25 Cents at a Time

My eye is trained to be on the lookout for coins.  I possess this skill thanks to my dad, who can spot a penny from a mile away.  When we run together he will shout the denomination as soon as he sees it.  PENNY! NICKEL!  DIME!  It's so exciting.  Over Thanksgiving Dad told a tale (apocryphal?) of a floating $20 bill found on the mean streets of Beaver Dam.  

There is a strategy to coin-finding.  Aim your peepers where car doors open.  Check cracks and crevices in the pavement.  Stoplights are a popular destination for well-worn pennies (see below).  My Thanksgiving run yielded 14 coins.  I was ecstatic. 

A penny here. A quarter there.  It all adds up.  

Even though coins are relatively small in value, what a happy surprise to find them!  I used to all but ignore pennies, but not anymore.  I imagine them as little treasures eager to be found.  I even like to pay in pennies (apologies to those behind me in line)!

Sometimes in the church we wonder if calling the sick (nickel), washing the dishes (penny), or involving persons on the margins (quarter), etc. makes a difference.  One Sunday School lesson.  One dozen cookies for the parade. One hour volunteering at the clothing closet.  One hospital visit.  One encouraging word to the lonely.  

Sometimes we may even wonder if we're just spinning our wheels.  Do these 'little' things do any good?

Rev. Fred Craddock said, "We think giving our all to the Lord is like taking a $1000 bill and laying it on the table--'Here's my life, Lord.  I'm giving it all.' But the reality for most of us is that God sends us to the bank and has us cash in the $1000 for quarters.  We go through life putting out 25 cents here and 50 cents there.  Listen to the neighbor's troubles instead of saying 'Get lost.'  Go to a committee meeting.  Give a cup of water to a shaky old man in a nursing home.  Usually giving our life to Christ isn't glorious.  It's done in all those little acts of love, 25 cents at a time.  It would be easy to go out in a flash of glory; it's harder to live the Christian life little by little…" 

A penny here.  A quarter there.  It all adds up.

Halfway there.

This morning the deacons and I are headed to a lovely church in the mountains on retreat.  Shout out to the Methodists for loaning us your building!  You have immersed us with kindness.  Polity joke FOR THE WIN.

I'll be here all week day.

Today we will read, reflect, listen, pray, consider, brainstorm, and dream for the future.  I'm eager for us to build on our strengths and grow together.

Growing means leaving the comfort zone.  Yike.  That is difficult.  It's difficult for you and it's difficult for me.  I've been thinking about my personal comfort zone, and wondered if staying there is helping Scottsville Baptist?  Probably not!  So, with the help of a coach I'm trying to sprint out of mine.

So...here goes.  Surprise to me and you:  Katie is signed up for a half marathon in November.  As of tomorrow I'm halfway finished with my training.  I'm halfway there.

It's true:  I am slow as molasses.  But HEY (say in Si's voice):  I like molasses so we good.  And I finally have something in common with Eminem:  Eight MileS.  It's a big deal.  It's a slow deal, but a big one.  I am not what the kids call an athlete.

On Friday I banged my knee on the porch door.  Way to go, Grace McKown.  I can only hope my knee will bruise like my arm when it got caught in the metro door (shout out WMATA).  THE bruise (of my life) was a brilliant display of spring colors.  Ride the metro with me now. I'm very aware of "Stand back.  The doors are now closing."  Those words are real.

I digress.

Despite the fun of a multicolor bruise on my knee, I am praying this won't mess up my training.  Apparently I really care.  I'm invested. These 10 weeks have really stretched me, lit-rally and figuratively.

I almost didn't sign up for the half because I was scared.  Scared I couldn't do it.  Scared I would fail.  Scared of what others would think if I did fail.  But luckily my coach (shout out Ken Kessler) encouraged me to flee my comfort zone.  Nearly every Sunday I beg folks to do the same...so why wasn't I willing?  Today I will do the same at the deacons' retreat.  I need to be willing.

And...conviction.

So here I am:  Halfway to the half.  I'm still scared.  I'm still worried. But I also feel LIKE A BOSS.  And, however cliche it sounds--I've realized being out of my comfort zone is great.  It's new.  It's exciting. It makes me feel really good.  Of course it's not without bruises, but it's making me better.

I might come in last place in November.  I might have to walk a mile or two.  I might curse the day my coach was born (I kid, Kessler).  But I will be there.  I will try.  I will do my best.

So church:  Even if we're nervous about leaving what's comfortable and familiar, let's step out on faith.  It might be fun.  It might be great.  It might be scary.  It might be exciting.  Of course it won't be without bruises, but in the end--it'll make us better.

See you soon.