Ayden United Methodist Church

Loving God - Serving Others - Building Christian Community

by

The Nonprofit

Occasionally, as I go visiting elderly people or elderly homes, I notice an item on the kitchen wall. It’s round and gold, and has a button-like thing in the middle. It has no apparent purpose to the casual observer, but for me it evokes memories of stressful times past.

The item is a fire alarm, more specifically, a heat detector. They last nearly forever, and they’re spring loaded (no batteries). It just sits there quietly until the room gets so obviously warm that a fire has to be happening. Then that button thing (a fuse) pops and the alarm will ring for about fifteen minutes, and I do mean ring! Man! that thing is loud. Even if you might be dead already, the alarm will wake you. How do I know of this? I used to sell them door to door.

Yes. I was the guy who showed up with the “Sparky the Fire Dog” toy you hoped to win at the fair when you signed the card at the display. Along with me came a set of sparkling new fire alarms, which hopefully you would want to hear about that evening. They weren’t cheap. I know. I bought a set before I ever thought about selling them. I’ve still got them too. Unfortunately for me, I was just getting into the business when cheap smoke detectors were coming into vogue. They may not have been as durable or reliable, but they generally worked and for a lot less.

I was kind of like the Buggy Whip salesman who just opened shop when Henry Ford started his production line on the Model T. Nothing wrong with the product, just a little out of date. That was my first experience in running a nonprofit organization. It wasn’t supposed to be, but I was way ahead of the “Dot Com’s”.

Since then, I’ve changed product lines. The demand varies, but there is always a market. The product has been beating the competition for centuries and it never becomes obsolete. One of our most notable sales reps, John Wesley, told his new North American Branch Manager, Francis Asbury, “Offer them Christ.” He did, and that’s what I do. I know there is a lot of fancy advertising that goes into the product, but the most solid sales are still done “door to door”, in person, by friends who recommend the same product.

What I like best about this product is that you have to have accepted it yourself before you can offer it to anyone else. That keeps the truth in advertising issue covered. In fact, one cannot actually keep the product unless one offers it to someone else. Are you with me on this? I hope so. There are an awful lot of potential customers out there, and they don’t know what they’re missing. Say, you wouldn’t be one of them, would you?

Rev. Dennis P. Levin

by

Ma Fishes

Last summer we installed a garden pond at our house. Actually, there are two ponds, one above the other with a waterfall between them. We have attempted to put fish in these ponds with varying degrees of success. Some have not adjusted to their new home, others were evicted by local felines. None-the-less, we have managed to keep some and enjoy watching them immensely.

Naming fish is not easy. They have personalities, and they vary by color, type and size. But who knows a fish’s gender? It’s only around breeding time that you have any idea. One of the goldfish seems to be adding weight that the others aren’t, so I’ve named her Ma Fishes. There are two Black Moores in the upper pond, but since the pond is black, one rarely sees both at the same time. I’ve named one Moore and the other Les. So if you see one, you see one, Moore or Les.

Then there is Buff. Buff is like a Black Moore, only not black. He’s got the same short, fat body, the same wispy tail, the same bulgy eyes, the same graceless waddle swim. But he’s not black, he’s buff. So I called him Buff, which is also the acronym aircrews have for the B 52 bomber “Big Ugly Fat Fellow”.

Each fish is unique and has its own personality, like us, they are not alike. Yet if they are going to survive, they have to survive together. So I try to pick fish that tolerate each other well. Apparently, God is not so selective when it comes to us. We also come in varieties of shape, size, color, not to mention gender. Our pond is the world, which one would think adequate for all. Yet we are a long way from being content with each other. We fight when it is unnecessary. We hoard when there is ample supply. We exclude in order to expand our own opportunities. Most of the problems people face in the modern world we created ourselves. While this is not an easy place to survive, and we must engage in certain aspects of these activities, are we condemned to be defined by them?

Jesus advised that we should seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things would be added to us.

“Not in this pond!”
one might respond.

“God must not know big fish are fond
of eating little ones, and also that’s
not even counting all those cats.”

Actually, God knows precisely how it works down here. He installed the pond and made the all the fish. His plan is that none should perish, but that all should be saved. That will require us to challenge our instincts, and sometimes common sense. It means bearing things that are not our burdens and suffering when we don’t deserve it. It means that whenever possible, we salvage what is worthless. It means making judgements from the standpoint of the salvaged, which is who we are.

Fish never learn, I don’t think they are supposed to. So I’ll not be putting a catfish in the pond. But God expects us to learn, not in spite of our differences, but because of them. We better learn fast. The pond isn’t getting any bigger.

Rev. Dennis P. Levin

by

A Lament on 911

Great are you, o Lord.
Your glory soars to the heavens
and the works of your hands
are manifest in all the earth.

You see the trajectory of the stars
yet the wanderings of the ant are known to you.
You observe the ways of mankind from of old
and discern our future course.

