Dear Story

 

May the journal of your life be filled with awesome wonder.

Dear Story,                                                                                                May 19, 2025

I love the name your mom and dad found for you: Story Joyce Walker.

You are a child with abundant promise, your own story yet untold, and it is being written day by day. Even as a young child, not much older than a babe, you will find your Way in God’s story. That is the higher road you will walk – finding the path our Lord has for you rather than writing God into your biography.

It seems that you are destined to share amazing narratives that will touch the hearts of your friends and the people you meet as you wend your way along the roadways, paths, and thoroughfares God takes you. Even when it feels like you are being taken where there are no roads, you will know you are being led by the author and finisher of our faith, Jesus Christ. Knowing your parents, I am certain those out-of-the-way places without trails will be awesome, if unexpected. And the stories you share along the way help those who listen.

It was no coincidence that your first visit to church was a Communion Sunday. You will grow and develop on the Bread of Life, and you will be sustained by his blood, the fruit of the vine.

There is something special between two people when one is named for, or in honor of, another. You have a tie with your great-grandmother Joyce that goes beyond the genetic connection. I believe it will be a great blessing to you both. There is Joy in your names, I love it!

Now, about this being a little sister – it is likely to be an untamed part of your journey; one minute warm and cozy, the next stormy and cold. I recommend gravitating toward staying warm and safe. It will help you through those parts of life that can be hard on you. Lake can be a great anchor when things get stormy.

You will find characters in your biography who will be friends from your first couple of chapters through the end of the book. There will be characters who appear for short and significant periods. Hold on to them. Try not to mourn when they are not with you and remember how pleasant and delightful they are; awesome friends never really leave us.

Your quiet demeanor will calm those with worried hearts. Your vivacious side will light up rooms with joy. Your rapt attention to people who talk with you will ease their loneliness. People who watch you play with others, hug others, or even while you are by yourself, will know God is nearby.

Your name, Story, has some interesting roots and meanings. One source of the name is Old Norse (a language your mom and dad can explain about), and it means “large” or “big”. I can see the tie to your person in this because I believe you’ll have a big heart, and that will be where Jesus lives and where people will see these wonderful things about you. Someday, I am sure your folks will share how they came upon your name. In any case, I believe it fits.

Our God is many things, huge, and has many aspects about him. He is the Creator, Love, the Great Healer, the Good Shepherd, the Provider, the Prince of Peace, and he is present. He provides wisdom, love, grace, forgiveness, and life itself. The Bible tells us that we are created in God’s image, so I believe we each have a measure of all those aspects of God. I am looking forward to seeing how Jesus shows himself in you. It will be spectacular.

I am forever in His grip. Blessings,

Jerry White

 

Dear Chrissy

Dear Chrissy,

How can the sun be shining? That is what I asked myself this morning as I hiked up the mountain with Todd. It seems to me that the day should have been overcast, drizzling, and dreary, and more befitting of my feelings since getting the news of your going home. Once I got over my indignity at the sun for such an outrage and disgust at the gentle breeze that cleared the way for me to see the ocean, I could see that this was the perfect day for your homecoming. I know that you were greeted by Jesus with, "Welcome home, good and faithful servant. Well done."

I have missed you these past weeks. There will be an empty spot that, thankfully, Jesus will need to fill and most assuredly will. At your darkest hours, you can make me feel blessed and warmly received. I felt like a rock star whenever we saw each other, all because I had the good fortune of spending a little extra time with your kids, which was a huge blessing to me.

Austin and Nicole have been at the center of your world, they were two of your reasons to hold on as long as you could. I don't believe you feared death but instead were possessed by a fierce desire to live, to see your kids well on their way in life, to hold on to Todd for as long as possible, and to be there for your friends while you were about the business of the Kingdom of God. After all, we have only a short time here with our loved ones and an eternity with Jesus. You thirsted for life; indeed, you thirsted for The Life, and I know you found it and shared it unabashedly.

Grief will visit us. It will be sharp and poignant for your family and the closest of your friends. It will come to them in waves. Some waves will lap at their feet and be gentle reminders of all you are to them: your kindness and love and your ability to make them the center of your universe. Some waves will try to overwhelm them, and we'll need to stand with them to ensure they are not swept out to sea. God's grace is sufficient, and He will provide.

I know that for myself, I asked, "Why Christine? Why was there no miracle healing?" Honestly, I've been a bit miffed. Others will feel the same. I went down that deep dark path years ago with a friend when I held on to my anger far too long, so long that it turned to bitterness and that bitterness separated me from my Lord. I caution folks to let the anger go, hold on to the love with their big hearts, and let God be God. We may never know his purpose in our losses. He must be enough for us.

