Pat and I were in the back yard of our home a few years ago discussing which weeds (all of them) had to go away. Our eyes turned to our trampoline sitting in the corner of our yard, under the spreading limbs of our lovely oak tree.

     This trampoline has quite a background.

     Let me give you a little history. Before my first wife, Joyce, and I got married (we dated for more than six years), one of the desires of our heart was to some day have a kind of ministry that would allow us to work with our own kids. Beginning in 1960, we began planting and pastoring churches. In late 1963, we ended up in the Texas Panhandle. I figured I’d probably be a pastor for the rest of my life. Little did I know what God had in store for us.

     While happily pastoring away, I made a trip to Southern California to preach at a national fellowship gathering. I took four year old Tim along. We stayed with my Grandparents. While there, my Grandma took me to Chuck Smith’s tent church in Costa Mesa. There were several thousand young people in attendance. During that meeting, God let me know that my future ministry was going to be with kids. We had some kids in our church, but I was in the dark about how He was going to work it all out.

      My first thought when I got back home was to offer to resign so I could pursue this course change. The consensus was that I could pastor AND work with kids. I had no idea how that was going to work but began waiting on the Lord.

     It didn’t take long for the answer to begin unfolding. The next summer, some young people moved into a house across the street from our home. We’d purchased a trampoline for our kids to use. One evening, one of the college students came across the street to visit. He asked me if I would consider talking with he and his friends about the Bible and God. I agreed. We met one night a week. The kids all sat around the edge of our trampoline. As the group grew, they filled our back yard. We moved into our home as the colder weather came. As we watched our home bulging at the seams, we began asking the Lord for a larger place to meet. The Lord graciously led us to an old carpenter’s union building on the edge of our church property. Along the way, we adopted "The Fish" as our name. A friend welded a huge fish together out of steel pipes. We planted this huge fluorescent fish outside the door of our building.

      I want you to know that our trampoline was the beginning of a really neat and powerful ministry for the Lord. Well, the trampoline has made two moves in the past 37 years. It’s been repainted several times. We had to put new springs and a new bed on it.

      Now, nobody jumps on it and hasn’t for years. Due to liability problems, we can’t just let the neighborhood kids come and jump. Our own grandkids who live in town have their own trampoline.

     Pat and I discussed tearing it apart and putting it down by the road for the trash guys to haul off. That’s the sane, sensible thing to do. It’s rusted pretty badly. The springs sag and quite likely wouldn’t support anyone jumping on it. Yep, that’s the sensible thing to do all right.

     The Israelites frequently drove stakes in the ground, put up icons, built altars, etc. in order to cause the people to remember the good things God had done for them. Those remembrances were designed to spur them on to further trust in the Lord and reliance on Him for greater and grander victories down the road.

      Well, a few weeks ago, the other local Meyer family offered to come and dismantle the trampoline for us. Tim used the bed as a covering on his big truck to keep things from blowing out along the highway. He cut up the steel support parts and they got hauled to the road.

     As I e-mailed with our other two children, they instantly wanted a piece of the frame as a reminder of all the good things represented by that trampoline. The above picture is my reminder. It finally was time for it to go. However, it didn’t go without a lot of thoughts about its history and meaning in our family and ministry.

     Can you relate to this experience? Click on my name in the lower corner of this page and I’ll write you back.

Responses to "USED PEANUT SHELLS"...

- I certainly identify with you on the job thing. I did the pop bottle collecting, the lawn mowing, but one of my worst jobs was cleaning a place called Tuff Koat. It rustpoofed cars and all week long the sticky tar like stuff accumulated sometimes to half an inch in thickness. It was my job to spray the floor with kerosene to soften it up and then use a scraper to try and scrape it off the floor. Meanwhile, I would be slipping and sliding and falling and I'd get a headache from the smell. After a few hours I would be able to use a power washer and finish off the floor. It was a really disgusting job, but I stuck with it and learned a lot about myself.

     When the present congregation I pastor asked me to consider coming, I used a good friend as one of my references. He and I got to know each other real well. One of the things he told the elders when they contacted him was that my great strength is that I’m not a quitter. He testified that I had suffered through ministry situations that most people wouldn't put up with, but I overcame and stuck to it. He also said that I may not be the most gifted, or charasmatic speaker, but I am solid and trustworthy.

     To be honest with you, I have never thought about it, but perhaps not being a quitter is my strength, or even my spiritual gift:-) It drives me nuts to see people just give up without finishing their committments or promises.

     Your story reminds me of something very important, something that perhaps we've lost as a society lately. There is great value to us and our world, to stick with things. Perseverence, it's a great word, at least when you look back:-)

     Thanks for the thought provoker once again!

- My most character building job was repairing, make that rebuilding, the shoes of Amish pig farmers. I was helping an older gentleman who happened to have a shoe repair business, yet was falling badly behind in his work because of poor health. I asked if there was any way I could help him and he asked the normal question, "Do you know how to work on shoes?" I said, "No, but I'm a quick learner." That seemed to satisfy him, so he permitted me to work with him all day. As a young pastor I could definitely use any extra income. We were helping to pay for heat in the church on a salary that failed to meet our needs, yet that is where God wanted us.

     The old gentleman assured me that we would have months of work before he was even caught up, but we accomplished that in about three weeks (Maybe I am a quick study after all!). I continued to help him off and on, depending on how he was feeling, until he sold the store. The very worst repair jobs came from the feet of Amish pig farmers. They would wait until their work boots were so badly broken down that we couldn't "half sole" them. They literally needed to be rebuilt from the ground up. If you have shoveled peanut shells in a chicken coop, you may have a sense for the smell that came from these shoes. It was not only humbling, it was rewarding, for I knew that it was God at work, providing for our needs.

- Jerry, today's article struck a chord within me...I know what you're talking about...doing jobs that are NOT pleasant and sticking with it.

     When I was 14 years old my family moved to Mississippi. Dad operated a dairy farm, milking 60+ cows twice a day, seven days a week and 365 days a year with no vacations. Life was hard, we were financially strapped. I felt sorry for the stress my parents were in, soooo I milked cows, without complaint, twice a day, seven days a week, and 52 weeks a year. I hated milking cows. It mean I couldn't pursue my personal interests. In case you don't know, cows poop wherever they are and are not polite about it at all. In addition to all this we were not set up well to milk, either, so when the winter rains came, the cows were VERY muddy and that mud had to be washed off of those udders before a milker could be put on that animal. It was cold during the winter, too. Terribly cold, back then. We were not set up well to handle cold, rain and mud. But you know what the lessons were that I learned? Stamina. Stamina - to stick with something even when very difficult, smelly and unpleasant. Until then I lived for myself, cared little about others. I learned loyalty.

     I needed all this. Now when I see people handed things without working for them, or fussing when situations are unpleasant, less then ideal, I think about milking those cows in a nasty environment and think they must be terribly spoiled.

- I don't think I'll ever eat another peanut again, :-) While in Bible college, a friend and I worked Friday nights and Saturdays cleaning manure from the cattle at the Union Stock Yards in Springfield. A real character builder and it did provide us with some money.

- Ooh! Cleaning up after chickens? And I "used" to think that cleaning up after my husband was a horrid thing. Boy, do I stand corrected!