Part of the Same Story

 

When I was at Massey’s yesterday, I spent some time digging through the disorganized box of old files I have. Most of it is useless: lists of committees, trustee notes from long ago, a folder filled with scraps of treasurer receipts from the 1950s, ancient charge profiles stating a woman pastor would be okay but not a black one. In a folder labeled “history,” I found the notes from a church meeting followed by a special charge conference in 2001 (referenced in my previous post).

The language used to describe the relationship between the full-time Parkwood UMC and the quarter-time Massey’s Chapel was “satellite.” In 1999, Parkwood was in desperate financial straits, so Massey’s Chapel, who needed a pastor, became a “satellite” of the larger church, and paid that church $6,000 a year for their pastor to preach on Sundays and do a few other pastoral duties. Massey’s gave up their 11 a.m. worship time and began to worship at 9 a.m. to accommodate the new arrangement.

The partnership held for two years. Parkwood’s pastor told Massey’s that most people at Parkwood loved the arrangement, loved Massey’s Chapel and “felt” (sorry) for them.  I doubt the feelings were mutual. The pastor told Massey’s the only reason their church had survived was because one of their previous pastors had stayed for nine years, providing stability.

But look at you now, he told them. Massey’s family members had recently sold their property to Southpoint developers (leaving a postage-size property for the church), and all moved away – to Timberlake, to Rougemont, to Holly Springs. You can’t have a viable church with leaders living so far away, he said.

Parkwood’s pastor had prepared a multi-page booklet for the meeting, laying out the only options he saw for Massey’s Chapel: close; withdraw from the UMC and purchase the property from the Conference for half a million dollars (this option must have been discussed among the membership); accept a part-time pastor if one could be found (which was unlikely, he said); or work toward merging with Parkwood, to become one church, selling the Massey’s property to the greedy developers building Southpoint Mall. The greedy developers would take the property eventually anyway, he told them. They had money and lawyers, and Massey’s did not. The Durham County historical designation would not mean squat. No option existed of becoming a multi-point charge, not anymore. All the part-time churches within a 10-mile radius had closed.

It was obvious Parkwood’s pastor wanted a church merger. After having served small, fierce, rural churches, this option seemed laughable to me.  

It made me a little sick to my stomach to think this was exactly the kind of document I would have produced for Aldersgate in Chapel Hill had I thought of it. When I served Aldersgate, I emphasized that Light Rail was coming right through the church front yard. There was no stopping it! The construction alone would mean the end of the church, so we had better sell now while the property still had value.

Light Rail never came, although the proponents certainly had seemed hell-bent on it. The greedy developers never took Massey’s Chapel; they just built all around it. Massey’s received a retired part-time pastor who worked out fine. Later, the church received a part-time local pastor who presided over a tripling of attendance. Aldersgate never got that chance.

I think now: If members sold their property to Southpoint developers, there should have been money to provide other options for Massey's Chapel. Maybe not. 

The other aspect of the notes that made me queasy was sensing the church’s hostile, sullen attitude leaking out, especially in the special charge conference notes. Almost the only people who attended were members of the ruling family, most of whom now dwell in the cemetery. Reading the notes, I was reminded of the dour, surly attitude of the declining churches I have served.

God, I am glad to be away from them. Massey’s Chapel received so many new members in the past decade it ceased to be a grim, angry church long before I arrived. Maybe it never really was.

And the Church Marches On

 

Massey's front door

I love to dig into local church histories.

Let’s back up to the year 2001 at Massey’s Chapel. I hadn’t even gone to divinity school yet. The church was small, and the Massey descendants were still the controlling family. Massey’s Chapel shared a pastor with Parkwood UMC, although the churches were not formally yoked on a charge together. He left one of his sermons behind, which I found when we cleaned out the fellowship hall in preparation for a renovation in 2021.

The sermon was intended to be prophetic, meaning the pastor was telling Massey’s Chapel in no uncertain terms what was going to happen to the church. It was a good sermon, and I found myself moved while reading it although nothing about it ultimately came to pass.

The printed sermon was saved because it became part of a church meeting soon afterwards. I found the notes from that meeting, too.

In the sermon, the pastor told the congregation: You can’t go on like this! You’re too small and pay too little to have your own pastor. When I depart from this church (soon!), with the way things currently exist, you have no future. There is not another part-time church close enough to form a two-point charge with Massey’s (The church had a history of being part of a multi-point charge). 

