They were not friends in the traditional sense. They were shipmates. An odd thing, that. John Porter liked nothing more than to get off the ship, the USS Douglas, on those rare occasions when she was in port. It wasn't a successful liberty until John and the other sailors he ran with had busted up a few bars, got in a couple of fights, drank more beer (or what passed for beer in the South Pacific) than a human being should be allowed and got arrested by the shore patrol. Now that was a fun liberty. Eddie Rowland liked to get off the ship, too, but he spent his time wandering the streets of whatever port they were in. He looked at the buildings, listened to the languages and watched the interactions between the people. After a liberty, John felt like he had died but didn't have the good sense to fall down. After his liberty, Eddie felt refreshed and alive.      

    But that didn't really matter at this point of the war. The Americans were pushing ahead and driving the Japanese back, closer and closer to their Home Islands. It had been six months since they had been in port. Refueling and resupplying at sea. Life on a destroyer was never comfortable, but given the pace they were moving now, it was unbearable. Always at battle stations, or so it seemed, the sailors stayed wet and miserable in the rough seas. Air attacks were common and the anti-aircraft guns seemed to always be firing or, when things had calmed down, being maintained. And this was where John and Eddie came together.

     They both served on a 75 caliber anti-aircraft gun. The rounds they fired were explosive shells and could really do a number on an incoming plane. But neither John nor Eddie ever sat in the gunner's seat. They were part of the fifteen man crew each of those guns required. John and Eddie were both loaders and therefore they worked closely together. It was here that they really got to know one another. John, the foul mouthed and vulgar stereotypical sailor and Eddie, the calm and easy going farm boy who never uttered a bad word. When under attack, the two men performed perfectly. When down time came and they were working on their gun, Eddie had a slow sense of humor that would get the entire gun crew laughing. Eddie's peaceful bearing began to rub off on the others. In a time of craziness, their gun was order and calm.

    And then came the Philippines and the Battle of Leyte Gulf. All the typical sailor knew was that they were going to the Philippines to drive the Japanese invaders out. It was looking like just another round against the enemy. The Douglas was part of an aircraft carrier task force and so their primary function was to protect the carrier. That is what the sailor knew. They didn't know they were sailing into the biggest naval battle in history. They didn't know the sprawling battle would actually be made up of four separate battles. They didn't know that this battle would involve over 200,000 men. The men of that gun crew knew only that their gun needed to fire and they needed to protect their carrier.

    Another thing they didn't know before the battle began was that this was the first time that the Japanese made use of suicide planes. Loaded with explosives, the planes would fly directly into American ships. The nasty war was about to get even nastier.

    As the battle progressed, the Douglas was strafed and, once, bombed. Debris was everywhere. Men were dead and dying. Still, the little ship was under power. Half the gun crew was dead or wounded and John and Eddie were working harder than ever. The gunner kept up a steady rate of fire in spite of vicious cut across his chest. Training was all that kept the gun alive.

    And then, John was thrown to the deck of the gun turret. He watched as a solid wall of fire raced just over him without touching. He saw the gunner not moving on the deck beside him and the gun itself twisted and broken. And there was Eddie, a look of surprise on his face, eyes wide open, but seeing nothing. Eddie would never see anything again. 

    The Douglas had been hit by a suicide plane. Damaged but still afloat, she drifted slowly out of the battle. Finally, a corpsman got to John and set about saving his life. It turned out that John was the only survivor of that gun crew. John was terribly injured and burned. The next day he was transferred to a supply ship to be evacuated. Eventually, after a couple of stops, the supply ship steamed into Pearl Harbor, where the injured could be properly cared for. It was at Pearl that John found out that his war was over. They found work for him to do, but he would never see combat again. Through some connections, he got the addresses of each of his gun crew and he wrote letters to the families telling them how brave their beloved ones had been.

    He mailed them all off, but he couldn't shake the thought of Eddie's family. The Rowland family had a farm in Illinois. Eddie talked of them all the time. John was from Pittsburgh and the idea of life on a farm seemed really nice. But now it was more than that. For some reason the thought of Eddie's parents, grieving for their son, tore at his heart. He just couldn't shake it.

    Because of his injuries, he was among the first discharged after the Japanese surrender. Back to Pittsburgh, he had to come to grips with the fact that he couldn't work in the steel mills. So, he decided to go to school. However, the idea of the Rowlands stayed in his mind.

    And so it was, in July 1947, he was driving an old, prewar Chevy across the flat lands of Illinois. Using the map, he located the nearest town to the Rowland farm and from there he got directions. His plan was to just go up to the door, quickly tell the Mom and Dad what a great guy Eddie had been and then get back in the clunker and drive away. He pulled into the drive and got out of the car, cane in hand. He was heading up the walk when the screen door slammed.

