Camp Gideon

Camp Gideon is in Aa, Estonia. The village is in northern Estonia, on the southern coast of the Gulf of Finland. One cannot help but be moved by the natural beauty. The camp itself was built prior to World War II by the Soviet Union. At that time, it was a Pioneer Camp, where communism and atheism were taught to the young. The fall of communism in 1991 changed everything. In time, Estonia became an independent country and Camp Gideon found a new purpose.

During the summers of 1993 and 1994, Camp Gideon was used by the Estonian United Methodist Church. On March 15, 1995, Camp Gideon was purchased by the Asbury United Methodist Church of Tulsa, Oklahoma and given to the United Methodist Church of Estonia. On that day Artur Põld was named the Director of Camp Gideon. He still holds that position today.

From the very beginning, American friends have supported Camp Gideon- both spiritually and financially. Every summer, several groups of volunteers from the United States arrive at Camp Gideon to organize children’s programs and help repair the time-worn buildings. Over the years, Camp Gideon has become internationally known in Latvia, Russia, Finland, Sweden, Belarus, Germany and beyond. Thanks to the ministries of Camp Gideon, hundreds of children hear about Jesus each camp season. Together with the guests of Camp Gideon, several mission events have been organized, including family camps, Walks to Emmaus, and Summer Conference of the UMC in Estonia.

In 2019, my wife Kathryn and I visited Camp Gideon. We were moved by the work of these people. Since that visit she has raised thousands of dollars to help with the reconstruction of the buildings. Currently there are fifteen buildings on the 61-acre camp. With the pandemic ending, it is now possible to return to Estonia once again. We long to return to Camp Gideon to see the progress that has been made. It is truly a resurrection story. A camp that once taught communism and atheism is now teaching the Good News of Jesus Christ.

You can help Camp Gideon in two ways. First, pray for Camp Gideon. Our prayers are more valuable than we will ever know. Second, prayerfully consider making a financial contribution to Camp Gideon. No amount is too small. It is amazing what God can do with a single dollar. Please make your check out to PROJECT ORPHAN OUTREACH and mail it to 275 Bradford Drive, Canfield, Ohio, 44406. You will receive a thank-you note for your contribution and will receive a report on the progress.

In advance, I would like to thank you for your generosity.

My Father

We are in the twenty-second chapter of Genesis. This story does not stand in isolation. It is just one in a series of stories about Abraham. Much has already happened. When we were introduced to him, his name was Abram. That name means “the father of many.” Of all the people on the face of the earth, Abram caught God’s eye. Not because of his sinless nature or his good looks. Instead, he caught God’s eye because of his character. In other words, he was a man who simply wanted to please God. In one of the great stories in the Bible, God promised Abram that he would someday be a father of a great nation. In time, his name is changed from Abram, the father of many, to Abraham, the father of the multitude. Everything sounds great except for one glaring fact. For many years, Abraham had no children. Abraham and his wife, Sarah, welcomed their first-born into the world at the age of ninety-nine and ninety-eight. That birth not only ruined their retirement plans, but it demonstrated the power of God. They named their long-awaited son Isaac. All of this is necessary to understand our scripture lesson.

When Isaac was twelve years old, God decided to test Abraham’s priorities. God must be number one in your life. The father-son team head off to make a sacrifice. Isaac does not know until the last second that he, himself, is the sacrifice. In the end, the life of a goat was taken, and the boy is spared. It is a cruel story in many ways. However, what I love about the story is it illustrates for us Abraham was a good father.With Abraham in mind, let me make three statements about fatherhood.

First, fathers deserve to be respected. In the Genesis story, Isaac respected his father. He even let him tie him up and laid him on the altar. Let me say this clearly. Respect should never be given blindly. Respect must be earned. Fatherhood is not simply a biological act. Fatherhood is a relationship. What are you doing with your life to earn your children’s respect? Fathers deserve to be respected.Do you, did you, respect your father?

