To Measure A Man: A Pastor’s vision to rebuild a church while impacting a community for Christ

By Eric M. Foltz

Brennan McKay is a 35-year-old, single, youth pastor unsure of his calling in the ministry. However, just a few miles away from his home church, in the quaint town of Homecoming, resides a small body of believers in need of a shepherd. Hope Church is on the verge of closing its doors due to the immoral actions of the former pastor, and only six members remain who are willing to do whatever it takes to bring their ministry back to life. Although not thoroughly convinced he has been called to pastor a church of his own, Brennan takes on this daunting task of trying to rebuild Hope Church to its former glory. As Pastor, Brennan soon realizes he is not alone in his efforts to bring Hope back to life, and things seem to be going well for the young pastor and his tiny congregation until he meets Tom, the town drunk. After making the most unorthodox of introductions, Tom quickly becomes a person in need that Brennan cannot stop thinking about. There is no shortage of obstacles and setbacks as Brennan and his congregation try to reach their community for Christ. Distinct personalities and situations provide Brennan with a host of reasons why God is not through with Hope Church, and Tom is just one remarkable character that brings Brennan another step closer to realizing his purpose in life. God is on the forefront in this story of a pastor willing to cast aside all apprehension so the lost can be reached and a church can thrive once again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891302365

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To Measure A Man

A Pastor's vision to rebuild a church while impacting a community for Christ

Eric M. Foltz

ISBN 979-8-89130-235-8 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-236-5 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Eric M. Foltz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ

Preface

Chapter 1

A New Beginning

Chapter 2

The Arrival

Chapter 3

Tom

Chapter 4

Ancient Chinese Secret

Chapter 5

Seed Time

Chapter 6

Mark 4:28

Chapter 7

Old Man Winter

Chapter 8

A Good Samaritan

Chapter 9

Metal Makeover

Chapter 10

The Re-Grand Opening

Chapter 11

Room 201

Chapter 12

2 Corinthians 5:17

Epilogue

About the Author

To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ

Preface

There are all sorts of reasons why people do the things they do. A person grows up in this world thinking, Clearly, there must be something I am good at . Even an ordinary young person, a teenager for example, will have an uncontrollable desire to succeed at something. Whether or not that teenager knows what he/she is good at, if anything at all, will eventually leave home, in most cases, then make a life for himself/herself in this great big world of uncertainty while basically trying to fulfill some type of purpose he/she feels inclined to fulfill. In the most rudimentary sense of meaning, purpose in life should lead to fulfilment in life. Therefore, people—most people anyhow—do all sorts of things to try to become fulfilled in life, but to stay fulfilled can be tricky. Fulfillment comes with a cost, and this is where things in life become uncertain or risky. Because what if one gets it wrong? What if for some individuals, purpose is not specific enough to ensure them that they are on their way to living fulfilling lives? Or perhaps, as in the case of Brennan McKay, suppose purpose meant calling, but a calling never once came down and rested on the tip of his nose, making it abundantly clear to him the type of vocation he should be succeeding at. To follow and with consideration, the slightest nudge of a calling in a person's life; faint and evident the calling may be but certainly not clear and distinct enough to leave out all doubt.

The following story puts into practice this concept of figuring things out as one goes along. This is not to say that Brennan McKay was not aware of a calling for the sake of direction to some measure, but for Brennan, the future remained quite uncertain and a little scary while fresh out of seminary and just finishing up his internship as a newly ordained minister of God's Word. A job was lined up for him at a church that needed a pastor, and Brennan accepted the position. Pastor Dan Trent's recommendation of course to this church in need of a shepherd helped open the door for Brennan to begin pastoring on his own, but Brennan was the one who had to walk through that door of uncertainty. Pastor Trent would try to encourage his apprentice as Brennan left to embark on his journey of trying to seek fulfillment in doing what he hoped was exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

This is Brennan's story, and Pastor Dan Trent would see Brennan off as he readied to leave the staff at Day Spring Community Church as their intermediary youth pastor. The arrangements had been made, and the folks at Hope Church would welcome Brennan in that afternoon as their new pastor.

