The Journey Continues: Ministry Facing Challenge and Change

By Dr. Ron Hansen

The Journey Continues: Ministry Facing Challenge and Change will travel though the mountain and plains states. The quest for meaning that began in Journey to God will be expanded through the challenges and changes of raising a family, facing the ever changing expectations of ministers, church, and faith in God.

Our young family is now a family with teenagers, driver licenses, cars, and dating. The one-salaried family becomes a two-salaried family with positive and negative reactions. Maintaining a Christian presence in the face of negative comments and ridicule is part of the experience of serving God in our world.

During the doctoral program, some role reversal takes place as teenagers ask dad to see his report card along with, Have you done your homework yet? The teens and dad take over cooking duties as Moms work schedule changes. A new experience of burnt offerings at the dinner table becomes frequent.

The ministry will face questions that challenge the role of ministers, campus ministers, and chaplains in the face of a fast growing improvement in health care, technological advances in communication, information, and office equipment. The computer age opens the doors to the inexperienced to enter the job market ahead of or replacing of older, experienced workers. As change continues, values are modified or set aside. The bottom line and compliance issues take the place of hard work and customer service. The idea of being kind to others changes to a get yours before they get theirs attitude.

Attempting to serve when the church was moved from the mainstream to the sidelines is part of the challenge change brings. Having to prove something that once was taken for granted is part of regaining an awareness of the value of the Christian Faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Dec 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490861715

Dr. Ron Hansen

Dr Ron is an ordained minister with an earned doctorate. He writes a column entitled “I Believe.” Dr. Ron has served congregations for 50+ years. Dr Ron and his wife Robbie have four grown children, eight grand-children, and two great grand children. They make their home in Cherokee, Oklahoma.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-6186-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-6172-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-6171-5 (e)

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/25/2014

Contents

Dedicated To

Author’s Note

Acknowledgments

Preface

Ron

Caldwell, Idaho, 1975–1978 Treasure Valley Christian Church

Hobart, Oklahoma, 1978–1983 First Christian Church

Dr. Ron

Bozeman, Montana, 1983–1989 Grand Avenue Christian Church

Pratt, Kansas, 1989–1991 First Christian Church

Okmulgee, Oklahoma, 1992–1998 First Christian Church

Temporary Duty 1998–2000

Cherokee, Oklahoma, 2000–2012 First Christian Church

Ministry Of The Pew November 1, 2012

DEDICATED TO

Robbie

Wife and partner in life and ministry

Sharon, Margaret, David, and Peter

Having lived in our journey, they are on their own

Bruce (brother) and Valerie (sister)

Who asked that I write something that became something more

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Rev. Ronald W. Hansen, DMin

aka Ronnie, Ron, Dr. Ron

b. February 27, 1939–d. not yet

T his book is organized via two of the three names I have most often been known by. The major divisions are subdivided into time slots or ministry positions. It seemed to the best way to describe this journey.

This journey includes the call and experience of a ministry. There are ups and downs in the story. Some think that if one is called, one no longer has ups and downs. Yet consider Moses, the prophets, Jesus, and the apostles: all had ups and downs.

I invite you, the reader, to take this journey. Reflect on the purpose of this journey’s attempt to discover whether there is a divine presence active in our day and in our time.

All Bible quote are from: The New Oxford Annotated Bible, 3rd Edition (Oxford University Press, 2001)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Ronnie and Cathy Wessells

Who have generously supported the Ministry of the Pew

Reverend Edward E. Jones, Jr.

Our Cherokee pastor, friend, and peer

Reverend Ronald Eldridge and Dixie

Who have been friends in ministry for over fifty years

Bethel Baptist Church of Cherokee

Who have opened their doors and hearts to us

Marsha Tucker, editor of Cherokee Messenger & Republican

Who offered me my first guest column, titled I Believe

WestBowPress

My publisher and staff: Maurice Broadus and Gwen Ash

PREFACE

H ave you ever wondered where ministers or priests come from? Or others taking a different road?

