The Community

1/6/1996

But admonish one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.Hebrews 3:13

7

THAT EVENING, forty miles west of the city in the small community of Pine Ridge, a bonfire blazed. The air was crisp, and there was just enough bite in the northeast wind to force the donning of warmer clothes. The sun was disappearing over the horizon as an old pickup loaded with rakes and bags of leaves pulled into the Stones’ driveway. Several of the men had spent the afternoon raking leaves for some widows in the neighborhood. The truck was quickly surrounded by a mob of children, wives, and friends of the tired, hungry men.

At first glance, one might have thought it was a family reunion. The fifty people gathered in the Stones’ backyard had been playing volleyball and preparing dinner. After the new arrivals washed up, the family of believers gathered together to offer a word of thanksgiving.

This was a rare group of Christians. They had come to this city from many places throughout the country, desiring closer fellowship with believers who were serious about putting New Testament Christianity into practice. They gathered together continually and sought to share all things in common — not in an external or legal way, but case-by-case, from the heart.

Times like these were frequent. As they enjoyed the evening together, people milled around in small circles, talking about the day’s events. The children played together while several women finished clearing the picnic tables.

As the last bit of sunlight faded away, everyone began gathering around the glow of the campfire. Worship filled the air as the firelight inspired a voice to begin singing.

It wasn’t unusual for these people to sing and pray together. It happened often and spontaneously, not limited to certain places or pre-arranged services.

This community of saints had been together for seven years. They had long since given up on “Sunday-morning Christianity” and had decided together to plunge into the adventure of “Body life.” Those who were able had moved into a lower middle-class neighborhood, filled mostly with elderly retirees or lower income families. By living close to each other, it was their desire to learn how to love each other in the practical, daily circumstances of life, and to serve their community. Those content to be an audience listening to moral sermonettes each weekend found this kind of commitment radical and unnecessary. This group of believers found it exhilarating. To them it was not optional — Jesus had commanded it.

By the time the fire died down, a few tears had been shed and all agreed it had been a peaceful time together. Since many young eyes were noticeably droopy, they decided to call it a night. Some loaded strollers for the walk home, while others firmed up last minute plans for tomorrow’s various activities. The hum of quiet conversation continued until all were inside their modest homes. That is, almost all — two brothers engaged in an exciting new topic hardly noticed that the once-crowded lawn was now empty.

“…and you’re not going to believe this either…the old Turner place just went up for sale.”

LATER THAT WEEK, a steady flow of believers filed into Alan and Marsha Hart’s large living room. People sat wall-to-wall, up the stairs, spilling into the kitchen.

“Good morning, everybody! Sorry to drag you all out of your homes so early this Saturday morning. Anybody a little curious as to why we’re all here?” Alan paused for effect.

“C’mon. Don’t torture us any longer. Just what are you guys up to?”

Alan Hart flashed a mischievous look toward his cohorts Brian Stephens and Ted Stone. “Are you sure I can’t get anyone some coffee? Ted, what about you?”

Ted Stone shot back another teasing look and Brian cleared his throat as if he would give the whole thing away.

“Okay, okay.” Alan finally dropped the show and started talking in his more professional tone to which everyone was accustomed. “I wanted to fill you in on a pretty exciting opportunity in front of us. Do you all remember Aaron and Kathy Richardson from out east? Most of you realize they share in our desire to be a part of a Biblical functioning Church.” Alan sat down. “As you know, they’ve been wanting to move here for some time now, but they’ve been unable because of financial difficulties. Well, it seems that God may be making it possible for them to come to Pine Ridge now — but perhaps in a way we hadn’t expected.”

“But Aaron has a broken leg.”

“Yeah, and he’s a construction worker.”

“Besides, there aren’t any houses available close by. Even if there were, it wouldn’t be big enough for all seven of them.”

Ted gave a light whistle, trying to calm the objections.

“It would be big enough…if we built it big enough.” This time, Alan’s comment was answered with silence. The whole room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of the explanation.

It was Brian Stephens who unveiled the secret at last. “Well, I got a call this week asking if we knew anyone interested in the old Turner house.” He waited for the eager nods to subside before he continued. “It’s up for sale. It’s no mystery that the house hasn’t been lived in for years and is in really bad shape. It would need to be completely renovated.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll just be real honest with you — the Richardsons are in no place, financially, to do this. But they are only going to get into more debt where they are. So if we really believe God wants them in Pine Ridge, we’re going to have to be the ones to make it happen. Do we all agree God wants them here? If not, please speak up.”

Brian waited several moments before continuing. “Okay, if that’s the case, then, realistically speaking, this is going to require a lot of sacrifice on our part. Time, money and energy from each individual here will be needed to pull this whole thing off. Alan’s been able to push some things through, and it looks like he could purchase the house at a good price. However, that won’t cover the cost of fixing it all up.”

