I finally went back to church.
We live and work in the Nashville area, and absolutely love it. Eileen and I have been blessed to live and minister from the East Coast to the West Coast, and nearly back again. We’ve enjoyed every place we’ve lived and served Christ, and we’ve loved the people the Lord has given us to embrace. That’s the adult part of my life. So I have a multifaceted answer to the frequent question, “Where ya from?”
The kid part of my life is no simpler. When people ask me where I grew up, I don’t find it any easier to answer. My childhood stretched from Texas to New Jersey, you see. My family put down important roots in more than one part of the country, so my answer usually takes longer than it takes to say, “City X.” I guess you could conclude that I’m from nowhere, and I’m from everywhere, all at the same time.
I’m a two-time graduate of the University of Kentucky with a particular affinity for the Bluegrass Region, but my school-age years included Grades 4 through 10 in Georgia. Last week, I went back to Moultrie, Georgia.
In some ways, going back was a surreal experience. Though nearly half a century has passed since I lived there, the depth of the powerful memories and cherished relationships was overwhelming. As long as I live, my friends “below the gnat line” will matter to me, for they were a critical part of my personal and spiritual formation. God used them to lay at least some of the bricks that were foundational to my self-understanding. These dear people helped me become the man I am.
Yes, I finally went back to church. I went back to my childhood church, which you see in this photo.
It’s a one-of-a-kind place in my estimation, as it housed the remarkable community of faith that painstakingly taught me hymns, Bible stories, and all the words of the Apostles’ Creed. Why do those early memories still hold such monumental significance in my heart? Because they’re some of my first recollections of being drawn into relationship with the living God!
As I’m still unpacking all my feelings, and reliving my past, here’s what I’m discovering. As I was growing up, my family’s need to relocate more than once meant that we we became soul-level accustomed to uprooting our lives and adjusting to new people, places, and circumstances. For me, that meant that most everything felt subject to change: house, neighborhood, school, church, friends, regional peculiarities … change became the constant companion of my childhood.
Though change can be more than a bit unsettling, God can use it for His glory and our good. Looking back, I consider my roots a unique smorgasbord of wonderful people, places, and cultures that helped shape and mature me. I’m grateful for my roots, difficult as they may have been to navigate at times, and difficult as they may be to describe in a single sentence.
But here’s the more beautiful part. The constant uprooting that I associate with my childhood has made me even more appreciative of the unshakable rootedness that is mine in Jesus Christ. I was a child when He first captured my attention in the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. That story first came alive to me in the church in South Georgia, in the children’s choir, when and where God used Mrs. Gammage as His conduit of grace and truth.
I know now that the God who stepped into the fiery furnace with Daniel’s friends has never abandoned me. Through every trial and through every transition, He who is “the same yesterday, today, and forever” remained. Every day, every place, every circumstance.
Christ has rooted me in Himself. Through His Word, through His people, and by His Spirit, He has held me fast, every step of the way. My ultimate security is in Him alone.
For those of us who are the Lord’s redeemed, our firm foundation is more than our past experiences, but our past experiences have served as some of the tools which our faithful God has used to solidify our comprehension of our permanent identity in Christ.
Though I don’t understand them all, I’m humbly grateful for each twist and turn in the road that has marked my journey. For I have roots that are strong enough and deep enough to endure forever. “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving” (Colossians 2:6-7).
I once was lost, but now am found.
Pastor Charles
Cleaning out old emails and I reached 2008!
Found this looong email in which you played the part, a very important part.
This was originally sent to a friend describing the scary night but also, God’s protection for a lost and helpless lamb.
Mon. night
Gail, (My dear friend in Northfield)
I sent this to Kathy (sister on her way to Amsterdam as of Mon.night – she and her husband left Mon. morning for 3 months in Africa – they were missionaries in Rwanda for 15 years – she contracted hepatitis and had to come back some 15 years ago . He is the Field Chairman so for 10 years, they have traveled all over the African continent Oct – Dec., late Jan. – May couselling, praying with, planning with, encouraging the missionaries they oversee. Both their children and 6 grandchildren are there as missionaries- Senegal and Guinea. They live in CO. Our brother, Lee, lives in VT. and is coming for a week tomorrow, Thurs.)
Last night – Mon. night. Mom got a big gash on her leg – a hymn book fell on her leg. Her skin is so thin from medication, it tears easily.
Mom went into Glenbrook hospital this morning (Mon.) – Dr. Claudia said her leg looked really bad. The infection is really bad. More skin came off when she went took off the bandage. By the way, Mom is back on chemo so we are hoping this stay in the hospital doesn’t delay the treatments. The tumors have subsided – seem to be responding, after all. The pain they were causing has diminished. This is not a cure – just buying us all precious time to say good-bye and relieving her pain.
Anyway, Gracie (sister in Island Lake) went down and met them there. Mom is on IV drip with antibiotics.
Gracie left for home at 7:45 pm. She said she’d call Dad when she got home.
Dad left at 8:00. Remember that the hospital is a 5 minute drive from where they live.
