Hello, All. I’m Jackie, & I’m Lloyd’s webservant. I need to apologize for the last couple weeks. The email plugin we’d been using for years was removed from the WordPress repository for a number of reasons, the most pressing of which was unaddressed security problems. I therefore had to find something that worked to send emails for this site. Unfortunately, I found a few plugins that didn’t quite live up to their advertisements. Also unfortunately, at times I posted stuff that was only supposed to go to me but forgot to check the right box, & yall ended up receiving it. I’m embarrassed, & I humbly apologize. I can tell yall I seriously hate the combination of egg on my face & crow in my yap. Since I’m a volunteer, I guess my job is secure, but that doesn’t mean I have a right to be sloppy. I guess sometimes, despite my best efforts, I get distracted &/or in a hurry, & that, unfortunately impacted negatively on everyone. I can’t apologize enough for that.
After clearing out mail queues, uninstalling/reinstalling plugins, & deleting database tables, I think I’ve finally got stuff under control & on the right track. I reckon we’ll see.
If there are posts you haven’t received, please come up & join the fun on
I’m hoping you’ll get your posts from henceforth.
Again, I apologize for the inconvenience. If I can help anyone w/anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me at the email address from which you get this newsletter, & I’ll do what I can.
Last Tuesday, the Sage of Juniata Street and I did our coffee and philosophy at the Vineyard church. I was curious. I had watched the congregation grow from its beginnings and I knew some of the Vineyard movement’s national origins. Some of my Baptist tribe raised questions.
The way I see it, how people worship is nobody’s business but theirs. We can have preferences based on our history, but so what? I always counted golf a waste of good fishing time, but that didn’t prevent me from bestowing on golfer-wife Elsie a club membership each year on her birthday. She loved golf; I loved trout streams. Let there be peace.
Before coffee, Clyde and I toured the building. We snooped in obscure corners. Everywhere, we found good taste, quality, simplicity, upbeat ambiance. What most impressed me, I thought I had done well to reduce my personal theology to three tenets: Mystery, Sovereign Grace, Incarnation. The Vineyard got theirs down to two: Love God, Love people. Period. That’s pure gospel.
Some Sunday, when Interim Pastor Phil over at Emmanuel Baptist ain’t looking, I’ll talk the Sage into taking me and the Girl from 313 to the Vineyard for worship. That in spite of those formidable drums on the platform.
Old Grandpa Lloyd
If any of you receives this twice, please forgive. We’re testing a new newsletter plugin, as the other seemed not to be working as expected.
Fist-pump! Today’s Converge Newsline reported that on March 4, Eagle Brook Church of Minneapolis/Saint Paul launched its seventh Twin City area campus. Over 1,500 people attended two services in Plymouth. In 2008 the Baptist General Conference adopted Converge as a name that fit the challenges of a new era. But that was not BGC’s first name change. BGC roots go back to a handful of Swedish immigrants who In 1875 formed an association they named the Swedish Baptist Conference. Over the next 120 years, the Conference grew into a respected denomination with 1,000-plus churches, a far-reaching missions outreach, and Bethel College and Seminary–Bethel University today. I graduated from Bethel in 1941 and served Conference churches for 20 years. In 1962 I was privileged to began a decade of service on the BGC executive staff–I’m the last surviving executive of that era. In 1972 I moved on to other ministries and watched Converge escape the tradition cocoon to reach to new heights, never compromising the faith of the fathers. I am proud to be a Converge church member. The Eagle Brook story made me smile. Nothing remotely like it ever appeared in the Standard, during my BGC tenure. The photos would have shaken up the elders. Baptists do not raise their hands in worship! But none of those elders attended the 1945 annual meeting in Duluth, when delegates voted to drop Swedish from the name. Elders across the land trembled. All who believe they acted wisely, please raise your hand. .Old Grandpa Lloyd
Fist-pump! Today’s Converge Newsline reported that on March 4, Eagle Brook Church of Minneapolis/Saint Paul launched its seventh Twin City area campus. 0ver 1,500 people attended two services in Plymouth.
In 2008 the Baptist General Conference adopted Converge as a name that fit the challenges of a new era. But that was not BGC’s first name change. BGC roots go back to a handful of Swedish immigrants who In 1875 formed an association they named the Swedish Baptist Conference. Over the next 120 years, the Conference grew into a respected denomination with 1,000-plus churches, a far-reaching missions outreach, and Bethel College and Seminary–Bethel University today.
I graduated from Bethel in 1941 and served Conference churches for 20 years. In 1962 I was privileged to began a decade of service on the BGC executive staff–I’m the last surviving executive of that era. In 1972 I moved on to other ministries and watched Converge escape the tradition cocoon to reach to new heights, never compromising the faith of the fathers. I am proud to be a Converge church member.
The Eagle Brook story made me smile. Nothing remotely like it ever appeared in the Standard, during my BGC tenure. The photos would have shaken up the elders. Baptists do not raise their hands in worship! But none of those elders attended the 1945 annual meeting in Duluth, when delegates voted to drop Swedish from the name. Elders across the land trembled.
All who believe they acted wisely, please raise your hand.
.Old Grandpa Lloyd
The Woodland Garden flag flew at half-mast again this week; a sobering reminder. After a long, difficult illness, Lynn died.