I will continue to be sad for myself, sad for that marvelous core group of friends of yours, and sadder still for Todd, Nicole, and Austin. But I will also spend a lot of time marveling at nature and the lush green pastures and the valleys you now have with their lakes and streams, and I will praise the name of Jesus that I have the good fortune to call you my friend.

In His grip,

Jerry

PS – I have taken the liberty of scanning some of the comments from your friends and family and have listed some that ring particularly true to me here. Some of these are only a piece of what they wrote, some are all. At last count, there were 180 comments on the family post at this writing and these are but a few:

From Phil Van Horn, "Brokenhearted and inspired…all at the same time."

From Alfred Berumen, "I share your grief for someone with such a beautiful soul. Chrissy was always a gem of delight and personality and she had fabulous "Hair Pirate" hair. We all loved her so much. Peace and strength sent to your family."

Sarah Rush: "I'm sending you all my most heartfelt love and will be praying for you. I was heartbroken to hear the news of precious Chrissy's passing last night. I've prayed so fervently for her the last 5 years. I know she's with Jesus, but my heart is so heavy. God bless you dear ones."

Karen Gee McAuley, "We are so blessed to have known and loved her. We will remember her, full of love, light and baked goods to rival a pastry chef, her sense of humor and humanity. God called her home and while we miss her so much, we are grateful that she is finally at peace."

Lisa Li: "What a loss, such a ray of sunshine no matter the clouds. May she fly high as know she would."

Jennifer Horn: "Such an amazing woman filled with so much sparkle…"

Alice Hill: "My heart breaks while her soul finds peace. I know she is in the loving arms of our Lord, with no more pain and no more fear, only love. She will be missed by everyone left behind, because she was truly one of the special ones. Her loving spirit lit up a room as soon as she walked in and I am sure heaven felt that amazing spirit when she arrived."

Sue Volz Peters: "I'm so very sorry to read this news! Chrissy was a bright beacon of light!"

Sharon Marks Boudreaux-Stam: "I'm so sorry for your loss. She was such a beautiful person inside and out."

Michele Hetherington Fernandez: "We love you all so much & our lives have been forever changed from having Christine & your family in them."

Greg Stoney: "I'm so gutted. Such a sweet human taken from us much too early. I feel honored to know her…"

Amanda Minkey Granier: "Gonna miss my sweet friend so much  but so blessed to have had her in my life for so many years. I will cherish our times together, our laughs, our cries, our talks and everything in between."

She was truly one of a kind and touched so many hearts! She loved loved her family and was so proud of all of you!

Terry Kappen: "OMG!!! I am shocked to hear this news! My heart is breaking! I am so sorry Todd, Nichole, and Austin. Chrissy fought the long fight. She trusted God to see her through this for 5 years and never gave up. She now can have the peace she and everyone that loves her have been praying for. She was the kindest, God-fearing person I knew, she had helped me through many of trials in my life."

180 and counting…

Holm is Where the Heart Is

 

Isaiah 43:2 - “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown.”

In my last Calvary’s Thread post, ‘Adrift’, I wrote about drifting along the current of a river without tiller or oar and speculated that I might be able to lean over and hand paddle my along. Jim McClelland suggested in a comment that by hopping in I could “enjoy the truths of the discoveries along this particular journey.” Part of my reply to Jim was that I am more effective as a swimmer than a drifter, or something along those lines. As effective as I can be while propelling myself along the river of life, I need respite from the currents and chills of the water. I need rest and a place to do it. I believe I found such a place and I know of a handful of others. Holm.

Holm, as Webster describes it, is a small island or inshore island. It’s a British term and those folks seem to have cornered the market for alternate words for an island such as: ait as in ‘a little island’ or eyot a variation on ait. I prefer ‘holm’ to the alternatives, it feels warmer and more inviting to me.

When my sister Denise moved to Merlin, Oregon and shortly thereafter my parents, we took summer trips to visit them nearly every year and with few exceptions, rafted down the Rogue River. For twenty-five years we took these floats using inflatable kayaks, paddle rafts, and drift boats. We encountered small islands, or holms, along the way downstream. They provide sanctuary for birds to nest to be safer for their eggs and young. Canada Geese, Mergansers, Teals, Mallards, and other waterfowl use the island to pull up on and sun to restore body heat and to nest. Songbirds and waders (Green and Great Blue Herons, and various Egrets) wade off the holms to hunt for fish and frogs. The islets are not Edens as there is predation from the sky from eagles and hawks. Otters, playful as they are, eat pretty much what they can catch. Still, there is a measure of sanctuary and peace, the birds can breathe and relax a bit.

