Less than a handful

Last Wednesday we held our annual “Around-the-Grounds” prayer event. For several years running, we have held a “back-to-school” prayer walk and gathering on the Wednesday before school begins. On a typical prayer walk, we may have 15-20 people of all ages on hand who, after brief, corporate prayer at the flag pole outside of the school, disperse into teams of 2 and 3 to either pray around the school grounds or through the school halls. It's usually a mixed crowd of parents, supportive members of the community and kids of all ages. We start at the high school/middle school and later move over to the elementary school to repeat the whole process there. The teams who move inside pray in different places of the building invoking God's presence there. They are also encouraged to sensitively approach teachers and other staff and ask if they can pray for them. In a small town, most people know each other anyway and staff usually welcome prayer and are frequently touched by the fact that someone would pray for them.

But this year's walk, at least on the surface, appeared to be almost a non-event. Only two other individuals besides myself were on hand – a 17-year old senior and a retired teacher. Despite news releases in both the “Back to School” special insert in our weekly paper as well as on the “church page”, despite discussion at the Breakfast Club and email reminders, vacations, appointments, and other things, apparently took precedent over this important walk. But on the kingdom principle that three is a quorum (“For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." Matthew 18:20), we began our walk at noon as planned. We spent a good fifteen minutes praying by the flag pole before making our slow meander around the grounds of Chetek-Weyerhaeuser high school and middle school. Two of us use a prayer language and so frequently while one was praying in English the other was quietly speaking in tongues. We took Paul's counsel to heart about “praying every way you know how for everyone you know” (1 Timothy 2:1, Msg) and asked God to fill the place, to protect those who would frequent it or play upon the fields around it, and for gospel-sharing activity to take place within it. With the exception of the Middle School secretary, who is a part of the Refuge faith family, we found no one else to pray for. All else were either on lunch break or in staff meetings.

Part of the 2011 prayer walk

When it was time to move over to Roselawn, our senior had to go so it was now just Teresa and I. But we metaphorically linked arms and began the process all over again. All the teachers at the elementary school were in a staff meeting with the principal so we walked the halls mostly just quietly praying in tongues. Admittedly, given the fact that we had been at this for over two hours now, we both were beginning to run out of gas and out of things to pray for. But we finished the task and considered our schools sufficiently blessed for the onset of the new school year which begins just a few days from now.

That night I had invited all the other fellowships in town as well as anyone else from the community who were not able to participate in the prayer walk to join us at Focus for a prayer meeting. Apart from our own kids, Pastor Norm and my wife were the only two “outsiders” to bolster our ranks. But we worshiped, we had the group of about 20 break into three prayer circles and pray spontaneously for the upcoming school year and then, later, I opened the floor mic for anyone who wanted to pray something for us to corporately agree with. I had only two takers (but these kids can pray!) And then we returned to worship to end the gathering.

 So, was it a failed prayer meeting? I mean, what does it mean when you invite people to pray with you about a place and for some people that are important to us all and nobody (or very few) respond? Is it unbelief? Is it indifference? Is it not appreciating the significance of the Body of Christ corporately gathering together? Those who normally would have been there made a point of calling me up and letting me know they would not be able to participate this year on account of various reasons. And this is not the first time I have called a prayer meeting to order and there was no need of a gavel. But it isn't that prayers weren't prayed – they were! And they were not pale prayers, strung out needlessly to fill space. Both the three prayer-walkers and the twenty individuals who gathered in the sanctuary this past Wednesday night prayed sincerely and, at times, passionately for the things that were on their heart to pray. The fact that less than 25 were on hand to agree together on these things does not lessen the significance of their prayers. God heard and I trust that it matters.

At the annual Night of Power vigil held at The Well a few weeks ago, only six participated in the 6 p.m.-12 midnight prayer gathering on behalf of our Somali neighbors. A few nights ago at the House of Prayer, an all night prayer meeting was held on behalf of Steve and Kari from our fellowship as Steve continues to recover from a traumatic brain injury suffered on account of a motorcycle accident this past spring. While I certainly wasn't there for all of it, I think they had a good turn-out (maybe two dozen individuals who showed up at different times during the 12-hour set.) Worship was led and prayers were said. I don't doubt that they were effectual regardless of how any of us felt about the flow of our intercession.

I don't think our experience in Barron County is all that different than a lot of places in America. As a people we have no stomach for corporate prayer gatherings or we no longer know how to sit quietly and wait so “plugged in” are we. Things come up and certainly no one can be at everything but the relatively low turnout to these gatherings suggest to me that we lack understanding about the significance of when Christians in a certain community come together and pray. What's more, it is another sign that as a people we are maxed out emotionally and our appetite for God and his kingdom has been spoiled by other – and I would add, lesser – things. Nevertheless, I am grateful for those who came, for those who maybe did not come but prayed at work or at home and for all the other prayers that will be lifted on behalf of our teachers and students through the course of the next school year.

Sometimes the leopard can

“The gist of [Luke] 15 is that it is God who saves men, and that he does so because he wishes and delights to do so.” The Message of Luke by Michael Wilcock. The Bible Speaks Today Series. © 1979 by IVP. P. 156

Last Sunday afternoon in the multipurpose room of the Barron County Justice Center about 30 inmates and three jailers bore witness to God's ability to save. For the first time in his life, Troy went to jail on his own accord (he's been taken to jail lots of time before.) I've written about Troy before. Last July I shared about that remarkable Sunday when he asked to be born again (Being Born Again on Sunday - July 28) and then in December following Christmas Eve service (Miracle - Dec 30). Watching salvation come to his home in realtime has been one of my personal highlights of the past year.

