Author: Mari Walker

Faith Stories: Kindness Oozing

As a salesperson, my son Luke encounters all types of people.  He is a great storyteller and often regales me with tales of entertaining or touching exchanges he has had with customers.  Luke is a very articulate young man fully engaged with modern culture, politics, sports and technology, and always has an opinion on any topic.  He is seldom at a loss for words.  Recently, however, Luke struggled to find the words to adequately describe a particular older gentleman who had come into the business.  He paused (an unusual occurrence for Luke) and then said:  “This man was so nice – like the people at St. John’s where kindness oozes out at every seam.”  I was so struck by his words that I immediately wrote them down so that I wouldn’t forget or distort them.

My son is not a member of St. John’s and has attended services only a handful of times, primarily at Christmas.  But Luke has perceived, like so many other visitors to our worship gatherings, that St. John’s is a place of sincere welcome and acceptance and kindness.  There are no strangers in our sanctuary, no loners, no outsiders.  The Holy Spirit is surely present in this place – a place where followers of Christ embrace their fellow man with openness and generosity and enthusiasm.

The Baton Rouge community is reeling with hurt and anger right now, mirroring the larger malaise of our country.  Cultural divides are rearing their heads like fearsome monsters from the deep.  Calls for building walls, deporting thousands of residents, excluding entire cultures blare out from all sides.  Division, not inclusion, seems to be the clarion call.

In our corner of the community, on our little speck of the globe, St. John’s United Methodist Church – where diversity is celebrated, where differences are embraced, and where resources are generously shared – serves as a beacon of love and understanding and unity.  Let us continue to follow Jesus’ directive to love our neighbors as ourselves and remain a bastion of hospitality and hope where a visitor will always sense ‘kindness oozing’ from every seam.

Betty Schroeder

Faith Stories: Pennies from Heaven

A few weeks ago, I was having coffee with my neighbor. Like me, she is a widow, and during our conversation, she asked me if I ever saw my husband, Ronnie, in dreams. When I told her no, she proceeded to tell me about how she had a recurring dream every few months or so, where she would see her deceased husband ride by on a train, smiling and waving to her out of the window! Well, I must confess that I was a wee bit, well, okay, a LOT jealous over this. I couldn’t understand why, in the five years that he had been gone, I had not ONCE dreamed about Ronnie. What was the deal here?

Later that same day, my son’s partner Cary called to see if I wanted to go look at dogs at the pound. Ronnie and I had always had dogs, but he had generally been the caretaker, and when he died, I felt like I couldn’t even take care of myself, let alone an animal, so I had given the dogs away. But now, five years later, I had gradually reached the point where I was ready for the responsibility of a dog; however, I had a LONG list of necessary (and non-negotiable) requirements and expectations! So you can imagine my surprise when we walked into the pound that day and immediately found what seemed to be the perfect rescue dog in the front display kennel, just waiting for me!

We took her outside, and right away, she did her business on the grass (check that off the list – housetrained!). But as we walked her around the yard, I became unsure – I was just planning on looking. Should I get the first dog I found? I hadn’t even looked anywhere else. Cary had been kind enough to bring me, but he wouldn’t make the decision for me, or even give me an opinion. I didn’t know what to do. 

We stooped down to pet the dog; she rolled over so that we could scratch her belly. And then it happened. When she got back up, we found, buried in the dirt right under her, a penny. Oh my…you see, in my family, a penny means that Ronnie is watching over us from heaven! My granddaughters even call those finds “Grumps Pennies,” using their special name for him! That was all the encouragement I needed – I went right back into the office, paid for her, and promptly renamed her Penny!

That night, as I cuddled on the sofa with my new Penny – who unbelievably met EVERY criteria on the list – I began to think about my neighbor and her dreams. No, I didn’t see Ronnie in dreams, but look where I DID see him…in random pennies and in perfect dogs. God speaks to all of us in different ways – we just have to listen. How does He speak to you?

Barbara Benton

Faith Stories: About Being Community

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another – and all the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10: 24-25

At a church meeting last year Pastor Jay posed this question – can you be a Christian without coming to church? Sounds like a trick question, doesn’t it? My first thoughts stemmed back to the time I had experienced between church memberships. I made many excuses for that long interim – physical moves, a spouse of another faith, too busy to get involved – it was a pitiful list! I had always attended and belonged to a church as a child, teen, young adult, and well into my forties. I had always been active in these churches and cherished the fellowship they brought to me. But when the first big move came, I fell away from church attendance and commitment. Believing I was a ‘good person’ and I could speak to God directly, I took the ‘easy’ way out and quit attending church. 

That period of drifting lasted entirely too long. After our move to Baton Rouge I would drive by St. John’s and feel a tug of something missing. This church seemed to be calling out to me in some strange way. It always brought back wonderful memories of past churches to which I had belonged. I can’t remember exactly what drew me to St. John’s the first time. Well, actually I do know. It was God calling me back home.   

