Showing posts with label East 91st Street Christian Church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label East 91st Street Christian Church. Show all posts
Sunday, October 5, 2025

986 - Letters to George

Friends: A book has been published containing several of Abba Philemon’s letters to our great spiritual friend George Bebawi. The story and a link to the book is below. Blessings, Bob

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Spirituality Column #986

October 7, 2025

Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

Letters to George

By Bob Walters

“He is very dear to me … both as a man and as a brother in the Lord.” – Philemon 16.

From the fall of 2004 through 2017, Dr. George Bebawi (1938-2021) taught a series of Bible and theological classes in the fall and spring at East 91st Street Christian Church here in Indianapolis.

All who spent any time in the class remember George’s copious pre-class notes filled with his own observations, writings of the ancient Christians, various Greek, Latin, Hebrew, and Aramaic Bible translations with contexts and evaluations of modern Christianity.  This was no light Bible study; it was a deep dive into the spirit of the Lord.

And a special treat most weeks would be a brief piece of wisdom tucked in his class handout, a letter excerpt from George’s spiritual mentor, a monk he once knew named Philemon at the Monastery of St. Macarius in the desert north of Cairo, Egypt.

George grew up Jewish in a Muslim neighborhood in Cairo, learning the Koran with his young neighbors and then preparing for rabbinical school as a teenager. Raised by his Jewish maternal grandmother, George’s father, a Christian physician, was the one who said George ought to learn about the people around him, mostly Muslims.

This obviously gave George a 360-degree perspective of the Abrahamic religions, but the big surprise came at age 18 when both he and his grandmother converted to Christianity. George soon went to seminary, and became a priest in the Coptic (Egyptian Orthodox) Church founded by St. Mark in the first century.

It was early in his priesthood that George investigated becoming a monk and on a visit to Macarius monastery met Abba Philemon, an older, quirky brother of extreme biblical learning and spiritual depth whose birthplace and birthdate were unknown.

In his mid-20s, George was off to Cambridge University, England, for a masters in Christian Theology and a doctorate in Orthodox Studies. George became a renowned Eastern church scholar and expert on the Patristic period of the church fathers in the earliest Christian centuries.  Google “George Bebawi” (or GeorgeBebawi.com) and many resources pop up including his organizations and full Wikipedia biography.

Until Philemon’s passing in 1977, George regularly corresponded with him on deep personal and spiritual matters. This included frequent letters from Philemon in reply to George’s questions or difficulties. They also had numerous conversations at the monastery which George recorded from memory. Philemon claimed to be uneducated and most brothers thought him illiterate, but his letters belie a powerful intellect.

George often regaled our E91 class with stories about Philemon, many of them situated between hilarious, charming, and Oh My God revealing anecdotes. I still have 14 years of George’s class handouts plus my own notes, all peppered with Philemon’s erudite nuggets of faith, truth, Godly love, scriptural revelation, and the truth of Jesus.

The class ended in December 2017, and George died February 4, 2021.  Three years later, a surprise showed up, a book of Abba Philemon’s Letters to George (LINK).

Last fall a friend of George’s wife May – my classmate Joyce Van Atta – handed me a small book of Philemon’s letters to George. I couldn’t find any information about it then, but now it is available on Amazon.

George was a good man and a dear brother in the Lord, and I know many of his students and friends will be happy to hear that Philemon’s words live on.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) coordinated George’s classes at E91, but has no idea who actually published the Philemon book.

Sunday, June 1, 2025

968 - Hard to Say Goodbye

Friends: Our memories keep absent friends close to us; the truth keeps Jesus close to humanity. See the column below. Blessings! Bob

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Spirituality Column #968

June 3, 2025

Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

Hard to Say Goodbye

By Pam Walters

“Remain in me, and I will remain in you.” Jesus to the Disciples, John 15:4

Hey friends, I’m sitting in the bleachers again this week basking in the reflected glow of my wife Pam’s deep relationships with her Mission Christian Academy students and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Pam was called upon this week to present the communion homily in the traditional service at our East 91st Street Christian Church. It is a brief message (below) not only of loving God and loving others, but also of pursuing our own lives in Christ. 

A unique aspect of a small high school like MCA is that even though the students change classes through seven daily periods, they are largely with the same students all day and in various classes with the same specialized teachers – and the other students – for four years. We all know each other well.

