A few years ago a family in our church lost their much-loved son to untimely death. To comfort them I created a story to help them see the difficulties of his life are now forever forgotten. I hope you enjoy the story.
Awaiting the Date
Here is a classic re-posted from 2001
Working in my study one summer afternoon I found myself struggling to concentrate. At the time my charge was a small country church near a cemetery bordered in back by a stream. I thought a walk would do me some good and refresh my powers of concentration. Picking up my walking stick at the door I started off across the road, through the cemetery and woods. I spent an hour or so watching the water run over smooth stones and listing to the music of water and birdsong. I prayed some but mostly just sat quietly with the company of my thoughts.
It is just as easy to loose perspective in ministry as it is to loose concentration in study. It’s easy to forget the motives that originally pulled you into the service of Christ, loosing sight of the rewards you anticipate in eternity.
My spirit refreshed I made my way along the stream and through the trees back to my study. On the way I noticed how different the church looked from the perspective of the cemetery. I don’t think I had ever seen it from that angle before.
When I was a boy my Dad would take me on walks through cemeteries some and teach me etiquette and read the gravestones and give me some historic perspective on the lives of the people whose remains lie there. Walking back I remembered those times and the quiet, reverent way Dad always spoke when walking among the headstones.
My eye fell on a familiar name and stopped me where I stood. The name of the headstone was Eva Ernest. Beneath her name was the year of her birth followed by a dash. Eva was a long time faithful member of the church and an every Sunday attendee. She taught Sunday School there week after week for decades. She sat and listened to my messages every Sunday.
I stood quietly while a sobering reality stole over me. Everyone to whom I preach has a place somewhere on earth where their remains will lie after they have heard their last message. The date of their last day on earth will be chiseled in stone somewhere someday.
Where will my headstone be and what date will follow November 3, 1958? And what difference will it make that I lived? What will I have accomplished and whose life will I touch for eternity during my short earthly dash?
It made me want to get right back to work. In the little village church of my boyhood we sang an old hymn you don’t hear these days. One phrase of it still rings in my heart: “Work for the night is coming, when man works no more.”
(From Stonebridge Newsletter – Number 47)
A Difficult Christmas
Here is a classic re-post from eleven years ago.
The decorations around the Inn this year are beautiful. A fire burns in the huge fireplace in the lobby. We are warm, happy and secure. But I remember a difficult Christmas when we had no tree or decorations. The children were complaining about it so I sent them into the woods to find one. About a half hour later I saw them coming from the woods dragging the most pitiful little branch of evergreen you ever saw. It made Charlie Brown’s tree look like the one at Rockerfeller Center. They had cut the top out of a pine tree. We put a strand of lights on it and propped it in a corner. We prayed. We laughed a little. We cried.
I like to write happy stories that encourage so I have never written of this Christmas until now. It is the most memorable Chritstmas of my life. Not because everything was perfect but for the exact opposite reason. Our lives were in turnoil. We were practically homeless and we were deeply discouraged. It was 1994, the year Wesley was born. The house we were renting was on the market for sale. We had promised to move if it sold and it did. We were to be out of the house by the fifteenth of December if I recall the date.
We thought we had a contract on another house, but at the last minute the deal fell through. We had no place to go and we were tempted to stay and tell our landlord that it was simply impossible to move. We knew that he would have to go through legal channels that would give us the needed time to get us thorough Christmas and the New Year’s Day and we had the promise of a nother lease by then.
I received counsel from people who love us much and care for us deeply to stay put until we had a place to go. One morning when I was weighng the decision I rose early seeking direction from the Lord. The Lord brought Psalm 15 to my memory very clearly early that morning.. “–he that sweareth to his own hurt and changeth not.” I knew that I needed to keep my promise.
I called our landlord and appealed to stay longer. He said I could only if I had no other place to go. That day some Amish friends called and said they knew of a small house out near Walhounding that was vacant. They made hay there in the summer. The house we small and it was not in good repair. It was never occupied. A friend made some repairs to the hot water heater so it would be safe to operate.
Wes was born on the tenth. Lois took Wesley and the girls to stay with her mother. They would be warm and safe there. I took charge of the move. A young lady from the church and her boyfriend came to help us. The day we moved our Amish friends helped us. The ladies made a meal. My brother Nathan was there working with us all day. Toward evening everyone had gone home except Nathan. We went back to get one final load. It was late at night. The rain had fallen all day. Almost everything we owned was in a garage at the little house in Walhounding. We would store it there until our permanent home opened up.
Nathan and I, wearily loaded the final load and took it to the new place. When we arrived and opended the garage door we discovered to my horror that all day the rain had been pouring through holes in to roof onto the top of my library and everything else we had stored in the garage. We quickly moved everything away from the leaks and covered our possessions with a tarp.