Second, fathers deserve to be trusted. It really is quite a scene. Abraham and Isaac travel to a remote location. When the time comes for the sacrifice, the father bounds his son. Abraham draws his knife to slay Isaac. At the last second God stops the killing. All these years later it is still shocking. Today, someone would have called Children’s Services. Yet, there is no sign in the story Isaac stops trusting Abraham. Fathers deserve to be trusted. Do you, did you, trust your father?

Third, fathers deserve grace. Isaac must have needed some serious counseling after that day. He must have had a million questions and he must have had some sleepless nights. Yet, the relationship between Abraham and Isaac continued. Isaac forgave his father. I have never known a perfect father. However, I have known countless fathers who made mistakes and who needed to be forgiven. I have known fathers who have experienced grace. Maybe it is time you forgave your father? Fathers deserve grace. Do you, did you, offer your father grace? If not, it is not too late.

My father’s name was Ronald Adams, He was born in Ashtabula, Ohio in 1920. His father, my grandfather, Roger Adams, had a variety of jobs during the Great Depression. Growing up I never heard the word poverty, but money was always tight. My father was just a child during the depression, but the poverty of those years never left him. I have worked with many who lived through the Great Depression. They reacted to the Depression in one of two ways. Either they rejected poverty and became very generous. Or they feared poverty and became very frugal. My sister, Susan, is a much kinder person than me. She says our father was frugal. I say our father was cheap. For example, he would not even buy new socks. He held the old ones up with rubber bands. He never handled money easily. Saving money was one of his great preoccupations. I do not want to be remembered as being cheap. I want to be remembered by my children as generous.

On December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese Empire. My father was twenty-one years old. He and his brother, my Uncle Carlisle, volunteered for military service. My father joined the Army. My uncle joined the Navy. My uncle went to the Pacific. My father was in the medical corps and started off in North Africa. In time, as the war progressed, he moved up to the boot of Italy. He must have experienced and seen some horrible things. He died with those tales. He never spoke of those experiences. When the war ended in Europe, he prepared to move to Manila. The day before they were to leave, the orders were canceled because the first of the atomic bombs was dropped. When the war ended, my father arranged to stay in Europe. He wanted to do some sightseeing. It seemed to be a wise choice. He was in his mid-twenties, single with only a high school education, and unemployed. He saw many things that most only see in pictures. I believe those were the happiest days of his life.

When he returned home, he used his G.I. Bill to get an education. He was an interior decorator by trade. He first went to the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, then he went to the New York School of Interior Design. It was while he was in New York that he met my mother. They met at a social gathering at the Marble Collegiate Church. They were married at a Dutch Reformed Church in Brooklyn and had their wedding reception at my grandparent’s home around the corner. They spent their wedding night at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. Staying in New York was never an option. My father always wanted to return to Ohio, his home.

In time, they would move to a magical place called Warren, Ohio. They bought their first home when my twin sisters, Susan, and Janet, were born. I was born seven years later. My mother was a dietitian who worked at Trumbull Memorial Hospital. My father was a buyer for the Carlisle-Allen Department Store. As a child, I thought our home was boring. It was not until I became an adult that I discovered it was exceptional. Our home was always stable, and my parents rarely fought. My parents went to church every Sunday and to work every day. In those days loyalty was a big deal. My father stayed with the store for over thirty years. On the day he retired, no one noticed, because no one cared. He gave his life to “the store,” and he deserved better. Yet, several years later when “the store” closed, he grieved.

Can I be honest with you? I never felt close to my father. I really do not know why. I like to think we were both good people. Everybody seemed to like him. He intimidated me. I do not want to sound critical. However, I want to be honest. My father showed very little tolerance with me. I cannot remember a single time standing next to my father not feeling nervous. He never hit me, but I was always ready for his backhand. I was often the brunt of his jokes for his stand-up routine. I think it is better to be yelled at and taken seriously, then laughed at and be dismissed. I yearned to have a relationship with my father, but it never came. When my father died in 1996, I grieved. However, I did not grieve for the relationship we had, because we had no relationship. I grieved for the relationship we never had and never will.