Bass Lake, the ancestral home of my mom, has a couple of islands – one toward the upper third of the lake where the Madera County Sheriffs operate from. The other island is down near the dam. Both islands are submerged when the lake is full with the only evidence as either the Sheriff’s tower or the vegetation sticking up above the water. Likewise, both islands are accessible by walking when the lake is at its lowest point. The island near the dam is bisected by a boom, in the old days of true log construction but nowadays made of rubber coated tubes filled with floatation materials. Nearly from the day we could walk we would see how far we could get before falling off the boom and into the lake. It became a rite of passage when we could swim along the boom out to the island or take our inflatable rafts to it. These were our Huck Finn moments.

My dad and I sometimes rowed out and fished around the island. I miss those times of quiet conversation as we tried to lure trout and bass to our hooks. Whenever I see the island, I remember those times and I am warmed by the memories of them. It is a holm to me.

A week ago, as I wrote this, I was at holm with Jim and Shirley McClelland, free of the river’s currents, rapids, and rocks. A place of peace and sanctuary. I feel at home at their place, always. I rode my motorcycle up to see them, hang out with Jim with his various errands, and take in a Giants’ game at Oracle Park. As arduous as my ride up was (I’ll need to write that story for Iron Side Up) I needed a place to catch my breath. The ride provided me space to think and pray about things and then push them away to pay attention to the road. With Jim and Shirley, it is as though no time has passed and we pick up where we left off. I love them for it.

Mike and Van Schermerhorn’s place is another holm, and island of respite. The last time I was with them I had rented a trailer to help Mike move a patio set to a friend of theirs in need. As with Jim, it seemed that no time had passed and we picked up where we last saw each other. Mike and Van bought lunch for me which we had shared with friends of theirs. They needn’t have, the warmth in sharing in their kindness was more than enough payment. I love them for it.

My sisters’ places and kids’ homes are places we stay that offer the same sort of comforts of love, joy, and peace – they are places to rehab my soul. Holms in the river, though with the grandkids the times are more otterlike than completely restful.

My prayer for you, my encouragement to you, is that you find your holms. And those that you already know, pay them a visit and heal a bit from the rush and keep a weather eye out for new holms.

In His grip,

jerry

Biblical river references:

Psalms 46:4 - "There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High."

Revelation 22:1-2 - "Then the angel showed the river of the water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb."

Genisis 2: 20 - “A river flowed from the land of Eden, watering the garden and then dividing into four branches.”

Adrift

 

Living waters have a current, an ebb and flow to them, sometimes unseen, as from a hidden wellspring, a source beyond the ken of human senses. Living waters are not distilled nor sterile. The currents bringing them to the ponds and headwaters contain nutrients, the outgoing currents take the waste of the living organisms downstream to be consumed by still other creatures or cast of in the effervescence of the streams.

The waters I seem to be on are not some stagnant pond, putrid with waste and polluted by mankind. And so, adrift as I am, I have at least this one thing left, that my oft used sign off, ‘in His grip’, is still true and that whatever landfall my drift takes me, I will have my feet on firm soil.

Adrift appears an apt turn for this stage of life I find myself. Meriam (we are on a first name basis now) talks about adrift as being without motive power and having no anchor or mooring, ties, guidance or security. I am uneasy with these things. I’m an old man, for God’s sake! Shouldn’t I have the power to direct my life, activities, and interests?

By what mechanism have I become adrift, without sail and subject to every current and vagrant wind? By my own devices? Have others cast me into this drift? Let me be honest with myself – I have no one to blame but myself. I pushed off into the stream without proper provisions.

I shouldn’t be rudderless, without oars or a motor these days. I’m a Christian. But I am in the water’s power and subject the vagaries of the stream with its rocky outcroppings, rapids, and glassy stretches. I am consumed with sadness, not as acute as Jesus’ sadness in the garden of Gethsemane, but at times it feels akin to that.

I have a distinct memory from my childhood when my mom and a friend of hers took my sisters, the friend’s son, Dennis Broberg, and me up to Switzer’s Creek in the Angeles National Forest. Dennis and I took our army men and equipment. You know, like those great characters from the Toy Story movies? We set up roads and fortifications. We collected twigs and fashioned rafts for water-born assaults. The prone machine gunners were particularly good for the rafts. We set them adrift in the creek in the hopes they could get behind enemy lines. Adrift and without rudders, they invariably ran afoul of some driftwood collected between the rocks. My own drift sometimes feels like the ill-fated infantryman’s.

Still, I am in His grip and when it comes to it and I am caught by the eddies that thwart my progress, I can risk it and reach over the side and hand-paddle my way out. Firmer ground awaits and who knows what stranded wayfarer I might bring into my raft and take to safety along the way.

