THE TRIAL chapter 99

In Sunday school, we had been discussing what constituted being a Christian and could one person really know if another was a Christian. Since belief is a matter of the heart, what could one person know of someone else’s heart? We had gone through  “by their fruits you can know them,” and had asked can those fruits be faked? It was a hot topic and we were already in our third or fourth week of yakking. I loved what was happening. There was meaningful conversation about what it means to believe.

OK, I need to apologize here. I never did follow the curriculum and never told anyone I was not following the book. If something took more than a week, I went with it and kept it going until it was exhausted. I was somewhat concerned about this and had no idea what I would say if confronted.

The adult’s working with me in Sunday school at that time were Betty, a nurse, Dr. Hindmarsh, our doctor, and Wes, a law student at the university of Saskatchewan. We debated putting someone on trial for his or her faith. We all agreed it would be very difficult. We batted around the pros and cons. What if the outcome was — you cannot know. We knocked that around a bit and decided that was not the worst thing that could happen. But was it worth the chance and how would it be done? Also, who should be put on trial?

We considered the logistics and possible consequences. Wes knew the law best and was asked to be the judge and keep things moving in the right direction — whatever that was going to be. Wes would be available to both sides for consultation. We picked a core group of teens for both the prosecution and defense. Holden Bowker was chosen to lead the prosecution. He made me nervous. He is extremely bright and determined to win at all costs. We gave him a team of three others. Rich Hindmarsh, the doc’s son, and no intellectual slouch either. He led the four-member defense team. We were still debating who would be on trial but decided to talk to the prosecution and defense teams and kick around names about who should be tried. Everyone wanted the pastor, but it would mean he had to be there every Sunday and with other responsibilities, that was impossible (also, potentially dangerous). A few elder’s names also popped up. Most of this was beating around the bush. Many really wanted me. I made it simple. I volunteered

We presented the plan to the class the following Sunday and gave the rest of the class an opportunity to join either side than gave the rest of the class time to the sides to begin preparing their cases. We used another few classes to let the teams work. Both sides were asked to use Scripture liberally.

I, of course, was a nervous wreck. I was being a pretty good guy at the time, but there were enough things in my past to embarrass me and nail me to the floor. I did not tell them anything was off limits. I did ask that they be gentle. My best hope was that they knew very little about my past. I hoped and prayed they did not know about my college problems.

On the Sunday the trial was to begin, we had set the room up to look like a courtroom. The rectangular space was used lengthwise. We had a raised platform with an imposing wooden desk for the judge. A witness chair was on a slightly lower level. Both had microphones in place. One corner sported the Canadian flag. A student court reporter was seated at a small desk in front of the judge. She took notes, supposedly. The bailiff dressed in his full Christian Service Brigade uniform with all his medals and badges said, “Court is now in session.” He also swore in the witnesses. The bailiff asked the court to rise and introduced Wes as the judge. He entered wearing a black robe and a white wig. He looked great. After being seated the judge slammed his desk with the gavel and asked the bailiff to call the cases for the day. The bailiff presented a very legal description of the case and the judge addressed the jury (class) giving them clear instructions as to their responsibility.

The room was packed. Best attendance of the year. On the first Sunday each side presented their case, what they intended to prove and how they were going to do it. The judge instructed the class that they would all be the jury and asked to make a decision at the end of the trial. Unlike most trails, they were encouraged to talk about it all they wanted and even give ideas and suggestions to either side.

During the week each team met with an adult and laid out their plans. The adults were asked to keep them on track, but not to tell them what to do.

I believe Holden took two weeks to present his case. He was too good. I should have been hauled off to sinner jail immediately. Yes, I was sweating. Did he even like me? He was brutal. He called witnesses that had seen me mess up.

Guests began coming to class. Parents, Elders, Governing Board members — even the pastor showed up secretly hoping my lawyers could prove I was a Christian. I wondered if I would lose my job if convicted.

