May Overgard Satterthwaite

May Overgard Satterthwaite. Born in March of 1923, you were the second of five, but born the third. 150% Scandinavian, they called your clan “square heads” and you were proud of it. You said it meant “honest” and that you were. We never were 100% sure about Dad’s family, some kind of English – mutt mix that forced “Satterthwaite” on us all. But we know where you came from: Christian Anderson Overgaard married Liv Dahl to bring the best of Denmark and Norway to America. Like gjetost cheese. Krumkage Christmas cookies. But especially, you.

They didn’t name you for your birth month – though it would have been appropriate considering how fast you crossed streets – a good New York girl knows how to look out for herself in heavy traffic. Delaware must have seemed slow and easy by comparison – except for the fact that those first years of marriage were nothing like “easy”: nearly lost your man to pneumonia, meanwhile you were working, teaching Sunday school, and leading the choir – all part of starting the Minquidale Assembly of God over there on the other side of the tracks. And God got you through it! You were the one for Dad. You supplied the “grit”, and he supplied the “grits”. He was your man from the Old South. A young preacher boy couldn’t have asked for a better wife: adoring, faithful, always attentive. Didn’t hurt that you played piano and sang alto.

We loved looking at those square black and white snap shots: your best photos have you glancing his way, radiant. Somehow, you convinced Dad to leave off scrapple for Scrabble; well, mostly. Is there a seven letter word in the dictionary that you don’t know? Who cares what the definition is? It’s a “bingo”!

Your house was clean! Clean? Did we say just “clean”??? Sorry! Spick and Span. Neat as a pin. Immaculate. Hypo-alergenically sterilized. Think of the money Dad would have saved if he had just bought a 55 gallon drum of “Lestoil” concentrate before you started in. No tiny corner un-scrubbed, no dribble un-wiped, every smear eliminated. You boiled, disinfected, steamed: no germ had a chance at your house. Your domicile was like your accountant’s ledger sheets. The decimal points are aligned and the books balance to the penny. Nothing out of place, and no small knick knacks: they just get sucked up the vacuum cleaner tube anyway. Yours was a Nordic way of living: no frills, but with elegant simplicity that takes some work and skill to achieve.

Christmas, we must admit, was a problem. You asked for very little for yourself, and always “practical”. Good thing we had Aunt Elsa to help us make cool stuff for you, like the little Christmas tree of sewing thread. You seemed thrilled! I guess we’ll never know if you would have preferred the yellow dump truck Rick had picked out for you.

Sorry we never took the hint about learning violin. All those violin albums you loved – and we ended up playing clarinet and piano and the saxophone. But you sure made music a part of us and now it is one of our biggest pleasures, and our children’s. Was music a Danish invention, too?

You sure had a soft spot for babies: seventeen foster children and wishing you could have kept the most of them. It was your voice pronouncing the words, but it was Jesus in you saying, “Let the little children come to me!” Come they did.

You willingly gave up easy access to your own children and grandchildren for the cause of the Kingdom. Mexico, Wisconsin and Spain were far away for a home body like you. Now we understand even better your daily prayers for us – thank you for them!!! – we missed being physically close by, but during all those years we were truly closer than we realized.

Now you’re with your Lord, with Dad, and a lot of square heads, no doubt.

And no need to clean up! Enjoy!

Going, going...

Matthew 28: 18-20

Introduction

I only get to speak to most of you, face to face at least, about once every three years. It kind of reminds me of a monastery in southern Spain where they have taken a vow of silence. Once every three years the monks are allowed to appear before the Monsignor and even then, they are allowed only two words. After his first three years dedicated to prayer, Bible reading and silent meditation, Brother Joaquin finally has his moment. “Do you have anything you would like to say, brother?” said his superior. “Hard bed” was his answer. After three more years, another chance was spent with “Bad food”. It was three years before he could opine, “Cold floors”. And then, most recently, he grunted, “I quit”. “It doesn’t surprise me in the least, ” answered the churchman, “since you’ve come here you’ve done nothing but complain”.

I’m not here to complain, but I am under that pressure to spend my “two words” carefully on our triennial visit. And I am a missionary in Spain… so I think you know what to expect, “he’s speaking on the Great Commission” (you’re right!) – Jesus’ last great marching orders to “Go and win the world”!! What do you expect? This theme occupies Twinky and me in one way or another every day. If you had invited a fireman to speak perhaps he would be talking about everybody having smoke alarms, which he would no doubt tie in to a hair-raising sermon on hell… if you invite a youth ministry gal she would be convincing you of the import of influencing our youth for Christ… but I am none of these. I am a missionary in Spain. We are working in one of the more Gospel-resistant modern cultures on the planet. So you’re stuck: it’s Matthew 28:18-20 again. But wait!

I would like to discuss with you, in fact, only one word of the Matthew 28:18-20 text. What word do you suppose that is? Judging by the two or three churches I have spoken to on this theme, I know you have probably guessed… “GO”. Right! And I would like to say basically one thing about that word. This is a one-point sermon on one word. If you’re taking notes it should all fit on a 3 x 5 card, and still leave good room for doodling and a small shopping list on the back.
I have heard a good number of sermons on missionary work. I have been pressured, cornered, brow beaten, fooled and cajoled. Encouraged, too. And one of my personal challenges even now is to serve the Lord from love and not out of guilt. So much of that guilt is based on the feeling of so many of us that we haven’t done enough, that somehow we haven’t really “gone” with the Gospel where should have gone. No doubt you are already bracing yourself to graciously receive what I am about to say. I thank you for that. You are very kind, but it won’t be necessary.

Perhaps you really like where you live and you are well tied in to the community. Your kids are in a good scout program. The schools are good. You enjoy your job. Your spouse is from the area and you have family near. And now here comes this missionary and he’s going to try to convince you to go to Botswana. And if he builds up the guilt enough and you are able to resist, no doubt he will offer a bit of a relief if you throw in a few bucks and pay HIM to go! And you will think you got a good deal.

