Believe it or not, after 100 days as pastor of Mount Hermon Baptist Church, I still can get lost when wandering through our facilities. You can’t believe how many times I’ve either had to ask people for directions or, more often than not—like a typical guy—refuse to admit that I’m lost and just keep searching until I belatedly stumble upon the room I was seeking.
Recently, I was upstairs making my way through one of our classroom areas, when I happened upon an unexpected blast from the past. It was a roomful of old gray metal folding chairs, the sudden sight of which triggered some warm, positive memories. OK, OK, I know what you’re thinking. “Poor Pastor Danny…he must really lead a dull life if he gets all emotional about metal folding chairs!”
But, please, bear with me just a minute. Here’s the deal. You’ve probably never thought about this, but most standard metal folding chairs, for whatever reason, are beige or tan. In fact, every church I’ve ever served as pastor has had tan or beige metal folding chairs. I imagine that decades ago some unknown church chair czar mandated that tan or beige would forever be the official color of all heretofore-produced church chairs. Until recent years, very few chair manufacturers dared to deviate from that hallowed tradition. Except for one wildly adventurous entrepreneur that at some point decided to boldly produce some chairs in—of all colors—gray!
The last (and only) time I ever saw gray chairs was some twenty years ago. At the time, I was serving as pastor of Melville Avenue Baptist Church here in Danville. I had a good friend that was the pastor of a tiny mission church in a remote corner of West Virginia. Mark Partin had a big vision for his little church in mountains. For a long time his fledgling congregation had struggled, moving from place to place, meeting only in rented facilities. But then Mark challenged his small band of believers to acquire land and build a building—a God-sized challenge for this little group—which they did, with the generous financial assistance of a number of mission-minded churches in the South along with the volunteer labor of several visiting mission teams. My church—Melville Avenue—decided to assist them as well.
At one point, we were in the process of gathering some supplies to take up to them. One of their specific needs was metal folding chairs for their new classrooms. They couldn’t afford to buy any, so our church decided to see what we could do to help. Although we didn’t have the funds to buy them either, we did have a number of old chairs in storage that weren’t being utilized. So, we determined that we could spare them for the sake of a sister church in need. But our contribution alone was not enough to meet their entire need.
Recently, I was upstairs making my way through one of our classroom areas, when I happened upon an unexpected blast from the past. It was a roomful of old gray metal folding chairs, the sudden sight of which triggered some warm, positive memories. OK, OK, I know what you’re thinking. “Poor Pastor Danny…he must really lead a dull life if he gets all emotional about metal folding chairs!”
But, please, bear with me just a minute. Here’s the deal. You’ve probably never thought about this, but most standard metal folding chairs, for whatever reason, are beige or tan. In fact, every church I’ve ever served as pastor has had tan or beige metal folding chairs. I imagine that decades ago some unknown church chair czar mandated that tan or beige would forever be the official color of all heretofore-produced church chairs. Until recent years, very few chair manufacturers dared to deviate from that hallowed tradition. Except for one wildly adventurous entrepreneur that at some point decided to boldly produce some chairs in—of all colors—gray!
The last (and only) time I ever saw gray chairs was some twenty years ago. At the time, I was serving as pastor of Melville Avenue Baptist Church here in Danville. I had a good friend that was the pastor of a tiny mission church in a remote corner of West Virginia. Mark Partin had a big vision for his little church in mountains. For a long time his fledgling congregation had struggled, moving from place to place, meeting only in rented facilities. But then Mark challenged his small band of believers to acquire land and build a building—a God-sized challenge for this little group—which they did, with the generous financial assistance of a number of mission-minded churches in the South along with the volunteer labor of several visiting mission teams. My church—Melville Avenue—decided to assist them as well.
At one point, we were in the process of gathering some supplies to take up to them. One of their specific needs was metal folding chairs for their new classrooms. They couldn’t afford to buy any, so our church decided to see what we could do to help. Although we didn’t have the funds to buy them either, we did have a number of old chairs in storage that weren’t being utilized. So, we determined that we could spare them for the sake of a sister church in need. But our contribution alone was not enough to meet their entire need.
One of our members—a former Mount Hermon member—suggested that Mount Hermon might have some older folding chairs they would be willing to donate. I contacted David Barrett, Mount Hermon’s pastor at the time, and he came through for us. The church donated several of its extra chairs to help out this young church in West Virginia. When that happened, I remember Sandy and me driving out to Mount Hermon with a rented U-Haul trailer hooked to the back of our ’78 Chevy Impala. We loaded it with chairs.