Pam and I will attend approximately 24 MCA graduation receptions (currently 18 down, six to go). What I find remarkable is the robust enthusiasm among the grads, younger students, staff, and parents to celebrate and anticipate their futures while holding fast to the love and community we share with each other in Christ.

It is a lesson to remember with our church families as well. Here is Pam’s homily.

“Another school year has ended, and a week ago Friday night MCA graduated 34 seniors.  The year they began as freshmen was my first year at MCA, so I had the privilege of being their English teacher for all four years of their high school careers.

“These kids are an interesting mix of abilities, talents, quirks, and interests.  They can be annoying, stubborn, and lazy, but mostly a joy to be around.  Because they spend so much time together and know each other so well, they are more like brothers and sisters.  They are an amazing group of young people who love the Lord and each other.  As you might imagine, it is very difficult to see them go, but it is exciting to think of their futures and how the Lord will use them.  The memories I have will keep them close until we meet again.

“During His three years of ministry and teaching, Jesus spent a great deal of time with a rag-tag group of men. They came from different walks of life with their own mix of abilities and quirks.  They were also annoying when they didn’t listen and failed to understand what Jesus was trying to teach them.  He shared truth; He challenged their old ways of thinking.

“Jesus rebuked them when they were wrong, but the whole time, He loved them and worked to make them ready for a time when He would no longer be with them and they would carry out the purpose for which He had been preparing them.

“Jesus knew their parting would be difficult, so He told them to remember Him whenever they shared a cup and bread.  That sweet communion celebrated among believers and friends restored their joy as they felt His presence with them.

“Each time we come together as believers and participate in communion, we celebrate the bond, the friendship, the love we have for each other and for the Lord.  The bread and the cup restore and refresh, and we look forward to the day when we will partake with Him in person.  This weekly remembrance brings us close to Him and we recall what He did for us on the cross … with love, mercy, obedience, and grace.”

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com), Bob, that is, teaches history and civics at MCA, a private school in Fishers, Ind., that opened in the fall of 2021 with 38 students.  MCA’s fall term of 2025 currently shows a K-12 enrollment beyond 500. Praise God. As for the column, Bob will be back on his own next week.


Monday, December 16, 2024

944 - Christmas Present from the Past

Friends: Meeting my mom’s long-ago friend “Jeannie” brightened a bleak Christmas in 2002. Here’s the second part of the two-part story we began last week. Blessings! Bob

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Spirituality Column #944

December 17, 2024

Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

Christmas Present from the Past

By Bob Walters

“Shout for joy to the Lord … his faithfulness continues through all generations,” Psalms 100, Mary Jean Alig’s favorite psalm, read at her funeral by her daughter Ginny Cain.

The story began back in the 1940s, I think, when teenager Mary Jean Milner ventured from her family’s summer enclave in Harbor Springs, Michigan, 30 miles north to visit friends in Mackinaw City.

For geographical orientation, look at the back of your left hand – you’ll note it looks like the state of Michigan.  Detroit is down at the base of your thumb; Harbor Springs is at the top of your ring finger.  Mackinaw City is at the top tip in the middle. My parents are both buried there. And, by the way, the city is on the “mainland,” by the Mackinac Bridge, not on Mackinac Island, eight miles or so out into Lake Huron.

My dad’s family, the Walters, had lived or summered in Mackinaw since 1905. Mom’s family, the McKinney’s from Saginaw, Mich. (near the crux of your thumb and forefinger), built a Mackinaw summer home in the 1920s or 30s.  We never asked for specifics.  Dad grew up in Marion, Indiana, and due to a long list of family happenstance, went to Mackinaw City High School during World War II, class of 1945.

The Milners, Mary Jean’s family, were from Indianapolis where her dad, the Rev. Dr. Jean Milner, was senior pastor at Second Presbyterian Church from 1921-1960, first on 38th Street at Meridian, then north to 7700 North Meridian where it is still located today.

In the 1920s, Indiana’s allergy season led Rev. Milner to find summer solace in Northern Michigan, where he built a log cabin west of Harbor Springs on Lake Michigan, and a shed on the shore that was his “writing room” where he would construct sermons and teaching plans for the coming year.

My wife Pam and I learned this while visiting Mary Jean and husband Dr. Vincent Alig in 2014, standing on the beachfront below their Harbor Springs home. Vince died the following summer in 2015; we kept in regular touch with Mary Jean until she passed last Friday, Dec. 6, at age 95.

