Posted in Moments of grace

Let’s do a little gardening

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“I need some help planting these flowers.”

That’s all it takes. That’s all my five-year old grandson needs to hear, and he’s all in.

Our first project involved a couple of Blue Daze plants which always do great in our garden soil. He wanted to plant blue flowers, which aren’t that common. Even these are a bit on the purple side, which he pointed out to me. He carried the two quart containers out back, while I brought the shovel, some branch trimmers (I knew we’d encounter lots of roots at the base of the pine trees), and a watering can.

He dug the holes as I lopped off some uncooperative roots. I showed him how to take the plant from the pot and shake out the roots a little bit and place the plant in its new home. He filled in the dirt and started to work on the second hole. After we were done, he gave both plants a nice long drink in their new home. Each time he comes over the house, I always remind him to water his flowers.

Our second project involved part of an old whiskey barrel my wife wanted in the corner of the patio, a few bags of potting soil and a twelve-pack of impatiens with orange flowers. The impatiens were a variety I hadn’t seen before, suitable for both shade or sun (according to the label.). I found a few old landscape bricks to take up space in the barrel, and then added the soil. Now the fun part. I pulled back a small hole with my trowel as he stuck each plant in it’s place and covered up the roots with dirt. Once again, we treated our new guests to a tall cool drink.

One of my go to places to relax or destress is the garden. Soil, plants and water are cheap therapy when you’ve got a lot of stuff on your mind. The sun, the breeze and a little dirt under the fingernails always take my mind off my worries.

I think my dad taught me most of what I know about gardening. My dad always had amazing gardens. Front yard beds full of crocuses, tulips and hyacinth in the spring were followed by azaleas and roses as summer approached. Dad’s beds were immaculate, too. No weeds, cultivated soil and gorgeous blooms were the rule in front of our house. The vegetable gardens were out back. Lettuce and spinach first, followed by peas and beans, and then carrots, kohlrabi, peppers and bushels of tomatoes by the end of the summer. His carefully composted rows of vegetables produced much of what we saw on the table throughout the year. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this help keep our family fed during my growing up years.

The gardening gene must be dominant. When we arrived at our first call in Coventry, CT, we planted a garden. And what a garden! Our parsonage was on the four acres next to the church’s four acres. I borrowed a rototiller and broke up a 20′ x 40′ area of the backyard for our garden. If someone tells you that New England soil is rocky, they are understating the conditions. I think we found more rocks that soil! Forget the spade. You need a spading fork. We got it done and planted corn, sunflowers, several varieties of beans (including some that were purple!), peas, carrots, lettuce, spinach, tomatoes and melons. There were also some asparagus beds in place.

My harvests had mixed results. We got some sweet corn, but many ears didn’t properly develop. Some kind of bug ate a lot of the sunflower seeds. The cantaloupe never got bigger than a softball. We had lots and lots of peas and beans, though. Do you know that purple beans will turn green when you boil them? I’d say our attempts were average. We ate a lot of peas right off the vine and had plenty of beans.

We had a garden at our second call in Iowa. Our backyard in West Des Moines had rhubarb. It didn’t matter how cold the winter or how hot and dry the summer, we had huge rhubarb plants. No gardening talent needed there. My wife made some amazing rhubarb and rhubarb-strawberry pies. The soil produced some amazing zucchini, too. We made lots and lots and lots of zucchini bread. Our best gardening project, though, were strawberries. I bought a whole bunch of plants for our backyard, carefully mulching each one. In year two, we began to see some nice strawberries begin to form. That’s exactly when I got the call to Florida. We never got to see how that harvest looked.

Florida gardening? Totally different than up north. After much trial and error, my philosophy is this: plant native and plant what grows in your yard. My soil is crazy sandy, the growing seasons are weird, and plants take over your yard when you aren’t watching. Winter freezes are few and far between. Hurricanes blow in weeds you never expected to find. Plants you gave up on sometimes grow back. Plants that look great in the yard across the street die in mine. Go figure.

When I put my hands in the dirt, I leave something behind and I take something with me. Along with seeds, fertilizer and water, the garden always seems to have room for worries and frustrations. It return it gives peace and serenity along with blossoms and fruit.

Thus, the allure of a shovel, soil and a watering can endures. I can still care for our little piece of dirt, planting and watering and watching things grow. I can still eat the fruits of our labor, share them with others and enjoy the colors of creation.Maybe that’s why gardening is so appealing and amazing. It brings me close to the Creator, reminds me of His creation, and gives me a chance to share that with a new generation. When I’m close to Him, I discover a peace that surpasses my understanding.

