Balcony Person: Thoughts Before Church Conference

The view from the balcony - Pratt First United Methodist Church

 (Photo from the church's Facebook page)

I spent a lot of my teen Sundays in the balcony at Pratt First United Methodist Church. When I was a sophomore in high school, our family transferred from the tiny Byers UMC just 3 1/2 miles from our farm home to the "big city" church in Pratt, 15 minutes away.

Even as a child, I wasn't a big fan of change. I don't specifically remember the first Sunday, as my sister Lisa and I walked into the high school Sunday School room just off the balcony. It's likely I trudged in with a fair amount of trepidation and worry, along with a nervous smile. Most of the other kids in the class went to Pratt to school. We were students at Skyline, a rural consolidation just west of Pratt. So it was a sea of unfamiliar faces. But in that room was the man who would become our Sunday School teacher, Carter Barker.

He was (is) a farmer and used equipment salesman. In some ways, with his barrel chest and no-nonsense voice, he reminded me of my Grandpa Neelly. Each week, he used the Guideposts magazine and taught us some real-life lesson about overcoming adversity, building character and bolstering faith in the real world.

After Sunday School, our family sat on the right-hand side of the balcony during the worship service. Carter and his wife, Marj, did, too. And Carter became as much a part of the church experience for me as singing "How Great Thou Art" for the hundredth time or repeating The Lord's Prayer.

This winter, I saved an email devotional that arrived one morning from the Great Plains UMC Conference. The devotional, written by Jeanie Leeper, Prairie Rivers District Director of Lay Servant Ministries, talked about recalling the "balcony people" in your life and writing them a note of thanks.

"Balcony people" are described as those who cheer you on and help you find your potential and calling in Christ. These people may see things in us that we aren't able to see ourselves.

Parents are designed to be "balcony people," and I was fortunate to have parents and grandparents who did that for me. But having someone who doesn't "have to" care about you is just a little bit different. Carter came to ballgames and 4-H fairs. He cared about me - even when he didn't have to.

The west balcony at Stafford UMC  is behind the rail in this photo.That's where Melvin & Marie used to sit.

Randy and I got married in the Pratt UMC. After establishing our own household, I continued my parents' tradition of mailing photo Christmas cards, and Carter and Marj are on our list. They kept up with our children with the yearly photo and even remembered them by name. Years ago, Carter gave them a wooden fence for playing "farm." Our granddaughters have played with that fence, so the gift keeps on giving. And even now, I look forward to deciphering Carter's handwritten note at Christmastime.

Carter was definitely one of my "balcony people" - both literally and figuratively. I had other cheerleaders - voice teachers Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Bolan, science teacher Larry Sittner, 4-H agent Jean Clarkson and a myriad of others who made a difference in my life. 

From the balcony at Stafford UMC

My connections to church balconies didn't quit when I left Pratt UMC. My late in-laws sat in the west balcony at Stafford UMC. I always found it ironic that both Randy and I had "grown up in a church balcony," so to speak. Melvin and Marie became my cheerleaders and cheerleaders for Jill and Brent, too, though I wish we'd had them around for many more years.

The view from Melvin & Marie's angle in the balcony

But then the  devotional asked, "Are you a “balcony person?”

I hope I am. I try to be.

“The heart of leader development is having a vision beyond what you actually see when you look at someone and believing in someone else even more than he believes in himself. It is to see beyond the actual to the potential, not just seeing who a person is but who she can become.”

Lay Servant Ministry handbook, United Methodist Church

 

Jill & Eric's wedding - Taken from the south balcony - August 2009. 

They had lots of "balcony people" at their ceremony.

This week, I'm our church's laity representative at the Great Plains UMC annual conference. It begins today in Topeka. United Methodist churches from all over Kansas and Nebraska will send their ministers and lay persons to represent them.

While at the conference, we'll be doing the business of the church and hearing about its ministries. We'll also be electing our delegates to the 2020 General Conference - a gathering of the global United Methodist Church set for next year in Minnesota. As I've studied the applications of those lay persons who want to represent the Great Plains, I've been circling phrases and trying to come up with a cross-section of people who will best serve our conference on an even bigger stage. For my vote, I've tried to pick people from different regions, from rural and urban churches, men and women, the young and the not-so-young.

As a lay member of annual conference, I can't vote on the clergy candidates, but I've read through a number of their applications, too. Some of them seem ready to "give up" on the UMC and divide into two or more branches. I hope that mindset does not win out.

I want delegates who'll be our "balcony people." But even more, I want them to be "balcony people" for the future of the United Methodist Church, to find a way to work together, to hear each other in disagreement and find a way for the church to have a renaissance. May the Great Plains find those people during this time of Annual Conference, May 29 through June 1.