No I am not here to say any of this. I’m not going to try to convince you to pull up stakes and live in a dung hut ministering to the Masai tribe while swatting flies. I’m not going to try to make you feel guilty about mowing your lawn or enjoying life right where you live. I think you will be encouraged, but still challenged by what I believe is the real relationship of the word “go” and Jesus’ command in the Great Commission.

For preachers, “go” really is a great word. It preaches well. It’s only two letters and has a sound not unlike “bang”. Just say the word and you’ve got people jumping. It’s a simple idea that does not need much explaining. Who doesn’t know how to go?? If you’re in a car, well, you just push that right pedal “to the metal”. If you are in class and someone yells, “go” you don’t think twice… you’re out the door in a second. Great, no homework today! “Go” is chock full of action, you can feel the wind in your face and the salt spray… kind of like that scene in Titanic with the couple in the bow of the ship. All right, so the Titanic sank. But the image of the couple moving ahead through the waves is inspiring! Flags are waving and we are finally getting somewhere! And boy does the word “go” make us missionaries look good. Hey, we’ve gone. We’ve out there getting it done. We’re eating worms for the Lord. Makes us look good and feel good about ourselves. We’re the “A-Team” of Christian ministry. Or… are we????

“Go” sure adds mystique to mission. It conjures up in our mind the sound of strange languages, dress, unknown dangers, and weird foods, “going where no Christian has gone to preach the Gospel”.

“Go” is a great motivating word. There is just one problem with this use of that word in Jesus’ command in Matthew 28. It’s wrong.

The command in the Great Commission is not “go”. The command, as you may well know, is “make disciples”. Sadly for some, “make disciples” does not preach so well as “go”. Hey, “make disciples” doesn’t even sound interesting, at first listen. No motivating sound goes off in our head. No “pop”, “bash”, or “pow”. No visions of exotic jungle birds or Spanish señoritas looking over their fans at a bullfight. In fact, if “make disciples” paints any picture at all for you, it may well be early morning Bible studies, thick notebooks with a lot of verses to look up and blanks to fill in, or a Sunday School class for Christian illiterates who aren’t allowed access to the good stuff until they swallow the “discipleship core program” pill. Or, perhaps for you discipleship is a kind of Christian “Eagle Scout”: for the few, the motivated. Sounds complicated, difficult and we suspect boring.

In fact, making disciples is the great adventure of Christian apprenticeship. It is a passing on of knowing Christ and serving him. It is based on relationships and as such is not a program or to-do list. But I am not talking today about making disciples. What I want to answer is this: “What does go have to do with making disciples?”

It’s “going”.

The verb “to go” in the text has the same form as two other verbs in the same context: “to baptize” and “to teach”. These two verbs are translated in many versions “baptizing” and “teaching” and help define key elements of making disciples. You make disciples baptizing and teaching.

It would appear that in order to remove any hint of command implied by the form of the Greek verb “to go”, it would be better to simply translate the word “going”. Why, then, do the NIV and KJV translators leave it “go”? It may be for reasons of context that they have left it “go”, thinking that in fact Jesus had it in mind for them to go somewhere. But that may well be “reading into the text”. There is often pressure to not touch traditional translations of texts so as not to raise suspicion or rock the boat or to upset Christians. And it may appear to translators that leaving the verb as “go” does not force readers to understand it as a direct command. All of us use this form of “go” when we tell our child, for example, “go and clean your room”. The real command is to clean the room, and it just so happens that we are standing in the kitchen, so the going becomes part of carrying out the command. But it is not the critical part of the command, and had we been standing in the child’s room we could have simply said, “you’ve got to clean this mess!” Or, the “go” could simply mean, “get moving and clean your room”.

Let’s run with this idea, then, and see where it takes us. A most simple translation of the Great Commission would then be: “Going, make disciples, baptizing and teaching”. Or perhaps you could say, “As you go, make disciples…” or “On your way, make disciples”. Loosening our belt we might even say, “While you’re at it, make disciples…” or “As long as you’re there, make disciples…” or “Since you’re going that way anyway, make disciples…” To a Brit, the Lord might say “Carry on there chap, and be sure to make disciples. Right.” Or if we were paraphrasing a “super Living Bible” we might say, “Hey, I heard you’ve been transferred to Chicago… while you’re there make some windy city followers of Christ…” or “Congratulations on the birth of Katie! Now that you have a daughter, job number one is to make her into a disciple of the Lord Jesus…” God has put you there, given you that daughter, given you that job, put you in that circumstance and that is precisely where he wants you to make disciples.

So here is my one and only point on the word “go”: God wants us to go about life and make disciples where we find ourselves. He will direct us to live and act in many different ways. Sometimes a catastrophe or what seems to be a random circumstance will force us to take a certain job or move to a certain place. God directs our lives that way, sometimes. It is very likely you are right where God wants you in many respects. So… get on with it and make disciples right there where you are!

Three large errors.

There are three gross misconceptions that many well-meaning Christians have entertained for much too long when they mistakenly make “go” the command.

“I’ve got to go somewhere to evangelize/disciple/minister.”

So many of us think, “I’ve got to change location, go on a trip, get off my normal life path” in order to really do God’s work, to reach souls for Christ, to make disciples. For example, go to a prison, preach or sing at a breakfast mission downtown, go to Haiti with the youth group, build a church building in Mexico. “That’s REAL ministry”, we say.

In a more general way we are often trying to put ourselves in a superior role, we look for people who are sloppier, poorer, more needy or in some way do not have their act together in an area where I do have my act together; I go to them and I preach the Gospel. Don’t get me wrong. God in fact does call individuals to change location in order to share the Gospel with someone who otherwise might not hear. He also calls all of us to minister to widows, orphans and prisoners. There are people who are called to go downtown and speak to the guys who live in the street.

But God’s overall command to all believers to share the Gospel does not have any “go” component that requires all of us to change location. Jesus made it clear with a parable. Who are we to minister to? Our neighbor. And who is our neighbor? The Good Samaritan was already on a business trip, let’s say. He was going along his way and turned the corner to see a man beaten nearly to death. He did not have to do much more than stop and help this man. He didn’t even have to cross the street. It was the man who didn’t want to help that crossed the street to avoid the bad scene. This is the general “rule of thumb”: as you go you will find the people that God wants you to disciple.