Chapter 1

A New Beginning

You all ready? Pastor Trent asked the youthful-looking Pastor while hurriedly entering Brennan's office from the hallway of the west-wing to the building. Brennan stood in front of the large, oak desk that he would soon be leaving behind for the next youth pastor that Day Spring Community Church would have to hire. Brennan's office, small and compacted with much of his literature he had collected from seminary and personal study, was slightly cluttered that morning as he had completely emptied the short but wide bookcase positioned against the wall and behind the desk.

Brennan looked up at Pastor Trent while both of his hands were deep inside a tall box that sat on the desktop. His posture relaxed greatly as his shoulders rested a bit from the strain of placing the weighty hardbacks into the box. Brennan was youthful-looking, but he resembled an intellect. Some of the older ladies at his church had mistaken him for a schoolteacher, and not that Brennan was not capable of teaching, for he was very capable. Astute is the way others described Brennan when considering his approach to handling God's Word. Brennan was also slender and more on the tall side, but it must have been his neatly parted hairline and dark-rimmed glasses that he wore that put him in the schoolteacher category with some of those older ladies of the church. In the work environment, Brennan was always neatly dressed; although Pastor Trent did not require the men on his church staff to wear a tie unless it was during regular service hours, Brennan could almost always be found sporting a tie.

A less-than-confident smirk started to develop on one corner of Brennan's mouth. As ready as I'm going to be, he stated and then pulled his hands out from inside the tall box. With his right hand, he smoothed out the red tie he was wearing, and he was struggling to keep eye contact with Pastor Trent.

Pastor Trent stiffened up and quickly went into mentoring mode. Pastor Trent was twenty years Brennan's senior, and he had poured out as much wisdom on the thirty-five-year-old as he could over the last year without scaring the dickens out of him and causing him to leave the ministry before getting his feet wet as Day Spring's youth pastor. Pastor Trent put his hands on his sides, revealing the inner dress of his suit jacket. Pastor Trent was also sporting a red tie that morning. The senior pastor considered how much influence he had on Brennan over the past year, but mainly, he wanted to console Brennan with encouragement while seeing him off.

It's going to be fine. I mean, this is your calling to pastor your own church. Hope Church, a stable body of six congregants, and that's on a good day, Pastor Trent assured Brennan, his words lingering with the slightest bit of sarcasm, something the elder pastor was known for from time to time.

A light chuckle started to erupt within Brennan. As Pastor Trent stood there, waiting for his sarcasm to take its full effect, Brennan started to laugh, and a smile took over his face as he got the joke completely. Hope Church had been through quite the controversy recently; their former pastor had decided to have an affair with a married church member, the two of them keeping the whole adulterous affair a secret for over two years until a deacon had decided to stop by the church earlier than expected on one Thursday afternoon. This deacon caught Pastor and Mrs. Married Congregant in a warm but inappropriate embrace right there in the middle of the church sanctuary. The pulpit up on the stage and directly behind the two kissing, extramarital lovebirds, must have made for quite the backdrop for this deacon to witness as he slowly turned away from this scene in shock and headed for the door, then back to his car. Consequently, this same deacon quickly spilled the beans with the church board the next day, and over the course of about a month, nearly 90 percent of the church had disbanded, leaving only six of the most loyal members behind, desperately seeking a new pastor and a brand-new beginning, if that was to be at all possible.

Yeah, well, I'm leaving it all in God's hands, said Brennan. With the grin from earlier slowly turning into a more perplexed look, he gazed back down at the clutter of his desk and picked up one of the unpacked hardbacks, a Matthew Henry Commentary on the New Testament. I'll let you know if I need any help, he added and then looked at Pastor Trent and grinned confidently. God's in control, Brennan proclaimed as if he needed to convince himself more so than Pastor Trent.

God's in control, Pastor Trent reiterated and then stuck out his right hand.

For a few seconds, the two men firmly shook hands. It's been good having you, Brennan, Pastor Trent told his departing understudy, and the thought that his words sounded a bit generic troubled the elder pastor. Pastor Trent was not one to patronize nor did he believe Brennan would have respected the farewell statement if he had suspected that the comment was coming across as condescending. As far as Pastor Trent was concerned, it had been good having Brennan, and he was a good youth pastor. He would miss the close friendship he had developed with Brennan, and he would miss mentoring him, for Brennan was a good understudy.

