SPIRITUAL FLUFF

Wesleyans have been known through the years for singing their theology. 

• How Firm A Foundation
• Great Is Thy Faithfulness
• Have Thine Own Way, Lord
• Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise
• Blessed Assurance
• ...

The Gaithers gave a new voice to this theology with a twist in music styles, but maintaining correct theology - for the most part.

Early Contemporary (a nearly meaningless word now) Christian artists gave us some significant music that also kept our theology grounded but gave us a beat and melody that we could relate to.

• Thy Word Is A Lamp Unto My Feet
• God Is In Control
• El Shaddai
• Above All
• Heart of Worship
• Breath of Heaven
• Lamb of God
• The Warrior Is A Child
• ...

The Praise and Worship movement of the 1980's reduced the music and message to minimalist forms but often kept us thinking in the right directions:

• We Are Standing On Holy Ground
• I Love You Lord
• This Is The Day
• Thou Art Worthy
• Spirit Song
• I Will Enter His Gates
• ...

But somewhere along the line, our contemporary artists began giving us material that was less grounded theologically and more related to our emotions.  Unfortunately, much of this music is leaking into our public worship.

Part of my role as a pastor was to make certain that our worship times were properly grounded theologically while still maintaining relevance to the times in which we live.  I rarely turned this responsibility over to others.  Even special music needs to be evaluated;  for instance, what is gained from an offertory that no one knows or recognizes?   

A service of worship must have flow and connection.  It should be focused to stimulate our thoughts and lead us to truths about God and His world.  It should not be predictable since we serve a God of the mysterious and who is the source of all creativity!  Worship at its best evokes awe and wonder!  It brings our minds and hearts into focus on the One who has sought us, redeemed us, and given us purpose.  

While leading my last full-time church, we frequently saw the altar used as a place for seeking God, prayer, Holy Communion, and prayers for healing.  I always tried to kneel there for a few moments before worship began.  Our response at the end of the service often saw people praying individually or in groups at the altar!  

We attended Springfield Church of God for two years after my retirement.  With some frequency, Pastor Jonathan would have special prayer over someone at the altar.  On occasions, he would invite us to come and lay hands on this person (James 5:13-18).  The front would fill with people as would the aisles as we symbolically laid on hands of faith!  It was always a beautiful thing to be part of as we expressed our love and support.  

While serving the Cornerstone Church in Akron alongside of Brenda Young, our altar would fill every Sunday during the prayer time.  First would come a wave of those needing prayer;  then came a wave of those wishing to pray with and for them!  It was common to have 50 - 70 people crowding around the altar as Brenda prayed over them all!  What an incredible sight!  

I attended a worship service this spring where a very simple worship team [made up mostly of substitutes since the main leaders were on vacation] brought us beautifully into the presence of the Lord!  I was inspired and stood with hands raised much of the time.  It wasn't about anyone's talent.  The team was LEADING US IN WORSHIP!  I didn't want it to end.

But it did end.  Someone came up and gave a bunch of announcements and then - to my shock - told us that we were taking a ten minute break for coffee and donuts!  When everyone returned, a lay speaker gave an excellent Father's Day message.  It's impact would have been magnified if it had immediately followed our wonderful worship time.  I left the church wondering:  'What were they thinking?'

I find myself in a dearth of meaningful worship that goes beyond three songs, announcements, offering, and message.  I need something that allows for some spontaneity and response.  Prescribed readings and prayers can be helpful if chosen and led well.  I believe it makes a difference when a service has been planned and prayed over by the pastor, leaders and people!  

We've lost something that desperately needs to be regained...  

When the music fades

All is stripped away

And I simply come

Longing just to bring

Something that's of worth

That will bless Your heart

I'll bring You more than a song

For a song in itself

Is not what You have required

You search much deeper within

Through the way things appear

You're looking into my heart

I'm coming back to the heart of worship

And it's all about You, it's all about You, Jesus

I'm sorry, Lord, for the thing I've made it

When it's all about You, it's all about You, Jesus

King of endless worth

No one could express

How much you deserve

Though I'm weak and poor

All I have is Yours

Every single breath!