A second error may be making us feel way too good about what we are calling ministry:
“If I’ve gone somewhere, if I have somehow gone out of my way, I’ve done what God wants, I’ve made disciples.”

Evangelistic “activism” may assuage our conscience but it is not usually effective. We can pack up the youth group and ship them to inner-city Philadelphia to hand out tracts on AB Street, and they may feel really good about that… but this kind of activity may not contribute in any way to making disciples. And, my, do we celebrate these kinds of activities like they are the absolute ideal of fulfilling the Great Commission! We make a big deal of the “Tibet Outreach” simply because it is Tibet. It is so far away it just has to be ministry. It just has to count for the Gospel. This is a pretty stupid conclusion, don’t you think?

“Displacement Ministries” (Apostolic Ministries, if you will) have their place, but they should not be the “meat and potatoes” of evangelism / discipleship. Also, cross-cultural ministry opportunities sometimes help us better understand our own culture. And coworkers for the Gospel who are working in difficult situations can often use help. Twinky and I certainly have greatly benefited from helpers from France and the US with our work in Spain. They have come to pray for us, they have tried to generate interest in Bible reading among students, they have helped our small church in Zaragoza feel like a part of the bigger picture of the body of Christ that is worldwide in extent. Great! But, we must not allow ourselves to feel too good about making trips or spending a lot of energy to go to the end of the earth when we don’t even know the neighbor’s kids names. Often the only thing our neighbor knows of our Christian faith is that we fly out the door Sunday mornings in a tizzy and come back after a few hours a little more rumpled and looking rather hungry.

Making trips is one thing. Making disciples is something else. At times they are related, but not always. But the biggest and saddest error that comes from thinking that “go” is the main command in the Great Commission is simply not paying attention to the opportunities that touch us every day in the course of our lives.

Because we have defined discipleship /evangelism as some special activity we go somewhere to do…

...we miss the opportunity to disciple all the people we see in the normal course of our life – as we go – our peers, people like us, people we already know and understand in part because they are doing what we are doing.

You must see that God has put you where you are. You are not walking a random path. None of your current circumstances are in any way related to luck. You are “on mission” and the Lord is asking you to keep your antenna up. Be alert for opportunities right where you are to bring Christ to those you naturally are meeting every day.

A key to “going” is that you must see yourself free to move about in the community and not just in the church. This is your mission!! And it can be a lot of fun! Yes, you can do fun stuff, things you like to do in the company of potential disciples. You like to sing? OK, OK, you can sing in the church choir. But why not sing in the community choir? While “go” is not a command there is the assumption that you are moving about, going, meeting people, living and working somehow in your culture. The Lord in no way commanded us to walk about the earth in a hermetic suit. We are here to engage. And can I add that you may find people mostly open to talking and getting to know you, and through you coming to know your Lord, if they are having fun. I spoke to this issue a few years ago in a sermon called, “Why did Jesus go to parties?” I tried to show that Jesus hung around with people from all backgrounds, ate long dinners, and had fun in the company of non-believers precisely because that was his mission, to be with “sinners”. He moved about in his culture, went to wedding parties where he no doubt danced with the bride and helped supply the wine in a pinch (a wine without peer in the history of wine), hung out with tax collectors, let a prostitute wash his feet with her tears, messed with the kids, touched the infectiously sick (which healed them of course). He was so unreligious, so down-to-earth, that even John the Baptist was scandalized and began to doubt that Jesus was the One. This is the kind of “going” that should inspire us to live well right where we are.

You may have noticed in verse 19 that we are to make disciples “of all nations” and again it could be tempting to link that phrase with “go” and repurchase your ticket to Tanzania. I believe, though, that Jesus is simply saying, that wherever we go we should not limit our sharing, we engage with whomever is willing to listen, whomever you meet, from any culture.
Imagine yourself as a first century Christian living in Jerusalem. You are Jewish of course. Your city is being attacked – it is 70 A.D. and soon all your Jewish friends and family are fleeing for their lives, Christians and not. So, after some months of arduous travel you and your family find yourselves in… Spain, for example. You’ve escaped with the clothes on your back. As a believer committed to obeying Christ, you begin to see a new dimension to the Great Commission. Perhaps you even see that this cruel attack by Rome on Jerusalem is serving a purpose for the spread of the Gospel. You read, “As you go, (wherever you go!) make disciples of all nations.” So, here you are in Spain your new home and you are to make disciples of not just Jews like yourself, but with whoever is in your natural path.

Now, how will you respond to Jesus’ last great command?

Going… as you go… on your way… while you’re at it… as long a you’re there… since you’re going that way anyway… (and God has put you there!)… make disciples of all nations.

Why did Jesus go to parties?

"Why did Jesus go to parties?” is a bit of an odd question, but one worth looking into. I have had to answer it for myself and the answer I have found is slowly changing me. It is not a silly question, although it has taken me about twenty years to figure that out. This is because I don’t naturally gravitate to parties. I avoid them. They’re messy, even if I’m not in charge of clean up. Usually I have to meet a lot of new people and I never know what is going to happen. These kinds of events are a bit out of control. Especially Spanish parties! I suppose for most people this is a large part of the fun, but not for me.

Jesus was an odd case. For a guy who said he was, in fact, God stuffed into a human body, he wasn’t very religious. For example, what in the world was he doing going to all those parties? Parties!? Perhaps you haven’t noticed just how much of a man about town he was, but the religious leaders of Jesus’ time sure did. They accused him of being a party animal, a bar hopper! In Matthew 11:

16 "But to what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the market places, who call out to the other children,
17 and say, 'We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.'
18 "For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, 'He has a demon!'
19 "The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Behold, a gluttonous man and a drunkard, a friend of tax-gatherers and sinners!' Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds."
The New American Standard Version, ©1986 The Lockman Foundation

Jesus was contrasting the reaction of the ruling Jewish class, a very religious lot, to John the Baptist and to himself. They found very different reasons to reject both. John was clearly of the “prophet style” of ministry and they rejected his stern warnings: “we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.” John was the kind of voice from God that Jews should have expected: he was a very typical prophet, solitary, and a little bizarre. He wore strange clothes, hairstyle, cologne… and His message was accompanied by a full voice, a raised arm, and a long pointing finger:

"Change your life. God’s kingdom is here."

