Living Waters Fellowship

Growing up in a Pastor’s home had its advantages and disadvantages, same as any other family. On one hand we got free movie passes to the theatre in town but on the other hand, my parents knew over half the town, one way or another, so, I could never get away with anything!

My folks believed that teaching us how to make choices was essential in life. Dad, being the Pastor, would be at the church long before the doors were opened. Mom would come along later. Our choice concerning church was simple; we could ride with Dad or we could ride with Mom.

My memories of Living Waters Fellowship are probably tainted with fondness, but even in its imperfections I find many principals that I value today were carved inside the walls of that church building.

It was your typical full gospel church; Lively music, sound preaching, and a few “Amens” from the congregation. People knew one another and relationships were genuine.

My father and my mother took time to know their members. This rarely happened in the altar of the church, but more so over a Sunday potluck or picnic in the park. It would happen over a horse ride out in the pasture or boating with friends. Sometimes it would be just a quick “Hello” at Wal-Mart; other times it was to lend a helping hand where it was needed. There were new births celebrated and funerals remorsefully performed. It was in these less than spiritual moments, where my parents chose to be present in the lives of those who called them Pastor.

To hear my father talk about shepherding a flock is to hear his heart for people. His depiction comes through many years of experience. He told me once, “A good shepherd never has rough hands.” He explained about Lanolin which is an oil found on wool bearing sheep. As the shepherds would touch the wool the Lanolin healed and softened their hands. It protected their hands from abrasions.

Some might think, a pastor should keep his distance from his congregation thus to avoid being hurt; Not my father. He taught me, it is not in the distance that pastors find protection but in mingling with the sheep. Pastors who do not smell like sheep will create a herd mentality not a flock. A herd is driven; A flock is led. The shepherd needs the sheep just as much and the sheep need the shepherd.                                                  

Even as the Pastor’s daughter I was not allowed to sit on the sidelines. I had to find an avenue to serve in. My parents believed that serving others was close to God’s heart and serving in the local church ran a close second.

Today, we live in a fast pace society where slapping a gift card in someone’s hand qualifies as effort and a sympathy meal is something that comes out of a drive thru window. We put more thought into a text message than taking time for an actual conversation with someone. Growing up, my parents assured me, I would never be able to convenience my way out of serving.

Our previous pastor, before we moved, made a statement that resonated with me. He was speaking about Abraham going up the mountain to offer Isaac as a sacrifice. He said, “The day Abraham climbed Mt. Moriah, he was trusting God, but Isaac was trusting his daddy.” Isaac was old enough to notice there was not a lamb with them as they climbed the mountain. All he could do was trust that his daddy knew what he was doing.

Eva will be of no effect if left to her own. Chuck and I must teach her how to be a part of a flock. My little girl is watching me. She is trusting her daddy and I to show her the way.

When Eva was a baby, we began to take her to the church nursery, and then, as she grew, to kids church. I saw the love and exhaustion on the faces of those that were serving our children each Sunday. I could hear Pastor Randy saying, “Is the God you love the God you serve?” I had learned through the growing pains of my youth that serving would cost me something; Time, effort and money.

I made a decision at that time in my life that I would give where Eva was taking. I would teach Eva by example how to serve. I want her to recall precious memories one day, of those that poured into her as a child and I never want her to question where her mother was.

I will be easy to locate. She will find me making her costume for the seemingly insignificant Christmas play or helping her learn songs for the Easter program. She will find me organizing the church carnival and talent show; Trying to figure out where we are going to put “Mrs. Antwanette’s” daughter who can’t sing. She will find me back in the Sunday school rooms helping prepare snack time and watching me tell all of kids to sit down and be quiet! But most of all, she will see love and exhaustion on my face. She will know I served.

There is an unknown hero somewhere that tirelessly gave of themselves to make a difference in each of our lives; Now, the turn is ours.

My life was impacted in more ways than I realized through Sunday school. Our teacher would make the Bible story come alive as she placed the characters on the felt board. My friends and I would roar with laughter as we tried to keep up with the actions to the song Father Abraham. I thought Gerbert had come to life when he appeared over the puppet show wall to tell me how special I was to God. My heart soared when my mother smiled at the arts and crafts I had made for her with noodles and paper plates.

As we grew up, there were youth group meetings, outings and serious talks about life and love. I can still see the faces of those that chose to pour into my life and help set me on a course for success.

Church is more than just a building where we go to be encouraged and hear a pretty sermon. It is where we are corrected, challenged and changed. It is where we go to serve and make a difference in someone’s life.

Living Waters Fellowship is gone now but the affect it had lives on in the people changed by it’s presence. For me, I feel it’s presence every time I choose to serve. Pastor Randy Fuller says, “Sons are born but servants are made.”

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“As each one has received a gift, minister it to one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.” 1 Peter 4:10

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