trail or treat

This past Sunday, Virginia Hills participated in the “Trail or Treat” at Franconia District Park. Our church, along with Rising Hope Mission Church, Hope United Church of Christ, Franconia United Methodist Church, and Kingstowne Communion Church sponsored this event.

We began with an interdenominational worship service at the Franconia District amphitheater that included 210 participants.

We then moved to the trail or treat along the Chessie’s Trail at Franconia Park. Families were invited to participate by bringing a food donation to restock the pantry at Rising Hope. Over 800 pounds of food and $385 were collected. Just under 1200 people walked the trail.

Among the 37 stations handing out candy was the “Jurassic Park” table sponsored by Virginia Hills Church and Learning Center. Pictured above is Dr. John Hammond, CEO and founder of Jurassic Park, along with his T-Rex, who is confined behind an electric fence, which is perfectly safe. (unless something happens to the computer system) Special thanks to all from Virginia Hills who made this a special day.

The whole event was a reminder to me of the importance of working together. There was a time when each individual church would do their own thing. But we live in a different world now, and we can accomplish so much more and make more of an impact working together than we can on our own. This is part of our vision for the new Virginia Hills Church: to be a place where multiple churches and organizations can join together to make a difference in our community.

bob

The fellow pictured above is my good friend, Bob. Bob makes it down from the attic every October to help us celebrate Halloween. I’m not sure when he started his annual appearance, but I think it was about 15 years ago. Bob is looking a little worse for wear this year. His right arm is missing so he won’t be able to hand out candy to trick or treaters.

Most years Bob is somewhere in our front yard. Sometimes he hangs from the flagpole next to the front door. Sometimes he’s waving from the front window. This year he is sitting in a camp chair in front of his tent.

I’ve noticed a lot of Bobs in our neighborhood this year. Some of them are ten feet tall. Some are little bitty and there are a dozen of them in the trees. There’s one that appears to be pole dancing. (I don’t think my Bob is old enough to go to that house.)

Bob is just one of the decorations we have had through the years. Before they all burned out, we had a large collection of orange lights. At one point we had a little remote-controlled broom. It came with a little dish to put the candy in, and we could guide it down the sidewalk to deliver candy to the neighbors. I worked really well until one kid stepped on it and broke it. One of my all-time favorites was the little miniature Bob who was locked in a cage. It came with a motion sensor so that when someone came near, Bob would start screaming “Let me out of here!”

Some people don’t care for the whole Halloween thing. Some believe the day undermines the Christian faith. I’ll leave that for the theologians to debate. For me Halloween is day to dress up, go out with friends, and collect your favorite candies. Bob will be on duty Halloween night until about 8:30, when he has to go to bed. Hope you can come by!

pat fischer

Last week, long time Washington Football fans were saddened to learn of the death of Pat Fischer. Pat was the Washington corner back from 1968-1978. He is remembered for his toughness and tenacity, despite being only 5’9” and 165 pounds. My dad used to call him “pound for pound,” because pound for pound he was the toughest player in the league.

Fischer was a three-time pro bowler who had 56 interceptions in his career. Ironically, the first of these interceptions was against Washington quarterback Sonny Jurgenson when Pat was playing for the Cardinals.

George Allen, the former Washington coach, said that “Pat was not the biggest or fastest player on the team, but he never missed a practice, never missed a game, played smart, and played hard.” As a kid, watching the games on TV, I was amazed by his skill at tackling players much bigger than himself.

Some of his most memorable matchups were against Harold Carmichael of the Philadelphia Eagles. Carmichael was a foot taller than Fischer and outweighed him by 50 pounds. But Fischer more than held his own against the receiver. He believed in himself and was confident in his abilities. He didn’t always win, but he always made an impression.

The Bible has a thing or two to say about small guys going up against Giants. When David faced Goliath, he understood that victory doesn’t always go to the biggest or the strongest or the fastest. Sometimes it goes to the guy who has more heart, grit, and determination.