    He looked up. In the waning light he saw a tall, thin man coming down the porch steps. In that light he first thought it was Eddie, but no. This man was much older. A smile graced his weather beaten face. Behind him, still on the porch stood a tallish woman, somewhat plump, drying her hands on her apron. She, too, was smiling. The man came up to John, looked him in the eye and then wrapped him up in a hug. Then he turn to the woman, who was hurrying down the steps. "Look here, dear, its John!" She rushed to him and threw her arms about him. Then the two older folks hustled him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.

    "Just in time for supper! How about that?" She set about getting everything ready. Mr. Rowland sat down and just stared at him, tears in his eyes. John finally found his voice. "Uh, how did you know it was me. I didn't send a picture." Mrs. Rowland came in with food and sat down.

    "Johnny, we have been praying you would come. We knew you would be here soon. Pa even said this morning it would be today." John was confused. Yes, Eddie was a little different. Occasionally, when everything was quiet, he would have that little Gideon New Testament that they had all received, and he would be reading it. But John never figured him for some kind of religious nut.

    Mr. Rowland laughed. "It's true, Johnny. We knew you would come. See, Eddie sent us a letter about three and half years ago. In it he told us that they were going where the fighting was. He said that if he died, it was OK. He knew he was going to heaven. But he asked us to pray for a shipmate named John Porter. He said you didn't know Jesus and if you died, well, you would go from a shooting war to Hell. From that point on, me and Martha added you to our prayer time. Every morning and every evening we prayed for you. When we got word Eddie had died, we felt you were still alive. See, boy, we know we'll see Eddie again in Glory, but we know we needed to see you here in the flesh." John wasn't following well, so he said, "Why did you need to see me in the flesh?" Mrs. Rowland laughed. "Johnny, you kept me from going crazy with grief. We both knew we had a mission to finish, and that was to tell you about Jesus."

    John wound up spending the night, although there wasn't much sleeping. For the first time he heard of the grace of Jesus, he understood how Eddie had been so calm and collected and, about two o'clock in the morning, he learned what it meant to be freed from sin. In the morning, after a massive breakfast and a crushing hug from Mrs. Rowland and a firm handshake from Eddie's Dad (and promises to return to visit), John climbed into his old car and headed back to Pittsburgh. A new man.  

          Revelation 22:20, the second to last verse in the Bible, says; He who testifies to these things saith, says, I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. 

         Do you ever feel like that? Does it ever feel like the world has gotten so stupid that we would be better off if the march of time just ended? Being ready to die, even looking forward to it, is one thing. But thinking that it would be better if the Lord just came back now and stopped the nonsense is another thing.

         Last week a young man walked into the mall in Greenwood with a backpack on. Nothing unusual there. But in the backpack, he had a disassembled rifle. In a pocket he had a pistol. He went into a stall and assembled the gun. He was in the restroom for an hour and two minutes, supposedly getting himself psyched to do what he planned to do. Finally, he emerged onto the food court and began to fire his weapon. Another young man was in that area with his girlfriend. This young man had a conceal/carry permit and a registered handgun on his person. He pulled his weapon and shot the assailant dead. Some innocent lives were snuffed out by the assailant and two were injured, but there were two lessons that were taught on that food court. First, not all people who carry guns are dangerous and two, our state allows private citizens to carry concealed firearms. So, if you decide you are going to shoot a place up to gain fame, you will probably wind up dead. Whatever the assailant was thinking, whatever his motive, he was stupid. However, the ‘stupid’ didn’t end on the food court. A police spokesman called the young man who was defending himself, his girlfriend and lots of others, a good Samaritan. Those who oppose the conceal/carry laws could not condemn the young hero because he had saved lives. But they were appalled that he was called a good Samaritan. Why, they said, the story of the Good Samaritan was in the Bible and therefore should not be used to praise the young hero. I doubt that these people ever actually read their Bibles, or else they would know that the Good Samaritan was saving the life of someone who had been terribly injured by robbers who had beat him. (Very few things set me off like people who use the Bible to put forth their silly agendas.) And the ‘stupid’ continues. This week there was a protest outside the Supreme Court, protesting the decision to knock down Roe vs Wade. There is nothing wrong with this, even though I disagree with their thinking. It is a Constitutional right for American citizens to peacefully protest something they feel is wrong. However, this group began to block traffic, causing a bigger headache than normal for the terribly congested streets in DC. The Capitol police warned the protestors three times to get off the street. There was plenty of room off the street. Finally, the Capitol police had no choice but to start arresting violators. Sixteen of those arrested were United States Congressmen and women. Of course, on Twitter they claimed they were arrested because of the abortion protest. Some of them, when the cameras turned their way, put their hands behind their backs as though they were cuffed and being led away. The ‘stupid’ comes in when these Congressmen and women actually believe that this will win them votes and increase their prestige. Americans are not, as a whole, stupid, unless they want to be. Here are people who swore to uphold the Constitution and who were then doing so with a peaceful protest, but who began to break the law for no other reason other than for dubious political gain. Can Americans respect adults who play in traffic?