Baptized at "the 40"

Troy and I met at the JC a few days after the services I held on the last Sunday in January 2011 and then began to meet weekly right up until I left for a three-week missions trip to the Philippines and he acquired Huber privileges. When he was released at the end of May, he was at our next worship gathering just as he had promised he would be. And he's been there ever since. After his release, we continued to meet weekly at his home reading Scripture and praying together. His wife, Marie, would sometimes sit with us but mostly it was he and I sharing together while the rest of his household came and went. He was born again in July and baptized at our Annual Faith Family Camp a few weeks later. Last fall, we ran a modified Alpha course of which Marie and he were a part of . When the plant he worked at relocated out of state, he didn't climb into the bottle (although he insists he was tempted to.) Within a week or two, he was hired by a factory in Rice Lake and has been working there ever since. His 13-year old son, Alex, comes to our weekly worship gathering from time to time as does Marie. Troy has used his many skills to repair all sorts of things at our facility, served as our cook for the Alpha Course and, when his wife was laid up, he actually baked a wedding cake for a young couple of our fellowship who were recently married. Is there anything this man cannot do?

Troy's son, Alex, and I share the same birthday (plus or minus 37years)

The man's got talent

Our Annual Missions Event this past May focused on loving our neighbors whether they live across the street or across the ocean. Troy shared at the Friday night story-telling session how he planned to return to jail as soon as we “off paper” (in order for a former inmate of the JC to participate in any of the worship gatherings they must be clean for one year or more) so that he could share his story with people who are sitting where he once sat. He met with Sheree, the Director of Inmate Services, in mid-July and was issued his official badge that designates that he is a member of the ministry team (his “get-out-of-jail-free” card.) And this past Sunday he accompanied me as I drove over to Barron to conduct the service there. He was understandably nervous. He has been to the JC way too many times for a guy his age and now, for the first time, he would be on the other side of it. Before we walked in, he turned to me and said, “I need a quick smoke.” A few puffs later, we were on our way in.

Due to the fact that there would only be one service today, the multipurpose room was full and because it was the sergeant on duty would assist the two other jailers who normally sit in on the worship gatherings. Jim knows Troy well having had to lock him up many times before. When the last block of guys were seated, Jim gave me the high sign and we began. Troy had told me at Refuge when we met for prayer before we drove over that he didn't think he would share much. When I introduced him to the guys (and gals), he took about three minutes to share a little bit about himself. It wasn't what you would call an eloquent speech but in my estimate him being there was the message that was exceedingly poignant. In that hour long service he took several more steps in what I like to refer to as “the Kingdom's great recycling plan.”

“Praise God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! The Father is a merciful God, who always gives us comfort. He comforts us when we are in trouble, so that we can share that same comfort with others in trouble.”(2 Corinthians 1:3-4, CEV)

In the Kingdom nothing is wasted – no trial, no pain, no stupid decisions we make, no wrong path we carelessly take – when, after repenting of the same and giving our pain to Jesus, he “recycles” it turning it into another's gain. That afternoon, Troy made good on a promise he made to me while still an inmate at the JC and testified just by being there of God's wonderful, yes, amazing, grace.

The Sower is still sowing

Sitting in that audience were two individuals that I have had frequent conversations with this past year. Both are what the guards would call “lifers”, people who just can't beat it and come and go to the Justice Center or other places of incarceration. “Sally” had been introduced to Jesus by one of the guards several months ago and having known her for years, we have met regularly over the last five months or so. She has two kids – a high schooler and a grade-schooler, both of whom are living with her mom in Chetek. She was facing sentencing a few days from our Sunday worship gathering. “Mark” is an undiscipled believer in Jesus who is facing sentencing another week from now. I gave Mark the same counsel I had given Sally the last time I met with her: Whatever happens in that courtroom, can you trust that the Lord's leadership is perfect? Can you believe the words that Paul counseled other disciples who were enduring hardship, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Rom 8:28) and that nothing, absolutely nothing, separates us from his love and care (Rom 8:31-39)? Sally was sentenced to prison for seven years this past week. Sheree sent me an email telling me that she no longer wishes to see me – or anyone else for that matter. What will Mark do when things don't play the way he hopes they will a week or so from now? Will he see a prison sentence as not only discipline but as an assignment from heaven? Or will he leave his Bible behind when he is moved to Dodge Correctional? Time will tell just how much or little the grace of God is at work in him. At the moment, Sally seems to be playing the part of the “seed in the rocks” as if on cue.

“Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?” (Jeremiah 13:23) so quipped Jeremiah to his Judean audience citing an ancient proverbial saying to upbraid them for their hard-heartedness. The implication, of course, is that people cannot change who they are apart, of course, by the work of a sovereign God. This past Sunday Troy bore witness to the fact that every once in a while, the leopard can, indeed, change. After the gathering was over and the inmates had cleared the room, Sergeant Jim came up to us to thank us for coming and then turning to Troy he said, “You know, it's good to know that some stories turn out well after all.” Amen, Sergeant Jim. I heartily agree.

May he never need it

No small thing

It's small but it's home

“As there are no little people in God’s sight, so there are no little places. To be wholly committed to God in the place where God wants him-this is the creature glorified.”

Francis Schaeffer, from “No Little People, No Little Places”

I live and work in a small town. I pastor a small fellowship in a community that boasts several equally small congregations. But in our little place God is doing wonderfully large things.

