Supportive Encouragers
One of the gifts of growing older is the gift of reflecting back on one's journey. You can't do that until you have lived and experienced some life. Until recently, I always felt like the youngest person in the room. I was the listener as others pondered and shared their life stories. Now as I approach retirement I find myself pondering my life's experiences. Last week I shared some of my life story in my blog post "Resurrection, Be the Evidence." This week I've been pondering how did I manage to navigate all those transitions. So this post is a Part Two of sorts. I cannot explain how or why God placed those many blessings in my path following hard challenges, any more than I can explain Jesus' resurrection. That's God's work, for which I thank God! Gratitude is a foundational hallmark of the Christian life. I am witness to these blessings and grateful. But as a lifelong member of one community of faith after another, I have always been surrounded by supportive encouragers.
My favorite biblical character is Barnabas in the Book of Acts. Barnabas accompanied Paul on his first missionary journey. He was a mentor and advocate of my Biblical name sake, a young disciple named John called Mark. That's right, my name is John Mark, my middle initial M. is for Mark. John called Mark shows up in two places in scripture, first in Mark 14:51, where he is the teenager with the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane. When Jesus was arrested, Mark, the gospel writer, gives unusual "t.m.i." (too much information), how "wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked." Presumably Mark, the gospel writer tells this self deprecating story only he would know. And possibly this is the same John called Mark mentioned in Acts 15:36-41, who some years later accompanied Paul and Barnabas on their first missionary journey. Only Paul did not want to take him on their second journey because on the first trip he abandoned them and returned home homesick. Barnabas, however, stood up for John Mark. "The disagreement became so sharp that they parted company; Barnabas took Mark with him and sailed away to Cyprus. But Paul chose and set out with Silas." (vs. 39-40). Barnabas, whose name means "son of encouragement," is my biblical hero!
Let me tell you about the Barnabas figures in my life. They have shown up at every twist and turn of my journey. In my toddler preschool years Irene, our next door neighbor, took care of me when my mother filled in for a school nurse or needed to run an errand without me in tow. Irene was like my church surrogate grandmother. She had the best toys for her grandchildren, which I got to enjoy. Loretta was a fill in when Irene was not available. Jesse and Junior were cheerful fun loving brothers, who dug the graves in the cemetery by our house. They loved my company as I watched them work. Molly, a farm wife often invited my family for butchering day. She cooked the best meals of home cured ham, and supplied us with potatoes. Eleanor, her daughter, an elementary teacher, always had a smile and a welcoming hug for me. I followed John around the church like a puppy. He was the church custodian, who would give me two or three pink sugar candies from the local general store. And no, he was not a child predator, but a saint who loved not only me but all the children. Only later did I learn that he gave those candies to the other church kids as well. The sight and smell of those candies instantly takes me back to memories of those childhood years of love and encouragement. There was no nursery school, no preschool, no kindergarten in my childhood community. Rather these supportive adult encouragers taught me what love is. They modeled cheerfulness and joy, simplicity and generosity. Their manner around the graves and church chancel introduced me to sacred holy things. They were my childhood educators and I grieved them greatly when we moved away.
But Phil and Marg filled that void in my life during my school years. They became my new church surrogate grandparents. I spent weeks each summer living with them and working on their farm. When my parents started taking spring vacations without us, Adaleine stayed with my sister and me. And when my parents moved my senior year, Clair and Mid gave me a temporary home. Mid was a gifted baker of rolls and bread and Boston cream pies. At home we got only a half slice of bacon on rare occasions. Mid would take a side of bacon from the pantry, hold it with her arm around it and with her other hand slice with a knife thick bacon strips into the skillet. Every breakfast was a feast! Although she was never ordained to the office, she was the most gifted deacon I've known, as she delivered her baked goods to the lonely and shut-ins. No frills, just neighborly hello and off.
When my parents moved to Paradise, PA I was greeted at church by John and Joy, the church choir director and organist. Every time I was home from college and walked into church their faces lit up, as did the two tenors, Jim and Gene. John would hand me the music for the day and trusted me to sight read it unrehearsed. During my seminary years, Jim would bashfully approach me after worship, shake my hand and leave a $100 check in my hand, never saying a word. He was a retired janitor, a man of little means, who invested in my future ministry. Gary served this congregation as pastor for over 40 years, and was always there for us on our visits with a good sermon and warm embrace, until he finally retired. For four decades, they were one of the constants in my family's life. What a vacuum they left behind.
When we stepped off the plane in Sao Paulo, we knew no Portuguese. Thank God, we were met at the gate by Bob, the treasurer of the Brazil Mission. I'm not sure what we would have done without him. After three months of language school, we engaged in our work. Eileen taught the six children of two mission families, one an evangelist, the other a director of a community development project, which worked with poor families. Among my many and varied responsibilities, I did the bookkeeping for this project. I had had one semester of bookkeeping in high school, but anyone who knows me well, knows that accuracy with details is not my gift. Yet it was the need they had, I was available and Bob mentored me from a distance. When the ledger balance sheet and the checkbook balance didn't match, he introduced me to the Brazilian phrase for undocumented miscellaneous expenses, S.D.Q.S., So' Deus que sabe, translated, only God knows. He and his wife Elizabeth were supportive encouragers.