We all face giants from time to time. Sometimes they are named Goliath, and sometimes they are named Carmichael. We may not always win against these giants, but with hard work and fearless determination, we will always make our mark. Thanks for the memories, Pat! You were an inspiration.

tax guy

Several years ago, my financial advisor recommended someone to do my taxes. For years I had done my own taxes using the Turbo Tax software. As our lives got more complicated, and our finances became more complex, I began to wonder if I was really doing them right. I followed all of the directions on Turbo Tax, but I really didn’t understand all of the details. What if I had been missing something? So, I asked my financial advisor if he could recommend someone.

He put me in touch with my “tax guy.” That’s not his name or title, but after I shared his name with my brother, he was from that moment on known as “the tax guy.” “Have you taken your stuff to the tax guy? Has the tax guy finished your taxes?”

Last March, my brother and I met at the guy’s office, dropped off our W-2s, etc. and then went to lunch, secure that our taxes would be done right. By April 13th I had not heard anything, so I called his office. There was no answer, so I left a message.

My brother, who is a lot pushier than me, decided to drive down to his office to see what was up. He found a sign on the door saying, “We regret to inform you of the sudden death of “The Tax Guy.” Apparently the guy suffered a major heart attack a few days before. I’m pretty sure it was the taxes that killed him.

So, what does one do when it’s April 15th and your tax guy is deceased? I would have gone ahead and done them myself, except all my tax related paperwork was in a file locked away in the guy’s office.

Eventually I learned that his staff filed an extension for all the clients whose taxes had not yet been completed. Which meant that we had until October 15th to get them done. My brother and I both elected to let the Tax Guy’s staff complete what had been started. I promptly forgot all about it until the other day, when I realized that the 15th is next week! My annual mid-April panic over taxes became my October panic. Panicking twice in one year is too much.

Yesterday I picked up my finally finished taxes. The whole experience was a reminder of our tendency to put things off. We want to try that new restaurant, but we put it off until another day. We put off buying that new shirt because it’s so expensive. We put off spending time with family because we are too busy. We put off going to church until the new building is completed.

Life is short, friends., Go to that restaurant, buy that shirt, spend time with family and worship with us at Mount Vernon United Methodist this Sunday at 11:00.

worry stone

Many years ago, I was called to the home of a church member who had passed away. I sat with the family, and we planned the funeral service. In the course of the visit, I noticed the husband of the deceased holding a stone in his hand. It looked a little like the one in the picture above.

When I asked about it, the husband explained that it was a “worry stone.” A worry stone is a smooth, polished stone used to relieve stress or anxiety. They are typically oval shaped and have a thumb sized indentation. To use a worry stone, you typically hold it between your thumb and index finger and move your thumb across the indentation. The idea is that this action absorbs fidgeting and sends calming messages to the brain.

The husband handed it to me, and for the rest of the visit I rubbed my thumb across the stone. As I was leaving, I went to hand it back to the husband and he said, “Pastor, I think you should keep it. You have been wearing it out ever since I handed it to you. I think you need it more than I do.”

I still have that worry stone and it is one of the prized possessions of my ministry at Virginia Hills. I keep it in my office with the dachshund shaped foot scraper that Gerald Strickler gave me, the walking stick that Homer Hammersley gave me, and the “golden” railroad spike that Don Shamblin gave me.

After 37 years of ministry, I have quite a collection of this kind of stuff. I have a clock that the church gave me on my fifth anniversary as pastor, the little plastic dinosaur that a preschooler slipped into my pocket one year, and the tiny toy excavator that Jody Faig gave me at the last service in the old building.

I keep these things as a reminder of how much I love being the pastor at Virginia Hills, and the wonderful people that have made my ministry a such a joy. As we look to a new chapter in the life of our church, I look forward to more ministry and more wonderful people. God has more in store for us than we could ever imagine!

haircut

I was helping with the preschool before-care program last week when one of our kids came in sporting a new haircut. His teacher commented on how nice he looked, and all the other kids agreed that it was a most excellent haircut. A couple of the kids suggested it was about time for them to get haircuts too.

I looked at one of them and said, “Do you think I need to get a haircut too?” She laughed and said, “Don’t be silly, Pastor Bart, you don’t have any hair to cut!” I laughed too, but inside I was thinking, “Smart-Alec kid.”

I do still go to the barbershop, but these days it’s mostly to get my eyebrows and ear hair trimmed. When they ask how I want my hair cut I usually say, “Just a little off the top,” and they look confused, not knowing if I’m joking, or need to be institutionalized.