Brennan left his post as youth pastor that day by walking out the double doors of the entrance to Day Spring Community Church. He carried the last full box of his office items down a set of cream-colored steps that led up to the short walkway in front of the entrance to the church. Brennan's car was parked out in front of the curb that was a good six feet away from the bottom of those cream-colored steps. The hatchback to his car remained open and ready to take on one last box before becoming completely full of packed goods, thus making the rear end to his car slightly weighted down but not so much as to cause a panic for Brennan. The trip to the town of Homecoming would be quick. The town with the church that Brennan had been hired to preach was only twenty-five miles northeast of the church he was now leaving and the community he had grown up in.

The air was a brisk forty degrees that day, and Brennan felt a cool breeze soak through the tan leather jacket he had on that morning as he made his way over to the back of his car. The box slid right into the empty spot he had left open from his last trip to the car, and now the hatchback was semi full with the back seat to the car holding much of his belongings from his apartment. All in all, Brennan was a light packer. He was currently single and unmarried up to this point in his life. The small loft he had rented above one of the local grocery stores in town had been more than sufficient to meet his needs while going to school and then interning. Seminary had proved to be quite economical as well for the thirty-something soon-to-be full-time preacher as he worked nights as a waiter and then went to his classes during the day. Like many of the other men he schooled with, Brennan was able to finish all his requirements for his degree within a three-year span, a pattern that most attributed to mimicking the life of the actual disciples of Jesus as they followed the Master around for three years.

Brennan looked over his shoulder as he was hunched down underneath the hatchback to his car. He noticed a couple of his teens standing over by the bottom of the cream-colored steps. A boy and a girl had seemingly appeared from nowhere. Neither one of them had jackets on, and the boy was wearing shorts; not surprising to Brennan that the two of them would be underdressed in the middle of March. He knew both the youth; they were his teens or at least had been for the past year. They were good kids. It was warming to Brennan's spirit that they had suddenly appeared there along with very evident and friendly dispositions.

Brennan backed out from underneath the rear of his car and slowly shut the hatchback, allowing the hatchback to make that clicking sound so that he was confident he had not overestimated his packing abilities, and the trunk door would be securely shut for his trip. The brief thought came to Brennan of the hatchback flinging open while he drove in the middle of rush hour down the interstate, and due to his negligence of overstuffing his car with more than it was meant to hold, a box topples over in the back and the would-be motorist behind him gets smacked in the windshield with a heavy and Concise Strong's Concordance, annulling any chance of this motorist coming to Christ, if in fact all Christians are as careless as to forget to shut the trunk to their cars properly.

Brennan pulled up on the front zipper to his leather coat. He wanted to leave as little of his neck exposed to the cold as possible. He was not a fan of the cold weather and never had been. He stuck his hands into the pockets to his coat and smiled at the teens. Well, I guess I'll be leaving now, he told the two teens.

The teenage girl, whose name was Melonie, did a quick wave at Brennan. Drive safe, Melonie replied. We'll be praying for you, she added. Her voice, calm and innocent, seemed to soothe some of Brennan's apprehension about leaving the teens. Such a nice girl. I may miss her most of all.

And I'll pray for you guys, said Brennan. A gurgle of faint laughter began to develop within Brennan as he reminisced spending time with all his teens. Was he making the right decision leaving? He could not help but feel giddy at that awkward moment of saying his goodbyes to the two teens that had taken the time to see him off, even if their being there the moment of his departure was by chance. He felt excited over his new adventure awaiting him in the town of Homecoming, but he had to question what would become of these two teens that he had grown to appreciate so much over the course of the last year.

He pondered more over his decision to leave his hometown. Okay, Brennan, enough is enough, say your goodbyes or you'll change your mind. I've made my commitment, and now I have to stick to that decision no matter how much it hurts.

You two stay out of trouble now, Brennan instructed the teens with the intent of making the moment a little less gloomy. He smiled warmly at the two teens and then pulled out his right hand from his coat pocket so he could wave to them one last time.

Okay, Melonie replied. You too, she said while giggling.

