POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 7

We returned from Minnesota to Rochester toot-sweet. No time for dilly-dallying in Chicago. We put out our elbows and blended with the locals, knocking over small children, the handicapped, fragile vases purchased in "duty free," and the elderly - just so we'd make our connection.

To our surprise Lukey, Liz's most handsome brother, was waiting for us at the Greater Rochester International Airport. Luke, as I explained in an earlier post, is married to a New Yorker, Jaime, and together they have spawned a couple of beautiful little Angels, Tagdh &  Allegra.

Jed & Liz in the Greater Rochester International Airport on a famous Park Bench

We (Liz & Luke) ran around the terminal acting emphatically Eurovision, striking poses for photographs, which were momentarily discarded. Our foolish antics finally ended on some of Rochester's 100 gaudy park benches, the city's very own original artwork, replacing 100 kitschy galloping steeds. Who knows where the burst of energy came from - it was a fun, frivolous moment.

Luke & Lizzie in the Greater Rochester International Airport - looking Euphorically Eurovision

We had left our children, minus Fran who was still at Teen Ranch in Toronto, between the Will household, and Shane & Jen's abode. Shane and Jen are our oldest Rochester friends, in terms of the time we've known them (though it should also be known that they are older than us - MUCH older).

Shane is a tall and strikingly good looking, in that debonair, Clark Kent, nearly 40, almost as good-looking as me (just to give you a gauge), sort of way. Jen is understated, highly intelligent, naturally gorgeous, can finish your sentence, wise, hard working, much better looking than Shane (by comparison, with tongue against cheek) and a better friend you'll never find.

Shane, Jen, Liz & Jed - Believe it or not, we did not discuss our outfits. We're just THAT kindrid...

In previous times, when we've arrived on their doorstep, it's always felt like we've made a long, laborious journey home. We generally flop onto whatever takes our fancy (in our experience, and over the years, barely anything is recognisable - their furniture has always been upgraded - ever more suited to their growing family's needs and tantilisingly tasteful to-boot), whilst Jen makes up dinners, desserts and refreshing bevwas. 

Jen later joins us midway conversation, instantly knowing who and what we're talking about, and immediately correcting parts of our exhausted monologues, we thought she hadn't been privy to on account of her pot clanging during the post-feast cleaning frenzy which systematically entangles her. Now I know you're privately, pompously thinking - "first of all she cooks, then serves, eats and then cleans up?" Well yes, it is a matter of contention in our lives, but please let me explain...

For us this problematic issue goes back, waaaaaaaaay back, aaaaaaaaaaaall the way back to Brockport Crossings, a "housing estate" on the fringe of the university Liz and I attended, the State University of New York - Brockport campus. It's to die for!

We'd regularly hang-out with our best friends, our New Yorker soul mate couple, on the ground floor of their multi-story, minimum convenience, townhouse.

Lizzie and I would giggle with glee as we ran around their home, mucking things up. We'd turn the condiments around the wrong way, shuffle Shane's alphabetically ordered cds, push his two-finger-spaced closeted shirts to one side and rearrange lounge room ornaments. It drove him nuts, and it wasn't even really funny, but for some reason, in our juvenile days (cause we're so mature now), we found it to be hilarious.

Our favourite game was Risk. I believe it was ALWAYS on a Friday afternoon, we'd stroll over for dinner, witness a voilent neighbourHOOD beating, call 911 and await Police attendence - popcorn in hand and toddler faces pressed up against window pain. Shortly after we'd throw our kids into bed (where Fran would continue to rearrange things for Shane) and commence our all-night, all-out sessions of Risk, which Jen nearly always won anyway.

There would inevitably be intense moments, with World dominator style passion, to times of "who cares, it's only a game (when I was losing...)." Sometimes we'd laugh our heads off, other times we'd leave with just a "grunt" to say hooray. We were always friends and this showed in the way we were able to smile (though sometimes rather toothily) and carry-on in the same ol' fashion, the very next week.

One evening, we headed out at the end of the night (I think the sun was rising), with good cheer, only to remember that we had left Fran's dummie (pacifier) at their house.