Alan Hart took over. “Now, nothing has been said to the Richardsons about all this. We felt like we’d better ask all of you if you are really interested in doing this. We’re talking about a big commitment that will keep us busy for the next two or three months. We need to know up front if this is something you really want to do.

Alan’s wife, Marsha, called out enthusiastically from the kitchen, “I say let’s do it!”

Carolyn Stone eyed her husband, Ted, and added, “In some way or another, each of us has paid a price to be here together in Pine Ridge — whether it’s jobs, money or relationships. I like the idea of making the way a little easier for someone else.”

“So does that mean this is a go?” Alan scanned the excited faces.

“GO!”

“NAILS, HAMMERS, power drill, drywall…okay. That seems like enough to get started. Hey, Ted, can you give one of your famous country-boy whistles to let everyone know we’re ready to get started?”

The last part of Alan’s question was drowned out by the deafening call. Everyone within earshot came running, recognizing the sound with warm familiarity. Those nearby stood with heads tilted, rubbing their ears, trying to recover. People came out from all corners of the old house, and a couple of boys jumped through a broken window.

“Hey, we’re going to have enough things to do without you guys tearing down that window sill. But we do have a wall upstairs that needs to come down, so wait around and we’ll give you some work to do soon enough.” Brian smiled at the boys.

Once the laughter subsided, Alan spoke up. “It looks like we’re all ready to get started. As you can see, we were not exaggerating when we talked about the amount of work we’ll need to do over the next three months. We have organized a list of jobs into three different categories according to skill level. So at this point, there isn’t a lot to talk about. Just refer to that list over on the east wall. Talk to Brian, the Assistant Renovations Director, if you have any questions.”

A few chuckles ensued, and Brian rolled his eyes. The list was mobbed instantly. After several minutes, Alan noticed his wife standing next to Carolyn Stone at the front of the line. Alan smiled, confident that whatever job Marsha tackled would undergo a miraculous transformation.

“I guess you know which category we fall under?” Carolyn taunted playfully.

“Yep,” Marsha replied.

“UNSKILLED,” they said in emphasized unison, now laughing.

“I’m surprised they didn’t create a special category just for you, Marsha,” Carolyn teased. “Disaster Control Specialist.”

“Very funny,” Marsha grinned.

“Well, what shall it be…scraping wallpaper or trash detail?”

“What about this,” Marsha pointed enthusiastically at the last item on the list. “Clean out upstairs closet.”

“Sure. Sounds like it’s right up our alley.”

Marsha grabbed a broom and a roll of trash bags. “We’ll have this house ready in no time.”

“And then the Richardsons can move in,” Carolyn added. “I want to work hard, as a gift to them.”

The two women mounted the creaky staircase and found their assignment. It was a large, walk-in closet at the end of a long hallway, filled with mildewed rags and moth-eaten sweaters. Marsha bounded into the closet, scouring the wall for a light switch. She let out a piercing scream and emerged back into the hallway, visibly shaken.

“What’s wrong?” Carolyn was alarmed.

“Something ran across my foot,” Marsha replied a bit sheepishly.

Carolyn found a light switch and swept the cobwebs out of the way with Marsha’s broom. Then the women began to fill trash bag after trash bag with old dresses, crumpled scarves and rotting shoe leather.

“I wonder what Mrs. Turner was like,” Carolyn mused, holding up a slipper. “Does anyone know how long she lived alone before she moved into the nursing home?”

“I don’t think so,” Marsha said absently. “Look at all this dirt!” she exclaimed. “This whole place needs to be hosed down.”

Carolyn was looking at a torn photograph she found lying in a corner. “I wonder if she had any friends.”

Marsha looked up, puzzled. “Who?”

“Mrs. Turner.”

“Oh. Well, if she did, they sure didn’t clean for her.”

“And now she’s gone. Life is so short, Marsha.” Carolyn was still gazing at the old photograph. “I really want to make it count.”

A nearby wall came crashing down with the help of several strong men. Carolyn excused herself and went across the street to check on her daughter. She found Marie napping soundly in her travel crib, while several of the sisters prepared lunch for the other children they were watching.

8

FFFFFFFTTT! The broadhead arrow sailed over an unsuspecting doe. Its brief flight terminated abruptly as it sank deep into the bark of an ancient oak. The doe lifted her head from her foraging, motionless and wide-eyed.

Not even daring to breathe, Ted Stone waited in silence for the doe to again lower her head. When she did, Ted quickly prepared another arrow and drew back the cable until the cams in the compound bow were poised. He leveled the sight, aiming for the tuft of hair behind her forequarter.