Every Tuesday morning for many years running a small group of pastors and ministry leaders has gathered at Bob's Grill to have breakfast and pray together. There's usually a lot of laughter and lighthearted banter followed by an earnest time of intercession for our community and the surrounding area. While announcements are allowed it is not a meeting. It's brothers and sisters (one of our membership is a female pastor and frequently wives show up as well) getting together to encourage and pray for one another. When Norm lost his wife of 52 years last year, we were his grief support group. When Kirk had some health issues that required hospitalization, we were his chaplains. With tongue-in-cheek homage to the movie of the same name, “The Breakfast Club” is how I refer to it. We minister in different settings and different theological traditions but that's beside the point. It is a brotherhood and our habit of eating and praying together on a regular basis has led to swapping pulpits from time to time, prayer gatherings together for our community and joint worship gatherings. After Norm lost his wife, with my leadership's okay we shut down our place one Sunday and went to join his simply as a sign that we loved him. This is no small thing.

It's easy to miss this small building

A couple of years ago, in response to the growing Somali refugee population in nearby Barron, a handful of Christian fellowships – three from Chetek among them – were instrumental in launching The Well International. Our mission is to affect our Somali neighbors with the love of Jesus Christ through tutoring, English language lessons and other such services. We rent a small facility in Barron, have hired both a Director and an English teacher and through the director's efforts have attracted a handful of volunteers to serve. Who among the town fathers of Barron back in the 19^th Century would have thought that a mosque would number among the religious gathering places in that city of 3,000 all these years later? I'm sure none of them. But 600 members of the Somali diaspora reside in the county seat now but the good news is a group of disciples of Jesus work alongside them in hopes of seeing God do the impossible in our small county: establish a Somali fellowship. That's not a big goal. That's setting your sights on the moon. In the four or five years that there has been intentional Christian witness to this small slice of Africa, many significant relationships have been formed and, especially recently, important dialogues of faith have occurred. Think of them like Mount Carmel-show-downs only with far less drama. Each group is seeking to convert the other but the important thing is that we are having this conversation! This, in terms of benchmarks, is huge.

The House of Prayer on its inaugural day

This past spring, a group of a dozen people from a few of the fellowships in our community began a House of Prayer right downtown. They are open every Thursday night from 6:30-9:30 and during a usual set there are a handful of individuals with a heart to pray for our city who gather together to worship and intercede. Like last night. I didn't get there until over an hour into the set. Rick and Sandy, the ex-officio leaders of HOP, were present along with one of their daughters and little Elijah, the 1 year-old son of a young woman from our fellowship who has been living with them since he was born. My daughter had led the first worship set. My son was leading the next. Another couple from the Alliance fellowship in town were also on hand. For three hours this small group sat in the gathering room and invoked his presence in our community in greater measure. This, too, is no small thing.

A matter of perspective

As you would expect in a small community among small fellowships there are small endeavors going on regularly whether it's the men's and women's groups that gather at United Methodist on Tuesdays (guys meet early morning, ladies meet for lunch) or Kirk's early morning Tuesday prayer group that meets at the HOP. And these are just the ones that I am aware of. Who knows how many others are gathering together in homes, at eateries or in church basements to read the Word and pray together. But the fact that our town is small, our fellowships are small and our groups are small does not add up to “smallness” as in inconsequential or insignificant. As Francis Schaeffer so aptly pointed out in the same essay as his oft-quoted “no little people” piece,

Nowhere more than in America are Christians caught in the twentieth-century syndrome of size. Size will show success. If I am consecrated, there will necessarily be large quantities of people, dollars, etc. This is not so. Not only does God not say that size and spiritual power go together, but he even reverses this (especially in the teaching of Jesus) and tells us to be deliberately careful not to choose a place too big for us. We all tend to emphasize big works and big places, but all such emphasis is of the flesh. To think in such terms is simply to hearken back to the old, unconverted, egoist, self-centered Me. This attitude, taken from the world, is more dangerous to the Christian than fleshly amusement or practice. It is the flesh.

Norm, the Caleb among us in the shadow of his 80^th year, makes a point of reminding anyone who cares to listen to him that in all his years of ministry spanning over 40 years he has never been a part of such a fellowship as the one that exists here. “It's not just that we're fellow pastors and so we get together to socialize with one another. You all have my back and I have yours.” He rarely says that without becoming a bit teary-eyed. Apparently to Norm this is no small thing either.

Blurred to protect his identity

We've had a recent addition to the Breakfast Club. I wouldn't necessarily mention it here if I thought my blog had a nation-wide following. But since mostly my readers include my mom and few other mildly interested fans I think I can share this without his secret getting too loose. Mick is the pastor of Faith Baptist Church, the largest game in town in terms of regular attendance (perhaps 200 on a Sunday morning). I lovingly refer to Faith as “the Walled City”. It's roots deep in separatistic Baptist tradition, by such tradition and habit corporately they have a hard time mixing with others – even with fellow Baptist fellowships of the same ilk in surrounding communities. But Mick has begun to join us at the table. He enjoys the fellowship – and we enjoy his. Admittedly he usually sits with his back against the wall for fear that some of the old guard might spy him eating with persons of such questionable theology as we but he has been joining us all the same. Despite the fact that I am a tongue-talker and Carrie is a female pastor, he's willing to be seen with us at the same table his critics be danged. Something new is afoot. And it is no small thing and it makes me thank God all over again for being assigned to such a small post in this small town.

