Care of Church

A teen was a little mystified when he learned about the “Ding Dong Dash” student group activity at his church. With the after-hours stealth, catching homeowners unaware, and the anonymous nature of it all, Clifton Punter said he wasn't so sure about the ministry's concept.

Then Punter participated in Ding Dong Prayer Dash at St. Matthew's United Methodist Church, and he understood everything. Ding Dong Prayer Dash is a twist on "Ding Dong Ditch," a familiar children's prank involving ringing someone's doorbell and running away before it's answered.

Thus, on a recent Wednesday night, Punter and other members of the church's student group formed a circle on the lawn of a homebound church member. A nearby porchlight provided a warm glow as he led them in a prayer for the church member then hung a special door sign featuring a hopeful message on the member's front door.

Riinnnggg! Punter rang the doorbell and he and others in the student group quickly walked back to two waiting vans. And on they drove to another house to offer up another prayer for fellow church members who are generally homebound.

Punter said of the prayer activity, "When I first heard about it, it seemed a little weird. You're ringing someone's doorbell and then running away but then I realized it makes people smile because we leave them a gift basket or we leave them a note. It lets them know somebody's thinking about them.”

Jayna Sims was a recent recipient of the group's Ding Dong Prayer Dash. She was on the student's list because of the death of her father. She said the student group visited her dad earlier in the year and brought him some goodies. Sims says,

It means a lot to me—I've had a rough year. I took care of my dad this last year and along with COVID, my immune system is bad so I've been trapped at home for two years. Having them stop by every once in a while, that means a lot, it really means a lot. … my church family is still my church family, even though I can't go every week.

In December of 2005, Reverend Michael Eden threw out a challenge to the congregation of St. Peter and St. Mary's Church in Stowmarket, England. Repairs were needed for the church's 14th century structure, and Eden directed the congregants to the parable of the talents.

In an innovative twist, he gave each of the 90 parishioners 10 pounds (about $18) and instructed them to "go forth and multiply." Amazingly, that's what the people did. One person bought baking ingredients and made over $750 selling cakes and scones. Another invested in wool and earned $138 selling scarves. In the end, the church raised over $9,200.

Commenting on his unusual plan, Reverend Eden observed, "God gives us all sorts of things, but does not expect us to waste them and do nothing."

We Were Soldiers chronicles the true story of the first American battle in Vietnam during the 1960s. Although the battle for civil rights waged on back in the United States, black and white fought together on the battlefield.

In this scene, Colonel Moore (Mel Gibson) and Sergeant Plumley (Sam Elliott) are training a group of young lieutenants and their men for the battle ahead. After an intense hike in full army gear in the hot and humid mid-summer weather, the soldiers stop for a rest. They are tired, sweaty, and sore.

Second Lieutenant Jack Geogehegan (Chris Klein) notices the grimace on Private First Class Willie Godboldt's face caused by his badly blistered feet.

The young Lieutenant says, "Godboldt, take your boots off. Everyone, take your boots off, your socks too."

Then the Lieutenant squats down next to Godboldt, an African American private, and holds up his bloody, blistered feet for closer inspection.

"I want you to draw fresh socks from supply," the Lieutenant orders, "and keep your feet dusted with powder."

He pats the private on the knee, then says to the rest of the company, "Everyone check each other's feet like Godboldt and me."

Standing at a distance, Colonel Moore witnesses the scene. He turns to his Sergeant and says, "Now, that man's a leader."

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Plumley replies.

Lieutenant Geogehegan models servant-leadership, later giving his life in an attempt to rescue a wounded soldier.

Warning: there is profanity right before the clip begins

Content: Rated R for war violence and language

Elapsed Time: 00:18:07 to 00:19:22

The following is an object lesson you might use in a sermon:

Text: "Let us stop passing judgment on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother's way" (Romans 14:13).

Principle: Rather than becoming a hindrance, we should aid each other's spiritual journey

Objects: Set up two pathways on either side of the platform. One path is strewn with stones of various sizes and shapes making an uneven walkway. The other path is laid out with patio stones.

Action: Have someone struggle across the uneven path. Then have that same person walk on the stepping-stones. Refer to Romans 14:13 and explain how we can choose to impede the spiritual progress of other Christians, or we can do what helps a person move forward with Christ.

Purpose: To encourage believers to edify rather than criticize one another.

The best ministry moments don't arrange themselves neatly in my pre-planned activities. They usually spill out of spontaneous encounters at a critical moment in someone's life.

I've noticed that many people can't remember a teaching I gave two days earlier, but they remember with sparkling clarity a statement I made over lunch nearly a decade ago.

Nothing is more seductive in ministry than thinking that my efforts for the many justify my ignoring the individual God sends my way. Sometimes people need to be touched one at a time.

