The truly faithful always go to church on vacation. So, naturally, I was watching for churches instead of redwoods or deer while on a Sunday morning drive up the scenic coastal route through northern California. All that was available was something dubiously resembling a church. The weather-beaten sign in front proclaimed, Redwood Christian Center, Orick, CA. Rev. Darrell E. Bean.
There were only three cars in the lot. As we pulled up, my daughter Autumn said, “Mom, I don’t think this is a church. There’s no steeple or cross or fancy windows.” Mandy asserted, “It could still be a church.” Then, looking uncertain, “Is it a church, Mom?”
“I think so,” I said, reminding them that our own church was a converted warehouse, located behind a lovely bowling alley. “Let’s be quiet when we go in.”
We opened the front doors hesitantly. The entire adult Sunday school turned in their seats. They welcomed us heartily. Someone brought us a Bible and a songbook. Then the girls were ushered off to Sunday school, swelling attendance from one to three.
As the pastor taught from Hebrews on “better things,” I looked around. The pews were comfy, considering they were home-hewn from stained plywood. Up front was an old piano and an antique heating stove. A wooden serving cart stood there, graced by a vase of yellow garden roses. On either side were offering jars. The Sunday school jar held coins; the missionary jar held bills. When the teacher and children returned from Sunday school, the sanctuary held thirteen souls.
The air smelled of ocean, plywood, and perfume. A stream of warmth filtered in through the plain windows. The pastor’s face was etched with more lines around his mouth than his brow. I had seen the trailer Rev. Bean and his wife lived in, parked alongside the church, with their Saturday wash still blowing on the clothesline. This was no plum denominational assignment.
Between Sunday school and the worship service, people visited. The pastor’s wife circulated, offering copies of her famous tamale pie recipe, along with a prayer guide. It seemed that this recipe had been a big hit at last week’s potluck.
After discussing the virtues of a good tamale pie with me, she and her husband sang a lovely duet, with the pastor on guitar, of “Something Worth Living For.”
The service progressed with a passing of the offering plate, prayer for the sick, a word of encouragement from Mrs. Bean, and more singing. We sang familiar, comforting hymns, ending with a rousing rendition of “In the Great Triumphant Morning.”
Pastor Bean preached with conviction on “Living the Living Word.” His message was finely crafted. His illustrations were from farm life, but even a suburbanite like me could understand them. When he closed his message and said a final prayer over the people, I realized I hadn’t consulted my watch once.
We lingered to compliment the pastor and his wife on the work they were doing at what was, indeed, a church—a truly great church. We left with three gifts: hearts full of worship, a great tamale pie recipe, and a song for the road. I drove off smiling and humming “In the Great Triumphant Morning.”
Linda Riley is director of Called Together Ministries in Torrance, California. In this column, she reflects on the variety of people we meet in ministry.
1996 by Christianity Today/LEADERSHIP journal
Last Updated: September 17, 1996