"Brood of snakes! What do you think you’re doing slithering down here to the river? Do you think a little water on your snakeskins is going to make any difference? It’s your life that must change, not your skin!
The Message, ©2002 Eugene H Peterson


His shocking message was meant to bring tears of repentance, but Jesus observed, “you did not mourn”. John the Baptizer had a strange diet, too: locusts and wild honey. He was a kind of hippie, a “naturalist”, and the sort of independent outdoorsman who knows how to live off the land, drink cactus milk and dig his own latrine with a bark shovel. But hey, prophets are supposed to be like that. God wants them to stick out so that somehow, someway, people pay attention to God’s warnings. Although John did draw some amazing crowds, many simply concluded, “This guy is too weird – I think he has a demon”.

Jesus’ style which was based on his way of being was quite a contrast with that of John. John was the last of the big time prophets. Jesus set a completely new way of doing God’s business. Jesus was your basic, standard human, at least at first glance. This is pretty amazing since he was taking this tack in spite of being God himself. Rather than emphasize the bad news, he decided to keep his message upbeat and preach the good news of the kingdom. Things like, “God is among us, there is forgiveness of sins for whoever comes to me. No need to keep searching, drink me and you’ll never thirst again!” Jesus said he “played the flute” for the people, and it was a happy tune. Happy enough to dance to! This human way of being is a wonderful part of how Jesus decided to bring God’s message to us. His favorite personal title was “Son of Man”, and he is quoted 82 times in the New Testament using it. It is, in fact, an indirect proof that Jesus clearly knew himself to be God in the flesh. Otherwise, what kind of title would “son of man” be? Everybody is the son (or daughter) of a man and a woman, right? For Jesus it was a title he was happy to announce and an amazing one because he was God somehow made into a son of man.

And what a man! He was gregarious – spending his time with multitudes, followers of all sorts and even sinners. He was a toucher (perhaps there was a bit of Spanish- or Italian-Jewish blood in Mary’s line!): he touched the untouchables - like kids, lepers, and the blind. And he touched them in places and in a way that no one else dared: tenderly and right on their blind, puss saturated eyes. His wonderful touch healed them all. Mothers rushed to him, “touch my child, please!” The fact is he couldn’t keep his hands off us. Good thing! He also let himself be touched: John leaned against him at meals as was the tradition between good friends, Thomas’s finger was kindly guided to probe the fresh scars, … and I wouldn’t be surprised if Jesus slowed his pace so that the woman with a bleeding disease could touch the edge of his clothes and be healed. Even a well-known prostitute touched him – he let her caress his feet with her repentant tears. This is amazing, strange, scandalous! How could this be God, holy and uplifted?

And how did he dress? About like everyone else, even if his was a one-piece tunic. Nothing there that would help you pick him out in a police lineup. His diet? No oddball stuff for him, no manna, no shewbread. He ate fried fish, French fries, diet coke or a glass of wine, vanilla ice cream for desert, coffee – one lump of sugar – well, let’s just say whatever everyone else was having. He wasn’t a vegetarian, and he didn’t ask for the “holy” menu, “Could you super-sanctify that, please?” He ate human stuff. He liked good wine, as more than one could attest. The result for those religious leaders was to pass him off as “a glutton and a drunkard…”

So, why did Jesus go to parties? John took the prophet’s approach, keeping a holy distance. Jesus took the human approach, up close and personal. Why did Jesus hang out with the boys, dress like them, eat like them, spit like them? And, what in the world was Jesus doing going to parties?

The answer is in the text I have already quoted, “The Son of Man (love that title!) came eating and drinking and they say ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and … and … sinners.’”

Why didn’t Jesus just set himself up in the temple in Jerusalem, rent a nice apartment, and preach every Sabbath at the center of the Jewish faith? Surely he was a great preacher. In short order he would have filled that place. Everybody likes to go see a guru from time to time, and sooner or later the world would be coming to him, and what better setting than the only temple in the world dedicated to the one true God? He could have thrown in a Wednesday night family Bible study to boot. Why all this running around? Hotel 6 every night. Smoke-filled bars that made his tunic stink – you know you can never really get that smell out. Why fraternize with the riff raff? Why risk the reputation? Why get so dirty? And of course, why set such a bad example??? Jesus knew perfectly well that four of his followers would be writing detailed reports of his activities, as if CNN were following him everywhere – all this stuff was going to come out. Is this the kind of life that someone sent by God, a Holy Man, with a divine message… Is this the life that should set the tone for those who follow? The world in the end would be watching!!!

Living in Spain has taught me a lot of things. Spaniards are really into chaos. And the best place for that is a small bar-café with TVs blaring, the coffee grinder at full tilt, the espresso steam that sounds like a little jet airplane landing in the coffee pot, and everyone talking at once. This is where Spaniards let their hair down, it’s their “second living room”. This is where you can talk about anything. This is where families celebrate the new car. This is where people are free to talk about life, make a bit of a mess and not have to clean it up. These places are full of smoke and chatter and spilled cold beer with tapas- little snacks that are supposed to keep the clients from getting drunk. The required trash cans are there, but most of the stuff ends up on the floor. The bathrooms are dirty and the doors don’t close right. This is the kind of place I was told for the first twenty two years of my life that I should stay away from. Just looking in at the flashing Budweiser sign would make my eyes feel dirty. And yet, this is exactly where Spaniards meet for just about all occasions and at least once a day. And they are often there late into the night. This is the place to watch the soccer game with the guys. Yet, how many times have I been told that the night belongs to the devil? Good Christians are in bed by 9 pm so that they can be up for the 5am men’s prayer breakfasts having already had their devotional time. So here I am on the Madrid street. Alone. And in there I can make out the Spaniards through the fogged window and the smoke. Men, women, couples, children, even grandma! They’re laughing and talking, the place is filled with a happy noise. I could invite some of them over to my house for a quiet cup of tea. Cookies, too. They like American cookies. I would have to remind them not to smoke – wouldn’t want to wreck our house. Maybe I could find a little Christian sticker for our front door that says cigarettes are of the devil. And since I am not into such late night hours they would have to come over, say, 7 pm. Of course, most Spaniards work until 8, and then there is the commute home. But perhaps the Lord just wants me to reach the ones who work shorter hours. Clean-living bank employees or something.