“Ted,”Alan whispered. “Look.” Ted’s arrow left the bow prematurely and buried itself at the feet of the startled doe. She leapt fluidly into the brush and was gone.

Ted spun around, flush with frustration. Now crouching, Alan held up three fingers on his left hand and pointed over his shoulder at three bucks directly behind their tree stand. His eyes confessed his shame at blowing the opportunity. Ted flashed a forgiving expression accompanied by a quick nod.

Ted moved quietly and deliberately as he prepared to dispatch another arrow. He slowly retrieved an arrow from the floor of the stand, careful to keep an eye on his new target. For a split second he allowed his eyes to dart to his bow. A rustle of leaves and his prey bounded back down the trail. Gone.

“YOU SEE, YOU HOLD THE KNIFE this way. Don’t force it, Alan, let the blade do the work.” Don Chambers, one of the first members of the community, stood with Alan Hart in front of the makeshift rack that held Don’s kill for the day. He was giving Alan his first lesson in cleaning a deer. Don was thorough, covering every detail and obviously enjoying every minute of his lecture.

“I showed Ted how to do this last year. Too bad he won’t be able to get some practice in this season.”

Good-natured chuckles percolated from the circle of men that finished dinner around the camp fire. Ted rolled his eyes at Brian as if to say, “Oh no, here it comes…”

“Funny, don’t you think — one of the best athletes in the whole Church can’t get the hang of a little thing like shooting an arrow straight?”

Ted was used to Don’s ribbing. He shook his head in mock regret. “I thought for sure I would get one this year. Especially after buying all that expensive equipment you talked me into, Don! From the way you made it sound, all I had to do was bring that bow out here and it would track and kill the deer for me.”

“That way, I get to borrow it when he gets too frustrated to use it.” Don whispered to Alan with a sly wink.

“It was my fault,” Alan finally apologized. “I startled a doe that would have been a sure kill.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” Brian cut in. “They’re just sparring with each other. Ted’s not upset. He’s made it quite clear he doesn’t care for hunting. If we weren’t here, he wouldn’t be here.”

“I’ll do anything to get some time with these guys,” Ted confirmed. “Even if it means wandering around these frigid woods for a day or two.”

In reality, Ted was glad to be out there. He was a sportsman and a competitor. He just didn’t like to lose, and last year’s hunting adventure had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. Not only had he failed to bring home any meat, as Don frequently reminded him, but he had never even seen anything, except Don’s catch.

Now football was a completely different matter. As the assistant coach of a winning and prominent high school football team, Ted had enjoyed his share of winning. His down-to-earth, big-hearted personality made him a favorite with the boys he coached.

Ted smiled to himself as he thought about the times he had enjoyed with these brothers. He watched the shivering Alan make his way to the fire to get warm as the circle of brothers broke up and began cleaning the few pans and utensils they had brought for meals. The shadows were low, and the last bit of daylight was noticeably fading. They each began laying out their bedroll for the night, as close to the fire as caution would allow.

Alan thought out loud, addressing anyone who would listen. “I love being out here like this. Everything is still and quiet. As you look up through the trees, the branches make the oddest patterns against the sky. They play with your imagination. There’s no sense of rushing or schedules. Everything is free to live as God intended.”

“That’s how God has made us to live, Alan. Free and unhindered,” Don added.

“He sure is generous to let us live that way together.” Alan let the reality of his own words sink in. “I’m really glad I let you guys talk me in to coming out here.”

“Yep. It just doesn’t get any better than this.”

“C’mon, Don, you sound like a beer commercial,” Ted said. “You’ve been watching too many football games.”

As Alan slipped eagerly into the inviting warmth of his sleeping bag, he yelped when he felt something like a water balloon next to him in his bag.

“Looks like Alan is this year’s victim of Don’s deer liver joke.” They tossed the organ from one guy to the other as Brian shouted, “Hot liver, hot liver, who’s got the hot liver.” After a few minutes of raucous laughter, the men decided it was time to settle down and get some sleep.

“Can you imagine the women doing this?” Laughter followed.

“Guys, it just doesn’t get any better than this!”

The night became colder, but the fire’s embers would burn for several more hours. One at a time the men drifted off to sleep.

9

IT WAS ALMOST 9:45 on Tuesday morning. “I can’t believe it!” Carolyn mumbled to herself. “I’m already fifteen minutes late, and now the phone!” Juggling a fussy, little Marie in one arm, Carolyn debated whether to just let it ring. Finally, she grabbed the phone.

“Hello, Carolyn…this is Teresa.”

Carolyn heaved a sigh. “Shhh, shhh, Marie…Teresa?…Teresa who?” Her thoughts were scrambling. She heard the name but wrestled momentarily to place the voice. She brightened as she realized it was Teresa, her college roommate. “Teresa Parker! I can’t believe it. How are you? How’s Steve? It’s so good to hear your voice!”

