The Back Yard Glacier

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      I am going to put in a bid for the 2018 Winter Olympics to take place in Hendersonville. The Winter Olympics are being held in Vancouver, and Vancouver is experiencing a lack of snow. Well, come on over here, and we will take care of the snow business. I have just filled one of those USPS single-priced boxes with snow and shipped it to Vancouver to help with their deficit.
      We have the beginnings of a glacier forming in our back yard. There are several small animals that seem to have disappeared from our yard, and we are fairly sure they have fallen down a crevice, permanently preserved until the great thaw comes at some unknown time in the future. When the thaw does come, I will miss the adventure of Anne walking the dog in the morning equipped with an ice ax, crampons, a rescue helmet, and a survival kit, all the while being belayed back to me and my figure 8 descender, in case she winds up falling into the darkness of a monster crevice.
      We could have the premier 2018 Olympic contest of ice dancing, hockey, and short track racing right out in front of my house. Orleans Avenue would be a great place for the ski jump. The halfpipe could be performed on most any street with the snow piled up on both sides. I would also like to introduce a new sport called “ice demolition derby,” since we have been playing this very game on our streets for much of the past two months.
      I am not sure, but I believe I saw some icebergs in the French Broad River the other day, probably broken off from a similar glacier as the one that is forming in my back yard. And I have spent the last five Saturdays in the office trying to decide whether to cancel, cancel partially, or not cancel at all, church services. Every decision comes with other decisions involving plowing, shoveling, phone calling, car pooling, substituting, e-news blasting, TV and radio station contacting, message-machine changing, First News changing, and muffin considerations for the Gettman Room. Probably of all the decisions to be made, the homemade hot and fresh muffins that are supplied in the Gettman Room are the most important Sunday decision to make. I believe muffins should be the outcome of almost every decision that is ultimately made.
      Decisions, decisions! Can we ever get away from having to make so many decisions? And how do we even know which decisions are correct? Is it better to be on this side or on that side? The snows of doubt fall and fall, and there seems to be no end to choices amid drifts, treacherous icebergs, or hidden crevices. We wonder where we are to come down on the important issues that are perplexing to our doctrinal faith.
      When the Christian faith was first getting off the ground, it was considered a non-religion. The Romans considered Christians “atheists.” This opinion was somewhat justified, since whenever the early Christians were asked, “Where is your temple?,” the Christians would shrug and proclaim that they did not have temples, since they met in houses. “Well where are your priests?,” the neighbors would ask, and the Christians would shrug and say, “We do not have any.” Then the neighbors would ask, “Well, where are your sacrificial animals that are smoked to appease the gods?,” and the Christians would double-shrug and say, “We don’t have any.”
      The early Christians began as the most un-religious people ever known. All they could say was, “Jesus is our Temple, and Jesus is the only High Priest, and Jesus is the only sacrifice we need!” Who in the world would want to become a Christian if this is the way it was going? After all, good prospect followers would wonder “where will my daughter get married if you don’t have a sanctuary,” and “who will perform the service if you have no priests?”
      The early church had some very snowy days of doubt that caused people to wonder if it might not be better to simply go along with the Roman culture and embrace the Roman religious ways. There were few clear-cut, tried and true paths that had been worked out by the forebears. All situations and every new day brought unexplored wilderness to be overcome and new paths to blaze.
      With Ash Wednesday past and Lent squarely in our focus, it is time for the Church of Jesus Christ to spend a season exploring the wilderness of our soul while making hard decisions toward the Kingdom of God. Lent is our time to shake off the snows of indecision and to move to a pious and contrite relationship with our Savior.
      This is the season to thaw the glaciers that are forming in the backyard of our soul.  

Rev. Dan Martin is pastor of First UMC, Hendersonville. He can be reached at moose1953@hotmail.com