Going back to last week’s column (#943 link) about meeting Vince and Mary Jean in 2002 at the Mustard Seed Bible study Christmas breakfast at Indy’s East 91st Street Christian Church, that “random” meeting, I believed immediately, was no random thing.  The meeting was a God thing, as I and my family grappled with my mother’s severe health decline. Discovering that day that Mary Jean was “Jeannie” my parents, and especially my mom, had spoken of years before, built a welcome bridge to my mom’s youth.

Jeannie, who went to Tudor Hall, a high school in Indy, had a friend named Fred “Fritz” Leete at Indy’s Park School (now Park-Tudor School), whose family had a multi-home estate (“The Leete Fleet”) down Wawatam Beach from the McKinney place. Mom, dad, and Fritz were friends, and Jeannie stayed with Mom in Mackinaw. Vince, whose family, also from Indy, had a summer home on Walloon Lake (also tip of the ring finger) occasionally visited Mackinaw as well.  Everybody knew everybody along the beach

I learned a lot about my now bed-bound mom I had not known.  Mom, Jeannie said, was the “beach gang” leader-of-the-pack. Her family had a nice Chris-Craft motorboat and Mom led various forays over to Mackinac Island or bombing around the Straits. Jeannie told me she remembers Mom barefoot water skiing – I had no idea – and that Mom would brag about speeding back and forth to Saginaw in her dad’s car (Grandpa Doc was a Saginaw ophthalmologist). I remember a pair of wooden “Cypress Garden” water skis – from Florida – in our Mackinaw cottage garage, supposedly the first skis on the Straits.

The most legendary “Jeannie” story was when the gang climbed one of the 100-foot steel fire towers dotted around heavily forested northern Michigan.  Jeannie got about half way up, just above the tree line, said “that’s enough,” and the guys in the group helped her back down. The towers were still there in the 1970s, 30 years ricketier, and I can vouch that climbing them was a scary if thrilling enterprise.

As Mom lay in an Alpena, Mich., nursing home in late 2002, her broken hip well-healing but cranial vascular leakage causing progressive dementia, Mom immediately smiled when I told her about meeting Mary Jean.  “Oh, that was Jeannie,” Mom said, with a smile that grew larger when I showed her the color photo Mary Jean gave me of the “Sag-a-Mac,” the 1940s McKinney Chris-Craft of Mom’s youth.

This was all such a Christmas blessing.  Mom would pass in March 2003, but my friendship with Vince and Mary Jean grew with visits and Bible studies together. She added a dimension to knowing my own mother I and my siblings had never known. She and Vince encouraged my weekly writings, and I’ll always remember this about Mary Jean: when she prayed, you knew Jesus was in the room. Well done.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) compliments Mary Jean’s wonderful family.  Here is her Obituary.

 


Monday, June 28, 2021

763 - Our Pastor's Funeral

Spirituality Column #763

June 29, 2021

Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

Our Pastor’s Funeral

By Bob Walters

“My wife Pam and I met at our pastor’s funeral.”

I just love the start of that story, and love even more that it’s our story to tell. 

It was November 2007 – the 15th, a Thursday, to be exact – on a day saddened by loss but buoyed with the hope and love of Jesus that beloved pastor Russ Blowers had instilled in countless Christians during 56 years of ministry at East 91st Street Christian Church in Indianapolis.  His funeral mostly filled the 2,200-seat worship hall.

Russ, 83 and retired, had died late Saturday evening the 10th, missing by a mere 10 minutes the symmetry of this proud World War II veteran’s death being marked on a November 11 Veteran’s Day.  His friend and fellow pastor John Samples, who along with Russ’s son’s Phil and Paul had prayed and watched as Russ breathed his last, woke me with a phone call and the not-unexpected news around 1:30 a.m.

A few hours later I arrived for Sunday church early as those of us who knew shared the news of Russ’s death with others, and word spread quickly.  Russ and I had grown close during my first six years as a Christian, which also happened to be his last six years as a minister.  I say “last six years”; I don’t know exactly what a guy like Russ is promoted to upon arrival at the pearly gates, but I doubt “minister” still covers it.