Rick was equally competent as my counsel. He also used a couple of weeks and the class was getting crowded. My wife became my best witness. I expected the CBC and CTV to be waiting outside to rush the lawyers demanding to know the outcome. They were never there. What a disappointment. We could have been the lead story on the news.

The last week was rebuttals and the jury broke into small groups to deliberate. The judge had to rush them at the end so we could finish and get to church. Each group presented their decision on a ballot and the bailiff took the votes to the judge to read the judgment.

THE NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR chapter 98

I never thought much about what it might mean to live next door to the church other than “convenient.” It was all that. Took less than a minute to get to work. It was easy to come home and have lunch with my bride. I could run back to church to get something I forgot – that happened often. No problem. That part was cool.

I was told I would need to help some people get in the church once in a while. Okay! Most leaders had keys, but there were plenty of other people wanting to get in “for just a few minutes.”

The janitor handled opening and closing for all the regular hours Sunday and Tuesday to Friday 8:00-5:00. But someone always seemed to need in between services on Sundays. Saturday entrance need was off and on and the church was open Tuesday and Wednesday evening for several programs. About the only night people did not seem to want in was Mondays. If I kicked my shoes off, someone was sure to come asking for help.

I was not to give anyone a key. That meant I went and unlocked the door and usually locked them in or returned later to lock up if a group was coming. What fun! I was told I did not need to be tied to the peoples desired to get in, but if we left and I later learned someone wanted in, I felt guilty (I know, my problem). I hated the question, “Where were you?” Well, I wasn’t sitting around waiting for anyone to come.

We had been there a couple of months when we began to get phone calls every Monday morning about 7:45 a.m. The calls came from a board member and he always had a question or some piece of information he seemed to need. There were times he just wanted to know my plans for the day. He would say, “I just drive by and though I would check in with you.” Monday was to be my day off. I told him. We were still young and often up very alter On Sunday night.

We developed a habit of hanging out with the Boldt’s after church. Usually we went to their home or to connect with others. It took a while before we fully understood that Walter would really only relax at his home. We tried having them at our place once in a while, but he was always ready to go in about 30 minutes. At his place we would hang out until about 11:00 p.m. Then we came home and were up another couple of hours before giving up. We watched some very dumb movies on Sunday nights. The lateness is why the morning calls were driving us both crazy.

There he is. Driving by again.

We could not figure out why he was doing this. One night we tried an experiment. We opened the living room curtains and let the kitchen light on before going to bed. There was no call the next morning. We did the same the next week and then to confirm our theory we did not open them before going to bed and the phone call returned. Confirming in our minds that he was driving by and calling just to get us up, we never again went to bed Sunday night without making sure our living room curtains were open and a light was on. We may have been sound asleep, but we were going to look like we were up and ready for the day.

By the way, this was the same board member who kept asking for Pastor Boldt’s resignation.  Never liked him anyway. It became easy to join my boss in prayer that God would remove this guy. He and his wife tried to get close to us. It was obvious their main goal was to get us to pass on some dirt about my boss. That was never going to happen. First, there was nothing to pass on and second, I had no intention of telling him a single thing and ruining the good thing we had in Saskatoon. That little trick shut our mouths for good. No one every got us to say anything bad about our bosses again. Wait! Hold on? I did try to get one of my bosses fired, but that is coming up. I had plenty bad to say about him, but that’s a few years later in these stories.

STARTING A YOUTH GROUP chapter 97

In the fall we had a meeting with the parents of high school teens to discuss the formation of a youth group. It was my contention that youth groups connect teens to their church and supplement the family’s commitment to God. They do not replace the family. The goal was to begin, enhance and/or solidify their walk with God.

A very lively discussion ensured with people who had previously been in churches with youth groups in support and most long-term University Drive families opposed. The main objection was that it would encourage early dating and we all know what dating leads to!!!!. I laughed., not out loud, or course, I’m not crazy. How did they expect they were going to stop them from being attracted to the opposite sex and why did they want to stop them from being friends with peers in the church. If not at church, where?