Hard as it may be to believe, I used to have plenty of hair. There was a time when it was so thick I could barely get a comb through it. It was thick and curly and not at all the “cool,” straight hair that was popular in the 1970’s. I always wished I could have straight hair, until it started falling out when I was in college. Now I figure any hair is better than none at all.

When I was little, my mom would take me to a barbershop in Springfield. So, when I came home from college one summer and needed a haircut, that’s where I went. A man that I did not recognize called me to his chair and started cutting. After a while I heard him say, “You know, Bart, I remember when you were little, and your mother brought you in. Your hair was so soft and wavy and thick.” I didn’t realize it when I sat down, but this guy had been cutting my hair all my life. I didn’t know him, but he knew me, and called me by name.

I no longer remember that barber’s name, and I’m sure he has since passed away. I have transitioned to a barbershop closer to home and have not been to the one in Springfield for over 40 years. But as I hear of preschooler’s haircuts, I’m reminded of a day long ago when I wandered into a semi-familiar place and was served by a man who remembered me before I was old enough to remember anything.

In Jeremiah 5:1, the Lord tells the prophet, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart.” Like a barber from long ago, the Lord knows me and calls me by name. In a world that is chaotic and changing, I am comforted by that fact.

hip replacement

About 25 years ago I became aware of a problem with my hip. After a season of church league softball, my leg was hurting, so I did the typical male thing and ignored it. But after several weeks it was not getting better, so I broke down and made an appointment with my doctor. He twisted and turned my leg and said, “You have a sprain.” He treated me for my “sprain” for a couple of months before saying, “Oh, sorry. It’s not a sprain. You have damaged a ligament.” He treated my ligament for a few months and then decided to get an x-ray and see an orthopedics doctor.

When the doc threw the x-ray up on the screen, he knew exactly what the problem was. “No wonder your leg hurts. You had Perthes Disease when you were a kid.” This was news to me, but apparently when I was about five years old this disease attacked my right hip. It caused the ball that fits into the hip socket to get mushy. The doctor showed me how the ball, which is usually round, was more egg shaped. That made one leg longer than the other and put pressure on my left leg. He recommended that I wear a lift in my right shoe, but that I would probably need hip surgery before I was 50.

Well, I’m 65 now and still waiting for that hip replacement. Most of the time the hip doesn’t bother me, but as I get older it seems to ache a little more. As I was getting out of the chair a few weeks ago, my moans and groans prompted my wife to say, “Is it time to get that hip replacement?”

I thought it very well might be, so I made an appointment with an orthopedic specialist. I was a bit surprised when I was told I don’t need surgery…yet. The hip looks good, there is little evidence of arthritis, and I may not need surgery at all. He did diagnose a small tear in the cartilage surrounding the hip socket. He gave me some exercises to try and sent me on my way.

How did I get this tear in the cartilage? No clue. I don’t remember hurting myself, but at my age I get hurt climbing out of bed. For now, I’m grateful that I can put off the hip surgery until another time.

Jacob had a different kind of hip surgery in Genesis 32. While on his way to meet his brother Esau, he encountered an “angel” with whom he wrestled. The result was a dislocated hip and a new name, for from that time on his name was Israel. He also became a different person. He was a much nicer guy after his “hip surgery.”

Very often, the pain in our lives changes us. It gives us a chance to realize what is really important, to get our priorities in order, to humble us. Sometimes our suffering is arbitrary. It just hurts. But sometimes, God uses it to mold us into a better person.

who will roll away the stone

In Mark’s gospel we read about how the women went to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. As they were walking, they asked themselves, “Who will roll away the stone for us?” The heavy stone was in place to keep wild animals out, and to keep the scent of death in. It usually took a couple of big, beefy guys to roll the stone away. The women knew the stone would be too heavy for them to move by themselves. Who would help them?

When they arrived at the tomb, however, they discovered that the stone had already been moved. Who done it? Well, God done it! As is often the case, God does things that we cannot do ourselves.

For months now we have been waiting to get our building permits from the county so we can begin construction on our new building. Every week someone asks me how our building project is going, and every week I tell them “We are waiting for the permits.” It is exasperating.