Posted in Devotions

Would you do it for Him?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

I ran across these interesting words in a letter the apostle Paul wrote to believers in the ancient city of Corinth: “If food makes my brother stumble, I will never eat meat, lest I make my brother stumble” (1 Corinthians 8:13).

That’s very noble of you, Paul. But why is that such a big deal? Why should I have to adjust my behavior so that I don’t upset someone else? That’s their problem, not mine, right?

Food offered to idols?

I guess the first thing to wrap my mind around is the whole idea of “food offered to idols” in 1 Corinthians 8. I guess that was a thing back then, even in a pagan culture. While we mostly deal in currency for contributions, gifts of food could be brought to the temples. What are you going to do with all that food? Well, you could sell it in the market, which means you could also buy it in the market.

So Paul had to address the issue of whether or not it was OK to eat food wrapped up in pagan worship practices. On the one hand, it’s no big deal. There is only one true God and only one Savior, Jesus. Those other gods don’t even really exist. So it’s a moot point.

On the other hand, maybe you are someone who grew up in that pagan lifestyle and had become a believer in Christ. You had left behind your previous life to follow him and his teachings. And it really bothered you when others acted like it was no big deal.

I doubt if you’ll find any ritual food for sale at a grocery store. It seems like this inspired word of God doesn’t have much application for us.

Until your choices, actions or habits affect someone else.

Would you do it for them?

I’ve always been hypersensitive to serving or consuming alcohol when in the company of those in recovery from alcoholism. I know it’s their problem. They have to manage their addiction. I just don’t want to do anything to jeopardize how far they’ve come. I can drink a soda that night.

When we had a guest at our house who was extremely sensitive to gluten in food, we went out and bought a new rolling pin to use with gluten-free flour in food preparation. We didn’t have to do that. She could have eaten a salad. But hey, I can eat gluten-free for a day or two.

It is far too easy to bash other Christian denominations, pulverizing their beliefs with my own church’s doctrines. However, sensitive to the fact that many of my listeners have family and friends in those very denominations, I don’t have to do that. I can positively present what I believe and why without attacking the people you love.

Have you recently been asked or told to wear a face mask? Chances are you’re not happy about that. I’m not. It’s certainly not convenient. We don’t like it when someone tells us to do something we don’t think is wise or helpful. And we may be absolutely right. Maybe it is ridiculous, totally ineffective and a violation of our rights.

But would you do it for someone else? Would you do it for someone who was scared? Would you do it for someone who was grieving a lost loved one? Would you do it just to give someone peace of mind?

Would you do it for him?

Jesus said that if you want to come after him, you deny yourself, take up your cross and follow. Sometimes that means you set aside your rights, your preferences, your convenience and your passion for the sake of someone else. Sometimes you do it for Jesus. And whatever – even wearing a face mask – we do for the least of his brothers or sisters, we do it for him.

Posted in Moments of grace

We went back to church today.

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It felt familiar. It felt strange. It felt like home. It felt uncomfortable. It felt warm. It felt cold. It was a morning filled with contrasting sensations.

After seven weeks of “sheltering-in-place” virtual worship, we opened the doors of our church last Sunday morning. For an hour, the distance between members of the congregation shrank from miles to six feet. A thoughtful set of precautions reminded us of the pandemic. Psalms, hymns and spiritual songs reminded us of God’s powerful healing grace.

My mind vividly recalls these sounds and images of our first week back together:

  • For many, getting ready for church includes putting on a mask. Wearing gloves to church? The resurrection of an old tradition! Ushers and elders wore them for certain tasks. I wore them to distribute communion.
  • We did not pass the offering plates. Tithes and offerings were left at the door. Many were given electronically. Some were given by text.
  • We removed all the hymnals, bibles and visitor cards from the pews. Their absence made the church look even emptier. Until the worshipers began to gather…
  • …but the back rows were not filled! We sat on the aisles in every other pew, so many got to experience Sunday morning more “up close and personal” than ever before.
  • The little ones did not race to the chancel for a children’s sermon. I brought it back to them, to the place where they sat with their families.
  • The communion rail remained vacant. One person at a time came forward to stand at the altar and receive the sacrament.
  • My iPhone was perched on a tripod off to the side, live-streaming the service to many who were not yet ready to join us in person. Who knows how many actually worshiped with us on this day?
  • The sanctuary was filled with sound! It wasn’t just me speaking and singing and praying in an empty room. It was dozens of voices together, thanking and praising and praying. It was wonderful.
  • We had first time visitors in worship. The Spirit still gathers His people together.
  • Vigilant volunteers wiped down pews, door handles and chancel surfaces after everyone else left. (The filthy rags revealed we should have been doing this a long time ago.)