At seminary, Ken, the professor for mission and his wife took Eileen and me under their wings. They understood the culture shock of reentry into the country which had not changes while we had changed after living three years working with the poor. They included us in their outreach and support for the international students on campus. Lindsey, our next door neighbor, was a P.S.C.E. graduate, a few years older than us, and parent of two girls, took us under her wing, giving us all kinds of advice, moral support, and hand me downs.
There have been supportive encouragers in every church I've served: Jim and Pat, Harold and Miriam, Jim, Agnes, Bill and Curtis in my first call; Joanne and Natalie in my second; Laverne, Betty, Esther and Mal, and Dennis in my third; Frank and Nancy, Dave, Jerry and Janet in the fourth, Gail, Susan, Rose Ann, Ron, Tom, Marie, and Lorna in the fifth; Nelson, Sally, Bill, Zoe, Chris, Jeff, Andy, Tedd, Timothy, Al, Dan, Nancy, and a cadre of other colleagues to name just a few of them here in Michigan.
What did they do? They gave me a listening ear. They understood the challenges of ministry. They affirmed my gifts and helped me navigate my limitations. They sustained me with hope when mine dimmed. They checked in regularly with me when I needed it. One bought me a beer, one brought donuts to church every Wednesday, another gave money for me to buy a new suit and tie for an interview. One always said to me in leaving a meeting, "Take the rest of the day off," knowing full well it would take me the rest of the day to drive home. Another says, "Make space for grace." Another ends every email message with, "Be good to yourself once everyday." Two of them met with me weekly for Bible Study and prayer through a difficult season.
No professional counselor practices unless under supervision him or herself processing their own stuff. No pastor should minister alone without a cadre of supportive encouragers. Every Christian pilgrim needs a Barnabas, a community of them! I am grateful for the blessings God has given me when life looked dim. I am also grateful for the cadre of supportive Barnabas encouragers God has put in my life throughout my journey. During Holy Communion they are the saints, the cloud of witnesses, some still alive, some now with the Lord, who I remember, name and with who I commune in those quiet moments.
As I think about my experience with the Pine Island Church, I've come to realize that what makes you so special, is that you are a congregation of supportive Barnabas encouragers. You collectively have the rare gift of encouragement giving tangible support to one another and to me. This is your spiritual gift, your spiritual DNA, your core identity. I give thanks to God for your tangible witness to the love and grace of Jesus Christ.
A counselor once said to me when I was working on my stuff, "You might as well work on it now, because you know, no matter where you go, you're going to be there!" Likewise, wherever you go, your endearing gift of supportive encouragement will be there. Whatever the future brings, you collectively have these rarest of gifts, the tangible gifts of encouragement, support, and open hearts to the stranger. These go with you, whatever the future holds, because that is who you are!
My favorite biblical character is Barnabas in the Book of Acts. Barnabas accompanied Paul on his first missionary journey. He was a mentor and advocate of my Biblical name sake, a young disciple named John called Mark. That's right, my name is John Mark, my middle initial M. is for Mark. John called Mark shows up in two places in scripture, first in Mark 14:51, where he is the teenager with the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane. When Jesus was arrested, Mark, the gospel writer, gives unusual "t.m.i." (too much information), how "wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked." Presumably Mark, the gospel writer tells this self deprecating story only he would know. And possibly this is the same John called Mark mentioned in Acts 15:36-41, who some years later accompanied Paul and Barnabas on their first missionary journey. Only Paul did not want to take him on their second journey because on the first trip he abandoned them and returned home homesick. Barnabas, however, stood up for John Mark. "The disagreement became so sharp that they parted company; Barnabas took Mark with him and sailed away to Cyprus. But Paul chose and set out with Silas." (vs. 39-40). Barnabas, whose name means "son of encouragement," is my biblical hero!
Let me tell you about the Barnabas figures in my life. They have shown up at every twist and turn of my journey. In my toddler preschool years Irene, our next door neighbor, took care of me when my mother filled in for a school nurse or needed to run an errand without me in tow. Irene was like my church surrogate grandmother. She had the best toys for her grandchildren, which I got to enjoy. Loretta was a fill in when Irene was not available. Jesse and Junior were cheerful fun loving brothers, who dug the graves in the cemetery by our house. They loved my company as I watched them work. Molly, a farm wife often invited my family for butchering day. She cooked the best meals of home cured ham, and supplied us with potatoes. Eleanor, her daughter, an elementary teacher, always had a smile and a welcoming hug for me. I followed John around the church like a puppy. He was the church custodian, who would give me two or three pink sugar candies from the local general store. And no, he was not a child predator, but a saint who loved not only me but all the children. Only later did I learn that he gave those candies to the other church kids as well. The sight and smell of those candies instantly takes me back to memories of those childhood years of love and encouragement. There was no nursery school, no preschool, no kindergarten in my childhood community. Rather these supportive adult encouragers taught me what love is. They modeled cheerfulness and joy, simplicity and generosity. Their manner around the graves and church chancel introduced me to sacred holy things. They were my childhood educators and I grieved them greatly when we moved away.
