POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 6

The trip back from just north of Minneapolis to the southwest of Minnesota was quick. I fanged it the whole way, placing the car on auto-pilot and not slowing down for corners. Poor Lizzie tried to sleep but kept awaking  to her feet hurtling an inch from her ear, the gear stick becoming lodged in her bellybutton and her face being rearranged on the previously spotless passenger window.

There was simply not a second to spare, though I refrained from reminding my delectable darling of this crucial actuality, for fear of my sleeping beauty's insatiable temper and her probable desire to ram the offending gear stick into my physical person.

As we sailed along another of America's never ending motorways, Liz and I barely talked. We sat together in quiet contentment, feeling completely affirmed by our visit with Zimmerman Community Church in the morning and wondering what might come of the remaining Churches in our North American itinerary.

Rattling along, we listened to Christian radio stations - positive, encouraging... After some time we flicked through the other 101 radio stations and found a delightful array of country, techno and heavy metal - we finally settled upon a Latino radio station, and laughed whilst enjoying the culture of our new home. The passion, the humour, the never ending chatter between, at the beginning of, and during each and every song.

We arrived back at our Lake Front Cottage, complete with jacuzzi, satellite tv, in-house doctor, and room for  a pony, with copious quantities of time. We sprinted through the shower, Superman through phone-booth style, whipped on our holy suit (Jed) and fanatically fellowshiping frock (Liz), gulped 2.5 cups of coffee (Liz sipping green tea, or some equally ghastly drink)and reverted back to the car.

To our delight, and simultaneous horror, our ever radiant hosts, Dom and Walther, their parents, brothers, sisters and in-laws would be escorting us to Mountain Lakes Assembly of God Church. Their support of us was to be invaluable. The nerves we'd be confronted with, on account of their presence, would nearly kill us.

We were pressed for time but thankfully Dom, a local - our faithful American friend whom we knew from our teaching days in Mexico,  would navigate the quickest route. As we drove through the Sunday afternoon, slumberville, country town of Mountain Lakes, I thought back to the telephone conversation I'd had with Pastor Savage.

He had seemed keen to have us share, but also questioned me in an apologetic manner, "you know there are larger Churches in town?" Perhaps he was not as nice as he'd seemed. Maybe his questioning was a polite way of saying "thanks, but no thanks..." The rudeness, the absurdity, why didn't I pick up on that during the "planning phase?"

Sometimes I have high, off the charts high, emotional intelligence. Why I can sense the mood of another party even better than they. Sit in front of me and I'll probably be able to tell you what emotions you're feeling, along with what you're currently thinking, whether or not you're happy, sad, wet your bed last night, what you had for breakfast this morning and if you're wearing pink and purple poker dotted underwear. At times, I seem to have a heightened sense of EQ. I can be that good.

Yet, conversely, I can also be that bad. Do you know how embarrassing it can be when your sometimes emotional brilliance enters the arctic regions and completely lets you down?

Try asking an overweight travel agency client who is NOT pregnant, once you've built an abundance of positive rapport with her, and just before taking payment for a $15,000 European holiday, if she's pregnant (because you've been studying her every action and have built your foolproof case). See how that works for you.

Try quietly telephoning, from your airport ticketing station, the customer service agent at the departure gate to let them know you have blocked all seats around Mr. Smith because he smells like he hasn't showered in three years - only to realise that you're actually mistakenly on intercom, sending your highly confidential message to all passengers in the entire terminal, including - but not limited to, Mr. Smith. Impressive?

I haven't even gotten started... The time you go back to work at your "old" job in the UK, and start to talk with your "old" colleagues about what a horror your "old" boss was, not paying attention to their throat-cutting motions and finger waggling (in fact, believing that those gestures were encouraging you on, as if to say "oh yeah, thank goodness she's no more") and then to have your "old" boss tap you on the shoulder and politely, though tersely shake your hand.

Or when you're waiting quietly in the bank teller queue and a stranger races in, laughing and screaming out something you don't quite catch, with arms extended - ready for the embrace, and you meet her halfway with a hug (reserved only for family members) and a kiss (oh yes, now I remember her - or so you think), only to realise, actually for the entire bank to realise, that in fact you've never met the woman before and the laughter, screaming and hugging is for the person in front of you in the queue.

Yes, at times I'm a social bear, not taking in any seemingly obvious signs, and dancing all over another person's emotions complete with party hat, popper and icing from the cake still smeared around my mouth.

Well, in any case, we were here now. I jumped out of the car, admiring the large Church building that stood before me. And then I remembered more of Pastor Savage's words, "we meet in a small building BEHIND the Church."

