Church Crisis update

In our culture, what do hero's look like? What do we picture when we think of a rescuer? Maybe its just me (its not really) but our culture has developed pretty standard stereotypes of what the person who come to rescue us from our impending doom will look like. We have a vision of this strong, clean shirted, nice pants wearing, clean shaven, man with large strong yet soft hands coming from far away just in a nick of time to pull us out of troubles. On the female rescuer side of things we picture this angelic face and soft voiced women who pulls us into her to make us feel safe and drive out our fears. This porcelain skinned angel might be the one who rescues us from fears. Our culture also is one who revels in the rescuer because we all feel we deserve to be rescued. What ever we need rescued from is never our fault.

With Christmas just past, I was thinking about this the other night. What does our rescuer really look like, what did our rescuer look like, or stated in a more conventional way, what did our Saviour look like? Did he appear in lush robes dyed in royal purple befitting the King of Kings? No He did not. Did he at least show up clean shaven, strong, and wearing nice pants, a button collared shirt with a silk tie and loafers? No He did not. Did He arrive to a warm reception, a parade maybe, or a ball to honor His presents? No He did not. He arrived as weakly and humbly as could be done. His arrival was not announced with fanfare and celebration, it was whispered to the lowest common denominator, the shepard's in the fields. He was born to parents who where too poor and too late to even get a hotel room so they had to sleep with the animals and stay warm with the straw. Our Saviour could have arrived in a chariot of gold dressed in purple robes with strong hands and an angelic face, but He knew then that our rescuers wouldn't really ever look like that or act like that. Instead he came humbly and brought us Truth and forgiveness whispered into our beings to save us.

Last Sunday night I was reminded of this as I was sitting at a church meeting. On Monday morning our church was going to be sold at the county sheriffs auction. We, the congregation, are and have been in dire financial trouble for some time. The holders of our loan kept increasing our rates, adding fines and such making the matter all the worse. As the devil was taking delight in this, more and more members lost hope and moved on to other Church's, which does nothing to help with the finances as the membership shrinks. The evening before the sale we had a meeting with the Rev. Lyndon Johnson (no I didn't make that up) who owns a mortgage brokerage company and only works with churches in need of money. He was late to the process, obviously, but he was still hopeful that with Divine assistance he could get us help. He seems to know where every nickle in the area is hidden and who to call to borrow it for a while. Our rescuer has arrived, less than 12 hours before the sale, but arrived none the less.

Now, the good Reverend, rescuer of Crosspointe, walks into the meeting room and as any person would do I turned to get a good look at he who hath cometh to rescue us. First impressions are always suspect, but this guy obliterated every cultural stereotype. He was not a knight in shining armor, he was not a Fabio look alike, he was not the clean shaven Lone Ranger image coming in to save the day. His hair was disheveled, his five o'clock shadow could start a fire if rubbed against burlap, his polyester pants were too high and his plaid shirt was wrinkled. His shoes were worn and his brow was furrowed from what looked like a hard long life. His teeth were crooked and he would occasionally spit when he was talking. Hmm, being a victim of my culture for a moment my heart sank as he walked in and I made the mistake of judging this road worn book by its cover. I think I made this mistake while wiping spittle from my forehead.

Once this Reverend began to speak my opinion of him made a sharp turn into the positive and hopeful. He looked down at my bible setting on the table and said, "Is this your bible brother" I said "yes sir", he said, "could I borrow it for a moment?", I said, "yes sir". He then turned right to the page he was heading to, without hunting, and read the story of the fiery furnace. He said he was there to pull us out of the fire. Now that, brothers and sisters, is an entrance. The thing he said that I found most compelling was he asked us, " do you want saved or should I take the saddle back off this horse, I don't want to do something you don't want done" I cant even express how deep that statement is. Too my surprise, we were not sure. I don't know why I am surprised, but I guess I was.

The meeting ended with the Reverend having gotten many different angles and plans together for the next day. Things to stop the sale, things to buy the property, things to account for any and all possible occurrences the next morning. The Reverend would set out to do battle on our behalf early the next day. He had already lined up funds from "wealthy brothers, good Christians, and blessed investors" The next day, he approached the judge but was apparently unable to get an injunction to stop the sale. I don't know or understand what happened next, but the way it is stated, the people who we owed the money to, bought the property and have given us time to buy it from them. With the assistance of Rev. Johnson, this is doable.

Now, did we want saved? That is still in question. We need to bring in more people and grow back to our former size and beyond. I have a feeling the Shepard will leave his flock and go out in search of the one that wondered away. What I mean is now that the immediate crisis seems to have come to a conclusion, some of the people who stoped giving, or left entirely will likely re-appear, with some help from us. I don't know what the future will bring, or how long Crosspointe can stay solvent this time around, but I know this.

God didn't bring me there for no reason and no purpose. So, for now, we will go on.

The lesson I have learned, or re-learned as the case may be is this.

Don't judge.
Don't give up.
Praise Him in all things.
and.

When looking for a big Saviour, or a servant rescuer, don't expect an attractive face, solid chin and glowing beauty, for that is all of the world.

Your rescuer may be as humble in appearance as your Saviour was. He may be a wrinkled, disheveled, suspender wearing old farm boy, or a carpenters son.

Peace...............