Psht! Don't judge us!! Yes, we used dummies. You try travelling Canberra - Sydney - Bangkok - London as a man, solo - with a baby, toddler and small child.

Just whilst I'm completely side-tracked, I also wanted Liz to use drugs at the birth of our first - Franny, and worked myself into more of a state than Liz ever could. I reached boiling point when I worked out how patronised I was, after being escorted out of the delivery room by the midwife, arm being held and rubbed, and with a soft voice cooing "there, there Jed, you can get through this without drugs..."

Of all the HIDEOUS Tom-Foolery! I felt humiliated!! Vulnerable!!! Only half a man... How dare they stoop to that level! And so I did what any man would do. I marched straight back into that delivery room, stepped over Liz who was now in her medieval, fembot, newage, birthing position, perched myself atop the delivery bed, and started inhaling the sweet toxins of Nitrous Oxide. THAT, ladies, is how you give birth...

Anyway, I've completely digressed. After remembering about our forgotten "dummie" back in the Crossings, we headed back to Shane & Jen's. We didn't knock, because it was late, we simply poked our tired heads through the door.

We were going to say "hello", but only got as far as "hell", for what we saw befuddled us. There could be NO denying it, for standing in the entrance was Jen, cleaning products in rubber-hands, scrubbing any DNA traces of our existence, quite positively away.

And there was more! Shane was rewashing EVERY dish we'd "cleaned." Of all the insults, of all the audacity, of all the hilarity. Yes, Liz and I can be a little too easy going at times. 

Now as mature adults with way too many children/teenagers, on our North American Roadshow, we chitted and chatted the night away with Shane & Jen, eventually hitting the sack at around 3am.

Of course, whom should pop their head through the doorway at the break of dawn (midday) on the very next morning (well, you know, later that day)? Beth! "Good Morning", she half-whispered in a bright, brisk voice, coupled with an awkward smile. Her discomfort may have resulted from an attempt to poke her head past the door, which wasn't forgiving on account of her voluminous red hair and our floor-bound composting clothes heap.

Dear Beth had come to chauffeur us to our afternoon appointment. It was now afternoon. We ducked around, helter-skelter, simultaneously trying to prepare the sleeping ankle-biters and attempting to contact room service for breakfast.

But alas - Jen had moved on to lunch - something we were to become accustomed to, Jen moving on to the next meal with the rest of civilization. We made ourselves bagels, a treat we NEVER get in Nicaragua. Thank God for Jen's open-fridge-door policy... 

We headed to the shores of one of the Finger Lakes (the name alludes me) and met with Geneseo Assembly of God. This visit was similarly bitter-sweet to our visit with Mountain Lakes Assembly of God.

As with ML-AG, this congregation was also aging, yet they still had an older pastor, who was only months away from retirement. They were wonderful to us, welcoming with open arms, but this specific sight, an aged Church, was to become all too familiar and weighed heavily on my heart.

I could see that Pastor Paul was completely in love with Jesus and his people, but for whatever reason was unable to bridge the generation gap. I want anyone reading this to understand that I am not casting any kind of judgment here, because aging congregations can be the result  of any number of factors.

However, it had seemed that the Church was given a real chance of reinvigoration through a merge with a locally based non-denominational Church. After our "presentation", we were granted the opportunity of speaking with the pastor who'd previously led the non-denom. He seemed to be a gracious chap, somewhere around the BIG 4-oh mark. It was a great chat.

He explained that his Church had been vibrant and growing however, he'd felt that he should be utilising a Church building, sowing money back into the ministries of fellow Christians.

The non-denom approached Geneseo AG and formed an agreement with them to use their building of a Sunday evening. As time passed, it became clear that the AG Church had a morning and evening service, with not many people distinguishing between the two "bodies" of people.

And so the Churches merged. Pastor Paul, became the lead pastor, and the younger fella, became 2ic. Yet it was too good to last. Before too long the 2ic was forced to step aside from his Churching commitments, for family reasons, and started attending a home Church.

