. The Bible is a precious gift to be handled carefully. Its words are like jewels of great value. The lessons contained within the pages are life altering. I cannot act in the pulpit.

         I bring this up because I have long been bothered by those who use the Bible and the pulpit to manipulate in order to achieve their own personal agenda. I find that personally offensive.

         And that affects other areas of life, as well. Monday morning I was looking for a worship song for Sunday. Sometimes I will let two or three songs play one after the other. Sometimes when I do that a commercial will pop up, which gives me the opportunity to rub my temples to combat the headache listening to music brings me. I was doing this when I heard a familiar voice. “Hi. It’s me, Nancy. I am sorry to interrupt your scrolling, but I need to talk with you for a minute.” My head really started pounding when I opened my eyes and saw the friendly face of Nancy Pelosi looking back at me. She was so sincere as she told me how the Republicans aimed to destroy this great democracy we call America. Only by voting for Democrats can disaster be averted. I clicked her off.

         If I feel any politician, Democrat or Republican, really cares for me and my loved ones, I will sit and listen to what they say. I may not agree with him or her, but I will listen. The US Representative for our district in Ohio, a district that was very large, would send flowers to the funeral of any veteran who passed away. If he was not in D.C. and the veteran was a World War II vet, this congressman would come to the visitation or the funeral himself. Sometimes with his wife, but he always came. He would go up to the family with no fanfare and usually not even tell them his name. He would talk just for a bit and then quietly slip out. I once stepped up to him and held out my hand. He waved it away. In a whisper, he said, “No, I don’t want to attract any attention.” He represented these people in D.C. and he was humbled by the opportunity. I voted for him every two years. A serious man of his people, the type of person who didn’t consider himself a leader, but rather a servant.

         What would it be if all religious ‘leaders’ and politicians and news outlets were like that lone congressman? On the subject of abortion, religious types would be urging prayer. If they were part of a large part of religion that favors abortion, or if they were of the large part that opposes abortion, they would all be urging prayer. Politicians, regardless of which side of the question they stand on, would be telling people that abortion isn’t outlawed, it is just up to each individual state now. The news media would be urging calm when they reported the news.

         But, personal agendas explode. From denominational offices and from the pulpits. You will seldom see a politician standing before a camera and telling the truth. And the news media, well, we all know about the news media.

         The politician I mentioned? He retired when it was found he had cancer. A Cleveland news station reported that this particular politician had a certain net worth when he went to Washington and, almost twenty years later, had a net worth that was actually less than he had at the beginning. He served his district. His name is not important, because you have never heard of him. He quietly and efficiently served, and it cost him financially. He was also a born again Christian.

         Why can’t religious ‘leaders’ and politicians and news media people simply give their lives to their calling? Because they are actors, they have agendas and people, for whatever reason, follow them. Don’t be sheep.

          Urbana Yoke Parish is a church in trouble. If you have ask ‘what kind of trouble,’ you are not paying attention.

         On any given Sunday you can look around at the congregation and see that attendance is down. You say to yourself, “We used to have twenty kids come forward to hear a Children’s Story, we used to have teenagers, we used to have young adults! Where are they?” That is a good question.

         The answer is simple, really. We have had our share of deaths over the last couple of years. We also have some people who have transitioned to being shut-ins. That could change for some of those, but for now it is a fact of life. And as far as the young adults and the kids, most have left because there is nothing for the kids.

         I have been told that those that have left should suck it up and create something for the kids. Maybe twenty years ago, maybe even ten years ago. But that doesn’t work for today. The world has changed. It is hard enough to raise your own kids. Unless you have a calling for it, working with the kids of other people is a high stress endeavor.

         How does this make Urbana Yoke Parish a church in trouble? Although financially stable right now, that will begin to change over the next little while. A few more deaths, a few more shut-ins and the whole aspect of the church will change. Without younger people, the generation that makes up the Yoke now, will be the last. And that will be the result of what this generation does or does not do. You don’t have to go very far to find churches that have failed. We can say that we are not the only ones, but it doesn’t have to be.

         A Feasibility Committee was appointed by the Board to look at the problem and come up with a recommendation. That has been done and will be presented to the Board at the July meeting. From there it will be decided how to proceed and that will be brought to the congregation. But it has been established that there are four major options we can pursue:

1.) Do nothing. Let the church die and do not worry about the future.

