How I Met Your Mother (Without the Bar and Barney) – My Eulogy at Myra’s Funeral

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The first time I saw Myra, I was sitting in the Jones Hall dining room at Memphis State University with friends, including her then-current boyfriend. Barry and I were a part of Young Life Leadership, a para-church organization devoted to introducing adolescents to Jesus Christ and helping them grow in their faith. Interestingly, Barry had piqued a curiosity in Myra to know more about Christ. But, that particular day, she stormed up to the table and gave her a piece of her mind about something he had done that made her mad. She left and he laughed it off…but that was the beginning of the end for Barry. However, I didn’t know that.

A few months later, I began to see her at my home church. I later learned that a young adult member of the church and Myra’s co-worker, Lisa Woods Cannon, had been fielding some spiritual questions that Myra had. Lisa got to a point where she said, “You need to talk to my pastor.” So, Myra came one Sunday morning and told Herb Hodges that she would like to visit with him. He told her to come back for the evening service and she did. However, that night a missionary spoke, and she was bored to tears. She said if he had spoken in the morning service she would never have returned. The irony is that a few years later she had a passion for teaching GAs, a girls’ mission organization, and she made three mission trips to Venezuela.

Nevertheless, she made an appointment to meet Herb. Although she had gone to church as a child and early adolescent, she never knew what it was to have a personal and growing relationship with Christ. Myra came week after week with new questions that she had from reading assignments Herb had given her from God’s word.  

As a result of those meetings with Herb, she professed her faith in Jesus as he Lord and Savior. He explained that she should be baptized in obedience to Christ’s command to give a public response or an outward symbol of her new inward commitment. He suggested, what better time could there be than the upcoming Easter Sunday morning to announce to the church her intent to be baptized and also give her testimony of coming to faith in Christ. She didn’t know that the testimony component was not the regular practice in our church when one walked the aisle…so she just did it. At the end of the service, she stood at the front of the church and a long line of members welcomed her into the church family. I wanted to make a connection with her by mentioning the mutual friendship we had with Barry. Fortunately, the Lord thwarted that comment because when I took her hand, I lost my prepared speech. Instead, I stammered out something like “I’m Chuck Spindler and I have a friend who is a friend of yours.” I walked on, thinking “stupid, stupid, stupid.” I even told my sister, Mary how foolish I felt in that encounter. However, it was just peculiar enough of a church pickup line to generate some curiosity later, for she asked Lisa, “Who is Chuck Fenton?” 

Myra did not immediately merge into the young adult (collegiate) group. She often sat by herself in our large sanctuary. But one Sunday night I got the courage to invite her to join our group for pizza after church. She accepted, and we began to hang out in group settings over the spring and summer months of 1976. We developed a strong friendship without the pressure of romance for the next six months. We prayed together, we talked about what we were learning through our personal Bible studies, and we memorized scripture together. And when we started dating in August those habits continued into our marriage on December 18, 1977. 

Myra was involved in the collegiate Navigator ministry with a strong emphasis on discipleship, reproducing believers after the pattern of 2 Timothy 2:2. She took seriously the call to entrust to faithful people what she had learned, so they, in turn, could teach others also. Whether it was the milk of the foundational, elemental Bible truths in children’s Sunday School or the solid food and the word of righteousness for the maturing woman of faith, her goal was as the writer of Hebrews says, to train them to discern good and evil. (5:12-14). 

Along the way, many of you have been her disciples, you might not have known to put that word to it, but you were. Just as Paul said “Be imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ” you have discerned in her those winsome ways of Christ that were demonstrated in her lifestyle and teaching and by which you find yourself imitating Myra’s words and actions. 

Psalm 90:10 says, “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.” Now this verse does not say God caps our life at the age of 70 or 80. Nor is it a promise that we will live that long. However, it does speak of the toil and trouble that we endure in life and that all too soon it is finished, and we fly away or die. Coincidentally, Myra lived exactly to the age of seventy and struggled with Parkinson’s disease for over 30 years, initially with just weakness on her right side but finally with the inability to verbally communicate, ambulate, and personally take care of her own needs. 