I can’t help but wonder if this is the new normal. Will we ever revert completely to how we gathered before? Will handshakes and hugs, kisses and high fives ever return to our assembly? Will we ever feel comfortable sharing books again? Or will we now always be hyper-conscious of the unseen germs all around us?

It’s only been one week. We’re learning as we go. I doubt we will soon forget how something so small can keep us apart. I just hope we never forget that someone so small – “to us a child is born” – can bring us together, too.

Posted in Moments of grace

A little and a lot

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I didn’t realize the irony until I hit “start live video” on my phone about 6:45 am on Easter morning, just as the blue began to take over the dark night sky. I hadn’t done a sunrise Easter worship service in over fifteen years. Why? Well, fewer and fewer people showed up for that service. I decided we could skip that service and put more effort into the two later gatherings. Now the number in attendance was zero because we were all staying home to be safe from catching or spreading CoVid-19. And there I was preaching to an empty room!

It’s usually about the numbers, isn’t it? A crowded room of worshipers generates more energy than a sparse gathering. Increasing attendance indicates a successful church. Declining numbers indicate that something is wrong. Empty pews make you start to feel like a coach with a losing record. If no one buys tickets, the circus leaves town, right?

This year, though, none of the rules apply anymore. In the middle of March, we closed the doors of the church as we sheltered in place at home, only going out to buy some food or take a walk around the block. I used the technology of a livestream on Facebook to send liturgy, hymns, prayers and a sermon into the homes of who knows how many as I stood in front of an empty room. I was preaching to no one and everyone all at the same time. And you know what? The numbers didn’t matter. They were irrelevant. I couldn’t tell who or how many were watching.

In a room full of people, other thoughts wander through my head as I lead worship, say prayers and preach sermons. I am constantly wondering, “Where is so-and-so?” Or, “Who is that, I don’t think I know them.” Sometimes, “Oh, that must be visiting family.” Occasionally, “Wow, I haven’t seen them in a long time!” Once in a while, “Where is everyone?” And on other occasions, “This is great! Look at how many people are here!”

None of those thoughts enter my mind when I’m standing in front of an iPhone on a tripod in the middle of an empty room. I’m simply focused on the task at hand. I’m more aware of my voice and my words and my pace. I pause more often. I am immersed in the moment.

That moment is gone. Next Sunday, we will be worshiping together for the first time in seven weeks. We will sit a little further apart and refrain from shaking hands, but our faces and voices will once again fill the room. Rather than focusing my gaze on one small camera lens, I’ll be engaging folks sitting in many different places throughout the semi-circular sanctuary. A camera will still send the message to those who choose to stay home and those who cannot attend.

But I believe the lessons of that moment will linger. I doubt the numbers, high or low, will make as much of an impression on me. But at least I won’t feel like a shepherd without sheep this week. I won’t worry about looking good on camera. I’ll know immediately whether I’ve connected with my audience.

I’m not going to pretend that I will no longer be excited by big crowds and disappointed by sparse ones. I know myself better than that. But I think that like the apostle Paul, I’ve learned a little more about being content with a little and with a lot.

Posted in Moments of grace

A month of phone calls

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

I’ve spent more time in the phone in the past month than I have in years.

Pastoral ministry to a “sheltering-in-place” congregation has been an interesting experience. Generally, over the course of a month, I would see and talk with most of the members of the congregation in worship, bible classes, meetings, nursing visits and visits to those sick or recovering at home or in the hospital. But when everyone, including myself, stays home for six weeks, that whole dynamic of church life is gone.

So I blocked out a few hours of time each day and called just about everyone who affiliates with our congregation, about two hundred families, over the past month. Here are some things I learned in the process.

