Books published by Parson's Porch

An Easter story for Children describing what happen in Joseph of Arimathea's Cave in his back yard. It is simply written by Juanita Ellis and illustrated by Sharon B. Parker.It is published by dtbookcompany under its imprint, LSKidStuff.

I have appreciated reading these suggestive sermons. They are fresh and interesting, connected to both scripture and real life in imaginative ways. McLean invites one out of the box, always a good idea with the gospel.Walter Brueggemann__________________This collection of sermons reflects both my sense of call and the diverse ways I have felt called to fulfill it. Some of the sermons were from a summer series I did called "Faith in the Real World" which was built upon questions submitted by the congregation. They asked, and I tried to answer. But otherwise the sermons are unrelated one to another, inspired by the Lectionary, the newspaper, and the Spirit. They are a cross-section of my attempts to make the Gospel relevant and accessible.

Truth be told, I don't really know why I'm a pastor. Let's face it, on paper, I wouldn't consider myself the ideal candidate. I don't exactly crave the spotlight. I'm definitely not an extrovert. Any ability I have to initiate conversation has been carefully and awkwardly cultivated over the last so many years through a process of trial and error. As it happens, I maxed out the "Thinking" scale of my Myers-Briggs personality inventory, so I admit how certain feelings and attitudes can sometimes escape my notice. I'm not the most spiritual person in the world. I'm not part of some multigenerational family legacy. (I think I may have had a great-great-grandfather who was a pastor, but I'm sure he was Baptist!) I'm not particularly well-connected within the Presbyterian Church (USA), nor do I serve a large, influential congregation. Although I find polity fascinating, I have little threshold for church politics. Why someone like myself would publicly and professionally invite the scrutiny of others, I have no earthly idea.When I think about it, I really have only two things going for me. First, I look the part: Tall, lanky, cleans up moderately well, looks good in black-it turns out, that can get you far in this business! The second is this annoying sense of call. It sounds almost crazy to say, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, I believe the words that are coming out of my mouth each Sunday morning-words of grace, words of justice, words of encouragement, words of redemption and hope. Words are important to me, and I figure, if I don't at least believe them, I can't really expect anyone else to, either. Maybe the "why" will continue to prove elusive, but at the end of the day, a pastor is what…or perhaps more accurately…who I am. And in a strange kind of way, the fact that I can't rationally explain it only confirms why it had to be me, and not someone else who might fare better by the numbers.

A children's story about a rabbit named Wilma with a brood of bunnies. Wilma and the bunnies celebrate springtime and resurrection. The book is written by Juanita G. Ellis and illustrusted by Sharon B. Parker. It is many of its kind at www.lskidstuff.com

This is a story of people acting in faith. At the time this story began, First Presbyterian Church, like most religious congregations in America, was struggling with identity, seeking to make a difference in the world. There were no plans or definitions at the US State Department, in Sudan, in the Presbyterian Church USA as a denomination, or in Skaneateles, NY for what needed to be done in South Sudan by whom, how, at what cost. All that was known, was that there were open questions. Except for a dozen years, civil war had been perpetuated from 1956 until 2016, in an extremely poverty-stricken, remote and undeveloped corner of the Sub-Saharan part of the South Sudan portion of East Africa between the two Nile Rivers. Not only was the population impoverished, and at risk due to isolation's lack of inoculations, they had no infrastructure for getting supplies, no roads to get there, there was not yet any legitimate government recognized with which to gain access to information or permission. Environmental conditions limited any access to six months each year; all knowledge of locations, resources, conditions and people, were anecdotal from child refugees who had escaped these circumstances in a time of trauma. The leadership of First Presbyterian Church had no agenda for involvement in this mission. We were asked to provide resources for sponsorship of refugees for a limited time, but that relationship of trust has become a partnership, a faith Calling.