 Who are your balcony people? And how can you be a balcony person for someone else?

Leave a Light On: A Veterans Day Story

At Stafford United Methodist Church yesterday, the bells rang out at 11 AM - the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. One hundred years ago, bells had tolled to signal the end of World War I and the signing of the Armistice between the Allied Forces and Germany.

Photo by Arlene Lickiss

I had goosebump on top of goosebump as veteran Clayton Grimmett carried the flag to the front of the sanctuary and our congregation repeated the Pledge of Allegiance.

The goosebumps didn't quit when Pastor Nathan Gift shared this story during our tribute to veterans:

The sacrifices of our veterans are manifold. They sacrifice when they sign their name, raise their right hand and don their uniform. They sacrifice by the hardships they face from weather, sometimes lack of food and sleep while on duty. They sacrifice through traumatic experiences in battle. They sacrifice when they return home physically, mentally and emotionally. They sacrifice when their friends die in front of their eyes. They sacrifice when they lay their own lives down while fighting foreign and domestic enemies of our nation. Their families sacrifice on as many levels.

         Romans 13:7—Give to everyone what you owe them…if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor. 

     John 15:12-13—My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.

                Today marks the 100^th Anniversary of the signing of the Armistice that ended WWI. But we remember all our veterans today.

Last night a stranger I’d never met, a veteran, stopped by the parsonage. He just wanted to talk. You know, we have no idea what our veterans go through, how sudden sounds and movements affect them. Their nightmares and mental illness. The pain of loss. And especially how our Vietnam veterans were abused after returning home.

This gentleman who came by last night, told me of one night in the year 2000 when he had intended to take his own life. But looking for some kind of hope, he walked up the steps of our Stafford church. He then rattled the locked doors unsuccessfully and sat down.

In complete despair, he remembered the poem Footprints in the Sand. He recited it as best he remembered. As he finished, the light above him turned on. He couldn’t believe it. He was in awe. But then he felt two arms reach around him and squeeze him in a warm embrace. At that moment he was overcome with tears and an indescribable sense of peace, and his despair faded. He went home and locked his weapon away and never took it out again.

Our world can be ugly, evil and deadly. It doesn’t seem fair, but it is what it is. It’s important to know that no matter how bad the world may seem, if you want hope, God is always there to give it to you. Whenever you see a church with a light on, remember that.

The Ties That Bind

At first glance, they seem like simple satin bows. To be sure, they were beautifully crafted - each meticulously sewn together and accented with a lacy applique and trailing ribbons of delicate pearls.

My mother-in-law Marie made them for my sister-in-law Kathy's wedding in 1992. She designed a hanger that fit perfectly over the end of the pews at the Stafford United Methodist Church.

Jill was a flower girl at that wedding. I can't remember for sure, but I think she probably helped attach those bows on every other pew down the center aisle before Kathy's wedding to Dave.

After Marie died in 1996, our house became the repository for the pew bows. As Kathy said, they had been designed especially for the Stafford UMC, so we should keep them safe. When Jill got married in August nine years ago, the pew bows again adorned the aisle.

Eric and Jill's first look moment - Jill's wedding photos by Gina Dreher, Wichita

When Randy gave Jill "away" during the service on August 8, 2009, neither of his parents were there physically. But those bows that Jill's Grandma Marie had made 17 years before were a silent testimony to their presence in spirit in a church that was the family's "home" for three generations.

Randy & Jill at her wedding, August 2009

Last Friday, a different bride's young nephews and her niece hung the bows before wedding rehearsal, while I followed behind and fluffed them, making sure they were flush against the dark wood and the ribbons and pearls were cascading just so.

If I counted correctly, Lauren was the eighth bride to use the pew bows.

The bows had also adorned the aisles for Lauren's two older sisters' weddings at Stafford UMC and for at least two other weddings besides our family's.

Jill & Eric - August 2009

The brides all had Marie's bows in common. Other central components were the two wedding banners Lauren's mom - my friend Kim - had commissioned before their oldest daughter, Kristen's, wedding. She shared them for Jill's wedding, too. And, by the way, Kristen accompanied me on the piano as I sang for Lauren's wedding. Life came full circle, since Kristen used to be one of the little singers in my Joyful Noise choir at Sunday School. She now teaches those same songs to a new generation.

The ties that bind a church family are much stronger than those delicate pearl ribbons hanging from satin bows.

Randy and I were two of the hosts at Lauren and Cory's wedding reception on Saturday. Lauren's parents - Boyd and Kim - were hosts at Jill's and Eric's wedding nine years ago along with Tami and Steve, who also were hosts for Lauren. ...