Anyway, in the halls at church later that Sunday morning my cell phone rang and Phil Blowers was calling to ask if I would serve his dad as a pall bearer.  I said yes as the tears I’d held back burst forth, right there in the hallway next to the reception desk.     

E91, as we call it, is a big church. At that time, Sunday mornings saw 4,000 or more worshippers in five services at two different ends of the building.  In the couple of years preceding his death, Russ and I had taken to sitting together in the 9:15 a.m. traditional service in the main sanctuary where the choir and orchestra – yes, a full, wonderful orchestra of extraordinarily talented church members – regularly performed.

I’ve often said going to church at E91 was like going to the Indy 500 … you never see or meet all the people who are there.  A cordial Sunday morning E91 greeting, “Hi, are you new here?” was often met with the response, “No, ‘been here for 30 years.”

One fellow I knew, former E91 member Dale Collie, called early Monday morning – from North Carolina where he now lived – urging me to start an online “Tribute Site” where parishioners and friends could post memories of Russ.  I was a long-time public relations guy and communicating was my business so I picked up the challenge.  We had the site up and running later that day. (see Russ Stories – link is still live.)

The daunting part of the challenge was reaching everyone who knew Russ or might want to post on the site.  Russ, for heaven’s sake, had been the chairman of the Billy Graham crusades in Indianapolis and Channel 8’s “TV Preacher” in the 1960s.  His ministry’s reach far exceeded E91, but my first goal was to gather stories from those who knew him best – and knew each other best – there in our home congregation.

It was obvious from sitting with Russ in Sunday services that the huge music ministry was a particular delight to him, and that he was adored by its many members.  But how to notify them?  An hour or so before the funeral, I recognized the orchestra’s tympanist standing in the hallway and asked her for help.  She said her name was Pam.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) married Pam June 22, 2009.  More next week.

Monday, November 26, 2018

628 - 'Are You a Minister?'

Spirituality Column #628
November 27, 2018
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

‘Are You a Minister?’
By Bob Walters

“Are you a minister?”

“No, I’m not,” I replied, having only recently been baptized a few months earlier.   So I was surprised when the very quiet, “older” gentleman I didn’t know with the foreign accent posed that question to me back in May of 2002.  The occasion was a small cookout in Indianapolis mostly among some of my old high school friends from Kokomo.

That was how and when I met George Bebawi, who has been the most profound theological, biblical, and intellectual influence in my Christian life.  He turns 80-years-old today, Tuesday, Nov. 27, and there are hundreds of us in central Indiana and thousands more all over the world who would like to stop and take a moment to tell George “Happy birthday” while adding our sincere thanks for his unwavering, deeply loving, and freedom-cherishing Christian ministry and academic career.  He is one of a kind.

Born in 1938 to a Jewish mother and Christian father, a physician, George was reared in a Muslim neighborhood in Cairo, Egypt.  George’s Jewish grandmother who wound up raising him escaped the Nazis in 1930s Hungary by going to Egypt.  He was raised as a Jew but was also encouraged by his father to “get along” with the other neighborhood boys by studying the Qur’an. George knows Judaism and Islam very well.

To make a very long story very short, George and his grandmother converted to Christianity together when George was 18.  He then studied at Coptic Orthodox Theological College in Cairo becoming a Coptic priest, earned a PhD at Cambridge in Sacramental Theology (1970), returned to Cairo to teach and minister, nearly became a Coptic monk but instead rose through the Coptic clerical and administrative ranks in Cairo, served as a Coptic counsel to several international theological committees including at the Vatican, was a missionary in Sub-Saharan Africa, taught at several Middle Eastern and European universities, and studied psychotherapy with Frank Lake.

Though he eventually left the Coptic priesthood, George is a renowned expert in Church History, Patristics (the church fathers), Systematic Theology, Judaism, Islam, and Egyptian Christianity.  George’s CV lists proficiency in 10 languages (English, Arabic, Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, Syriac, Coptic, Persian, French, Latin), not including German into which he translated the Coptic Bible as a PhD candidate at Cambridge.

George, who married May Rifka at Northview Church in Carmel, Ind., in 2004, first met her in Beirut, Lebanon, in the mid-1970s; May managed a bookstore George frequented while teaching there.  George also served as a medic with the Red Cross during that era’s Lebanese civil war which forced May’s family to flee to the United States.  Once here, May became a lead project manager with EDS (Ross Perot’s computer systems company) and was posted in Indianapolis in the early 1980s.  She returned to the area permanently in 1998, settling in Carmel.

