One of the papers I'm working on this weekend is a Sermon on Evangelism.
To do evangelism, one must be able to tell one's own story. Mine has some roots planted all around this area (Ohio), so I decided that this weekend, I"d explore a couple of those roots.
Yesterday, I took a drive north. Now originally, I thought about heading east towards where my aunts and uncles live and where my grandparents lived when I was a child, but something about the north drew me in. In doing so, I found myself at the Bucyrus Bratwurst Festival. Now, when I was young, I memories of being there was of the smells of all different sorts of brats cooking all around you. Now, it seems like there was only some booths with different brats, and the rest where assorted foods as you would find at any other festival. Granted, it has been many years since I was there, but it just didn't seem the same. Even as I got a brat from the Schmidt's booth (known through the area for its Brats), something just didn't seem "special" about it.
But, nonetheless, I went, saw some of the sights that I remember seeing in Ohio - the barns, older early to mid 19h century homes and farms, and the winding roads that just brought back some find memories.
Today, I decided to go to church at the place where I went about 35 years ago. I attended the Groveport UMC. When I arrived in the town, the memories flooded my brain... there are STILL brick roads with trolley tracks in them, some of the business are still there (like the car lot across from the church), and the early 1800-s homes are there as well. The memories of riding my bike through the town made me want to go find a 26" 3-speed bike with "saddle bag style baskets" and see how fast I could race other bikes or see who could jump the farthest off a ramp in the middle of the road.
When I arrived at the church and got out of my truck, I found myself just standing there by the building, soaking in the sights, letting the memories fill my brain. I was greeted there at the door by someone who asked if it was my first time there. How awkward do you think it was to give an answer - "Well, sort of, it's been 35 years."
I went inside, and walking up to the Sanctuary made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It's been modernize a bit (screen on the wall for projection, a small praise band to get the Service kicked off, carpeting where I remember wooden floors, a section made into a "cry room", etc.). The only thing that maybe "bothered" me was that it was missing a stained glass window that I remember looking at all of the time, but as it turns out, the church is having it refurbished. Awesome.
The usher was a nice lady, and greeted me with her name and asked me my name and if I was new to the area or visiting. Again, the awkward-answer time. But this time, as I introduced myself, her face started to change, and it turns out that she remembers my family and me from those 35 or so years ago. Then as we were talking, she introduced me to their newly-appointed Pastor, and then as he commented on his possible "calling" as a kid (my "possible calling" was at that church, standing at the pulpit, as the narrator of the Kids' Christmas Program one year), he decided to mention it as he was introducing visitors. It was obvious that he doesn't "point out" specific visitors, but it was a great witness and ministry moment for the church, not to mention that another woman had overheard us talking, and yelled out across the Sanctuary about the "35-year" part, so I think it put the Pastor "on the spot" a bit.
Being in worship there was interesting. The memories of sitting there listening to the Pastor, of being the Acolyte, of the sights and sounds, especially of the KC-135 Refueling Jets form the nearby Air National Guard Base flying nearby. Where I was sitting (near the window that was where the "temporary window" is for the refurbishing), you couldn't help but notice the jets flying by... I noticed at least 3 or 4 during the Service.
After the Service was interesting as well. I went down into the Fellowship Hall area into a space where I remember having Sunday School, and where the Youth Fellowship was once held (it's now the Prayer Room, and Youth meets in another room).
Afterwards, I drove through the neighborhood I once lived in there in Groveport, as well as by the schools I went to (Glendenning Elem and Groveport Middle School).
Sometimes, the world gets to be too fast, and we forget the simple time... riding our bikes to the DQ, playing ball in the backyards, sitting on the swing set, seeing who could swing the highest...
What's your memory? What would it take to just stop the running around of the daily routine and go back and do it?
