From your "Yes, I Wash the Dishes" Pastor...

    The Work of Joy

The Easter worship service at First Baptist, Rochester, was a fantastic experience! We had to bring in extra chairs. We had magnificent music. The energy of community was palpable. It was, in every sense of the word, a day of joy!

We quickly return to routine. Too quickly, I fear. Easter fades. So does the joy. How do we keep that sense of satisfaction, that sense of being a part of something wonderful, something so compelling that it won't let us go?

In the most recent issue of Baptists Today, Brett Younger writes an article that I could identify with immediately. I am the dish washer of my family. I'm good at it. My family is delighted that I'm good at it (and that they don't have to wash the dishes!). With my questions posed above, I want to give you Brett's article. Perhaps it will help us to understand Easter as a more lasting experience of joy and awakening and enriched community.

“Scrubbing the Tub,” by Brett Younger Baptists Today - April, 2008

I like washing dishes. I like clearing, sudsing, rinsing and the threat of a spoon sneaking into the disposal. I like stubborn cheese grates. I like having enough engineering skills to fit the last pan into the dishwasher. Lots of people love to cook, but a few of us love to wash dishes. I like doing laundry. I like dividing permanent press from delicate. I like running "air fluff" just for fun. I like the challenge of folding fitted sheets. I like to believe that pairing socks is an act of reconciliation and washing clothes is an investment in the future. I've never seen my father rinse a coffee cup or hang a dress shirt. He's a good person, but I doubt he knows the location of the dishwasher tabs or the lint filter. Because I do dishes and wash clothes, I think of myself as a good husband. I enjoy patting myself on the back for my forays into cleaning. But every once in a while my beloved points out that my progress as a housekeeper hasn't been as impressive as I like to think. I don't iron, mop or dust. I don't scrub the tub, clean the toilet or wash windows. I like to think this is a matter of focusing on my strengths - dishes and clothes - but it's really about my unwillingness to do something harder. Most church people like going to worship. We like signing our name on the friendship register. We like standing when there's an asterisk and reading the bold print. We like singing hymns and knowing to look carefully at the words of the Doxology, because they might change. We like recognizing the organ dismissal. Most church people are genuinely nice. We like being kind to the people who are kind to us. We like being friendly to our friends and to those who look like they might become friends. We like being good neighbors and careful drivers. We like being nice people. We know people who don't go to church and who aren't nice. (Some of them are our relatives.) They don't know how to act in church and drive too fast. Because we are nicer than most people, we are tempted to pat ourselves on the back for being good churchgoers. But every once in a while God reminds us there is more. We can learn how better to welcome the stranger, invite a friend to be part of the church, ask a homeless woman to tell her story, share a hurting family's sorrow, read the Bible with an openness to being wrong, and pray asking God to change us into more of who we should be. Churches get use to the routine - washing the dishes and doing the laundry of religious expectations. It's easier to have church than it is to be church. We are tempted to pat ourselves on the back for the depth of our understanding and the generosity of our ministries, but God is always calling us to do more. We need to consider the hard things God may be calling us to do. I'm going to think about it while I'm scrubbing the tub.

Amen, from

Pastor Ken