I have to explain May, because without her none of us around here would know George.  I met her in 1983 at dinner a couple of times with some of those same high school friends who again gathered at that spring cookout in 2002.  May, in the 1980s, had connected with them at Carmel’s College Park Church, and though I was still a couple decades away from the Christian scene myself, May exudes the type of kindness that is unforgettable … and I never forgot her.  She moved away and I didn’t see her again until spring 2002 at a funeral at East 91st St. Christian Church for the husband of our high school friend Joyce.  A month after the funeral our gang met for the cookout at Joyce’s home as an encouragement for her but also because May had a friend visiting from England – George – but I didn’t know who he was.

So … there we are at the 2002 cookout, the gals gabbing in the kitchen and the guys gabbing on the patio … with this older, Middle Eastern fellow who seemed entirely pleasant, politely listening to us “experts” opine on what Islam might do to America and the world.  This was, you’ll recall, about nine months after 9/11.  I had read Princeton professor Bernard Lewis’s authoritative book “What Went Wrong” about Islam, and also had read online what I didn’t realize was a bunch of nonsense and misinformation about Islam.  All of us guys – long-time friends, college grads, Christians, up on the news – were all in the same boat regarding Islam: newly but barely informed about a complex topic and briskly discussing something about which we had little understanding.

And here’s George – a Cambridge University PhD and lecturer in divinity and a world-renowned scholar on Islam (who actually knows Bernard Lewis) – politely, silently, looking at us.  It was when I tossed into the conversation something I’d read – online – about “Allah” being a “Moon God” that “had been randomly picked off an image on the Kaaba at Mecca because Mohammad needed a God for his new religion”  At that, George leaned forward. The mere force of his authoritative posture shut all of us up and he said, with stern surety, “No! That is Christian propaganda.”  And I gulped.

At that moment, I was not entirely sure who I had offended.  But George was gracious and neither angry nor arrogantly moved to present a showy academic criticism of my error.  He simply knew what Muslims know: that within Islam, Allah is neither an afterthought nor a figment of Muhammad’s imagination.  We talked a while longer – I was fascinated – and George asked, “Are you a minister?”  He sounded sincere; not as though he hoped I was not.  I said “No,” but took it as an encouraging compliment.

George and I became fast friends.  He returned to Cambridge, I emailed him, and he sent back a nice note along with a master’s thesis he had written long ago titled “St. Paul and Original Sin.”  It was deep stuff I barely understood but desperately wanted to.  We stayed in touch from then on, which opened up a new world of study for me.  When he visited again in September we got together with Russ Blowers and discovered George was familiar with Russ’s son Paul’s work in Patristic theology.  At Christmas we all were able to get together – Russ, Paul, George, May, and me.  In 2004 George retired, married May, and moved to Carmel.  Russ and I convinced E91 to hire George as a Wednesday night Bible Study instructor, a class he taught through 2017.  I helped coordinate with the church and formatted George’s class handouts each week.  He has written dozens of books – most in Arabic – but my 14 years of class handouts, lectures, and notes has been a theology education for the ages.  I know Jesus and do not doubt.

The past year George has battled numerous health problems but every time I’ve seen him – and according to May just a couple days ago – his mind is sharp as ever.  I’d love to see him continue teaching, but I’ve got column material for the rest of my life.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) is 64 years old; same age George was when they met.  May’s hospitality at their home in Carmel, by the way, is as legendary as is George’s generosity with his considerable knowledge and ministerial acumen.
Monday, November 19, 2018

627 - What Was I Thinking...


Spirituality Column #627
November 20, 2018
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

What Was I Thinking …
By Bob Walters

“I have decided … to follow Jesus. No turning back, no turning back…” Gospel hymn

November is a major month in my personal faith history, with no date I can think of more “major” than Sunday, Nov. 18, 2001: the day – evening, really – I was baptized.

Christian doctrines being diverse as they are, “Baptism” means different things to different churches and to different people.  Sprinkled as babies or dunked (or sprinkled) as adults, the meaning of Christian baptism is universally understood to be a declaration and signal of new life, ownership, protection, and salvation in Jesus Christ – none of which means anything to the secular and non-Christian world.

