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Pastor · Sunday Schedule · FBC
News
2002
From the Pastor
THE LONG WALK
By: Jane Kary
EDITOR'S NOTE: Jane Kary joined our church on Sunday, December 2, With humor, insight and sensitivity she shares her reflections on that day and the decision leading to it. After I read these reflections I asked Jane if I could have her permission to print them in our newsletter and I am grateful she consented. David W. Andersen
Today I joined my church. The name is First Baptist Church of Greater Toledo. I have wanted to be a part of a Christian Family for a long time, but just didn't or couldn't commit.
When I left home at 15 years of age, it was the Baptists who took me in. They found homes for my brother land I and put clothes on our backs.
I was baptized in Godfrey Baptist Church years ago while still in my late teens. I married my children's father in that church on October 26, 1963 and brought three children up in the Baptist church.
I always told my children that it was their choice as to the faith they believed in and that someday they would know when and how to make that decision.
As my life became more complicated, I strayed from the church. I was angry, I believe, because I was working so hard and "I just didn't need to spend the time" in church.
I think that if you are in the fellowship of a church, you can help to bring peace to others. When I just keep God in my heart and try to do good works, people believe it is me doing the good works. When I am in a church I can offer to bring people to enjoy the same pleasures and rewards that I have found be being a part of a fellowship.
It was a very difficult decision to join. I have been going to First Baptist about four months and I have been able to absorb the beauty of the church and people without taking on any responsibility. By joining, it meant that I had to become responsible as a family member by supporting the church and other family members within.
It also meant that I was showing the world, and especially God, that I believe in His Son, Jesus Christ. This means that my life needs to reflect those beliefs. So, although I feared the responsibility of supporting the church, I believe I feared more the responsibility of supporting my belief in God. I sure hope I don't let Him down.
Now, let's just focus on the physical and mental experience of joining the church. Dr. Andersen came to my home on Tuesday and we had a lovely chat. He explained the ritual we would go through on Sunday and left me to think about my desire to commit over the next several days. Sunday morning arrived and I prepared for church. I still had my ankle embraced with an elastic sock to give it support after my surgery.
I carefully dressed in my blue suit because I was able to wear flat shoes with it. No matter where my heart was that morning, vanity still played a role. Should I wear my flag pin or another brooch to brighten up my suit? I finally chose a pin I had purchased that resembled a Christmas bow from a package. It was gold and although it represented the season, it also added a little color to my rather drab wardrobe.
I was a bit nervous driving to church. Again, my mind was on more than God. I was hoping I would do everything "just right." I wanted to be on time as I didn't want Dr. Andersen to worry as he would be peering over the crowd to see me. If I were late he might worry that I had chickened out!
I walked in and I scanned the church looking for the appropriate seat. I usually sit near the back of the church, but that aisle looked very long today and I didn't want to have to walk to far when he called my name.
I feared that most of all. I could see myself walking up the aisle with this bright red face. Vanity, get thee behind me.
I found a secure spot about half way up the aisle. I chose the second chair, probably because I wanted to appear to be cool. If I took the aisle chair, I might appear to be insecure and give the appearance that I was in church today only to establish my faith. No, cool was better.
I scanned the bulletin, afraid that my name would appear somewhere in bold print. "JANE
KARY, the heathen for the past 20 years is hoping to make up for lost time before it is too late." What a relief when I didn't see that statement in print.
It was a wonderful service. The choir did their usual lovely job. I found my mind wondering as I looked at the people. Most of them seemed to be my age or older. I wondered how we could get some younger families in the church. I came back to reality when I realized that I wasn't even a member, and already I was laying plans to change the world.
It was near time to take my walk down the aisle. I must have read the bulletin 30 times to be sure I would be prepared when he called my name.
I had another problem during the service. Again, vanity was in my way. My heart is heavy now as is with most Americans. I am not one to cry, but since September 11, 2001, I find that tears can spring at almost anything. In fact, the tears are flowing as I write this paragraph, because it saddens me the trouble our world is in.
My daughter, Nancy, has been deployed and Merianna's husband, Marc will be deployed on January 2, 2002. As I bowed my head to pray, my heart became overwhelmed with the grief I feel for so many people who are struggling to survive and I found it hard to talk to God in a public place without shedding a tear.
As I said, I guess vanity took over, because I did not want people to see me cry in church. Isn't it sad that we feel we must keep these emotions to ourselves. So, I asked God to forgive me for not praying with my heart because I did not want to cry. I hope he could still read my heart and answered my prayer to take care of all the people in pain that day and to take care of my babies.