So I became part of this new and loving family, a community of believers that welcomed me into St. John’s. Now, as our church grows, I feel special pride in so many ways! I love the diversity of our church, its many outreach ministries, and its membership growth at a time when so many traditional churches are faltering. At communion time on Sunday I just love hearing Pastor Jay say, “This is not a Methodist table but . . .” When he said, “You can’t be a Christian and the Lone Ranger at the same time” – I get it!

Acts 2:42, in its description of Pentecost, states this about the first church, “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” From Verse 44 – “All the believers were together and had everything in common.” St. John’s is a community of believers, all different but unique, and I am so glad to be a part of it.

Bobbi Marino

Faith Stories: Why Lord?

Why Lord? Why your faithful servant? WHY??

Many know my husband and his battle with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease). The battle began over two years ago with a definitive diagnosis. That three letter word became my go-to “argument” with God. Why Jere? Why this faithful servant? Why this loving man? Why this devoted missionary to Cuba? Why this second-to-none Sunday School teacher? Why, why, WHY!?!?!

As time moved on from the diagnosis, I gradually – and oh so gradually – began to sense that there was an answer to “why,” but I could not put my finger on it. Jere had such a peace, such an intentional approach, so strong, so pragmatic, so concerned for his family, for me. I began to wonder if I could take on a battle like this with such courage and resolve. I doubted that I could. Certainly there were many ups and downs along the journey. I have likened it to a dance. We moved together, but the rhythm and the type of dance morphed along the way and I had to learn how to follow my partner, follow his lead. Trust me, there was many a time that we were not in sync, but mostly we danced… together.

As time went on, which now seems like only a second, the battle raged on, and it was pretty evident that the ALS would win out and on October 10, 2015, it did. It has only been in the past few months that my argument with God was settled. Of course He won! The answer was clear as a bell. Looking back, I think I knew the answer all along. Jere was a Christian witness in the way he lived his life, in the way he battled with a horrific disease and yes, even the way he evangelized on his death bed. His legacy to me, to many and perhaps to you, was his steadfast love of God, his unwavering trust in the promises of the cross and his commitment to serve others. “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’ and ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” Luke 10:27

Yes, our dance ended; the music stopped; but now I keep hearing…

“Dance, then, wherever you may be; 

I am the Lord of the dance, said he

And I’ll lead you on wherever you may be,

And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said he.”

(United Methodist Hymnal #261)

So, no longer do I ask the question “Why?” but rather, “Lord, increase my faith and please lead me on in the dance.”

Susan Johnston

Faith Stories: My Faith Journey to St. Mark’s UMC Mission

While at church one Sunday, the announcement was made about a Volunteers in Mission trip to New Orleans to work on the St. Mark’s UMC church building and to feed the homeless on the corner of N. Rampart and Governor Nichols Street, located in the “Vieux Carre.” Since I have a very deep fondness for this great city of ours, I went to speak with Rev. Larry Norman, who was leading the mission. The first words out of my mouth were, “I cannot do physical labor, but I can cook.” His first words were, “Great, you can lead the cooking for the team and the 150 homeless people.” My rebuttal was, “Uh wait just a minute… I am a virgin at mission work and cooking for this many people.” His rebuttal, “Don’t worry about it. We will go over what you need to do.”

My first approach was to get some St. John’s folks to donate casseroles to feed the 150 people plus our team, which was 12 members strong. That was a very easy task because our members will always help any way they can. The next chore I had was to figure out how much food to order. All I can say is, “Hello!!! Google, you are a Great Friend of Mine.”

The day came when I decided to prepare Meatball Sauce with Spaghetti, French bread and Garden Salad and for dessert homemade cookies donated by a St. John’s member. The next step was to start figuring out how much of each thing I would need. I had to fix 2 breakfast meals, 3 lunch meals and 2 dinner meals, plus 5 snacks.

The ordering of the supplies was a task in itself but I was very blessed by my daughter Cara who works for a national food company that orders and delivers for restaurants. My friend Google helped with the amount to order and, believe me, it was a very large supply. Let me say that I did have assistance with this process.

Then off we went for the wild weekend ride. The work was strenuous, time consuming and included a lot of dish washing and cleaning up of the kitchen area. The rewards were great. We even received our communion in the kitchen… now how is that for service?