The vote supported the establishment of a high school youth group, but cut out ninth graders. Maybe ninth graders were in a junior high. I’m not sure. We finally agreed the there would be neither promotion nor any encouragement for ninth graders to attend, but if the parents wanted to send them it would be OK. In the end we had one of the most unusual start ups I have ever heard of a youth group beginning with nine boys and one girl.

Some were very concerned. How could you have a youth group without girls? On the other hand I believed that where the boys are the girls would come. It is easier to get girls than it is a get boy’s. My greater fear is that it would be all girls. I wasn’t disappointed in the least. The real question was how would I keep Judy. She was older than all the boys and saw sticking with us as a ministry, of sorts. She was terrific and the girls began to trickle in. Girls tend to show up where there are boys.

The church insisted that we hold to the C&MA constitution for the youth group and that meant a congregationally elected president. Since it was not time for the annual meeting we elected a full slate of officers and Cliff Miller was the first elected president.  I wished you could have been freed from that restraint, but there it was. We would work with it.

I really did not want elected leaders. I know it was the church pattern, but I was sure I could involve more in leadership roles if we had a more free form model. I had the concept in mind, but had never worked it out well enough to explain. I would have only confused the matter, for the time being I just wanted permission to get a high school youth group going. I wanted the give and take flow of gifted leaders that served as they had time and were able. I did not want kids to be in competition with school events for leadership. I wanted Christian kids involved in school.

I was pretty sure I would find a way to work with the concept. Just didn’t know what that would be.

What I was privileged to begin with was an extremely talented group of capable leaders. I was able to train some, but mostly they already had leadership gifts. They were full of ideas and organizational skills. They could lead small groups, put plans together and more I was aware of what they could do, the more I struggled to release these gifts.

The entire early youth group was the most incredibly musical. Many were accomplished pianists and almost all of could sing. To me, we had the most amazing times of just sitting around and singing. An instrument was nice, but the group never needed it. I rarely felt like I lead that group, I just went along with them.

Music gilts led to finding ways to us those. I had ideas for them and they had one for me. That’s another story.

DISTRICT CONFERENCE chapter 96

I didn’t have to do anything regarding housing for district conference. The two ladies took care of everything. Because I was right next door to the church we were assigned to house Rev. Charles Pierce and his wife. Mrs. Pierce was in a wheelchair. I understood the convenience, but there were stairs into our place and no ramp. We didn’t mind providing space for these people, but we did not have a bed or a ramp.

A couple of days before the conference we were given a bed. We hoped it was comfortable. We moved all the boxes to our empty basement and tried to make it as nice as possible. Della quickly made some curtains for the room and we covered a couple of boxes for night stands and moved one of the lamps from the living room to the bedroom. We had an extra alarm clock as a wedding gift so we set that up as well.

I was at the church helping with registration when the Pierces arrived. They wanted to get settled at the house and needed some help. So I went next door to help Rev. Pierce lift the wheelchair up our 3 stairs to the house. He was around 50 and she was heavy. I had a great deal of admiration for what he was doing and realized the load he was carrying for the woman he loved. I had no idea how he managed. The two of us could hardly get her up the stairs.

I believe there were five guys from my graduating class with appointments in the district and I was very glad to see them, They all went on and on about how wonderful their little churches were doing and how greatly God was working. It didn’t take long to realize how well they fit in. When you talked personally to any pastor in the district there was not one work with any real problems or that was not growing, and many were growing a lot. And baptisms, lots of baptisms!

As meetings got underway and I began to read the districts annual report I found a huge disconnect. Where were all these numbers I was hearing about. We were the largest church and also had the most growth, conversions and baptisms. I just assumed that was to be expected. It was another church in all those numbers that surprised me. While it wasn’t a tiny church it wasn’t huge. Conversions and baptisms were right there with us, but attendance had barely grown. I didn’t understand why some of those numbers had not transferred to attendance. Strange.

