Ken Pierpont's Blog, page 59

Bold Saints (Sermon) Video

Bold Saints (2 Tim. 1:7)

Bethel Church-Jackson, Michigan

August 26, 2018 AM

Bold Saints (Sermon) Audio

Bold Saints (2 Tim. 1:7)

Bethel Church-Jackson, Michigan

August 26, 2018 AM

http://kenpierpont.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/Bold-Saints_-Three-Powerful-Ways-to-Overcome-Fear.mp3

A Shocking Conversation

So yesterday morning I got in my car for an early meeting and backed up in my driveway. I was about to pull out onto the road when I look up over my hood and right in the middle of the hood of my car was a big frog, it looked for all the world like it was looking right at me. I drove down to the end of the road thinking he would jump off but he didn’t he hung on.

Down at the end of the road I get out of my car reach out to take the frog off the hood of my car and suddenly he talks to me… He says clear as day; “Hey. Kiss me and I will turn into a beautiful woman.”

I have to admit I was shocked. “What did you say?” I say, buying time…

He says; “I said kiss me and I will turn into a beautiful woman.”

I grabbed that frog put him in a box in my trunk…

“What are you doing?” he says.

I say, “I already have a beautiful woman, what I really want is a talking frog but I’ve never had a talking frog. That could be be worth something.”

You may have guessed that most of that story was a tall tale… I made it upon as a cheap tactic to capture your attention. But you have to admit, a talking frog could be very valuable.

If you are a Jesus-follower you have probably learned that you received a valuable gift from God the moment you were saved. You were give a spiritual gift, maybe more than one, when were saved. What could be more valuable. Your spiritual gift is for the purpose of powerful service in the work of the church.

Think of it. You have been given the indwelling Spirit and you have been empowered to serve in the church in ways that are super-human.

That is a valuable gift… how are you using it?

Ken Pierpont

Bittersweet Farm

Summit Township, Michigan

August 26, 2018

Fatherless Children and Childless Fathers

Playing baseball with your sons on an early spring evening is one of the great underrated pleasures of life. One such evening I was standing on the margin of the field watching my sons warm up for a game and making friendly conversation with one of the other dads. I asked him the usual polite questions about his work and his family.

He told me he had two sons.

“Are they out there,” I said, nodding toward the field. “O, no. They are grown. I’m a “Big Brother. I’m here watching my little brother.”

“Do your sons live nearby?” I asked.

“No they are both in the Chicago area.”

“Really. What kind of work do they do?”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause and then he said, “O, really I don’t know. I haven’t seen them for years. I was divorced from their mother years ago. She’s turned them against me. They really aren’t interested in keeping in touch. I’m not sure what they do.”

We stood silently looking out on the field choking back the sadness of it. In a distant city he has sons and perhaps grandsons and granddaughters. They don’t know him and he doesn’t know them, and on a perfect spring evening he doesn’t even know what they are doing. They don’t know what he is doing. He volunteers to be a significant other in the life of a child who has been sucked into the vortex of fatherless America.

How sweet to be alive when the world is alive with spring. How sweet to watch the sun go down on the baseball field, munching a hot dog, smelling the popcorn, knowing that in a few hours you will tuck your sons into bed in the next room. You will lie in bed with your wife, her face on your chest going to sleep with the beat of your heart.

And in the darkness you listen to her breathe and you breathe a prayer of thanks that comes from deep within your soul for all the family still gathered under one roof.

Ken Pierpont

Real Faith is Simple Faith (Sermon) Audio

Real Faith is Simple Faith

Bethel Church–Jackson, Michigan

August 19, 2018 AM

Pastor Ken Pierpont

http://kenpierpont.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/Real-Faith-is-Simple-Faith.mp3

Real Faith is Simple Faith (Sermon) Video

Real Faith is Simple Faith

Bethel Church–Jackson, Michigan

August 19, 2018 AM

Pastor Ken Pierpont

In A Cluster of Maples

http://kenpierpont.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/lakelyn-dale.m4aOn Sunday our daughter Hannah and her husband Dale came to visit. They are traveling through the valley of the shadow of death and they didn’t want to it alone.

They came over from their home in Grand Haven to visit. They brought their broken hearts with them. We stood in a very, very sad little circle by a cluster of trees on Bittersweet Farm and committed the remains of their precious little Lakelyn Dale to the earth.

Lois put a statue of a little girl over the spot and with that gesture the ground there became holy ground–a sacred place. Wendell Berry once wrote;

“There are no un-sacred places;

there are only sacred places

and desecrated places”

For the most part I deeply agree with the statement, but this little spot at the foot of the shady cluster of maples became especially consecrated to us in that moment.

In giving tiny Lakelyn Dale a place on the earth and in speaking her name, I could feel a measure of healing flow into each of our hearts. We held hands and prayed and tears feel to the green earth.

Today they will celebrate their fifth anniversary. The day Hannah was married she danced and I’ve never seen her so joyful. Sunday she mourned and I’ve never seen her so sad.

There is a time to weep and there is a time to laugh

There is a time to mourn and there is a time to dance

This is a season of weeping and mourning. There will be sunny days of laughter and dancing again… like the day we all see the little girl named Lakelyn we never met but loved for a few weeks.

Ken Pierpont

Bittersweet Farm

Summit Township, Michigan

August 15, 2018

Banana Bread

Sometimes I just crave banana nut bread. I imagine a fresh slice with light butter next to steaming cup of coffee. I give little hints to the ladies about that from time to time.

“Sure would love some banana nut bread one of these days.” I frequently say to the girls. Lois always says the same thing. “Pick up the ingredients and I will make you some.” And then I get something else on my mind and forget.