We went to church service on Sunday with our name tags on. Everyone in the church had on a name tag. While I had a few minutes, I started visiting with the people that were there. By looking at the name tags, you figured out very quickly that the names were not real. In conversation, they explained the name they chose and why they chose it. The ladies seemed to have pretty actress or singer names and the men took to authors or actors. I had a wonderful conversation with Sherlock Holmes and William Shakespeare. But I honed in on this guy sitting quietly in the pew and asked his name and it was John… yes, you are right, John Wayne. I asked him to go outside with me for a minute as I needed fresh air and he told me his story. Thanks be to God, he had an old family home that he shared with his siblings. He had numerous jobs and adventures throughout his life, but for now he is the acolyte for the St. Mark’s UMC and is very proud of it. 

Some of the stories I heard were frightening to say the least. I found out that the homeless will usually team up in pairs. While one sleeps, the other keeps watch for robbers. They live in constant fear since they are sleeping under embankments and covered by boxes or whatever else they can find. I was told a story about one night when the person who was supposed to be keeping guard fell asleep and they were robbed and stabbed. The police will not come out if they are stabbed with a small knife so the injured walks to a hospital for a stitch or two. 

Everyone I spoke to that Sunday all stated how blessed they were and how great God is. They said it could be worse… can you imagine that? That made me think of how I really feel about being blessed. Do I just say that because I believe in Christ and make myself feel better or do I really believe what I say when I announce that I am blessed? After all, I am not homeless and sleeping on park benches and under bridges, etc. I really thought this through and prayed to God for guidance to see if I was just mouthing off so friends and family would believe that I am a Christian. God spoke to me in my heart by saying, “You always have thanked Me for your precious family being blessed with no disabilities to speak of. You have always thanked Me for your parents and for your St. John’s family. So I think I really found out that I did mean it when I thanked him for blessings and also his grace. The homeless also brought up the grace factor of God for they were not killed the night before and they woke up that Sunday morning and were fed lunch. Really makes you think, doesn’t it?

Another thing happened on that 72-hour adventure. I became more fond of and thankful for my church friends. Sounds funny but it is the truth for you see, I learned a lot about them. Seeing them in church on Sundays falls short of getting to know them. I tell you the truth; they are a beautiful bunch of people who are not self-centered and fake. The team worked together and wanted to help each other in every way they could. No one whined or complained about having to do such hard work. They rolled up their sleeves and did what had to be done silently and relentlessly. We were always polite to each other but freely spoke our minds without fear. 

And one more thing…I had no fear while I was there. You know how you hear the stories of robberies, killings, etc. in the Vieux Carre’, but I felt as if I was at home in my back yard, except it was bigger, noisier and a bit dirtier. Just kidding, I really did feel comfortable and unafraid the entire time even when we went out at night. I also felt relaxed mentally, just felt warm and sincere and not stressed out as I thought I might be. The warmth of our Lord surrounded us all. I thanked God over and over again for this wonderful experience.

Kathleen McCann Adams

Faith Stories: Love from St. John’s Reflects Christ’s Love

“I give you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, so you also must love each other. This is how everyone will know that you are my disciples, when you love each other.” –John 13:34-35 (CEB)

Being a mother has taught me a lot about love, but the journey to become a mother of two has revealed new depths of love from our church family. We were new to the church when Jane was born. We were surrounded with love then too, of course, but Livia’s birth has shown me how that love has grown in just over four years. 

The struggle to get pregnant wasn’t something we talked about too much, but I knew we were supported in our waiting (and frankly impatience). When I did get pregnant last summer after more than a year of trying, I was rocked with terrible morning sickness. I received grace and support from those I was working with – on The Walk efforts and general church communications work. I was encouraged to take care of myself, and we rejoiced together at the news and prayed for a healthy pregnancy.

As the pregnancy progressed and things became more real, we experienced an enfolding love. Our Sunday school class gave us a baby shower and encouraged us every step of the way (as our then-Sunday school class did during my pregnancy with Jane). Each coffee time and passing of the peace was an opportunity to chat about the baby, ask how I was feeling and encourage Jane as she prepared to become a big sister.

After waiting so long to get pregnant we had to wait a long time to actually have the baby too, as I was overdue by nearly two weeks. When we were finally induced, Pastor Jay surprised me by meeting us at the hospital to pray – for the health and safety of me and the baby especially. As someone working behind the scenes at the church I sometimes forget that I’m a member too, and Jay’s presence at the hospital meant a great deal to me although I never would have thought to ask.

Due to Livia’s jaundice we stayed an extra day in the hospital, which messed up our child care schedule with my mom’s departure and sister’s arrival. Ms. Jami and Ms. Jill blessed our family by taking care of Hurricane Jane on the day we came home by taking her to church, Sunday school and even lunch out at her favorite restaurant (Fuzzy’s Taco – who knew?!). That favor meant a great deal to us and was another real way we were reminded “you are loved.”

After we were home and getting settled we were surrounded by love even more as Ms. Heather set up a meal schedule and church members brought us nourishing food to ease the transition from three to four. It wasn’t just people we knew well who brought dinner. Acquaintances also fed us, reminding me that church family love doesn’t depend on how often you speak or how well you’ve gotten to know someone.