Cameron Prayer Journey

“A small hamlet sprang into being in 1879, eventually it was named Cameron by Colonel George W. Ginty, in honor of Hon. Angus Cameron United States Senator from Wisconsin for many years. The location was in the old Town of Rice Lake which was created in 1874. Old Cameron was located 1 ½ miles south of the present site of Cameron at what was known as Holman's crossing.” pp. 63-64

…

“When the Soo Line started to build East and West from a point one and a half miles north of Old Cameron there was consternation in the village, some of the people wanted to move up to the junction and others wanted to stay put. Eventually everyone decided to move.” p. 64

“The History of Cameron” by Mr. & Mrs. Ray Burton, chapter 4 of Pages from the Past: An early history of Chetek and surrounding communities by Hazel Calhoun (1971)

A week ago today, I drove eight miles north of Chetek to spend the day in the village of Cameron. Just as I had in Prairie Farm a few weeks before (see Prairie Farm Prayer Journey), my purpose for coming was essentially to wait on the Lord and pray for this community. But unlike Prairie Farm where I was unacquainted with that community, I am fairly familiar with this small town. In our early years in Chetek, our two oldest who had learning disabilities received good and quality care at the Early Education program run out of Cameron Elementary. One of the first pastors in our area that I became introduced to was Pastor Wayne Hall of Abundant Life Church on Museum Road. He reached out to me and invited me to his weekly Tuesday prayer gathering for pastors. Over the years I have attended various services at Abundant Life or participated in county wide prayer events led by Pastor Hall. While the Cameron Prayer Bank was in operation, we held a couple of prayer retreats at that facility. Some of the kids from our fellowship's youth group have been students in the Cameron School District. And frankly, not a week goes by when either myself or members of my family pass through Cameron on our way to work or shop in Rice Lake. All this to say that at the onset I was aware of the need for greater discernment as I engaged in prayer for this small town.

Just going by appearances, Cameron has a very different feel than Prairie Farm. There is no “Welcome to Cameron” or “The Churches of Cameron Welcome You” sign (later in the day I did find a very small city sign that did welcome people to the village but it was on a street that, compared to Highway SS or Highway W, is seldom rode upon and therefore hardly noticeable.) Here is a community three times as large as Prairie Farm but the welcome mat apparently is not out. My first stop on my day long journey was Guy Speirs Park, a small community park located on the west side of Cameron on Cranberry Creek just as you are leaving town. Unlike Pioneer Park of Prairie Farm, this has all the trappings of a small town park. A pathetic looking swing and slide placed a couple of hundred feet from a swampy area. The grass was long. No flag adorned the small monument raised by the VFW. While their shelters are clean and look like they have been constructed in the last 10 years or so, when I went to use the mens room I was greeted by two snakes who had crawled in under the entrance door. Taken as an aggregate, this park and by extension, this town, has the look and feel of neglect and decay. Much like the creek flowing through the park which is ringed with algae, the village has the feel of a community that has seen better days.

For several years I have been struck by the apparent disunity or, at the very least, disconnect of the different fellowships of Cameron. There are three Lutheran fellowships – St. John's (Missouri Synod), Faith (ELCA) and Living Waters (ELCA), four congregations in the Pentecostal/evangelical tradition - Abundant Life, Towering Pines Community (Assembly of God), Good Samaritan Ministries and Highway Gospel - and St. Peter's Catholic Church. At one time, there was a Methodist congregation here (a two-point parish the other being Chetek) but that has been closed for many years. A Baptist fellowship in the separatist tradition moved in but they have since disbanded. The building sits empty now and up for sale. A group connected with the Methodist Church did try to begin afresh a couple of years ago (calling themselves Cranberry Creek) but I believe that effort, too, has ceased. A few years ago a family purchased the old Cameron Bank, remodeled it and opened up what they simply referred to as the Cameron Prayer Bank. For several years they were open on Wednesday nights and on every 11^th of the month from 11 a.m.-11 p.m. (on the basis of their persuasion that America was in its 11^th hour) and some of us from the Chetek area would gather there to pray. But they closed up shop last year and have since moved on. From an outsider's perspective, there seems to be something in the water that is choking off new faith ventures. While I may be incorrect on this, I do not believe there is much cooperation between the active fellowships in this community.

Guy Speirs Park looking north

Contrary to appearances, the water is flowing

I think the phrase that best sums up my impression of Cameron from my day of prayer there is that it seems to be a city of contradictions: they boast a beautiful new Middle School and plans are in the work for a much needed elementary school. Mosaic, a local telephone, internet and cable company built their headquarters here not too long ago. St. Peter's Catholic is a gem of a facility to visit. Rausch-Lundeen Funeral Home is also a relatively new beautiful facility. And just a few years ago, the citizens of Cameron dedicated their new public library and community center. Sitting in Guy Speirs Park I am struck by the fact that you are never out of earshot of the din of traffic – people passing on Highway W/Main Street traveling to or from Barron, the roar of traffic on Highway 53 just west of the city limits or on Highway 8 just south of Cameron or the steady stream of vehicles passing north and south on Highway SS. So many people pass through or around this little burb every day but how many live here? How many have placed roots here and are seeking the shalom of the city that they now call home? The homes on Main Street (I mean the old ones) are beautiful and ornate. Chetek has nothing to compare with it but for all these signs of promise – the new construction, the flow of traffic, the growth in the population (nearly 2,000 as of the last census), I was left with feeling of stagnancy much like the Cranberry Creek flowage passing through the park.