To borrow a phrase from Ellis Boyd "Red" Redding, “I hope”.

In His grip,

Jerry White

It is a Pilgrimage

 

Photos courtesy of my Storyblocks subscription

I have been consulting with my friend Webster about the word ‘journey’. The word is all around us these days and I’ve thought about it quite a bit but recently two young friends lost their mother and referred to their experience with her failing health into home-hospice care to its conclusion as a journey.

Now, Noah and the Merriam brothers have given me some formal meaning to journey. As a noun, three descriptions: 1 – Something suggesting travel or passage from one place to another, 2 – an act or instance of traveling from one place to another (trip), and 3 – in a chiefly dialectal sense, a day’s travel. As a verb, intransitive and transitive respectively – to go on a journey or to travel over or through. They go on to give me all sorts of great information about the word but that’s not my point and I don’t want to derail my thoughts.

Journey is an apt and excellent word to use when describing path taken with a loved one from hale and hearty through illnesses and their treatments to hospice and working hard to graciously escort the loved one to end of their time on earth.

My problem with the use of journey is not in their usage but in the banal use of the word for everything from a person’s rise to stardom from the ashes of poverty (not a bad place for the word) down to their ‘journey’ to the pet store for cat litter. Since when did the commonplace act of getting into the car, driving to the pet store, waving their Apple Pay at the device, and coming home with cat litter become a journey? Unless the person got in a wreck, was arrested for dangerous driving or maybe got into a road rage incident, and barely made it home alive and just in time for the cat, it was not a journey. And even then, there are more apt and exciting language to use for those types of things. We have cheapened the word ‘journey’ with overuse and stale thinking.

My trek for a descriptive word for what we go through as my young friends have done took me from Webster and friends to Roget and on through basic internet searches. I won’t overload you all with the many alternatives I have come across, that is for your own excursion. I’ll get right to the word that struck paydirt for me – pilgrimage.

Pilgrimage, defined by Merriam-Webster as a noun is: 1 – a journey of a pilgrim, especially one to a shrine or a sacred place, or 2 – the course of life on earth. It works as a verb as in, go on a pilgrimage. For the Christian, or any religious order believing in an afterlife or next-life, pilgrimage works wonderfully. For the atheist, not so much – there is only life, then death and whatever good the body is put to afterwards. Alas, no sacred place for them so not too much of a pilgrimage.

When we accompany someone along the inexorable path of life that leads from living to the doorstep of the next life, whether if be as a family member, a friend, or as a nurse or volunteer at a center to people previously unknown to them, we have been given one of the deepest of privileges. It is an honor to serve as a guide, a companion, or even as a crutch to a person on their last leg of the pilgrimage of life. It is crushing to hold their hand as they breath their last and hear someone say, ‘she’s gone’. Crushing until we can sit back and understand the courtesy we’ve been afforded by being present when our companion is in ultimate rest after so much pain. Better to have held their hand than to have had them taken from our presence only to pass away a short time later.

If we are tasked with walking side by side with someone in the final stages of their pilgrimage, we need resources to draw from – other friends, family members, and a higher power – in my case and in the case of the two young friends I wrote of at the beginning of my post, Jesus Christ whom we know greets our loved ones and welcomes them home.

While considering these things, I have come to a better understanding of what I went through with my mom and dad a few short years ago. I see it now in a more favorable light as though a photographer of great artistic talent captured the true nature of their subject. It’s easier on the eyes and warmer in the heart to believe their pilgrimage was successful. I am more thankful now for the courtesy afforded to me by my Lord to have been alongside my folks to see them home.

I hope and pray that this helps my friends find a greater measure of peace when they read this as I hope it does other readers. May God grant that this reaches the mark.

With peace in my heart and I in His grip,

jerry

Laura's Challenge

 

On Sunday May 5, 2024, Rev. Dr. Laura Harbert delivered a sermon from her heart titled “We Become What We Behold!” I have found that when I write from the heart, that is when I am at my best and I appreciate when others do the same. Laura brought God’s word to us through her cornerstone verse:

2 Corinthians 3: 17-18 – “¹⁷Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. ¹⁸And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” (NIV)

We are being transformed from what are into something we are not now. This is always the case throughout life and the transformative power comes from that which we behold, what we consume, what we take into ourselves. If we consume hate and falsehood, we become the purveyors of hatred, loathing, and lies. If we come to the Lord’s Table with repentance in our hearts and consume the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal. 5: 22) – then this is what we will become.