My parents are buried near my home. During my time in the ministry, I have been to that cemetery several times. Each time, I visited their graves. Each time I go, several things strike me. First, time goes fast. My father died almost twenty-seven years ago. How could it be twenty-seven years? How fast will the next twenty-seven years go? I wonder where I will be twenty-seven years from now. I wonder if I will still be alive. Second, I have a good life. I can trace all the best things in my life back to my parents. My mother made sure our home was filled with love. There was always enough to eat and drink. Our clothes were clean. Our home was warm. My parents gave me what every child really wants and needs – stability. Third, the time has come for me to stop being critical of my father and start remembering him with grace. Time has taught me the best you can do is the best you can do. Perfection is impossible. I know my father did his best with me. It is not easy being a father. It is not easy being a parent. I am doing the best I can with my children. I hope they do not look for perfection. They did not receive it from me. I hope they look at me with grace. American author Kent Nerburn (born 1946) once said, “It is much easier to become a father than to be one.”

Everyone Welcomed?

We are in the tenth chapter of Acts, verses twenty-three through twenty-eight. It is a story of diversity. According to the text, Peter, a Jew, traveled to Caesarea. When he arrived, he was greeted by Cornelius, a Gentile. That fact alone is shocking to their world because Jews and Gentiles never mixed. However, the story is a little more complex. Cornelius considered Peter a celebrity, so he fell at Peter’s feet. It was his way of honoring Peter, but Peter reminded him of the big picture. Both men are equals. Because both men were created by God. It was not just true of their time. It is true of our time. That is an easy point to understand, but it is not an easy point to apply. That fact has been illustrated time and time again. Let me give you one example.

One of the great iconic figures in American history is Confederate General Robert E. Lee (1807-1870). There is an old story about Lee near the end of his life. He was in Washington DC. On Sunday morning he decided to go to church. It was Communion Sunday, so Lee went forward for the elements. As he was waiting to be served, a black man knelt beside him. Some in the congregation were shocked. An onlooker said to Lee later, “How could you do that?” Lee replied, “My friend, all ground is level beneath the cross.” May we never forget that point.

Everyone is the same internally. Everyone needs forgiveness and salvation. Everyone needs love and acceptance. Everyone needs hope for a better future. However, that does not mean everyone in the world is the same. Our world is extremely diverse. Our world is filled with all kinds of people. There are various races. There are various generations. There are many nations, so there are numerous political views. There are the extremely wealthy and the homeless. There are males and females. There are various sexual persuasions. There are the limited, and people who are whole. When you mix all those things together, one thing is perfectly clear. There are as many kinds of people as there are people. The church must be diverse to speak to our diverse world. The problem is the church has always struggled with diversity.

History tells us Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948) read the Gospels seriously during his student days. At one point he even considered becoming a Christian. He believed the teachings of Jesus were the answer to the caste system that was dividing the people of India. So, one Sunday, he decided to attend a Christian service and talk to the minister about becoming a Christian. When he entered the sanctuary however, the usher refused to give him a seat and suggested that he go worship with “his own people”. Gandhi left the church and never returned. “If Christians have caste differences also,” he said, “I might as well remain a Hindu.” That usher’s prejudice not only betrayed Jesus, but also turned a person away from trusting Him as Savior. Maybe that story is the story of the church today?

Maybe the thing you love about your church is the same thing that frustrates God about your church. Our churches are filled with people who are basically the same, but God is always looking for a diverse church to minister to our diverse world. In the text for today, the Gentiles added some diversity. How diverse is your church? Let me ask you these four questions.

How many races are represented at your church on an average Sunday? I hope the answer isn’t one.That may be fine with you, but God is looking for diversity. God needs a diverse church to speak to our diverse world.

How many generations are represented at your church on an average Sunday? Through the eyes of God, the higher the number, the better. The church was never meant to be a senior citizens center or a childcare facility. We need all generations. The church is the last place where all the generations mix. God needs a diverse church to speak to our diverse world.