And that was pretty much my world until September of 2001 at age 47 when I first showed up in church as an adult.  Growing up in the 1950s and 60s in America, I like most people went to church because it was just a thing you did.  Back then it was weird if you didn’t go to church.  Today, culture insists it’s weird if you go.  But I’ll take God’s truth over an errant view of weirdness any day, and I’ll take eternal faith in Jesus Christ over momentary fashion every day.  I’ve learned to do that the past 17 years.

On baptism, it is critical to note a couple of things.  One, “being baptized” only truly counts if it is accepted with sentient free will, which is how it is always represented in the Bible.  Infant christenings and baby dedications are wonderful ways for parents and the church body to prayerfully declare their intentions for a child to live a life with Jesus, but that child is going to grow up and have to make a decision about that.  And while I believe He does, I do not understand how God intercedes with children and the mentally infirm except that He does it with love.

Two, the New Testament mentions baptism in a couple different ways – with water and with the Spirit: “baptized in John” (the Baptist) and “baptized in Christ.”  Water baptism is an ancient ceremonial cleansing common to many religions and cultures prior to Christ. Baptism in the Spirit is only in Christ, and was brand new with Jesus.  The water was the same, but the effect is dramatically different; the first was mere cleansing, while baptism “in the spirit” was and is the presence of God.

I believe God loves each one of us.  I pray each human being would be accepting of baptism.  Exactly how God is going to sort us all out – the Bible is pretty clear in some aspects and utterly opaque in others – isn’t something that I give much thought to.  Jesus tells us to trust Him, not to judge for Him, and I’m OK with that.

Baptism for me wasn’t a “beginning,” any more than a wedding is the “beginning” of a relationship.  I felt – solemnly – that I “met” Jesus for the first time sitting in that September 2001 church service.  I didn’t know much about Jesus, but God showed me a way to learn.  Then-senior minister Dave Faust at East 91st St. Christian Church in Indianapolis taught a “Walking with Christ” class over four Sunday evenings beginning in mid-October.  Dave led, the Spirit showed up, and suddenly the Bible – for the first time in my life – was making sense to me.  The spiritual and intellectual depth of Christ was at once obvious, riveting, unfathomable, compelling, and … really, really important.

It wasn’t fear or greed or guilt or needing to belong or any other common and overly-preached sermon point that made me raise my hand and “go forward” to be baptized.  I’d thought about the decision, wasn’t sure if it was the right time or not, but when the time came – Dave had told us there would be an opportunity “to come forward” at the end of the last class and be baptized later – for me there was just no point in waiting.   It was about 8 p.m. Sunday and three of us had stood up in the class of 20 or so.  To schedule the baptisms Dave asked, “When?” and I said, “How about right now?”  He laughed and said, “OK!”

Next thing you know we three, Dave, and most of the class (including table discussion leaders) hiked down to the church sanctuary where Dave turned on the lights, opened the baptistery, and into the water we went.  I’ll never, ever forget the calm, joyous, thankful, and spirit-rich feeling of coming back up into life with Christ.

What was I thinking?  I didn’t imagine that I was sin-free or a better person or part of some club.  No; I was smiling, was profoundly at peace, and was very much in a moment of profound gratitude, not thinking about what I would “become” as a Christian.  But the baptism stuck, and every Nov. 18 I say a prayer of remembrance and thanks to God – with a nod to the ministry of Dave Faust – for the magnificent, mysterious gift we have in Jesus.

And I think what I realized most in that baptismal moment was that a gift is not a gift until you open it.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) writes a personal and probably too-long letter to Dave Faust every year on this baptismal anniversary that is equal parts faith inventory, new stuff learned, books read, people encountered, challenges faced … and the deepest thanks for his ministry.  If you’ve been reading these “thankful” columns the past few weeks, Dave and Russ Blowers (it was Russ’s 50th anniversary at E91) preached together on that first Sunday I was at church, Sept. 2, 2001.  In 2002 Faust left E91 to become president of Cincinnati Christian University, and returned to the E91 staff as Associate Minister in 2014.  Walters also thanks Corey and Christy Falink who shepherded Bob’s study table at Dave 2001 class.  Corey is currently an elder at E91.  And speaking of thanks, Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Monday, November 12, 2018

626 - All You Need is Love


Spirituality Column #626
November 13, 2018
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

All You Need is Love
By Bob Walters

“But the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13

Russ Blowers was a terrific preacher of the Gospel but he was an even better lover of his Gospel flock.  Just ask anyone who knew him.