I am one of those people who carries way too much responsibility. If something goes wrong, I feel it’s my responsibility to fix it. If Mrs. “Jones” can’t hear on Sunday morning, I have to do something about the sound system. If Mrs. “Smith” says the sound is too loud, it’s my problem. If Mrs. “Magillicuddy” sees that her name is spelled wrong in the church directory, I need to take care of it (even though she’s the one with the unspellable name).

So, when we go for months waiting for our building permits, my natural inclination is to want to fix it. I need to do something about this. Who can I get to move this building permit stone? Who do I call? Who can I email? Whose cage do I need to rattle to expedite the process?

This morning, as I was doing my devotion, I was reading from the 16th chapter of Mark. When I came to the bit in verse 3 about “who will roll away the stone?” the words seemed to jump off the page at me.

And then I read verse 4, which tell us that when the women arrived, the stone was already moved. They didn’t have to do a thing. The problem was already solved. I think what God is telling me is that the building permits are not my problem. They are way too big for me to move. I need Him to take care of it. And he will! But first I have to let go.

Now if I can just figure out what to do about Mrs. McGillicuddy.

entrepreneur

The other day I was driving home from the office when I saw a kid riding his bicycle. He looked like he was about 12 years old and behind his bike he was pulling a cart. On that cart I saw a leaf blower, Weed Wacker, hedge trimmer, and loppers.

While I had no way to be sure, I imagined he was on his way to one of his customers to do some yard work. Instead of going home after school and staring at his cell phone, this guy was willing to put in the effort to make a few extra dollars.

When I was his age, I had a neighborhood friend who did the same thing. He started off borrowing his dad’s lawn mower and cutting a few lawns in his neighborhood. When he saved enough money, he bought his own lawn mower and expanded his business. He did all this while I was watching TV. (I did not have his entrepreneurial spirit)

This neighborhood friend is still cutting grass, though he has graduated from a push mower to a riding mower. I see him in the summertime caring for the lawns of a rather large clientele. I can only imagine the amount of money he has deposited in the bank thanks to his hustle and hard work.

I’m reminded of a passage from the 6th chapter of Proverbs:

Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise!

It has no commander, no overseer or ruler,

Yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest.

How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep?

A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest,

And poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like and armed man.

I looked at the kid on the bike and thought, “This guy is an ant. He’s most definitely not a sluggard. This kid is going to go far.

First day of school

Do you remember your first day of school? When I was growing up there was no kindergarten in the public schools. Unless you went to a private kindergarten your first school experience was the first grade.

I remember well the day I started attending Bush Hill Elementary School. It was awful! I remember the fear, separation anxiety, and the feeling in my stomach like I was about to barf. I hated it.

This was complicated by the fact that many of my classmates were old hands at the school thing. They had attended kindergartens like the one offered by Virginia Hills Baptist Church. (In fact, one my classmates in the first grade was a graduate of the VHBC program. He is still a good friend today) Many of the kids in my class had learned socialization skills, the alphabet, and their numbers. I had not.

So, this shy, introverted kid, was behind everyone else at the beginning. It didn’t help that I had a teacher who resembled the wicked witch of the west. For the first three years I hated school. I was never happier than when the school bell rang on Friday afternoon. And I was never unhappier than Sunday nights when I had to go to bed, knowing that the next day I would have to return to that scary place.

It wasn’t until the fourth grade that I started to catch up, enjoy learning, and feel comfortable. I share all of this because this is the first week of our church’s preschool. Some kids come in all smiles, ready for the new school year. Others must be pried away from their parents. The halls are filled today with the sound of crying.

I empathize with the criers. I can relate. Change is hard, especially when it involves separating from what is familiar and comfortable. When I hit the first grade, I was no longer able to watch cartoons all day. And mom wasn’t around to pick me up when I fell. And I certainly didn’t want that old lady kissing my boo boos.