         Ah, but the ‘stupid’ does not end there. It is possible this year that the NCAA will name a transgender athlete as Female Athlete of the Year. I guess that makes sense in a society that allows a person to use whichever restroom they wish, so long as they identify with that sex that day. Then, there is the well known celebrity who was changed his gender from a man to a woman but still prefers women as sex partners. It is unreal.

         Here is something for those who were offended because someone desecrated the Bible by invoking the phrase ‘Good Samaritan.’ Isaiah 5:20-21-- Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter! Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and shrewd in their own sight! Of course, I do not need to point out to Bible scholars such as these what ‘Woe’ means in the Scripture. Someone who is twisting good for evil and who thinks that their foolishness is intelligence is in for some real trouble.

         Ninth floor of the Cleveland Clinic. One of my people was in with emergency surgery. It was night and it was pouring rain. I went to an observation room on the ninth floor, just to look out at the city for a bit. When I got there, there was a smallish man in a threadbare suit looking out the big window. I knew when I saw him that he was a pastor. I went up to him and we began to talk. He was from West Virginia and was there for a family in his church. He was almost never in a big city and just thought he would look for a bit. We stood there and talked for a while, this unassuming man and myself. I didn’t want to end the conversation, but we both needed to get back. However. I knew that I would probably never stand with such a man of God again. You could feel the Godliness in the man. A smallish man in a threadbare suit on the ninth floor of a hospital. Yet, he was God’s man.

         Why do we call political people our ‘leaders?’ They are supposed to work for us. And why do millions of people follow them when there are smallish men out there, wearing threadbare suits who are giants?                                        

          Miss Mary’s blog on Friday inspired me. Well, it got me to thinking. The power of words. I don’t like texting. Abbreviations like Idk and lol and fyi…that is not talking. It may be communicating on a low level. But it says “I don’t have time to really communicate, so here you go.” I suppose that is OK because you are not really communicating, anyway. Verbal communication or, at the very least, written communication, is the way to express yourself. Texting and e-mail abbreviations make me nuts. And to convey real feeling, one can resort to emojis. The first written language consisted of pictures that represented something. This evolved into the diverse and complete communication we can have today. Yet, we have fallen back into the primitive. We call it emoji.

          Miss Mary talked about the word ‘love’ and said it is something we throw around lightly. Its meaning is diluted. It doesn’t carry the weight it should. As I thought about it I realized that I have come to use the word almost not at all. I might say I love dogs or I love a good Subway sandwich, but used in that way, one understands. (Although, for future references, on my birthday I really do enjoy Subway gift cards. Just sayin’…) But I don’t use it toward people. Some years ago one of our Youth, whom I had watched grow up, said or did something that was funny. I was next to her and I put my arm around her shoulder and laughed and said, “Girl, I love you!” She took that the completely wrong way. She went and told one of our ladies, who quietly explained how I was using the word. Yes, words do have power.

          Many of us are familiar with the four Greek words for love found in the New Testament. In the language there are actually seven words, but only four used in the Bible. Agape is often said to be God’s love toward us. This is true, but it also occurs between two people. It is the highest and most noblest form of love, so it is possible between two people. To put its usage into perspective, it is the most common word for ‘love’ in the New Testament, but it is the least used in all other Greek writing. Then we have Phileo, which we tend to say means ‘brotherly love.’ And it can mean that, but there is another word just for that. This word means extreme fondness and is sometimes used in conjunction with Agape. The next word is Storge and this more refers to family type love. To denote a favored family member, it is coupled with Phileo, as in philostorgos. And the last word is Eros and refers to ‘sexual passion. These are the four words of the New Testament. If you said “I love you” to someone in Greece, they would know exactly what you mean. Now, if we say “I love you” to someone in English, it can be misinterpreted. English is a great language for things technical and practical, but not so much about expressing one’s self.

          As I thought on these things, I thought about the Hebrew. It did not come to my mind what the word for ‘love’ was in the Hebrew, but Hebrew is a very expressive language. The words for ‘love’ would likely be beautiful. So I got my smart references out (this is where I go when I want to appear smart, so don’t be fooled) and began to look. It turns out that there are places in the English Bible where the word ‘love’ is used but this is often used to convey a feeling that we have no real word for, or at least didn’t have in the 15^th and 16^th centuries when the first English translations were being made. But there is a single word for ‘love’ in Hebrew and, oddly enough, it is pronounced as luv. I find that interesting. This word means ‘loyalty.’ Jacob loved Rachel (was loyal to her) so much he worked for her for seven years. And when he was tricked, he worked another seven years.