How many political views are represented at your church on an average Sunday? Does everyone in your church hold politically conservative views? Is everyone in your church politically liberal? Do you think the President is doing a great job? Do you think the President is the worst one in American history? God needs a diverse church to speak to our diverse world.

How many theological viewpoints are represented at your church on an average Sunday? Are there any theological liberals in your church? Are there any theological conservatives in your church? Do you know of anyone who promotes civil religion? It used to be called pluralism. The only thing we must agree upon is Jesus. God needs a diverse church to speak to our diverse world.

It goes directly back to the scripture lesson for today. In the early church, everyone was the same, Jewish. Then came this story. Peter had the audacity to bring in not just a new person into the church, but a new kind of person into the life of the church, Gentiles. That was a good thing because the world was filled with Gentiles. We are Gentiles, non-Jews! The church must be diverse to speak to our diverse world. Can I be honest with you? Diversity has never bothered me.

One of the reasons I could work with anyone is, I went to high school with everyone. I am a proud graduate of Warren G. Harding High School in Warren, Ohio. I didn’t think much about it then, but I do now. Every portion of society was represented at Warren Harding in the mid-1970s. There were students with white faces and students with black faces. There were students who came from white-collar homes and students who came from blue-collar homes. There were students who spoke only English. There were students who spoke English and Spanish. There were students who spoke English and Greek. There were students who were being raised by their parents and students who were being raised by their grandmas. There were students who came from the richest part of the community, and students who came from government owned housing. There were preacher’s kids and children whose fathers or mothers were incarcerated. There were students who had a bright future, and students who had no future. At Warren Harding in the mid-1970s, every part of society was represented, and no one really cared. I experienced diversity daily. It was the norm. It was expected. We laughed at schools where everyone was the same. I got a wonderful education in Warren, but the most valuable thing I learned was how to tolerate others. When I get to heaven, I am going to thank my parents for not sending me to a school where everyone was the same. The diversity I experienced as a teenager made me a better adult. I was prepared for this diverse world.

Several years ago, I was celebrating my birthday. My daughters were still at home. It is the custom in my home that the birthday person gets to pick the restaurant for the celebration. Since it was my birthday, I got to pick. I usually shy away from chain restaurants and pick a restaurant that is locally owned. That year, I decided we were all going to Charlie Staples, on W. Rayen Avenue in Youngstown. I love those ribs because they are cooked with a “cup of love”. That is the tag line they use in their advertising. As the day got closer, I got more excited. I could taste those ribs.

When the day came, I was the first one in the car. When my daughters got in the car

they asked me, “Dad, where did you pick to have dinner?” I said, “Charlie Staples; their food is prepared with a cup of love.” As we drove to the restaurant, the quieter the back seat grew. As I left my white world and drove into the city, they weren’t talking at all. Then a small voice in the back seat asked, “Are we in the hood? Are we going to die?” Those words cut me to the heart.

I had deprived my children of something my parents gave me. My children had never experienced diversity. They were raised in an all-white community. They went to an all-white school. In their school everyone spoke one language, English. We went to an all-white church and all their friends were white. All their extra-curricular activities were filled with white faces. The only thing they knew was white. The only thing they knew about the non-white world was what they saw on television or heard from racist white people. As I ate my birthday meal, I was ashamed. I felt like a failure as a parent. I always knew they should have gone to Harding. I learned the most valuable things in life at Warren Harding. They weren’t close to entering a society where people were different from them. I am glad they grew up to be wonderful, open-minded women despite me. Can I ask you a question?

How comfortable are you with diversity? Are you going to spend the rest of your life surrounded by people who are just like you? Are you brave enough to experience something new? God needs a diverse church to speak to our diverse world. Never forget the old American proverb, “Variety is the spice of life”.

Living With Criticism

We find ourselves in the eleventh chapter of Acts, verses one through four and eighteen. Acts is known for the great story of Pentecost. The Holy Spirit was moving, and the church was growing. New converts were being welcomed, including Gentiles. There is really nothing to complain about, but this is the church. Drama has been part of church from the very beginning.