  • Everyone was doing well! Yes, some had been sick or been recovering from a surgery, but no one had contracted the CoVid-19 virus. Our congregation has been blessed and spared so far.
  • Folks are notorious for not reporting new phone numbers, email addresses and even changes of address. I had to do a little detective work to find some folks, but now our records are up to date.
  • Many were thankful for the chance to chat with someone. The conversation always lasted longer than I expected. And more often than not, all I had to do was listen. For many, the church fills an important social as well as spiritual role in their lives, and they were thankful for a time to connect.
  • More than a few finally dipped a toe into 21st century technology. Some watched their first YouTube video ever when we uploaded holy week worship services. Others dusted off long neglected Facebook accounts to watch livestreams. A few learned how to contribute to the church online. A number finally began to read the weekly email I’ve been sending out for years. A good number learned how to be a part of a bible class via video conferencing.
  • I learned that for the most part, I have a positive relationship with the church family. Most wanted to know how I was holding up. They were glad to hear that I and my family are doing just fine. The majority also expressed their gratitude that I had delayed my retirement for another year.
  • With each call, I asked what they needed and what they needed help with. This first time through, no one had any immediate needs. Most wanted to help someone else. We’ve been very, very blessed.

So now I’m going through the list a second time. It’s been a month, and we’ve got new joys and sorrows, blessings and needs to share!

Posted in Moments of grace

Eleven types of virtual worshipers

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Jud Mackrill on Unsplash

It is indeed a brave new world. While I and most of my congregation shelter at home to avoid a contagious virus, Sunday morning worship has become a virtual occasion. I set up my iPhone on a tripod in the center aisle of the sanctuary, start a live broadcast on Facebook and proceed to lead worship and preach a sermon all by myself. (Well, actually, the organist has been there with me, too.) It’s a marvelous paradox. I am preaching to nobody and the entire world all at the same time.

Normally, on a Sunday morning, I would be preaching to a group of seventy to sometimes over 150 people. I would make eye contact, pause to get reaction, sow stories and reap responses from facial expressions, nods, smiles and laughter. Now, with none of that in the room, I have to imagine all of that in my mind. In some ways its not unlike my college radio days, when I spoke to a microphone in a small electronics-filled booth.

Here’s my light-hearted but certainly incomplete list of those I imagine using my broadcast or upload for Sunday worship until the quarantine lifts and we are back together again.

The Cut-to-the-Chase worshiper fast-forwards to the sermon for instruction and inspiration. Without the surrounding bread of liturgy and prayers, they consume the meat of the morning. These might very well be those who always arrive late and often leave early on a normal Sunday morning.

The All-In worshiper gets up, showers, gets dressed, eats breakfast and tunes in exactly when the broadcast begins. This person fully participates with bible, hymnal and worship folder in hand, speaking and singing along, visibly and verbally responding to the message.

The Must-Not-Smile worshiper is a faithful Sunday morning attender, but simply sits and listens. They do not speak, sing, smile or respond in any way at all. Of course they’re blessed by the experience, but they do so very passively.

The Pause-and-Play worshiper is thankful for a virtual Sunday morning experience. They can pause the service for a potty-break, a drink, a snack, or a coffee-refill (and then another potty-break) and never miss a note of music or word of the sermon. When live worship gatherings resume, you’ll seem them leave and return to the sanctuary several times each morning.

The Responder is also grateful for an at-home time of worship. They talk back to the screen, ask questions and might even openly disagree with the preacher. I can’t hear them but I know they are there.

The Commenter relishes the opportunity to type in their comments during the service. I appreciate the greetings from far away places, the LOLs in place of laughter, and updates on sound and lighting. Unfortunately, once I hit the start button and the service begins, I can neither see nor respond to them until I scroll through them later.

The Anonymous worshiper is of course someone I’ve never met. My service is available to the public, so someone I don’t know may tune and watch some or all of the service.

I believe the Snack worshiper is common. How convenient to be able to sit down with a glass of wine and some cheese and crackers to worship! Put the service up on your big TV and the bowl of popcorn calls from the kitchen. And you don’t have to ever-so-quietly unwrap your piece of candy!

The Child-in-My-Lap worshiper is common, too. Little ones are drawn to screens like bees to flowers, so they love to sit and watch with their parents. For a moment. But, they can get up and down unlimited times and not disturb anyone.

The Multi-tasking worshiper will have several windows open on their computer plus a phone nearby, too. Just in case a message, email or advertisement pops up. If you have to work from home now, you can listen and get some stuff done all at the same time.

The Non-Sunday morning worshipers are in paradise. You can tune in any time you want to during the week.

I’m pretty sure all these worshipers exist because I have consumed spiritual content in all of these ways. So whatever your style is, it’s OK. I’m talking to you!