And there she stood - a building constructed before my birth, but not "vintage" or "heritage listed" if you get my drift. I approached the doorway, the cheerful sounds of Lizzie, Dom and Walther droning around my eardrums. I dodged a walking frame, wheelchair and skateboard. "Interesting", I thought to myself.

Pastor Savage approached me as we walked in - I most likely looking lost, confused, out of place. The sights and smells taking me back to my childhood at Kogarah Bay Congregational Church. My father was a young minister in his 20s and we lived in the manse next to the Church. I was at every Sunday morning service, among other meetings, and regularly climbed on, in and throughout the Church building and it's premises both when occupied and not.

Our scintillating, Sydney, seaside, suburban Church had a bell atop for clanging, a tall brick fence that lead from the ground to the roof of the structure (what 5 year old boy wouldn't want to climb that?), cupboards, an oversized pulpit, chicken coups, etc. At the time I could have been mistaken for thinking the entire mass of brick, metal, and wooden substance (smelling clean, yet dusty) was made entirely for my exploration and sensory delight.

Pastor Savage, or "David" (as he was known around town), was a young fella, possibly in his late 20s or early 30s. I immediately relaxed. In the hour since returning from Zimmerman I'd experienced many emotions about the evening's events, yet at this moment I felt kindred and connected.

Pastor David, married to a gorgeous, Christ-adoring, lover of people, conscientiously watched over a couple of his kids running around the Church hall. They dodged walking sticks, breathing apparatuses and knitting needles.

As I chatted with him, I began to connect-the-dots from both our previous telephone conversation and the discussion we were now having.

Mountain Lakes Assembly of God had once been a prominent Church in the local community. For one reason or another the average Church member had aged and the Church had begun to die a physical death, along with folk from the congregation.

To me it's a perplexing factor for the Assemblies of God Churches in the US. In my experience, I have to say, that I have only ever witnessed a can-do attitude amongst Assembly of God Churches in Australia.

Not to say that Aussie Churches are perfect or that they aren't shutting their doors on occasion, because that does happen.

Before we started attending our home Church, Capital Edge Community Church (where we've been members for 13 years), we twice visited Woden Assembly of God Church. This group of believers were on fire for God and completely "sold-out".

The praise and worship was sincere and musically professional. There existed a community of believers from across the age continuum, a diverse array of nationalities and people of differing socio-economic statuses (our family represented the class of "poverty" in this instance - it is also the "gift" we give to Capital Edge Community Church).

We didn't feel that Woden Assembly was for us and never returned after our first couple of visits. Years later the Church closed it's doors for the final time. Nothing wrong with the people, they were great. The Church just never "took off." There was no immorality, the Church leadership wasn't flawed in any great sense, they didn't have mountains of debt. Their time was just up. The Church members began attending other Churches in Canberra.

With that said, I really feel there is a strong anointing over Aussie Assemblies Churches, (although AG Churches, in Australia they are branded the "Australian Christian Churches") as leadership passionately pursue their communities for Christ, seek to have a voice politically, single-mindedly chase their people's hearts and lives for the Lord, fervently pray, etc (Australian Christian Churches face many challenges too. In my mind, a major issue is that our folk are reluctant to serve in Church. I believe it's a side-effect of our consumer-driven societies).

Yet, across the board, it's fairly safe to say that Aussie AG Churches are on their way deeper, outwards and upwards. This is not categorically the case in America. Some of the largest Churches in the USA are AG Churches, yet many, on a daily basis are shutting down, and why? Who knows... (God does)

Back in Mountain Lakes, Pastor Dave was a God-send to his community. The Church had fully embraced the man and empowered him to do all he could to "save" the Church. Hence, Pastor Dave was on a mission - working on bringing in younger Church members; families, youth, people that would continue the work that a previous generation had started in this sleepy, rural community.

Meeting Pastor Dave was significant for me. He represented my walk with the Lord. I believe God has given me a work to do in my corner of the World. It's relatively insignificant in physical terms, but holds a vast array of eternal value. And so forward do I march. I'm just beginning, with not much begun. Pastor Dave is in the same boat. He believes in the promises of God and has faith in the Church.

Pastor Dave also represents the hope that exists for Churches around the World - the next generation of leaders. As our meeting began, I looked around the room and observed the people who had come - the elderly. They loved Pastor Dave, for some a third their age, and believed in him.

He wasn't flashy or particularly clever. I think his "part" of our service included prayer and "now it's over to you, Jed." However, Pastor Dave has heeded the call to lead God's people and to reap a harvest. He has committed his life and the lives of his young family to what really matters most - souls.

And so what was Minnesota? It was the generous heart of our Heavenly Father, giving us gifts beyond measure. It was love, hope, joy and peace. It was a testimony to me of the power in hearing your calling and running with it, knowing that the God of Heaven holds this Earth in His hands.