Tag: church

Posted in Through the Bible Devotions

How much is all this going to cost?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“So Solomon built the house [of God] and finished it.” (1 Kings‬ ‭6‬:‭14‬).

When I asked a Bible study class how much they thought should be spent on a church building, most replied, “Less than we do.” I thought that was an interesting answer. People like beautiful, well-maintained spaces for worship. But many underestimate the cost and commitment involved.

The temple Solomon built in Jerusalem was beautiful. Huge rocks from a quarry. Cedar-paneled walls overlaid with gold. Carved angels, engraved Palm tree and flowers, and olive wood doors. The furnishings and fabrics were exquisite.

How much did this all cost? Scholars disagree. At the very least it’s tens of millions of dollars in today’s currency. It probably cost far more than that. Too much? Appropriate for the Almighty God?

It’s true that the overhead of a building consumes a significant part of a congregation’s budget. But it’s also true that a church building is a visual that God is a part of a community. It provides a place for God’s people to gather and encourage one another to live out our faith. It is a place to go in the worst moments of life to find hope. It’s a place that reminds us we’re not alone in this. We rejoice, mourn, live, and die together as God’s people.

God didn’t need a temple. Neither did his people. They worshipped for a long time without one. They would still fall into sin with one.

When a woman anoints Jesus’s feet with costly perfume, he’s touched by the nice thing she did for him. Perhaps we should look at temples and church buildings in a similar way.

Posted in church, Devotions, Through the Bible Devotions

Think twice before you mess with Abram or his family

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Joel Moysuh on Unsplash

A “through the bible” devotion from Genesis 14.

A number of years ago, two men from my church took me out to their gun club to do some shooting. They gave me lots of instruction since I had never shot before. Each had several guns with them they let me try, including some 9mm, a .22 target pistol, and a .357 revolver. I did well, hitting targets and a few bull’s eyes at 15 yards.

As they described the guns and how to use them, I asked, “How many guns do you own?”

“Right now, I have eleven.”

Eleven? Why does someone living in a relatively safe suburban neighborhood need nearly a dozen guns at home? In addition to handguns, their collection included a shotgun and several rifles. Apparently they are like potato chips. You can’t have just one. You need one to carry. You need one in the bedside table. You have a favorite for target practice. You have one you used to use for hunting. And so on.

“When Abram heard that his relative had been taken captive, he led out his trained men, born in his house, numbering 318, and went in pursuit as far as Dan.” (Genesis 14:14)

I never would have guessed Abram had an army. Servants? Yes. Workers who watched the flocks? Of course. But trained men, men ready to fight, men able to rough up four formidable kings that had captured Lot, his food, and his family? Think twice before you mess with Abram or his family!

It’s good to remember that we don’t do this alone. Training ourselves for godliness, we fight the good fight of faith together as a church. And God still gives us the victory.

Posted in church, Life

My own personal parking spot

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Gerrie van der Walt on Unsplash

I parked the car about one hundred yards from the front entrance of the church yesterday morning. After I dropped off my wife, I had to drive the entire length of grassy overflow parking area, past senior and guest parking spots, to find a spot.

I guess that’s what happens when your arrive ten minutes after the service starts. Worship was at 9:00, but we arrived for the bible class that starts at 9:15. Hey, I don’t mind the walk.

In fact, I used to pull my car into in the most remote corner of the parking lot on Sunday mornings. It was, unofficially, my designated parking spot. Why did I do that? Well, I figured my day would come and I would need a handicapped spot. Until then, since I was able to walk the distance, I would take the furthest spot.

What about rainy mornings? Yeah, they were a challenge. But once I got to the first building, I could use the covered walkway. If my car wasn’t there, everyone knew to welcome a guest preacher that day.

Who doesn’t like to see a church parking lot filled past capacity? On my way in, I commented to another walker, “I think I’m going set up a table about halfway to church and give out free water. We both chuckled. But you know what? When the summer sun is beating down, I’ll bet a lot of people would appreciat that.

When I went to the church where I used to be pastor, I saw that my spot was empty. I don’t think people were avoiding it in memory of me. Instead, worshipers are simply looking for the closest spot.

If the day comes when I guest preach at my old church, I’ll be sure to park in my spot.

