March 6, 2015

Why do you come all the way here for church?

Read 1 Timothy 1:3-7

Jeri and I are asked this frequently, and I suppose it’s a logical question if you only drive a few minutes to get to church, although it’s never even occurred to me. We usually answer the second part with an invitation, bring your family to our home for an afternoon and you’ll understand. The answer to the first is a little harder to pin down.

I don’t remember it but I was baptized on the old altar where the piano now resides in the Great Hall. I can remember swimming and fishing on the St. Mary’s River at Camp Conley when I was 3. The Frisbies, Pierrons, Heftys, Bantiens, Rev. Nixon, Dr. and Mrs. Schaffer, and others were there. It was 1962. We went there with the Church until I was 6.

I can remember Ginny Downs making nursery school fun. I remember Bert Prisk using a plumber’s torch to melt crayons on sandpaper drawings we made in 5th grade Sunday school, the coolest thing that ever happened in Sunday school, painting with fire.

So many times Perry Thomas tried to get me to straighten up and fly right. God rest his tired soul. I drilled the holes in the granite boulder to mount his bronze statue in the Memorial Garden. It’s still there. Must have done that right.

I helped Scott and Mary Frost organize the first church winter retreat. Mary couldn’t ski so I taught her. I snowplowed backward down the hill with her skis snowplowing between mine while I held her to keep her balance and she had the hang of it in no time. She loved it so much she and Scott moved to Florida, haven’t seen her since.

So many times I remember half the church coming to our house to play cards with my parents all night.

I remember sitting in the balcony of the old sanctuary watching the choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus of Handel’s Messiah. To this day it’s one of my fondest memories. If my life passes in front of my eyes when I die, I’m sure that sight will be in there. Now when I see Jan up there in the choir it’s 1974 again. We sit up front so fewer people suffer when I sing.

Before there was Charlie there was a man we called Doc. He worked tirelessly to make church a place where young people wanted to be. He was an important figure in my teen years. Many years later I found myself 1,200 miles off shore in the Atlantic on a dark moonless night full of stars and no other light. I was

delivering a 42’ sailboat to the West Indies. On deck alone on watch with calm seas sailing at 5 knots, I couldn’t resist the temptation to take a dip. At 01:00 or so I tied a line to a deck cleat and jumped in. Holding the rope I towed behind the boat as I’d done hundreds of times near shore in daylight with friends running the boat. This time it was just me and the stars above. Then for some reason, it occurred to me how disappointed Doc would be if I died out here doing this. If I lost the rope, the boat would be miles away in the open ocean before anyone knew I was gone. Paying attention to my gut and Doc, I climbed out to dry off. As I did, the drag on my fishing pole’s reel gave out a grind for only a second. When I reeled in the line my bait was bitten in half. It was a wooden plug the size of a large broom handle. Something hungry with teeth as big as my thumb was in the water right behind me when I was towing myself behind the boat. Why do I drive so far to come to this church? Why was Doc there in the stars that night?

Even so, for several years I was CEO of this church. Yup I was. Christmas Easter Only. In those years I felt inadequate. I spent many lunch breaks eating my lunch in the parking lot. Then after a service I attended that included Charlie and Heidi singing a duet I remarked to Charlie how fortunate this church is to have them. He responded with the most astute observation, he said “This church is fortunate to have you too, Ron, we’d like you to come in more often.” So I did.

This led to me finding some of my most treasured friends, if you’re reading this you’re one of them. Even in the years I was not often in this church, there’s not been a time when this church wasn’t in me. This little church is firmly ensconced in my soul. Now I look forward to my Bob sermons, they’re like the lunch Jeri packs for me, I don’t remember the specific contents of them, I just know that each one keeps me going until the next one is consumed.

I can remember every Pastor since Rev. Nixon. I’ve been raised in, confirmed in, and counseled by this church for as long as I can remember. Over the years I’ve found myself in some compromising positions, and its only the teachings and connection to this church that have led me from the tempter. Over the years two people have died in my arms, and it’s only because of the things I’ve learned in this church that I knew what to do at those times. From the first time I brought her, the lovely and gracious JeriLynn has commented how friendly and accommodating everyone is.

Even when driving 1 ½ hours through a foot of snow I don’t wonder why we drive so far to come to this church, for me it’s a question of “Where else would I go?”

And besides I know it makes my mom happy.

Ron Draper