My sister, Mary, wrote of the losses that we all experienced over the year of her disease:  

“I’ve missed the talks alone with Myra that Parkinson’s Disease (PD) robbed. I hate that PD robbed Mackie’s grandchildren of the fullness of her creativity, quiet humor, and open expressions of delight in children. I’m sorry that Bethany [our Associate Pastor’s wife] couldn’t draw on the years of experience as a pastor’s wife: with all its ups and downs, disappointments, joys, misunderstandings, and spiritual breakthroughs. I hate that Chuck will not have a couple’s trip to the beach or the Grand Canyon. But oh, Myra is restored. She’s living with sight after faith. She’s absent – but present with the Lord. Thank you, Jesus: for my sister, for her sharing, for the love and acceptance and welcome she always showed me. And thank you that she introduced Denny [her husband] to Culvers.” 

POSTSCRIPT: Myra and I celebrated our 46th wedding anniversary on December 18. It was a non-event for at that time she was bedridden and had begun the process of active dying. refusing food and water. Early on December 27, I awakened after dozing off for about an hour to discover she had made the transition from mortal to immortal, from the temporal to the eternal.

While there is and will continue to be sadness in her absence, there is joy in the assurance we know she is whole and healed and in the presence of her Lord and Savior. We have the hope that we will see her again and our grandson, Silas [see My Birthday Present]. We grieve with hope!

5 For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 2 For indeed in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven, 3 inasmuch as we, having put it on, will not be found naked. 4 For indeed while we are in this tent, we groan, being burdened, because we do not want to be unclothed but to be clothed, so that what is mortal will be swallowed up by life.5 Now He who prepared us for this very purpose is God, who gave to us the Spirit as a pledge. 6 Therefore, being always of good courage, and knowing that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord— 7 for we walk by faith, not by sight— 8 we are of good courage, I say, and prefer rather to be absent from the body and to be at home with the Lord. (2 Corinthians 5:1-8, NASB)

2 Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is. 3 And everyone who has this hope fixed on Him purifies himself, just as He is pure. (1 John 3:2-3, NASB)

Remembering David Hughes

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It’s not often that i’m stopped for long on a Facebook post as I casually scroll through the family, food or fun pics of friends. However, this morning a post from a complete stranger stopped me and impacted me in a way I didin’t expect. The comment, “Rest in Peace, Uncle David,” with the inclusion of three pictures of my old friend put an immediate pall over me, a flood of memories, a sense of regret, but also a knowledge that I’ll see David Hughes again.

I met David in the Messick High School lunchroom. He was a stitch, a natural comic, who could, as an observer of life, quickly turn almost any situation into a joke. I was immediately drawn to him and wondered why he was drawn to me, but we became fast friends. We weren’t exclusive because we still had other friends with whom we would hang out, but we hardly missed lunch together, weekly Young Life meetings, Friday night football/basketball games, after-game gatherings with classmates at Danvers, or cruising.

I came to realize that maybe I was more of the sidekick who unwittingly helped David carry out his humor. One day we were walking down the hallway just after David stopped at the water fountain. As a classmate walked toward us David squirted through his teeth a sideways, stream of water, passing in front of me and hitting the boy as he was almost even with me. It was a direct hit to which David immediately pushed me and said, “Chuck! I can’t believe you would do that!”

Underclassman, Ken Bennett was often a part of our lunch bunch. After lunch, we would retreat to the stairway landing between the second and third floors. From there we could watch the seniors return from their off-campus lunch. One day the Jr. High band returned from marching practice, entering the door right below us. David took a quick drink from his water glass and spewed the water on the kids below. In a flash, the band director, Tom Swayzee, came running up the stairs, and shouted, “What was that?” David non-chanlantly replied, “Water.” Mr. Swayzee shouted back, “What kind of water?” Appearing non-plussed by the question, David quickly replied, “H2O water.” Mr. Swayzee huffed up the half flight of stairs to the band room, and we erupted into laughter.