2.) Get someone from the congregation or hire a part timer to generate something for the young people.

3.) Have the Pastor resign and call a new Pastor who can and will work with young people, as well.

4.) Call someone who is prepared by education, experience and Spiritual calling to fulfill this role. It would involve Youth, Education, maybe music for the younger ones. Plus whatever else can be given to them.

For the first one, that is the easy way. But to go that route means that all the work put into the building is wasted, all the money spent is down the drain and all the history of two churches is done.

On the second one, no one in the church has the desire. And don’t feel badly toward anyone. Remember, you aren’t offering either. Getting a part timer. Well, I have personally worked on that. Part timers usually come from within your own church. If they were from another church and they were  interested in working with kids, they would do it in their own church. Manchester University does not have a ministry division, per se. They do offer a pre-ministry course. It doesn’t look very impressive for what we need, especially as it includes ecumenicism in their offering. They also offer a diversity and inclusiveness course to go along with pre-ministry. Draw your own conclusions. Manchester is a very fine liberal arts college, but they are no longer the religious school they were two generations ago. Two years ago I contacted Huntington University. The job was posted, but I was told there was no interest because the church is so far away from the school. Seriously. Besides, that, would someone who is going to be here for a short time (six months to a year) really fill the need?

The third option involves my resignation and finding a Pastor who will do both jobs. If the church chooses this option, then I will resign. But finding a Pastor who will do both and do it well is very problematic. That is a special calling and there are very few out there.

The fourth option is calling a person to fill the position. That requires a financial investment. It requires a level of commitment the church has not had to reach before. It requires the ability to change our thinking. Although, with everything we have been through in the last five years or so, this church has gotten pretty good at changing the thinking.

Several have raised the question of why do we need someone for Youth if we have no Youth. Let’s envision something. A huge grocery store is going to be built right in Urbana. Big place. It is going to have everything in the way of food. A discount pharmacy. Special parking for tractors. This store is going to be great. Lots of buzz about it. As it begins to be built everyone, including you, is getting more and more excited. Finally, the big day comes. You come early to get in first. It was OK because they had the outside of the store air conditioned and it was comfortable. People are ready. Finally, the doors open and the crowd, including you, surges in. And everyone stops. Every cash register is manned, music is playing, shopping carts are all new. But there is not one single grocery item on the shelves. Everything is bare. The manager is standing there beaming with pride and you ask him, Where is the food? He replies, Oh, we had to wait until we knew we would have customers. Since we have customers, we will go ahead and order the food. It will get here one day.

OK, that is silly, I know. But it is really the same idea as why have something for Youth when we have no Youth. A young family sees a church that obviously cares for its appearance. They want to change churches and go to a non-denominational church. They decide to give the Yoke a try. They come in with their three kids, six years old, nine years old and thirteen years old. They see no children and assume that all the kids in the church are off somewhere in their own part of the church. The Mom asks you where her kids go. What do you say to her? Do they ever come back? And that is not silly. It is just profoundly sad.

Choices, options, the future.        

          Journeys.

         Everyone reading this is on their journey. We are not talking about trips. Journeys. You probably think of it as life, but it is a journey. Every journey is different. Every journey has its long stretches of sameness and little short blips of crazy fun. We see so much, maybe learn so much and we live so much.

         I have been thinking a lot about journeys this week. On June 14, 2021 my best friend from the growing up years died. His journey ended a year ago. A year ago I was sick and getting sicker. I had made an overnight trip to the Cleveland Clinic to spend time with Keith just two weeks before he died. The trip was so hard and I should have gone to ER when I got back, but I knew Keith was dying. He would have a funeral that the family expected me to do. So, I was sick, I was trying to help Keith’s family and my son was starting to freak out about a coming birth. Everything was a blur. Keith died, we had the funeral, two days after I got home I went into the hospital and while there I continued with Keith’s family. To busy and too sick to grieve.

         On June 14, 2022, however, it seemed to come out of nowhere. Funny how the mind works. I woke up on Tuesday in a dark, dark mood. That is not me at all. I started my morning and did my usual things, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of intense grief. Then I checked the date. My mind let me wait a year to grieve, but grief finally came. And that started me thinking about journeys.