"This has not by any means been an ideal church, the perfect church is in heaven. Another history may have been written, whose tone would be adversely critical, in which the facts stated would be justifiably censurable because of folly or maliciousness. But every historian or biographer omits more than (s)he records, and wisely. Among the early settlers were men of military title, and they carried their belligerent propensities into church matters as well. Considering the number of such experiences, it is a wonder that the church ever survived. Bitter feelings engendered, and autocratic inquisitorial exercise of power, resulted in several divisions within this body. It is no small thing, to have been an organization, in which a thousand souls (or 3,000) have confessed their faith in Jesus Christ, and acknowledged his mastery, while half as many more having come from other churches have cast their lot in and found a religious home. We believe in God; we believe in his purpose for us in the future, and therefore we have abundant courage. We begin the second Century (now our third) under auspicious skies. Undoubtedly there will be dark periods; there have been many in the century(ies) past; hardships and sacrifices, doubtless will be required - they have been before - but with a mighty God, with faithful, loyal members, with a universal gospel invitation to proclaim, with daily grace from the God of all graces, and the covenant that as our days our strength shall be, we resolutely face the future, actuated by Christian faith, hope and courage." As described by Reinhold Niebuhr, the Church is continually struggling with its identity as part of, and yet apart from the Culture, recognizing that we have the same citizens, and are effected by the same influences. There have been times, when mores in the society and within the church were challenged. There have been eras when the church reacted defensively, avoiding and postponing major repairs as too costly, rather than boldly acting upon dreams. There have also been times when the church led the culture by taking risks others would not consider possible, and attempting to redeem persons who were lost. May future historians treat us with grace and kindness as the church continues to act in mission and service. The Rev. Dr. Craig Lindsey is Pastor of The First Presbyterian Church of Skaneateles, New York, USA. A graduate of the College of Wooster, Ohio in Urban Planning and Community Development; Union Theological Seminary in the City of New York, NY; and Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, Georgia with his Doctor of Ministry in The Gospel in A Postmodern Culture, his thesis work on Essentials Necessary for Congregational Redevelopment: Restoring Salt's Savor. Rev. Lindsey is a member of the Sudan Mission network of the Presbyterian Church USA. He is also one of the Founding members of the Board of Directors and Secretary of the John Dau Foundation. Rev. Lindsey is married to Judy, and they are the parents of C. Michael who lives and works in Brooklyn, NY; and Nathan who is completing his PhD at UC Berkeley CA in the field of Magneto-tellurics.

Reflections for Those Walking the Lonely Path of Pain

Life has exhilarating moments when the spirit soars and the heart sings out of pure, unrestrained joy. A person experiences such elation, peace, and satisfaction that music¿or at least some semblance of melody¿seems to be the only appropriate response. So, in monotone, on perfect pitch, or somewhere in between, the soul sings its happy expressions of praise, gratitude, and sheer celebration of life that, for the moment, is good. Often, spontaneous songs that well up from life's depths are addressed to God in answer to His grace and goodness. Conversely, life also has dark moments when the heart cannot sing. The spirit can produce no melody; and the words of song cannot get around, over, or under a large lump in the throat. Life inspires no rhymes. A long night of the soul settles in and presses down on life with its inky, suffocating darkness. In a blackness almost physical in denseness, no song comes to lips drawn tight by anxiety's strain and by tension's taut pull. An individual has come to the point where God gives no song in the night; in fact, God seems to be absent or, at best, the great, silent Spectator. As I write, scattered across my denomination's landscape are pastors in various stages of pilgrimages of pain. They struggle through a seemingly endless night with no song to sing. They comprise a society of sufferers, bound together in a brotherhood by the burden they bear. These pastors are facing increasing pressure to resign immediately or by a set date, regardless of whether they have a place to go. Some have been told they are being terminated. Their churches¿or groups of leaders who hold the power¿have decided and decreed that the pastors' tenures have come to a screeching halt. Often, the verdicts are delivered in the name of the Lord, piously phrased in self-assured religious dialect. The pastoral victims' names are legion. Many laypeople would be shocked to know the number of pastors who face termination each week across the Southern Baptist Convention. People genuinely concerned about ministerial leaders would be dismayed at some churches' treatment of pastors. How many pastors per day fall in the religious arena? People in the pews would be surprised. According to statistics supplied by the Church Administration Department of the (then) Baptist Sunday School Board, a survey revealed that in 1984, 1,056 pastors had been terminated, a rate of 88 each month. In 1988, a similar survey showed that 1,392 pastors annually were terminated, about 116 pastors each month¿ almost four pastors a day and an increase of 28 per month from the 1984 survey. Again, according to compiled statistics, in 54 percent of the cases involving serious church conflicts, the pastor left or had to leave. In 1999, 72,000 pastors and clergy were fired across America for various reasons. In some cases, the pastors were partially at fault; but in others, they were not at fault. Yet they and their families were pinked-slipped and shown the door.