All this does make me ask, “Would Jesus go in there? Would he have fun in there? Would everyone accept him and tell him jokes? Would he laugh a little? Would he tell them to turn the music down so he could preach a sermon or would he just start talking to the guys at the bar? What would he order to drink – or would he save money and turn the water into… ahhh… Coke?”

I grew up in an evangelical church in Wilmington Delaware, near Philadelphia. My father was trained as a pastor and helped start a church in Minquidale, “the other side of the tracks,” before taking a secular job due to his poor health. But once his health improved a bit, he began preaching for his buddies who were on vacation, and continually served in our church in some way or another: as an elder, deacon, Sunday School superintendent, teacher or several of these at once. He visited the shut-ins, preached in old folk’s homes and prisons, while my Mom played the piano, sang alto and did everything in her power to facilitate Dad’s ministries. They were generous givers. We often had missionaries in our home for meals during their visits to Wilmington. They worked hard and quietly. They were the perfect ministry couple. Really! All this influence was basically positive and I gladly accepted the Lord as my Savior at about 8 years of age.

As a kid, I was very content in our church! We had everything there. I felt protected, surrounded. However, though I would never have said it, we were strange. There was no way I would invite any friends to church. No way, even though there were programs for everybody and for every circumstance: Christian scouts (I can still sing our song by heart), the Christ’s Ambassadors youth group, end-of-the-school-year parties (so that we wouldn’t feel the need to go to the school prom and mingle with evil people or dance like the heathen), and so on. Our church was a one-stop-shop for everything spiritual. We had a Christian school, Christian yellow pages, Christian bookstore with Christian greeting cards and Christian nick knacks, all Christian. And if it wasn’t Christian, we Christianized it. Our cars became rolling testimonies with the simple addition of God Loves You bumper stickers. Artwork in our homes was made holy by Bible verses inscribed under each landscape. An appropriate sticker could turn just about anything into a flaming witness. We listened to Christian radio and read Christian books. Exclusively. OK, one year my sister bought a “Fifth Dimension” album and there it was in the stack with all the gospel quartet albums. It sounded good but I never let myself really enjoy listening to it.

All this church activity kept us quite busy and very happy because we were going for this Christian thing 110%. We were the good guys. Our Christian testimony to the neighbors was huge. It was huge because they saw us dressed up really nice all the time and heading out the door with big Bibles. Sunday morning we had Sunday School, and then Worship service. Of course we had to stay late for the morning service because Dad had to count the money from the offering. In the evening was the Evangelistic Service. We had to go early Sunday night for choir rehearsal. The Sunday night service went quite long because we had to convince everybody there to convert and that takes time. So we would start at 7 pm and were done by maybe 9 pm or later. We really knew how to fog up the windows and those fearful sermons had me converting on a monthly basis for years. I was very good for the statistics. We would hang around after the meeting since apparently we just couldn’t get enough of this. Not to worry. On Wednesday evening we had another preaching and prayer meeting. And on Saturday we could do things with the youth group or clean the church if we didn’t have anything else to do. Somehow there was time to play Christian softball in a Christian league. I just loved it when we beat those Baptists from New Castle, even though they had a much bigger church.

All these things we could do dovetailed nicely all the things we couldn’t do: dance, play cards, go to the movies, go bowling, shoot pool, listen to rock music, and most especially hang around with non-believers. The plan was clearly to occupy all of our dangerously free time and keep us out of the world. Of course, we did evangelize. That was our biggest project! How did we do this? We passed out a lot of tracts in the neighborhood of our church building. It was a Jewish neighborhood, largely, but we kept stuffing their mailboxes with excellent literature that was personally stamped with our church address and service times. We had gospel quartet concerts at church, and there was always the Sunday night evangelistic service if you could get someone to come. We had tent meetings with even hotter than usual hell-fire preaching and miracles. We had a radio show and I sang on it a couple of times with my sister. I’m sure it was good. We bussed in poor black kids from down town for our Sunday School. I think we got up to about 600 people stuffed in to the Sunday School annex when we were at our peak there in the mid 1970’s. The main thing was this: evangelize, but do not mix socially with non-believers. They could suck you down and then you would be lost. In fact, we had a secret code at our church so we would know who was dangerous and who wasn’t. If the person was a Christian, you called that individual “Brother” or “Sister”. I remember one Sunday evening before the evangelistic service standing with my father, talking with Brother Yarrington. There was another man standing next to him whom I had never seen before. Brother Yarrington said to my dad, “Brother Joe, I would like you to meet Mr. Hammond here.” I was perhaps ten years old and I remember catching my breath. I inched closer to my Dad. He had said “MR. Hammond.” He did not say BROTHER Hammond. This man was a heathen!!!! An out-and-out sinner!!!! I just stared at him.

Is this the approach Jesus took towards sinners? Look at how even John the Baptist reacted when he observed Jesus’ life:

2 Now when John in prison heard of the works of Christ, he sent word by his disciples,
3 and said to Him, "Are You the Expected One, or shall we look for someone else?"
4 And Jesus answered and said to them, "Go and report to John what you hear and see:
5 the blind receive sight and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have the Gospel preached to them.”
6 "And blessed is he who keeps from stumbling over Me."
The New American Standard Version, ©1986 The Lockman Foundation


John had been announcing the coming of the Messiah – that was his main job! When Jesus came on the scene, John baptized him, and saw the Holy Spirit descend on him. Perhaps he even heard God’s voice say “this is my man”. So, what “works of Christ” are causing John doubt? Jesus’ miracles are surely not creating uncertainty for him. The miracles were proof of God’s hand on Jesus, at least. What is causing John to say to himself, “this just doesn’t seem like the one?” I think it is because, for John, Jesus was too “worldly.” Jesus was fraternizing with philanderers. Chumming with cheats. Healing heels. Touching traitors. Loving the loose. The Greek word in verse six translated “stumbling” literally means “scandalized”. Jesus says to John and all of us, “blessed is he who is not scandalized by Me!” John was scandalized. Jesus almost seemed to enjoy spending time with rabble-rousers, crooks, gang members, grease ball types dressed in leather, drug traffickers and prostitutes – he scandalized even John the Baptist who was so distraught that in spite of all he had seen, he began to think that this Jesus just could not be the Holy One of God.