Yeah, you too, said the boy but in a much more direct tone compared to Melonie. Kyle was the boy's name, and Brennan had never known him to speak up very much, but even so, it was good to hear his goodbye.

Brennan backed away slowly from the departure scene that had been taking place in front of the church, and he walked around to the driver's side door to the hatchback. While putting his right hand on the handle of the car door, he looked up to view the church he would be leaving. The beautiful building in front of him was built of white stone all the way up to the slanted roof, recently refashioned with black metal sheets and making the contrast of white to dark really stand out. The pitch to the roof at forty-five degrees gave the building a more traditional look, and with the thick and rectangular-shaped steeple also made of white stone, the whole building appeared rather sturdy. A large red cross had been imbedded into the stone in the front center of the steeple; the cross was made of steel and had to be repainted every other year due to it rusting, but the red against the white stone had remained an emblem for the town folk who attended Day Spring Community Church. The representation of that red cross up there on the church's steeple was hard to overlook for anyone with the mental apparatus to understand the symbolism behind it being there in the first place. Brennan would miss pulling off the interstate onto Carrington Boulevard where as soon as he drove underneath the overpass right down the road from Day Spring Community Church, he would see that red cross up there, beckoning him to start his workday for the Lord. Once again, Brennan could not help but think about what he was leaving behind. He forced himself to look away from the red cross and his former church, then pulled open the car door to his hatchback and got into his car.

Brennan drove away from the two teens in front of the church building that morning while humming the gospel hymn Trusting Jesus. He had learned since becoming a Christian a few years back a variety of different strategies he could use to take his mind off the fear of the unknown, and one such strategy was to hum a gospel song he enjoyed. That morning, around eleven o'clock, Brennan headed down Carrington Boulevard and back toward the very interstate that would take him to his next destination and ultimately lead him to his new home, the community of Homecoming.

Chapter 2

The Arrival

The trip to Homecoming was rather uneventful for Brennan. He had timed it out so while driving there, he would miss any heavy midday traffic on Interstate 35. Brennan had been to the town of Homecoming before at different times, but those trips to this rural getaway of ten-thousand residents had come to be a tradition for Brennan and his father. Annually, Homecoming hosted the Pumpkin Growers Competition in the early fall, right around the time the weather started to break from warm to much cooler. In mid-October, Homecoming was known for hosting this event which put it on the map, so to speak, and drew visitors in from all over the central portion of the US. Brennan grew up on a farm, and his father, who was now retired, had entered this pumpkin competition several times before. As a child, Brennan and his father made many memories concocting quite the fertilizing machine which would feed what started out to be just a normal, large pumpkin, but after a few weeks of intravenous nursing, the chubby pumpkin with the most secret of ingredients, a behemoth of a pumpkin would take shape tipping the scales at several hundreds of pounds. Although his father never won the Pumpkin Growers Competition that Brennan could recall, one time long ago, when Brennan was ten years old, Dad did manage to place first for the colossal pumpkin that retained the most roundness. For Brennan, roundness for a pumpkin that was hundreds of pounds heavier than it is supposed to be was always an oddity because pumpkins of colossal size looked more like orange atomic bombs than they did pumpkins when taking shape into consideration.

Interstate 35 gave way to Hope Avenue, and for a stretch of about a mile, Brennan drove down Hope, passing a string of condominiums to his right and then the town's newly built high school to follow. Hope Avenue was the main road running north and south, right through Homecoming, and the hustle and bustle of the town would almost always commence somewhere on or right off Hope Avenue. Brennan found the infrastructure of Homecoming to be unusual because many of the businesses and buildings in town had been recently renovated within the last twenty years or so, but on the outskirts of town, it remained evident that Homecoming was a farming community, thus leaving most of the houses, offices, and shops surrounding Hope Avenue looking a little on the old-fashioned side.

As Brennan passed the community park on his left-hand side, he suddenly realized that it had turned out to be a decent morning weather wise. Although chilly, the sun had come out, and the luring rays of the sun was all that was needed for some of the town folk to begin making use of the park. A gentleman in tight-fitting jogging gear, wearing a stocking cap and gloves, was running down a walkway inside the park parallel to the direction Brennan was driving. A little deeper inside and more toward the center of the park, a couple with a baby stroller stood in front of one of the community park benches, as if getting ready to have a quick sit-down before finishing their late morning stroll through the park.