But think of what I would have missed if I hadn’t started school. I would have missed making friends with my VHBC kindergarten graduate. (A friendship that is now in its 58th year) I would have missed the joy of learning to read, playing kickball at recess, and falling in love for the first time with Susie Beth Mellencamp. (Or whatever her name was)

We are in a season of change at Virginia Hills. And it is hard! Just like going to school for the first time, we are experiencing the loss of that which is familiar and comfortable. The future is uncertain as we look to a building that is different from what we are used to. As I listen to the cries of my preschool friends, I am reminded of Jesus’ words in John 16:33, “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Scratches

Some of you may recall that we have a cat named Mozzie at our house. Mozzie fancies himself the official alarm clock of the Purdy household. When he decides it is time to get up his meowing would wake the dead.

This morning, Mozzie decided it was time to get up at 3:00 AM. I was about to throw him out of the room and go back to bed when he jumped on my face, leaving the scratch you see in the picture above. I’m sure he was just playing but his claws made a mess of my face.

At that point, going back to sleep was no longer an option. So, I washed the scratch, applied some antiseptic, and put on the coffee pot. Moz took his normal position on the armrest of my chair while I did some reading. He had a condescending look on his face that seemed to say, “Why did you put your face in the way of my claws?”

At this point the wound has stopped bleeding, it no longer hurts, and I’ve moved on with my day. I pretty much forget about it until someone looks at me. Some people are too polite to mention it, but I can see the wheels turning. They are wondering if they should call Adult Protective Services. Others look at me and say, “Oh my goodness! What happened to your face?” I received a lot of sympathy today.

Life is like that sometimes. We get nicked up a little. Scrapes and scratches are a part of life. Some of our injuries send us to the ER, but most of the time they are a minor inconvenience. I look at myself in the mirror and I think, “It could have been a lot worse.” Two inches to the north and Mozzie could have blinded me. I didn’t get any blood on the sheets, and my wife slept through the whole thing. I call that a win.

In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul speaks of his “thorn in the flesh.” We are not sure what it was, but when Paul prayed that God would remove it, the Lord said, “No.” Apparently, it was not life threatening, just inconvenient. Paul discovered that’s God’s strength was made perfect in weakness. I don’t like getting scratched on the face, but that inconvenience pales in comparison to the many blessings of each day.

unstoppale

I’m unstoppable, I’m a Porsche with no brakes

I’m invincible. Yeah, I win every single game

I’m so powerful, I don’t need batteries to play

I’m so confident. Yeah, I’m unstoppable today

The above lyrics are from a song by Australian singer-songwriter, Sia. Written by Sia and Christopher Braide, it was recorded in 2016. It has become popular in the US in recent years due to its use in commercials and TikTok.

I’m not sure how I became aware of this song. The “electro-pop” genre is not really my style. I’m more inclined to listen to Perry Como, Eddy Arnold, or Ray Price. But the catchy refrain struck a nerve with me. It came at a time of frustration in our new church building project.

This thing is dragging out. For all the work we have put into it we have nothing to show for it. We are still waiting for building permits. Still waiting for construction to begin.

But the song reminded me that this project is unstoppable. God will get it done in spite of the obstacles. In the meantime, our job is to sit tight, be patient, and wait on the Lord.

The Olympics

The first Olympic Games that I was aware of was in 1968. Our elementary school gym teacher, Mr. Neff, gave us an assignment to give a report on the Olympics. Every four years I think of Mr. Neff and give thanks that he introduced me to this sporting event that has given me so many memories.

That was the year the games were held in Mexico City. It was the year Bob Beamon broke the world record in the long jump by almost two feet. A record that would stand for 33 years.

I remember the 1972 games in Munich. Dave Wottle had an incredible come from behind victory to win the gold medal in the 800 meter track event. That was also the year we were introduced to Mark Spitz, the swimmer who won seven gold medals. And Olga Korbut, the gymnast from the Soviet Union, who won the hearts of Americans in spite of the Cold War.

There was Nadia Comaneci, who earned a perfect score in gymnastics in Montreal, the boycotted games of 1980, which were held in Moscow. The Los Angeles Games of 1984 and the fall of Mary Decker Slaney in the 3,000 meters, and the four gold medals won by Carl Lewis.

I remember the flaming arrow that ignited the Olympic flame in Barcelona in 1992, the Atlanta games and the bombing that killed two and injured dozens, the Athens, Beijing, London, and Rio De Janeiro games in which Michael Phelps won a total of 23 gold medals, the Tokyo games of 2021 that were postponed because of Covid.