John surely thought, “There must be another one coming along. Can’t be this one. No way!” And yet, it was. This was the One that God sent. And this is how he was: a friend of sinners. Even Jesus’ close disciples could not bring themselves to say that. It was only from the mouth of Jesus’ opponents, and in the form of a strong criticism, that we in fact hear the truth: “he is a friend of tax collectors and… SINNERS.” A friend of sinners.

How do we know that Jesus was a friend of sinners? The ultimate proof is that he died for sinners. But his death is just that, the ultimate proof. But not the only proof. The first historical facts about Jesus’ adult life already begin to reveal his intentions. Let’s accompany Jesus to one party, and observe him!

2:1 And on the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there;
2 and Jesus also was invited, and His disciples, to the wedding.
3 And when the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to Him, "They have no wine."
4 And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what do I have to do with you? My hour has not yet come."
5 His mother said to the servants, "Whatever He says to you, do it."
6 Now there were six stone waterpots set there for the Jewish custom of purification, containing twenty or thirty gallons each.
7 Jesus said to them, "Fill the waterpots with water." And they filled them up to the brim.
8 And He said to them, "Draw some out now, and take it to the headwaiter." And they took it to him.
9 And when the headwaiter tasted the water which had become wine, and did not know where it came from (but the servants who had drawn the water knew), the headwaiter called the bridegroom,
10 and said to him, "Every man serves the good wine first, and when men have drunk freely, then that which is poorer; you have kept the good wine until now."
11 This beginning of His signs Jesus did in Cana of Galilee, and manifested His glory, and His disciples believed in Him.
The New American Standard Version, ©1986 The Lockman Foundation


I’m not going to delve into the water-to-wine trick. It’s another little phrase, not at all incidental, that catches my eye. It simply says that “Jesus and his disciples were invited to the wedding.” Cana was 12 km from Nazareth, widow Mary’s home, and Jesus’ home up until very recently. Jesus had been way down south in Bethany, 112 km away, getting baptized. (and spending 40 days in the desert???) So, he had to scoot back up to Cana, traveling hard 3 days to make it. Jesus had not yet done a single public miracle. He himself was the result of a miraculous virgin birth, and the Holy Spirit had just descended on him in the form of a dove. God had also spoken from heaven over him. But these things were not yet widely known. Jesus was not famous. And yet they invited him to the wedding.

Imagine the families planning the wedding. They are inviting all their friends and family, the Cohens, the Horowitz, Wesmeisters, Sol and his wife, “… widow Mary the carpenter’s wife”, and then there is her son Jesus who has been gathering a bunch of disciples – big guys who know how to eat and drink big time. Fishermen with appetites. But Jesus, he is part of the community, a great guy, one of the family. “OK – we’ll invite him!” And we know from the Bible what Jesus was like. People liked him, and not just for his miracles. Affable. Kind. Neat guy. A little quiet, perhaps. Not a party-pooper. Nice smile. Happy eyes. Honest, hard-working. A penetrating, inviting look. Not really what you would call “good looking” and yet strangely attractive.

So did this guy ruin the party? Not at all! If this had been a present day wedding, he surely would have danced with the bride!! No, he was not giving inductive studies on the Old Testament prophets off in a corner. His arms were not crossed. He was not looking at his watch; he was tapping his foot to the music! He laughed at the jokes. He was happy for the bride and groom – perhaps his smile was in part a reflection of his joy in thinking of his own future bride! Actually, he had no intention of doing any miracles. OK. He did get the family out of a jam, and he honored his mother’s desire and faith when he turned some water into wine, better than any Vega-Cecilia 1994, Spain’s best and most expensive vino. But mainly he was there to be with family, friends and be a part of the community. He had a good time! He was at a party and fit in just fine, yet always acted correctly and was completely without sin in all that he did. He was a man, and he went to the party to be with people he loved, to be a friend. He loved people. Some were his disciples and some were not. He loved them all and he wanted to be there with them and for them. This is how Jesus began his public ministry, and this is probably very characteristic of how he spent much of his non-preaching time.

Do you get invited to shin-digs by your un-churched friends? Jesus did. Carlos Grasa does. OK, Carlos is a little crazy. He is the first one in the pool, no matter how icy the water. He is also the first one to say “I follow Christ!” Carlos is fun, always inventing new jokes and pulling your leg. The parties we had in Zaragoza were always better when Carlos was there, and our daughters loved him. Carlos had lots of friends and many did not know Christ. He has been a great example to me of just being friendly. For the years we worked in Zaragoza as missionaries, Carlos was one of the best natural evangelists I had the privilege to work with, and at the same time one of the most fun people to be with. Thankfully, God doesn’t call us to be “dead in the head and everywhere else” (Howard Hendricks).

Jesus showed us he loved us by being one of us, and hanging around. We Christians need to do the same: hang around. We need to preach the Gospel in the context of being with people. Doesn’t that seem, like, obvious? Jesus preached and did miracles of course – and someone has calculated that everything he did of that sort as described in the Gospels would occupy approximately 35 days of activity. So during his three years of public ministry, what did he do the other 1095 days? He may have repeated some of the sermons a few times, but mostly one could guess that he lived among us. And he went to parties.

Get this: God does not call us to be gods. There are some sects that preach this, but this is not Christian teaching. Well, what does God want us to be then? Truly human. Human, like Christ was – he set the pace. His way of being human did not include sin, although he was tempted like all of us. His life teaches us the meaning of godliness – to be the kind of human that God made us to be and that Jesus so beautifully lived among us.