The last and most noticeable landmark Brennan would observe as he drove by the park was the gigantic, metallic handshake statue which resided on the south end of the park and leaving quite the impression on visitors to its symbolism. Each hand requiring its own platform was harnessed in place from underneath by separate but thick steel poles; each pole was glossy and of a smooth gray finish, much like the hands in which they were attached. Locked in a friendly but businesslike embrace, each hand protruded out from a collar of equal dexterity as the hands themselves, leaving out of the scene any indication of a wrist to either side of the statue. Clearly the creator of this monument did not want people taking their imaginations away from the symbolic expression to what those hands represented, and no other body part could interrupt this friendly gesture of building a community together in orderly yet corporate fashion. Like the town of Homecoming itself, the handshake statue seemed a bit out of place to Brennan to some respect. Where modern-day décor met with the long-lasting but dependable relics of a town, to Brennan, it always seemed that the older would win out most of the time because so many people feared the slightest of change. Old fashion was more appealing at the end of the day because it represented strength and fortitude.

After the community park, Brennan drove through the intersection of Hope and State, and then off to the right was the church he would be pastoring. Hope Church was in the quaint part of town where Hope Avenue narrowed a bit, and here was where many of the small shops and businesses were located. Brennan slowly crept passed a tall brick building to his right, home to Glenda's Beauty Salon, and then the church came into view. The church sat recessed away from the road a good one hundred and fifty feet, and aside from a run of small commercial properties across the street from the church, the property remained a quiet nook in the community. The first house to the left of the church building did not start for three-hundred feet, and even though much of the grounds on that side of the church was wooded, it was a part of the church's property.

Brennan pulled off the road and onto the paved drive that was narrow but well kept. The landscape in the front part of the church was open with the exception to one tall maple on the left side that was close enough to the road that it did not obstruct the Hope Church sign. The church's sign out front was in the middle of the front yard but slightly cockeyed and facing the north side of the road. Evidently, whoever placed the Hope Church sign in the front yard thought there were more people needing to see it when coming from the same direction Brennan had just come. The church sign was made from tan brick, but the front middle of the sign was glass, so various messages could be on display for passing motorists. The lettering inside the glass was white against a brown backdrop. With Brennan's arrival, the church sign read Welcome to Hope, Pastor Brennan McKay.

Two cars were already there in the parking lot to the right of the church building. The cars were parked perpendicular to the building as the parking spots faced the east side of the church, and the size of the parking lot matched the length of the church building exactly. The church was made of the same tan brick as the sign out front, and it was rectangular in shape with a pointy brick steeple for the front of the building. Hope church was not a big church to any degree; one hundred people could fit in the church pews rather cozily without breaking any of the local fire codes. But the tan brick gave the church a very unyielding form, for the building from Brennan's point of view was charming in all its grandeur; he loved the way the tan brick contrasted with the paved parking lot, and he could not wait to see the property all done up in the summer time. Dark colored mulch beds with pretty flowers all the way around the building would look so good for a church in need of a pastor and a new beginning.

After backing his car into a corner spot on the south end of the parking lot, furthest from the building, Brennan got out of his car and stretched his arms while taking in the scenery. He then paused for a moment while trying to convince himself once again he had made the right decision of coming to Homecoming to Pastor a church. Well, I guess this is it. I mise well get the hard part over with. After a few seconds more of encouraging self-talk, Brennan shut the driver's side door to the hatchback.

He headed into the front entrance to the building where the restrooms and offices were located. While inside the inner entrance doors, he could hear chatter going on in the direction of the sanctuary. He walked down a dimly lit hallway where he passed the restrooms, following the administrative office, and then the pastor's office. The door to his new office was halfway open. The light to the office was off, but in the middle of this room, he could see a large wooden desk with a glossy top. It was not a big office but suitable for counseling purposes and for personal study.

