When Andrea was in junior high, I was driving
her home from church before going to the other
church to preach. She let me know I had forgotten
to thank her friend who had played a piano solo
during the worship service. What made it worse
was that the sermon was on giving thanks. The
scripture lesson was about the ten lepers (Luke
17:11-19). Only one of the ten had come back to
thank Jesus for his healing. And this is one of my
favorite scriptures. Trust me, Andrea’s friend got
thanked publicly after that.

There were times early in my ministry when I
would observe faults in a person and decide I
needed to preach toward correction. Invariably,
that person would not show up on that Sunday. On
the other hand, there have been times when I
nearly fought with God because I did not want to
deliver a sermon on a difficult topic. But I went
ahead with it, and someone was there who asked
how I knew exactly what was needed. That sermon
seemed to be directed toward him or her.
It’s amazing how the Holy Spirit can work in this
way!

Just a little over twenty-five years ago, I was
serving as associate pastor at First UMC in Great
Bend. We had handed out Bibles to third graders
on a Sunday in August. There was one family who
had not been in church for a long time, but we had
decided we would present a Bible to their third
grader anyway. And once again they did not show
up. So we asked in staff meeting, what do we do
with the Bible? It was decided I would deliver it to
their home.

The new Dean of Students wasn’t making any
friends. Every student seemed to be complaining
about the new policy; no student could enroll in
more than fifteen hours per semester. The students
had grown accustomed to taking 19, even 20 hours
a semester. The Dean made it clear there would be
no compromise or special circumstances. The
students were flaunching at the bit. “It’s going to
take too long to graduate.”

“We are an Easter people.” Frankly, I had
to wonder about these words when first
observing them on a church’s sign. I was sure
I didn’t want to be the Easter bunny, and
wasn’t real sure about wanting to be an Easter
person.

I should have learned my lesson by now. You
see, in Kansas it’s always risky to talk about the
weather. We have a deadline when the newsletter
is to be ready to go to press. You always receive
this publication one to two weeks after that deadline.
They talk about how the weather is always
changing in Kansas. So by the time you read this
column, it is pretty unlikely that the weather is the
same as when it was written.

STORM STORIES. During the next month, you will be hearing storm stories in our worship services. These will come not only from the pastor, but also from some of our laypersons who have been greatly impacted by storms. The sermon series is entitled, “Where is God When the Storm Hits?” In a similar vein, we will also be talking about why suffering comes our way.

It may have sounded like a goal that would be hard to reach. The Joel Committee set a goal of 500 for our average attendance during the next three to five years. But I choose to believe that it is attainable—sooner than you may think.

This is the time of the year when we look to the future. And as I look toward the future, there is so much to be excited about!

On my desk is an old “Guideposts” magazine from over thirty years ago. Now my desk looks like it hasn’t been cleaned off in that long, too. I was not a subscriber then, but picked the magazine up when the library placed it on a free table. The cover shows a drawing in only two colors: red and green. A mother has her arms around a little girl with a Christmas tree in the background. Inside is one of my favorite Christmas stories, written by one then known as “America’s best-loved novelist,” Taylor Caldwell.