I remember those chairs vividly. They were light gray and had a distinctively different appearance than the other chairs we were taking, which (obviously) were tan or beige. Once we loaded them up, Sandy—yes, Sandy! For some reason I couldn’t go with her at the time—drove our old battle-hardened sedan, towing the loaded trailer along winding mountain roads, all the way up to the northwestern part of West Virginia. (The car actually died on the way up and Sandy had to go to a garage and find a mechanic to work on it. Don’t ever ask Sandy about that old Impala. It had a lovely powder-blue exterior with a stylish black vinyl interior. But, for some reason that I never fully understood, it was—to say the least—her least favorite car of any that we’ve ever owned. She affectionately referred to it as "The Blue Bomb". Back in those days to call something a "bomb" was not in any way a compliment. Later on, Sandy actually wound up selling this car while I was out of the country. But that's a whole other story.)
Anyway, when Sandy finally made it to her destination with the precious cargo in tow, the Partins and their young congregation were absolutely ecstatic. You would have thought it was Christmas morning! They were so proud of and so thankful for those donated chairs. All of a sudden, their barren classrooms were filled with much-needed seats…and soon those seats would be filled with people.
The other day, when I walked into that upstairs classroom at Mount Hermon, and saw some of those same old chairs still in use, it reminded me of those other chairs that made the trek up to West Virginia so long ago. I had forgotten all about that small mission project until then. Interestingly, this is yet another personal connection from my past with Mount Hermon Baptist Church. And this whole unsung story is yet another connection that Mount Hermon has with unselfish missions giving and the cause of Christ.
Donating a few used chairs might not seem like such a big deal to you, but to a small church in West Virginia those chairs meant everything. A lot of time has passed since then, but I suspect that if you and I were to take a little road trip up to West Union, West Virginia, and we were to visit the town’s First Southern Baptist Church, we’d still find some of those old durable chairs in use.
As we approach the upcoming Easter season, and our annual Southern Baptist offering for North American Missions, I thought you might like to know how Mount Hermon—my present church—and Melville Avenue—my former church—long ago pooled their resources to help out a small mission church in need.
I believe that God smiles on things like that. God absolutely loves it when we partner together for the good of the Kingdom and for the advancement of the Gospel. Truly, that’s what missions are all about…whether it means reaching out to West Africa, West Virginia, or Westover Drive.
By the way, if you’ve ever wondered whatever happened to that favorite chair of yours that suddenly disappeared from your Sunday School classroom twenty years ago, now you finally know the rest of the story!
Pastor Danny
I remember those chairs vividly. They were light gray and had a distinctively different appearance than the other chairs we were taking, which (obviously) were tan or beige. Once we loaded them up, Sandy—yes, Sandy! For some reason I couldn’t go with her at the time—drove our old battle-hardened sedan, towing the loaded trailer along winding mountain roads, all the way up to the northwestern part of West Virginia. (The car actually died on the way up and Sandy had to go to a garage and find a mechanic to work on it. Don’t ever ask Sandy about that old Impala. It had a lovely powder-blue exterior with a stylish black vinyl interior. But, for some reason that I never fully understood, it was—to say the least—her least favorite car of any that we’ve ever owned. She affectionately referred to it as "The Blue Bomb". Back in those days to call something a "bomb" was not in any way a compliment. Later on, Sandy actually wound up selling this car while I was out of the country. But that's a whole other story.)
Anyway, when Sandy finally made it to her destination with the precious cargo in tow, the Partins and their young congregation were absolutely ecstatic. You would have thought it was Christmas morning! They were so proud of and so thankful for those donated chairs. All of a sudden, their barren classrooms were filled with much-needed seats…and soon those seats would be filled with people.
The other day, when I walked into that upstairs classroom at Mount Hermon, and saw some of those same old chairs still in use, it reminded me of those other chairs that made the trek up to West Virginia so long ago. I had forgotten all about that small mission project until then. Interestingly, this is yet another personal connection from my past with Mount Hermon Baptist Church. And this whole unsung story is yet another connection that Mount Hermon has with unselfish missions giving and the cause of Christ.
Donating a few used chairs might not seem like such a big deal to you, but to a small church in West Virginia those chairs meant everything. A lot of time has passed since then, but I suspect that if you and I were to take a little road trip up to West Union, West Virginia, and we were to visit the town’s First Southern Baptist Church, we’d still find some of those old durable chairs in use.
As we approach the upcoming Easter season, and our annual Southern Baptist offering for North American Missions, I thought you might like to know how Mount Hermon—my present church—and Melville Avenue—my former church—long ago pooled their resources to help out a small mission church in need.
I believe that God smiles on things like that. God absolutely loves it when we partner together for the good of the Kingdom and for the advancement of the Gospel. Truly, that’s what missions are all about…whether it means reaching out to West Africa, West Virginia, or Westover Drive.
By the way, if you’ve ever wondered whatever happened to that favorite chair of yours that suddenly disappeared from your Sunday School classroom twenty years ago, now you finally know the rest of the story!
Pastor Danny