There's treasure in Cameron

I had brought my GPS unit along and knew there was a geocache in the park. I quickly found it and was struck by what I found in the cache: a pocket New Testament. I immediately sensed the Lord say, “There is treasure in Cameron.” That find put me in a different frame of mind and for the rest of the day I was in search of that treasure. I pulled out my Bible and re-read my devotional reading from that morning – Luke 12:49-59. It's the passage where Jesus sets the record straight: He's not here to make nice with everyone nor help everyone to make nice with each other. He's here to make trouble – to make a person choose are you for him or against him. He chides his audience for being willfully ignorant. “You can read the signs for a change in the weather, why can't you read the signs of what you see?” (see v. 56). He then warns them to repent before it's too late. It's not what I would refer to as “feel-good” devotional reading. He doesn't want to put us in a contemplative mood. He wants to unleash a hive of bees among us. Sitting in the shelter at Guy Speirs Park I read that aloud over the city and then walked out to the southern most point of the park to pray where I made a discovery: though it appears entirely stagnant, Cranberry Creek's water is flowing steadily. So out on that point I prayed for Cameron to respond to the Lord while there still is time and then prayed for the Church of Jesus in this community as well as for the pastors and shepherds who lead her. I prayed that wherever there was a sense of stagnancy, the water would flow again in their individual lives as well as in the congregations they pastor.

I then drove west out of town to Rudolf Road and turned into the new subdivision where I had run a year or so ago on a cold, winter morning. In this neighborhood of new homes there is a small park and boat landing on the Cameron Flowage. Unlike Guy Speirs, Babe & Phyl Park is nicely kept up and better equipped with playground equipment. But it must not be used much as their seems to be lots of green weeds growing in the sand where kids should be playing. I walked down to the Flowage to find the next cache there and pray for awhile at one of the picnic tables that are located in a nicely maintained area along the lake. According to the DNR website, the Cameron Flowage is a 59-acre lake that looks more like a stagnant river than anything else. Great globs of algae fill every bay. Where the public dock is I noticed two forlorn bobbers that must have been cut loose by frustrated fisherman. I was able to fish one out and it sits now on my desk as a mnemonic device to pray for every pastor in Cameron, every frustrated laborer who has been discouraged because of their lack of a catch. I prayed for each of them that they would cast again. The DNR assures anglers that there are panfish, largemouth bass and northern pike out there. Jesus assures us that the harvest remains unharvested and in need of more hands for the work. 

I caught that one and it now sits on my desk as a reminder to pray

Looking at the Flowage caused me to ask, "Where's the flow?"

Looking at that gross, murky water that I wouldn't even dare to wade in, I was inspired to read Ezekiel 47:1-12 and so read it over the Flowage but especially v. 10: “...so where the river flows everything will live.” I prayed again that wherever things are stagnant and murky and slimy that the river of God would flow fresh to renew the heart of the Church in Cameron.

Abundant Life Church

A third cache is located at Johnson's Landing on the Red Cedar River west of Cameron but there were way too many people at the take out area so I drove back across the river and into Abundant Life Church's parking lot to see if Pastor Wayne was around. I was fortunate to find him home cutting his lawn. We visited for awhile. Pastor Wayne shared with me that 2011 was a tough year for him. His small congregation split in two apparently over issues having to do with special offerings received for paying off their land. Yet despite the pain of the lost, he assured me “God is good! Our bills are paid and praise God I still receive my full salary!” Wayne has been here nearly 40 years – a generation – and if he took the time could fill a small book of God's move in this area. One of my favorite stories I once heard him tell was the Service of Reconciliation they once held in their sanctuary. Before white settlement in mid-1800s, this area was contended over by the Sioux and the Ojibwa. Eventually, the Ojibwa pushed the Sioux out only to be evicted themselves by the incoming Europeans. Wayne and his folks believe that their present sanctuary may have been built on or near a former Native American village due to the height of the banks at this part of the Red Cedar and for the ability to see up river and down quite easily. So he initiated a Service of Reconciliation between White, Sioux and Ojibwa. Wayne, speaking for the Europeans, a Sioux man from Pine Ridge in South Dakota and a contingent of Ojibwa from Lac Coutre Oreilles Reservation near Hayward sought and tendered forgiveness with one another and shared communion together. After the service, while preparation for the fellowship dinner was being completed, a great commotion came from outside. Twenty eagles were flying in great concentric circles over the sanctuary – a huge demonstration of God's favor (in any culture!) A good friend of mine who serves at LCO was also there that day and substantiates Wayne's story. Wayne and his wife, Karen, and the folks of Abundant Life, are part of the treasure in Cameron.

Abundant Life's property from Johnson's Landing

Home of good hot beef

 I had lunch at Crossroads Cafe in Cameron and was served by a friendly waitress. After lunch, I stopped in at the adjoining gas station and who should the attendant be but Jill, a woman who when she was much younger had attended the youth group I led in the 90s. Though we are friends on Facebook, we rarely chat there. I spent a few moments reconnecting with her before she got busy with customers. After lunch I drove back out to Johnson's Landing and spent some time in prayer there by the banks of the Red Cedar. The popular worship song from the 90s - “The River is Here” - percolated up from foggy bottom and began to run in my mind. I sang the chorus (all that I remember of it) and for the third time that day prayed that the Spirit of God like a river would flow through Cameron. Once again I found myself wrestling with the contradictory sensory experiences of the stagnant waters of the Flowage and the roaring din of the traffic on Highways 8, 53, and W. A lake crawls through this town but people race through it on their way to other points of interest.