Posted in prayer

First thing on the agenda: prayer

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Dylan Gillis on Unsplash

The men’s bible class I attended last week began with prayer rather than saving it until the end. Usually, the leader gets sidetracked or the table discussions is really good, and we don’t get to prayer until 7:59 (class ends at 8). But this time, the leader said, “I’m going to let you guys share with each other and pray for about twenty minutes. Then we’ll get into the study.”

Four or five men were seated at each of the six tables. Even though I know most of the guys who come each week, I had just met the three others at my table. One had been a member of the church for about thirty years. Another had just moved to Florida from Oregon. To my left was a thirty-something guy who just started a data science degree program at the local state college.

Typically, the majority of prayer is devoted to those we know who are ill or recovering. Tonight was different. At my table, our petitions were all ones of gratitude. Bob’s son had come back to church, his faith renewed. Kevin was adjusting well to a new home, job and church. Mike’s life was getting back on track and enjoying his studies. I was thankful for time spent with grandchildren.

After we jotted down our prayers, we all took turns praying. Sometimes people are reluctant to pray, but not this group. Not one of my new friends hesitated to offer up thanks for the stuff going on in our lives. I thought to myself, “This is a powerful time, praying with these men.”

The class leader commented that talking about our prayers usually took up more time than the prayers themselves. He was right. We only prayed for about five minutes. But that’s OK. God was listening in on our pre-prayer discussions. That was prayer time, too.

The plan worked well. The leader lost track of time and we didn’t even get through half the night’s discussion questions. It’s a good thing we started with prayer.

Posted in Life

“Can I ask you about your blindness?”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels

At the pre-bible study meal on Wednesday night, I sat across from Jason. I’ve sat with him, eaten, and talked with him before, but never asked about his blindness. He faithfully comes to the Wednesday night men’s bible study. After a while you don’t notice the dark glasses and folded up white wooden cane under his chair. He’s just part of the group.

But tonight I said, “Jason, it’s Bill.” I try to identify myself when I sit down with him. And then I asked, “Can I ask you about your blindness? Have you ever had any sight?”

He smiled and told me he had been born blind. “In fact, when I was born, they had to remove one of my eyes. I’ve never been able to see.” He added, “But I really got messed up when I lost my hearing.”

Jason continued, “When I was a teenager, I would put on my headphones and listen to heavy metal music way too loud. My mom could never get my attention. I guess I overdid it. Now I’m paying for it.”

He then told me about a time when a nurse wanted to check his vision. “She wanted me to read a line of letters on the wall. I had to explain to her that I couldn’t see anything. Boy, was she embarrassed!”

One week, Jason made a pot of chili for the Wednesday night meal. It was delicious. He explained, “My mom taught me how to cook.” She was a good teacher. He has won a few chili cook-offs.

I’ve gotten to know a few of the blind who attend this church. Emily sings with the worship team, equipped with braille songsheets on her music stand. Ricky, with just a little bit of peripheral vision, does a lot of long distance running. Billie had her golden retriever assistance dog in church with her. Yes, of course, I stopped by to say hi to both!

Engaging with the blind is a great reminder that this world is not the way it’s supposed to be. It’s also a reminder that God is doing everything needed to restore it. Jesus gave us a taste of that, giving sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, and getting the lame back up on their feet.

Can you imagine what it will be like when the first thing you see in your life is Jesus?

Posted in Life

Learning how to worship…again

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by MART PRODUCTION on pexels

“I had to learn how to worship again.”

Those were the words of a retired pastor friend of mine who began attending our church after about fifty years of ministry. I appreciate his candor, but I really didn’t understand what he meant.

Until now.

Now I am retired from full time pastoral ministry, and for the first time in thirty-six years, my wife and I have had to pick a church to attend. We did not move after my retirement. We have a lot of family in the area, plus we already live in a place where many retire to (Florida). My denomination asked that we not attend the church I retired from, to let the next pastor and congregation get used to each other.

So for the first time in forever, we got to pick where we worshiped on Sunday morning.

Here is the challenging part of this whole experience. I have found it hard to not critique the preacher, music, facility, and experience in the places where we have gone to worship. I have always wanted God to be the focus of worship. But when I walk into a church, he’s the last person on my mind.

Were the people friendly? Was the preacher engaging? Was the sermon biblical and applicable? Was the music well done? Did I know the songs so I could sing along? What would people say if they knew I worshiped at this church? What did this church believe, teach, and confess?

I had so many questions. And you’ll notice, none of them had anything to do with the one I was there to worship.