By stepping forward a bit and partly into the sanctuary, Brennan could see the three individuals who were having light hearted conversation in the front of the church up under the pulpit. A man of medium build with short dark hair, brown skin, wearing jeans and a hoodie, noticed Brennan standing there and nodded to the new pastor as if to signal to the other two they now had company. Another man of middle age, clean-shaven, heavily balding and wearing dress clothes and a tie abruptly stopped talking to the woman standing beside him and smiled at Brennan. The woman who had dark red, curly hair and light skin pivoted all the way around with the heel of her right foot pointed upward and her hands folded together in her lap. She was wearing a red blouse with the sleeves to the blouse neatly folded up to just below her forearms along with a gray formal skirt that went all the way down to her knees. She was youthful and professional-looking in her attire. She smiled at Brennan in gregarious fashion, instantly letting Brennan know this attractive young lady was probably the outgoing type.

Brennan smiled back at the three of them and nodded before making his way over to where they were standing underneath the pulpit. The first introduction came from the man in the jeans and hoodie. Hey, man. I mean, Pastor, I'm June Elsario, he told Brennan while holding out his hand. Brennan shook hands with June. It's good to finally meet you, June expressed and then placed his other hand up to Brennan's right shoulder. The handshake became lengthy, but when it became awkward, the two men quickly let go of the cordial embrace to continue with the introduction.

Yeah, I wasn't here when you came to preach a couple of months ago, so as a deacon—you know I'm the one deacon here? explained June rhetorically, then turned to acknowledge the man in dress clothes standing next to him.

And you know me, announced Jerry Henshaw while saying hi with a quick wave of his right hand. Jerry went on to explain to the group, We met when you came to preach, and that was quite a…quite a sermon, if I remember correctly. And Jerry followed up his words with an attaboy gesture.

Brennan wondered if Jerry even remembered what he preached on that Sunday morning two months prior. Brennan could recall without even trying what he preached on; the memory of that Sunday morning would be forever sketched inside his mind. There was no lack of nervousness the entire morning as he was introduced by Jerry himself to the congregation and then practically thrown up there in front of the pulpit to declare great Bible truths and insightful words of encouragement to a total of ten, maybe eleven people at the most. Preparedness, even thoroughness was naturally a part of Brennan's strong points, but relatability and confidence Brennan was sure to have not shown to his audience of less than a dozen that morning at Hope Church. And by preaching on Father Abraham and him expecting God to deliver on His promise of giving him an heir at a hundred years old simply reeked of having confidence in an invisible God. While preaching that Sunday morning, Brennan could not help but feel like a bit of an impostor. He certainly was not in confidence mode that morning but in an apprehensive mode while wondering if pastoring a church was really what he was called to do.

Yeah, I remember you, Jerry, how could I forget that Sunday? I was a bit nervous that morning, I have to admit, said Brennan. He then turned and faced the redhead with the bright demeanor. Her name was Glenda, and he remembered that she was also the church secretary.

Hi, and I'm Glenda Berk in case you forgot. I own the beauty salon next store. Well, me and my husband do. Umm, and of course, I'm the church secretary for now, that is until we get someone full-time over here, but I don't mind, really, I work right next door, so–

But I was glad to hear that we finally found someone to pastor the church here, and I hear good things about you Pastor Brennan, announced June abruptly.

Yeah, we're so blessed to have you, Glenda cheerfully declared.

And we expect great things from you, Pastor, said Jerry. We've been waiting, and Lord knows we need a shepherd for this church. It's really been through the wringer lately with losing our last pastor, and well, Jerry began to explain but cleared his throat before he could continue. Well, we don't need to rehash any of those memories, do we?

Nah, we don't need to go into detail about that situation, Brennan quickly responded. He had no desire to start a negative conversation about the former pastor, even if the talk was all about someone else's inappropriate and disrespectful behavior. At this point in his career, Brennan felt in no position to compare himself to any pastor. In his mind, he did not have enough experience to start pointing fingers. Sure, he knew committing adultery with anyone was wrong and sinful, but handling temptation in every type of situation as Pastor was something he was going to have to figure out as he went along. The fact that he was still single at thirty-five, never married, or had ever come close to becoming engaged left Brennan with an unsavory disposition when it came to the whole topic of moral conduct in the throes of lustful feelings toward another. Brennan suddenly felt relieved that Glenda was married; she was cheery and attractive, but the last thing