Russ was my buddy.  He was everyone’s buddy.  He knew your name, knew your family, knew your problems and your gifts, knew Jesus loves you, and made you want to love others around you.  The long-time pastoral heart and soul of East 91st Street Christian Church in Indianapolis, Russ could make you feel like you could fly.

So many times his name has come up joyfully but with wistful sadness in conversations with friends in the 11 years since his death Saturday, Nov. 10, 2007.  Counting his church family, the community, American church planting, and global missions, Russ knew and impacted thousands of people around Indianapolis, the country, and the world.  East 91st St. church grew from dozens when he arrived in 1951 (then East 49th St. Christian Church) to thousands when he retired in 1996, and continued to grow while he was Senior Minster Emeritus until his death.

I honestly can’t think of anyone in my life I’ve ever known who has been so missed by so many.  We all experience and list the intense, special emptiness of our own lost parents, family, and friends.  Russ is on a staggering number of those lists.

You didn’t know him?  I’m sorry.  He was a World War II veteran (U.S. Army Air Corps, Europe – he loaded ordinance on P-51 fighters).  He went to Ohio University where he majored in journalism and met his dear wife Marian, who first showed him what faith in Jesus Christ looked like.  He attended (then) Butler School of Theology in Indianapolis for his Masters of Divinity and while there he and Marian hosted Billy and Ruth Graham in their home as Billy spoke to students on campus … allowed not a big theater but only a table in the cafeteria.  Billy and Russ remained friends to life’s end.

In May before Russ died in 2007, the by-now renamed “Christian Theological Seminary” at Butler finally recognized Russ with a well-deserved honorary doctorate.  It took time because CTS was liberal in its Gospel views.  Russ, like Billy, was not.

I was a non-believer who happened to show up at E91 on Sunday, Sept. 2, 2001, the exact to-the-date 50th Anniversary Sunday of Russ’s arrival as the congregation’s pastor in 1951.  The crux of Russ’s “Faith-Hope-Love” message that day in 2001 was simple – Faith is in the past, Hope is in the future, and Love is in the present.  I got it.

Russ and I became close friends during my first six years as a Christian and his last six years as a minister. I asked Russ once what he thought was the secret to his success as a minister. Though he didn’t like the word “success”, he said, “Well … I love people.”  In Christ, it gets no simpler than that.  Everybody who knew Russ knows that.

It was his special gift and the wind beneath the wings of the church: Russ loved Jesus and loved others in a way that inspired everyone around him to do the same.

This year, 2018, is a “same days and dates” year to both 2001 and 2007. The great grace of Jesus is that we are called to look forward to his glory, not behind to our own sins, sadness, failures, or even successes: nothing that came before matters as much as what lies ahead, but I am sentimental so I notice things.  It was bittersweet but special sitting in church this year on Sunday, Sept. 2.  I thought of Russ; I often do.

It is again bittersweet but special as I write this on Saturday, Nov. 10, and it will be that way all week, remembering Russ.  He died late that Saturday evening, just 10 minutes before the start of Veteran’s Day.  A fierce American patriot and proud veteran, Russ would have enjoyed the Nov. 11 concurrence.  I understand that Russ’s sons Phil and Paul, Paul’s wife Sandy, close friend and minister John Samples, and former E91 elder (and cardiologist) Dr. Bill Storer were at Russ’s side when he passed at 11:50 p.m. at Clarion (now I.U.) North hospital in Carmel, Ind.  I saw Russ briefly the day before; he was just awake enough to shed a silent tear.  It was time for his 83-year-old body to retire and for his gentle, loving soul to fly to Jesus and rejoin Marian, who had died of Alzheimer’s Disease in 2003.

John, who did Russ’s funeral, called me with the news at 1:10 a.m. Sunday.

Russ’s funeral was Nov. 15, on a Thursday as it is this year.  I was a pall bearer and this is where I mention that Russ had shepherded me through a divorce two and a half years earlier.  I bring that up because a woman named Pam Brooks – a long-time “East91ster” – was playing tympani in the E91 brass ensemble at the funeral.