Gracie called when she got home but there was no answer. She kept calling but there was no answer. Mom called her and wondered if Gracie had heard from Dad. Gracie called the Deahls (church friends). Nothing. She called Verna (Mom’s cousin where they live) and Ollie. Ollie went down and found the door partway open but everything was dark. He walked around but no clues. Then Gracie called me.
It was now about 9:30 – Chicago time, 1 1/2 hours since he left the hospital for home. We decided to call hospital security. They drove around the parking lots but – no car. We notified CVON (Covenant Village of Northbrook – where my parents live) security so they could drive around the campus looking for him – parked somewhere else and trying to find home…..They checked the garage – no car. They went into the apt. and got ID and faxed it to the police who put out an APB in the area and up to Wisconsin and Indiana and down past Chicago boundaries.
David and Gracie left for the apt.
I called mom at the hospital to see how she was feeling. The police were there interviewing her and taking her report. She didn’t know he was missing and that a search was on!! We had decided not to call tonight so that she could sleep. Gracie didn’t know the police would go there.
Mom and I prayed that God would do the driving, would keep Dad calm and safe, provide angels along the way to help.
Gracie and David got to the apt about 11:15. No sign of Dad. She said the drive down was really hard as the fog was thicker than pea soup.
My friend, Margie came over and prayed with me. I threw up twice. Matt (my 22 year old son) was at work, Lydia and Larry (daughter and husband) were home as was Valerie (fiancee).
Gracie called at 11:50 Chicago time. They were watching TV. She heard Dad’s voice at the door. She opened it and he was there with the security guard. He said that Dad had quite a story and to ask him about it. It was now almost 4 hours since he left the hospital for the 5 minute drive home.
He didn’t remember anything that happened. In his hand, he had a business card, a scrap of paper and his keys. The card was from a gas station in Park Ridge. On the back and on the scrap were directions back to CVON in two different sets of handwriting. Apparently, someone from the station either followed or led Dad all the way back and delivered him to the security guard and left as the guard indicated that someone had brought him in. I don’t know anything about the time he was missing – 4 hours! How frightened he must have been – if he was aware of it all!
Dad was very shaken and crying. He called Mom. She was SOOO relieved. David helped him get ready for bed.
Gracie then called me with all of the above story.
I called the office but the security guard is gone until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll let you know what he says.
I have a large glass of wine waiting for me. I’m going to bed.
Praise God. He is able to do far above what we can hope.
Was this guy at the filling station an angel? Maybe not, but he is to me!! And God is very big.
Marci
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Tues. evening
There is a bit left to know about what happened last night but that will take several days to learn, I think. I have pieced this much together.
Dad returned to his apt. at 11:50 pm, brought to the door by Perry, the security guard. Perry said to Gracie to ask Dad about his night, it was quite a story.
However, Dad didn’t remember anything and was emotional, tired and didn’t want to talk. In his hand were a scrap of paper, a business card from a gas station miles and miles away in Park Ridge….and his keys.
I called Perry after Gracie called me. I wanted to know what he could tell us from his perspective – how did he come to “be in possession of Dad?” He had just gone off duty at midnight so I had to wait until this afternoon.
When I called today, Perry answered the phone. He said that at around 11:15 he received a phone call from a nurse at Brandel. She had had a call from a lady asking for directions to CVON – she had been flagged down by a man who was lost on Pfingston (the street to the north of CVON) and couldn’t find his way home in the thick fog. She got the directions and hung up. The nurse figured Perry – or someone – knew about this man and was probably looking for the him and called to report the phone call. Perry knew this had to be Dad and immediately got in his car and started driving back and forth on Pfingston hoping to find Dad and get him home. After 20 minutes or so, he figured he should return in case Dad came in and needed help. 5 minutes later, two cars pulled up, one matching the description of Dad’s car that Gracie had given him several hours earlier.
Indeed, it was Dad!!! And the lady who had called Brandel!! She had either led him in or followed to be sure he got there (I’m unclear on that). She walked Dad in to Perry. It was now 11:40. Three hours and 40 minutes after he had left the hospital which is five minutes away on Pfingston. So she had been flagged down 20 – 25 minutes either north or south of Techny.
Perry said Dad was emotional, crying and thanking this lady. Somehow, in the brief conversation that followed, it came out that she attends Bible study at Winnetka Bible Church (and perhaps is a member – that is unclear). Dad seemed unclear if that was his church and asked her who was the pastor there. The lady said it is Charles Moore. Perry said that when Dad heard that name, he cleared and said that that was his pastor and what a good guy he is and WBC is his church!!!!
Perry apologized to me that he didn’t get her name or phone number but did give me a good description of her and her car. With that, I called church today and got the names of the three women who lead the women’s studies. I know all three. Telling them only that we are trying to find the woman who helped Dad last night, I described her to each one. They had ideas of who it could be and would try to find out for me.
But wait! There’s more!
Remember. There is the business card and paper. If this lady had been flagged down some 20 minutes away – there had to be another part to the story from the gas station – someone else involved.
