Hello,
Ah….the good ole’
days.
A couple of days
ago it was 80 degrees, sunny, and more summerlike than autumnal. So, I decided to do what one does in the
summer on such days. Wash my car. It was a job that needed to be done as I had
not given it a bath since the spring when I left my Greensburg job where the
automatic car wash is located. The dirt
and grime had built up. The shiny metal
of the hubcaps were more black than metallic.
Even my headlights were dimmed from the build up of smushed bugs on
them. It was time for a wash.
I retrieved a
bucket, squirted some Dawn Dish Soap in it, and filled it full of water from the
outside hose. I sprayed my Mini
Cooper down first to loosen the dirt,
and then I got my seldom used wash mitten, dipped it in the bucket and took
after my car with “Karate Kid” vengeance.
(Wax on/ Wax off motion.) First,
the roof, then the hood, then the side panels.
It is amazing the shine that had been hidden for months. Finally, I took to the windows……and that is
when I remembered “the good ole’ days”.
I remembered that
as a child, before the days of self-serve, when one went to get gas, one rolled
over the pneumatic hose that rang a bell, alerting an attendant of your
arrival. The attendant, being so
summoned, emerged from the station, came up to the driver’s window, which you cranked
down manually, and even without asking, you would say to him, “Fill ‘er up with
regular.”
Dutifully, he
would search for the gas cover….on our car, an Oldsmobile, it was under the
rear license plate…extract the handle from the pump, stick it in the gas tank
opening, lock it to keep flowing, and then he would leave. Wrong!
No, he had just begun. After
asking you to pop your hood, he would proceed to check your oil level and any
other level that could be checked. If
asked he would check your antifreeze level, and check the pressure on your
tires. And then, when all of that was
done, he would pull a bottle of window cleaner from the stand next to the pumps
and wash all of your windows. Spraying
them and wiping them off with a squeegee.
When all was done, he would hand you a bill, produced from a carbon paper
device. You’d pay the bill. He would say, “Thank you.” And with your car all checked over, gas tank
filled, and windows clean….off you would drive.
Ah….the good ole’ days.
Truthfully, the
good ole’ days were not purely good, were they?
Every good ole’ day was also full of plenty that was not so good, and
good to get away from.
For Christians of
my ilk, Lutherans, the remembrance of the good ole’ days is a sometimes spoken
recall. The days when churches were
filled to the brim and people would come a half hour early to worship to get a
good seat. When choirs filled choir
lofts, and Sunday Schools were ant hills
of kids. When people entered the
sanctuary in solemn reverence, and the church budget was always met with ease.
Of course, the glow
of those days is not all rosy. The pews
may have been full, but many often left worship spiritually empty. The Sunday Schools full of children made it
easy to forget those children who did not come. People would coldly sit next to each other
in church as if they were there alone.
Offerings were given as required dues.
And maybe most significantly,
issues of complex reality were often treated with deep lines drawn in the sand.
There are some
things about the good ole’ days that I, as a pastor, would welcome back, but
there are also things that I am glad to have left back in those days. We don’t live in the good ole’ days. We live in the today, and it aint all
bad. I am glad that going to church
takes more intentionality, intention has a way of opening the spiritual gas
tank to be filled up. I am glad people
take note of those around them and experience the care of a Christ-filled
handshake and ask with honest depth, “How ya’ doing?” I am glad that communion is graciously offered
rather than sparingly given. I am glad
that offerings are gifts of thanks and non-givers are seen as people to care
about rather than shun as someone who is
not carrying their load. I am glad that
the church has come to see that the world is, figuratively, not as round as we
thought it was. I am glad that that
lines in the sand have been eroded by graceful waters, and I am glad that when
someone comes to me in pain, I don’t have to judge them first, but can embrace
them with care. I am glad that those who
struggle with belief are taken seriously rather than written off as “the lost”.
If you are not
coming to church because you think that the church lives in the good ole days….well,
in the case of some churches you may be right.
But the church that I am part of, and many of which I know, seeks to be
the place where God encounters us in these days. Every church falls short of its hope to live
out its identity as the body of Christ, but with the Spirit’s ever blowing wind
of grace, the evidence of Christ’s love for you….for today…..is there. I invite you to come and see.
Ah….thank God for
God’s grace in these days!
Have a great week.
God’s grace and peace, (ggap)
Pastor Jerry Nuernberger
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