The Flowage as seen from 15th Ave looking north

Looking south

Living Waters Lutheran

 After prayer, I drove back into town but this time I went the long way – north on 19^th Street and then east on 15^th Ave that crosses the north end of the Flowage. I entered Cameron on Clayton Street and drove over to Living Waters Lutheran (Living Waters Lutheran Church.) Two years ago during our sabbatical summer, we had worshiped one Sunday morning with these folks. They were formed sometime in the last five years out some kind of family rift at nearby Faith Lutheran. While I have never worshiped there, on our field trip to Living Waters in 2010 we found them to be very friendly, welcoming people, worshiped to the same songs that we sing at Refuge and enjoyed the pastor's message from Luke 15. This past Friday, I tried their front door and found both Pastor Ted and one of his leaders in the office. They were talking shop about their fellowship's mission trip to Denver that was leaving town the next day. 35 young people and chaperones would be spending a week in the Mile High City's downtown neighborhoods. “One of our specialties is taking kids on affordable mission trips,” Pastor Ted shared with me. During the last two Liberty Fest parades, they have always entered a float full of worshipers who boldly proclaimed Jesus Lord over our area. He and these folks here are also part of the treasure in Cameron.

The former Cameron Prayer Bank

The former Methodist, former Baptist congregation

I wonder the story on this place

After a brief time of prayer with these brothers, I then drove over to Main Street and parked my van across from the VFW hall. I decided to engage in a prayer walk proceeding west on Main as far as 11^th Street and then crossed and walked back on the south side of Main as far as 9^th Street, over to Towering Pines Community Church (Pastor Mike was not in) and then further east on Arlington as far as 4^th Street. While I walked down Arlington, I prayed for the “heroes” of faith that remain in this community, who are persevering, who are staying the course and believing for God's kingdom to come to this city of Comets (Cameron High School's mascot). In ancient times, a comet was a harbinger of doom, a messenger that bad things were heading this way. A week later as I try to collect my thoughts from this day in Cameron, I am brought back to my devotional reading from that morning (Luke 12:49-59). Jesus' words are like a shot across the bow, urging his countrymen to read the signs of the times and believe God's message before it is too late. I prayed in a similar vein for the people of Cameron as I walked down Arlington. I stopped in at Faith Lutheran but the pastor was not in so I headed back to Main Street. I stopped in at the Public Library and who should be working the front desk but Deb, a friend of mine who, along with her husband, used to be a part of Chetek Alliance Church back in the 90s. We visited for awhile. She told me that her ministry is to the kids who frequent this beautiful new facility. There is a sense of God's Spirit on her. She, too, is part of the treasure of Cameron. After praying for her, I stepped outside and headed to my van parked just a block away.

As I did in Prairie Farm, I finished my day of prayer back where I started – at Guy Speirs Park. I grabbed my guitar and walked down to the north shelter and spent some time worshiping there. Songs I sang and prayed there included,

Let the River Flow

Let It Rain

Let Our Praise to You Be as Incense

Lord Most High

Lord, Let Your Glory Fall

Cameron has much to be proud of – their new construction, the growth in their community, this southernly crossroads in our county. But part of her real treasure are the disciples of Jesus who live and worship there, faith communities endeavoring not just to keep the doors open but live out loud and vibrantly in honor of the Name. According to Pages from the Past, there was quite a bit of contention of moving the city from its original location to where it stands now. It may be reading too much into that to connect it to the present state of apparent disconnect between the various faith communities. It probably has more to do with a lack of intentionality on their part. So I pray John 17:21-22 for and over them – Pastor Wayne (Abundant Life), Pastor Mike (Towering Pines), Pastor Ty (St. John), Father Jim (St. Peter), Pastor Ned (Living Water), Pastor Loren (Faith Lutheran), Pastor Gene (Good Samaritan) and Pastor Jim (Highway Gospel) - that they would be “one...that [Cameron] may believe” that Jesus is God's Son sent to redeem them and that God will build his kingdom there.

Prairie Farm Prayer Journey

“In 1847 Captain William Wilson, a partner of Knapp Stout & Co., with two other men came up from Menomonie in canoes. Coming up Hay River they traveled up Vance Creek for a short distance and then went overland northeast and came out on the top of the mill bluff which overlooks what is now Prairie Farm.

Captain Wilson saw the level prairie covered only with scrub oak and hazel brush and he said “the prairie farm,” thinking this would be a good place for the Co. to open up a farm, a supply camp and a saw mill.”

Pages from the Past: An early history of Chetek and surrounding communities by Hazel Calhoun

Last Friday I drove down to Prairie Farm, a small village in the southwest part of our county, and spent a good part of the day there. I went because I felt led, maybe even urged, to pray there. As I have relayed in previous posts, for some time now an item on my “bucket list” has been to run every road in Barron County. Inspired by Genesis 13:17 – where Yahweh instructs Abram to “go, walk through the length and breadth of the land” - I have made it my ambition to go and run every public road in the county that I call home. Admittedly, it's going to take me a long time to complete this project (if ever!) but be that as it may, this past Memorial Day I drove the twenty-three miles to Prairie Farm and ran every street in this village of 508 people. All total it was a 5.8 mile run, a short run as mine go. But while running these same streets I felt compelled to return and pray in this village in whatever way God would lead me to pray there. This past Friday became the day to do this.