I think because neither David, Ken nor I were fraternity affiliated, David named us “The Window Sill Gang” in keeping with our after-lunch hangout. Just as fraternities and sororities had a car horn honk as they passed members’ homes, we had one, too! David and I typically did the driving anytime we cruised or went to games. If we were in my dad’s ’67 Mustang, David would always call “shotgun,” taking the passenger seat. That left Ken to sit on the center hump in between the bucket seats. After leaving a game at Halle Stadium, we hit the red light at Mt Moriah and White Station. The intersection was crowded with game traffic and David bent over at the waist to make it appear that Ken and I were more than just “friends.” Of course, Ken was then doing his best to lift David back to an upright position.

When the 1973 Messick High Yearbooks came out, I noted to David a picture in which it appeared his hand was between the legs of cheerleader, Penny Heck. Even her expression gave some sense that David was up to one of his spontaneous antics. However, closer inspection revealed that they were Penny’s hands. However, David said that he drew stripes on Penny’s sleeve to match his own, further accentuating the optical illusion. Only Penny can verify that story.

We remained friends in college at Memphis State University. During that time we both worked at a grocery store, with David recommending me to the manager. We also served in the Young Life ministry and would hang out in the upstairs office on Southern Avenue, overlooking the Southern Railway tracks that separated the main campus from student parking and the Rec facility. Because there was no pedestrian bridge or tunnel, walking across the rails was the only way to get to your car or recreation class. From our picture window, we would often watch with amusement as students began running, hoping to beat the train as the locomotive blew its horn at the nearest crossing. We would take bets on who wouldn’t make it across the tracks in time.

David had a life-altering diving accident in which he was shallow diving from the beach and hit the bottom of the lake with his head, breaking his neck. After months in the hospital and rehabilitation unit, amazingly David was able to walk again. While he lacked some feeling due to the injury, the casual observer might notice something unusual about his gait. However, one would not have known of the paralysis that he originally experienced.

We both got married. I finished college and took a job with the Tennessee Department of Human Services. The last time I saw David, he was working for his father-in-law (as I recall), spray-painting the bridges that were a part of the newly completed I-40 northern perimeter. I pulled over, we had a quick chat, agreed we needed to get together and then we both got back to work. That next January, I was pursuing my ministry call at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth. We never talked again.

Over the years, these stories and others have been passed down to my kids and friends. I tried to find him on the internet and eventually, a former classmate gave me his phone number. I called but didn’t reach him. Then I found out he was on Facebook and he accepted my friend request, but there was never any dialogue.

And so…today I grieve the loss of a friend with whom I had so many significant high school and college experiences. And although we lost touch, I remain touched in what was a relatively short-term relationship…seven years. Because of our common faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, I am grateful that our hope in Christ allows me to face this loss and others with the hope that I’ll see David again and comfort.

13 But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. 14 For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. 15 For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. 18 Therefore comfort one another with these words.

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 (NASB)

Thanks for the laughs and the demonstration of faith and perseverance in suffering. See you later, David!

The Cowtown Marathon and Smiles at Mile 17

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My daughter had been telling me how much fun it was to have The Cowtown Marathon pass right in front of their house the last Sunday of February. We decided to take some vacation time that coincided with that event in 2019. It really was a blast! I returned in 2020 just before the pandemic shut down the world. We returned for the resumption of the full marathon in 2022 after they went virtual in 2021.

The neighborhood in the Texas Christian University area uses the event as an excuse for a block party. Neighbors gather up and down the street to cheer on the runners as well as give out water, pickles, bananas, bandaids and vaseline (runners know why). One neighbor blasts music complete with professional sound system and d.j. Kids play and parents party. However, I’m on my recumbent trike taking pictures!