According to the text, Peter had returned to Jerusalem. His spirit must have been high. After all, everyone wants a growing church, or do they? According to verse three, he is greeted by some negative voices. The author describes them as circumcised believers. We would call them “Completed Jews.” They want to know why Peter had broken a long-standing rule about associating with Gentiles. Peter defends himself by simply telling the truth. In the verses between our reading, Peter tells them exactly what happened. I looked at it in my previous blog, The Day the Law Died. God summoned a Gentile, Cornelius, to invite Peter to his community. When he arrives, he tells the group about Jesus, and before the end of the day, they are all converted. It is God who welcomed the Gentiles into the church by the sending of the Holy Spirit. There is not much to say. If God is for it, then who can be against it? Verse eighteen says it clearly, “When they heard this, they had no further objections and praised God, saying, ‘So then, even to Gentiles God has granted repentance that leads to life.’” I wish I handled all my critics so easily.

I fell in love with this story the first time I read it. The point of the story is painfully clear. Peter is considered one of the greatest figures in the early church. Just think of everything he did for God. He followed Jesus for three years and experienced the Master firsthand. He was part of the inner circle, so he received special instruction. He was bold enough to get out of the boat and walk on the water for a few precious steps. He announced to the world for the very first time that Jesus was the Messiah. It was Peter who ran to the tomb on Easter morning to witness it for himself. It was Peter who spoke to the crowd before the winds of Pentecost blew. It was Peter who spoke to another crowd after the wind blew. It was Peter who healed the cripple (Acts 3). It was Peter who welcomed the Gentiles. Peter did so much; Peter was so much to the early church. If there was anyone who did not deserve to be criticized, it was Peter. But, in the story for today, Peter was criticized by people who had done nothing notable at all.

It reminds me of the story of George Whitefield (1714-1770) He was an Anglican cleric and evangelist who was one of the founders of Methodism and the Great Awakening in America. However, that does not mean he was not without his enemies. He was not really concerned about them, because he was more interested in pleasing God. At one point, Whitefield received a vicious letter accusing him of some wrongdoing. His reply was brief and courteous. He wrote:

I thank you heartily for your letter. As for what you and my other enemies are saying against me, I know worse things about myself than you will ever say about me.

With love in Christ, George Whitefield

I wish I could handle my critics so easily. Let me ask you two questions.

When was the last time you were criticized? When was the last time you criticized someone else? It happens all the time. Everyone gets criticized. That is what makes being in a position of authority so difficult. Let me ask you this series of questions.

Have you ever criticized a doctor?

Have you ever criticized your local school board?

Have you ever criticized a politician?

Have you ever criticized a professional athlete or celebrity?

Have you ever criticized your minister?

Have you ever criticized God for the condition of our world?

It is my experience that people in positions of authority have grown deaf to all the criticisms. They know most critics lack knowledge or skill. They know most criticisms come from passion, not expertise. You can admit it. Everyone gets criticized. Everyone criticizes. It has been that way from the beginning of time. Aristotle (384 B.C.- 322 B.C.) once said, “To avoid criticism, say nothing, do nothing, be nothing.” The goal is not to eliminate criticism. The goal is to handle criticism well. How well do you handle criticism?

One summer I returned to my church after vacation and discovered someone had mysteriously put up a suggestion box. I few days later the suggestion box mysteriously disappeared. Did you know the idea of the employee suggestion box started in Japan in 1721? That means it is 302 years old. Did you know, according to the NASS, the National Association of Suggestion Systems, only 3% of American companies have a suggestion box? I wonder why there aren’t more, because those companies who use suggestion boxes have saved two billion dollars. Could it be 97% of American companies don’t have suggestion boxes because they don’t want to open themselves up for criticism? That is why my church’s suggestion box mysteriously disappeared.