Posted in Devotions

“Avenging the blood of his servants”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

2020 “By His Blood” Lent devotion #46

Photo by Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash

After this I heard what seemed to be the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, crying out,“Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for his judgments are true and just; for he has judged the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her immorality, and has avenged on her the blood of his servants.”  (Revelation 19:1-2) 

I’ll bet you’ve seen some of those big soccer games where the stands are full of thousands of fans, waving giant flags and singing songs to encourage their team. When the final horn blows and the game is over, their victory shouts are even louder! 

Take that image and picture the great multitude in heaven, cheering for the Lord’s victory over “the great prostitute,” finally making her pay the price for all the faithful who lost their lives to the powers of sin, death and Satan. But like any victory, this one was hard fought. It took the ultimate sacrifice by Christ to win that salvation. He was the servant of all, whose holy, precious blood and innocent suffering and death led to his glorious and powerful resurrection, the ultimate victory of all time. 

When we sing our songs of praise together in worship, we can and ought to imagine that multitude singing right along with us! While the earth might indeed be corrupt and believer’s lives are on the line, he always has the last word. “Salvation and glory and power belong to our God,” and nothing is ever going to separate us from his love! 

We win! Hallelujah! Thank you, Lord, for the best victory of all! Amen. 

Our Lenten journey comes to an end with this devotion. Thanks for traveling along with me. The many, many references to blood have given me a change to think deeply about our Lord’s amazing love for us, his plan of salvation for us, and the eternal life we have in him! I hope you’ve been blessed by such thoughts as well. 

Posted in Devotions, Lent

“Drunk with the blood of the saints”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

2020 “By His Blood” Lent devotion #45

Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

And I saw the woman, drunk with the blood of the saints, the blood of the martyrs of Jesus. (Revelation 17:6)

Symbolic of the evil which is very real in our world, the “woman” of Revelation has taken the lives of many believers. Martyrdom has always been a possibility for those who follow Jesus, who clearly said, “If anyone wants to come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me.” The way of the cross is suffering, self-sacrifice and yes, death itself. Trusting him means trusting him with our lives, not trying to hold onto them ourselves. 

While most who read this live in a nation where there is freedom to worship, many Christians in other places do not enjoy that privilege. To profess Christ, to be baptized, to assemble for worship or even have Christian friends is a death wish. Persecution is real, harsh and unrelenting. Following Christ is a treacherous path for them. 

And yet, they follow Christ. They don’t play it safe. They risk it all to call him Lord. They have truly taken to heart Jesus words not to fear those who can only hurt your physical body but can’t touch your soul. Instead they fear, love and trust the only who cares deeply about their bodies and souls. Their own lives are not nearly as valuable as the life they have found in Christ.

Like a treasure they’ve discovered in a field or a one-in-a-million precious pearl, they would never dream of giving up their precious Lord. 

You can’t hold on to both your own life and Christ. It’s one or the other. Since he’s the one who holds the power of life and death, I would rather be in his hands than my own. 

But that’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself. 

Lord, thanks for the life I have in you no matter what. Amen. 

Posted in Devotions, Lent

“Seas, rivers and springs of blood”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

2020 “By His Blood” Lent devotion #44

Photo by schuetz-mediendesign on Pixabay.com

The second angel poured out his bowl into the sea, and it became like the blood of a corpse, and every living thing died that was in the sea. The third angel poured out his bowl into the rivers and the springs of water, and they became blood. (Revelation 16:3-4)

The idea of all the water being turned into blood is reminiscent of the first plague God sent on Egypt to persuade Pharaoh to let the nation of Israel go free. Pharaoh refused. It would take nine more plagues before he would finally relent and release them. One after another, the Egyptian gods of sun, amphibians, darkness, livestock and rivers would submit to the authority of the one true God, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. 

The hardest to convert? People. Pharaoh was not about to roll over for a foreign people’s god. In fact, God’s own people of Israel weren’t one hundred percent sure he was the real deal. God sent many of these plagues for the specific reason of showing Israel who he was. Yet even after seeing the plagues, the parting of the Red Sea, manna on the ground and water from a rock, they still wondered if their God was actually capable of caring for them! 

What does it take to move us to submit to God’s authority? How many natural disasters must occur before we turn to him for help? How much must we suffer before we finally repent and turn to him for mercy? 
What do you think is going on when pollution kills sea life? What do you think is happening when toxins show up in our ground water? How many die around the world in places where there is no source of clean water? 
Is somebody trying to tell us something? 

Our God is always trying to tell us something. His word is living and active, proclaiming an eternal gospel. Though everything in this world will pass away, his word will endure forever. 

It’s time to listen!

Lord, I’m listening. Speak to me through your powerful word, and lead me in paths of righteousness. Amen.