On my way out of town, I stopped at Kwik Trip to fuel up. After paying for my gas and walking back to my van, I noticed a friend of mine, who was also gassing up, who was waving me over. She was driving a beautiful Corvette that was old enough to deserve a blue license plate. When I got over to her she asked me a question that turned out to be my prayer point for the day, “Do you have any jumper cables?” I quickly checked the back of my van and reported that unfortunately I didn't. She laughed and told me not to worry about it, that she would find someone to give her a jump. As I drove down Highway I, her question continued to roll around in my mind as well as the image of this beautiful sports car, lovingly maintained, surrounded by enough gasoline to keep it running for thousands of miles but dead, stalled, without spark or fire. Was the Spirit of the Lord saying I was being sent to this village to provide a spark or that I was going to meet someone who needed a “jump” or what?Of course, the Spirit is the electrical charge but he needs a conduit to run through so I chose to pray in my prayer language all the way from just outside of Chetek through Dallas and finally to the village limits of Prairie Farm as a way of getting my cables ready, as it were.

Nice wheels but  doesn't move

A very nice park

My first stop was Pioneer Park on the west side of what is referred to as the Prairie Farm flowage, a large recreational area created by the damming of the Hay River here. I had never been to this park before and immediately I was impressed with how clean and well maintained it is. There is a tennis/basket ball court, beautiful playground area, volleyball, swimming as well as an area where they must have tractor or horse pulls (complete with full bleachers). The park has been lovingly decorated with a plethora of wood carvings (a lion, a giraffe, a panther and a lot of bears) made, I presume, by chain saws by local carvers called the Bear Guys (and thus why so many bears). There were only a few campers (and none of them out) and a couple of kids hanging out under one of the picnic shelters. I had brought along my GPS unit and geocacher that I am, decided that the first order of business was to find the cache hid at the park. It gave me a legitimate excuse to explore, which was, in part, what this day was about.

This was one of my favorite carvings

This town has a lot of Panther Pride

The Hay River Dam

I walked the asphalt path to the dam and was impressed with the high bluff to my immediate right. It was beautiful. Near the dam I discovered a path that zig-zagged its way up to the top of the bluff (perhaps the same bluff that Capt Wilson and his small band of discovery stood upon when they first looked upon Prairie Farm?) and following the needle I walked to the north side that looked down upon the camp. It took me awhile to find GZ (probably because of the immense shade) but the clue was enough to help me find the hide if only by process of elimination. By the time I made my way back to the dam, the kids had left so I walked back to my van, grabbed my satchel carrying my Bible and journal and found an isolated picnic table to wait on the Lord.

Perhaps the same bluff that Capt. Wilson once stood upon?

While I journaled, a maintenance man busied himself cutting and trimming the grass and cleaning the bathrooms. This may be a small town park but it is clear that Prairie Farm takes pride in it for it is lovingly maintained. Because it it is named Pioneer Park I simply turned to Hebrews 11:1 and read out loud the entire “faith” chapter as well as the first three verses of chapter 12. This became my second prayer point of the day – praying for “the pioneers”, those still faithful servants of God who live within the village who continue to “live by faith” (v. 13) regardless of the fruit they may be seeing. They are stalwart in believing the promises of God. They are “longing for a better country – a heavenly one” (v. 16)

All these years later...

Each one of these people of faith died not yet having in hand what was promised, but still believing. How did they do it? They saw it way off in the distance, waved their greeting, and accepted the fact that they were transients in this world. People who live this way make it plain that they are looking for their true home. If they were homesick for the old country, they could have gone back any time they wanted. But they were after a far better country than that—heaven country. You can see why God is so proud of them, and has a City waiting for them. (The Message, 11:13-16)

Then I returned to my original prayer-point – those in need of a spiritual “jump” (by the way, when I arrived at Pioneer Park I looked in the back of my van once again and found my cables buried under a lot of junk) – and prayed that any of the “faith-pioneers” in this village who were discouraged or whose faith was flagging that God would give them the spark they needed to continue to live by faith. That they would hear the roar of the great crowd of heaven cheering them on to finish the course they had committed themselves to (Heb 12:1-3).

At one time it held carillon bells

Later I decided to drive over to United Lutheran Church (ULC) and see if the pastor was about. Unless there is a small fellowship of people meeting in someone's home, ULC is the only game in town when it comes to a faith community. It is located on River Street and according to their web site was officially named “United” in 1947 when First Lutheran and Solum Lutheran churches consolidated (although there has been a Lutheran presence in Prairie Farm since the 1870s). No one was around so I sat on the bench at the GAR Memorial right next door and spent some time listening and silently praying there. Like the park, ULC is clearly lovingly maintained. It is a beautiful facility and the manner in which its yard, flower beds and grounds are kept up reveal the pride they must take in what God has given them. The fact that the bell from the original building that was destroyed in a fire on Easter Sunday 1964 has a special place on the lawn near their brand new lighted sign speak to me of a faith community that embraces its history, even celebrates it, but at the same time is looking ahead to the future generations of believers who will be discipled within. So, I sat on that bench and prayed for ULC, for the pastor and her family that whatever was stalled, whatever and whoever needed a spiritual jump would be open to the Holy Spirit's empowering work.

As I sat on that bench and looked south down River Street I was struck by the fact that while Prairie Farm is an old town – in fact, it was the very first settlement in Barron County back in 1848 – the trustees of the town, the people of the community, the members of ULC, take pride in their village. Prairie Farm does not have the feel of a small town which reached its nadir “back in the day” but a quiet yet inviting community holding promise to those who choose to make it their home. They have a well maintained nursing home and a beautiful K-12 school and adjoining athletic fields. “Panther Pride” (Prairie Farm HS's mascot is the panther) clearly runs deep here.

