Where is the "BC"?

I got this story a few years ago from a friend who passed it along to me by e-mail. I laughed so hard when I read it and I thought I'd post it, considering that my life is VERY dull these days and I have nothing better to write about...

There was a nice lady, a minister's widow, who was a little old fashioned. She was planning a week's vacation in Skylake Yosemite campground (Bass Lake, to the uninitiated), but she wanted to make sure of the accommodations first. Uppermost in her mind were the bathroom facilities, but she couldn't bring herself to write "toilet" in her letter. After considerable deliberation she settled on "bathroom commode", but when she wrote that down it still sounded too forward. So, after the first page she refered to the bathroom commode as "BC". "Does the cabin where I will be staying have its own BC? If not, where is the BC located?" is what she wrote.

The campground owner took the first page of the letter and the lady's cheque and gave it to his secretary. He put the remainder of the letter on the desk of the senior member of his staff without noticing that the staffer would have no way of knowing what "BC" meant. Then the owner went off to run some errands.

The staff member cam in after lunch, found the letter, and was baffled by the euphemism. So he showed it around to several counselors, but they couldn't decipher it either. The staff member's wife, who knew that the lady was the widow of a famous Baptist preacher, was sure that it must be a question about the local Baptist church. "Of course," the first staffer exclaimed, "'BC' stands for 'Baptist church," and sat down to write the following:

Dear Madam,

I regret very much the delay in answering your letter, but now I take pleasure in informing you that the BC is located nine miles north of the campground and is capable of seating 250 people at one time. I admit it is quite a distance if you are in the habit of going regularly, but no doubt you will be pleased to know that a great number of people take their lunches along and make a day of it. They usually arrive early and stay late. It is such a beautiful facility and the acoustics are marvelous. Even the normal delivery sounds can be heard.

The last time my wife and I went was six years ago, and it was so crowded that we had to stand up the whole time we were there. It may interest you know that right now there is a supper planned to raise money to buy more seats, which will be held in the basement of the "BC".

I would like to say that it pains me very much not to be able to go more regularly, but it is surely no lack of desire on my part. As we grow older it seems to be more of an effort, especially in cold weather. If you decide to come down to our campground perhaps I could go with you the first time, sit with you, and introduce you to all the folks. After all, this is a friendly community.

Remember

When I was growing up I thought that war was something that happened a long time ago. In school we would read about it in our history textbooks, or have veterans from WW II come and speak to our class about what it was like to be in a war. My dad was a small boy when the Germans occupied Denmark then, and he even had stories to tell. I never grew up in a war. I did however grow up with the threat of war hanging over us; 20 years ago was the height of the Cold War, with the potential to blow ourselves up 10 times over with nuclear weapons. Then the Berlin wall came down, the Soviet Union collapsed, and it seemed like war was becoming an even more remote and distant memory.

My how times have changed. Maybe things never did change. Maybe the world is still as hostile as it ever was. One thing is for sure, and that is war has once again touched our nation's psyche. Our involvement in Afghanistan has shaped our country's image of itself - that we are no longer known as peacekeepers (much to the dismay of many). But ask any soldier and they will tell you that they are not just peacekeepers. They are first and foremost soldiers, and there is very little peace to keep these days.

This sad reality came home to me last Sunday. A young man from our church came home from a tour of duty in Afghanistan, and shared with the congregation some of his experiences as a part of our Remembrance Day service. I could tell it wasn't easy for him to tell his story; one time he and his fellow soldiers were ambushed in an alley by insurgents. A medic from Calgary was killed, his Sargent was wounded and bullets were whizzing by his head by an inch - literally. They were eventually extracted from the alley by reinforcements, but before then he was convinced that he was going to die. It was a very sobering tale for me, and no doubt for everyone else there. The fact that a good friend of mine and my oldest brother are both army reservists, who want to serve in Afghanistan, brings it home all the closer to me.

I believe that the Bible teaches personal passifisim - that if someone wrongs us we should not retaliate (Mathew 5:38-42). But God has also established the authority of governments and nations, with police and military forces to carry out justice and maintain social order (Romans 13:1-7). And while God allows wars to happen (which is in itself a huge topic that I won't go into here) there will come a time when all war shall cease and Christ will reign over the earth, bringing peace to the nations (Isaiah 2:1-4). Until then, we live in a brutal world where brutal things must happen for the greater good. There are things worth fighting for and even dying for, and that's why we honor our men and women in uniform. Today we remember those who fought and died for a greater good. And while we remember we pray for the day where "they will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks."

Home

It came quite suddenly to the both of us almost two weeks ago. It was that "we would know that we know that we know" moment someone had prayed over us in Kinship, almost two months ago. One day last week Angel & I just looked at each other and said, "We need to go home - to Calvary."

And that's what we did.

I think that it was building in us for a while before a few things happened. I had met with Greg recently, and it was so good to catch up with him. I missed our get-togethers where we would talk, share, pray and bounce our wacky sense of humor off each other. There was also the phone call from a man in our church who wanted to take me out for coffee, as he hadn't seen us around for a while. And then there was the e-mail invite to a wedding shower for Calvary's new youth pastor and his fiancée. It was a few days before the shower that we had our epiphany, so we decided to go there and break the news. What better way to reintegrate than at a party? When we arrived we felt a bit of apprehension (after all these were people we hadn't seen in two months) but also a sense of anticipation. Most of the people there regarded our presence with an "Oh, we haven't seen you in a while, catch you later" kind of welcome, which is ok. But with those we're better acquainted with, it was like a homecoming. And the news of our permanent return made them all the happier, which was a real blessing to us.

Yet we had one more Sunday at Harvest to attend, as we wanted to say goodbye to those we had started to build relationships with. It was funny how I felt a little sad about leaving; after all we were only there for eight weeks. And yet as Harry, our Kinship leader, said, "We're all one body in Christ." Wherever God's people come together, His love and power is present through each one. Looking back at our time at Harvest Vineyard I can say for myself that there was a healing that took place, but it happened more by osmosis rather than direct ministry by others. Come to think of it, there was direct ministry - but it was more by relationships than by asking for prayer or getting counsel from others. The way we were welcomed and loved by those we connected with made us feel valued, and that maybe we do have a place in God's kingdom. Just being there all those Sundays charged my spiritual batteries, and in every service I felt this one thing come to me: you are a shepherd; feed my sheep.

Now that's a bit of a paraphrase, as I'm reluctant to insert the "P" word in there. A boldness had been building during those weeks, that maybe my path isn't as cloudy as I think it is. Maybe it's time to get back on the horse. And yet falling off the horse hurts, and I don't want to get hurt - again. I'm afraid that if I do follow my heart I'll find disappointment again. I feel vulnerable, and I don't want to be vulnerable. I want to live a normal life! But I know that if I bury this sense of calling I become lost, and feel like I'm short-changing myself. I feel like God is pursuing me so that I pursue Him and His purpose for me. This pursuit was even more evident this morning, our first Sunday back at Calvary. The sermon was on spiritual parenting, and how we shouldn't neglect the gifts we have been given so that we can disciple others. And as I stood with the rest of the church, singing worship songs to God and each other, I looked around at all the familiar (and unfamiliar) faces who need shepherding. Maybe we are back so that I can get back on that horse again.

Maybe. But for now we're simply settling back into our church home. As surreal and uncertain it was for me this morning, it's good to be home.