This year, the games are being held in Paris, and Simone Biles and Katie Ledecky have added their names to the list of greatest Olympians of all time. Even as I write these words, other athletes are providing memories that will last a lifetime.

One thing I love about the Olympics is that all of these athletes gather in the spirit of peace. They are able to set aside differences, conflicts, and wars, in the spirit of competition. Israel is there, but so is Palestine. South Korea is there, but so are North Korea athletes.

As our country looks ahead to our presidential election in November, we are a deeply divided nation. But we can learn a thing or two from our Olympic athletes. They remind us that love is stronger than hate, that courage is stronger than fear, peace is stronger than war, and light is stronger than darkness.

What’s the big idea

I have a young friend in our preschool named CJ. He is a sweet kid with an easy smile and a joyful demeanor. He loves to read, color, and play with blocks. He also has a game he likes to play with the pastor.

One day last year he snuck up behind me during the before-care program. He tapped me on the shoulder and then hid behind my chair when I turned around. Apparently, it’s a load of fun fooling Pastor Bart. As I called his name and said things like “where did he go?” CJ would laugh hysterically before tapping me again and then hiding behind the chair. I believe this kid could play that game all day long.

When he finally came out from behind the chair I said, “Hey, what’s the big idea?” The phrase stuck in his little mind and became a part of his daily communication. Now, whenever he sees me, he says, “What’s the big idea?” It’s adorable!

That phrase, “What’s the big idea?” became a part of my vocabulary many years ago. So long ago, in fact, that I couldn’t remember where I heard it. The other day I looked up the phrase to see if I could find its origin.

I discovered it was a catchphrase that came into use in the early part of the 20th century. According to the internet, it was used to convey a sense of annoyance with those given to tomfoolery.

As I read about the phrase, I discovered where I must have heard it. It was commonly used by The Three Stooges and Daffy Duck, some of the great theologians of the 20th century. Mickey runs into Donald, Moe runs into Curley, Curley runs into Larry, and the common response is “What’s the big idea?” It’s another way of saying, “What do you think you’re doing?”

I wonder if God ever uses those words when he looks at his church. When we are a member of a local congregation but are absent for months at a time. When we have plenty to say about how the money is spent, but never give any of our own. When we approach church ministries with a “Meh, good enough,” mentality, instead of bringing excellence to the table. When things don’t go to suit us, so we abandon our church and join one that better “meets our needs.” When we complain about the demolition of a building that we haven’t set foot in for 40 years. When we are “too tired” to worship but have plenty of energy to go to the local casino. And most of all, when our relationship with Christ is superficial, instead of the central theme of our lives.

Hey church! What’s the big idea?

Shed

The other day my brother asked me if I could help him demolish a shed. I’m still not sure how I got talked into this, but on Thursday I joined him in tearing down the shed pictured above. What we thought would be a one-day operation became a three-day odyssey.

What we learned from this experience is that neither of us is as young as we used to be. We don’t have the strength, energy, or stamina that we once had. At the end of day two we knocked off early due to exhaustion and returned to the project on Monday. By the end of the day, we were tired and dirty and sweaty, but the shed was gone. As we were cleaning up, my brother said, “Well Bart, it’s official. We are now certifiably old.” I knew that was the case for him. I didn’t realize it was true of me too.

In my mind I am still in my 20s. I have a full head of hair, can carry heavy objects by myself, and can climb a ladder without getting dizzy. Now, I have to remember my hat when I go outside, or my bald spot will get sunburned. If I carry anything heavy, I need to stop and rest along the way. And before I get down on my knees, I need to develop a specific plan for how I’m going to get back up.

Sunday afternoon, my son invited our family to visit him at his apartment in DC. The apartment complex has a rooftop pool, and we all went swimming. What stood out to me was the number of young people on that rooftop. Young folks in their 20s. They were young and strong and nimble and there was not an ounce of fat among any of them. They looked a lot like the image I have of myself when I was that age. How did I go from 20-something to 65 so quickly?