How open are you to criticism? I hope you are not like 97% of American companies. I hope you are open to criticism because constructive criticism can make you a better person. I learned years ago there are three things you must do when you find yourself being criticized. First, the next time you are criticized, evaluate the source. There are some people you want to listen to and some you don’t. Just because they have an opinion doesn’t make them an expert. You would be a fool to take advice from a fool. You would be a fool to listen to everyone. That sounds exhausting. Second, the next time you are criticized, evaluate your core values. That is what Peter did in today’s story. He was more concerned with pleasing God than man. Everyone’s core values are different. Did your action support your core values? In other words, who are you trying to please? Third, the next time you are criticized, evaluate your action. I do not want to shock you, but you do not know everything. You do not do everything perfectly, nor do I. The people who offer you productive criticism are the most valuable people in your life because they want you to become a better person. It is not easy to do but respect their honesty. In the scripture lesson for today, Peter didn’t run from the criticism. He didn’t ignore the criticism. Peter embraced the criticism and reminded himself that what he did was right! You may not be perfect, but there are times when you did the right thing! The best thing you can do with criticism is forget it.

In the spring of 1989, I was interviewed to be the pastor of a United Methodist Church in Garfield Heights, Ohio. I remember next to nothing about that interview, except the greatest challenge facing that church. It was a stagnant, aging congregation. They were hoping to rebuild their congregation. (Does that sound familiar? It sounds like every congregation in the mainline Protestant tradition.) Over the next five years, we experienced some success. We welcomed many new members, and I learned a great deal.

It did not take me long to discover why this church had been stagnant for so long. It had nothing to do with demographics. However, the community was predominantly retired Catholics. It had nothing to do with visibility. The building sat on a busy road. It had nothing to do with commitment. The people were devoted to their church. That congregation hadn’t grown for the same reason most churches don’t grow. A small group had seized control and smothered any new life. The small group does not mean to be controlling. Usually, they are sincere people who believe they know what is best for the whole. Sometimes, the controlling group includes the pastor. Sometimes, it does not. In that church’s case, the pastor had very little control. The controlling group was one family. I have changed their name to protect the guilty. Let me just call them the Peabody’s.

They ruled by intimidation. That family consisted of two generations. There was the father and mother. They had two adult sons, who had married nice women. The six Peabody’s dominated every committee within the life of that church. The church could have been called the Peabody United Methodist Church. If that church was ever going to grow, then the Peabody’s had to be dethroned from power.

I only had one thing going for me. I was the chair of the nominating committee. In my first two years in that parish, I nominated anyone who wasn’t afraid of the Peabody’s. The Peabody’s were controlling, but they were not stupid. They knew what I was doing. They confronted me in every way to hold on to the power. One thing was clear. The church had to choose between them and me. Without the support of other church members, I would have been gone. One man made it possible for me to stay. He changed my life and saved my career in the United Methodist Church. My last three years in Garfield Heights were wonderful, because the Peabody’s were gone. They left in a pile of ugly words pointed at me. They wrote those words down and sent them to the church’s administrative board chair, the Cleveland District Superintendent, and East Ohio Annual Conference Bishop.

I never heard from the District Superintendent or the Bishop. However, the board chair called me, and we met. Alone, he read me the letter with the ugly words. In colorful language, they said I was the problem because I was suffering from some kind of mental illness. He asked me if I wanted to respond. I responded by saying, “Maybe they are right? They are not the first to think I am crazy.” We laughed and the topic never came up again. When I left church, it was growing because the Peabody’s were gone. Let me end with three questions.

Question #1: Have you ever been criticized? The answer is yes. You might as well admit it. Everyone has been criticized. If you don’t want to be criticized, then do nothing at all. Then, people will criticize you for doing nothing. Being criticized is just part of the human experience. Perhaps, question #2 is a better question.

Question #2: How do you handle criticism? You only have two options. Either you can ignore it, or you can embrace it. Dismiss the criticism that comes from fools or people who have an agenda. Embrace the criticisms that come from people who are trying to make you a better person.

Question #3: How long do you hold on to criticism? I hope not long. The best criticisms are designed to improve your life, not damage it. This is the day the Lord has made, rejoice and be glad in it. Norman Vincent Peale (1898-1993) once said, “The trouble with most of us is that we would rather be ruined by praise than saved by criticism.”