Even before finishing his degree, and still lacking pastoral experience, Charles Simeon put his name forward for the pastorate of Cambridge's Holy Trinity church. This was unheard of. Amazingly Simeon was given the parish and would labor there the rest of his life.

The church was less than pleased to receive this blustering minister who insisted that those who called themselves "Christian" be truly saved by grace and live lives more closely conformed to Christ. They distrusted his ivory-tower background—they were largely artisan's families, or more bluntly, in Simeon's words, "very poor church folks," and they were wary of his fervor.

Opponents harassed Simeon by locking the family-owned pews, forcing those who wished to hear the new minister to find standing room as best they could. When Simeon brought in benches, church council members tossed them out into the churchyard, but he was undeterred.

Simeon was also determined to provide the Cambridge undergraduates with decent training in theology and pastoral ministry. In 1790 Simeon began holding informal seminars for ministerial students on Sunday evenings. In 1812, he instituted weekly "conversation parties" in his rooms, essentially theological and pastoral Q&A sessions. By 1823, some 40 students were attending. By 1827 the number was closer to 60, straining the room's capacity and keeping two servants busy distributing tea. Along the way, the eager participants acquired the labels "Simeonite" and "Sim," which they wore as badges of honor.

Of the undergraduates Simeon trained during his 54 years at Holy Trinity, some 1,100 became effective—and many, distinguished— parish ministers, chaplains, and missionaries.

The late Max Cadenhead, when he was pastor of First Baptist Church in Naples, Florida, riveted his congregation one day with a bold confession.

"My message today is on the parable of the Good Samaritan," Max announced. "Let me start with an illustration.

"Remember last year when the Browns came forward to join the church?" he asked. Everyone nodded; the Browns were a very influential family. "Well, the same day a young man came forward and gave his life to Christ. I could tell he needed help—and we counseled him." No one nodded; no one remembered.

"We worked with the Browns, got them onto committees. They've been wonderful folks," Cadenhead said to muffled amens. "The young man…well, we lost track.

"Until yesterday, that is, as I was preparing today's message on the Good Samaritan. I picked up the paper, and there was that young man's picture. He had shot and killed an elderly woman."

Chins dropped throughout the congregation, mine included, as the pastor continued. "I never followed up on that young man, so I'm the priest who saw the man in trouble and crossed to the other side of the road. I am a hypocrite."

More of that kind of sober honesty in the church would be very healthy. For God's kingdom is just the opposite of ours. We go after the rich or the influential, thinking if we can just bag this one or that one, we'll have a real catch for the kingdom. Like the folks profiled by the apostle James, we offer our head tables to the wealthy and well-dressed and reserve the back seats for those we consider unimportant.

The beauty that comes from experiencing God's love through exposure to the body of Christ is much like the quality of becoming "Real" in the children's book The Velveteen Rabbit:

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real. It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to those who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Years ago in Guatemala, a man came to me who had dishonored our Lord's name. He was truly broken and had repented. Yet he was still without joy. It was obvious he needed to be assured that he was forgiven; otherwise Satan would have gained an advantage over him.

I did something then which until that day I had never done. I put my arm around him and said, "Brother, you've repented; your sins are forgiven. Let me pray with you." And this broken, humble Guatemalan said, "Oh, thank you, thank you. Now I'm free!"

With tears running down our faces, we hugged each other. He was so excited, because a fellow brother in Christ had reassured him.

But this man should have been reassured earlier by his local church. When someone is obviously broken and repentant, the church must stand up and say, "In the name of the Lord Jesus, rejoice! He has forgiven you, and we forgive you too." The assurance from such corporate forgiveness brings healing and joy to the entire congregation.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon said that preaching is like throwing a bucket of water at a row of bottles. Some of the water goes in some of the bottles. But by talking to people personally, you have the opportunity of topping off every bottle and making sure none of the water spills.

The church should be a community of dates instead of pumpkins. Pumpkins you can harvest in six months. Dates have to be planted and tended by people who will not live to harvest them. Dates are for future generations.

It is of no avail to talk of the church in general, the church in the abstract, unless the concrete particular local church which the people attend can become a center of light and leading, of inspiration and guidance, for its specific community.

There is certainly nothing wrong with the church looking ahead, but it is terribly important that it should be done in connection with the look inside, into the church's own nature and mission, and a look behind at her own history. If the church does this, she is less likely to take her cues from the business community, the corporation, or the marketplace.

Renewing the Church is like remodeling your house: it takes longer than you hoped, costs more than you planned, and makes a bigger mess than you ever thought possible.

From research and personal experience I've come to the conclusion that in every church 16 percent of the members will never change. The tragedy is I see young pastors every day leaving the ministry because of that 16 percent. It's as if they're butting their heads against a brick wall. What they should be doing is concentrating on the 84 percent who are ripe for change. That's where the real ministry of the local church takes place.

A small church's most effective tool for creating a good church reputation may be its willingness to help those in need.