Went to presbytery meeting today. Presbytery is the local governing body of the church, covering a geographic area that's larger than a city, smaller than a state. The ministers and elders get together periodically because the Presbyterian Church is a connectional church--we're beholden to one another, rather than being little autonomous congregations out there on our own. It's mostly nice and sometimes irritating to be joined to these generally good but sometimes weird and occasionally mean-as-snakes people that you wouldn't necessarily choose as your community. We have our ultra-conservatives, and our ultra-liberals, but most of the church comprises the moderate middle, just trying to serve God best they can, and quite loath to go around damnin' people to hell for stuff.

Last time I went to presbytery, we made a presentation to the teen-age children of an Indonesian minister who had been a member of our presbytery. The minister and his wife had died in a car accident, leaving these three kids behind. I don't even remember what we presented to them--probably a nice plaque giving thanks for his life and ministry, and a monetary gift to the children. Big whoop. I do remember that the three of them spoke so eloquently about their awareness of God's presence and comfort even in this difficult time, and I was flabbergasted because they seemed to mean it and I'm not sure I would have in their situation.

What I remember even more clearly is that when they were finished speaking, all of a sudden the entire presbytery began singing the funeral hymn,
"For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
who thee by faith before the world confessed,
thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!"

Nobody started it. We were all just suddenly singing it. How does that happen? How does a group of several hundred people suddenly start singing impromptu and unannounced?


This presbytery meeting it was the peanut man.

The peanut man visits us every year to bring greetings and to thank us for supporting his ministry, a children's home and program for mentally challenged adults. If one didn't know the location of his program, it would be apparent the moment he opened his mouth--"downstate." His accent is so thick and he speaks so slowly that it takes considerable mental effort for me not to dismiss this man as a little dim. Which is in itself unbelievably stupid and snobbish on my part, and I tell you this as a way of atoning for my arrogance.

The truth is this man is bright, mentally and spiritually, and so sweet and pure he makes me want to cry. He comes every year and makes awkward jokes and tells the same stories of transformation and hope, and puts up a posterboard display with pictures and flyers, and I imagine him putting this display together beforehand, snipping the pictures and mounting them on the foam board like kids do every year for the science fair. And I imagine him making the drive with the posterboard in the trunk of his car because sometimes when you care deeply about something and Someone, you are called to mundane tasks. Brother Lawrence "flips the omelet over in the pan for the love of God." This man comes up here to make a five minute presentation and to stand by his posterboard for the love of God.

And he sells his peanuts, which help support his ministry and are incredibly tasty. I don't know why I am so moved by this man, but my heart goes out to him as I sit and listen, and a few rows ahead of me I see another minister in this presbytery, and he has "preacher's hair"--do you know what preacher's hair is? Think mousse and a blow-dryer. I can't believe we have a man with preacher's hair in our presbytery, but we do, and he is also listening intently to the peanut man. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder if he is wondering, as I am, how many times he has tried to delegate away the little things that he could have done without fanfare, for the love of God.