The ties that bind.

Once upon a time, these brides and grooms were skipping forward together for children's sermon at church. Now, some of them are the mommys and daddys who cringe when their offspring start to "over share" during children's time.

Time comes full circle. After helping to clean up following the reception, Kim came up, hugged us and said she couldn't imagine doing life without good friends - the ones who will get their clothes sticky with punch, trudge up and down stairs carrying gifts and pull down decorations after the bride and groom have departed into a stream of bubbles. We've all gladly been there and done it for each other.

I'm thankful for that, too. It reminded me of a favorite song by Christian recording artist Mark Schultz, who just happens to be a fellow Kansan. It's called "Cloud of Witnesses." Here are a few of the lyrics.

We watched them runnin' down the aisles,
Children's time, Sunday morning.
The preacher asked them who they loved,
They all smiled and started pointing to their mom,
Their dad,
The teacher from their kindergarten class;
And each and every one
Had just come from

A cloud of witnesses
That would see them through the years
Cheer them with a smile
And pray them through the tears
A cloud of witnesses that would see them to the end,
And shower them with love that never ends
A cloud of witnesses. ...

Whether it's sharing bows made a quarter century ago or refilling a canister with lemonade and heaps of ice at a hot August wedding reception or sharing a strawberry cake at a funeral dinner or becoming the Sunday School teacher in the very room where you used to be the student ...

and in a million more ways ....

... there's a cloud of witnesses who are there to cheer us on on this race we call life.

It sounds like a good way to be a church family.

***

It was a weekend of wedding memories. Just a few days after Jill and Eric celebrated their 9th wedding anniversary on August 8, my parents celebrated their 65th on August 12. My brother put together this collage using photos from a history book my mom compiled for each of the grandchildren.

What a wonderful legacy!

Passing the Torch ... Or the Star

It's all about passing the torch ... or, in this case, a tinseled star.

I sat near the front of the Stafford United Methodist Church sanctuary on Sunday, looking forward to the children's Christmas program. This year, I wasn't nervously wondering whether kids would remember their lines. I wasn't concerned about little girls and the etiquette required when wearing dresses. I didn't have giant lyric poster boards prepared to help cue the singers or actors. 

For a dozen years or so, it was my job to worry about such things. How do you choose who gets this part or another and keep everyone happy? What would happen if one of the actors came down with the flu? How would I shuffle the lines?

I was just there to enjoy and to click the camera shutter for the church's newsletter and Facebook page updates. 

And then I saw the star. It's probably been a quarter of a century since I carefully taped and stapled a thick rope of tinsel to yellow poster board. Back then, I added a dowel to the back so little angels could make it appear over the Holy Family in the church's Christmas pageants.

It guided Three Wise Men (People) to worship the newborn King with foil-wrapped packages.

 

In 2016, the same star still shone as little voices sang the timeless "Away in a Manger" and recited Christmas poems. And I thought about passing the torch ... and passing the star.

Kristen Knight has been director of our children's Christmas program for the past few years. But when I see her, I sometimes don't see the grown up wife and Mommy of three. I see the little girl who wore a shepherd's costume one year, was an angel the next or played some other part in one of our full-blown Christmas musicals as she and her contemporaries got older: The Missing Magi, A Star Is Born and Gettin' Ready for a Miracle, to name a few.

More often than not, that tinseled star made an appearance during the Christmas program. It was used downtown when it was our church's turn to provide the Living Nativity during Christmas Wonderland.

Brent & Jill at Christmas Wonderland, downtown Stafford

It's not the only prop that survived the test of time. A shepherd's crook also made repeat appearances in church productions. Brent was holding it in the Living Nativity in the photo above. And, if you look closely, you can see Kristen had it in her hand in the photo of our long-ago Christmas program.

On Sunday, one of Kristen's sons held the same shepherd's crook that belongs to his grandpa, while a friend held another.

For most churches, we'd rather hear these little voices than have the Mormon Tabernacle Choir unexpectedly show up to give a Christmas concert.

Jill - circa 1995 or so

You see, it's not just about a cardboard star or a shepherd's crook or cardboard box We Three King gifts that just need a new layer of foil every few years. It's about sharing the story of Jesus' birth with that next generation of believers. 

Brent - Christmas 1991 - age 3

It's about teaching those centuries-old songs so that they become as familiar to the next generation as a warm and cozy blanket on the coldest day of the year.

This December, one of my church jobs was finding families to light the Advent candle, and I've tried to pick those with young children. I remember lighting the candles with Jill & Brent when they were small and trying to teach them the lessons of the Advent wreath: hope, joy, love and peace. 