Pam and I met by chance – it seemed – just prior to the service.  What I didn’t know until we chatted Sunday, Nov. 18, was that Pam, too, was divorced in 2005.  What I didn’t know for another year and a half until shortly before we were married in June 2009 – by John Samples, incidentally – was that Pam had run into Russ in a Christian book store earlier in 2007 where they sat and chatted at length about Pam’s kids, life, and everything Russ always welcomed hearing.  As they departed, Russ mentioned he had a “good friend” he would introduce her to when he “thought the time was right.”

And we met at Russ’s funeral.  Anyone else see a connection?

So that’s what I’m thinking about this week.  In our Bible faith “tradition” we don’t “pray for the dead,” as such, because there is nothing left to pray for; they’re home.  But we pray to behold the great mercies and grace Jesus affords in this life that enable us to weather the great travails and sorrows of grieving those we love and miss so much.  We pray a prayer for peace in our hearts and thanksgiving for the great saints of faith.

Russ was one of those.

This column is longer than usual but hey, it’s about Russ.  We’ll close with the tender, affirming words of the old greeting on Russ’s home answering machine:

“Father God, thank you for this person who called while I was out.  And thank you that when we call on you, we never get a busy signal or an answering machine.  I pray that this person who is known and loved by you has the greatest day of his or her life … in Jesus’ name, Amen.”

I can still hear his voice.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) is thankful, has written often about Russ, and if you’ve read this far Bob doesn’t mind if you know that the early columns, the ones in his first “Common Christianity” book (2006-2011), are on the blog site link BelieverBob.  Columns #55-59, 87, 105, and 157 are his favorites on Russ, or simply search “Russ Blowers” in the upper left search box   Same with the blog CommonChristianity  (2011-present). If you have the “Common Christianity” books, just look under “Russ” in the index in the back.  Longtime East91sters might also enjoy Russ Stories (link), a collection of remembrances written by church members at the time of his funeral.

Monday, January 16, 2017

531 - When Christ is New

Spirituality Column No. 531
January 17, 2017
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

When Christ is New
By Bob Walters

Fifteen years ago I couldn’t have predicted how I’d feel, now, a decade and a half into a life with Christ.  At least I couldn’t have predicted this.  I had no idea.
 
And here is what surprises me: it’s still all new, every day, this life with Christ.  I’m more interested in Jesus now than I was 15 years ago on that November Sunday evening in 2001 when East 91st Street Christian Church pastor Dave Faust in Indianapolis so graciously spent extra time after our final Walking with Christ class in leading our group to the E91 sanctuary baptistery where three of us buried our sins and came alive in Christ.
 
Coming up out of the water, with the peace and joy of salvation washing over me and a sense of the adventure before me, is so very vividly and forever in my memory.  I can still feel the moment; I can see it.
 
Yet today I have so much more.
 
What I have now is assuredness in Jesus, in the Bible and in the fellowship of believers I’ve been so blessed to come to know, trust, lean on, learn from and love.  In the baptismal pool there was the blossoming bud of faith and the expectant sapling of curiosity, but no way could I anticipate the life-altering depth of the journey ahead.
 
And that depth is the depth of Jesus.  What a world-confining mistake it is to think our lives consist of our daily routines, successes, failures and challenges; our “overcomings” and our “underwhelmings.”  The life-altering nature of Christ is in realizing real life only exists in Him.
 
I’ve heard “change” preached from pulpits in the profane sense of changing our daily habits and “being a better person.”  When Christ altered my life, it has shown itself over the years in having blown the lid entirely off of what I thought “life” was all about in the finite realm of the daily habits of this world.
 
Through Christ we taste the mind of God, not the mere appetites of this physical world.  We encounter this life’s delights and comforts, its sorrows and distresses, and the vagaries attendant to fear and desire.  And Paul tells us they all mean precisely nothing compared to a life in Christ.  Fifteen years ago – even in the hope and promise of baptism – I had no idea what that meant or why I’d want it or if I could even understand it.  But now … I get it.  And I know the more of it I get, the more God is glorified in the continuously expanding love of even one sinner like me who happily entertains every personal doubt of worldly being while reflexively trusting the doubtless goodness, faithfulness and love of the Father, Son and Spirit.
 
Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) adapted this column from his 2016 thank you, faith inventory and update letter he writes to Faust every year marking the November 18 anniversary of Dave baptizing him in 2001. Jesus is eternally new; Walters had no idea.

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