The house had no well. The drinking water was supplied by a sistern across the road and down the hill from the house. It seemed at this place if we had water we did not have heat and if we had heat we did not have water. The weekend we moved it rained continually. Later it turned very cold. In the middle of the night the heater went out. There was a gas well on the place so heating fuel was free but worked sparatically. The owner said there was a local man who knew how to keep it going. If we needed help we were to call him. Of course heaters rarely go out in the daytime. In the middle of the night we got this poor stranger out of bed to come and get the furnace going. We didn’t know what to think of him. We felt vulnerable, insecure and discouraged.
During our time there the entire family was sick. We would be sick through Christmas and on into the first part of the new year. Lois came back with little Wes and the girls for Christmas Day. It was on a Sunday. That morning we got up to go to church and the tire on the car was flat. After church we left for Kentucky. When we returned we went to Michigan to visit relatives. We would never have stayed so long if it had not been for the difficult circumstances back home.
During that time I preached for a special New Years’ Eve Service at my brother-in-law’s church in Coldwater. That service would be a major intersection in the road of our lives. There that night was a family that God used to direct us eventually to Fremont where we would serve for six good years. That same family was used of the Lord again just a few months ago to confirm the direction of the Lord for us to move here to the Character Inn.
That is the way God usually works. He usually takes us through the valley of the shadow of death before we arrive at the table he has prepared for us. Some dark and difficult days are usually a part of God’s good plan. That was true for the Lord Jesus Himself. That will always be true for each of us. So far I can say, in spite of difficult circumstances and dark days that goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life.
Kenneth L. Pierpont
Riverfront Character Inn
Flint, Michigan
Christmas Day 2002
Where Have You Been All My Life?
A Classic Re-post from 2001
Saturday we spent the day on the West Coast of our beloved peninsula enjoying the sandy beach of our own freshwater inland ocean-Lake Michigan. Driving into the parking lot I noticed some of the cars were from out of state. Others were enjoying our Michigan sand and water.
Sometimes I will be fly-fishing the cold tailwaters of West Michigan and the angler next to me will be from a distant state. He has had to invest significant money and arrange his schedule to share the fishing hole I enjoy only twenty minutes from my front porch. Trout fishing and miles of perfect beaches are a couple things that make Michigan winters tolerable even without a snowmobile or skis.
I packed my journal and some good reading, iced down some soda in a cooler, and we made a day of it. It was a postcard perfect day on the beach. We picked a nice isolated stretch of beach and watched a dozen sailboats out on the blue water. Whenever they overheated in the sun the kids plunged into the cold clear water.
Coming into the park a woman of about 60 named Liz was keeping the gate. I’ve noticed that it is common for people who gravitate to gatekeeper jobs to be petty people who seem to enjoy wielding their authority over others. Not Liz. She was of a different kind. She was the rare kind of person who has the special ability to turn a mundane chore into an event to remember and enjoy.
She took our money, affixed the tag to the inside of our windshield and informed us of the privileges the little tag entitled us to. When she finished her little speech the four dollars we invested in it seemed a paltry sum. After she wished us good day she flashed a big smile and directed her last words at my nineteen-year-old son. “And where have you been all my life?” She said. Kyle laughed as we drove away and said; “You can tell that was a coined phrase,” but I noticed it still brought a smile to his face.
You can divide humanity roughly in half between people who manage to sap the joy out of everything in life, even a trip to the beach, and the “Lizes” of the world who have a flair for adding value to your day. Some people turn every task into a chore others turn every chore into an adventure. I think the State of Michigan should give Liz a raise.
(From Stonebridge Newsletter – Number 43)
P.S. This little piece was carried in the local paper in Fremont, where we lived at the time. I cut the article out and we delivered it to Liz. It brought a smile to her face. If you want a local example of this kind of mentality, go to Bob Evans in Woodhaven. Call ahead and ask if Andre is working. You will see what I men.
When the Lights Come Down
Here is a classic re-post to help you adjust to the post-Christmas season.
Let’s start with this wonderful song that captures all that I am trying to say:
My son Chuck is now sixteen years old. He’s six feet tall and he’s starting to get muscles. The other night he was doing his evening push-ups. I usually watch and watching makes me tired. He said; “Join me Dad, I’ll match you two for one.” He did. I did twenty-five sloppy half push-ups and he did fifty swift and perfect.
He hasn’t been that way for long. I remember when he still had his baby fat. Seems like it was just a few weeks ago, in fact. Once those years ago it was after Christmas and I was working in my study. It was a time of the year I have always liked right after all the holidays are over and we are turning the corner on another year. I always look forward to diving into the New Year with new challenges and fresh opportunities. Lois was home still cleaning up after our big New Year celebration. She was taking down the lights and the tree and putting away the decorations for the year. Chuck and the others were helping. Chuck was three, maybe four.
