I am not asking this in a theological sense. Our Presbyterian friends across the street might refer to the Westminster Shorter Catechism and say, “Question: What is the chief end of man? Answer: Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.” An excellent answer, and one that I thoroughly believe. Instead, in this little article, I want to write about why I am HERE in Shelby at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church.
At my age, nearly 80 years old, I have knocked around a lot, both geographically and ecclesiastically. About six and a half years ago, after a particularly nasty encounter, I was counting myself as Christian but unchurched, and Daniel Orr called me up. He simply asked, “Are you OK?” He wasn’t trying to recruit me or anything like that—he simply wanted to know if I was surviving and if he could do anything to help. That personal touch really meant a lot, so I decided to give St. Mark’s a try.
In a way, it is not a natural arrangement. I live about fifteen miles away, and to get to St. Mark’s I drive by a dozen other churches. Literally (I counted). When I first got to St. Mark’s, the group was quite small, and it seemed everyone knew everyone else. My connection with the town of Shelby is not that strong: for a couple of years I taught at the NCSC campus on the edge of town, but that was primarily a matter of driving in, teaching a course, and driving out again. I was very much an outsider.
The people at St. Mark’s didn’t seem to notice that I was an outsider, though. Very soon, they seemed to think I was part of the crowd. To this day, if I miss a couple of Sundays in a row, someone will contact me and ask if I am OK. Along with that, two other things caught my attention.
The first thing that caught my attention was the amount of Bible study. It’s just generally assumed that we will have an intense class after morning worship (though we do take a summer vacation). Not every church does that. And it’s OK to disagree with the teacher.
A second thing was money. I have been near enough small congregations to know that they are always worried (and often struggling) about money. Several years back, a local man named Champion died and quite unexpectedly left a large bequest to St. Mark’s. Most small churches would have immediately used the windfall to fix the roof or get new cushions for the pews or something, but not this gang. They took the attitude that the money wasn’t really theirs, so the plan was to give it away—all of it. Thus, the Champion Fund giving college scholarships and quietly writing checks for local concerns such as a ministry to recovering addicts. That was incredible.
Sometimes the arrangement has been uncomfortable (I think you feel that with every church from time to time), and there are days when driving 30 minutes to church and another 30 home really seems like a lot, but this is my basic answer to the question “Why are you here?”
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