         Keith’s journey was not unusual. His brother, Kevin, has had a wild journey, one Keith looked at with some envy. Kevin is a retired Navy Captain. He has commanded ships, been all over the world and has experienced a world very different from Keith’s. But Keith…graduated from Kent State University with a BA in business administration. Once out of college he became the assistant manager of a drug store. In time, be became manager of a drug store in Defiance, Ohio and then later of a very large store in Toledo. He retired in 2021 and a week later he started getting sick. Not long after going to the store in Defiance a young woman came into his store. She saw Keith and told me later it was love at first sight for her. Keith, however, had never been good around girls. They were a nuisance. They took up time and drained you of your money. He could never understand my fascination with girls. He would have been content to have gone on forever without a female in his life, but this young woman, ten years younger than Keith, wouldn’t let up. She practically begged him to go out with her. Finally, he did. On his third date with Gloria, she admitted that she had a spotty past and had two sons. Keith shocked her by wanting to meet the boys. They married, Keith adopted the boys and they were a happy family.

         Keith’s journey was boring, as he said, when compared to his two brothers. He was referring to me as his other brother. My journey has taken me to many places. I have preached in ten states and have pastored in three. Some of the things that happened along the way have been intense. We were married for five years before our son came long, and those were kind of crazy years. It only slowed a little with our son’s birth. He has seen bizarre. All part of the journey. And, having Marsha along on most of that journey was an experience in itself. For good or for bad, she was never boring. She managed to hang in with the weirdness, which was only fair since she created a fair amount of weirdness herself. Keith and I would get into a catching up conversation and he would eventually say how boring his own life was. But he and Gloria had WOW vacations. They did things that were fun and exciting. They went places.

         It is funny. He envied Kevin and myself a little. But Kevin and I envied Keith a little, too. Keith and Gloria lived in the same house a long time. Kevin and I, and our wives, seemed to always be on the move. Keith and Gloria were married a long time, “until death did they part.” Kevin and I cannot say that. Keith went to work every day and came home at night. Every day was certain. For Kevin and me, every day has been uncertain. That can get old after a couple of decades.

         Journeys.

          Everyone reading this is on journey. Your journey is unique. Maybe you have never lived outside the county you grew up in, or maybe you still live in the same zip code. But your journey can, and should be, amazing.

         And just so the journey isn’t just about your walk here and now, take this verse to heart. Hebrews 12:1  Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, If you do this, your grandchildren’s grandchildren will benefit from your journey. They will never know you and maybe never hear about you. But they will know of your Lord. You can work now to continue your church’s journey and in so doing you can leave a legacy behind. A legacy of grace and love.

         Now, that is a good journey.

          London, England. 1797. From the living quarters above a pub in a seedy part of the largest city in the world, a wail erupted, followed by a baby’s crying. The midwife did her part in cleaning up, but she was in a hurry to move on. Another baby to deliver. As soon as she could, she left the exhausted mother in the care of her husband. He would stay with her for a bit, but he had to get back to the pub below. He and the wife ran the place and it had to be operated whether a baby was being born or not. They had chosen to name the baby Edward. They felt it sounded somewhat regal.

         But there was nothing regal about that family setting. An English pub, even today, differs from an American bar. In an American bar, you might be able to get a cheeseburger or a hotdog with greasy fries, but the reason you go into a bar is to drink. In an English pub, you could get an abundance of drinks, but you could also get all manner of food, from fresh caught fish to shepherd’s pie to roast pork to rabbit stew to whatever was locally produced or killed. The mother of young Edward spent most of the day, from dawn till long after dusk, working in the kitchen. Edward’s father ran the bar part of the enterprise and kept a wary eye on the few employees that bustled about. Being London and near the Thames River, it was usually damp inside the pub. A fire crackled in the big stone fireplace on most days. But rather than being homey, it was just smoky. The large pot that hung over the fire contained the stew and it would boil over and add to the heavy atmosphere. Edward was largely ignored and was left on his own.

         Sailors just off the ships of the Royal Navy or the East India Company were often in the pub. War was brewing Europe and those upstart colonials in what they were calling the United States were showing no respect to the English crown. Everyone seemed tense and it was a rough crowd and so Edward spent most of his time on the gritty streets of London.