Of course! I have to take pictures, and it’s hard to know when to stop. From the first speedsters to the last strollers, I usually get everyone’s pic. However, I was having a camera malfunction last year and shot several frames with my backup when I realized the shots were extremely overexposed. A runner saw my pics on Instagram and asked if I got his pic. As I searched the time at which he passed by, I could only deduce that he was in the overexposed section. We’ve become Instagram friends and I hope to redeem myself this year.

Since I’m not doing this professionally, it’s hard to know if any of the runners see their pics. Because of the overwhelming number of shots, I made a video montage last year, I titled it “Smiles at Mile 17.” I decided that will be my hashtag for photos on Facebook and Instagram this year. We’ll see if that strategy works.

Here is last year’s video.

The 2022 Cowtown Marathon – Smiles at Mile 17

If you’re running The Cowtown Marathons on February 26, 2023, I hope to capture your Smiles at Mile 17!

2022 Iowa State Fair Photography Salon

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I haven’t made a post for quite a while (June of 2022 to be specific). I realize that my last post asked for your pick of my pano submission. In reality the grain bin pano was already submitted, and I’m happy to say it was chosen for display.

Edge of Night

While not winning an award, it is an honor to be selected for display. It was among 23 (37% of submissions) in the panoramic category that were displayed, with only seven receiving an award.

In addition to this photo, I entered three additional photos, rounding out the maximum allowed submissions of four. I typically enter the Themed category. “The Open Road” was the 2022 focus. It was my only submission that was not selected for display. Only 12 of 32 entries in the Black and White class were displayed.

Road to Glory

I submitted another black and white in the People class. I took this picture of four of my grands a few years back at Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. It was partially chosen for entry because I won the People – Color class in 2021 with my “Bubble Girl” photo, featuring my oldest granddaughter. That precipitated requests from her siblings to have a submission as well. While it was not a winner, it was displayed, and they proudly posed with it when they came up for the State Fair. 38% or the 81 entries were exhibited. A small feature that I loved about this capture is the small rivulet of water that connects in middle foot to the foot in the reflection.

Four on a Bench
Four on a Bench

My last submission was in the Animal (Color) class. I felt it was the least likely to go through to exhibition, but it made it! A farm family in my church let me know of a Great Horned Owl nest on their acreage. I went out on a few occasions and caught this photo in the late nestling stage. It was among 74 or 251 entries that were exhibited.

The Better to See You

So with three out of four submissions making it to exhibition, I was very pleased. Only 10% of photographers had three entries progress through the judging process. There is a merit award for those who have all four entries exhibited. Curiously, no one received that honor in 2022.

There is a Youth Division in which the top age is 17. My grandson captured a picture of his dog that I thought would be a worthy entry. He was six at the time he took the picture with an iPhone. His photo was also exhibited, making him the youngest photographer exhibited at the Photography Salon!

Whit with “My Great Dog”

A total of 2,191 photos were entered by 394 photographers with 29% of entries exhibited. The numbers of submissions have been down post-pandemic. It will be interesting to see if numbers rebound this year. So that’s the update of 2022 Iowa State Fair Photography Salon. Entry information for 2023 will be released in April on the Iowa State Fair website. Out of state and international entries are welcomed. The special Theme Class for 2023 is Sunrise/Sunset. It should be a highly competitive class. I’ll drop a few of my potential 2023 entries as the June deadline approaches.

Iowa State Fair Photography Salon – Pano Category

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All entries have been submitted to the Iowa State Fair Photography Salon. Now it’s up to the judges to go through over 3,000 entries and select the award winners and exhibited photos. Notifications will go out in July to let photographers know if they’ve received an award and/or have photos displayed during the Fair’s run August 11-21. Just to be exhibited is an honor, since less than 30% are displayed.

One of my four allowed entries among 24 categories was in the Panoramic class. Since the one was already submitted, it is included with three other possible submissions. Which one would you pick (if any) to submit. The other three have never been submitted, so your choices may direct a future submission. Thanks for the help.

A – Snowy Retreat

B – The Edge of Night

C – Sunset Reflections

D – Winterset Wreaths

Leave a comment below or on the Facebook page from which this blog was linked.