But Phil and Marg filled that void in my life during my school years. They became my new church surrogate grandparents. I spent weeks each summer living with them and working on their farm. When my parents started taking spring vacations without us, Adaleine stayed with my sister and me. And when my parents moved my senior year, Clair and Mid gave me a temporary home. Mid was a gifted baker of rolls and bread and Boston cream pies. At home we got only a half slice of bacon on rare occasions. Mid would take a side of bacon from the pantry, hold it with her arm around it and with her other hand slice with a knife thick bacon strips into the skillet. Every breakfast was a feast! Although she was never ordained to the office, she was the most gifted deacon I've known, as she delivered her baked goods to the lonely and shut-ins. No frills, just neighborly hello and off.
When my parents moved to Paradise, PA I was greeted at church by John and Joy, the church choir director and organist. Every time I was home from college and walked into church their faces lit up, as did the two tenors, Jim and Gene. John would hand me the music for the day and trusted me to sight read it unrehearsed. During my seminary years, Jim would bashfully approach me after worship, shake my hand and leave a $100 check in my hand, never saying a word. He was a retired janitor, a man of little means, who invested in my future ministry. Gary served this congregation as pastor for over 40 years, and was always there for us on our visits with a good sermon and warm embrace, until he finally retired. For four decades, they were one of the constants in my family's life. What a vacuum they left behind.
When we stepped off the plane in Sao Paulo, we knew no Portuguese. Thank God, we were met at the gate by Bob, the treasurer of the Brazil Mission. I'm not sure what we would have done without him. After three months of language school, we engaged in our work. Eileen taught the six children of two mission families, one an evangelist, the other a director of a community development project, which worked with poor families. Among my many and varied responsibilities, I did the bookkeeping for this project. I had had one semester of bookkeeping in high school, but anyone who knows me well, knows that accuracy with details is not my gift. Yet it was the need they had, I was available and Bob mentored me from a distance. When the ledger balance sheet and the checkbook balance didn't match, he introduced me to the Brazilian phrase for undocumented miscellaneous expenses, S.D.Q.S., So' Deus que sabe, translated, only God knows. He and his wife Elizabeth were supportive encouragers.
At seminary, Ken, the professor for mission and his wife took Eileen and me under their wings. They understood the culture shock of reentry into the country which had not changes while we had changed after living three years working with the poor. They included us in their outreach and support for the international students on campus. Lindsey, our next door neighbor, was a P.S.C.E. graduate, a few years older than us, and parent of two girls, took us under her wing, giving us all kinds of advice, moral support, and hand me downs.
There have been supportive encouragers in every church I've served: Jim and Pat, Harold and Miriam, Jim, Agnes, Bill and Curtis in my first call; Joanne and Natalie in my second; Laverne, Betty, Esther and Mal, and Dennis in my third; Frank and Nancy, Dave, Jerry and Janet in the fourth, Gail, Susan, Rose Ann, Ron, Tom, Marie, and Lorna in the fifth; Nelson, Sally, Bill, Zoe, Chris, Jeff, Andy, Tedd, Timothy, Al, Dan, Nancy, and a cadre of other colleagues to name just a few of them here in Michigan.
What did they do? They gave me a listening ear. They understood the challenges of ministry. They affirmed my gifts and helped me navigate my limitations. They sustained me with hope when mine dimmed. They checked in regularly with me when I needed it. One bought me a beer, one brought donuts to church every Wednesday, another gave money for me to buy a new suit and tie for an interview. One always said to me in leaving a meeting, "Take the rest of the day off," knowing full well it would take me the rest of the day to drive home. Another says, "Make space for grace." Another ends every email message with, "Be good to yourself once everyday." Two of them met with me weekly for Bible Study and prayer through a difficult season.
No professional counselor practices unless under supervision him or herself processing their own stuff. No pastor should minister alone without a cadre of supportive encouragers. Every Christian pilgrim needs a Barnabas, a community of them! I am grateful for the blessings God has given me when life looked dim. I am also grateful for the cadre of supportive Barnabas encouragers God has put in my life throughout my journey. During Holy Communion they are the saints, the cloud of witnesses, some still alive, some now with the Lord, who I remember, name and with who I commune in those quiet moments.
As I think about my experience with the Pine Island Church, I've come to realize that what makes you so special, is that you are a congregation of supportive Barnabas encouragers. You collectively have the rare gift of encouragement giving tangible support to one another and to me. This is your spiritual gift, your spiritual DNA, your core identity. I give thanks to God for your tangible witness to the love and grace of Jesus Christ.
A counselor once said to me when I was working on my stuff, "You might as well work on it now, because you know, no matter where you go, you're going to be there!" Likewise, wherever you go, your endearing gift of supportive encouragement will be there. Whatever the future brings, you collectively have these rarest of gifts, the tangible gifts of encouragement, support, and open hearts to the stranger. These go with you, whatever the future holds, because that is who you are!
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