To achieve this, to become more like Christ, I need to humbly and in repentance, keep myself on the Potter’s Wheel so that he can continue to transform this lump of clay more clearly into his image.

Reverend Laura’s challenge to me is to make a list of where I behold God’s Glory and to reflect on those things. Okay, she didn’t phrase it as a challenge but instead said, “This would be one homework assignment I would love to give each one of you. Make a list of where you behold God’s Glory. Who are the people who show you God’s Glory? What are the places that stir up God’s Glory? What are the things, where do you behold God’s Glory?” Me, being a recovering jock, have taken this as a challenge and my reply follows this link to her sermon if you would like to be touched and transformed:

Sermon 5–5-2024 “We Become What We Behold!” by Rev. Laura Harbert (youtube.com)

These are some of the places, things, and people that allow me to behold God’s Glory:

V I see Jesus in the smile of my children and their children and in the trust in their eyes. That is the spiritual fruit of love.

V I see God’s hand in a failed project that touches someone’s heart despite my failure. This is God’s grace and the spiritual fruit of faithfulness.
V My Lord speaks to me when a young teen, covered in dust, concrete, paint, and sweat smiles and can’t wait to do it again. This is faithfulness and joy in His goodness.
V He whispers to me when I hear the symphony played by nature’s orchestra – the rustling of leaves, gurgling of the brook, calling birds, and solitude. This fruit of the spirit is peace.

V I sense his presence while being part of a well ridden series of ess-turns by a group of expert riders. That is the spiritual fruit of joy.
V I feel God near me when I see the bonds of an old grudge against man or God broken. This is the faithfulness of the Great Healer.
V Seeing someone deep into solitude touches my heart with Jesus’ kindness.
V I hear God’s voice in Cindy’s laughter as it drifts into the office or upstairs while she’s on the phone or with friends or family. This one thing is the fruit of joy, love, and goodness.
V My kids in love show me God’s love for us all, for God is love.
V Cynene. She is all the fruits of the Spirit…
V I am transformed by the flight of a red-tailed hawk, my every-man bird, and hearing its call of joy and exhilaration. When I look at the intarsia hawk my dad me and read his inscription, “Together in His grip”, I am reminded of God’s goodness and mercy.
V I see God presence in Jim’s laughter, Michael’s wit, and Doug’s indominable loyalty – the love of friends of the past, present, and future are all the fruits of the spirit.
V Any chance encounter with one of God’s creatures speaks of himself.

V The unsolicited ‘good morning’ from a fellow walker, hitherto unknown to each other, reminds me of Jesus oneness. Perhaps the response to the smile and look of wonder on my own face as I think on this list is what inspired them to offer up the ‘good morning’.
V The turn of a good phrase like, “Fear not, for I am with you” (Isaiah 41:10) excites me to write. That is faithfulness.
V Seeing a scraped knee tended to by a parent, sibling, teacher, or even a stranger screams of Jesus’ gentleness and kindness.

For as long as I live, I won’t be able to list them all and, as you can see by my collage, there is room for more and blanks have been left in anticipation.

Make your own list, create your own collage, and dwell on those things where you behold His Glory.

In His grip,

jerry

Psst...Trust Me

  

She'll run like a charm, trust me.

Psst…Trust Me

Early in 2021, I was one of nine individuals who were asked and accepted a nomination to be elected to a select committee of the La Crescenta Presbyterian Church, our home church. We were elected unanimously by the congregation without receiving nominations from the floor, volunteers from those present, and without debate. Apparently, no one else was clamoring to be on the Pastor Nominating Committee (PNC) charged with finding the replacement for our longtime and beloved pastor who had announced his and his wife’s intention to move on to a new call, this one in the missionary field, a place where their hearts lay as well as the heart of the congregation.

NCAA Basketball fans will get this analogy without blinking and most will understand it. Imagine taking over for Coach John Wooden (Wizard of Westwood) upon his retirement as the UCLA Men’s Basketball coach. It took Coach Wooden several years to build his program to the point where they won 10 NCAA championships over a 12-year period, with a string of seven in a row. Only one other college program has more than seven in their history - Kentucky has eight over a 64-year period. How do you follow an act like that? How do you find a person to establish a culture of excellence of their own when expectations run so high? No wonder we didn’t have a line out the door of smiling people eager for the task of finding the next pastor.

I should not have said yes. My parents had passed away ten weeks apart only two or three months previous, I was steeped in managing their estate based in Oregon, and due to the pandemic, hadn’t been able to mourn properly or celebrate their life with family and friends, and I was a wreck. I had no right to nod my head and accept this blessing but God was at work and I desperately needed to see His hand in action, to be met by Him in ways as he so often has over my life. I cannot say that I did not look back once I put my hand to the plow (see Luke 9:62). I was days away from bowing out but knew one of us needed to exit the task more than I as her husband was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. Even though I knew I was not fit for this service, I knew this – that God’s Grace is sufficient.