2022 Iowa State Fair Photography Salon (Special Theme)

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This year’s Photography Salon’s special theme category is “The Open Road.” In addition to three other different category submissions, I entered one of the below for this special theme. Not saying which one I submitted, but there were some other options. Which one (if any) would you submit?

A
B
C
D

I’ll post my four submissions in July after the acceptance/rejection notices are sent out.

See You Later, Harry

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My brother-in-law, Harry W. Thomas, has a sound mind and healed body as he came into the presence of Jesus Sunday evening. Suffering from dementia and heart disease for the past 7+ years, he has been reunited with his daughter, Amy and all the saints, who have preceded him.

Still newlyweds in this photo, Harry was to lose his father a few months later from a massive heart attack, during the fall harvest. Harry, Sr. was 45.

I was eleven when he married my sister. Because I was the youngest and only boy in my family, he was my second brother-in-law, and I was overjoyed to have new “brothers” as reinforcements. In addition to having another guy to play Sunday afternoon hoops in the backyard, “Butch” added a rural dimension to our family. While he and my sister worked primarily as radiology technicians, he grew up on a family farm. That remained in his blood and they tried their hand at farming several times. But he ultimately advanced to the level of nuclear medicine technologist and for a while he and Valerie traveled the country as locum professionals, serving six-months temporary staffing positions in hospitals.

Harry, Valerie and me on a stopover at their Arkansas home.

I won’t say that he corrupted me, but he did give me my first Swisher Sweet cigar to smoke. Then he gave me half box of cigars that unfortunately was confiscated as soon as they were discovered by my parents. Hunting was a passion and because we were not a hunting family, I never shot a firearm until Harry joined the family, and he gave me my first target shooting lessons. I even wore a John Deere cap as a teenager because of his influence.

He loved to eat and some of my best memories with Harry are centered around meals, whether at the family home on Barron where Mom prepared a big Sunday dinner or at the Thomas home in Arkansas where we shared many Thanksgivings. Mom always gave Harry one of the larger ice-tea glasses (likely to cut down of refills). On one occasion another brother-in-law noticed the disparity in his glass size and Harry’s. I think that brother-in-law received a larger glass at the next meal.

Getting a break from the Hospice House at Harry and Valerie's fifth-wheel RV parked at nearby Green Valley State Park.
Visiting Iowa during our mom’s hospice stay (wife, Myra, sisters, Valerie and Karen and Harry.

When Mom was at the hospice house, Valerie stayed during the duration. Harry came up for a short time, coinciding with “National Fried Chicken Day” (July 6). All day, he reminded us that for supper we were going to have “friiiieeed chick’n” (say that with your best Southern drawl). And we did. Throughout the meal he repeatedly said this is “gooood fried chick’n.” That was about the time that the dementia was becoming obvious and it was diagnosed shortly after that.

His love and laughter were both large. He always made a big entrance, and I’m sure he did the same yesterday evening! And I hope he was served some “friiiiiieeed chick’n.” I’ll see you later, Harry!

Amy (in color) died on June 17, 2000. I’m sure she was on the welcoming committee on the other side.

Guest Blog: At a Loss for Words — Anna Spindler Writes

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Like my daughter, Anna, it’s been over a year since I have blogged. Maybe I’ll be back soon, but until then I hope her words (which truly reflect my heart and mind during this last year) will resonate with you and give you HOPE! Please click on her link but if not, I will include the complete text below.

It’s been over a year since I have written anything in this space and longer since I’ve written any kind of blog at all. A year ago when I last wrote, it was Easter and the shock, fear, novelty, and uncertainty of COVID-19 and quarantine was still relatively new. My inner Anne of Green Gables […]

At a Loss for Words — Anna Spindler Writes

At a Loss for Words

Anna B.

It’s been over a year since I have written anything in this space and longer since I’ve written any kind of blog at all. A year ago when I last wrote, it was Easter and the shock, fear, novelty, and uncertainty of COVID-19 and quarantine was still relatively new. My inner Anne of Green Gables heart still thought it would all pass..and really I still can’t understand why it didn’t. Secretly, a year ago, I was actually enjoying permission to never leave my home.