          This is what I think. I think I will Agape God and luv in other instances. I just really like the idea of love meaning loyalty. In the Old Testament, loyalty was in short supply. Food was scarce, clothing hard to come by, life was hard. To say you would be loyal to someone said a lot.

          Wow, Miss Mary! Words do have power! You can’t express that with an emoji!

          In 1994 we found out that Marsha was going to have to learn how to use a computer at work, so she was going to have to go to Cleveland three times a week for classes. This would last for twelve weeks. She went into a panic. In a classroom situation, Marsha would go blank. In seminary she would come home from classes in tears because she didn’t understand. She started the year after me, and she was taking some of the courses I had already taken, so we would sit down and go through it all again. One on one, she was fine. Even the courses I had not taken, I just read the material to her and then she was fine. It was just the classroom thing.

          So now she was going to have to take classes again. “You are going to have to help me!” Ten years earlier, while in school, I had answered an ad for someone with computer experience. Sure, I had experience. I had done some data entry. Easy stuff that a well trained monkey could do. They hired me. It was a company that was going to be switching over to computer for every aspect of their operation. They already had the new computers. They gave me ten large binders and told me I had to program the computers for each phase and it needed to be done in six months.

          For those who don’t remember, people were terrified of computers back in the day. We had all read about these highly trained technicians who ran the computers in the secret base dug out of a mountain that controlled the nation’s nuclear strike capabilities. Practically no one wanted to touch the things. My little bit of data entry made me an expert in the field. And when they told me I would be programming, that is what they meant. The computers were empty of information. There was something called DOS, which enabled you to write a program without using binary code. (I believe DOS stood for Dumb Operating System) All the information I needed was in those three inch binders. Probably the worse six months of my life.

          In the ten years since I had programmed those computers, great strides had been made. Marsha was going to need to know Excell, the first beginnings of Power Point and half a dozen other programs. I knew nothing of these things. I had come to hate computers ten years earlier and had said we would never have one in our home. But, without a computer at home, I would not be able to help her. She really liked her job and it was going to be a shame if she lost it, but I saw no other way. But then our son came home from school with a note that said the next school year the kids were all going to be learning basic computer skills and it would help immensely if there was a computer in the home. Now I was discouraged. Marsha and Adam were excited because we were going to get a computer, but I was not happy at all.

          As I recall, there was no Office Max or Staples or Best Buy or Circuit City. There was Radio Shack. They were going to kill you in price. Or, you could go to K-mart. At K-mart there was this geeky kid who really knew a lot. He said we could buy the basic system, which came with all the programs Adam would need, and then buy and add the programs Marsha would need and it would be slightly cheaper than buying one with everything already in it. The computer probably had less computing power than my current, dirt-cheap cell phone, but it cost better than two thousand dollars more. Marsha’s continued employment and Adam’s school work. They were thrilled. I sat down and signed all the paperwork for the loan and we went home. The thing had to be delivered because no one kept that kind of thing in stock. Marsha created a nest for the computer and a week later there were several boxes on the floor in the spare bedroom, which was now our first computer room.

          Hooking it up was a major thing. As yet there was no color code hook up. And there was no plug and play. To attach the monitor and mouse, you had to plug it in and then go through this other program to install each item. To hook up the printer you had to install a floppy disc and follow instructions. But, finally, after several hours, we gathered around as a family and pushed the button. Whirring noises, little clicks, cooling fans coming on. And then the monitor lit up. Whoa! We were computerized!

          Except the monitor told us to input the password to continue. Password? Why? Were we going to have control over those nuclear missiles after all? We didn’t need a password! But we needed one to proceed. The computer was not going to be hooked up to that thing called the internet, but we needed a password.

Out came the instructions. There, on page 1,456 were the paragraphs that explained how to set up a password. We followed the instructions and then got to the point of selecting a password. The instructions said to pick a unique word or series of letters, but would also be easy to remember. We all sat down and brainstormed. (by that time, not much of a storm) Then Adam ran and grabbed the wireless phone. He ran back and said, “Wait a minute. OK, type in 9233!” I did that and the computer accepted it. “OK, son, what does that have to do with the phone?” “It’s the numbers that spell out WADE!” And so, 9233 was our password for a long time. Even when passwords had to get more complicated in order to satisfy the increasingly security conscience computer and internet needs, we still used some variation of 9233.

In time, though, it has become more complicated. So many numbers, so many letters, so many special characters. 9233 finally went into the memory of our minds.

Wouldn’t it be the pits if we had to give a password to the Lord? What would your password be? What would satisfy Him? It is a good thing that all we need is a contrite heart and a desire for forgiveness.

Matthew 11:28-30; ²⁸ Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. ²⁹ Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”       

         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.