One of the things I did when I retired was to clean out some file drawers. I still have more things in them than I will ever use, and most I will never actually look at again. Yet, in the sorting process, I did find a few gems. I found some photos which carry some personal value. I found pictures taken in Haiti, from very early trips. I found a few snapshots of my children when they were young. Others include church events and the like.

I also found a couple of articles from Christian Standard that I penned, and Dorothy Baker gave me. Where she got them, I have no idea. One was entitled, “Generic, No Name Preachers.” In it I talked about a friends comment about his large church ending up with someone not very well known as their preacher. As I was not very well known, I reflected on that thought. The other was a meditation I did for communion. It was simple entitled, “Hands.” I talked about the story the scars on my hands tell about me: the wringer washer I got my hand in when I was five, the top of the Christmas tree I tried to cut off with a pen knife, or the fingertip I am missing from an encounter with a lawn mower. I concluded by sharing my thoughts on the nail-scared hands of Jesus.

One particularly valuable find was a church newsletter dated May 13, 1993. I had been hired as the new minister but was not due to arrive until June. I did, however, send ahead the first installment of “Bruce’s Page . . .” That would serve as the cover for our church’s monthly newsletter until we quit publishing it after twenty-plus years. I reproduce that page here and will reflect on it afterwards.

With this letter we embark together on an adventure. You will note the name at the top of the page, “Bruce’s Page.”  This is my page. On this page of every newsletter, I hope to challenge you, inform you, inspire you, well, al least I hope that I am interesting enough that you will read it occasionally. Through the months and years, I will tell you stories, like the time I was a football star, though I never really played in any games. I will tell you about my family. I will particularly mention my children, after all they are a little strange and make great illustrations. And I will tell you stories about you.

The purpose of all this is not simple to entertain, but to give you some idea of the things that I value. Through this page I want you to learn what makes a Christian strong or a church wise. I will try and talk about prayer and pain and problems. I hope to mix victory and defeat, joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure. This one thing I will promise. The agenda for this page will not be my personal agenda. It will not be a place to tell you how I think you ought to feel or what you ought to do, only how I feel, and only what I do. You may feel free to learn from me or dismiss my ideas as cornball.

for now, this is my prayer. May we grow together as God’s people. May we learn to love one another and our Lord Jesus. May we make Shelton Christian Church the kind of place what God will trust with His own children. I anticipate great and wonderful things for the kingdom. See you in a couple of weeks.

Bruce

As I reflect on the thirty years plus since I penned those words, I find myself doing some self-examination. I admit I set a few high goals. And several more achievable ones. I did use those pages to tell stories of my spiritual journey. They served a similar role as this blog (and I am trying to share more here, especially as I no longer have “Bruce’s Page” to share that journey). I believe we accomplished, only with God’s help and guidance, to do some wonderful things for the kingdom. And I feel like I fell short of some of the ideas expressed that day. Yet, through it all (and I had no idea at the time I would last thirty years) I come away from my time as the minister of Shelton Christian Church with more victories than defeats, more joys than sorrows. We helped lots of people draw closer to God. People became workers in the kingdom, both here and as they went out from us to other places.

And I guess the other lesson I haven’t learned, but should, is to watch out what you put in print. It might just come back to haunt you. Then again, this is my journey and my desire is to always be honest about where that journey takes me.