I recently was blessed with the opportunity to preach at a
small, lovely church, in a small, quiet, rural town. I always accept these
opportunities when possible because these places remind me of home. Regardless
of what city I live in or where I call home, I will always have a country boy’s
heart. Visiting and preaching at these small towns is a lungful of fresh air
away from the urban setting. I have grown fond of the city but every now and
then I need a recharge of country air. Preaching at rural churches is just the
excuse I require to do so.
The church I was assigned to speak at was an old Cumberland
Presbyterian Church on the outskirts of a small city. It was built in 1829 and
was one of the denomination’s earliest buildings. Before the church was erected,
the land that it resides on was used for revival style camp meetings. These magnetic
worship meetings stemmed out of the first Great Awakening and were the product
of many protestant denominations. At any rate, the church was old and contained
a lot of history. Despite its age the building was in beautiful condition. This
told me there was a lot of love in the congregation. Their love for the
building shows in its appearance.
Not only did the congregation’s love for their building show
but also their love for the fellow person was quite apparent by the hospitality
they showed my girlfriend, Rachael and I upon our arrival. We were immediately
welcomed and showed around by one of the members. The worship leader, whose
father pastored the church in the 1960s, walked me through the liturgy and gave
me the opportunity to adjust it if need be. We then found our seats and worship
began.
When it came time for me to speak I stood behind the pulpit
and delivered a sermon using the Gospel of Luke, chapter 7, verses 1-10. This
is the story of the centurion whose servant was deathly ill and he sent message
to Jesus. Upon the soldier’s faith, Jesus heals the servant and says, “Not in
all of Israel have I see faith like this.” This is commonly used a faith story
but, upon studying it, I heard a different message. I felt like it was amazing
to hear of how much respect the Roman soldier had for his Jewish servants. He
must have really loved them because, despite being a Roman soldier and
worshiping Caesar, he built his servants a place of their own to worship. I not
only hear a faith story, but a respect story. Then, to reinforce this message,
Jesus comes in and gives that respect back to the centurion by fulfilling his
request. So, my message to the congregation was to show respect to people irrespective
of their race, gender, cultural upbringing, or religious background. I started
the homily with an inductive approach by retelling a scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
Dr. Jones, Willie Scott, and Little Round are sitting at the table of a royal
prince. The three of them are presented with an array of foods they and we
could not dream of ingesting. Nevertheless, they showed respect and appreciated
the hospitality.
I went on with the sermon and wrapped it up with a
benediction in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then, each of the
members came and introduced themselves to Rachael and I. I received a number of
compliments on my message, which is always reassuring for any preacher. One
lady, an eighty-seven year old elder of the church, complimented me and invited
the two of us for lunch. Both feeling quite hungry, we delightfully accepted
the offer. She joyfully asked where my car was parked and insisted on riding
with us so that she may direct us to her house. Rachael and I made a glance at
each other as to say, “When in Rome”. When we arrived at the lady’s house it
was like walking into a past experience. It was your typical grandmother’s
house as a child. It had an old musty smell, there were little trinkets
arranged everywhere, and the only sound was the tick of the old clock on the
wall. It was nostalgic. She requested that we have a seat in the living room
while she prepared lunch. Her son, who was also the worship leader at church,
was present. He sat with us to converse and entertain while lunch was being
finalized.
As the three of us talked two things kept going through my
head. 1) Why is there not a TV in this TV room? 2) Meat was about to be served.
Eleven years have past that pork, beef, or chicken has not entered my digestive
system. In fact, fish is the only meat I have eaten in over eleven years. “It’s
ready! Ya’ll come in to the kitchen and make your plates,” she said. As I rounded
the corner, there it was, a large container of enough pulled pork to feed a
family. She looked at us and said, “Ya’ll do like barbecue, right?” Friends, is
it a coincidence that I just preached a sermon over respect? “Yes mam, we do!”
I replied. When in Rome, Capernaum to be exact, the Roman soldier built a
church for his Jewish servants. Rachael, being an avid meat eater, was soaking
it up, loving the whole thing. She saw it coming as I did. As we all sat at the
dinner table, beautifully arranged with linens, silverware, and the hostess’
best plates, I devoured, not one but, two barbecue sandwiches, potato salad,
baked beans, and a deviled egg. A couple of times, as I consumed my pork
sandwiches, Rachael smiled and asked, “How is it?” “Delicious!” I replied with
joy. Upon finishing our meals we were invited back into the living room (the TV
room without a TV) for more conversation. She wanted to know all about us,
where we were from, our families, our future, and many other questions. She
asked if I had plans of coming back to preach and I assured her that my hope
was definite.
After Rachael and I departed we were in a constant laugh
about the experience. I have preached in several diversely different churches
in the past numerous years but this one has created a memory that will be long
lived. I hope someday I can go back to the church and tell of this experience
so we may all have the opportunity of a good laugh.
Peace