In somewhat typical fashion for our church, we didn’t go strictly by the book for this process. If you know much about Presbyterians, you should know we have a book for anything we do. Our outgoing pastor stayed on in an interim capacity while the search went on and our committee was tasked to complete our Mission Information Form (MIF) which is typically done by a separate and specific committee before handing the work over to the PNC.

I struggled here to find the right word for our task, to call it a journey is to belittle what we went through. Journeys are simply defined as ‘A going from one place to another usually of some distance’. I had to scroll down the list of related words my friend Webster was giving me and rejected hop, jaunt, cruise, walkabout to settle on quest, closely followed by odyssey, hike, slog and tramp. We did all those things in our search for the person called by God from time immemorial to be our next pastor.

Make no mistake about this, we knew what we were called to and what was placed in our hands – a Sacred Trust. To a person, we approached our job as a Sacred Trust, entrusted by our congregation to find someone to lead us, guide us deeper into discipleship, closer to Jesus and we were trusted by Jesus to find his Will. We opened every meeting (at least weekly for two years plus interviews and special weekends) with scripture and prayer. Each of us committed ourselves to prayer and fasting in our own fashion. We slogged, trodged (sic), and waded our way through close to 100 Pastor Information Forms (PIFs), dozens of interviews, four neutral pulpit weekends, two, yes two invitations to the call, and one Candidating Weekend that culminated in the vote of the congregation with the landslide ‘Yes’ result. Praise God!

As an aside, let me ask you a quick rhetorical question here, would you have clicked on the link if I correctly named this post A Sacred Trust? Or would you have read this far? Rhetoric aside, we all have a sacred trust to complete.

We laughed, cried, cajoled, rolled our eyes, and wondered at God’s wisdom to put us in such a place. We were humbled by the enormity of the task, heartened by the quality of men and women we interviewed, and amazed at the wisdom of each of the other people on our committee. We were likely sacrilegious from time to time. My suggestion to use my ‘Daily Decision’ app to make the choice from our short list comes to mind. Hey, the 11 Apostles cast lots to find Judas’ replacement, didn’t they? And they’d been in Jesus’ presence for three and half years. Fortunately, nobody took me seriously.

Even with all that going on, the Sacred Trust and Task proceeded as God willed. My choice of the photo I used to draw you in is apt. We were not looking for a shiny new pastor right off the Seminary showroom floor. We knew, or at least trusted, that the used model wouldn’t be a clunker nobody else wanted. The reality is, we didn’t know what make or model we would find or how many miles they had traveled. We placed our own sacred trust in God chiming our spiritual bells and letting us know which one to call.

Our congregation showed us grace, patience, and unwavering support. We would not have succeeded without it. Our Presbytery’s Committee on Ministry (COM) assigned us a pastor to support and guide us on our quest, a man who we could easily have picked to pastor the church. This man and his wife, also an ordained pastor, then came alongside the congregation to take over as interim pastor and have brought us through a period of healing and focused intention to prepare the way for our new pastor. As our interim pastor, his own Sacred Trust, he has made big asks of our PNC, the individuals on the committee and in the congregation, and the entire congregation. We needed the wake-up call to be intentional in our desire for God’s Will with this new direction.

Our trust was rewarded. The trust of the congregation was rewarded. The Sacred Trust has been fulfilled and our new pastor will be in our pulpit on July 2.

Thank you for reading and sharing a little bit of what our quest was like, our Sacred Trust. Now, go out and find a spiritual walkabout of your own, a Sacred Trust you can undertake. Our Lord will be by your side and the value is measureless.

In His grip,

jerry

People Xxxxx In Nearly Every Seat

 

LCPC Chapel

People Butts In Nearly Every Seat

Brass resounded, a two-piece timpani reverberated, and the Steinway resonated with our souls in the Chapel, a sanctuary for worship, praise, and reflection. The Altos and Basses, Tenors and Sopranos of the LCPC Cathedral Choir raised the roof and the filled the room with an incense pleasing to the Lord of Glory. It was an Easter Sunday done well.

I walked in a little later than I usually like for a normal Sunday and there were only seats here and there and my ‘usual’ seat was filled. Then I saw an opening and dove in to sit between two of my mentors, youth leaders from back in my days as a teenager finding my way into adulthood. They would later become impassioned supporters of me as a youth advisor myself. Without these two and their cohorts the church would be a shadow of itself and we would do well to cherish them, the time we have with them, their contributions then and now, and provide space and time for them to worship which is commensurate with their importance to the Lord.