What was messing me up was that I was personally struggling. I still didn’t really know what I was doing. I had only been there three weeks. My buddy’s had mostly been in their church for the whole summer. Maybe I just needed time. Why were their words and stats at such loggerheads with one another? Wasn’t anyone struggling, confused or unsure? Was I the only one? I began to ask people about the difficulties of ministry. I didn’t consider any of what was shared very significant. Most churches needed more money. Some needed more staff. A few had some cantankerous leaders or controlling families. But the pastors all seemed to suggest they were handling that all rather well. What was wring with me?

I tried not to doubt my friends and the pastors I was meeting. But it all sounded screwy. The more they talked the more I was sure I had made a mistake. I liked the kids in Sunday school and Christian Service Brigade, but I did not yet have a handle on anything. Ken was fundamentally running CSB and I was trying to figure out how a guy who knew nothing about camping (I have gone three times in m life and others did all the set up work) was going to lead a program like CSB. They loved floor hockey and football. I liked football. I cold play that with them. Most of the guys I worked with were only 7-11 years young than myself. We were practically peers. I was just a kid, maybe more of a big brother than a spiritual authority. Did my new ministry classmates all feel capable of managing the leadership of a church? If so, they didn’t have anyone like my Sunday school superintendent.

They all loved preaching. I now had a date when I would preach, but had not done more than sort of teach SS for a week, nor given even a brief talk at CSB. I was still getting acquainted with my “congregation.” On the other hand, I had a Sunday school class larger than most of their churches and when I would finally preach, the congregation would be larger than all their churches put together.

If that should have made me feel better, it didn’t. I was terrified. My inability to speak to large crowds was looming large. This church was about to hear a kids attempting to fill some very big and capable shoes and I knew I was only a “C” speaker.

I felt alone. None of my buddies suggested they had any such fears. Why am I here? I should be in Red Deer delivering milk.

WHY PLAN chapter 95

My first Sunday with the high school class was a blast – for me. As they came in, I began the process of getting to know them and letting them find out about me. The most common response was grade and name of the school. I tried to fig a little deeper and got a little more from some who arrived before the class was to begin. It was obvious this was a great group of kids. It appeared that we were just boring them to death.

I was a little disappointed that Tom did not return. I had called and asked him to come. I told him things were going to change. What was sad for me, was the Tom never returned to church.

I have always struggled with names. I knew I would do better with those I spoke to personally. I have always needed some details about a person as a hook on which to hang their name. I suck as remembering names. Always have.

I asked the entire class what they liked or didn’t like about SS. Surprise. At first they were unsure if they could speak honestly. I got a few expected answers and then I talked a bit about what I observed and then I supported their frustration. That opened the waters a bit. They didn’t like much of anything, but I got an earful was dislikes. I asked what they thought would make it interesting. Silence. They knew they didn’t like what was happening, but didn’t have a clue what might make it better. I was on my own. If it was going to be better, it was up to me. They would still be there. They had to be there.

The only thing the church had going for teens was Christian Service Brigade and Pioneer Girls. Both programs had a good reputation with the teens. Della had a history with Pioneer Girls and got involved from the beginning. I knew about two paragraphs worth of things about CSB and wasn’t fond of what I knew. It has a military style format and I was pretty much anti military.

Russ was the long time leader of the Battalion division CSB and asked that I come to the first meeting. I agreed that would be a good idea. It was time I saw what the program was all about. He had a reputation of being a great leader. He knew what the boys wanted and had the skills to teach them a few things. I was anxious to learn from a guy like him.