One winter morning on the way out the door I said, “Why don’t you ever make banana nut bread?” Lois said, “Because you never remember to bring me the ingredients.”

My thoughts shifted to my work. I had calls to make. I drove across town to the neat little home of a widow in our church and knocked on the door. She was eager to visit. She let me in and said, “Excuse me pastor, I need to get some baking out of the oven.”

“What are you baking?” I asked, but I knew the answer before I asked the question.

“Banana bread.”

“With nuts?”

“Yes, always with nuts.” I smiled. God is good. My mouth watered.

We visited for about a half hour the smell of the bread lingering in the air. I kept wondering how long it would take the bread to cool. Finally I pretended to leave. “Well, I’d better get going,” I said waiting for her to offer me some of the fresh baked bread. She stood and thanked me for my visit. I prayed with her and said goodbye.

I walked dejectedly to the car, started it up and drove slowly away. I watched the door thinking any moment it would fly open and I would be on my way with a loaf of fresh baked banana bread. It never did. Sometimes it is impossible to know why some things happen. I still think about that every once and a while. I suppose even though God loves me he knows it is important to remind me from time to time that the whole world doesn’t revolve around me. All Banana nut bread does not belong to me.

This story “mysteriously” leaked out and other bakers in the church made me banana nut bread to compensate for the cruel disappointment I had suffered. Oh, it was good, even though I had to use questionable methods to get it. Good coffee and warm banana nut bread are strong consolation when you are recovering from bitter disappointment. If you are capable of making good banana nut bread you might want to remember that if you ever see anyone around who looks disconsolate.

Kenneth L. Pierpont

ken@kenpierpont.com

Riverfront Character Inn International Conference Center

Flint, Michigan

July 14, 2003

Bittersweet Farm Journal (Number 12) At The River

Bittersweet Farm Journal (Number 12)

August 9, 2018

On Bittersweet Farm every day is a beautiful day

and the little light in the kitchen is always on.

July was almost ideal on Bittersweet Farm with warm, sunny days and evenings cool enough to sleep with the windows open. The corn is in the tassel now and we are surrounded by peaceful country sounds. 

Our neighbor says he saw a coyote the other night. That is not good news for the turkey population. On my walk yesterday morning I happened upon a deer stand over a path along a stone wall in a line of trees. It will soon be that time of year. I suppose then I will need to go afield in hunter orange. 

It’s important to keep a warm and tender heart. Here is a memory aimed to help.

Shall We Gather At The River

I’m still trying to remember what we were doing there. I suppose it was a simple day-off adventure. It was in the days, sweet to my memory, when all the children were still at home. We all slept every night in rooms just a few yards away from each other those days. We took all our simple meals together, usually goulash or spaghetti or tuna casserole or cheap pizza picnics washed down with cans of pop purchased from Woosleys (which they call Bullocks) in Mt. Vernon. 

There were ten souls in our household so our lives then alternated between stoic struggle and unabated laughter. Those days were more precious than we had any idea of when we were spending them. I wonder as I key these words onto the screen if one day I will look back on today in the same way. 

Come to think of it I am sure we were on one of those simple family outings that day. I liked to call it “following the hood ornament” because I usually had no idea where we would end up thought it usually involved a craft shop of some kind and a bookstore of some kind—these to fuel and to inspire my creativity with stories and words and Lois’s creativity with crafts and such. 

The hood ornament led us to a State Park a few miles south of quaint Loudenville—The Mohican State Park.

The roads turn through the park under dark canopies of leafy trees climbing and descending hills. A river runs through it… The Clear Fork of the Mohican River. It follows a narrow gorge most of the way through the park and merges into the Black Fork to form the Mohican.

It’s a beautiful park. There is a picturesque spot where the river flattens out and runs over a shallow bed of rocks. Over that spot is a covered bridge. It’s a beautiful spot. The bridge crosses a wide span high over the river. 

I think we might have had some sodas and snacks and we were sitting along the river when some vans began to pull in and park. A large group of Amish or Mennonite families began gathered. The children had wagons and balls and they ran directly to the river and began to splash and swim and play in the shallow water. The men carried baskets to the picnic tables and the woman began to spread out tables full of food. They came ready. 

When the food was ready they called the children in. The man moved their clusters of conversation over to the tables. The children gathered ‘round. Grace was said and the group went noisily at their picnic.

Our children finished their snacks and began to play. Lois and I sat and talked quietly—an excuse to watch the Mennonites. They were not low-Amish but Beachy Amish or Mennonite. The ladies all wore pastels. The men word broad breeches. They made a wholesome looking group from where we sat. 

When happened next is what burned the memory indelibly into my heart. The food put away, the families all gathered in a circle on the grass. Soon the noise of water running over rocks was playing under the sound of beautiful hymns—well-known and sung a’capella in four parts. It was a beautiful song. It was a winsome sight. There along the river, under the shad of spreading trees and in the sight of the old bridge—they were gathered at the river. 

One of the songs they sang was an old song I had sung hundreds of times—but alway indoors—never while gathered at the river. There on the margin of the river the song brought tears to my eyes. 

As long as I live I will always seek out a group who have the songs of Zion in their hearts and on their lips. And when my life as we know it on this earth ends I will enter the presence of Jesus were angels roar their praise around the Throne of God. 

Ken Pierpont

Bittersweet Farm

Summit Township, Michigan

August 10, 2018

People Over Things, Eternity Over Time, Unseen Over Seen (Sermon) Video

Real Faith: The Epistle of James

People Over Things, Eternity Over Time, Invisible Over Visible (James5:1-6)

Bethel Church–Jackson, Michigan

August 5, 2018 AM