Here is one story that chronicles a journey beginning in the twentieth century and continuing into the twenty-first century. The last half of the twentieth century experienced more changes than all the centuries heretofore. Yet the experience of the New Testament century still makes an impact on at least one individual—me.

I have two identities along this journey. Ron was a name that emerged in junior high due to there being too many Ronnies in the room. Dr. Ron was the name that became a common usage among children, youth, and adults after I earned a graduate degree.

Two of my siblings are still living. Bruce, born in the early Ronnie era, and Valerie, born in the Ron era, requested that I write something about myself. The eulogies I wrote for Dad and for my stepmom filled in the years prior to my siblings’ emergence into the world. However, this only added up to about ten years with Dad and five years with Norma, his wife, prior to my high school graduation. This writing covers earlier Norma and I years plus several decades when we were more on the periphery of each other’s lives, visiting as often as time schedules allowed.

So, Bruce and Val have inspired this writing project. But if they were looking for another eulogy, they are on their own. Eulogy is not what I think of me, but what they think of me.

RON

CALDWELL, IDAHO, 1975–1978

TREASURE VALLEY

CHRISTIAN CHURCH

T he movers were packing our Houston home for the move to Caldwell. We noticed the van doors were closed and no one was in sight. Later, the doors were opened and the loading was completed.

The movers were scheduled to unload in two days. Thus, we would have one day for my wife Robbie to see the house and get an idea where to put things. We drove through the night and arrived in Caldwell at noon. While eating lunch, I called the office and discovered the movers had already arrived and the movers were unloading.

We ate quickly and went to the house. There we found all our items in one room. It had seemed to the deacon to be the best place to put them until we arrived. However, we had noted for the movers that they were not to begin unloading until we arrived.

The movers were sitting on the couch, as they were not moving things twice. My comment was, The longer you sit, the longer it will be before unloading is complete. It’s your choice.

Our board chairwoman came and saw the idle movers. Well, the van won’t unload itself. We have all day. Do you?

Motion began, and the unloading was completed—except for the sewing machine cabinet, which they had broken in Houston. (Remember the closed van doors?)

The movers wanted the load signed off as delivered. However, if we signed, the cabinet repair would not be done at their expense. So I refused to sign. Telephone calls went back and forth until the company agreed to repair the cabinet. Then we signed.

This was an interesting entrance, but one that did not reflect badly on the family. What surprised the vand driving crew was that one driver, one wife, four kids, and a dog had almost beat two professional drivers to Caldwell—even though I was not aware we were racing.

The parsonage had a full, finished basement, allowing for a laundry room, two bedrooms, and a playroom. (We didn’t call it a rec room, as it might have given the kids ideas.)

From the back window, we could see the Lutheran parsonage and the back of the education unit. A block-and-a-half walk was no problem. Our church, Treasure Valley Christian Church (TVCC), shared a facility with Faith Lutheran. The sanctuary, offices, and parking lot were on our half of the city block. The education unit, parsonage, and play yard were on their half.

A cooperative committee was made up of members of both congregations. The committee was responsible for the property, with no this is your bill, this is our bill conversations. The budget was supported equally by both congregations, with major repairs to be voted on before contracts were signed. This worked out well.

The joint choir sang at both services, with the others leaving for their Sunday school while the worshippers stayed. As Sunday school and worship were side by side and open to all, we sometimes had the others of us worshipping and studying together. It allowed an early service for each congregation, where some might come before leaving for the day. Offering envelopes were available so that each contribution went to the congregation noted.

The baptistery was built into the entryway. A moveable railing kept folks from falling into it. It was different for me to look up at the audience and down at the candidate. Lutherans joined us for baptisms, because friendships spanned the memberships. Though they could use the baptistery, their tradition was to use a baptismal font in the sanctuary.

Each September we switched early and late worship services. We Disciples, [Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)], already learned to have Sunday school as a second service every other year. It was really interesting that as September approached, there was a thought of "Let’s not change." Fortunately, the switch was mandated.

We had two secretaries, which allowed each minister and congregation to talk with their own secretary. However, the secretaries took messages and gave out information no matter which congregant was calling.