The death of a neighbor always gives pause. Most of us are old; many are unwell. Lobby chatter often turns to pains, pills, and physicians; ambulance visits are not uncommon. But when word of another death goes out, the halls grow still.
I love my Woodland Garden life. I’m just one of the guys. I never impose my faith views on others, though chats often turn to faith and religion. But when Mike lowers the flag, like the old fire-house horse when the alarm sounds, my pastor heart beats faster. I care for the people around me. If that care and my life do not reflect God’s love and grace, any words about God would be meaningless.
I’m sort of a quasi-chaplain, called on for prayer before special meals. I have conducted one wedding. Residents often turn to me for comfort and counsel in times of need. So when I came upon Lynn’s special friend in the library, pensive and lonely, it was easy to put an arm around his shoulder and pray.
Old Grandpa Lloyd
If friends are life’s crown jewels, I’m filthy rich. I have 453 Facebook friends and about 350 Hole News subscribers. I have no idea how many climb the Story Tree. Amazing—a geezer of 94 telling stories to folks from many lands.
I choose FB friends carefully, checking backgrounds, looking for people I know. I ignore questionable requests, like that poor lady a while back. I knew she was poor because in her picture she had hardly any clothes. Then, the man with good credentials who messaged about a government agency and an accounting error. I had substantial money coming. He would expedite the check soon as I sent $738 to cover taxes NS fees. I may be old, but I’m not stupid
This week, new friend Debbie messaged: Hello, how are you? Fine, I replied, and who are you? Debbie claimed an Amazon connection. Did I know about the new benefits? I scanned her FB page: no personal data.A previous post flashed red. She was indignant when I questioned her: Who do you think you are? I told her and left..
FB and Hole News readers include friends old and new, from all over–Africa, India. Some messages come in native tongues. FB translations often bring smiles.
This is a remarkable day. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.
Old Grandpa Lloyd
John Wayne, Philosopher of the Saddle, spoke that truth. His words explain how yesterday’s adventure came about.
The girl from 313 uttered equally wise words that brought the adventure to a happy ending, and saved my supper. Here’s how I risked Norma’s ire.
During the morning comedy hour (mail watch in the lobby), I observed an unusual action by Norma that unnerved me. I knew she had a mini-stroke a while back. At our noon consultation in my apartment, another action increased my unease. I pondered a trip to ER to check things out, but remembered Norma would see her doctor in a few days.
But my unease persisted. I love that girl! Should another stroke occur, early treatment was vital. I phoned St. Mary’s and explained my concern to the on-call nurse. She requested Norma’s phone number. I asked for five minutes. Fearfully, I phoned Norma to explain the pending phone call. There was a long pause.
Soon Norma came to my apartment and reported a long, helpful conversation with the nurse. No ER needed. I humbly apologized for intruding, and Philosopher Norma put me at ease. She said, Sometimes it’s easier to apologize than to ask permission.
We had a really good supper.
Old Grandpa Lloyd
This morning the Sage of Juniata Street and I enjoyed breakfast at Sunshine Café, 5719 Grand Avenue in West Duluth. It’s our favorite haunt. Hostess Young A always treats us kindly. I had Swedish pancakes and eggs; Clyde went with his usual omelet. We drank about a gallon of coffee and talked for three hours.
Conversation carried us far and wide. I confessed I was taking heat from some brethren because I don’t try to hide my dislike for some public figures. Critics ask how I square that with Jesus’ command to love our enemies.I point to Jesus cleansing of the temple. The Lord called some evil doers sons of snakes! I doubt he was whistling a happy tune when he overturned their cheating tables. And what was that whip for?
Yes, Jesus prayed a prayer of compassion from the cross, recognizing mankind’s limitations. And I feel genuine compassion for persons gripped by NPD, narcissist personality disorder. This well-defined mental condition compels the victim to seek his/her own way at all times, never considering compromise.
Dislike, however, gives the Christian no license to get nasty in return. Christian love demands that we strive to treat everyone well; even those we don’t like.
Sadly, nature didn’t endow us with a switch to allow us to turn our feelings on and off at will. It’s really tough to watch a bully at work and keep smiling.
Old Grandpa Lloyd
In a recent News Tribune piece, Sam Cook, far and away my favorite Northland writer, declared he was mulling another book. Go for it, Sam! I need another dose of your wit and philosophy as I continue my final portage.
If I talk woodsy, it’s because that’s what I am—from childhood on. Kind providence set me on a path that included wilderness treks from Maine to Alaska. You can read about some of them at www.lloydsstorytree.com.
Sam’s article led me back to Quiet Magic, his second book (1998). I read his account of Hawk Ridge and smiled. My first-ever campout was there, 1935. My buddy and I slept on the ground under the stars rolled up in a blanket. We cooked breakfast over an open fire. There was no road in those days.
A favorite day hike was to follow the ridge of the hill and across Amity Creek, Lester River, and farm fields to Moose Mountain, where we’d cook lunch and hike home, I caught my first trout in the Amity.
A while back I wrote a small leaders’ manual called the Wilderness Way, partly how-to, partly philosophy. My thesis: removing a child form direct involvement with the necessities of life damages his soul. Trail living finds food, shelter, and clothing your pack. You walk (transportation).
Nature is God’s other book. We need to quit yacking and get out there, look and listen. And take kids with us.
I’ll be watching for that new book, Sam.
Old Grandpa Lloyd