Everything is different now. 

Since then, so much has happened in our world and country: George Floyd, race riots, loss of life to Covid, crushing fear because of Covid, a contentious election, the capitol attack, a bizarre snow storm in Texas, property loss, job loss, friend loss, faith loss…

LOSS. LOSS. LOSS.

Some have suffered on the macro level along with everyone else. And for many of us, there have been micro level every day normal life losses. My dog spent her last hours my arms earlier in the winter. My mom has descended much more deeply into the horrific throws of Parkinson’s Disease after battling it now for most of my life almost half of her’s. A cursory scroll on any social media tells me I’m not alone. 

And I’ve been quiet. 

I have always had all the words…and I just don’t anymore.

I’ve been quiet because I’m processing. I’ve been quiet because it is a new world that tells us we must process publicly and loudly. It is a new lie that tells us a computer screen is the appropriate place to work out our feelings and emotions and heart breaks. And if we don’t, we’re somehow COMPLICIT in the evils of this world.

I’ve been quiet because I’m scared to use my words. I’m scared of more loss, more anger. 

I’ve been quiet because we forgot about nuance, America. 

I’ve been quiet because we forgot about respectful and inquisitive discourse. 

I’ve been quiet because it’s all so loud out there. It’s loud and angry and unforgiving. One misstep, one “wrong” question and you’re canceled, but not after you’ve been completely attacked and maligned. 

I’ve been quiet because I’m weary. My husband always jokingly asks me if I’m weary versus just tired. Because to me, they’re different. Tired can be fixed with some sleep. Weary, is deep in my bones and soul. Weary comes after struggle and wrestling. Weary is what I am. 

I can’t keep up with the new rules and my legs are weak from running after them. Is this what middle age is?

Again, I have a feeling that I’m not alone. 

So here I sit on my yellow couch, staring at new growth outside of my window, wondering why my neighbor chopped down his perfect front yard tree, and snuggling with my naughty awful Beagle. My brain is full of the words I can no longer figure out how to communicate…

And I’m clinging to what I know is true. 

My God.

The only thing that is not shifting for me is God: both mother and father, savior and redeemer. Reconciler. Healer.

The fact is, I don’t have answers right now. I never did. But I do have God. The Holy Trinity. And I know that’s not a popular concept. I saw a Twitter repost the other day, “If you wonder why people are leaving the church right now…..” fill in the blank all the ways the church has messed up. And we have. We have messed up. For the entire life of the church, we’ve messed up. (I mean…have you read all of Paul’s letters to the New Testament church?)

I don’t wonder why people are leaving the church. They always have. They always will. I could write about Biblical illiteracy and the chance that some who talk a real big game never even knew Him. I could say all the things and maybe I will later. The fact is God has never been popular. It’s not my job to make him so. The world crucified his son, bloody and abandoned on a cross. 

But! I’m still clinging to Him. I’m still asking Him to change me. I’m still ever grateful for grace I never deserved, still don’t deserve. I’m still watching him move. I still see miracles…mainly small ones, mainly miracles deep in the crevices of my wicked heart. But I will believe. God is my very breath. And this is not toxic cheap Chrisitianity or positivity speaking. This is desperation speaking. 

Oh friend, this is my prayer for you, me, the collective us, our children and families and churches..that we peel it all back and find that God, Jesus, Holy Spirit is enough. I pray you’ll experience Him in the deepest parts of your spirit. That whatever kind of grief shrouded the last year and whatever hurt you’ve walked through with humans will be mended in relationship with the Divine. 

I’m clinging to the words of Jude to the New Testament church, 

But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.

Be merciful to those who doubt; save others by snatching them from the fire; to others show mercy, mixed with fear—hating even the clothing stained by corrupted flesh.[f]

To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! 

Amen.

