(This blog was intended to be posted on Friday morning, but I suddenly came up without internet. Better late than never.)

    A late, cold October day. Wind coming out of the north. A misty rain. In spite of being wet, leaves are blowing around their feet from the wind blowing off the Lake. Two people walking along a path. Forty feet below, the waves of Lake Erie are striking the shore. Talking is difficult because of the noise, so the two walk mostly in silence. The one, buried in a coat that isn't warm enough, walks head down, wondering when this torment will end. The other, the older, in a light jacket, walks with head up, relishing the sounds, the smells, all the sensations. The younger turns to the older and says, raising a voice over the wind and surf, "You know, you could retire and enjoy this stuff all the time."

    My son hates this stuff. Why would anyone in their right mind want to go out on a cold, wet day to walk along a path so far above the Lake? And who really cares about the Lake, anyway? I, on the other hand, love walking along the lake on a cold October day. A little rain makes it perfect. My son grew up about twenty miles from where I grew up. Close in geography, but another planet as far as interests. To my son, electronics hold great fascination. He didn't watch much TV growing up. His nose was buried in a tech manual or in the guts of a computer. To me, big water was always the thing. The Great Lakes, the ocean, a great and mighty river rushing towards its mouth where it empties into a massive body of water. Two different fascinations. When Adam was growing up, I took him to electronic shows, which was so boring, and now he will go with me to the water, but it is more out of duty than anything else.  

    But the words spoken into my ear mixed with the sounds I love..."You know, you could retire and enjoy this stuff all the time." Those words stayed with me the rest of the day. I could drive down to the Lake very early in the morning. I could sit there and talk to God. I could spend time with old friends. I could watch my granddaughter grow up. I could go to a restaurant and not have to quiz the waiter or waitress on what foods contain pork. Thomas Wolfe said that you can't go home again, but I could.

    Yes, I could retire and enjoy this stuff all the time. Except, I don't want to do this thing. You folks of the Yoke no doubt feel that Wabash County is God's little slice of heaven here on earth and therefore cannot understand why someone would be drawn to somewhere else. But Northeast Ohio is home to me. Yet, I don't want to be home. I want to serve the Lord where He wants me to serve Him.

    Serving the Lord means getting out of your comfort zone. My comfort zone is Northeast Ohio. However, over twenty five years of my adult life have been elsewhere. Home has been where the Lord has put us. In the ministry, you can't plan on living in your comfort zone. If you are going to be serious about it, you have to be ready and willing to go.

    But that is the ministry. Full time service. What God has called me to do.

    So, does that mean I am called of God and you aren't? Do you have ministry? What are you called to do?

    What I have done with my life (and Marsha, too, for the great majority of it) is unusual. Think of the pastors and preachers you have known who have never served more than fifty miles from where they grew up. Yet, they also had to step out of their comfort zone in some manner. A comfort zone is that place where you feel at ease, a place where you can be content. The truth is, though, we do better work when we have to think and react and be alert. These are things we do outside the comfort zone.

    Well over half a century ago, two churches came out of their comfort zones and worked out a plan for the churches to survive. As time went by, the two congregations further went out of their comfort zones and drew closer together. Then, with a huge leap, the two congregations set the comfort zones aside and became one congregation. In one last act, the congregation settled into one worship center. Now the congregation could create a new comfort zone. First, though, it made sense to upgrade the worship time. Now the sweet rest of a comfort zone could happen. Except the pandemic came and it was necessary to go on line with worship videos. Now we can have that comfort zone! Whew! Quite the struggle! Only there is a new need. The comfort zone will have to wait. The life of the church is at stake again! The congregation has to react.

    (This next part I wrote early on Sunday morning.) 

    I drove too fast coming back from Ohio on Saturday. I constantly had to back away from 80 mph. I needed to get back. I wanted to get back. The church overwhelmingly voted to step out of their comfort zone yet again and do something that would have been unthinkable a short while ago. I really, really like being with people who respond to the Lord rather than what they think can be done.

    You know what? I think I am home!