I knew church could be like this, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But since I’ve been an adult I’ve usually remained on the fringes of churches – simply dipping in a toe. At St. John’s I’ve slowly waded in more deeply, developing relationships through Sunday school and committee work especially. 

Our family is beyond grateful for the support we’ve received from St. John’s. We always knew we were part of the church family and loved, but during the pregnancy and after Livia’s birth we’ve been blessed in tangible ways. Thank you.

As a member of the church, you too are loved. And I hope we all can receive the blessing of loving each other deeply as a reflection of Christ’s love for us.

Mari Walker

Faith Stories: An Ordinary United Methodist

I am fascinated when I listen to friends in the Sojourners Sunday School class tell how their lives were changed when they discovered religion and became active in the United Methodist Church.  Each time I compare my story to theirs, I realize that I was just an ordinary Methodist whose parents took me to church with my brother soon after I was born. As a child, I learned that we would attend every Sunday service, Sunday School, and Wednesday prayer meeting. And this has been my involvement in the church all these 81 years.

When I look back on how I became a Christian, it is necessary for me to remember just what was significant enough for me to care about being active in church while I actually had no choice but to attend because my parents insisted that we be present when the doors opened. Then I remember the things that changed in my life that caused me to want to be an active participant.

First, my parents demonstrated what the church meant to them.  My father worked 6 days a week at a small grocery store from daylight to dark.  He always loved it when children would come to the store.  On Sunday, he loved to sing in the choir.  In our lives he was a kind man who had a great sense of humor. Although we lived in a segregated community, his work friend was the African American delivery man who had served in the war. They liked each other so much that the friend named one of his children after me.

Mother was in the UMW and they were as active as the members of our church today. She and her sister grew up in many different homes as a child because their mother died when they were quite young. Her father had several failed marriages and was not a role model.  I knew of their story yet observed that my parents were determined to have a stable marriage and assure that we received good parenting.

Church is where I met friends my age who were important in my life. We went to church camp together. We sang in the choir. Every Sunday night after the service, we would have folk dancing or play games.

Church was where I learned that there were families less fortunate than us so we would gather food baskets for them….just like St. John’s does on a grander scale.

During World War II, there was not enough housing in our small town for soldiers and their wives.  Our minister and most of the church members opened our homes to them.  We would see these couples separated when the husband was shipped overseas. I observed the way my parents became temporary parents to some of these families.  A number of families remained in touch with us through the years.

In college, there was Wesley Foundation where I met my wife, Yvonne, who also grew up in the church. After college, Yvonne became a teacher and I became a social worker. Now that we are retired, we try to be at church every Sunday, participate in programs to help others, enjoy being with our church friends, appreciate our caring minister, and just love the members of the Sojourners class.

We are just ordinary Methodists.

Don Fuller

Faith Stories: Virgin Birth … Really?

Miracles like the supposed virgin birth make me feel lost on my faith journey. My friend Marilyn says that she believes in the virgin birth because the Gospels report it, and God is capable of anything. My friend Liz tells me virgin birth is literary, not literal, code testifying to the kingship of Christ. My friend Jo Ann says we should take the Bible seriously, not literally. I tend to be a “cafeteria Christian,” which leads me to choose wisely — some parts I’ll believe, at least the ones that make sense to me, but other parts I’m okay letting go.

Sounds like it is the Gospel of Jane, not God’s. Yikes, that is totally not good. Faith should be in things unknown, even unknowable; but what then? Maybe like teasing out the meaning of a parable, I have been ruminating on the meaning of the so-called virgin birth story.

First, let me tell you, that whether it is literal reporting of facts or something else, my faith in Jesus is in no way dependent on the facts of the details surrounding the birth. Virgin birth or merely human makes no difference to my faith – so why even bring it up?

Well, the story is there, in the Bible – that book we call Sacred Scripture. Thinking about Mary’s pregnancy causes me to see the story in a way that does have meaning for me. Here’s my thought on this: we are the body of Christ. Each of us has a spark of Godness in us among the other not so great traits. Christ was both totally human and totally imbued with the whole of Godness, not just a spark. And that was truly a virgin birthing of God into the world. As for the biology of that, well, that’s a whole different story.

For this reason, my faith journey depends on having others with whom to share the stories. Not so much to find the correct answer (or the answer we agree upon) but to question what it all means; to taste the richness of the stories; to connect to the stories, as well as to learn from other perspectives on the same issue. Steps/decisions/understanding taken on my faith journey are informed by my ruminating on the word of God, considering again my God-given gifts and defects, and having my God-given journey mates share their experiences with me. I am thankful for all of them.

Jane Metcalf