Grace Community Christian Church

 

Archived Things Above

Swinging & Serving (6/15/98)

"Dad, I hear a scraping sound over at the church."

It was 11:00 at night, and I was lying in bed reading a good book. The fourteen year old was sleeping on the floor with her recently arrived five year old Kentucky cousin. Their window was open, and Mickey's sensitive ears had picked up a not normal noise.

"What do you mean, 'scraping noise'?"

"I don't know. It's just a scraping noise. Come listen."

"Is it like metal on metal, or like a shovel?"

"Dad! Just come listen!"

So listen we did. But hearing nothing out of the ordinary, I quietly stepped out onto the darkened back porch. Sure enough, someone was lurking next to the swing set behind the church building, about fifty yards away.

Then I saw the soda light's reflection off an opening car door. I wondered how many there were.

"Dad, he's running!"

"Dad, I think he's lighting a fire!"

(Less brave than I, she reported these observations from behind the safety of the computer room's window screen.)

So much for the good book. It was obviously time to take action and defend our church property from the nefarious phantom(s?) plotting dastardliness upon our swing set.

Dressing quickly, I determined to utilize my 250,000 candlepower plug-in-the-lighter spotlight. It hadn't been used since I last deaned a senior high summer camp years ago in Canada. Once again, it would be a tool of righteousness, illuminating the blackness and exposing sin in the hearts of men. I love that light.

By now, the wife was awake and inquiring about all the goings on.

"Let me call the police," she insisted. But no, super-Dad would handle this one on his own.

Easing the van quietly out the driveway, and not turning on the headlights until I was at the main road, I gunned the engine and went roaring into the parking lot. Tires squealing as I turned hard & braked to a lurching stop next to the mystery getaway car, I hit the switch and lit up the trouble maker.

There, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, with his hands held high in the air . . . was Bill, one of our newer Christians in the church, tightening a bolt in the chain that connects the swing seat to the cross bar.

Grinning at the sudden intrusion of noise and light, he nonchalantly reached down and responded to my challenge with his own pathetic, two-D battery flashlight, whose weak yellow beam was blotted out by the sizzling laser emanating from my handheld weapon.

He had been vanquished, and knew it.

Turns out Bill was just raising the swing a few inches. We'd recently dumped a load of mulch into the play area, and consequently the swings were too low. Bill had been asked to correct the situation, and just hadn't gotten around to it. Until tonight.

You see, he works night shift as a psychiatric nurse, so to him, this was morning. His day was just getting started!

"I figured I'd be seeing the cops or somebody," he explained as we laughed together over the situation.

The scraping sound? Hacksaw cutting through chain links.

The running? Swinging and jumping off to test the height.

The fire? Flickering flashlight as he worked in the semi-dark.

As I remounted my red four-wheeled stallion and headed for home, anticipating the victor's welcome from my proud and admiring family, a few reflections formed in my mind about the whole adventure.

1. Thank God for those with the gift of listening.

2. Be slow to assume evil.

3. How refreshing to be wrong about what is thought to be evil intent and/or actions.

4. Thank God for the uniqueness of his children's gifts, who serve in many different ways, and at many different times!


Jim Dewar --