Thirty-three years ago we moved from Athens to Roanoke, VA, at the southern end of the Shenandoah Valley. On our honeymoon in 1962 we’d driven through there, even driving into town and stopping in to look at the beautiful St. Andrew’s Catholic Church, which was visible from the outskirts of town, sitting on a hill right in the middle of town. Little did I know that years later we’d live there and that I’d conduct a big musical production inside that big church!

After seven years as associate pastor in Athens I wanted to move on and have my own congregation. Roanoke was about 425 miles from Athens but seemed more like 4,250! We thought it was the South but once there it seemed to us more like the far North ... Covenant was in a suburb and was wonderful in many ways, but we had no idea what we were facing there. The church had been founded in 1957, and most of its charter members were General Electric engineers who’d moved there from Schenectady to open a big plant. They built a very substantial but purely utilitarian building which was much lacking in aesthetic appeal, but it was in an ideal location on the west side of town. A pasture was next to the parking lot, so cows could be heard all day.

In many ways it was the best-organized church I ever had; the previous minister had been an excellent administrator. Its financial health was the best I’ve ever seen in a church – every month we got about 1/12th of the budget requirements. There were a few professional people and a few business owners; most members were salaried folks who knew how much their monthly income would be and pledged accordingly (many tithed). They had had no pastor for more than a year, so we were welcomed with open arms.

I had been told a little bit of the previous few years’ history, so we knew that the minister had been involved with the charismatic movement (a Pentecostal-like movement quite prevalent in mainline churches in the 1970’s) and had taken a dozen significant families with him. There was much talk of speaking in tongues and faith healing and other “gifts of the Spirit.” The many oldline Presbyterians there didn’t know how to deal with this, so they’d been floundering for more than a year. So I arrived, fresh from my University church years and the intellectual environment I’d relished there. Loving to teach as I do, and being committed to the Presbyterian view that “theology is faith seeking understanding,” I began to work on returning the congregation to the middle of the Protestant road where most Presbyterians travel. Almost from the first I met opposition which I didn’t know how to handle; I was still rather young so I took it all personally. We got anonymous notes from those “praying for us” and “praying we’d see the light.” I persevered, however, and 3 1/2 years later when I left I’d managed to steer the church back into the mainstream, though I bore in my soul the spiritual scars of having been in a battle I’d just as soon have not fought.

The many folks who supported us were like no friends we’d ever had before; they stood with us and encouraged us to keep on. We became “family” to many of them and them to us, but now most of them are gone. Last year’s 50th anniversary celebration was a wonderful reunion, and many people spoke to us with gratitude for having helped keep their church in the Presbyterian fold. The names Carson, Weisel, Kidwell, Brown, Hart, Evans, Sease and Eels will always evoke warm memories for us.

Leaving there in 1978 to come back to Georgia was with mixed feelings, but we knew we’d left a stronger church that since has thrived. Living in one of the most beautiful areas of the United States was a delight (the Blue Ridge Parkway we could see from our backyard); the Fall was glorious, far more beautiful than anything we’d ever seen in the deep South; the winters were much colder than we’d ever known (in January, 1977, the temperature never rose above freezing and there were a dozen or more nights below zero, all that along with about 8” of snow which I didn’t know to clear off the first day!). In addition to being the pastor I got to be the conductor of the Roanoke Valley Chorus, a volunteer choral group that did superb work, and which I hated to leave.

One other Roanoke event is highly significant: years before the church had purchased an old, used pipe organ. For more than ten years two men had worked to restore that organ, devoting every Saturday to that giant, highlyskilled chore. They finished their work in 1977, and it was providential that I was their minister at that time, for I was in a unique position to help the congregation and community understand the significance of their gift. We had a grand celebration/dedication in September that year.

But early in 1978 I began to have “Georgia on my mind..."

So I accepted the call to come to Eastminster Church in Stone Mountain as their associate minister and musician. Almost from the first month I’d lived in Roanoke I’d gotten calls from Bob Ashworth (their minister then, later our own Parish Associate here) wanting me to consider coming there. Much of my childhood had been spent in DeKalb County, but I knew nothing about the area near Stone Mountain known as Smoke Rise, which was a wonderful new development right in the shadow of the big rock itself. Bob had been the organizing minister in 1968 but needed pastoral help. (Bob was a wonderful minister to work with, and we became a successful team.) I arrived there to a booming situation with a new, contemporary sanctuary. Every Sunday there were many people in Sunday School and worship. We had large youth and children’s participation. There were numerous energetic young couples, but not many older or middle-aged folks. We received new members nearly every Sunday.

At Eastminster I was able to work on my Doctor of Ministry degree at Columbia Seminary (as Rix is doing here), which I received in 1985, all gratis because of the generosity of a church member there. There also began my eye problems which resulted in my having retinal detachments in both eyes and 10 different eye operations in 1983 and 1986. At Eastminster I keep my finger in all sorts of musical pies and regularly gave recitals and accompanied musical groups of all kinds. The Atlanta area provided many such opportunities which I’ll take advantage of in retirement. As in Roanoke, a new organ is part of my story, for at Eastminster we got a wonderful new Zimmer organ which I helped design, after which I played the dedicatory recital (in the middle of my big eye surgeries at Duke!).

Our children went to Middle School and High School and then to Presbyterian College while we lived in Lilburn, only a few miles from Eastminster. During those years we were able to help Peggy’s parents during their illnesses and deaths; my parents weren’t too far away and we were with them much oftener than we’d been since leaving home years before.

The names Bussey, Jennings, Demarest, Stamper, Thomson, Patterson, Bath, Roberts, Brandon, Phillips and many others will always ring a glad spot in our hearts as we remember our nearly ten years there. But then it happened as it frequently does – a new minister came and I didn’t fit into his vision of the church’s future, and it was best for me to go.

And guess where I got to go from Stone Mountain . . . but that’s saving the best for last, and that’s for next month!

Your pastor,