There was a monthly calendar behind the secretaries’ desk. All regularly scheduled events, including worship services, were listed. Weddings and meetings were listed as well. Funerals took precedence.

We lifted the calendar pages to add future events, particularly weddings. After a while, it seemed a good idea to move two calendar pages over, so three months could be seen at once and there was less lifting. When we did that, it seemed we were moving the calendar daily. And the time did seem to fly by more quickly.

Our janitor worked with both ministers, particularly about setting up tables and arrangements for meetings. She was a character, which was great for both of us. She took care of us as though we were her sons. She even got after us if we were goofing off or having a pity party. She often picked up after us, because we tended to leave our coffee cups somewhere other than the office. The previous Lutheran minister hadn’t gotten along with her for some reason. Therefore, his coffee cup stayed where it was. She didn’t hide it, but she thought about it.

There was an interim minister serving TVCC when I interviewed. He said he’d be out of the way before I arrived. As this was normal practice, I wasn’t sure why he said it. He did move out of the parsonage, but he also died the week before we arrived. There was a little frustration and some guilt among church leaders. They were happy for the quick transition, but dying seemed a little extreme. His wife was in Arizona, so we had no opportunity to give follow-up care to her. We called the Arizona office to be sure someone knew about the death and her being in Arizona without family.

Treasure Valley came out of First Christian Church (FCC) in downtown Caldwell. FCC went to another church group, and TVCCers wanted to continue to be connected to the Disciples. Once they organized and built their half of the complex, they called their first minister. Nine years later, he moved on to Spokane, Washington.

As close as he had been to the TVCC leadership and membership, there was a bit of surprise and sense of rejection at his departure. Even though there were eighteen months between the time he left and the time I arrived, these feelings were still strong. One day, in frustration, a teenager complained, I don’t know why you came and he had to leave.

I responded, Well you have this a little backward. He left, and later I came. However, why he left is not something I can answer. I can say that I am glad to be here.

Treasure Valley, our new home, was the name of an area between Boise, Idaho, and Ontario, Oregon. This area and some adjacent areas were known for their agricultural output. Ninety percent of the seed wheat for the USA was grown here. Other farm products, including potatoes and sugar beets, were also grown.

The Snake River ran from Yellowstone Park west, southwest, and again west across Idaho, turning north to become the Idaho-Oregon state line. Other rivers from the mountains to the north fed the Snake. These rivers provided the water for the flood irrigation district that extended from Boise to Ontario.

Piping off the irrigation canal went to farmlands and cities. Each farm and household had its own day and/or portion of the day to irrigate crops or yards. The open ditches in the fields were maintained with shovels to keep the water flowing.

Disagreements over who had the right to use the water occurred at the switch control. The rumor was there were more shovel fights over water than over women. I found that serious comment to be true when I called on one of our widows. I found her sitting on a folding chair, with a shotgun loaded and in her lap. As I approached, she lifted the shotgun. Oh, it’s just the preacher, she said.

Yes, ma’am. There is nothing to worry about. Your water is too far from the parsonage anyway, I quickly assured her.

Well, I guess I won’t be putting holes in your hide today. Pretty quick on the uptake, she was.

The Lutherans had several churches in the Treasure Valley. Every Tuesday the ministers had a sack lunch in one of the churches. They would chat about the lectionary for the coming Sunday.

I joined them when the meeting was held in our complex. Listening to their thoughts and which Scriptures they might highlight, I began to think about the lectionary as a good way to plan ahead. As our program calendar began printing a lectionary, I decided to try it out.

While the Lutherans believed reading a passage was valuable in itself, it did not bother them to read passages they were not going to comment on. I wondered what would happen if I commented on the three main passages, using the book of Psalms as the call to prayer.

It was a chore to study all three passages and see how these three readings from different parts of the Old and New Testaments were chosen to be read together. I never found an answer, although in some readings, the cross-references were obvious.

After a while, I began to see a theme running through them. Whether it was the same theme the lectionary committee saw or not, it worked for me. In fact, when the cycle of readings came around, I saw a different emphasis each time. Perhaps experiences around us have an impact on what the Bible says to us. Though written centuries ago, it seemed to fit the daily news more often than not.

