The Piecework of Ministry

The pastoral ministry is like a patchwork quilt.

Our grandmothers and great-grandmothers were quilt makers. They saved scraps left over from dress patterns and bits and pieces acquired elsewhere and turned them into items that provided comfort and beauty.

When you and I, as pastor's wives, reflect on our years in the pastorate, we can identify with the pattern of those long-ago quilts.

In the first squares, we see the hesitating stitches of the first pastorate, the brilliant color swatches of youthful zeal and high hopes.

In the later design, we contemplate the pastel-shaded blocks that represent new babies and the parenting years.

Then come the dotted and striped patterns of new ideas our husbands so exuberantly introduced to the congregation.

Further inspection shows us the dark tones of disappointment and trials, and maybe a few patches of double-knit fabric with its stubborn texture and bland personality -- we've all had seasons of life like this!

Scattered throughout are color bursts of bright hue that tell the story of good times -- pastor appreciation days, retreats, campmeetings, family vacations, souls recovered and discipled. The mix of bright and dark forms a pattern as complex as the realities of life.

Yes, someday, you and I will examine the design of our ministry patchwork with awe -- for then we will see the plan of the Master and observe unmistakably that the thread of His presence encompasses each carefully-chosen section of our lives.

Site will be updated after Inter-Church Holiness Convention!

Today was a sunny Sabbath.....

I just adore sunny Sundays. Though God never changes the Scriptures tell us, the sun beaming down seems like a heavenly smile that blesses His special day.

Sundays are a celebration of all that is good. Faith, family, feasting. God created this special day just for us, so that we could revel in His blessings, take a break from labor, and lift our worship to Him.

Soak up these words from Ecclesiastes 3:13 "And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God."

Every good thing comes from Him. And a sunny Sunday is one of them. Thank you, Lord.

May the glorious power of our risen Lord
rest on you as you lead in worship today.

His death brought our redemption.
His life gives us hope.
His presence is with us always.

Happy Easter

Easter Hoppers

"Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

That's what my grandfather said preachers should use as a sermon text when they behold the congregation in their Easter finery!

The Easter phenomenon is about to take place. Like tulips finding out that there is life above the ground, many people suddenly discover that there is still a church in town and decide to make their Easter appearance.

Similar to Easter bunnies, they hop in, sniff the air a bit, and settle down for an hour. Then, with a twitch, they scuttle back out into the big open world.

Like all of you, we're glad to take the "hoppers" when they come. But how much better it would be if they could understand that all the carrots Satan dangles before their nose are nothing compared with the garden of God's grace available all the time. And He doesn't tease us with grace -- He gives it abundantly. That's certainly a better existence than dodging Mr. McGregor's pitch fork throughout life! (maybe you better re-read The Tale of Peter Rabbit......)

Sunday Dinner -- the Zenith of Parsonage Meals

Somewhere in the annals of Christendom, it was decreed that Sunday dinner was to be the best meal of the week. And all the preachers eagerly agreed.

As long as I can remember, Sunday dinner was always a big deal. I remember hearing family members talk about Sunday dinners of long ago (and how they had so many guests that the children, who ate last in those days, would often only get the pickin's). I recall many a Lord's Day where we gathered around my mother's fabulous homemade meals, always with hot yeast rolls and many times, steaming mashed potatoes. These times were warm, seeming to enfold my brothers and me in the embrace of our parents, our Heavenly Father, and the assurance that there was food from Mom's kitchen and a bright future for us all. Sometimes the district superintendent and his wife were visiting our church and the table was extra special and there was a luscious dessert as well.

There were other days when our church work placed us in revivals/campmeetings on Sundays or maybe it was one of those Homecoming Sundays in the South. On these grand occasions, we shared Sunday dinner with other families in "dinner-on-the-ground." Maybe it was a dining hall, maybe a picnic shelter, or maybe just folding chairs in a circle and some tables holding foil-wrapped casserole dishes -- but, however it was presented, it was always the very best every family could offer. Each cook usually brought her signature dish -- baked macaroni and cheese or fried chicken or pecan pie or chocolate cake. If it was the home church, you knew what to look for -- "Did Sister Jones bring her cornbread salad today?" The men loaded their plates and, with looks of bliss, retreated to their chairs to eat with the other husbands, who cared more for what their wives had cooked than for conversation. The women pulled back plastic wrap, stirred up the vegetables, shooed the flies, corrected the children and asked for each other's recipes while they ate, sometimes sitting, sometimes standing (women multi-task everywhere!) The children ate as little healthful food as possible, sneaked rolls, and gorged on desserts in this heavenly freedom from the "clean plate club." Church dinners are a glorious institution.

These days, dinners on Sunday are still a reason to celebrate:
~ the grace and goodness of God and the sacred day He has given to us
~ His provision of food and the skill to prepare it
~ the gift of family and friends who share the meal

It is true that one does not need to indulge in a bountiful Sunday meal to make the day special. In fact, the cook might be more rested if she served soup or sandwiches. But, the tradition of saving the best for the Sabbath seems somehow appropriate. Traditionally, we have worn our best clothing on Sunday and reserved our best behavior for the sanctuary (at least we teach our kids this!). It just seems to make sense that we share the grandest of our culinary efforts with our families on the day we also give our best worship to the Father. It fits. And be it roast beef or chicken or meatloaf, it tastes great when Dad says the Sunday blessing and little hands that drew pictures in Sunday School now are folded for a quiet moment. Mom breathes a sigh or relief -- another Sunday triumph.

The Game of Pastoring

Being in ministry is like a shelf of board games. If you're tired of the one you're playing, sit tight, the next one is about to start..........

Sometimes, it's a game of Scrabble where you're trying to find the right words.

Other times, you feel like you're playing Guesstures and just going through the motions.

There are days when the church resembles a Checker board with everyone jumping around.

And there come days when the game of Taboo would most accurately describe your mood.

Well, some weeks, it seems like you're playing a round of Clue, searching for the answers.

We all dread the times when it seems like checkmate on the Chess board.

And, above all things, we dislike the days when the parsonage feels eerily like a game of Battleship, with missiles spraying the water all around us.

Thank the Lord there are those refreshing times when the pastorate really does remind us of Candyland -- a place of sweet rewards and victories.

The greatest aspect of it all is that God holds all the gamepieces in His hand. And He knows all the strategies we need to stay in the game. In the end, He gives the crowns.