Somehow this kind of Christianity seems almost within our grasp. This is something we can do with God’s help and example! God is not asking us to float on air or be suprahuman. Our goal is to be human like Jesus was human, godly, even-keeled, a good friend, kind, humble, sociable, loving, forgiving. And we are to live this way like He did, among humans of all sorts, among our Christian brothers and in the world.

Brennan Manning, in his book The Ragamuffin Gospel, says “it is impossible to imagine a Jesus with an inexpressive face, stoic, no joy, critical, while he reclined and ate with the riffraff. We completely miss the human personality of Jesus when we perceive him as some passive mask giving dramatic monologues about divinity. Such a timid interpretation of Christ robs him of his humanity, casts him in plaster, and causes one to conclude that he must never have laughed or cried or smiled or hurt himself; rather, he just passed through our world without getting emotionally involved.”

Jesus did not walk through this earth on tip toes, wearing a gas mask and rubber gloves. He was involved in our lives. He even went to parties! Why? I think he rather likes us. All of us. Sinners and saints. And this is no esoteric love. He actually likes to be around us. He had friends, lots of them. They invited him over to their homes, and some were his enemies! He was glad to go. And that is where some of his most personal testimony came out: at the dinner table, talking. Of course, Jesus’ disciples were his true family and he loved them dearly – ate a lot with them, too. But he loved sinners, and that is why he went to parties. This is all quite in line with the long-term intentions of God the Father. In the book of Revelation chapter 21, it seems that the Lord is finally and at long last getting what he has hoped for, paid for, and longed for:

3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He shall dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be among them,
4 and He shall wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there shall no longer be any death; there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away."
The New American Standard Version, ©1986 The Lockman Foundation


He is going to live among us! He did it once in the person of Jesus, but that was just a bit of a visit compared to the eternity of living together.

We don’t have time to go to more parties in the New Testament, but I will mention a few for you to check out. Matthew threw a good one, and he writes about it in his own gospel, chapter 9 verses 10-15. Some religious types were there and of course they thought Jesus was out of place. He told them, “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” In Luke 15:1, 2 we find Jesus hanging around and eating with those rotten tax collectors, a traitor gang of “Sheriffs of Nottingham.” Then, down the road he invites himself to a bash at Zacchaeus’ house, Luke 19.

I suggest you crash those parties and check out for yourself what Jesus was up to. While you’re there you may find yourself asking more questions – like “why don’t I have any non-Christian friends?” or “why am I not being invited over?”

It’s time to start living a little dangerously and make friends with, ahhhh, I’m looking at my secret coder ring to get this right, “MR.” Hammond or “Miss” Jones… May God give us wisdom how to be truly in the world, always keeping in mind that we are not in fact from here. The Gospel is best preached, best lived at parties. Loosen up! There are lots of kinds of parties or fun social gatherings: dinners, hiking, camping, concerts, sports events, school programs, clubs, volunteer organizations, continuing education… Almost whatever healthy interest you have can an open and natural door to meet people who are in darkness! Just make sure you are severely outnumbered!

You may be saying, “Rick, that hot Spanish sun has fried your brain. You’ve gone whack-o on us. You need a long furlough – you need to go back to seminary. Did you ever even go to seminary? Those crazy fiesta-loving Spaniards have twisted your views”. It’s true (and gratefully so) – Spaniards have taught me that the Gospel is best communicated when there is a personal relationship, when we are relaxed and talking about life face to face, on their turf! They are less threatened when I am the one who is clearly outnumbered. Food also helps.

Jesus went to a certain “party”, going where no good churchman would go. And guess what? He found me. He found you! He did not find us in the Holy-of-Holies. NO! He had to rip that curtain and come out and get us. He came over to our side of the fence… can we do less for our friends? What are we doing hiding in church buildings during all our free time? Throw out your Christian yellow pages! He found us out there in all that muck! Have we forgotten where we came from??????

Why did Jesus go to parties?

To find you.

So… what are you doing this Friday night?

J.B. Satterthwaite Eulogy

Joseph B. Satterthwaite
A Eulogy from the kids

Sat – er – wait. Sat – ers – wait. Sa – thers – white. You’ve heard ’em all, Dad. Even Sat-earth-wait! No wonder they called you “J.B.” down in Belhaven, North Carolina. So, now that you’re with the Lord you’ll be getting a new name, that secret one written on a little white rock. It’s gotta be shorter than Satterthwaite.

We know it was just a hobby, but have you checked out your mid-trib theory with Abraham? Of course, the main thing is to see your Savior, and now you have: face-to-face. You’ve been serving him for a long while now… talking him up at the prison along with your buddies Dick, Edgar, Art, Ray… preaching at Crestview with Mom on piano singing alto… visiting the shut-ins with Dave… you got a little old there yourself – did you take time to notice? You sought His face, you taught of Him, you preached Him and now your work is finished. Your final words “I’m done” sounded a lot like what your own Lord said with His final breath.

We so appreciate your steadiness. You kept the course! You didn’t look back! Good thing! All those prisoners who prayed with you week after week these last years were a sweet incentive as you approached the finish line.

How you loved us! We lacked for nothing. You listened. Listened and prayed. What more could we ask of a father? We were not your only love, and that is OK. You loved Mom. She well knew how “lucky” she was to have you. You loved God. You loved the Word. You loved His Church. We didn’t mind sharing you a little, and it didn’t feel like that. There was plenty of you to go around. A big man in a little body.

We loved your southern ways. You know you gave away your subtle jokes with that upturned lip, your eyes twinkling. That’s how we knew. We’re sure glad that New York City gal convinced a North Carolina boy to step over the Mason-Dixon line. Delaware is almost South.

Don’t know why you liked fishing so much. You didn’t do it that often, and you hardly ever caught anything. Spent an awful lot of time untangling tackle or baiting our hooks. Now, as a fisher of men, we know why you liked that.

Mom says you two didn’t know you could have adopted some of the foster babies we had. Maybe that was God’s way of keeping our family under 17. You were a “softie”. Mom says you couldn’t eat when you had to give them back.