When we planted our first flood-irrigated garden, we learned from the neighbors a variety of helpful hints. Don’t plant until the snow is off the Owyhees, was helpful, because a few early warm days misled many into thinking spring had sprung. Early plantings would undoubtedly suffer a hard freeze—and there would be no garden unless there was time to replant.

During World War II, asparagus was grown by the acre in the region. Later, most asparagus fields were plowed under for planting other crops. However, asparagus will reseed itself and grow in moist areas far removed from cultivated fields. Having someone show you where asparagus might be was a sign of acceptance into our Treasure Valley neighborhood.

We had neighbors on the corner lot. They had three children to our four, though one of ours was more an infant than a kid to play with. They had a Rottweiler dog. It was in a pen next to our fence. The neighbor trained it not to bark when he came home, he thought. Tank would whine, our collie would bark, and Tank would wag his tail. The neighbor never heard the whine, but he complained about the barking a lot.

One night he called because our dog was keeping him awake. I mentioned that our dog was in the house and in fact was standing next to me as we spoke.

He came out of the house with his flashlight, shining it all over the backyard. No dog. As we stood there, both of us heard my dog barking. The collielike bark was coming across the back fence from the neighbors’ property. But they had no dog. Apparently the echo of a dog barking nearby was bouncing off the houses and into our yards.

Later, when they moved to a new home, my former neighbor discovered his training was not complete. Tank broke out of the new pen and barked constantly. We met later at the hospital where he worked, and he told me that now he was the bad neighbor with the barking dog. He wished he had not moved.

The icing on the cake for us was the beauty of the mountain area and the short journey to see Robbie’s family. We could leave early in the morning and drive to Salem, Oregon, in nine hours rather than twenty-eight hours. We would have a short visit as her grandmother tired easily. On the way home, we could visit another relative in Portland.

As this made for a long day and night, we did it as a quarterly trip, using days off to travel and visit. Driving over the Blues and seeing the Columbia River Gorge and Mount Hood in the west was a beautiful sight. We didn’t need vacations, though the every-other-year church assembly gave us a vacation-style excursion.

Living in Caldwell provided a pleasant culture shock. We discovered we were not as tense as in Houston. The traffic was less, and we found ourselves early for many meetings. Five to ten minutes covered most of our congregational travel. The shopping center was only twenty minutes away. It was even more popular than the one in Boise.

Another benefit on the way to the mall was a book sale or swap store. It had some new books but mostly had used. One could take in two books and swap for one. One could purchase used books at a reduced price. The new book section was smaller but popular. We practically lived there, as our kids liked to read and to have books too.

Living in a smaller population zone surprisingly enough provided some opportunities larger communities might not allow. For example, whoever was the minister at TVCC was on the migrant ministry committee. We saw to the care of the housing complex for migrants who came seasonally to work the crops. Schooling and health care were part of our program as well. Working with state services and local schools and hospitals provided a wide area of influence. Decisions being made in these social service areas depended on our input.

Of interest to me was that while all of the migrants spoke Spanish, differences in dialects were such that they had a hard time communicating with each other. Sometimes we would be the translators between Spanish speakers!

With fifteen congregations spread over nine hundred miles from east to west, our regional meetings happened in the middle. The pastor and two lay members from each congregation made up the regional board, with some chairpeople as additional members.

I was assigned to the committee on ministry and was elected chairman at the first meeting. It was the same chairmanship my predecessor had. What they did in the interim, I didn’t ask.

We carpooled from Boise to the meeting in Jerome. I drove our member’s car from Caldwell and picked up the rest of the carload, and we all traveled east to the meeting. It was an overnight stay. This was one quarterly meeting the rivaled Texas for mileage.

The Ecumenical Churches of Idaho was another organization in which our congregation had leadership positions, clergy and laity. The ecumenical officer was the wife of one of our pastors in Boise.