James 4:14 reminds us that life is like a vapor that is here for a short time and then disappears. I think what James is saying is that we need to make the most of every day. Work hard. Play hard. Do good. Go swimming with your family. And don’t forget to spend time with your brother. Especially if he is “certifiably old.”

It’s A Dry Heat

When my wife and I were traveling a few weeks ago, we visited some of her cousins in Phoenix, Arizona. The day we arrived it was 110 degrees. That’s the actual temperature, not the heat index. When I mentioned the temperature to Jeannine’s cousin, Russ, he said, “Yeah, but it’s a dry heat.”

Granted, the humidity level in Arizona is lower than it is in Virginia, but 110 is still pretty darn hot. I kept thinking to myself while we were there, “Who in their right mind would want to live in a place where it is so hot?”

Well, the answer to that question is: Cousin Russ. He loves it out there. He loves the low humidity. He loves the mild winters. He loves being able to stand outside in January in his shorts. He loves not having to shovel snow, rake leaves, or cut grass. (His front yard is astroturf!) He loves cactus, and the Arizona Diamondbacks, and the Arizona Cardinals.

Just like Russ likes Arizona, I like Virginia. I love the changing seasons. I love the falling leaves and the cooler weather and the possibility of snow. And I like the Washington Commanders and the Washington Nationals. I guess it’s all a matter of what we are used to. (Italics added for emphasis)

If Russ were to move to Alexandria, I’m sure he would adapt and grow to like it. And if I moved to Phoenix, I would adapt and learn to like it as well. One of the wonders of God’s design is that he created human beings to be adaptable.

The past few weeks have brought great change to our new building plans at Virginia Hills. In order to reduce costs, we have needed to adjust the size of the building. Some of these adjustments have been painful.

I think the reason for the pain is that a change in plans is different than what we are used to. Isn’t it ironic that the plans themselves have become the norm? At this point the old plans and the new plans represent a building that doesn’t exist yet!

This past Sunday the building committee met to discuss ideas for cost-saving changes to our design. Today, our architect forwarded a new plan based on that discussion. I had made up my mind ahead of time that the new plan would be disappointing. (i.e. – not what I’d become used to) But when I saw the new design, it stirred my heart in a way that was exciting. It made me think, “Oh! Maybe this is what God had in mind the whole time. We just needed to catch up to Him.”

Tinder Box

Last week I finished reading the book Tinder Box: The Iroquois Theatre Disaster, 1903, by Anthony Hatch. The Iroquois was a theatre in Chicago. It opened in the fall of 1903, and during its inaugural show, caught fire in the fifth week of performances. The fire was responsible for the deaths of almost 600 people, most of them women and children.

It was a perfect storm of circumstances that led to this disaster. A faulty stage light caught a curtain on fire during the second act. The fire safety curtain snagged while it was being lowered. The theatre was overcrowded. But what made the theatre such a death trap was that it was not even finished yet. The fire escapes had never been completed. There was no fire alarm and no telephone. In other words, the building was not up to code.

We are in that frustrating no-man’s-land in our building project where we are trying to get our building permits from Fairfax County. The process has been a lot like getting a root canal.

While obtaining building permits is a hassle, Tinder Box has given me a new appreciation for building codes. Doors need to open to the outside to prevent people from piling up at an exit. Exits need to be clearly marked, and there needs to be enough of them. Firefighting equipment needs to be at hand, and the staff need to be trained to use it.

When it opened, the Iroquois Theatre was advertised as “fireproof,” just like the Titanic was labeled “unsinkable.” I want to see some progress in our new church. I want us to obtain the necessary permits to move forward. But I don’t want to sacrifice safety in the name of expedience. Our building will be done when it’s done. It will be a beautiful, up-to-date facility. And it will be safe. AND it WILL get done!

The Rise and fall of king david

On July 7th, we will begin a four-week sermon series entitled “The Rise and Fall of King David.” The Old Testament lectionary readings for these Sundays come from the book of 2nd Samuel. The sermon series will look like this:

July 7 2nd Samuel 5:1-5 They Anointed Him King

14 2nd Samuel 6:1-5; 12-19 Dancing a Holy Jig

21 2nd Samuel 7:1-14 Building the House of the Lord

28 2nd Samuel 12:1-13 You Are the Man!