I believe this dealt a massive blow to Geneseo AG, as sadly, quite often Church attendance is primarily correlated to the person of pastor. It's just a guess, but I'm thinking the absence of the non-denom pastor's youthfulness, energy, creativity and originality was sorely missed.

He went on to explain some of the problems he sees with the denomination and I'll paraphrase here:

"In this day and age, there are profound issues confronting our youth. We believe that our teens must attend the very best universities to grant them the optimal start in life.

However, the very best universities can be rather pricey. Mega, well-to-do-Churches can afford offering a significant starting salary to recent graduates, which they need in order to cover their significant educational debts.

Smaller Churches in rural communities, start-ups, inner city Churches, etc., generally are unable to afford the cost of highly educated, professional pastors. The number of young graduates seeking a career in ministry seems to be dwindling."

Hence, all too often, reduced congregational numbers are not necessarily the fault of the aging pastor. In this scenario it seemed to me that the poor bloke just wasn't offered a fair-go. You could see that he'd extended himself beyond belief, working with the sick, the poor, the disabled, the elderly, other Churches, etc.

He had taken in dozens of orphans as foster children, working tirelessly for the cause of his community. At the end of the day his legacy will be that he loved the Lord, pastored his Church and blessed random, wacky missionaries like me.

There are faults with the system - it's manmade. And although I don't have all the answers,

I do think the best way forward for many Christians in the American AG Church would be to compromise and follow the lead of many successful pastors from years gone by, and adopt an apprenticeship of sorts.

I grew up under Gothard's "Advanced Training Institute of America," and although I admit he made many mistakes, I think his approach to training is appropriate in this circumstance. In smaller congregations, perhaps we should be training up leaders who attend university part-time or via correspondence, reducing or negating the cost of training, and giving the battlers a shot at it.

I believe, it all goes back to discipleship. Walking alongside people, through life, and being there for them, without exception. It begins with, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (John 14:6) But where to from there?

Shouldn't we be helping our youth capture a vision for God and their lives? That doesn't happen for all instantaneously, right before they need to make a decision at university. No, the seed needs to be planted much earlier and that is part of parental responsibility.

Honestly,  I was shocked when teaching at a Christian school, that most of the kids had not even contemplated what their lives would look like in future years. Yes, kids change their minds, I get that. But, training for some professions must begin in the earliest of years.

I had one little girl say "oh,  I want to be a gymnast and go to the Olympics." I turned to her and said, "you're probably too late, you're 10 now. Most of the girls at the Olympics start training when they are 2 or 3 years old."

This will horrify most of my readers, but it's the truth. I met so many people at university in America who still had NO IDEA what they were wanting to study. That's not possible in most other countries of the World - you enroll in your profession from day dot, and cannot change without jumping through hoops. Generally university, whether free or not, is difficult to get into and a privilege to attend.

If you disagree with what I'm saying, watch the first few weeks of any "American Idol" season, and you will witness the dropping of many parental balls. (stay with me please) Children are CONTINUOUSLY told that they can be whatever they dream. It's not true. There are factors involved, which are out of their control.

Firstly, we are given a set of God given talents. We don't decide those, and a good parent helps their child decipher between what God has given others and the talents he's given them. Secondly, we are born into a specific environment. We have to be realistic and have to teach our kids to be realistic, in terms of God-given dreams that are attainable. Thirdly, there are circumstances out-of-our control. Other people end up being the coaches, employers, trainers, mothers-in-law, etc.

We as parents mustn't put too much faith in a system that primarily stacks the cards in others' favour. We have to prepare our children for the hard knocks life will inevitably bring. It's a time of intense training, and boundaries are crucially important. Try following one of Liz's famous quotes with teens, it'll get results:  "why don't you just compromise for once and do what I say!"

Train up your children, I beg you, TRAIN THEM TO THINK! Don't just plop them into society's systems, as many do, virtually forgetting them for the next 17 years. Help them to hear the voice of God, find themselves in Him, realise their God given interests and talents, and start steering, for goodness' sake, grab the flippin' the wheel! (PS.. AND with whatever they do, MAKE THEM PRACTISE!)