I got the phone number and name from the business card from Gracie today. I called this afternoon after hearing Perry’s story and talked to Roger, the name on the card. Roger clearly lives in Chicago – strong accent – sounded like Mayor Daley!!! He owns the gas station and had closed up shop at 8 and gone to bowling league. However, he had left something in his office so returned for it around 10:30. The lights were out. He left his car running with those lights on, let himself in to the station and was just locking up when Dad pulled in.
Apparently, Dad saw the car lights and thought he could get help there. Being used to giving directions, Roger said he was happy to help. I asked as to Dad’s state of mind. He said he was calm. They went inside and pulled out a map. Dad said he couldn’t find his way home in the fog. He pulled out his driver’s license to show him his address. Roger was surprised as Dad was in Park Ridge (969 Northwest Hwy., if you want to see where he was) and trying to get to Pfingston and Techny, some 30 miles north. Dad started to write the directions but asked Roger to finish. That explained the two handwritings on the card and scrap.
Fortunately, Dad didn’t follow the directions all the way as Roger wrote down an exit off the 294 that doesn’t exist. Dad made his way to Pfingston but, in the fog, couldn’t see how to get in to CVON or didn’t get quite far enough so somehow he came in contact with a lady around 11:15. She got him home.
More later when I learn her identity.
Needless to say – If I go up to the heavens, you are there, if I make my way to Sheol, behold, you are there…… There was no chance of Dad being hidden from God that foggy night. He ordained for Roger and whoever this lady is to be where they were at those precise moments. If we say we want to trust God, we need these situations to exercise and grow that trust. We fear these times, but God is an ever present help in trouble.
It reminds me of the part in Lewis’ Narnia story where Susan and Lucy are talking to the Beavers about Aslan.
“Is – is he a man?” asked Lucy.
“Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly. “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great Lion.”
“Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he – quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver, “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
We will not be safe – as we think of safety – when we are trusting Jesus. But we know He is good – very good.
More later.
Marci
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It is Wed. and herein lies the end of this tale.
Yesterday, Tues., I called the women’s Bible study leaders at WBC and gave them Perry’s description of the lady who helped Dad Mon. night. I preserved his dignity – since they all worship together – I did not give details of events, only that I was looking for the lady who helped him. Nothing of her description sounded familiar, but they would ask around.
Last night, Larry and Lydia went shooting. I sometimes go, but I decided to stay home and get some more info from Perry. He reminded me that this lady either said she wasn’t a member there or didn’t say she was. So the membership issue and the fact that she was at a Bible study on Mon. night strongly pushed me in the direction that she was part of the BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) group that meets at Winnetka Bible Church on Mon. nights – I learned that from the leaders I had spoken to earlier in the day.
Perry also told me to call the nurse at Brandel – perhaps she had more info. I called her and she was on duty – a lovely lady. She told me, from her perspective, what happened. She got a call from the lady saying that she was helping a man find his way home but it was so foggy, they needed help. Judy said her name is Maggie. That was music to my ears as it was a further clue.
I then went on the web as I am wont to do when I want to know something. I looked up BSF and found the link to the group leader for the WBC branch. I wrote her briefly and gave her my email and phone number.
She wrote to me this morning – Wed. – and said that yes, she knows the lady whom I was seeking and had spoken to her and confirmed the story. I called this lady and got Maggie’s number.
We spoke this late this afternoon. What a dear.
She had been at BSF Mon. night. She said that she has been in BSF several years working with the children. She stays afterward and watches the leader tape. Walking out that night – the same way she always walks out – she noticed the pastor’s name on the door for the first time and thought what a nice name – Charles Moore. (Remember that when she brought Dad to Perry, it was hearing Pastor Charles’ name that seemed to jog Dad’s mind that WBC is his church.) She is having some personal trouble in her life and didn’t want to go straight home so went out for coffee. She was on her way home late and pulled up to either a stop light or a stop sign. Dad signaled to her. When she looked at him, she realized he needed some help. She said it he had been a young man, she would not have rolled down her window – being late and foggy and all – but she thought that if her dad or grandpa had been out and in need, she would have wanted someone to help him.
He asked how to get to Brandel. I think he asked for that as that is where he turns in off of Pfingston for his parking garage. Maggie called 411 and got the number and called. Judy answered. She told Maggie directions. Maggie turned on her flashing hazard lights and led Dad but in the fog, both Dad and Maggie missed the turn several times, pulling off the road and calling Judy three different times. It was at this time that Perry was out driving up and down Pfingston looking for Dad’s car.
Around 11:30, Maggie called Judy again, unable to find the right street on which to turn and saying they were in a church parking lot. Judy figured that they were at the church parking lot right by CVON and talked them in. I think I am describing this part correctly. At any rate, Maggie got Dad to Perry.
And now you know the rest of the story.
Tues. morning I woke up with such a sense of relief; I needed to play the piano. I opened a book of hymn arrangements from which Lydia is working. It opened to “His Eye is on the Sparrow”. That’s for sure.
If God watches the sparrow, surely He was watching Dad that night.
Surely His eyes are on all those who love Him.
“Psalm 33:18 But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love.” ”
Psalm 34:15 The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their cry.”
In memory of Rod and Corinne Wilson
With thanks to our loving God
Marci Parsons
Gracie Englund