David is one of the more fascinating figures in the Bible. His story is, well…, complicated. He slays the giant, writes the 23rd Psalm, leads ancient Israel to great heights. But he is also a flawed character. He has an affair with Bathsheba and then tries to cover it up.

I think one reason David’s story resonates with us is that we are so much like him. We have the capacity to do great things when we follow God’s will for our lives. But we also have the capacity to do horrible things. There is good and evil in all of us.

We see the complexity of David’s life in the picture above. Painted in 1622 by Gerard van Honthorst, it captures the key elements of his life. He is king, musician, composer. He is surrounded by darkness, and yet he is illuminated by light when he looks to the Lord.

I hope you will join me during the month of July as we study this complicated figure. He has a lot to teach us.

Mr. Hoyt

A few weeks ago, Mount Vernon United Methodist celebrated their 70th anniversary. As part of the festivities, one of the church members shared a little of the history of the church. She had been a member there since the 60’s and had witnessed most of it herself.

During her presentation, she mentioned an organist who served the church many years ago. His name was Warren Hoyt. My ears perked up when I heard his name because he was my route manager when I delivered the Washington Post many years ago. He would drop off my papers at the corner of Franconia Road and South Van Dorn Steet.

The church member spoke of how Mr. Hoyt would drop off the papers for his carriers in the middle of the night and then drive by the church to practice while no one was there. Apparently, there was a switch on the organ that was connected to an outside speaker, and Mr. Hoyt would occasionally trip the switch inadvertently. When he did so the Belle View neighbors would get a free concert at 4:00 in the morning!

Warren Hoyt was a sweet old guy. Generous and kind and patient. He taught me a thing or two about customer service, diligence, and discipline. With his help I earned enough money delivering papers to pay for my first year of college.

At some point, Mr. Hoyt left the Mt. Vernon Church and became the organist at Groveton Baptist. It was there I encountered him again when Jeannine and I got married in 1988 and he played for our wedding.

A few years ago, I ran into his daughter at a high school reunion. I learned that Mr. Hoyt passed away in 2005. His legacy lives on in his three children and six grandchildren.

I share this because it is a reminder to me of how small a world we live in. If we look for them, we can find the ways that we are connected to the people around us. Since that anniversary celebration, every time I walk into Mount Vernon I think of my old route manager. I’m grateful for the life lessons he taught me, which brought me to a temporary worship space where we both did ministry.

Let’s Break Some Ground

Last Sunday was a watershed moment in the life of our church. We gathered on the construction site of our new building for a Groundbreaking Ceremony. Pictured above from left to right are German Prado (Pastor of La Hermosa), Michelle Matthews (Pastor of Kingstowne Communion), Bart Purdy (Pastor of Virginia Hills), Rodney Lusk (Franconia District Supervisor), Mark Sickles (Virginia House of Delegates), and Vicky Madden (Burke and Herbert Bank).

There were several other honored guests in attendance, including Betsy Hudson (Pastor of Mount Vernon United Methodist Church), Jody Faig (Baptist General Association of Virginia), Dean Stiles (Coldwell Banker Richard Ellis), Amanda Garber (Virginia Conference, United Methodist Church), Karen Stewart (Executive Director of Brightview Alexandria), Tom Ramirez and Slade Elkins (Elkins-Ramirez Architects), David Canfield (Bean, Kinney, & Korman Attorneys), and Glen and Regina Miller (Miller Brothers Construction).

We prayed together, read Ezra 3:10-13, read responsively, had a moment of silence for those who have gone before us, sang a song, and then busted some ground.

Of course, the ceremony was largely symbolic. Construction has not yet begun as we wait for building permits from Fairfax County. And while we have 88% of our construction costs available from the land sale, we are waiting to hear if several loan applications have been approved. Last Thursday we mailed a Capital Campaign brochure asking for pledges and donations for the project.

This is an exciting time, but also a stressful one. After 8 years of planning, strategizing, waiting, and praying, we have almost reached the starting line. And so much can still go wrong. But I believe this is God’s will for our congregation. And I believe he will get it done. Keep the faith my friends, for as it says in Philippians 1:6, “He who began a good work in you, will be faithful to complete it.”