I'll bring You more than a song

For a song in itself

Is not what You have required

You search much deeper within

Through the way things appear

You're looking into my heart, yeah

I'm coming back to the heart of worship

And it's all about You, it's all about You, Jesus

I'm sorry, Lord, for the thing I've made it

When it's all about You, it's all about You, Jesus

I'm coming back to the heart of worship

And it's all about You, it's all about You, Jesus

I'm sorry, Lord, for the thing I've made it

When it's all about You, it's all about You, Jesus

[Words and music by Matt Redman]

MY CHILDHOOD CAMP BUDGET

I was ten in 1962. 

Christmas – for me during my growing-up years – was a huge time for receiving! Mom bought me school supplies, clothes, games, toys, underwear, socks; pretty much everything I would need to get me through until the next Christmas. 

Then, I got nothing in between – or at least very little. No school clothes in August. I usually did get a birthday gift in January, but it was often just given to me in a shopping bag. 

However, my Dad started me working when I was eleven. He cared for our doctor’s lawn and turned it over to me [he had done the same with my brother, Ira, years earlier]. He took two Saturdays to teach me the job and then turned me loose. I cared for that lawn until I left home in June, 1969, at seventeen years of age. I also added four more lawns to the list. So, the money I spent was usually my own. 

Before turning eleven, my Dad would give me a dime every weekday during camp meeting. I would choose very carefully how to spend it at the camp store. Popsicles were five cents, so that was usually my choice. 

But, don’t feel bad for me. In that day, you could return pop bottles for two cents! I would scavenge for pop bottles and could often double my daily budget! Fudgsicles were ten cents – I LOVED fudgsicles!!!!! 

But that wasn’t all. In the afternoon, I would go into the tabernacle and sift through the straw for pennies, nickels and dimes that fell out of people’s pockets during the offering time [the tabernacle had a dirt floor at the time, so they covered it with straw]! On a good afternoon, I could garner another ten to twenty cents! Woo Hoo! I would go to the camp store and fill my pocket with penny candy (non-existent today). Especially Tootsie Rolls! Maybe I’d splurge on an ice cream sandwich or ice cream on a stick. YUMMY! [I still wonder if some people dropped their change on purpose just to delight us kids?] 

Then, one year, something unbelievable happened! Our camp evangelist that year was Reverend A. J. West from Apollo, PA. On the last Saturday, one of his sons came to visit the camp. We were all up at the ballfield watching the big softball game; I wasn’t old enough to play yet. While standing there, this red-haired young man asked me if I would run to the store and get him an ice-cold pop. I said, “Sure!” He handed me a dollar bill and told me to buy myself one too! Oh – my – goodness! I was thrilled! I ran as fast as I could and then ran back with two cold Cokes (in glass bottles) and his change. When I went to hand him his change – BRACE YOURSELF – HE TOLD ME TO KEEP IT! 

I held in my hand sixty cents! I had hit the jackpot! I couldn’t believe it! I don’t think I’d ever had so much money of my own before! It was amazing! When he drank his bottle, I picked it up and added four more cents to my pocket! 

Doesn’t the Bible tell us to be wise as serpents? 

I wasn’t a rich kid, but with a little investment of time and some ingenuity, I did alright!

PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES!

One of the best things about camp when I was a boy was getting to see my Grandma Haire every day!  She lived with my Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Lester and stayed in their cottage during camp, which was right across the upper road from our cottage.  She was the only grandparent I was privileged to know. 

Effie Leota (Archer) Haire                                                    Her brother, James Okie Archer

Served the Lord through the Free Methodist Church for sixty years!