The time finally arrived. I heard Dr. Andersen tell the congregation that I, Jane
Kary, had asked to join this church.
I found myself walking up the aisle. I was thinking as I walked, that I had waited so many years to do this because I had wanted someone else to take on the responsibility and walk with me or do it for me. Believing in God, for me, just wasn't met to be that way. It was Him and me. What a wonderful walk.
As I stood next to Dr. Andersen, he told the congregation that he had visited my home and that he had enjoyed the tour I had given him. I was standing there, feeling like an idiot trying to decide whether I should look directly at him or turn and face the crowd so they could see what they were getting. I vaguely remember looking at the congregation, trying to smile and hoping they would accept me instead of judging me.
At last, (and I do mean forever is a long, long time) Dr. Andersen told me to take a seat. But before doing that, I was directed to sign in at a large membership book. I walked toward the book and looked at it's frayed edges and browned pages. What stories this book could tell. What an honor it was, I thought to be allowed to add my name to this beautiful history.
I couldn't even do that without scolding myself. I found myself writing uphill. I suddenly realized I was nearly writing over the name of the member who joined before me.
They say writing uphill is a sign of a positive person, but how positive would that person feel if I covered their name?
As awesome as the book was, I nearly giggled when the lady handed me the pen to write my name. Here we had this grand ceremony and I was signing in with a BIC pen. Now, that's a reality check.
I sat down in the first pew and remembered that Dr. Andersen had told me that he and Pastor Hendrix would serve me communion. This brought on another panic attack. What if one of the people serving communion walked over to me and offered to serve me? Should I say, "No, thanks?" That seemed pretty ungrateful both to the person and God. What to do, what to do!
Instead, I looked down at my bulletin as though I were deep in thought. I had read that bulletin so many times this morning, I am surprised there was any print left on the page.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the servers shoes walk past me. Another crisis passes! Wonderful.
Pastor Hendrix offered me the Body of Christ and fortunately I was able to get my mind where it belonged. I looked at the tiny square of bread in my hand and realized how fortunate I was. God has been so good to me and I felt joy in my heart as I shared in this experience.
Next, Dr. Andersen served me wine representing the Blood of Christ. I found myself at peace fully appreciating the moment and all that it meant to me. It was a wonderful moment of peace and love.
As I watched the people sitting around the communion table in the front of the church, I wondered if I would ever be sitting there. Then I felt that I was not worthy of thinking this thought. These people had stayed the course while I had allowed myself to stray. I had a long way to go!
It was interesting how pride stepped in my way. When Pastor Hendrix and Dr. Andersen were serving me communion, I thought, "You had better enjoy this moment because next time you will be with the rank and file." So I did bask in the glory of the moment.
Soon the service was over and we were to sing one verse of "Blest Be The Tie That Binds." Again, I was confused.
By the way, just a little side note. When Dr. Andersen served the wine, I thought I was going to turn over the entire tray trying to pull my cup off. This was fancy stuff. In the old days, before I turned heathen, we used to take little glass cups out of a round tray. As they were passed down the aisle, they wiggled and giggled and you could always tell where the tray was because of the noise. Not these babies! They were in there tight and I think God was putting a little more force on my cup saying, "Jane, if you want this, you are going to have to work for it!"
Dr. Andersen obviously had worked with klutz like me before because he steadied the tray as I worked for my salvation which I know comes from God. The cup released into my hand.
Anyway, back to the Hand of Friendship. I wasn't sure what was going on, because in the olden days we didn't do this. The lady with the membership book took my hand and I thought she wanted me to follow her. I had set my communion cup on the floor and felt that I shouldn't leave it there. The least I could do was to pick it up so I did. Suddenly I heard someone whispering for me to take the hand of the young boy next to me. Now, I am really confused. How in the world was I going to hang on to this communion cup and hold this boys hand. After all, the cup should be treated with some reverence, shouldn't it? Suddenly, a nice lady said, "let me have your cup." Before I knew it, this efficient person had made the cup disappear into a holder.
All I could think was that I hoped the entire church wasn't waiting for me to figure out what to do. Well, Jane you do have a long way to go.
The service was over and people were so kind to greet me. They were warm and sincere and I really did feel welcomed into their family.
They had a reception after the service. (No, it wasn't for me, you silly person. It was for Dr. and Mrs. Andersen). I was disappointed that I couldn't stay, but had committed to H&R Block that afternoon – and that's another story.
Jane Kary
            
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