They won't fit in
I read this in the greatest collection of sermons I've read. The Collected Sermons of Fred Craddock.
"I'm borrowing the phrase "don't fit in" from my first student church. It was up in East Tennessee. I worked there in the summers as a seminarian and it was about twenty miles from Oak Ridge. Oak Ridge had gotten into place. The atomic energy thing was booming and folk were coming and constructing that little town into a city. Folk were coming from everywhere. Hard-hat types, in tents and trailers and little temporary huts and all kinds of leantos. They covered those beautiful hills with temporary quarters, wash hanging out on the fences and little kids crying through the muddy places where all these things were parked.
My little church, an aristocratic little church, white frame building, beautiful little church was near by. It was a nice church, wonderful people. I called the board together and said, "We need to reach out to those folk who are here. They just come in from everywhere and they're fairly close. Here's our mission." The chairman of the board said, "Oh I don't think so." I said, "Why?" He said, "They won't fit in. After all, they're just here temporarily, living in those trailers and all." "Well, they may be here temporarily but they need the gospel, they need a church, now why..." "No, I don't think so."
The board meeting lasted a long time. Called the next meeting for the next Sunday night. The upshot of it all was resolution. The resolution was offered by one of the relatives of the chairman of the board and the resolution basically was this: "Members will be admitted to this church from families who own property in the county." It was unanimous except for my vote and I was reminded I couldn't vote. "They won't fit in; they won't fit in."
Since we've been back at Chandler I wanted to take Nettie, my wife, up to see the scene of my early failures. Had a hard time finding the church because Interstate 40 through there and all that now but I finally found the road, the county road, and back nestled in the pines, still there, shining white, just beautiful. Just like it was except now cars and trucks were parked everywhere, just everywhere, cars and trucks. And a big sign out front: "Barbecue, All you can eat, chicken, ribs, pork."
I said, "Well, we might as well go in for lunch." Went inside, they still had those beautiful oil lamps hanging on the wall, beautiful oil lamps, still had that old pump organ, one of the kids always had to stand there and pump it while it was being played in the service. Beautiful, now it's decoration.
The pews which had been cut from a single poplar tree were around the walls and people waiting to get seated at a table; there were a lot of those aluminum legged plastic tables.
And the place was full of all kinds of people."
"I'm borrowing the phrase "don't fit in" from my first student church. It was up in East Tennessee. I worked there in the summers as a seminarian and it was about twenty miles from Oak Ridge. Oak Ridge had gotten into place. The atomic energy thing was booming and folk were coming and constructing that little town into a city. Folk were coming from everywhere. Hard-hat types, in tents and trailers and little temporary huts and all kinds of leantos. They covered those beautiful hills with temporary quarters, wash hanging out on the fences and little kids crying through the muddy places where all these things were parked.
My little church, an aristocratic little church, white frame building, beautiful little church was near by. It was a nice church, wonderful people. I called the board together and said, "We need to reach out to those folk who are here. They just come in from everywhere and they're fairly close. Here's our mission." The chairman of the board said, "Oh I don't think so." I said, "Why?" He said, "They won't fit in. After all, they're just here temporarily, living in those trailers and all." "Well, they may be here temporarily but they need the gospel, they need a church, now why..." "No, I don't think so."
The board meeting lasted a long time. Called the next meeting for the next Sunday night. The upshot of it all was resolution. The resolution was offered by one of the relatives of the chairman of the board and the resolution basically was this: "Members will be admitted to this church from families who own property in the county." It was unanimous except for my vote and I was reminded I couldn't vote. "They won't fit in; they won't fit in."
Since we've been back at Chandler I wanted to take Nettie, my wife, up to see the scene of my early failures. Had a hard time finding the church because Interstate 40 through there and all that now but I finally found the road, the county road, and back nestled in the pines, still there, shining white, just beautiful. Just like it was except now cars and trucks were parked everywhere, just everywhere, cars and trucks. And a big sign out front: "Barbecue, All you can eat, chicken, ribs, pork."
I said, "Well, we might as well go in for lunch." Went inside, they still had those beautiful oil lamps hanging on the wall, beautiful oil lamps, still had that old pump organ, one of the kids always had to stand there and pump it while it was being played in the service. Beautiful, now it's decoration.
The pews which had been cut from a single poplar tree were around the walls and people waiting to get seated at a table; there were a lot of those aluminum legged plastic tables.
And the place was full of all kinds of people."
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