It was good to hear her voice. Carolyn relaxed a little as affection flooded her mind. The warmth flowed from two years of college memories — sharing a suite, all-night study sessions, and late nights of just talking and praying together. Though Carolyn didn’t realize it, there was a longing in her for the closeness of those days — sharing everything from heartaches to dirty laundry. However, as with many college relationships, it didn’t last. Carolyn and Teresa had both since married and drifted apart. They had little regular contact, though they had settled less than an hour apart.

“Oh, Carolyn, it’s good to hear your voice, too. I can’t believe it’s been so long since we last talked. Is that…Marie I hear? How old is she now?”

“Yeah, that’s my Marie. She’s almost a year old, although today she’s acting like she’s hit the terrible two’s!”

Remembering the women waiting next door, Carolyn almost offered to call Teresa back later. She changed her mind after hearing Teresa’s unexpected question.

“Anyway, I know there’s a lot to catch up on, but I was actually wondering if I could ask a few questions about your Church.”

Carolyn was pleasantly surprised. “Really, like what?” She always enjoyed talking about their life together in Pine Ridge.

“Here at Metro Chapel,” Teresa continued, “we’re doing things a little differently these days, and it reminded me of you guys. I don’t know if you’re familiar with home groups, but Metro has gotten so large, and this new home group idea really seems to be the answer to Steve’s and my prayers for closer fellowship. Have you ever heard of home groups?”

“Yes.” Carolyn wasn’t quite sure where this was heading. “I have heard of them…but I don’t know a whole lot about them.”

“I don’t either, to tell the truth. But, the leadership here at Metro is considering breaking the whole congregation into smaller groups. Maybe seven families each, based on where we live and our age brackets. You know, putting us in touch with people who go to Metro and live right in our own neighborhood…kind of like you guys. That’s why I called you. I’m on the Research Committee. We’re investigating ideas and are going to present our findings to the leadership. We’re probably still six to nine months away from actually starting anything. Steve and I can’t wait. We’re excited about the possibility of building deeper relationships at Metro.” Carolyn lodged the phone between her shoulder and ear. She leaned down, set Marie on the carpet and found herself a seat as Teresa continued, “Like I said, it really seems like an answer to prayer. Metro has grown so much in the last three years, it has been hard to keep up with all the new faces. And since we moved into our new house, it’s such a long drive across town to be with the folks we know well. Isn’t that neat? We might even be able to link up with people right here on our own street.”

Marie, unwilling to play on her own, was crying, pulling at her mom’s pant leg. Carolyn picked up her little princess. She had long since given up on getting to the reading next door on time and was actually delighted to hear Teresa’s excitement.

“Wow. It certainly sounds like a step in the right direction, Teresa. But I’m not sure exactly how I can help. You already know Ted and I moved into our neighborhood to be with the people in the Church here. God has shown us how important it is to be ‘joined and knit’ to people — like the Bible says. To walk daily, in close fellowship with his people…you know we’re together every day—”

“Yep,” Teresa interrupted, “I remember you telling me something about all that! That’s what I’m talking about. It’s so hard with our busy schedules. How will we find the time?”

“Yes,” Carolyn laughed, “I know what you mean. It can be hard with busy schedules. But the time is there if you know where to find it. It’s a matter of priorities. It depends on what is most important for everyone. Around here, for example, the men gather together one morning a week before work for breakfast and to spend time in prayer together. The women meet together, too, although it is a little more difficult with the children. Often, we moms like to plan special time in the week just for the children.”

She was interrupted by a sharp rap on her kitchen window. It was Marsha Hart. “Should we wait?” Carolyn heard Marsha’s voice filtered by the glass.

Carolyn shook her head, waved Marsha on and continued, “Sometimes we go to a park or McDonald’s, or sometimes we take the older children to a matinee. We try to set aside Monday nights for concentrated family time, but most nights we’re all together somewhere around here. Sunday is automatically family day for the whole Church. We usually get together in the morning for worship and then have a big lunch together. The rest of the day is spent together somehow. I don’t know if that helps much but, you know, finding the time really does work out if you’re committed to each other.”

“I see what you mean,” Teresa said thoughtfully. “We know it’s going to take more sacrifice on our part if we really want to care about these new people. We believe God is calling us to a new level of commitment. I just know this home group idea is the answer. I hope the people we’re grouped with are hungry for fellowship like Steve and I.”

“Me too, Teresa. But if they aren’t, you will know soon enough.”

“You’re right.”

“Was there something else on your mind?” Carolyn asked, sensing the conversation was already tapering off.

“No, not right now. If I think of some more, do you mind if I call back?”

“No. Please do. I’ll be praying for you.”

“I knew you would. Goodbye for now.”