A lady came in during one of the hymns looking for a place to sit amongst her friends so I slid out and ushered her in to sit between Bob and Terry then moved back a couple of rows while a woman I couldn’t recognize in her mask gave me the best of recognitions for a simple action, her hand to her heart.

It’s Easter! and meeting people’s hearts is the order of the day as we celebrate the most noble sacrifice of all time. These are lessons I learned from the likes of Teri and Bob, Jim, Glen, Alan, Dean, and my folks – so many beloved saints I can’t write them all in. I still learn from them. When the prayers came and the hymns were sung they stood or sat as they can or prefer. Standing or sitting, their hearts knelt and their eyes were on Jesus, a posture they take every day.

A message was piped in from the Sanctuary and a promise of fulfillment was given, a continuation of God’s Kingdom on earth. He calls our name – we pray and sing and answer the call. An infant was baptized and the rite was piped in.

There were people butts in nearly every seat as it should have been. This is the House of God.

Grab hold of the promise, let your heart kneel, and worship the Lamb of God.

In His grip,

jerry

Dear Ric

 

Harmony Pines - September 1995

My friend, I heard you left yesterday to walk through the gates where I am certain you heard the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Welcome to My rest.” While I am happy with that outcome for you I must confess that I am saddened by the loss, I’ve missed you for years and now I’ll kick myself for not taking a ride to Prescott.

We were partners in ministry to some incredible young people, including our own children. We washed feet together, broke bread, and hustled after kids decades younger than us. While we served under some incredible interns, directors really, we had enough in the tank to teach them a thing or to. We weren’t afraid to share our injuries with them and because of that, they were open to our hearts and heard the Gospel from us in real terms.

Many of those kids are parents now themselves, incredible parents. There are some great cooks and teachers and youth workers and yes, even an ordained Presbyterian Minister of the Word and Sacrament. Indeed, well done Ric, and well met.

One of my favorite memories with you was the Harmony Pines Camp we did along with your outstanding wife Peggy and the ever faithful James Delbis. We were between interns at the time and the four of provided the content for the weekend, “It’s Not About Me”. My future son-in-law was among the campers. But maybe I’m mixing up the camps as we did several of them up there including the one from 1995 pictured in this post.

Anyway, the lesson you brought one night was classic as you did a riff from the story I share with kids about not being bitter against God and how it separates us from Him. We were in that small meeting cabin with about a dozen or so Junior Highers with a nice fire in the fireplace and firewood all around, some we’d brought ourselves. You were driving home the point of being split from God using a sledge hammer with a log splitting wedge and pounding it out, very dramatic. With the final split a hive of carpenter bees was released into the cabin and all heck broke loose – kids screaming and running every which way and four adults opening every window and door while making a valiant attempt at ushering the poor confused bees out. Those things don’t bite or sting but they are terrifying. I think if any of the kids read this letter to you will see the whole thing all over again.

I want to thank you for all of that, you mean the world to me for it.

Let’s go back to before our ministry together to when Cindy and I rejoined the church with our little family. You and Peggy were assigned to us as we came out of the new members’ class. The system then was that each new member had an established member, or couple in the case of married couples, joining the church and you guys drew our names. You’d been warned to treat us with kid gloves because of the disillusionment we had from our old church that led to us being without a church home for somewhere around ten years. You both were so kind. A bit hesitant but so very kind. Once we shared the story with you and laughed off the tentativeness we slid right in to church life. Thank you, both of you.

You are whole now and with eyes wide open in awe of the place you are at and in Jesus’ presence. I’m grateful for that. Just the same, I’m sorry I didn’t jump on the bike and come out.

In His grip, your friend,

jerry

Drafted. Doggone it!

 

I called to her, as I have been for weeks now. Finally, she turned to me, the smile on her lips giving her careworn face a lift I hadn’t seen since she last talked to her great-grands. She handed me a wallet card she was holding in her hand. Nothing fancy, muted blues and reds printed on a beige card that read in eighteen-point Times New Roman font “Drafted” across the top.

A message followed in twelve-point Freestyle Script, “Your services are required in the Heavenly Host. Please report at once.”

In the lower right corner in the tiniest of prints possible to read was the signature, “Jesus Christ, Lord and Savior”.

As small as it was, the signature brought a burning to my eyes and as simple as the card was, it broke my heart.

How could I beg her to stay when the servant at her core commanded that she obey the God she had served for at least my lifetime? A lifetime of devotion required one last act of service above and beyond her will to stay and love her kids, laugh with her grandchildren, or teach her great-grands. And so she went quietly and finally without the struggle that so defined the final years of her devotion to her husband.