The mental health association also was supported by TVCC. These meetings were informative. We covered mental health issues and their solutions. Their annual fundraising dinner involved people buying a table of eight for the meal and an auction. Bids on paintings and sculptures donated by local artists or by the wealthy provided the major funds of the evening.

It bothered some that alcohol was served, knowing that the more people drank, the more they would purchase. It seemed contradictory to encourage excessive drinking in order to fund treatment for some excessive drinkers.

I was recruited as a civil air patrol chaplain. I had served in CAP during my high school years in Norfolk, Virginia. It was a way to reconnect to my military heritage. As I didn’t get to serve in the navy as chaplain—openings were not available—this was my way to assist. As chaplain, I was an auxiliary officer for the air force. When a funeral service for a veteran occurred and the chaplains at the air base could not attend, I represented the air force and the United States, and presented the flag to the family.

A college student who served as a substitute secretary for the Lutherans suggested my name as an adjunct professor of philosophy and religion. Thus I started my college teaching career.

Oh yes, the Caldwell Ministerial Alliance involved itself in a variety of ways, interacting with social services and providing chaplain services to the college and the hospital. They planned an Easter sunrise service at Lizard’s Butte, southeast of Caldwell, about halfway toward Nampa. It was a black stone outcrop that did look like a lizard from a distance. Weddings were held there sometimes. It was kind of weird to see Lizard Butte in an invitation.

Another interesting couple, a man and wife, were both characters. He farmed several thousand acres of wheat, potatoes, and sugar beets. She paid the migrant workers in cash. One day she lost her purse at church. We found it. She then said, Thank goodness. There’s $2,500 in there to pay the hands, and the bank is already closed. Being wealthy did not make her a spendthrift; she clipped coupons and cut unmarked stamps off envelopes.

He was a free spirit. As a grandpa sixty-plus years old, he roller-skated often with the grandkids or just when he felt like it. His Cadillac had a key in the trunk at all times. It was his handle to open the trunk. Every winter they went to Las Vegas. Sometimes they drove. While they stayed and played, the key was still in the trunk. They never lost a thing in all those years due to their Caddy’s having a key visible to all who passed by their car.

One year, someone asked him why he went to Las Vegas to gamble. Wasn’t gambling a sin? His response: I don’t go to Las Vegas to gamble. I go to play. I come home to gamble. I put in $250,000 of seeds per season and hope to have a crop to cover expenses and perhaps a profit. Now, that’s gambling!

Though he was not a member, they supported the church financially. One time, she had a stewardship meeting at the house for a barbeque. During the meeting, a member complained that the budget couldn’t be raised because of the taxes everyone had to pay. Her husband spoke up with, I paid one and a half million in taxes last year, and I still can up my support. What was your tax bill? After a pause, the man said it was not as much as his. Complaint ended.

The first Christmas was interesting. TVCC had a seven o’clock Christmas Eve candlelight service, and Faith Lutheran had an eleven to midnight candlelight service. Several families from both congregations came at seven. I went back at eleven and found several families with young children at the service. Apparently Lutheran kids can stay up later than Disciples kids.

We liked to explore any area we lived in. Driving around Canyon County and neighboring counties gave us a lot of sights to see. There was a cave opening in the middle of nowhere. The concrete bunker had a ladder going down. Spelunkers could enter and traverse the cavern’s passageways. Families could climb down as well, but a sign warned them that there were no security personnel to find them if they got lost.

There was a sight called Indian Bathtub that was a rocky area with water trickling down. Folks could sit in or slide down into the water. We took a road east into a desert area. It was dirt road with soft spots we dropped into, and the dust flew. We finally made it to a signpost. It was lying on the ground with its pointers flat. Trying to decipher which way to go was difficult.

Knowing that communities settled by the river, I climbed on top of the car and spotted a line of trees. The line marked the river. The road that went around the mound in front of us started away from the trees but turned toward the trees. The other road started toward the trees and then turned to venture into the desert. From the top of the car, I could see this oddity.

We finally came to the parking lot of the Balanced Rock near Buhl. As they had a curb around the lot, we had to find rocks to make a ramp up and a ramp down to enter the parking area. Once in, we enjoyed the Balanced Rock and the paved road to town.

