Nobody Reads This Page – “Country Church”

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(1-24)

 

 

Growing up in the Ice household was an experience of contrasting worlds. We had a home library stocked with reference books of all sorts, Floyd Clymer manuals, classic editions of early EC comics, and novels by authors like Issac Asimov, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and Ray Bradbury. There were lots of vinyl albums to keep our Sears & Roebuck hi-fi busy. And copies of MAD magazine were everywhere, along with catalogs from J.C. Whitney, and issues of Mechanix Illustrated, stocked with wildly candid and verbose reviews by Tom McCahill. He smoked a pipe and looked stylish, yet accessible. I revered the courage of his freewheeling prose, a gift given without inhibitions.

 

Yet our primary focus was always upon serving the Lord Jesus Christ, with humility.

 

My father was a church pastor in a non-denominational fellowship. A product of the Stone-Campbell Restoration Movement, which dates back to the 19^th century in America. This tilt toward minimalist, fundamental principles worked well when we lived in rural communities around the Ohio Valley. But when the family moved north, to the area of cities such as Pittsburgh or Cleveland, we sometimes felt out of place. When commiserating with other students I met while receiving a public education, I would speak about things learned in Sunday School. And frequently, get skewered with a blank stare in response.

 

Recently, this vibe returned as I explained some of the C of C traditions to an acquaintance in my neighborhood. Feeling relaxed and at ease during polite conversation, I uttered two phrases that were common as I matured to adulthood. Admonitions that shaped how I viewed the important labor of faith and fidelity to the gospel. Lessons I learned over and over again while interacting with the flock:

 

“Faith without works is dead. God helps those that help themselves!”

 

The reaction I received brought back queasy emotions that echoed from yonder days. I remembered innocently repeating such words of wisdom, while surrounded by new friends who had come of age in Catholic or Orthodox academies, or Jewish institutions. Some even had a neo-atheist indifference to any belief in a higher power. The confusion that resulted was always a challenge to process. I was incredibly naïve. Only time and study let me center myself with maturity. I learned how not to offer opinions based on my own experiences, with a deference to diversity. Keeping my mouth closed steered me away from trouble. Saying what I had been taught out loud guaranteed that I would be beheld like a traveler from a distant land. Strange, unfamiliar, and decidedly odd.

 

This strategy violated what I had been taught, in principle. But it worked.

 

In the reality of today however, this momentary lapse into church recollections started wheels turning once again in my brain. I pondered both aphorisms from my formative years. Was there a literal connection to Biblical teachings, contained within? I needed to mentally revisit the sacred texts to be sure. Online resources helped me find my way. Eventually, I landed on Matthew 25: 14-30. What we had commonly referred to as ‘The Parable of the Talents.’ I found this familiar passage rendered in the New International Version:

 

“Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his wealth to them. To one he gave five bags of gold, to another two bags, and to another one bag, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. The man who had received five bags of gold went at once and put his money to work and gained five bags more. So also, the one with two bags of gold gained two more. But the man who had received one bag went off, dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them. The man who had received five bags of gold brought the other five. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘you entrusted me with five bags of gold. See, I have gained five more.’ His master replied ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’ The man with two bags of gold also came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘you entrusted me with two bags of gold; see I have gained two more.’ His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’ Then the man who had received one bag of gold came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your gold in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.’ His master replied, ‘You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest. So take the bag of gold from him and give it to the one who has ten bags. For whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them. And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’”

 

By the time I had finished reading, my head was bowed, and I felt a weight in the pit of my belly. I imagined my father speaking with authority, from his pulpit. God’s message to believers stood like a stone pillar against the horizon. For those who had received the gospel, and accepted the blessing of faith, their calling to act was clear. To sit still, like a woodland beast on a log, defied the power and glory of the ‘Great Commission.’ A charge given to all Christians, around the globe, later in the Book of Matthew:

 

“Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worship
ed him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.’”

 

Once again, I reflected on childhood platitudes learned so long ago. Action gives evidence of faith. Inaction damns the believer to wallow in doubt and isolation. By serving according to our abilities, as did each example with the talents of gold, we make ourselves ready to receive the grace of a loving creator. To fail with small things is to fail in everything.

 

One last scripture from Matthew came to mind, that illustrated the concept with righteous dignity:

 

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.’”

 

My birth into traditions of the Country Church may seem quaint and distant now, at times when I battle disability and social isolation. Yet now and then, they spring up like new shoots of grass, in the spring. Ever present, and always meaningful. Never completely lost amid the cares of everyday life. Only slumbering quietly until their return is needed. To reset my inner compass and point toward the celestial glow of a purpose distilled from these venerable documents of faith.