Aside from being my biggest fan and encourager, I remember mom as being a model of devotion – as a mother, a pre-school teacher, youth advisor, Stephen Minister, Elder, Deacon, bonus mom to many, sister to many more… When you were with her she was devoted to being with you and being whatever it was you needed at the time.

I would really like to know what is behind the door and within the misty room she walked into. I want to know what critical service she is being called to, away from me. Selfish, I know. I suspect a portion of her service will be like that of her father before her, looking over my shoulder and from time to time giving me a nudge.

Mom does nudging well. It is because of her that I started this blog, Calvary’s Thread. I had just put up my second post in Iron Side Up, it was about some Christian mussing or comment of some sort while riding my bike. She said, “You should have a blog just for this kind of stuff.” I had to do what she said, she is my mom after all.

I imagine that after she handed over the card to the gatekeeper, she was ushered into a big hall and greeted by the One Who Invited her, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And then there was a reunion – Aunt Jean (Mom’s oldest and closest friend), Carol and the other cohorts who started the Center For Children, my dad, her parents, brothers, and sisters. A bunch from the Heavenly Hall of Fame showed her around, there was singing, worship, incense, and an awesome silence filled with love and warmth.

I can live with this vision of her.

jerry

A Believer’s Quarantine Protocol

In our home we are easily five weeks into shelter-at-home as we adopted those initiatives early on so that we could be the safest possible when we went out to Ely, Nevada to help with our daughter’s family during the time she delivered her second child via C-section. I haven’t met friends in person with the exception of blessed happenstance and on provisioning runs in all that time. But I have attended several Zoom meetings with various committees of the church and held an online class for our communicants. I have listened and watched a few online bible studies and worship services. Today was the first live Zoom meeting with a group of believers in order to read scripture, pray, and share. I’ve missed the men of our Wednesday morning gatherings and this was a much-needed time for me; in fact, I’d say it was priceless and won’t go so far as to put a value to it.

Phil opened our time by calling for our traditional third man prayer and a reading of selected segments from the Gospel of John. Then we checked in with each other buy going around the Zoom and briefly talking about how we and our loved ones are fairing with the virus and its widespread impacts. Our central discussion was regarding how and what we, as Christians, need to be doing during this traumatic time. I’ll share some of what I gleaned from our talk in amplified bullet format.

My Believer’s Quarantine Protocol:

U  Remember that God is in control

V  Pray with that foremost in your mind.

V  Look for ways to express His control of things

V  Be wise in how, where, and when to express it – aka – be considerate of others

This one may be the hardest one to live by and project to a world that will shout back at us, “What God would visit covid-19 on people? If He is in control why is this happening?”

Isaiah 41:10 – “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

U  Limit social media, news, and generally negative input and filter everything through a Kingdom Perspective

Colossians 3:1-4 – “¹So if you been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. ²Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, ³for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. ⁴When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.”

U  Connect with your brothers and sisters in the faith

V  Stay in tune with your families

V  Talk it out

V  Be open and genuine with both your faith and your fears

V  Let others help with your burdens

V  Do this in such a way as to be a responsible member of the community and don’t limit Jesus to meeting with us as believers only when we are physically together

Hebrew 10:24-25 – “²⁴And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, ²⁵not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

U  Stay in touch with your ministry area

V  If you lead, connect with those who you shepherd

V  If you serve under another’s leadership, connect with and pray for the leader

I believe the Hebrews verse above applies here but let’s try a little Ephesians 6:18-19 – “¹⁸Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication for all the saints. ¹⁹Pray also for me, so that when I speak, a message may be given to me to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel…”

U  Stretch – body, mind/soul, and spirit

V  This is how you will increase your talents, don’t burry them and expect that to suffice

V  Reach for something new, it’s likely you have more time for a new field – go for it

V  How and what you exercise with is what will grow and what you will end up doing better at the end of the day

Check out the Parable of the Talents in Matthew 25:14-30

U  Worship. Find ways to lift praise and adoration to the Father

V  Find a source online to worship with. So many of the churches are embracing this, find some that work with you

V  Sing out loud God’s praises as you listen to songs on the radio or online

V  Be creative in your worship – take time to be quiet and let your love rise like incense to the Father

V  Be one whom the Father seeks

John 4:21-23 – “²¹Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. ²²You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. ²³But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him.”

U  Pray. It’s part of worship. Intercede on others behalf.

Phil left us this morning with a charge and I’ll extend it you anyone reading – reach out to one of the brothers or sisters that have been on your heart and mind and take action on what the Holy Spirit has placed within you.

In His grip,

jerry