On June 1st, 2014 my home church celebrated their 120th birthday. Those unable to attend worship that day were asked to submit letters for the bulletin. In a nut shell (though it ended up being the biggest nut of the bulletin lol), this is what my home church means to me:
To My Friends and
Family of First Christian Church, Lake Charles,
I'm writing this
letter from my purple office housed at First Christian Church of Gainesville,
TX. Immediately in front of me hang my two Bachelor's degrees from TCU. To my
right is my 'Certificate of Ministry’, which declares that I am officially the
Reverend Penelope Erin Taylor. On my desk next to me lies the pink Bible given
to me on the day I was moved into Sue Grisby's Sunday school class as an
enthusiastic first grader. I sit hear in the midst of a dream come true and as
I reflect on what it took to get me to this point, I am left speechless and
humbled knowing that had it not been for First Christian Church of Lake
Charles, LA, I wouldn't know what it's like to dream dreams - much less achieve
them. This time next year I will be have completed my Masters of Divinity and
Brite Divinity School, my Master of Social Work from TCU, and most exciting of
all, preparing for my ordination (which will be in Lake Charles!). I said all
of that so that these two words will make sense.
Are you ready for
them? I mean REALLY ready? Is the excitement and anticipation wreaking havoc on
your nervous system? Okay... here it goes... ready or not...
THANK YOU.
Thank you. I could
say it a million times and it still wouldn't be enough. Lately I've been
thinking about the story of Jonah and what that says about our own adventures
and destinations. Instead of looking at Jonah becoming the temporary snack for
a large fish as punishment, I think of it as an alternative mode of transportation.
God know where Jonah needed to be and was willing to do whatever it took to get
him there. It may have not been the vehicle Jonah would have chosen, but
nevertheless he got to where he needed to be. I think about what all it took to
get me here - serving as a pastor on the cusp of graduation and ordination -
and I thank God that First Christian Church of Lake Charles, LA swallowed me
up, nurtured me, got me to where I needed to be, and spit me out across the
Texas state line.
I have many
incredible memories of our church. I can remember being a toddler and Victor
Sedinger asking a family to come to the front of the church for a baby
dedication. Assuming that this meant ALL babies, I carried my baby doll up to
the front of the church… except for me the front of the church wasn’t the
chancel – it was the door by the nursery – and off I bolted down the hall,
ready to dedicate my baby. I can remember the sheer embarrassment and guilt of
leaning against the pew while wearing my elephant backpack and hearing the all
to familiar, “ROOOOAAAAR!!!” coming from my back. I can remember Doug Moore
asking us during a children’s sermon if any of us had dogs to which I quickly
blurted out, “YES! But she is buried in the backyard!” I can remember
delivering my first children’s sermon at the ripe age of 10 years old… except
Josh Bradley was the only other person there to hear it and he is actually
three months older than I am. I can remember a MUCH smaller Clint and a smaller
Conner and how they used to fight to sit on my lap during church. Thankfully
now that they’re bigger than I am, they don’t fight about that anymore. I can
remember being baptized by Linda Hopkins, crying my eyes out with Lucy and
Chris Maier moved to Fort Worth – little did I know we would be going to the
same church in just a few short years. I can remember preaching for the first
time at 14, praying in the parking lot before heading off to camp, spending
many summer morning helping Stacy fold bulletins and newsletters (and feeling
super cool for being able to hang out with Stacy on a non-Sunday!), borrowing
change from my Grandma to buy a Coke during our many fellowship luncheons, and
of course, calling David Van Heyningen one morning when he forgot about the
time change and was LATE for church… on EASTER! Some of these memories are
incredibly joyful and silly – like hiding in the baptistery during a JYF
lock-in’s rousing game of sardines – and some of these memories are much
heavier and powerful – like having the distinct honor of officiating the funeral
of my dear Grandma, Wilma Taylor, last fall in the very sanctuary that I used
to run and play in (just never while any Elders were watching!).
Our church family
has nurtured me in my call to ministry, loved me when I needed it most, helped
me develop necessary ministry skills, challenged me, celebrated with me, and
mourned with me. The journey is not over, and there are still many, many
destinations waiting for that big fish to spit me out and give me something to
do. My ministry is a reflection of my home church that so faithfully nurtured
me in my youth and supports me in my adulthood (probably should have warned you
to be sitting down when you hear me referred to as an adult…). I pray that my
ministry will be honoring of my roots and all of those I serve will learn about
the love and grace practiced at First Christian Church of Lake Charles, LA. This
church, this family, this sacred and holy ground, means more to me than I could
ever express and so I leave you with these two words again:
THANK YOU.
May God continue to
bless the church on the corner of 2nd Avenue and 17th
Street and may we have another 120 years of ministry together.
See y’all this time
next year for my ordination!
With all of my
love,
Rev. Penelope Erin
Taylor (and all of her many stuffed animals who frequented the church over the
years)
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