Did I encounter the one true God? Was my mind renewed? Did I offer up a sacrifice of praise? Was I assured of God’s grace? Did Christ’s love compel me to love, serve, and witness to others people? How was I encouraged? How was I challenged?

When I was the preacher, I was occupied with the logistics, the message, and connecting with those who came to worship. Now, as the worshiper, none of those things were on my plate. Now my job was to listen, confess, repent, and live a new life.

In hindsight, I now realize that I should have taken more time off to be a worshiper in the congregation. I should have taken time to remember what it was like to listen, to question, to take God’s word to heart, and set out to live a new life. I believe a sabbatical would have been an asset to my ministry.

So I am learning how to worship again. I am forgetting what is behind – a career of pastoral ministry – and pressing on into retirement as a listener, a worshiper, and a member.

Posted in church, memories

They closed the church

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My brother emailed me a few weeks ago to let me know that the church where we grew up, St. Mark’s Lutheran Church in Ridley Park, Pennsylvania had closed. He thought the building was sold or given to an Ethiopian congregation that had been renting space there. The closing of the church feels like the loss of a close friend.

I was eight years old when our family moved from northeast Philadelphia to Ridley Park in 1965. We attended that church on Sundays because my aunt and grandmother lived in the adjacent apartment building, and that was their church. That’s how I became Lutheran.

When we first began worshiping there, the congregation met in a fairly small building that had a preschool and kindergarten wing on one side. I only have one memory from that older sanctuary. It’s from an Easter Sunday morning worship service. The pastor’s son, a few years older than me, was singing with the choir. He had a solo verse in a piece called, “In Joseph’s Lovely Garden.” He had a wonderful voice and sang well, but felt faint and passed out after his solo.

The congregation built a new sanctuary that I think was dedicated in 1968. My brother remembers going there with my dad to do things during construction, but I have no memories of that. The new sanctuary had two rows of 22 pews with a red-carpeted aisle between them. I know the exact number because I dusted them all many times when I worked there as a janitor while in high school. I have two vivid memories of the dedication worship service. From the loft the organ and piano played “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring.” It was the first time I had ever heard that piece, and it too my breath away. The robed choir processed up and around the nave several times during the first hymn before ascending to the loft.

Our family always sat in the third pew from the front on the left hand side in front of the pulpit. My mom and dad never left us three kids there alone when they went up for Holy Communion. They went separately so the other could stay with us. A wise strategy. I didn’t find church all that exciting. The cross in the front consisted of many stained glass stones. We sat there and tried to count them all many, many times.

We never missed Sunday worship unless one of us was sick. I heard a lot of sermons from age eight until I graduated from high school. There is only one thing I remember from all my pastor’s sermons. He would preach about those who were on a “rolley-coaster to hell.” I’m not sure what that was, but I sure didn’t want to be on ride!

After high school, I went to college and then to work in New Jersey, only worshiping there when I was visiting my parents. Both mom and dad had their funerals there in 2005 and 2019 respectively. Over time, pastors came and went and the church went into a slow decline until her final service on May 9, 2021.

Over it’s seventy years, the church educated so many children on Sundays and during the week. It spawned four pastors that I know of, including my brother and I. It served it’s community in many ways.

If you grew up in the church, then you know there is something about the church you grew up in that makes it different than any other. When I grew up and moved away, it was hard to find a new place to worship. No other church ever really measured up.

Posted in Stories

We’re in good hands

Posted on by William Douthwaite

So I’m preaching. And the sermon is going well. My points are on point, my stories are connecting and my attempts at humor coax a hint of a smile from the most staid and serious congregants. So far, so good.

Suddenly, there’s a groan. Then a gasp. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see him go down. A few folks rush to see what’s wrong. Someone is already on the phone. Still another is out front waiting to direct the EMTs.

Now what? Bring everything to a halt? Just keep going? When in doubt, pray. Make the ultimate call for help. Done.

Now what? Sit there an do nothing? The silence is overwhelming, so we’ll sing. I call out a number of a familiar hymn. The organist introduces it and we work through the verses as the EMTs arrive to assess the situation. Before you know it, before the song is over, they’ve wheeled him out on the stretcher and pulled away in the rescue truck.

Now what? Well, where was I? As I reenter my sermon, I know that what we’ve just experienced is the point. This is the story. This is what should put a smile on our faces.

We’re in good hands, both human and divine.

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.