          As he grew, his father decided the boy would never be good in the pub. So, in Edward’s early teens he was sold into an apprenticeship to a cabinet maker. To his father, it was a quick way to make a little money while ridding himself of a responsibility he had never really wanted. For Edward, it was a salvation. To be a cabinet maker Edward would need to be able to read and write and work numbers. He would have to be educated. He found he had a real talent with wood and design. And being apprenticed to the cabinet maker, he was removed from the class of young men who were pressed into service in the Royal Navy or the Army during a time of brutal war.

         Edward turned out to be a very good cabinet maker. His sponsor was well respected and soon Edward was, as well. His introduction to education opened new worlds for the young man. He became well read and even taught himself to write poetry. He had a sharp mind that never would have come out had his father not sold him off.

         It was during these years that Edward first started attending divine services. He went with his sponsor’s family to church for the first time ever. He wrote later that he hadn’t even known there was a God. Another new avenue had been opened to him. Before entering this new phase of life, he had heard music from a variety of instruments people would bring into the pub and the harsh singing that went with it. Now, however, at divine services, he heard powerful music and words that thrilled his soul. In a very short time, he had come to Christ and his life added another layer of experience.

         Edward grew in talent, knowledge and faith. For a while he was content in the Church of England, but gradually wanted more than just High Church. He gravitated to the Baptist faith, for in that he saw a greater freedom of worship. It was at this time that he felt the Lord drawing him into the ministry. For a while he filled that need by working in a lay capacity, but soon that wasn’t enough. Finally, after thirty seven years as a respected and sought after cabinet maker, fifty year old Edward fully gave over to the Lord’s ministry.

         Almost immediately he was offered a church building. (This was common in England. Outside of the Church of England, the actual building was often owned by the minister.) Edward did not want that. At the time, he said, “I do not want the chapel, I only want the pulpit; and when I cease to preach Christ, then turn me out of that.”  He took the pulpit at the Rehoboth Baptist Church in Horsham, West Essex, England at the age of fifty five. He preached from that pulpit for twenty one years, never missing a single Sunday.

         He had developed a great love for music and had taught himself poetry. Later, in the pastorate, he didn’t have as much time to indulge himself in the music he loved. But while he was still working as a cabinet maker, he would write 109 hymns. Early on, he published them without his own name because he believed them to be of poor quality and did not want to embarrass himself. Apparently, he had more skill with lyrics than with titles. One song, written in 1834, was entitled “The Immutable Basis of a Sinner’s Hope.” Catchy, isn’t it?

         Actually, this is the hymn that this blog entry is about. In Matthew 16:18, Jesus says, “You are Peter and on this rock will I build my church.” Edward had also learned Greek (which was usual at that time) and he knew that ‘Peter’ meant little stones and he also knew that the rock Jesus was talking about was Jesus Himself. This was the inspiration for “The Immutable Basis of a Sinner’s Hope.”  

         Think of thirty seven year old Edward Mote in 1834, a successful craftsman, reflecting on his childhood of misery and depravation. The hopelessness he must have felt when his parents had no time for him and the fear when he was sold off. And as he contemplated these things and he could see the hand of God on him even in those dark days, he wrote these words;

1.    My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

o   Refrain:
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

2.    When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

3.    His oath, His covenant, His blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

4.    When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

May the Lord bless you all.

          On May 24, 2022, a gunman, just a kid himself, walked into a school in Uvalde, Texas and killed nineteen children and two teachers. Police response was apparently chaotic. The shooter was finally taken out by a border patrol agent carrying a borrowed shotgun. The agent was off duty. His wife was a teacher at the school and his young daughter was a student. His wife sent him a text, “Active shooter, help.” He borrowed a shotgun and rushed to the school. There he found confusion among the police, so he entered the building. When confronted with the shooter, he shot and killed him. The agent’s wife and daughter were uninjured, but the mental scars for them and many others will last forever.

         The president of the United States immediately began to call for more gun laws. Other politicians began to talk about it, as well. No one who has a bit of sense wants these killings to happen. I will tell you the truth; if gun laws can do it, I say get the laws on the books.

         Except gun laws cannot stop gun violence. It might make people feel better because they think they are accomplishing something, but they are only leaving people defenseless.