While sitting and enjoying the breeze and the view, an elderly woman pulled into ULC's driveway and parked outside the front door. I walked over to her and asked where I might find the pastor. She was very friendly and quickly gave me directions to the parsonage. (I wanted to look inside but not wanting her to be afraid, I didn't ask her.) I drove down River Street in search of the parsonage and when I found it, I couldn't tell if anyone was home so I decided to go in search of another geocache placed near town located out on South Road. It was right near the bridge over the Hay River and though I looked high and low for it, I came up empty (ditto for the one hid over on Brewster Street as well that I had looked for before stopping at ULC). Since it was near lunchtime, I decided to head to the only eatery in town – The Packer Inn.

Good burgers served here

The place was near empty except for a guy at the other end of the bar who was busily working on his cheeseburger and checking his smart phone. The TV in the bar was turned to some country western station and the bartender (who I found out shortly was also the owner) was busy in the kitchen. She quietly came out, took my order (I told her I wanted what that guy was eating) and then she returned to the kitchen. The man didn't seem like he was in a talkative mood (and, as I gleaned from his parting conversation with the bartender, not a local) so I left him to his phone and watched the program on television. Admittedly, country music is not my style but my guess is a lot of the folks around here enjoy it enough. I will say that the cheeseburger that the young woman served up to me was by far the best burger I've had in quite a long time. It was no frozen patty microwaved and served on a stale bun but had that fresh-from-the-grill-to-my-plate taste. Yet another pleasant discovery that I made in Prairie Farm that day.

After lunch I decided to stop in at the parsonage, car or no car in the driveway, and see if anyone was about. The pastor was out but her husband was home and very shortly, Burt Schultz, had invited me to share with him what had brought me to their village. Burt, who is also a Lutheran pastor, serving congregations in Glen Flora and Ladysmith, was very open and welcoming. When I tried to console him for being willing to serve in a little knock about place like Glen Flora he was quick to point out that at their recent VBS, over 100 kids had participated. That is very impressive and I felt the Lord gently rebuke me and remind me what Francis Schaeffer had once said, “There are no small places.” Our visit was all of 15-20 minutes and consisted of getting acquainted, sharing about each other's ministries and a few items he suggested I might want to pray for. Other than that very welcoming senior citizen outside of ULC (Nellie is her name I learned later), Burt was the first person from Prairie Farm I had met that day and before I left his home we prayed together.

After I left the Schultz's, I decided to drive over to Sprague Street and do some prayer walking. Thanks to Hazel Calhoun's Pages from the Past: An early history of Chetek and surrounding communities (a copy of which sits near my journal in my office), I learned that Sprague Street is named after Ike Sprague, a guy who came to Prairie Farm in 1862 when he was only 20 years old. In time, he became the foreman of Knapp Stout & Co's operations in Prairie Farm. He later became the Postmaster as well. According to Hazel (who quotes The History of Barron Coutny published in 1922):

He [Ike] took a prominent part in the incorporation of the village and served as president of its first board of trustees. 

Looking down Ike's Street

I felt led to walk his street and as soon as I began to walk the worship song “Indescribable” began to run in my head. As I walked I more hummed it than sang it as I couldn't recall all the words. I walked as far as Allan, walked a block east and then walked south again on Bluff all the while praying in the spirit or quietly singing this song. There were a gaggle of people at one home laughing and chatting away at the end of their driveway but they didn't acknowledge me so I just kept on walking. For the third time that day, however, I was struck by the sense of self-respect that was evident in the citizens of this village for so many of the homes I passed were lovingly maintained.

When I returned to the van, I decided to drive back out to Pioneer Park. When I got there, I grabbed my satchel as well as my guitar and sat under the picnic shelter closest to the river and began to worship the Lord there. “Let the River Flow”, “Shine, Jesus, Shine”, “Shout to the Lord”, “Your Love Oh Lord”, “Indescribable” and “How Great Is Our God” was my selection. The words of the songs became my intercession for Prairie Farm

Worship by the river

“Let the river flow,

Let river flow,

Holy Spirit, come

Move with power.

Let the river flow,

Let the river flow,

Holy Spirit, come

Move with power...”

(from “Let the River Flow” by Darnell Harris)

And so, right there near the shore of the Hay River, I prayed for an increase of the flow of the Holy Spirit in this community. This old, beautifully maintained village, the very first to be established in Barron County, needs a jump. There's nothing wrong with the engine. Nothing wrong with the transmission that a little spark can't cure. So I prayed for fresh fire, fresh juice from above.

Before I left town, I decided to make one more attempt at finding the caches hid on Brewster and South. And in short order I did. The thing is both caches had been staring me in the face and I had overlooked them on my previous attempts, thinking to find something different. But the Lord reminded me that appearances can be deceiving – and so can judgments. It's easy for others to discredit the great work of God that may be going on in a small community simply because it's small (like me discrediting God's work in Glen Flora – echoes of Nathaniel's scoffing “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” - not realizing that there is a vibrant faith community there who has a heart to influence children and are doing that capitally.) And its all relative. The guy serving in Eau Claire, perhaps, can make an assumption that nothing really can be going on in a small town like Chetek just like I may be guilty of making the same assessment of what may be going on in a place the size of Prairie Farm. But there are interesting discoveries to be made if only we have eyes to see them. Which is the invitation the Holy Spirit extends to us, “Come and see” (John 1:47).