Thoughts for the Day – March 24, 2020

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Beloved,
 
Just touching base with you all as we begin another week of limited gatherings. The reality is that these restrictions of gatherings less than 10 may be longer than just 15 days. While we pray for this pandemic’s effects to flatten out, it continues to grow in the U.S.
 
With that said, we continue to look for ways to “do church.” Thanks to all who participated with us in online worship on Sunday. We are sorry for the initial audio problems, but had most of it worked out by the second song. If you missed the service, a video with those first 8 minutes clipped is available HERE. We found that some needed to “refresh” their browsers in order to deal with screen freezes. We’ll continue to work on improving our online broadcasting.
 

This was a screen shot of our online worship last Sunday in which Joe Powers made announcements, Cindy Taylor, Neal McRae, Aaron Richardson and I provided worship music while Tim Redd, Sandy Seals and Ben Walker handled the audio/visuals. This kept our “in person” gathering under 10, so we could reach over 130 online!

Another observation is that we are relational people. God created us to be in community, and this is testing so many of us who are feeling more isolated. Even the most introverted among us still needs relationships. In some of my reading this week I came across this statement: “One hundred years ago, French sociologist Émile Durkheim used the phrase ‘collective effervescence’ to describe the shared emotional excitement people experience during religious ceremonies.” Although, online gatherings are a poor substitute for in person events, one of the things about Sunday that was so good to see was the interaction happening in the comments.
 

“Jojo is excited she can finally come to church with us!”

Because we are relational, one of the most beneficial exercises we can do for ourselves is to reach out to others. While we don’t need research to validate the Word of God, again and again it has proven what Paul said in Acts 20:35: “In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’ ” Send a text, make a call, drop a card, invite someone to dinner, deliver some groceries or baked goods, take a meal…do something that will help maintain the relationships you have and build some new ones!

Finally, let’s be creative. After all, we were created in the image of God and His first act was to create. What are ways in which we can utilize social media, create new ministries, etc., in these days of social distancing? Ask God to give us fresh ideas that will carry us through these challenging times and beyond!

Blessings!

Pastor Chuck
 

There’s Within My Heart a Melody

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As I was looking for wildlife on a late afternoon drive on Wednesday, I heard the unmistakable song of an Eastern Meadowlark. On it’s migratory path through Iowa, I think most move on toward Minnesota, Wisconsin and Canada for the summer. Hearing before I saw it, my eyes (and lens) finally found it on a utility wire, throwing its head back every time it let loose with its flute-like melody. After it flew away, I continued my drive only to hear another Meadowlark a few miles away. This one lighted on a cedar and sang away.

Tonight as spring begins, we have thundershowers. Both the bird’s song and the storm cause my thoughts to run to God’s Word and its directive to praise the Lord:

7Praise the Lord from the earth, Sea monsters and all deeps; 8 Fire and hail, snow and clouds; Stormy wind, fulfilling His word; 9 Mountains and all hills; Fruit trees and all cedars; 10 Beasts and all cattle; Creeping things and winged fowl; 11 Kings of the earth and all peoples; Princes and all judges of the earth; 12 Both young men and virgins; Old men and children. 13 Let them praise the name of the Lord, For His name alone is exalted; His glory is above earth and heaven.

(Psalm 148:7-13, NASB)

 

So in these days of so much uncertainty, take a cue from creation and sing your praise to the Lord…for we never know when we will wing our flight to worlds unknown.

There’s within my heart a melody; Jesus whispers sweet and low, “Fear not, I am with you, peace, be still,” in all of life’s ebb and flow.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, sweetest name I know,  fills my every longing, keeps me singing as I go.

Though sometimes He leads through waters deep, trials fall across the way; though sometimes the path seems rough and steep, see His footprints all the way.

Soon He’s coming back to welcome me  far beyond the starry sky; I shall wing my flight to worlds unknown,  I shall reign with Him on high.

“He Keeps Me Singing, Luther B. Bridgers (1910)
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A Meadowlark’s song at Green Valley State Park, Creston, IA (3/18/20)