As the boys arrived they jumped into floor hockey. In fact, they came early just to play. It was obvious they were having a great time. When it was time to begin, the boys formed into squads and were called to order by the sergeant who then reported to Captain Russ. I cringed and held my breath (see “Brush with Military” chapter 27 for an explanation). There were games, badge related activities, stories, small groups (squad) studies and a short but excellent teaching time. I was impressed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

When the program was over, Russ asked the sergeant and myself to stay and the three us of went into their supply room to talk. He announced that he was stepping down immediately. His son was making some bad choices and it was time to give his full attention to his family. I didn’t disagree with that. We really didn’t discuss much of anything. He was leaving and that was that and he was turning the program over to me. Gulp! Me? The unmilitary, non-camping citified dude. He explained that Ken (the sergeant) knew the program and would walk me though what needed to be done at each meeting and it would all work out great. Right!

The meeting was over and it was settled. I now had two programs I was personally running. One I wanted and one I inherited. I didn’t need to plan my schedule; it was being planned for me. I really didn’t know what to say, except I can’t do that. I don’t know anything about CSB. That was a lousy excuse as far as Russ was concerned. Mr. Art Ratzlaff was the general director of CSB having responsibility for both Battalion and the young boys, Stockade. He came along side to encourage and help me. He gave me books. There was a great games book that I came to depend on. I used that all the way through my ministry. It was terrific. He spent more of his time with the younger boys and there were no other adults on tap. I was on my own and we would both look for assistants. I was definitely going to need Ken. While I thought the program was great, what I wanted to start was a high school youth group. That was going to be a problem. The adults did not seem to want one.

A SUNDAY SCHOOL CHANGE chapter 94

I met with the high school Sunday school teacher twice before Sunday. The first meeting was just to talk about the class problems from his perspective. He was quite concerned about this lack of attentiveness and the constant talking. He felt they were rude and disrespectful.  He described some the actions. The two boys in question would walk around, throw spit wads, talk to one another and attempt to get the attention of the girls. Sometimes they would just leave.

The longer I talked to the teacher the more I like him. He didn’t feel like he was the right person for the class, but no one else wanted to teach them. He had a great heart and was willing to do whatever was needed in the church. It appeared that this might not be the right fit.

On our second meeting we went over the lesson for Sunday and I asked him to do what he normally did. “Please do not change a thing.” I had asked the same thing of the boys.

Sunday came and only Tom showed up. I never met the other boy. He did not return to church after my contact with his home. We never spoke. Over the years, I heard a great deal about him, but that was the extent of our contact. Tom was there and he apparently carried on like his buddy was there. He never left, but he talked, threw spit wads and was generally a total pain-in-the-neck distraction. If that class was typical, I wasn’t sure why Tom ended up with so much of the blame, except that he was louder than the others. Nearly everyone whisper to one another, and out of a class of about 20, it did not appear that more than 4-5 were at least quiet. Even that group did not appear to be listening.

There were several problems at work. First, the teacher never once lifted his head from the material he was reading to the class. He was a bit of a monotone and never asked any questions. He may have tried that in the past and he likely never had a response. I have to hand it to the teacher. He did not break down in tears and plugged along doing his thing, while the class did their thing. It felt like everyone in that class must have been there because parents were forcing them. Frankly, it was the most boring, ineffective class I have ever seen.

I met with the teacher during the next week and asked more questions about the class and his passion. I finally gave him an out. “If you felt like it would not leave this class without a teacher, would you like to be relieved of the responsibility?” His enthusiastic “yes” said it all. I thanked him for his service and told him he could be assured the role would be filled by Sunday, as I would take his place. He was very relieved.

I met with the pastor that afternoon to tell him what I had done and hoped it would meet with his approval. He was fine with it, actually glad it happened, but asked that I meet with the SS Superintendent and ask, not tell him, for his permission. While I did not like the idea of asking him, I did as instructed. He was not pleased with my decision. I should have asked him first. He wanted to personally make sure this is what the teacher wanted. He felt sure I had booted him out so I could take over. I encouraged him to contact the teacher to confirm whatever it was he needed confirmed. He was not happy that I had stepped on his authority. He made it quite clear the SS was his domain. He was somewhat kind about it, but it was clear. This new kid had better keep his distance and watch what he says and does. He wanted to make sure I would follow the curriculum. I explained that I would get back on track, but I needed to win them over first. I did not know how long that was going to take.

