ICE CREAM ------ I SCREAM

If I'd only known there was a pint of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream was awaiting me in the freezer it would have been different. Honest, instead of sleeping in the filthy old chicken coop, home would have been a church building where the ice cream was located. Old filthy coops aren't completely a bad place to sleep, least the poops are dried up, but ice cream is always better than dried poops.

It was Sunday morning about ten before nine. Along with one hundred or so others, I filed into a major Christian denomination church building. My seat is always, well 99% always, the front pew on a Sunday morning. Think about it, I'm never taking someone's favorite seat. Many of us have learned the hard way not to invade others territory on a Sunday morning. The result can be worse than taking another's box seat at Yankee Stadium. Some of us Christians can be down right ornery, in a Christian way of course, when someone takes our "forever been ours" space.

I made it to the front pew with my backpack and church bulletin. Not this day, but some Sundays an usher will be quite insistent that I leave my pack behind. They usually aren't swayed by "the pack holds my water bottle that I need for singing hymns loudly," or "it's the location of my Bible." But when I mention "my wallet is in my pack," I'm guessing they don't want to lose a paying customer, thus they grant me the freedom to proceed. Will churches some day be equipped with metal detectors and security guards? I hope the walk across America for Jesus is over before I have to deal with that scenario!

This was one of those times I wasn't booked anywhere. Most of the scheduled dates are with the Church of the Brethren (my denomination) and I was nearing the end of a "world record" 767 mile distance in between Brethren Churches. There were two other denomination bookings during those 767 miles, but this wasn't one of them. By the way, I also sit in the front pew the times I'm booked for the reason already given.

As I'm settling into MY PEW, and after removing my Bible, journal, water bottle, and wallet, I realized no one had greeted me in any way. This isn't unusual, I mean who wants to approach a poopy smelling, filthy, scruffy, old man with a huge backpack up in the front of the sanctuary where no normal Christian frequents. Praise God, more often than not, a brave soul will greet me, but not this day.

The time was a couple minutes to nine and the pastor came down from the pulpit area and said to me, "my name is Reverend what ever his last name was." I don't know why he had to say Reverend and then only state his last name? I'd noticed he was attired in a preachers robe, thus it was already obvious he was a clergyman. Why do some preachers have to do the formal last name only intro? It sure feels friendlier when they introduce themselves as Bill or George or anyone but Sue like the rest of us do on Sunday morning.

He then stated, "yesterday I saw you walking along the highway, so where you headed?" Whoa, this is cool, someone is greeting me and asked a question too. What should I say besides, "Hi, my name is Don and I am glad to meet you." There are many truthful ways to answer the numerous questions I've heard from the myriad of people on this walk. "I'm headed to Worthington," was my reply as that was where my next official Brethren stop was. I hoped he was going to say something like "that's quite a distance from here," which might have led to a conversation, but instead, he went back up to the pulpit for the beginning of worship.

Finally it was preaching time and this preacher was the type that was a script reader. There are also the note type, (like me) and the no note type. Some preachers have the whole Bible memorized. Amazing!

The script he wrote concerned his shame that happened ten years earlier while he was pastoring in another state. He shared with us how a homeless looking man entered his church just before worship service. All of a sudden, my ears became larger than Dumbo the Elephant's. It's a good thing I could hold on to my backpack to hold on to as my ears might have flown me thru the ceiling. He told us how the drifter had asked him for a place to wash up, get some food, rest, and get a few bucks. The pastor turned his fellow human being away on that Sunday morning. He quoted Jesus Christ over and over again from the Bible and told us how he blew it with the man. As the drifter exited the then young Reverend was told "well, I guess I'll try the next church down the road." According to the script, we were told the next church down the road was called a month later. The preacher's shame grew as the pastor from the next church stated, "I took him in, fed him, clothed him, allowed him to rest up, and then I gave him a few dollars."

He's reading his script to his congregation and me and I'm saying to myself, "if they are listening the way I'm listening, I'll be smothered after the benediction. I mean, they will love me to death." This was a top five sermon for my entire life and script readers aren't my first choice.

It's ten to ten and the benediction was given. No one came to smother me with love. No one came up to me at all. Someone announced it was coffee and cookie time as I packed up my Bible, journal, water bottle, and wallet. Coffee and cookie time was held right next to the sanctuary without a wall in between. As I am about ready to leave, the preacher came down from the pulpit a second time and said, "I owe you an apology." Dumbfounded, I said back to him, "you owe me an apology, for what?" "Maybe you noticed I was reading so I had to say what I said." "Yes, I noticed you were reading, but what do you owe me an apology for?" "I must have embarrassed you terribly." " Embarrassed me, this was one of the five best sermons I have heard my entire life." He asked a few more questions and finally I either had to lie or tell him I'm walking across America for Jesus Christ. "Would you like some coffee and cookies with us?" "I haven't had coffee in over thirty years, but I wouldn't mind a couple of cookies." Someone from the fellowship hall yelled out "we've ate all the cookies up."

I was on the road again for a two block walk to another major Christian denomination church for a scheduled stop. Arriving at 10:05 I was greeted by people standing and clapping their hands in a very welcoming way. "Wow, and I'm not even a member of their denomination" went through my mind.

So much for sermon notes as what just transpired needed to be shared and not what I had planned. It's only the second time I've ever shared something negative from the pulpit about others that might be personally known by those I'm sharing with. The congregation was challenged with, if I was booked at the other church and just dropped in on y'all, how would have treated me? Would anyone have clapped, smiled my way, or made me feel truly welcome?

If I'd only known the scheduled church had a pint of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream waiting for me along with the bed in the church building I was already aware of, I would have pushed the final three miles, despite the fact I was very tired. I wouldn't have slept in the filthy old coop or dropped in on the other church. I would have missed a top five sermon. All's well that ends well because the ice cream was quite good after worship service.

Each July my denomination holds a "get together" for thousands of Brethren. Boise, Idaho and the campus of Boise State University was the Brethren Annual Conference site for 2003. We rented the campus and for the first two days I walked around with my backpack and walking clothes on. I'd done laundry the day before and took a shower each day, but didn't wear my name tag.

Except for those that knew me, my Christian brothers and sisters avoided me like the plague. Then on day three, I was twelve feet tall on the Jumbotron big screen in the basketball arena. After that, I couldn't go anywhere without being mobbed. People said it must feel great being recognized for what you are doing. I told them it feels horrible because I know how it was the first two days. It was the same as the real world this homeless person constantly has to deal with.

Till the next time...

    In Christ love,

        Don