Last year, it was a privilege to watch Jill, Eric and the girls light the Advent candles at their church. 

Even in the hustle and bustle of Christmas, we see those lessons being passed along. Families pull gift tags from an Angel Tree and carefully select and wrap gifts to give to another little boy or girl who may not have a Christmas without our help. Children gather around the church's Mission Wagon and pray for the people who will receive the gifts - whether for the school, the Food Bank or UMCOR health kits.

Last year, I watched Kinley add gloves and a hat to their church's giving tree. My heart swelled that our daughter is now teaching the same lessons to her girls that she learned as she made another little girl's Christmas dreams come true in the toy aisle at Wal-Mart.

During Advent, we wait for Emmanuel, God with Us. And as the tinseled star shone last Sunday morning, He arrived yet again.

"And a little child shall lead them." Isaiah 11: 6

 Thanks be to God!

Why Is the Sky Blue (and other unanswerable questions)

A persistent encyclopedia "hawker" at a long-ago Kansas State Fair asked me an important question: "How will you answer your child's question, 'Why is the sky blue?' "

At the time, I was a reporter and editor at The Hutchinson News. I was responsible for state fair coverage, so I was wandering the fair, looking for stories. Besides being a reporter, I was also a mom to a toddler. So the question did make me think - then and throughout the years as both Jill and Brent asked their share of difficult questions.

Thankfully, I resisted the urge to pony up the big bucks for an enormous set of encyclopedias, which would have become an expensive set of paperweights and flower pressers in this day of push-button technology and information.

But I again remembered that salesman's question about the blue sky when riding with our inquisitive 3-year-old granddaughter this weekend. We were on our way to a Topeka cemetery to put flowers on the graves of Randy's maternal grandparents, Laura and Alvin Ritts.

Alvin Ritts was a Methodist pastor. He died when my mother-in-law was in grade school.

Kinley hasn't had a lot of encounters with death - and that's a good thing. But she had plenty of questions:

"Did she die on a cross?" (Jesus' crucifixion is the death she's heard about the most.)
"Where is she?"
"Is she under the ground?"
"Is she under the grass?"
"Why is her soul in heaven?"
"Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY?"

A man who was decorating graves nearby was also the target of questions:

"Is he a grandpa?" (We were looking for a grandma, you know.)

We did the best we could with hard questions, and Jill finally diverted attention to another subject. (Kinley has lots of questions about everything. She reminds me of another little girl I knew long ago. Payback is a wonderful thing.) 

Kinley just couldn't grasp the concept of "visiting" grandparents who weren't actually there to see with her two eyes. It's kind of like trying to "see" the wind.

We probably were as inept at explaining that concept while at the Discovery Center in Topeka Friday afternoon, though there were a couple of experiments that helped.

Our encounters with Kinley and hard questions came back to both Randy and me during Sunday's worship service. We celebrated Pentecost, the "birthday" of the church. In Acts 2, it says:

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Acts 2: 1-4

Our historic sanctuary is beautiful anyway, but thanks to Pastor Ben & Britt Bradley for their work in transforming it for Pentecost.

Just like Kinley's search for a grandma she couldn't see, I search for a Holy Spirit described as rushing wind and tongues of fire. Those aren't exactly stagnant images, are they? God's presence and the Holy Spirit should change me. It can happen slowly. Sometimes it's in an instant. But it's moving, not stagnant.

We Kansans know wind. It can be a pleasant breeze on a hot summer day or a howling gale that thunders through trees and brings down heavy branches during a storm.

Pentecost isn't just a "story" that happened long ago. God isn't finished "moving" us and doing new things even today. The Holy Spirit comes to open our eyes and show us how to be more connected, have mercy, offer forgiveness and transform the world with justice and love.

But it requires movement. I have to leave a beautifully appointed sanctuary and go out into a messy, noisy, complicated world. As Pastor Ben says, "We have inherited the work."

***

Sometimes, the work takes us out of our comfort zones. That was aptly illustrated by our choir song Sunday. Mac Knight is in his first year directing our little church choir. When he handed out "Baba Yetu" at a Wednesday night rehearsal several months ago, we had our doubts.

He knew it would take months to teach us the foreign words and help us figure out the rapid-fire rhythms. He had it scheduled for the choir's "swan song" before our summer hiatus. At the time, I don't think he realized the scheduled Sunday happened to coincide with Pentecost.

But how appropriate that the two converged! On a day when we read about the Holy Spirit coming and each person hearing the message in their native language (Acts 2: 5-21), our choir sang "The Lord's Prayer" in Swahili. God is still speaking today - no matter the language!

