Huntersville - United States

Once, I visited a church renowned for its very rapid growth. I was curious about what the congregation was doing to attract huge numbers of people to its services. It was a Church of Christ, a small, conservative denomination about which I knew little except that they did not believe in using musical instruments in worship.

On April 16, gospel music's George Beverly Shea died. He was 104 years old. Like millions of others, I claimed him as a friend. To have millions of friends sounds impossible doesn't it?

Not at all. Not when there's in your presence a person with a larger-than-life personality, great personal faith, wonderful singing voice, songs in his or her heart and a worldwide platform. Bev Shea was my friend and I was privileged to know him up close and personal. So I am celebrating.

Jerri Haigler of Huntersville is vice president of United Way of Central Carolina, so it comes as no surprise that she is a compassionate, caring person. She was traveling down a country road in Union County near Marshville recently after attending a relative's funeral.

"An older man was sitting in his car off the side of the road with his flashers on," says Jerri. "After I passed him, my 79-year-old mother asked if I thought he was okay and should we check on him. Generally, she is worrying about me (at the age of 47) driving at night or driving alone. After I turned around and stopped to ask if he was okay or needed help, he explained that he was having a 'little bit of a mental breakdown.'

"I told him I could call someone for him or we could talk.

"He said, 'No. I just need to make it to my home in Marshville.'

"I offered to follow him home, and he said he would be okay. I told him I would pray for him, and he said, 'I'll be praying for you, too.'

"As I started to pull away, he said, 'Ma'am, you'll never know how much it meant that you stopped.'

"All week, I have been praying for the 'little old man in Marshville.' Unfortunately, there probably have been many more 'little old men or women' that I have hurriedly passed by or had my mind on something else and didn't notice them in need. My prayer is that God will open my eyes daily to those around me."

Jerri inspired me with this simple story of mindfulness. It reminded me of the passage in the 25th chapter of Matthew's gospel. This is the only place in the Bible where Jesus is quoted at length about the ultimate basis upon which we will be evaluated as how we have lived our lives. It is that memorable image of the Last Judgment when the sheep are separated from the goats. The sheep will receive their great reward and the goats will get their just desserts. It all boils down to how we treat other people, and especially how we treat those who are suffering. In fact, he says, "That is when you meet me. You will care for me when you care for one of the least of these suffering ones."

That is a powerful challenge. If we do not care for the least among us, we will be counted among the goats. And miss our great opportunity. What we are forced to do — if we want to respond to Jesus — is look for him in everyone we meet.

Now, we all know that there is a lot of trouble in this world. Division and hostility among people is a plague upon us all. And that is something that troubles us all. But we also know it would solve a multitude of our woes if we could just begin to mend our relationships with our own friends and neighbors. The critical proximity we have with those whom we genuinely love sometimes erupts in harsh words and cruel expressions that erode our humanity and damage our relationships.

So, I just wanted this week to say a good word for mindfulness! Let us be on the lookout for a visit from the Holy in everyone we meet — especially the suffering, the poor, the despised. Let us not give in to the temptation to become despisers of persons. That is a sure way, when the score of our lives is finally settled, to find ourselves among the goats and not the sheep!

I know I'm being preachy, but you know me. That's just the way I get sometimes. Love to you all!

Harold Bales is a semi-retired Methodist minister. For more information, visit HYPERLINK "http://www.TheSouthernFried-Preacher.com" www.TheSouthernFried-Preacher.com. Send him an e-mail at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .a

Jerri Haigler of Huntersville is vice president of United Way of Central Carolina, so it comes as no surprise that she is a compassionate, caring person. She was traveling down a country road in Union County near Marshville recently after attending a relative's funeral.

The season of Lent and Holy Week are particularly sobering times for Christians. Lent is a time for reflection upon one's patterns of life, spiritual values and the meaning of faith. Then Holy Week proceeds through a series of recollections of the events in Jerusalem leading to Easter. The triumphal entry of Jesus riding on a colt into the Holy City on what has come to be called Palm Sunday begins the climactic week.

The challenge on that day rested heavily on the young, untamed donkey. He was forced to resist the temptation to believe that the celebration and the cheering of the crowds was for him. Then, there was the Last Supper of Jesus with his disciples, the betrayal by one of those close associates, an arrest and conviction in a kangaroo court. Capital punishment by crucifixion followed.

Christians who love the traditional liturgies and hymnody of the church find the great hymns of the Passion of Christ particularly moving during these days. There is a old Latin hymn translated into English in 1656, "O Sacred Heart, Now Wounded," that touches me deeply. The writer is unknown: "O sacred heart, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down, now scornfully surrounded with thorns, thine only crown; how pale thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn! How does that visage languish which once was bright as morn!"

What turned out to be my most memorable Good Friday — the day commemorating the crucifixion of Jesus — had almost ended when my phone rang at 9 p.m. It was a man who had found my name on the sign in front of the church where I was the pastor. He called information, got my telephone number, and dialed it. He was suicidal and wanted to talk with a pastor.

