Ken Pierpont's Blog, page 20

Bittersweet Farm Journal | May 26, 2022 | Thoughts and Prayers

A storm passed through this afternoon and when it cleared the evening was fresh all around out on Bittersweet. I should have taken a long walk but I delayed, the sun set, night fell and I missed my opportunity. Maybe I’ll walk in the morning.

It’s peaceful here tonight, but it’s been a hard week. Much sad news has burdened the hearts of Americans and others all over the world. The sky seems dark overhead and there is a great sadness in my heart. I can’t imagine the sorrow of the parents and loved ones of the slain school children in Texas. Immediately on the heels of every tragedy is an exchange of political vitriol and partisan hatred. Immediately people, politicians, and pundits take advantage of the tragedy to force their political will on others.

Most of us have loved ones the ages of the children who died. Their beautiful faces spring into our thoughts. We can’t imagine a world without them in it.

Last Friday night I visited our daughter’s home. Our grandson’s slippers were waiting for him there on the stairs. They were the first and last things you see coming and going. It was hard to see them there because we knew he was away for the weekend and we would not get to see him.

Later, doing some writing in my quiet loft I was reflecting on the children in Texas whose lives were so violently taken. I can’t imagine the pain of seeing their slippers on the stairs and knowing they will never wear them again. God help us.

Today I talked to my daughter and she was excited to tell me that she is starting a prayer group for mothers. There are people who say prayer does not matter. But God says exactly the opposite. He promises that the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. (Read the Epistle of James). We have broken hearts and unanswered questions, but we have loved ones who have to grow up in this world and as long as we are alive there will be prayers. As long as we have to deal with the anxiety and sadness we feel in a world where madmen can kill children we will need to pray.

We will pray without ceasing and we will trust in the goodness and the providence of God. We will commit to his care all those who are to small to defend themselves against the dark evil forces that threaten them before and after they are born.

I’ll walk in the morning and I will remind myself that rain and dark skies can dampen my spirit but that same rain makes things grow… beautiful things grow after rain. There is a big rock in the treeline. Sometimes I sit there and I think and pray. Maybe I will stop there tomorrow and ask God to do what only he can do.

My soul melts away for sorrow; strengthen me according to your word! (Psalm 119:28)

 

 

 

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Bittersweet Farm Journal | May 9, 2022

Mother’s Day Tribute to Lois 2021. See this tribe–see the woman in the middle with the black dress and the pretty white hair? She is the mother of four sons and four daughters, grandmother to a growing group that will soon number seventeen grandchildren.

On Sunday morning for many, many years, I got up, showered, got dressed and left for church. Usually it was around five in the morning. When I got up to preach I would look down and to the left and there would be a whole pew full of beautiful children all perfectly dressed and groomed for church.

When I would say something in the pulpit I could feel the collective “eyes” of the congregation turning toward the people on that pew.

Today I want to give public honor to the woman who dressed and bathed the children, taught them to read, made them clothes, fixed them food, helped with the finances, decorated the home, watered the flowers, filled the home with music and the fragrances of good food, curled the hair, found the shoes, changed the diapers, nursed the babies, cleaned up the messes, did the dishes, washed the clothes, moped the floors, cleaned the toilets and showers, and did a thousand other things I didn’t see because on Sunday morning I got up and left for church before light.

I pray all the people in the picture will follow Jesus all the days of their lives. That woman in the middle, she prayed for that. She worked for that. She believed God for that. She sacrificed for that. She did what she needed to do so that those four sons and four daughters would know they were loved and so that they would love Jesus… and so they would not embarrass her.

Bittersweet Farm–Mother’s Day 2021

Mother’s Day Tribute 2022

I had no idea. I first saw you on September 8, 1978. I saw a pretty girl with long dark hair and brown eyes in a pretty dress. Soon I was spending all my energy and creativity trying to get you to the church to be my wife, but I really had no idea.