Obviously, she was old and didn’t get around very well.  I only remember her coming to night-time church.  Like a few others, she prepared her own meals and ate in her cottage.  [There wasn’t always a dining hall.  Before that, everyone cooked in their cottages.  All cottages had water and gas.]

Aunt Dorothy's cottage
Currently owned by her grand-son-in-law, Terry McAllister

Uncle James' cottage
Currently owned by Jeff and Cathy Diddle

My favorite thing about having her at camp was that she frequently made peanut butter cookies that were at least four-to-five inches in diameter – at least that’s the way my childhood mind perceived them.  J  They were always so fresh and quite delicious. 

She was a quiet woman by my remembrance.  I’m confident that my cousins: Catherine, Grace and Wilma Jean would have a whole different memory of her since she lived with them during their growing-up years!  My Aunt Dorothy was very gracious to give Grandma a home for many years. 

My Dad would bring Grandma to our house for a few weeks most years.  Maybe it was his way of giving his sister a break.  He would always haul her quilting frames and set them up in our living room so she could continue her work.   I loved these weeks.  She came at other times, too, to babysit me.  In the evenings she would fall asleep in her chair and I would say, “Go to bed, Grandma, I’ll be okay.”  Her answer was always the same:  “I was just resting my eyes!”  J

During the years that she was still able to come to church (New Brighton Free Methodist), she sat – along with several other older women – at the opposite end of the pew from my parents.  Maybe she did it to help block me in.  😂  I would occasionally wander her way, and she would slip me a piece of hard-tack candy.  I loved her! 

I never heard her pray or give her testimony.  I never knew her to take an active role in anything at the church, although she may have when she was younger. 

I’ve only heard stories about my Grandpap Haire – all from my own Dad.  Here’s one of them:

My father grew up sleeping in the same room with his Mom and Dad.  His five sisters shared the other bedrooms. 

 

One Sunday morning, Grandma told my dad to get up and get ready for Sunday School.  He didn’t get up. 

 

That afternoon, the family was sitting together on the porch of their small house when a car pulled up with some of my dad’s friends in it.  He hopped over the banister and trotted toward the car.  Grandpap said loudly, “Leonard, where do you think you’re going?”  Then he followed it up with, “You didn’t get up and go to Sunday School when your Mom called you, so you can just stay on the porch the rest of the day.”  He wasn’t a man to be argued with!

So, although he never made a commitment to Christ, he did stand somewhat behind Grandma in raising her children in the faith. 

Dad also told me that he usually spent some time at Camp Meeting.  He and the other smokers would walk out the back of the tabernacle and up to Anderson Boulevard to smoke (this was still happening when I was a boy).  According to my father, Grandpap helped build the tabernacle.  One night while waiting for the service to begin, my Dad pointed at one of the sewer tiles that were filled with cement to anchor the main support beams.  He told me that he (as a young boy) and Grandpap helped set those beams.  Then, with an odd smile, he added, “Your grandfather was chewing tobacco and was spitting in the cement.”  Sorry!  So much for ‘holy ground’, huh…

As a sidebar, it impresses me that he was apparently welcomed at the camp even though he was not a man of faith.  In those days, the primary emphasis of the camp meeting movement was evangelism.  Consequently, the spiritually lost were welcome!  Are they welcome – and would they be comfortable – in your church today?

These family traditions are valuable!  For thirteen years, (while living here in East Liverpool) Debbie and I packed up all our stuff and moved a mile-and-a-half to the Tri-State Campground for eleven days.  It was a lot of work!  It seemed sort of silly.  But it was important to us to maintain this tradition.  Living on the grounds and being part of the community is a whole lot different than just driving in every day or evening.  No guilt intended here – I’m simply stating that it was a high priority for us!  Both our families were deeply involved in the camp.  It was a lot like a 10-day family reunion (on both sides).

When my Grandma Haire died, Ira (my older brother) and I rode early with Dad to the funeral home.  On the way down our hill he said,

“Your Grandma was a good woman.  She wasn’t a leader in the church, but she was a good, Christian woman!”   

