If one is actively involved in a Sunday School class, that person is blessed with a strong support system when special needs surface. In fact, it is often said that Baptists are at their best caring for one another in times of need. We visit. We pray. We encourage. We take food. We minister in multiple ways trying to let God’s love flow through us to others in times of special need.
When one is in a Sunday School class, one is surrounded by people who care. One has ongoing fellowship with people year after year. Strong friendships emerge. Friends from Sunday School frequently know more about us than family members who live hundreds of miles away. It may never be said, but we know they will be there in a pinch and we will be there for them.
But what about persons not in Sunday School classes, those who sit alone on the end of a pew near the back? They don’t talk much. We recognize them when we see them but might not even be able to call their names. What about older persons whose health will not allow them to come to Sunday School anymore? What happens to these when special needs arise? Do they slip through the cracks? Do they go uncared for in times of special needs?
Recently Todd Evans, pastor of Parkview Baptist Church in Decatur, commented on this dilemma. He said his church had determined not to let anyone connected to the church fall through the cracks during times of special need. As he spoke, our family was benefiting from that determination. More than 30 of us were enjoying a meal in the fellowship hall following my mother’s funeral.
Mother had been in Parkview only once in the 22 months since my father died Jan. 13, 2001. For eight months she struggled, trying to live alone in their home. For the past 14 months she had been in an assisted-living facility. Failing health made life difficult for her.
The church was there before Dad died as well as after. Each week, Mother received tapes of the Sunday morning worship service. A young woman from the church, together with her two boys, visited Mother regularly.
Practically every time I visited Mother she spoke of Amy Sanderson and her children. Mother looked forward to Amy’s visits. She wanted to buy Christmas presents for the boys. Others in the church called on Mother, too. They never let her forget that she was cared for by Parkview, even though she had not attended regularly for some years.
During Mother’s final illness, the church was there, visiting her in the hospital, praying for her, caring for family members.
When Mother was sent to a rehabilitation facility away from Decatur, other church groups stepped in. Mother was in the facility only two Sundays, but both days a man from a nearby Baptist church came by to visit, to try to make her smile, to remind her that God loved her, to pray with her and with us.
Mother did not get far from her room, but she always perked up when someone came in and expressed interest in her. Then Mother died, really rather quickly. We went back to Decatur for the funeral and Parkview Church was there again. Mother had not slipped through the cracks during her last months, and our family was not going to slip through the cracks now.
The pastor was there for the family. Amy was there. Many church members expressed their concern, but they did more. They tended to needs of family members from out of state as well as providing the meal for the family after the funeral. Most of the people who prepared the meal and served it had never seen my mother or any other family member. What they did was a ministry of the church so no one would slip through the cracks in time of special need.
What they did was not glamorous. They did not draw attention to themselves. They just did it because there was a need. Amy never got awards or honors because she faithfully visited my mother. The man who tried to make her smile in the rehabilitation facility didn’t draw attention to himself. Todd didn’t seek publicity when he organized the meal or when he swept the floor afterward. He did it because he was determined that at Parkview, no one was going to slip through the cracks.
Is such a ministry important? It was to Mother, and it was to our family. In her room I saw tapes of the Sunday service stacked by the tape player and heard comments about, “Do you know what Todd said Sunday?” and then listened to praise of the sermon. I’ve witnessed Mother adjusting her schedule so she would be home and be presentable when Amy and the boys came to visit. I’ve seen the twinkle in the eyes and the smile on Mother’s face when a stranger joked with her and someone told her that God loved her. I’ve felt the compassion of a church as they provided a meal and did other caring acts for a grieving family.
Making sure no one slips through the cracks may not be the most glamorous ministry in the church, but it may be the most appreciated. This is especially true of those whose circumstances prevent regular participation in the life of a church.
Parkview is not the only Alabama Baptist church with such a ministry. Most churches provide meals for grieving families, minister to shut-ins and provide programs for senior citizen facilities. From my own experience, let me affirm how important it is and how much it is appreciated for churches to make sure that no one slips through the cracks, especially in times of special need.
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