I had no idea that one day our love would fill a picture like this. I imagined someone who would maybe go camping with me and sit by the fire and eat outdoors. I imagined someone that would just adore me and hang on my every word. I had no idea that you would just be tough and loyal and hard-working and no-nonsense. I had no idea that you would have a simple faith that would make you brave enough to have eight children and teach them at home.

I had no idea that you, who did not at all profess to have any interest in being a pastor’s wife, would join me in Christian ministry for 43 years.

I did not realize that we would run a huge “Christian Hotel” together, travel all over the place, make so many friends, and survive some enemies together. I had no idea how tough you would be when someone mistreated me and how dangerous and determined you would be when they mistreated our children.

I had no idea on that day that one day we would stand in the end of the driveway and watch the last of them drive away and we would burst into happy tears and thank God for every single one of those 40 years of raising a family together and that we would sit an pray and thank God for every single day of it.

I could not have imagined 18 grandchildren so far. I didn’t realize the beauty you would bring to my life. I did not have any idea about all the flowers. I didn’t have any idea about the seasons of love through which we would pass the many times we would have to kneel at the cross and forgive each other….

And I had no idea how beautiful would be the stories of God’s provision for all of that. I could write books… well I have written books.

I give you public honor today. I rise up and call you blessed. I stand in the gates and praise you.

Here is to the next book. Maybe I will call it “I Had No Idea.”

Like this picture, you are in the center of all my best memories in life. Let’s hold hands and walk the beech soon.

P.S. I had no idea that you would not like holding hands or that I would need a whole barn to store all your stuff….

I just had no idea.

 Bittersweet Farm–Mother’s Day 2022

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Allene Hatton–A Tribute to My Mother-in-Law

My wife Lois grew up in Wolfe County Kentucky in the little village of Campton where she was born. Campton likes to call itself, “The Friendliest Little Town in the Mountains.” It’s more than a slogan. People really are friendly down there. It is situated in a beautiful part of the Bluegrass State. It’s nicely out-of-the-way. You have to mean to go there.
She lived the first nine years of her life in a white two-bedroom house. It had a tin roof that rang in the rain and a porch, like any self-respecting Kentucky home. The house sat in the shadow of a mountain across the creek from the Campton Baptist Church.

Lois has fond memories of Sundays in Campton growing up. They attended the Baptist Church. After church they would always walk to their Mamaw Banks for chicken dinner and then down to the bus station for ice cream. Mamaw Hatton would get some change from her little black change purse and fund the treat. Lois loved to crawl up on the stool at the soda fountain.

The rest of the afternoon and evening they would spend on their Mamaw Hatton’s porch visiting with the neighbors and watching the traffic until evening came. The kids would get restless and play rowdy games in the yard and Mamaw Hatton would try valiantly to protect her beautiful petunias and impatiens from harm. (In that part of the country the soft drink of choice is a sweet ginger ale they call “Ale-8-One”. The way Kentucky people say it, it sounds like “Al-Eight.” I doubt if they ever whiled away an the evening on the porch without Ale-Eight on hand. My children always beg for it as soon as we get within sight of the mountains).

Lois’ mother is the kind who would not think of taking her children out in public without having them perfectly groomed. You can see this in all the pictures taken when Lois was a girl. Her dresses were spotless above her dimpled knees. Her hair was perfectly clean and cut with strait bangs above her dark eyes.

The little house in which they lived did not have hot running water so to get four little children ready for church took some effort. Lois’ mother bathed each of the children in turn in a wash tub on the kitchen floor. She had to heat the bathwater on the stove. After their baths they would brush their teeth and rinse their mouths with Listerine and spit in the tub. By the time they were all done the water was, well lets just say “used.”
One Sunday morning she had the children all ready for church, bathed and dressed in their crisp Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes. That was back in the day when little girls wore white gloves and hats to church. They were just about to step out the door to church, Bibles in hand when disaster struck. Lois and her older brother Alvin begin to jostle one another. Little Lois lost her balance and tumbled into the washtub. Beyond her baptism that morning there would be no more religious observances that day.
Lois’ mother has moved back to Kentucky now. Her grandmothers have passed on. The porches are empty now. Lois has her own way of getting everybody up and ready and making the Lord’s Day special. Hats off to moms around the world today for all they do to point little eyes to God.