She held her family together through tough times without much help from her husband.  She took in other people’s laundry to keep food on the table.  She brought her children up in the church.  Most of them loved and served the Lord throughout their lives and raised their kids to love the Lord, too. 

THE DESIRES OF OUR HEARTS

When I was growing up, my family stayed in a cottage owned by my great uncle (on my Dad’s side) James Okie Archer – the only other preacher in our family.  He spent most of his ministry in the Apollo District of the Pittsburgh Conference and therefore was always involved in their Camp Meetings (which ran simultaneously with the Rochester District Camp Meeting).  

Consequently, he struck a deal with my Dad that if he and Mom would clean and repair the cottage, they could use it during camp.  However, during Annual Conference, he would use it.  I think this was part of what pushed my parents toward buying a camper.  

Uncle James had three wives in succession.  Aunt Hannah died after many years of marriage.  Then, Aunt Anna died and he married a third wife.  

My mother had a letter from Uncle James indicating that our family was to inherit the cottage after his death.  However, it passed into the property of his surviving wife.  I think this rankled my Mom because she had some personal possessions in the cabin that she had never been able to retrieve.  

Years passed.

Eventually, Deb’s sister, Cathy (and Jeff) were able to buy the cottage and still own it to this day.  [It’s the top cottage on the row at the northeast end of camp.]

Soon after they bought the cottage, we were visiting at Cathy and Jeff’s and while talking about camp, Cathy very graciously said, “Harold, is there anything in the cottage that you wanted?”  

I told her there was, but that it had probably been thrown away as junk.  She asked me to describe it.  “It was an old mirror in a frame with a little shelf below it that hung in the former, corner bathroom of the cottage,” I said.  Cathy got up and said, “I’ll be right back.”   

She was gone for about five minutes and returned with my family heirloom (or Haireloom).  This relatively worthless item is the only possession that I have from my Grandma Walton (my Mom’s Mom), who died before I was born!  It currently hangs in Debbie’s bathroom.  

When Cathy and Jeff moved into the cottage, they asked if we wanted an old ‘Hoosier’ that sat in the back corner of the kitchen.  We passed on it at that time.  They took time to refinish in and placed it in their home for a number of years.  

Then, when remodeling, they asked again if we’d like to have it.  Today, that ‘Hoosier’ sits in our living/dining room where we admire its beauty daily!  

Two treasures that we thought we had lost came back to us through an unusual set of circumstances and the generosity of family!  How cool is that?  

Now, it’s all just stuff.  We could easily live without either item.  I honestly mdon’t think my kids will value these things the way I do, so they’ll probably pass on to a treasure-seeker someday, or end up in a dumpster.  

But to me it illustrates the fact that God knows the desires of our hearts and works in His mysterious ways to delight us.  His kindness and generosity with me and my family wells up within me.  God is good – all the time!

WHY IS DECLUTTERING SO HARD?

I received this card from my granddaughter, Rylie, quite a few years ago.  It hangs above my desk and will remain there until I'm gone...

Most of us have been there.  

It happened to me this weekend while I was clearing my dresser-top, cleaning out my tool-shed and beginning to declutter my garage...

I continually come across stuff that I should pitch, but I just can't bring myself to do it.

• the old TV speaker bar - maybe it can be fixed...
• old rabbit fence and posts - I might have a garden again...
• a New Brighton High School pendant - memories, pressed between the pages of my mind!
• a DairyLand pig's dinner button - maybe it's worth something?
• a frozen-up hedge trimmer - maybe it can be repaired?
• a weed-whacker that Travis left behind - maybe I can get it running...
• two pair of cuff links - hey, styles change...
• a faucet we replaced in our kitchen - I should install it in our camper!

You realize that I could go on...

Don't laugh too hard!  Your list would be just as long - only different...🤣

We're not all hoarders - just sentimentalists.   