Parkwood was full time, and I guess the pastor served both churches out of the goodness of his heart? Hmmm. He served Massey’s and Parkwood together for at least two years. He followed a one-and-done pastor, who himself followed a half-year interim pastor, who followed a pastor who was appointed to Massey’s for nine years. They were all ordained elders except possibly the interim. The pastor in 2001 might have been appointed to Massey’s to give them some stability. But I was unclear – who disliked the Parkwood-Massey’s arrangement? The pastor? The churches? Everyone?

It was a disturbing sermon. I’m not sure what he was advocating for them to do. Pay more? Beg Parkwood to continue sharing a pastor? Accept a licensed local pastor? Possibly he wasn’t advocating anything, just telling them how he viewed the situation.

He reminded them that back in the early 1930s, Massey’s Chapel had talked with great excitement about expanding the little sanctuary. Visitors were coming, people were joining, and things were crowded. For an unknown reason, the church never followed through, and attendance and membership collapsed. The sanctuary that exists today (2001 and 2023) was/is essentially what existed in 1930. The implication was that Massey’s was stuck in the past.

At a special charge conference several weeks after the sermon, apparently the D.S. told Massey’s Chapel she could give them a retired elder to serve part time, which they instantly accepted – at very low pay. Embarrassing low pay, the current pastor chided them. Can’t you come up with $175 to make it an even amount? No. But the retired elder took it and stayed eight years.

He was Massey’s pastor when I came to know him through the pastors’ breakfast when I was a new pastor. He keeps in touch, wants to receive the newsletter, and clearly still loves Massey’s Chapel although almost everyone he knew is gone.

By God’s grace, Massey’s Chapel continued through 2001, through another rapid turnover of pastors (2009-2012), through a pandemic, and into 2023 and beyond.

What Sells in the Hospital Gift Shop?

 

What are the best sellers at the Duke Regional Hospital’s gift shop? Baby gifts? Flowers? Toiletry kits? No…. The best sellers are candy and chips.  

I find this surprising in a facility dedicated to health and healing. Plenty of patients probably are hospitalized with heart disease and diabetes and who knows what else for over-indulging for years in high-carbohydrate junk food.

The main customers in the gift shop are hospital staff, but there is a steady trickle of patients and family of patients who also go shopping there. 

The above photo is the wall of best-sellers, although I couldn’t get the candy-bar part of the wall nor the soft drinks in the picture. The absolute best-sellers are the so-called “penny candy” in plastic bowls across the top of the display.

Penny candy doesn’t cost a penny anymore. It ranges in price from 5 cents to 20 cents per piece, and I often sympathize with customers who want to complain about it. They bring fistfuls of penny candy to the counter and then go back for more. Friday, one woman brought over the entire display bowl full of some kind of peppermint candy and dumped it on the counter – she wanted all of it. I counted 61 pieces at 10 cents each. She also purchased Junior Mints and York Peppermint Patties, so she must be a peppermint lover. 

One of the best-selling penny candy on Fridays is Reese’s small peanut butter cups. Another is Long Boys coconut juniors. I never had even seen a Long Boys, but I feel sure I would like them. Chocolate Tootsie Rolls (the sticky rolls, not the Tootsie Pop suckers which we also sell) are popular. At the risk of sounding like my mother, I want to tell people – “No, that will stick in your teeth and give you cavities!” In fact, sometimes I want to yell, “Don’t buy this stuff; it’s bad for you!” But I just smile, count the candy, and ring up the purchase.

(I never liked Tootsie Rolls in Halloween candy; I always threw them out. What the gift shop sells is twice as long as what used to get tossed into my Halloween bag.)

We sell a lot of chips, too, at $1.50 a paltry bag, and sometimes the $3.50 little cup of dip (salsa or cheese) to go with the chips. If you look closely at the photo, on the far right, you also will see some sort of oval heat-up meal costing $3.50 each, which people actually purchase as a meal. How do I know this? One woman told me she brings them home to her husband for his dinner, and he loves them. Put some crackers with it, and it makes a fine meal, she said. That just made me sad.

We sell quite a bit of individual pain killers like Advil that hang with the candy. 

Customers also purchase drinks to go with their junk food – often Coke products, but also water and vitamin water. The cost of drinks in the gift shop (around $1.50 depending on what you buy) is apparently less than in the hospital cafeteria.

In the photo, there are some things I have never sold, like beef jerky, but then I only volunteer on Fridays. It’s possible that by Friday, people are tired and just want to eat candy and chips.