Special honor to Allene Hatton, the wonderful mother who raised the mother of our children, a fine Christian woman who worked full-time in an automotive factory for over 30 years to provide for her children on top of all the other things she did.
I am deeply honored that on Sundays my precious mother-in-law, who is a Jesus-follower, watches me preach (after she watches Charles Stanley).

 

Bittersweet Farm–Mother’s Day 2021

Mother’s Day Tribute to Jane Ann Pierpont (2021-2022)

I have been to schools, Bible schools, colleges, seminars and seminaries. I have read books and listened to and watched countless hours of lectures. No one has ever taught me more about the Bible than this woman, my mother, Jane A Pierpont.

Every day of my life she not only talked about Jesus but with all her heart she followed Jesus and lived in the Jesus way. With her it was not just “tell” it was “show and tell.” She taught me the books of the Bible, the truth of the Bible, the stories of the Bible. She helped me apply the truth of the Bible to earthy things like a clean room, treating others with love, obedience to authority, and showing honor.

She disciplined me and corrected me literally thousands of times. (I needed more than the average boy). She modeled to me how to show concern for the souls of others. She would walk me though the neighborhood helping me invite the other children to Bible Clubs and she taught hundreds of Bible Clubs.

I like to think of myself as a storyteller for Jesus. She was the first and best example of a storyteller in my life.

I have taught and preached and pastored and lead and told stories for Jesus to thousands of people for over four decades. If you are one of those people and I was a blessing to you thank the Lord, but today I wanted you to meet my first and very best teacher… my Mom. Thanks, Mom.

Bittersweet Farm–Mother’s Day 2021

Thanks, Mom. Thank you for your consistent and life-long desire to follow Jesus and help all of us follow Jesus. For the last 45 years while preaching things spring into my mind from God’s Word that you taught me when I was a little boy. I still see the books of the Bible, (Law, History, Poetry, Prophecy…) as little flannelgraph books on a shelf in my mind. I have made a career of the storytelling you used so much. Sorry for always telling my friends your punchlines. That must have been really irritating.

You filled our lives with good music, music that had rich meaning and significance. You worked hard to add to the income. You didn’t really ever baby us but you were there to point us to Christ and His Word when life was hard. You always displayed a confidence in God even when circumstances were difficult, like that time in Oklahoma when were really were down to peanut butter and pears. Thanks for always making sure we had peanut butter. I forgive you for the spinach. (The doctor is still trying to get me to eat that stuff. I just say “I’ll take the pills and go to heaven sooner, but I’m not going to eat spinach).

You woke us up with a bright song throwing the curtains back on the day like there was something wonderful waiting for us out there. (I didn’t realize at the time how sunny the prospect was for you of just getting me out of the house for a few hours so you could have some peace). You ended almost every day with song, often playing the piano or a recorded of someone who loved Jesus. (I’m still amazed that I was asked to speak at Helen Barth’s Memorial).

You were very good to Dad’s folks and showed them love and respect. Those trips to the farm and the little green house on Auten Road are treasures in my memory. Thanks for always having little treats for us to shorten the trips.

You always had an Avon bag with music in it in case you were asked to sing and you were often asked to sing. I would love to hear you sing again. Who knew there would come a time that you could only Sing His Praise in your heart. One day I want to hear you sing again.

Thanks for making my clothes. Thanks for all the special touches. Aren’t you glad I grew up in the 70’s when you could send me off to school wearing a polyester leisure suit and platform boots and fit right in. Thank you for always decoding television programs so I could see the unscriptural philosophies behind them. Thanks for always insisting I think through my music and reading with a Bible in hand.