I went back to the pastor to explain what had happened. He just laughed and assured me I had done the right thing. He was aware of problems in the class and was glad there was going to be a change of direction. No one wanted the class because no one had ever gotten control.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it, but I was determined I was going to become friends with these kids and SS was going to become interesting. My whole focus was on rescuing this for the good of kids. They were good kids and they were being bored to death. To me, that was wrong. Now God, how are we going to change that?

MY CONFUSED BEGINNING chapter 93

I wonder if anyone really knows what he or she is doing when they begin their career. I didn’t. In the church it is termed “the call.” I guess. Maybe. To me it was the job I wanted, but I’m not sure what I expected, or what I really wanted. Maybe it becomes more clear for those who enter church ministry and are “in charge” of the church. For me it was I’m here, now what?

I wasn’t the top dog yet no one was barking orders at me. I had to do some searching on my own. My first board meeting opened my eyes with a start. It may have been about thirty minutes into the meeting when one of the board members asked for the pastor’s resignation. I nearly fell over backwards on my chair. I’m sure I was visibly shaken. I had just got there and was already wondering if the pastor was on his way out. He no sooner got the words out of his mouth until another board member seconded the motion. To my greater surprise Rev. Boldt got no support from anyone when he asked if this is what the board wanted. There was silence. In my mind I kept urging someone to speak up and shut those two guys down. The matter ultimately went to vote and only the original two voted to dismiss him. The board had spoken. They were not with these two. I guess Walter knew that. I was too new to know anything. At least my heartbeat slowed down.

We began each week with staff prayer – just the two of us. When the pastor, who always got on his knees, began to pray he reminded me of King David. He was praying for his enemies to be destroyed. Not killed like David prayed, but to have their hearts and minds changed or their mouths shut. I almost laughed out loud, but it was no laughing matter. After we prayed together he gave me a brief summary on the actions of those two guys. Apparently they had been doing this for several months, but no one other then those two ever voted for the motion. I didn’t understand. Was this normal church behavior? Sounded more like politics.

I watched Walter Boldt run board meetings and lead services for five years and he was one of the most tactful and gentle leaders I have ever met. He never raised his voice, even about things I that would have caused me to screamed. He handled the motions of these two board members for nearly two years before God intervened. One was transferred with his job to Toronto and the other had a heart attack and had to step down from the board. God answers prayers. However, I would have liked it all to happen a little quicker.

Walter had a habit that made me a nervous wreck almost every Sunday. He loved preaching from the Old Testament and he would usually give me the passage to read as we were leaving his office or about to walk on the platform. I must confess that I was grateful that we used the King James Version in those days. Every proper noun had the phonetic spelling. As the service was going on I was trying to read the passage over a few times before it was my turn to move to move to the pulpit and slaughter the King James English. I did learn one thing about reading those very unusual and difficult to pronounce OT names. You do not have to be right as long as you said them with confidence. It was amazing how many people would comment that they had always wondered how to pronounce “that” name. Well, me too, actually, and I still did.

In those early weeks, I was asked to contact two high school boys who were giving the high school Sunday school teacher a lot of grief. He wanted to throw them out of Sunday school but kept hoping something would get through to them. I called both boys to set up an appointment. One would never take my call and the other wanted to tell me what was going on and came to the church to meet with me. Tom was actually a very nice and articulate guy. He was growing bitter and disenchanted with church but I let him explain to me exactly what was happening each Sunday, from his perspective. What he said had the ring of truth. I never argued with him. For all I knew, he was absolutely right. And if his description were correct, I would not want to go to Sunday school either. He left me with a challenge. “Come and see for yourself.” I told him that I would meet with the teacher and ask his permission. If he were open to my attending, I would be there on Sunday. The teacher was not only open to my coming he welcomed it. He was hoping I would have some suggestions for him. I was in the class the following Sunday.