Worship Buddy

A woman I'll call Susan sent me an email last week, asking if we could arrange to baptize her son. Since I had not met Susan before, I invited her to come and meet with me at church so we could get acquainted.

"I was baptized in another church when I was a baby," Susan explained, "but I haven't really been to worship since then." She is now about 30 years old, with a 2-year-old son and another baby due this fall. "I feel that now it's time for me to learn about the faith, and to introduce my children to the church."

I was happy to tell Susan about First United. I invited her to worship with us and to bring her children to Sunday School. She looked a bit hesitant, then said, "How will I know what to do?" I realized then that worship is a whole new ballgame for Susan. She isn't sure what to expect and doesn't want to feel out of place in the sanctuary.

"How about if we find a worship buddy for you?" I asked. "We'll ask a member who has been here for awhile to sit with you in worship and explain what we do. Does that sound good?" Susan nodded and smiled, looking more relaxed.

It's easy to assume that everyone knows how to "do church." What a privilege to introduce someone to worship for the first time! If you see a newcomer in the pews who looks a bit bewildered, I hope you'll offer to be a worship buddy.

God bless you, Susan! We're glad you found us.

Good News

It's been a trying week, since the Monday morning storm. Lots of our members are still without power, plus our internet service is not working at the church. Traffic has been slow,because some major stoplights are still not repaired. Frustrations at every turn!

So I was grateful to hear this story of good news from our Walk-In Ministry downstairs.

A man and a woman came in on Tuesday. They are homeless and were looking for help. Our Walk-In Ministry staff knew them from previous visits to the food pantry. The woman seemed more quiet and reserved than usual. When the man left to go outside, the woman turned to our Walk-In Ministry staff and showed her that her arm had recently been broken. The woman confessed that her male partner had gotten angry and beat her up, leading to the injury. "Is there a shelter where I could go?" she asked.

Our staff got on the phone to Sarah's Inn, a domestic violence shelter here in Oak Park. They were full. They made calls to all the other surrounding community shelters. No room there either. Relentlessly, they tried Sarah's Inn again. This time, they agreed to find room. Our volunteer drove the woman to a safe place.

God's work. Good work. Good news. Shelter from the storm, indeed. Thanks be to God, for the charity and justice that happens here every day.

Seeds

I'm starting a three-part series on Jesus' parables this Sunday, beginning with Matthew 13:1-9, about the man who went out to sow seeds. Some fell on the path, some fell on shallow soil, some fell on rocks and some fell on good soil and yielded 30, 60 or a hundredfold.

This is how I plant seeds.
I find the best soil.
Break it open, hinging slabs up and over,
Shovel deep, slicing to dampness.
Folds of dirt heave open to light of day.
Unearth what is dead. Haul away rocks.
Yank weeds, light a fire, burn the chaff.
Till the soil till it lies like sand, soft and ready.

Plow a row, then another, again,
Each separated by six inches,
Furrows like comb tracks parting the earth.
Plant the seeds now, one by one, three inches down.
Cover them. Tamp the soil. Not too hard.
Add bursts of rain, sunshine, night breezes, morning dew.

Then I build a fence to protect the seeds.
Put up a scarecrow.
Hang pie tins to scare the birds.
Fertilize the dirt.
Weed it.
Mulch it.
Treat it.
Spray it.
Irrigate it.
Worry over it.
Then I wait for the harvest, never satisfied with my yield,
Afraid that I chose the wrong field for planting,
not too sure about those seeds.

Meanwhile, the sower goes out to sow.
With open hand, he flings the seed ---
Dancing over the path,
Skidding down the hills,
Stumbling into the rocks,
Head thrown back, laughing
As birds swoop down to catch what he throws,
As seeds bounce across boulders,
Skip into the weeds,
Skitter under stones.
The sower keeps sowing, plowing after he scatters,
Knowing that a few seeds will find good soil
And God’s realm will grow thirty, sixty, a hundredfold.
He can just imagine the abundance:
There will be enough to feed a village for a year;
Enough to let him retire to a villa on the Mediterranean.
But even then, the sower will never stop sowing.
Because he trusts the seed,
Loves it, truly.
He knows none of those seeds, no matter where they land,
is ever wasted.

Oh yes, this is the word of God.