Thanks for teaching me to memorize scripture. Thanks for always seeing to it there were nice meals on the table at mealtime, every mealtime. Thanks for the treats every single night. Thanks for making my bed when I was lazy and all the creative ways you tried to get me to do it myself. I often feel genuine guilt for making you do that. I’m so sorry. Call any day and I will drive to Kalamazoo and make your bed. I owe you a few.

In the picture you are wearing a cross. Above all I thank you for living a crucified life and taking up your cross daily and following Jesus.

I give God thanks for you today and I give you public honor. I love you, Mom.

Bittersweet Farm–Mother’s Day 2022

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Bittersweet Farm Journal | April 25, 2022 | Learning to Pray

I just returned from the village with my coffee. The forest understory is greening this morning. The daffodils and forsythia add a splash of color. Birds are flocking to the feeders especially in the morning and evening including finches so bright they boost your spirit. The trees will bud and turn green in the next couple weeks. Oh, how my heart longs for those first couple weeks of May. I spent a few hours in the writing loft yesterday mostly puttering, vacuuming up ladybugs and thinking on paper. Sometimes I write with my typewriter-like keyboard. Sometimes up in my loft I just take a nice Pelikan fountain pen and put real words on real paper and pray that they will amount to something artful. Bethel Church is doing well. Bethel Church is my Cherry Log, but that is a story for another day. Ask me if you wanna’ know. Linger in the sun this week if you can. It’s good for you.

 

Learning to Pray

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Last week I received an exuberant text announcing that our oldest son Kyle had taken a turkey on opening day of spring turkey season. He had his youngest son Leland along. He tells the story in a guest post. They prayed before they went. They prayed as they hunted. They prayed grateful prayers when they got their Tom. It was a lesson in answered prayer for a little boy.

We heard from out on the west coast where another of our little grandsons lives. He went fishing with some new gear he had won by saying AWANA verses and he was skunked. He caught nothing. He was broken-hearted.

How do we learn to pray and how to deal with unanswered prayer.

This winter I stumbled on an old recording of Uncle Johnny, Holman Johnson, the founder of Camp Barakel, giving testimony, telling story after story of answered prayer. At the end of the talk he quoted John 15:7 “If you abide in me and my words abide in you, you will ask what you want and it will be done unto you.”

A powerful part of answered prayer is to ask according to the will of God. A key to asking according to the will of God is abiding in Christ and his words abiding in us. When that happens we are likely to have the heart God and we are more likely to ask for things that are according to his will.

When I heard the stories of our little grandsons learning of prayer and answered prayer and unanswered prayers I found myself longing that they would abide in Christ and that the word of Christ would abide in them. That is the kind of man I want to be, a man who abides in Christ. A man in whom the words of Christ abide… so that the thing for which I pray and the things I desire are things that please the Lord, things he desires to give.

“If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” (John 15:7, ESV)

 

ADD. Who Knew?

For most of my life I have lived with the suspicion that if there is a thing called ADD I have it. Today I stumbled on an article about a pastor with ADD and found this little gem of a quote:

“People with ADD have special gifts, even if they are hidden. The most common include originality, creativity, charisma, energy, liveliness, an unusual sense of humor, areas of intellectual brilliance and spunk. Some of our most successful entrepreneurs have ADD, as do some of our most creative actors, writers, doctors, scientists, attorneys, architects, athletes, and dynamic people in all walks of life.”

I used to feel little shy about it, but now that I have read this I’m thinking about having “I’m ADD” hats and tees printed. Apparently it is something to be proud of.

Who knew?

Bittersweet Farm

April 13, 2022

Music in the Mountains

Natural Bridge, Kentucky

Our oldest son, Kyle is a pastor in Grand Rapids. A couple years ago a family needed his pastoral services. Grandpa had died. Kyle preached his funeral and ministered to the family. A few months later the family called again. This time the news was especially bitter. Their fourteen-year-old son had died at his own hand. The family was devastated. Kyle spent time with them. He prayed with them and listened to their stories.