The phone rang and I answered it. Lois was on the line. “Ken,” she said; “Chuckie wants to talk to you, I’ll put him on.” “Okay,” I said. “Hey, little buddy, what’s up?” There was silence for a minute on the other end of the line, than a little cracking voice croaked into the phone; “Dad, Mom’s takin’ down the Christmas tree, come home and stop her.”
I put away may work for a while and came home. I asked Chuck to help me with the tree. We put on our coats, hats and gloves and dragged the once stately tree out to the garden leaving a trail in the snow. Then we stood for a while and looked quietly at it bright green against white. It was a sunny afternoon.
I put my arm around tiny Chuck and we were quiet for a while, then I cleared my throat and made a little eulogy speech for our departed friend. “Well, Chuck, it was a beautiful tree wasn’t it? We all enjoyed getting it and having it in our house for Christmas. Now it’s time to say good-bye to our tree. Chuckie, to our family the Christmas tree reminds us of eternal life. Jesus came to the world to die for us on the cross so we could have eternal life. In a minute we will light the tree and it will burn up and while it burns it will make us warm, but we will always have eternal life. Let’s just pray right now and thank the Lord for sending his son the Lord Jesus so we could always have eternal life, even when Christmas is over.”
We prayed and then stood silently watching the tree burn. Then we turned and walked back in the house where Lois had some hot chocolate to warm us. (Even when my little speeches don’t work, hot chocolate always helps at time like this).
It is natural to have an emotional let-down after we have put so much into our celebration of Christmas. I’m sure the same thing was true when the Lord Jesus walked the hills of the Holy Land. Jesus celebrated Hanukah. After the last day of the celebration of Hanukah, the Festival of Lights, Jesus stood to teach where He often did, in the courtyard of the Temple on Solomon’s Porch. During the feast huge beautiful Menorahs filled with candlesticks burned in the courtyard of the Temple. Each day throughout the festival as additional candles were lit, the light would grow brighter and brighter. People would gather to sing and worship and celebrate. But on this day those lights would have burned out making it gloomy in comparison and it was back to business as usual.
It was on that day Jesus stepped forward and in a loud voice said something very significant; “I am the light of the world. He who follows me will not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”
Can you see him now stepping out on the porch of heaven and watching us put away all our Christmas decorations. He knows the melancholy that often visits the human spirit at times like this. He sees into the deepest part of our over-shadowed souls and he steps out on the porch of heaven and says; “When all the lights are put away, I am still the light of the world.”
We live in a dark world where many have lost their way in the darkness of sin and all the foul things that go with that. But those who understand that Jesus came to earth to save his people from their sins, don’t pack away their hope and joy with the Christmas lights.
(From Stonebridge Newsletter – Number 66)
I’m Special (Christmas)
Gideon is a little fellow in my church who is afflicted with Downs Syndrome. The first time I met him I reached out to shake his hand and he looked a little frightened or confused. He hid his face in his mother’s lap. Eventually he got used to me and within a few weeks he would put out his hand the moment he saw me coming.
A couple years ago he was involved in the Christmas program. During the program the introduction began to play and the children walked to the front dressed as Christmas packages. Each child waddled up the aisle and climbed the steps to the platform with their legs and arms sticking out of a box wrapped in Christmas paper. A bow sat on the top of each child’s head.
They were well rehearsed and sang beautifully. The last song was a little number I think titled “I’m Special” At the end of the song the children were coached to shout out all together; “I’m special”. The song ended and all on cue the children shouted; “I’m special” and the song ended. The crowd laughed and applauded. The children were then to file off the platform and make their way back the aisle to sit with their parents for the rest of the program.
Things quieted for a moment as the children started to leave the platform. In the quietness of the moment Gideon looked out at the people, a big smile lit his face, and with a clear voice that carried all over the auditorium he shouted; “I’m special.” There was a smattering of laughter across the crowd.
Another second or two of silence followed and then Gideon said it again loudly and clear: “I’m special.” It was if he expected a reply. His teacher helped him off the platform. The crowd grew thoughtful and quiet. Half way back the aisle he said it again and then again as his mother gathered him into her arms. She warmly said, “yes you are Gideon, you are special.”
It was the line Gideon repeated over and over that still lives in the hearts of everyone who was there that night. We didn’t think to choose little Gideon for the lead part in the Christmas program, but God had other plans.
Little Gideon was named after a man who was used of God to deliver Israel during difficult times. When God chose Gideon to be one of the judges Gideon was cowering for fear, but God called him a mighty man of valor. God is like that. He chooses and uses people we tend to overlook. He inspires unlikely people to accomplish extraordinary things. Come to think of it that is what he did the night Jesus was born.
Recent Comments