When the phone rang on that Monday morning, I was actually scheduled to be in Thailand on a business trip. My pastor, Allen Black, was on the other end. “The district superintendent just called me,” Allen said, “and she has a church for you. You could start next Sunday.”
I had been out of pastoral ministry for several years and owned a consulting business. Only a week before, I had told my wife, Debbie, that I just didn’t feel I should make the trip to Thailand. I had cancelled my ticket and told my business partner that he would have to make the trip without me. Now I knew why I had stayed behind.
We had been praying for a church to serve, and God had answered our prayers—suddenly and dramatically. Although we were involved in our own church in outreach and new member training, God had been rekindling in my heart the call to pastoral ministry that I had received many years before.
Recovering from a “mismatch”
“This was a wonderful congregation, filled with wonderful people,” district superintendent Bettye Lewis told us. “Unfortunately, we had a mismatch in pastoral leadership and church personalities.” This “mismatch” had resulted in serious conflict. Members had left, attendance was down, and church leaders were discouraged. Now, both of us—church and pastor—had an opportunity to begin anew.
I caught a glimpse of it, hidden behind the plates and cups used for the Supper. I felt like a Knight Templar whose search for the Holy Grail had come to an exhilarating end.
“If you can just hold things together until we can make a permanent appointment in June,” Bettye said, “that would be a great ministry to this congregation.”
“And,” her assistant added, “if you’ll wear a robe in the pulpit, they’ll be as thrilled as if you were the bishop.” We all laughed, and I accepted the appointment.
Just as Bettye had said, the church was full of caring people who received us warmly on our first Sunday. Attendance had dropped into the low 30s, but on our first Sunday, 61 people showed up. It seemed we were off to a good start.
For the first few Sundays, I planned “safe” sermons. Fortunately, Thanksgiving was approaching, then Christmas, so I had weeks of good, safe topics to deal with. I wanted to get to know this congregation before I launched into anything more controversial than “God is love.”
In those first weeks, we dug into the history of the congregation. Surfing the web one night, I yelled to my wife, “You won’t believe this, but Prospect is on the Internet.”
In the early 1800s, Prospect was selected by a Methodist circuit rider as a preaching point, and later grew into a permanent congregation. The first written record of the congregation is about 1820, but by then the church was already well-established. The community of Prospect, situated on the Elk River in southern Giles County, Tennessee, had been a thriving area, with its own train station, post office, mercantile stores, a school, and a funeral home. The first church building was erected on the hill overlooking the township.
Church members told us about growing up in Prospect. The two main sources of entertainment in those bygone days were attending church services, and waiting at the train depot to see who got off. For decades the “church on the hill” served as the only congregation of any kind for folks living on the rolling farms of southern middle Tennessee.
Sadly, changing times took their toll. After World War II, the L&N railroad stopped its train service and later took up the tracks that ran beside Main Street through town. Businesses closed one by one. When children grew up, they moved away to seek better opportunities.
Still, the church had endured, until this latest conflict. Longtime members left, the ones who remained were disheartened, and the future looked less than promising. I was convinced, however, that God was not through with them yet. Almost 200 years old, the congregation may have been a little battered, but they were still standing. We still had something to do.
Tarnished, but salvageable
I wanted to give the congregation new hope by pointing to the past. I believed that their proud heritage could be the foundation on which we built a wonderful future.
In the membership records, I looked for the names of members added recently. I wanted to know who had joined by transferring from other churches. And, more important, I wanted to know the names of people whose lives had been changed at the church, those who had come professing their faith in Christ, and who had followed him in baptism.
In recent years, new members had been few, and baptisms had been rare.
When the “new” church was built in 1907, baptisms were held in the gently flowing waters of the picturesque Elk River, so the church did not have a baptistery or even a baptismal font. Modern times had led to indoor baptisms and the convenience of the baptismal bowl. But I had not seen the baptismal bowl in the three weeks I had been at the church. Where was it?
A search of the chancel, sanctuary, and choir room yielded nothing. But, as I opened the cabinet downstairs near the kitchen where the communion service was stored, I caught a glimpse of it, hidden behind the plates and cups used for the Supper. I felt like a Knight Templar whose search for the Holy Grail had come to an exhilarating end. I reached into the back of the cabinet and slipped the bowl sideways past the plates and held it up to the light for a closer look.
The bowl was dusty, and a little tarnished, but otherwise okay.
I carried it to the kitchen sink, soaped it up and washed it until its brass surface shone. This bowl is the symbol of our future, I thought.
A better prospect
Years ago, I heard a dynamic preacher say, “A good sermon ought to stretch your mind, warm your heart, and tan your hide.” Pretty good criteria for preaching, I thought at the time. I hadn’t done much “hide tanning” at Prospect yet, but I did want to stretch their minds and warm their hearts with the possibilities for the future.
Most of all, I wanted the congregation to know that God still had a mission for them. Despite declining membership, changing times, recent conflicts, and pastoral change, God was still in the business of changing lives at Prospect United Methodist Church. We needed to believe, again, that God was still at work here.
I had an idea. I debated with myself on Saturday night, and then again on the drive to the church Sunday morning. Ultimately, I decided to do it, although I was still a little nervous about the response I might get.
I had chosen John 3:16-17 for a sermon on God’s surprises. The faithful present that day had probably heard dozens of sermons on that text, but they seemed polite and attentive. I reminded them that God was still in the loving and saving business. I said, “When we gather each Sunday, we must believe that this God who loved us enough to send His Son is still at work, changing lives and calling people to Christ.”
At that point, I reached under the pulpit for a small pitcher of water. I stepped down from the pulpit and stood before Communion table on which I had placed the recently discovered baptismal bowl. Deliberately, I poured the water from the pitcher into the baptismal bowl. I faced the congregation and said, “From this day on, each time we gather for worship, this baptismal bowl will always be filled with water, in anticipation of those who will come to Christ and present themselves for baptism.”
And then, it happened. A reverent hush settled over the worshipers. I saw tears on the faces of choir members. Heads nodded in Amens. The presence of God was evident in that moment, giving new vision to our church’s tired eyes.
One Saturday afternoon six weeks after I preached this sermon, the phone rang at our home. “Brother Chuck,” a young voice said, “this is Regan. I want to be baptized.” The next day, we rejoiced together as 11-year-old Regan Hope Darnell presented herself to the congregation, professing her faith in Christ and requesting Christian baptism. Members of the congregation smiled as I lifted the baptismal bowl from the altar and baptized Regan. We thanked God that He was still at work in our church, as He had been for 200 years.
The baptismal bowl has remained on the altar, filled with water, waiting in expectation. Now, at every gathering, members tell me about families we should visit, new babies that have been born in our community, and folks we need to pray for. We’re still a small congregation, but we have a big hope now—the hope that God is still at work and that the best days of ministry for our church are still ahead.
One church leader told me recently, “This is our time. God has given us a new opportunity. We have a lot to do!”
Chuck Warnock is pastor of Prospect United Methodist Church in Prospect, Tennessee.
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