The boy’s mother and father had divorced. They shared custody. Kyle asked the boy’s mother if she could share a happy memory about her boy. She told him this story:

One summer they drove to Kentucky to visit Natural Bridge. The plan was for them to hike up to the Bridge together. It is a tough hike. On the way up mom ran out of strength. She just couldn’t go on. She found a bench and sat down to rest. Brokenhearted, she told her son, “Go on without me. I’ll have to wait for you here.” He sat down with her. “Mom, I love you. I didn’t come here to see the Natural Bridge. I came to spend time with you.”

She insisted. He took off and ran to the top and quickly returned to join his mom on the bench. He said, “There’s someone up there with an instrument, mom.”They sat there in silence at dusk or a few minutes when, suddenly beautiful music began to drift down from somewhere above them. Not just birdsong and wind in the leaves, but something more.

Someone had hiked up to the bridge with a cello and on the top of the bridge they began play. The music filled the giant amphitheater of mountain and forest with with music.

They sat and listened to the music that day on the bench on the mountainside—music that seemed especially arranged for them. She said; “I will always cherish that memory.”

Deep silence.

Kyle listened to the story quietly and then said; “One day there will be a new heaven and there will be a new earth. I think in the new heaven and the new earth there will still be a Natural Bridge. I think you can go back one day.

As believers in Christ, in your glorified body, you will be able to reach the top together.

Life in this broken world can damage your spirit and threaten your faith, but we have the promises of God that one day all that is wrong in this world will be made right and those who hope in Jesus will be with Him again in a place were divorce won’t divide young lovers and young boys will never again be crushed with despair.

And every mountain and every valley will be filled with music once again.

Bittersweet Farm

April 13, 2022

Bittersweet Farm Journal | April 8, 2022 | Open Road

News from Bittersweet Farm

If you know me well you know I am a “Gentleman Farmer” which means we don’t really grow crops or raise animals on our acres in the country but we live where we have some elbow room. I grow grass and feed birds and putter about, but mostly I work with words. I write a lot. Lois grows flowers.

Pastoring is part contemplative and part people.

I do the people part of ministry at Bethel Church and around Jackson.

I do the contemplative part of ministry out on Bittersweet Farm.

Our home is a 120-year-old farmhouse with a matching century-old carriage house a half of the upstairs is converted into a writing loft where it is always quiet save for the kind of noises that contribute to contemplation.

Across the road is a forest wrapped over a hill. To the west a deer preserve. To the north field on field of field and forest and wetland habitat for waterfowl. We have wildlife on our acres every night and birdsong every morning this time of year.

For the last week we have been away. We travelled to Texas to meet two of our newest grandchildren, a son born to our son Daniel and his wife Kate and a daughter born to our son Wes and his wife Dylan. It was springtime in Texas.

One afternoon Lois explored antique shops and I walked around Historic Downtown McKinney just to feel the warm sun on my neck. There is something powerfully therapeutic about the sun on your neck after a long winter as any aging person will tell you.

Dan and Kate and the Boys





Wes and Dylan and the Girls

In McKinney I found a hat shop. They outfitted me with a beautiful Open Road Stetson straw hat. I like to call it my “Storyteller” hat. We had some BBQ and visited In-and-Out and Whataburger. Mostly we enjoyed being with our son and his wife and their daughters who are building a good life in a good place there in the Lone Star State.

My Storyteller Stetson Open Road

Spring will be here soon. It’s walking steadily north now as it does every ear. Soon we will sit on the porch in the morning and feel the full benevolence of the warm sun and watch the antics of the birds. We will enjoy the color of the flowers and the greening of the countryside once again and our hearts will flutter like we are young and in love. And we will make sun tea and maybe sweeten it a bit and it will remind us of our trip to Waco to see the “Silos” and the Magnolia Market…