         Consider Chicago. Some of the strictest gun laws in the nation. Forty six people were shot this past weekend in Chicago. It wasn’t all in one location and it wasn’t a single shooter and it wasn’t a bunch of children so it wasn’t all over the news, but doesn’t forty six people count as a mass shooting in a city with really tough gun laws? If gun laws did the trick, Chicago should be safe enough to walk around with hundred dollar bills hanging out of your pockets. The shootings happened in various places around the city. One man was sitting in his living room watching TV when a stray bullet hit him. If it had just been a weird weekend, then you might be able to shrug it off. But this is common.

         It is not the guns.

         In Tulsa, a man walks into medical facility and opens fire. He had back surgery on May 19, just two weeks earlier, and he was still suffering pain, so he killed his doctor, one of his associates (also a doctor) and two other people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A shooter walks into a grocery store in Buffalo, New York and shoots thirteen people, killing ten. The Tulsa shooter was upset that he had pain two whole weeks later. It is quite common for there to be pain after just twos removed from back surgery. I don’t know how old the Tulsa shooter was, but both the Uvalde and the Buffalo shooters were eighteen. In all three cases, the weapons were handled by idiots…..OH, WAIT! That is politically incorrect! You cannot call someone an idiot! Unless they are white, gainfully employed and a Christian. Those people really are idiots and a threat to Americans everywhere.   

         But, whatever, if the guns are not at fault, what is at fault? It is becoming common today to talk about mental health and those places that sell guns screening customers for mental health issues. Really? How many among us are qualified to screen for mental health issues? If it is obvious, fine. If the gun customer has a carrot stuck in his ear, which he is talking to, you don't sell him a gun. However, if it were really easy to diagnose mental health problems, we would have all kinds of different politicians. Someone is diagnosed as having mental health issues only after much testing.

         This is crazy! If gun laws do not work and if only trained mental health professionals can detect most mental health issues, what can we do to curb the violence?

         In the last five days I have heard the phrase “declining church attendance” three times on various radio programs. Not in relation to the shootings, but for other reasons. It is an accepted fact of life in America. In many churches, social issues take precedence over Biblical practice and views. When the churches become like the world, what incentive is there for people to go to church? As the moral core of the nation rots away, what is left?

         You might not see it around you, or at least you might not recognize it, but it is there. More than that, it is here. Let’s look at the Yoke.

         Barry Swanquist presented a chart at our last carry-in that showed a steady decline in attendance over the last ten years. It goes back further, but ten years is a good barometer.  Now we are half of what we were ten years ago. There are a number of reasons why, and we asked for you folks to give us your thoughts about how to stop the decline. Barely any conversation at all. Our Youth group no  longer exists. What do we do about it? Barely any conversation at all. We are finally going to restart VBS this year after the pandemic nonsense. A one day program. Who will help? A small handful. That’s all. Mostly, when I ask people outright about their thoughts, I get “Well, it’s not just us. It’s like this everywhere.” It is like this everywhere, but that does not mean that Urbana Yoke Parish has to be like that. In the New Testament, the God fearing Christians were always pushing against the status quo. In the letter to the seven churches in the Book of Revelation, chapter 3, starting at verse 14, the Lord says that He knew the works of the Laodiceans. They were neither hot nor cold. Luke warm. And then in one of the most graphic moments in Scripture, in verse 16, the Lord says he would want to vomit them out of his mouth. The Greek word is ‘emeo’ and it may be rendered in a much milder way in your Bible, but it means vomit. Being middle of the road, being ho-hum about it all, is not pleasing to the Lord.

         Church attendance is down all over the country. Preaching and teaching is watered down to the point that there is no power and the church is failing. But it doesn’t have to fail. Christians do not have to fail. The Yoke doesn’t have to fail.

        If you can help with VBS, talk to Claud Newcomb. If you have thoughts on a Youth leader, talk to Chris Hann. If you want to talk about the decline in attendance, come talk to me. You may say that attendance does not reflect the Spirituality of a church, and you would be right to a point. But it is a symptom.

        Other than prayer, we cannot help those poor families in Uvalde or Tulsa or Buffalo. We can't help those people who are victims of mass shootings that happen weekly in Chicago and New York City. But we can start right here, at home, and reach into our own mission field.