Photo by Arlene Lickiss

To hear "Baba Yetu," click on this link. (You can also "like" Stafford First United Methodist Church on Facebook to hear the anthem.)

Cloud of Witnesses

Almost 90 years ago, the parishioners at Stafford Methodist Church began building a church. It was different than other churches of its time. There was no church steeple, and, from the outside, naysayers thought it looked more like a school or auditorium than a house of worship.

But, build it, they did. Parishioners brought their teams of horses to dig out the basement. The more handy among them laid forms and started pouring in concrete for the 18 steps that would lead to a new sanctuary, a design patterned after Unity Temple in suburban Chicago by a student of Architect Frank Lloyd Wright.

 

The building was the third for Stafford Methodists. The first frame church was followed by a second structure that the congregation had outgrown.

"When they built the third church on the same site, they said they were building a church that was big enough and strong enough that they wouldn't have to rebuild again," said Earl Hayes, a lifetime church member in an interview with The Hutchinson News several years ago.

But, after 90 years, the front steps were crumbling. Rain water leaked into the cracks and into the church basement. It was again time for church members to respond to a need.

On Sunday, we celebrated the culmination of a project to restore the front entrance to the church. During several years of fundraising, 434 individual donors contributed. Some were large gifts. Some were small. Some were given in memory of faithful members. Some monies were given by our newest members. As it was when the church was built 90 years ago, it was possible with many different people working together for a common goal.

"The stairs at the front of the building are more than concrete and limestone," Pastor Ben Hanne said during the re-dedication service. "The stairs are the heart of what the church stands for. Without the stairs, there would be no means of entering into the building. It's through the entrance that all are welcomed to hear the Gospel. It's where faith and hope are experienced."

 

It's also by those stairs that we leave the sanctuary and go out into the world to share the Message we've just heard of faith, hope, justice, peace and love.

Tulips outside the Stafford First United Methodist Church 

Lifelong church member Ruth Teichman shared some of her memories of growing up in the church. As she talked, members responded with laughter as she remembered traversing the perimeter of the church on the narrow ledge. I asked Randy later: Yes, he did it, too. And, later that evening at a Sunday School party, the next generation of daredevils appeared to have been inspired by her words. Since I was one of the adults responsible for their well-being, I was thinking she should have shared less "active" memories.

But she also told about "Grandma Gerdes" who gave pansies to her Sunday School charges every Easter. A wagon full of pansies sat among tulips in her honor, just to the right of the newly-finished steps.

One of our young parishioners listened to Pastor Ben from a perch on a limestone landing. Generation after generation of church children has done the same -- and, if truth be told, has leaped off into the flower bed below.

Ruth talked about counting the squares in the stained glass ceiling during long church services. She shared about hearing the church chimes call people to worship. She remembered standing at the front of the church and reciting the books of the Bible in front of the whole congregation. Food seemed to taste better at church potluck dinners, especially if you were first through the serving line. She remembered getting bags of candy and fruit after the church Christmas pageant. (That's been a tradition for 83 years, and it still continues today.)

As she talked, I thought about so many of the familiar faces who filled the pews and did the work of the church before they passed from this life to the next. I couldn't help but look up to the west balcony and remember my in-laws, Melvin and Marie, who sat there week after week.

It reminded me of the song, "Cloud of Witnesses," by Christian recording artist, Mark Schultz. (I love his music and his voice, but I also love that he's a Kansas native and a K-State graduate.)

 

I remembered it again as former pastor Amy's son played near the front steps during the re-dedication. The song says, in part:

We watched them runnin' down the aisles,

Children's time, Sunday morning.

The preacher asked them who they loved,

They all smiled and started pointing

To their mom, their dad, teacher from the kindergarten class

Each and every one had just become

A cloud of witnesses.

A cloud of witnesses that would see them through the years

Cheer them with a smile

And pray them through the tears

A cloud of witnesses that would see them to the end

Shower them with love that never ends

A cloud of witnesses.

For our family, it's certainly provided "a cloud of witnesses" and has been a centerpiece of our lives.

• Randy has worshiped there his entire life, and it's been my church home for the past 34 years. Our children were the fourth generation of the family to worship there.
• It's where we gather with our best friends for worship and fellowship each week.
• It's where our children were baptized and were taught and nurtured by a whole congregation.
• It's where we said goodbye to Randy's parents. 
• It's where our daughter was married. (It's also where Randy's parents married.)
• It's where we share a portion of our time and talents through service, resources and committee work.

I'm thankful for so great a cloud of witnesses. Enjoy the song!

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. 

Hebrews 12: 1-3