Leavenworth

It was an interesting meeting that took place, the young minister said as he sat down next to his wife on the park bench.

When I arrived at the church, Mr. Law said to me, ‘Oh, thank you Pastor for your willingness to meet with me today. What can I tell about our church?

‘Whatever’s on your heart… What’s Leavenworth about?’ I answered.

You left it that open? His wife inquired.

Yes, well… and he continued. The members of Leavenworth are friendly… friendly enough to get visitors to return a second, maybe a third time, but then they’d vanish back into the neighborhoods from whence they came… much like the return of sand into the sea. The elders and deacons and me – Oh my! – are rightfully concerned. The congregation hasn’t grown – in what? Ten years? Well, not in any new blood. Actually, the pew body count went down, but Leavenworth’s Sunday attendance records always have gone on family name and representation, and that hasn’t changed in fifty… oh, sixty years? Leavenworth was solidly founded upon the surnames of Gordon, Macarthur… Rose and Forbes… Graham and Campbell, just to name a few of the pillars. The church itself has a long history – going back one hundred and fifty years: so proud of that. Over that period, we’ve had only four ministers. The first, Marshall Anstruther – he was here first sixty of the 150. He came as a brash young man preaching fire and brimstone of the Scottish Presbyterian John Knox variety. His family clan’s motto? ‘I would have perished, if I had not persisted.’ The second in line – Pontchartrain Evans – yes, he was called of the Lord out of the bayous of Louisiana, and he stayed – oh, around forty years. From what I heard, Pontchartrain stood at the pulpit like he said his daddy stood on his shrimp boat, casting his net into the waters until the day his daddy head out and was greeted by some maelstrom in the gulf… pieces of his shrimper, named God’s Good, found on the shore. So, there we have two preachers – 100 years? We added more family names along the way: Dubois… Boudreaux, and LeBlanc. Next, Leavenworth called Ernest Wilson – he wasn’t so earnest in his commitment to the church as everyone had thought he would be – given the long-history we had with our first two ministers. Pastor Wilson lasted ten years but then found his true calling: Fuller Brush. He told my daddy it was easier selling Alfred Fuller’s brushes than religion. He said that he was more easily let into people’s houses with his carpetbag than knocking with a Bible. After he left? Well? Our town had experienced a bit of an evangelism explosion – not with us, of course – but several new churches came around and were apparently more attractive… just in what sense I’m not sure. Anyway, yes, that happened after World War II, and one of our own – Johnny Campbell, our minister who just passed, and we hope you’ll replace  – went to Bible School. He came back to lead us and has been here the past… well… uhm… let’s see, we have 60, and 40, and 10… yes, that’s right – forty years… forty, and I’m not sure…

It was at that point that Mr. Law paused. Sure about what? I asked.

What did he say? Well? Tell me!  

He looked down at his feet, his face turned a pale gray, and answered, How did we get here? I don’t have any idea what we’re doing and what I’m asking.