I quickly learned that he was from a city 200 miles away. He had come to our city to die because he had spent some happy times there years earlier. Within minutes, I asked if I could speak with him face-to-face. He agreed and invited me to meet him at a café near the hotel where he was staying.

When I arrived, I met a middle-aged man. He was well-groomed, dignified and clearly distressed. We sat and nursed cups of coffee as I listened to his story. He was a physician who was in the final stages of AIDS. He confessed that he had lived a promiscuous lifestyle. Despite his medical training, he had put himself at great risk, gambled and lost. Now, he was near the end and because of estrangement with his family, he had come to our city to die alone. I learned also that he was a lover of great music and an organist as well. He told me that his happiest times in life had been serving as organist in his church back home. It was then that I asked him, "Where in the world would you most like to be tonight?"

He replied, "I would like to be Rome attending one of those sorrowful old operas. Then I would like to go to a cathedral and play the great pipe organ."
I said to him, "I cannot offer you opera. However, I can offer you a cathedral church and a great pipe organ." Moments later, we were in the sanctuary of the church where I was pastor. In the darkness, I sat in a pew and he sat on the organ bench. He began to play the great Passion hymns. The ambient light from street lamps filtered through the stained-glass windows. I had never before heard such music from the organ! He wept as he rattled the room with the force of his music. Finally, I wept as he played "O Sacred Heart Now Wounded."

I asked him to come soon and visit me at my office. He said he would and he thanked me. I never saw him again. But I cannot shake those words nor the notes of that great hymn during this Holy Week.

Have a joyful Easter. That's the rest of the story!

Harold Bales is a semi-retired Methodist minister. For more information, visit www.TheSouthernFried-Preacher.com. Send him an e-mail at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .

]I think one of the most under-appreciated jobs around is that of the church secretary. In my many years as a minister, I have had wonderful secretaries. They are important glue that helps hold the church together. We don't say "Thank you!" often enough to them.

Once I became remorseful for taking my secretary for granted. So I wrote on a memo pad this line from an old country song and left it on her desk: "Have I told you lately that I love you?" Next morning I saw it framed and hanging on the wall above her desk. Sometimes we preachers can be impatient, distracted and difficult colleagues.

Once I gave a speech to a conference of church secretaries. They invited me to choose my subject. I titled my speech: "How to Knock Off Your Boss, Make and Win a Claim of Justifiable Homicide, Become a Hero at the Office, and Win Three Cheers from God." I began by offering a few suggestions for how to get along if you are a working secretary in any organization:

If it rings, put it on hold.

If it clangs, call the repairman.

If it whistles, ignore it;

Or slap it;

Or sue it.

If it's a friend, take a break.

If it's the boss, look busy.

If it talks, take notes.

If it's handwritten, type it.

If it's typed, copy it.

If it's copied, file it.

If it's Friday, forget it!

Then I suggested that the beleaguered church secretary working with an overbearing preacher fight back by messing with that minister's mind.

When you are typing the weekly sermons, insert in parentheses a few random thoughts that the parson might want to say but never would. For example: "Take that crying baby out of the sanctuary." Or, "The offering from this cheap-looking crowd won't pay the electric bill today." Or, "That's the ugliest hairstyle I have ever seen." You will make the preacher think you have developed extrasensory perception — the ability to read minds — and the gifts of prophecy and discernment. It will cause you to be treated with greater respect.

Ask for a raise in salary whenever the church bulletin reports that the Sunday offering exceeded the "weekly needs." When the preacher explains that the church is teetering on bankruptcy despite that good offering, pretend that you don't understand.

I say, "Hooray for church secretaries!" They are, themselves, genuine ministers. They handle delicate and confidential information in trustworthy ways. They inform, they console, they solve problems, they organize, they serve.

If you haven't done it lately, give the secretary at your church a kind word of thanks this week. If you are a leader in your church, propose that the secretary get a raise. If you are the preacher, take the secretary to lunch and say thanks. You, the secretary and God know what nobody else knows. The church secretary is the main person who makes you the fabulously successful preacher you are!

Harold Bales is a semi-retired Methodist minister. For more information, visit www.TheSouthernFried-Preacher.com. Send him an e-mail at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .

Preachers have hard times sometimes. A preacher's life is not all tasty potluck suppers. And ministerial discounts at the cash register disappeared long ago.

An old pal of mine, the Rev. T. Sisyphus Hump, is minister at Last Straw Church. He has always had a hard row to hoe. Even as a child he was bothered by his nickname, "Sissy." Then when he was 10 years old he had his tonsils removed and he had a sudden burst of growth and could whip anybody who called him that. So, his buddies began to call him "Fussy." He added the initial T himself when he went to college. He thought it was more dignified.

Every year for the past 50 years, at this season, I have written a piece titled "This Easter." In each I have pondered the state of the world in which the Easter message is rehearsed once again.