Nine months ago one of the biggest issues facing most of us was the high price of gasoline. Most people would never have dreamed that the price of a single gallon of regular unleaded would sell for $4.00. That particular cost increase affected all of us.
I remember driving around during that time—whether it was to a meeting, visiting our friends, or going on hospital visits in several cities—and noticing some filling stations that had closed for various reasons. Some stations closed years ago as evident from years of neglect and decay, while other stations closed fairly recently within the past few years.
What struck me most when passing by these now defunct stations was the price of gas at the time of their closing. Remember now, I was paying well into the mid three dollars a gallon and very emotional about each tank full.
One place listed their price $2.45. How I would have loved paying that price back then. Another location closed when gas cost only $2.89; still well below my current cost. What surprised me was how I reacted to gas costing $1.75 or even $1.99. I only dreamed of those days and somewhere deep inside conceded that we might not ever get back down to those prices.
Much has changed since then. The housing bubble created a drastic bust for financial giants as they revealed their true balance sheets. Our economy quickly went south as more and more companies experienced the ripple effect of a slowing economy and tighter lending practices. Even the world economy experienced a slowdown resulting in less demand for products as imports and exports. This cumulative effect had one benefit for the consumer, the price of gasoline tumbled to more reasonable levels.
Now as I drive by those closed gas stations, the price on the marquee makes me more appreciative of our current cost. I know not everyone feels that way but my wallet feels a little better.
It got me thinking how such changes can produce an emotional effect on us. Had it not been for the drastic swing in prices in a very short period of time, we might have tolerated the change. There’s an old saying, “How do you boil a frog? Very slowly.” We can adjust to little incremental changes and not feel so threatened. But something big and drastic means we become more vocal and less tolerant.
Seeing a picture of this church back in the early 1920s reveals hundreds of people outside posing for a snapshot that documented the opening of our current building. I don’t know if all the people are members or not, but it’s very impressive. My question is this, “What happened to all those folks and why are we a fraction of our previous times?” Some people remember the church when the pews were full each week (even before air conditioning). What’s changed?
I suspect that a gradual decline allowed for us to not notice the reduction in numbers. And once a new “normal” was established it became more acceptable worshiping with a small crowd. The longer people were away, the more we determined they might not return; therefore, we accepted the change.
I hope that we can become more diligent about seeing our missing brothers and sisters each week and start to make a better commitment to let them know they are missed. Sometimes this requires a phone call, sometimes a quick note, and at other times it requires nothing more than walking across the room at work and asking how they’re doing and letting them know the church misses them. Remember, YOU are Christ’s ambassadors (2 Corinthians 5:20). YOU have the power and responsibility for caring for those who have missed several Sundays (Hebrews 10:24, 25). And it takes YOU to make a difference in the future of this church (1 Cor. 3:8-15). Remember, through our baptism and membership vows, we are all in this together.
I look forward to seeing you at the reliability making place on Sunday,
