Years ago, I decided to plant blackberry bushes in my back yard. I pruned and fertilized them for about seven or eight years. However, I never ate any berries from those bushes. There were berries, but before I could get them, they would be gone. Berry bushes are terrible to cultivate because of the stickers but I kept thinking that someday, they would produce; and we would have lots of berries and all my work and injuries would be worth the effort. Finally, I pulled up the unproductive plants and threw them in the garbage.
A couple of weeks ago, our son came to visit us from Hawaii. While shopping we came across some fresh blackberries. “Oh!” I said absently reaching out the touch the berries a we passed.
“I never buy blackberries anymore,” my son said. “I’ve never been able to find a berry that could compare with all the berries you grew in the back yard.”
Ah, ha! That is what happened to all those berries. My son ate them. I said nothing because I remember the wonderful berries that as a child I would scavenger from the bushes that grew wild in the alley behind our house. My son had experienced the delight of blackberries. After all, that had been my purpose in growing the berries–to allow my children to taste the wonder of fresh picked blackberries.
At times, that is how I feel about specialized ministries. There is so much to enjoy and savor during our times of worship and so few come to experience the delight. Tony Piantine said that the first time he attended a worship service with people who are developmentally disabled was when he came to camp with his physically disabled brother, Daniel. “When I walked in, I knew this is how church should be. Fully accepting each other, no matter what,” Tony said. Later, Tony translated his passion into Camp Daniel, named for his brother who died. Like my son and the backyard blackberries, Tony could never walk away for the simple joys he had shared during his time a camp.
At Special Gathering, we are continually thinking and praying about the next generation of leadership who will continue the ministry after we have retired or died or stopped for some other reason. Yet, it’s a struggle because so few people come to taste the joy. My son’s blackberries, however, have encouraged me. Some one out there has tasted the freshness and joy of this unique worship and they can’t forget. Like Tony, they will never be able to get the taste from their thoughts. One day, in God’s timing, they will return to find the sweetness of backyard blackberries again.
How have you endeavored to replace yourself? Have you been successful in raising up new leadership?