You saw the evil that came suddenly upon us,
and knew of it when it was conceived in the heart.
Yet we were blind to it
and were not warned.

Was it a blindness you bestowed?
Can we say it was a punishment for sins past?
Are the people brought to dust
for the indifference of a nation?

Our enemies gloat
and dance in the streets.
While our rescuers search in vain
and wear the ashes of mourning.

In the depths of our sorrow
we seek your face.
For the comfort of knowing that you still are God;
that those who are lost, you have found.

As one who digs through rubble for the loved and lost,
Pick through the debris of our lives
for the still beating heart that once was yours.
Rescue us, and restore us to life.

In the midst of our wrath, we turn.
Are you behind us to strengthen our resolve?
With the face of war we look forward.
Are you before us to guide our ways.

The Captain of the Lord’s Host confronts us.
As Joshua we ask, “Are you one of us or of our enemies?”
But you do not come as one of us,
Nor are you of the enemy camp.

If we are not good, can we vanquish evil?
If we are not fair, can we execute justice?
To crush the foe in battle is easier
than to destroy that which makes him an enemy.

Though the hosts of evil may die in the thousands,
Evil gloats through the smoke of their ruin.
For it cannot be pierced by weapons,
and its own slain are its prize.

Let us not be deceived by our success in battle.
Hearts are harder to conquer than lands.
But the heart of the enemy is our true objective,
unless it is turned, there will be no peace.

Lead us, o God,
and we will follow.
Bring destruction to tyrants
and an end to their evil ways.

Let the cruel tremble before your wrath,
But let their people shout for joy at your appearing.
Help us to set at liberty those who seek to live in peace
That we may all dwell in safety.

Temper our indignation
That we may not be as those we hunt.
Lest having won the war
Our souls are lost.

by

Revenge

Dr. Babcock! Yes, the very same person I mentioned in one of my sermons in August (and I don’t often mention persons in my sermons). Dr. Babcock, the Biology professor at Eastern Nazarene College. I had no love for Dr. Babcock. (Oh, my brother Ed liked him, but he was a biology major. So what would you expect?) Dr. Babcock saw it as his mission in life to “weed out” the biologically challenged from his course. By the time I got done with Biology 101, I thought he would have placed a handicapped parking sign on my desk. I did not so much pass Biology 101 as escaped it. My feelings were shared by the majority of students whose GPA’s went south in biology.

Eastern Nazarene College is a small campus in Quincy, Massachusetts. There are not many students, and staff are so rare as to be considered endangered species. If a professor could do more than one thing, he or she was hired. So it was that Dr. Babcock, intimately acquainted with flora and fauna of all varieties, was put in charge of landscaping for the campus. He did a marvelous job, and took great pride in his efforts. So much so that both students and faculty feared for their safety if they tread upon, plucked, looked sideways at or demeaned his flowers in any way. But there were limits.

One Saturday morning during exam week, Dr. Babcock took it upon himself to landscape beside the mens’ dormitory. Generally that would be a good thing, except that he chose 6:00 a.m. to commence, and whatever it was he commenced required a large chain saw. Those of us who protested from above noticed an evil smile on his face as he ignored our entreaties. He had it all figured out. Most of us would be gone in a week, and he himself would soon leave for field expeditions in the Adirondacks. But he was not as clever as he thought.

Woody Badoud and I would remain on campus for the summer. We were life-long friends, and we knew mischief long before the administrators at Eastern Nazarene College realized they had made a terrible mistake enrolling us together. We had already taken Biology 101, were upper-classmen, and we would repay Dr. Babcock.

As planned, Dr. Babcock left for the Adirondacks. And as planned, Woody and I sneaked out one night to invade his flower beds. As we went, we planted sunflower seeds among the bulbs and seedlings. Then, as the well ordered gardens began to bloom with spectacular precision and symmetry, sunflowers would appear all gangly and conspicuous. The administration thought that Dr. Babcock had lost his mind, but no one dared to touch his gardens. When he returned at the end of summer, large yellow disks rose above his rhododendrons and leered at him. He knew he’d been had, and to his credit, he laughed.

I understand Jesus’ parable of the wheat and the tares. After all, I was the enemy sowing the stuff. We all want to be the farmer’s field hands and act abhorred at someone else’s mischief. But tares aren’t just sown by enemies. We can snag weed seeds on the way to the fields and carelessly shake them off as we work. Or we can point out weeds that others have sown to divert attention from our own. But weeds are weeds, even if they’re flowers. Once the stuff starts to grow, there’s no hiding it.

Dr. Babcock never did find out who sabotaged his gardens, but God knows. God also knows how to keep the good stuff and get rid of the bad. So while you’re out in the Master’s field, make sure what you sow is certified. Because if you plant it, it will grow.

Rev. Dennis P. Levin

Email list