While we were getting gas at the station, the attendant said, That’s a lot of dust on your car.

Yes. We just came across the desert from the Indian Bathtub.

You couldn’t have. There is no road, was his response.

Well, I am not going to back up now. We’ll just use the freeway west.

He shook his head at this nice-looking, but weird, family who drove into the desert with no extra food or water. Well, I agreed with him. The thought of breaking down and being stranded in one of those soft spots put our expedition in a different light. Never again.

Another trip took us down to the Snake River, where there was a power plant using the river’s flow to generate electricity for Silver City. This town was billed as a living ghost town and drew a lot of tourists during spring, summer, and fall. To get down, one drove from a cliff top down a twisting road to the bottom. Several car bodies were rusting along the way, marking those who had missed the turn at the top.

As the town was surrounded by cliffs, there was no telephone service for the power plant families. They used a mobile phone in the plant. Since it was mobile, they couldn’t mount the phone on one of the structure poles. They pulled a Jeep in, removed the motor, and chained it to the pole. The Jeep qualified as mobile since it could be pushed. One climbed into the Jeep to use the phone. It was their mobile phone booth that wasn’t mobile. It could be pushed if needed. It was the only way to be in compliance.

We went to Silver City a few times. Along the road were signs that said, Be aware of white horses in a snowstorm. At first we thought it was a joke. But later discovered that the Bureau of Land Management had one of the last wild horse herds in the nation in this area. Many of the horses were white. And it did snow in those mountains.

There was a road west out of Silver City. It started out wide and paved, became narrow and paved, then dirt, and finally ended at a pasturelike area with two tire tracks in the grass. We followed the two tracks and eased ourselves out of the pasture onto an Oregon highway to Jordan Valley. This highway was paved and marked for lanes. As we neared Jordan Valley, the paved road with a yellow dividing line entered a small tunnel. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the yellow line did not mark a two-lane road any longer. It was a one-lane tunnel.

Near Jordan Valley were markers along the road. These turned out to be claims. Persons and companies staked claims for the purpose of rock hunting. The many-colored and -shaped rocks were an industry in and of themselves. Tourists could stop and take a rock or two, but no large quantities could be removed. Signs invited and warned tourists at the same time.

We stopped for two reasons. We wanted to pick a few rocks. We also needed to find an area for all to go to the potty.

Robbie saw a rock formation that looked like it had an open area in the middle. It did. As she went down the hill, she jumped over small bushes. Suddenly, she kicked and waved her arms, apparently trying to gain some distance. A rattler was coiled and ready for her to land. Her tactics worked. She missed him, and he decided to go somewhere else. Then the rest of us made our trips.

TVCC sponsored a Vietnamese family of eleven. Dad had a job, the committee furnished the house and utilities, and donations provided food and clothing. The older daughter was engaged. The other kids were in school. Two were in our daughter Sharon’s class. Sharon was able to make a connection and helped translate between the students and the teacher. Later, Sharon would be called out of class to help translate in another class.

The daughter’s fiancé was a second lieutenant in the navy of South Vietnam. He escaped from the order that all officers of the South be executed when the North took control. He ended up in Canada. A lot of work took place to gain him a visa to the United States, where they could marry.

I found some Vietnamese marriage ceremonies in order to use language his parents would understand. I remember waiting with him to enter the sanctuary. He stood quietly, looking out the windows and weeping. I felt his sadness about this day happening halfway around the world, with little that was normal around him. They would not live the life they dreamed of and planned forever. But married, they would face the murky future together.

This part of Idaho had an average rainfall of less than ten inches a year. That included moisture from snow and ice. Caldwell was in a valley. The clouds would form and often go by, dumping their moisture in the mountain areas.

When it did snow, the Lutheran pastor and I shoveled the walks around the church, as we had foot traffic seven days a week. We balked at trying to shovel the parking lot. The cooperative committee finally arranged for the lot to be plowed.

The Lutheran pastor shoveled his walk and the north side