I'm reading a Bodie and Brock Thoene novel right now:  Ashes of Remembrance.  The following paragraph caught my attention:

Kate helped Mary Elizabeth lift a heap of ashes that had been over the girls' bedroom.  With a cry of discovery, Mary Elizabeth pounced on a hand mirror.  The glass was cracked and the silver frame bent.  "This was your grandmother's," Kate said in a weary voice.  "I know you don't remember her, Mary Elizabeth, but once she went all the way to Belfast to visit a cousin, and she brought this lookin' glass back from that trip.  She held it wasn't the thing that was important, it was the memory. 'Things are just place-holders for memories,' she used to tell me."  Kate stared over the debris and slowly turned in place.  "Remember my words, sister.  You may have to speak them to me."  (p.101)

There it is!  A nugget of truth for all of us...'Things are just place-holders for memories.'

• Travis bought that speaker bar for us!
• I started gardening in New Middletown, where the garden grew along with the church!
• New Brighton High School reminds me of my growing-up days!
• It was my Dad that took me to DairyLand for that pig's dinner!

Starting to see the connection?  

It won't apply in every instance, but it certainly will in some.

Truth be told, the hedge trimmer needs to go, along with the weed whacker and the cuff links.  It's my job to sort through this stuff and make determinations.  I'm being very deliberate [at age 69] to diminish the clutter to make my departure for Heaven easier on my kids.  

Besides, the memories abide - even if the trigger has been cast (or given) away.  

ZEALOUS APPRECIATION

I was twenty-four when I was appointed to serve the Jeannette, PA Free Methodist Church.  They had just finished a brand new building on a seven acre lot in the middle of a new development of homes in Harrison City.  Sadly, however, the congregation had experienced a severe division in the process and I inherited a congregation of about forty people - mostly older.

I was a well-educated college/seminary candidate with a year-and-a-half of experience from student-pastoring a church in the Hoosier mountains of southern Indiana.  Little did I know that my education was really just about to begin.

Realizing that the church desperately needed to grow to be able to handle its debt to the conference of over $70,000 (1976), I began teaching about evangelism and how to lead others to faith in Christ.  After six months - we had no new people.  :-(

I attended a mandatory minister's conference in New York where Dr. Wyn Arn trained us for several days on the methods of church growth via graphs, charts and strategies.  Upon returning home, I decided that if the people weren't going to grow the church, then I would try to do it.  I stopped much of what I had been doing and started down Oak Lane getting to know our neighbors.  I also began to visit people who had formerly attended the church.  

God blessed my efforts with dozens of new conversions.  Attendance doubled - and then tripled in a very short time!  Most of the growth was through family systems.  

[I hope to publish my memoirs, I Want to be a Preacher Like Uncle Hoppy, before fall this year.  Many of the details of this growth will be documented there.  Sadly, the Pittsburgh Conference closed the Jeannette Church and sold it just five years ago.]

One of the young women who came alive in Christ was extremely capable and zealous.  She stepped in and took over leading the Vacation Bible School that summer using almost all new people to staff it.  In working together, she learned that I had a longing for a brass cross and candle sticks for our Communion Table.

Low and behold, she secretly took up a collection and purchased this expensive gift.  At the closing program of the VBS, she presented it to me publicly.  I was overwhelmed with joy!  As I stepped forward to acknowledge the gift, I noticed that she had placed the followed plague on the bottom of the cross:

I joyfully accepted the gift.  

When everyone had left, I spoke with her privately and thanked her for her thoughtfulness and kindness.  After expressing my absolute joy at the expensive gift, I told her that it seemed awkward to have my name emblazoned on Christ's Cross.  She was an intelligent woman and quickly saw the delicacy of my situation.  She quickly removed it from the front of the cross and placed it on the back instead.  :-)

When I left that church, I removed it completely and just came across it today while sorting through old paraphernalia.  Good, good memories!  Thought I'd share this sweet, innocent story with you today!