From the Pastor’s Heart

A 76-year-old wrote the following as he remembered his dad…. I have many memories about my father and about growing up with him in our apartment next to the elevated train tracks. For twenty years, we listened to the roar of the train as it passed by his bedroom window. Late at night he waited alone on the tracks for the train that took him to his job at a factory where he worked the midnight shift.

On this particular night, I waited with him in the dark to say good-bye. His face was grim. His youngest son had been drafted. I would be sworn in at six the next morning, while he stood at his paper-cutting machine in the factory.

My father had talked about his anger. He didn’t want them to take his child, only 19-years-old, who had never had a drink or smoked a cigarette, to fight a war in Europe. He placed his hands on my slim shoulders: “You be careful, son, and if you ever need anything write to me and I’ll see that you get it.”

Suddenly, he heard the roar of the approaching train. He held me tightly in his arms and gently kissed me on the cheek. With tear-filled eyes, he murmured: I love you my son.” Then the train doors closed him inside and he disappeared into the night.

One month later at the age of 46 my father died. I am 76 as I sit and write this. I once heard Pete Hamill, the New York Reporter, say that memories are people’s greatest inheritance and I have to agree. I’ve lived through four invasions in World War II. I’ve had a life full of all kinds of experiences. But the only memory that lingers is of the night my dad said, “I love you.”

Memories are our greatest inheritance, or at least they should be. And they should be memories of love. IT IS ALL ABOUT LOVE…isn’t it?

AS A SON I HAVE MY MEMORIES…

The air was cool and the skies were gray as my mother and I planted flowers on my dad’s grave. I am however, blessed with 43 years of memories of my dad. IT IS ALL ABOUT LOVE.

AS A FATHER I AM BLESSED WITH COUNTLESS MEMORIES beginning with my initial cradling of each of my three precious babies in my arms all of those years ago.

Where has the time gone? It goes by so quickly. One of the greatest gifts we can give our children is our time.

It was Father’s Day 1982 and it was going to be my very first Father’s Day Sermon. I sat at the kitchen table in our little house in Hillsville early that Sunday morning going over my sermon. It was a sermon about fathers taking time for their children. Nancy was upstairs getting Amy and Melaine ready and Lee Ann who was not quite seven was continually interrupting my train of thought. “Daddy,” she said, “May I have a piece of paper?” I gave her a piece of paper silently hoping she would not disturb me. It wasn’t but a few minutes and she was standing at my side, “Daddy! Daddy!” she called out. “Lee Ann, can’t you see Daddy is busy?” I replied. “But Daddy, it is important. I need a pen.” I gave her the pen and said, “Now, Lee Ann, please let Daddy study.” She was gone about 15 minutes and returned with a big smile on her face and again shouting… “Daddy! Daddy.” Reluctantly I turned toward her as I noticed she had one hand behind her back. “Here Daddy, this is for you! Happy Father’s Day!” The following is the card she made. I have kept it in my Father’s Day file all of these years and it will remain there as a constant reminder that my actions must match my sermons. IT IS ALL ABOUT TAKING TIME TO LOVE. (I will always wonder if the picture is of me!)

I pray God will give me the wisdom and the time for countless more opportunities for the making of memories.

AND NOW AS A GRANDFATHER…I hold my precious grandbabies and dream of all the ways I will show them how much their old Pappy loves them, giving birth to new memories. IT IS ALL ABOUT LOVE.

I pray you are not only making loving memories but you too are sustained by loving memories of parents who love or loved you unconditionally.

Whatever your memories; may you find peace in the knowledge that you have a Heavenly Father who loves you beyond measure; a Father who will never leave you orphaned. IT IS ALL ABOUT LOVE.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!

Blessings,

Pastor Russel

A young couple was going out for the evening. They called a taxi and put the cat out for the evening. The taxi arrived and as the couple walked out the front door the cat shot back in. They didn’t want the cat shut in the house so the wife went out to the taxi while the husband went upstairs to chase the cat out. The wife, not wanting it known that the house would be empty, explained to the taxi driver; “My husband’s just going upstairs to say goodbye to my mother.” A few minutes later the husband climbed into the cab. “Sorry I took so long,” he said, “Stupid old thing was hiding under the bed and I had to poke her with a coat hanger to get her to come out!”

Miscommunication can be embarrassing, and it can be hurtful and damaging.

We find ourselves entering the season of Pentecost, the birth of the church by the giving of the Holy Spirit. Luke reports in the Acts of the Apostles:

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability…Amazed and astonished…they proclaimed, in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.”

Various tongues, but yet all understanding the power and praise of God. What is the language of God? What is the language of the church? The language of the church is love. Christian love is always understood, tearing down all barriers. The language of love is a language of forgiveness, a language of hospitality, a language of welcoming.

There is an old Appalachian folktale about a small town in Tennessee called Galax cove. There were two churches in Galax Cove, a Baptist Church and a Methodist Church. The Baptist preacher, Ike Gallaher, always preached against the Methodists, and the Methodist preacher, Wes Shelton, always preached against the Baptists, and the townsfolk learned to hate each other in the most Christian kind of way.

Then one spring, the rains came down, and the creeks rose, and a flood tore through Galax Cove. Ike Gallaher attempted to move his family to higher ground. But the flood waters trapped them on some rocks. Suddenly, a wave rose up and tore his baby daughter from Ike’s arms. Just then, a man on the banks jumped into the water and swam toward the little girl. He reached her just in time, and pushed her up on a nearby ledge. Then, the man was swept away with the flood. It was Wes Shelton, the Methodist preacher. They found his body a few days later.

After the flood waters cleared, Ike Gallaher went back to preaching. But this time, he didn’t preach against any Methodists. He didn’t preach against anybody. His heart had been broken by the love of his enemy and all he could preach was love.

One of the churches was destroyed by the flood and the people never rebuilt it. Instead, they all began attending the same church, and they renamed it Sweet Harmony Chapel.

That ought to be the name of every church—Sweet Harmony Chapel. We are all followers of Christ. We need to love one another and respect one another.

Each time we celebrate Pentecost we experience again the birth of the church and our roots in salvation history. We celebrate again all that God has called us to be and what we are called to be about. We celebrate again the Holy Spirit that compels us to move forward to follow the Lord Jesus Christ beyond what we have dared in our wildest dreams to aspire.

We are called to speak the language of Christian love!

In His loving Service,
Pastor Russel