So… who gets the corner cabinet? That’s two years of walnut shavings, glue and starting over. Somehow it’s you: understated, solid, a refuge for delicate things, carefully crafted. Kathy, you say??? Kathy!!?? OK. OK. The hutch goes to your “pumpkin”. The tools and glue and leftover walnut to Rick?? Well, you did teach him everything you know about cabinet making.

Just a thought: maybe the Lord won’t mind if you do a little gardening. That’s how He started the whole thing off way back with Adam. A little okra, lima beans, collard greens, some tomatoes. That was heaven for you here, maybe there, too. And no weeds!

We’ll see you soon. You taught us that yourself from the Word. Life is a vapor. To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord, for those who are His. And, go ahead and eat all the okra you can grow: Kathy and I probably won’t like it up there any more than we did down here.

Matt tells his story

My name is Matt, but they call me “Levi” – like the jeans. This is a little ironic since I have to wear a suit every day. I have a very good job with the IRS in my country, but few friends. One, actually. My family is very religious and I follow the family tradition, but “at a distance”, a great distance. My situation… well, how can I explain this… it’s just that a civil servant like myself, it isn’t easy for me to practice my faith.

I pay a very high price for this job – they call me “collaborationist” – it sounds bad, I know. But, the occupying government isn’t so bad. Look at the quality of the roads! And finally now there is drinking water and even sewers in a few quarters, like mine for example. All this, and the majority continue complaining. And for a “traitor” like myself, they don’t even leave me in peace when I go to the temple to pray. So, I don’t go any more. How can I go to the services only to have to put up with cold stares and serve as an easy target for the sermon of whatever priest is on call? It’s impossible to think about God in this situation.

And now I don’t exist as far as my family is concerned. So, I live alone with my spouse – my salary. And with my children: those extra payments from various businessmen who I have helped find generous hidden deductions on their sales tax obligations.

It was Wednesday; a day with few consults given that it was neither end-of-the-month nor end-of-the-week. In comes a thirty-something country boy, and I can tell right away he hasn’t a cent on him. The front office gals have their instructions not to let this kind through, but here he is at my desk – what can I do?

His accent gives him away; he’s a hick from the north and there’s a light smell of fish gut. I hope he realizes that here we accept only hard cash, none of those payments “in kind”. He looks me over like someone who knows me, and knows me well. But, with some differences. For example, without that critical look I always get. It’s as if I were really important to him, somehow.

I know this man! This is that guy who’s been wandering around talking up a new religion – as if he were some kind of special agent sent from God. Well, it’s true I wouldn’t mind getting the clergy off my back, and the endless rituals – and find some way that at least God would accept me. It’s true: this job is the only thing I value in this world – and I would leave it in an instant if there were a hope of starting again, of being at peace with God, or having a family that loved me…

“Follow me.”

He didn’t say anything else. He stood up to leave and paused in the door. He looks back at me, expectantly. If I leave this job, they will find someone else in a couple of days. And then there are those extra payments waiting for me in the back office under the rug. I stand up; I can hear my heart increase the rhythm. Time itself seems to stop to catch a breath, and then holds it.

(Levi continues telling his experience in a book of the Bible that carries his own name, Matthew.)

Inside the Pilgrims Fountain Inn

OK the house is cute. But what makes the thing tick is the volunteers. And it isn't easy. But since volunteers typically stay for a week, they can go all out keeping those bathrooms clean, running two pilgrims back 20 km. in the car to recoup their lost walking sticks, cooking as delicious a meal as you can for 30... on a budget.

If you are tall, volunteering at this house is humbling. The short Galicians of previous generations built these places low. And between the sagging beams and the nagging hung decorations of farm implements and so on, you whack your head a lot on the charming decor, turn-of-the century hand-forged nails, and kitchen pots.

But there is much to compensate the stooping. The beautiful link between the St James Way and the path of life itself opens up many doors of conversation with pilgrims and volunteers throughout the day. Dinner together in the evening is absolutely captivating. If there are many German and northern Europeans, the friendly hum of conversation has measured swells. The more roaring sea breaker conversations arrive with the Italians, Spanish and other Mediterranean guests. The sense of "family for one evening" opens up many excellent table conversations. There is no better opportunity to talk of spirituality, God, reasons for living, questions and doubts.

I've volunteered at the house now for three summers, this last summer for three weeks. I'm hooked! There is no better crossroads of this type that I know of in all of Europe. As a Christian I simply must be there. It is challenging - but I learn so much - and the team spirit among the volunteers is encouraging.

Maybe they could lower the floor a bit.

Saint James Way

There is nothing like being in the right place at the right time. Ligonde, in northwest Spain doesn't seem like the right place except for cows.

But the Saint James Way runs through Ligonde. And there is an inn on the edge of town, as you leave heading towards mythic Santiago de Compostela. If you don't take the sharp bend to the right you run into what appears to be an old style garage. The walls are stone, the roof is random shaped slate. There is a fountain that looks like a bathtub, vertically on it's side. A scallop shell is carved above - one of the many symbols of the St James Way. This is no ordinary wayside farm garage. For one thing, people are hanging about. On the left there is free coffee. A little sign says "Albergue" or "Inn". So, this is an in for St James Way pilgrims. Looks cute. There is a sign with a quote next to the fountain:

"Everyone who drinks of this water shall thirst again;14 but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life." Jesus

Can we peek in side? Of course! And right there beyond the warm dining room with candles lit are what they say are the two cleanest bathrooms between Roncesvalles and Santiago. Perfect!

There are more than the usual one or two tired workers - and these volunteers are kind of perky - they seem to like what they are doing. They say this is a "Chrisitan Inn" - well, this is the kind of thing one expects along the St James Way, and really there is precious little of this kind of stop-over.

They have beds with sheets upstairs - and you can stay for free (donations accepted of course). And the evening meal is included - and breakfast tomorrow morning. And we can hang about and - well - talk about life, what we are learning along the Way. This is the best part of doing the Camino de Santiago, as they call it here.

For us as Christian volunteers, it is a wonderful opportunity to serve the pilgrims who pass by the house and who spend the evening and night with us - and to express and live our own faith in the one who said "I am the Way", Jesus himself.

It is the right place and the right time - at this crossroads of the St James Way - with time to talk and contemplate life.