As I reflected over my life, I can truly say that I've been blessed to have had a great, amazing, loving, funny, hardworking, great provider and faithful daddy and father, Steger John Mastin Jr.! My daddy loved me unconditional! I was his little girl. He treated me like a princess nothing was too good for me or too much for me; whenever I wanted something my daddy always provided the things I needed and wanted. And I wasn't a spoil brat. He loved his family so much and he showed his love daily to us. Fond memories flood my soul! He was my protector! My encourager! My supporter! My hero!!!! My daddy was my everything!!!!! As I write this, I can't help but cry because I miss him dearly! I looked like my father! I honored my daddy! I respected my daddy! Daily, I showed my daddy how much I loved him and appreciated him! I was proud to let people know he was my father! He was a well-dressed man! He was overwhelming handsome! He was tall and very distinguished gentleman! He was very mannerable, helpful, giving, caring, supportive, kind, and he stood for a needy cause, and he was a tall and distinguished gentleman! He didn't entertain negative people; he stay focused on his passions and accomplished everything he set out to do! I have a lot of his special characteristics in me.

Comical scenes of Deacons in Southern Baptist Churches.For over four decades Joe McKeever has been writing for Christian publications. A Southern Baptist pastor of six churches for 42 years, Joe then served 5 years as director of missions for the SBC churches of Metro New Orleans. These days, in his "retirement" ministry, he stays on the go preaching for churches and conferences, leading deacons and prayer retreats, and such. Joe is the father of three adult children and grandfather of eight. He lives in Metro New Orleans.

Holy Women Icons began as a painting project, giving traditional iconography a folk feminist twist. Across the vast pantheon of a virtually all-male sainthood, I noticed something was missing: women. Where were all the holy women across spiritual traditions?I've painted over 50 Holy Women Icons and recount their stories in my 2014 book, Holy Women Icons.Now is your chance to join me in the creative process. Color your way toward holiness! As you color, allow each dot to be a meditation, prayer, or mantra. Perhaps you may choose a virtue-such as peace or love-to focus on with each coloring page, or perhaps you could allow the woman you are coloring to inspire a virtue within you. However you choose to color, may your creative time with this contemplative coloring book enliven, inspire, embolden, sooth, and calm you.A brief description of each holy woman, along with a small image of her painting, is found at the back of the coloring book for you to use as a reference if you wish.May these holy women inspire and empower you.May coloring their images embolden you.May you discover something new about spirituality, history, and yourself.

In April 2015, the long-smoldering embers of racial tension in Baltimore City erupted into flames and riots at a level unseen in 50 years. The riots were sparked by the death of Freddie Gray, a 25-year-old man who was arrested by the Baltimore Police Department for possessing what the police alleged was an illegal switchblade. While being transported in a police van, Gray was injured, fell into a coma, and was taken to a trauma center where he later died.The riots served as a long-needed wake-up call for a community that had ignored for decades the systematic racism that thwarted and neglected the needs and aspirations of its African American brothers and sisters.Within days of the riots, the Presbytery of Baltimore began mobilizing to be used by God to help foster healing and real change in the city. While many of our teaching and ruling elders were involved in various organizations and activities to combat racism, poverty and class discrimination, the Presbytery had not acted in a unified manner to address these issues.Led by an ad hoc committee of teaching and ruling elders, the Presbytery issued a call for the issues of race, class and poverty to be addressed in church services, Christian education classes and in sermons. The Presbytery voted to focus its meetings for an entire year on these three issues.As a Presbytery, we recognize that we, too, have failed to live up to Christ's command to love our neighbors as ourselves (Mark 12:33). We have come a long way toward putting these issues at the center of our mission, but we know we still have many miles to go.This collection of sermons, prayers and liturgies by members of our Presbytery is just a sample of the work we are doing. We hope they will inspire the readers to examine these issues and join us in a prophetic witness as we journey with hope toward wholeness and toward fulfilling God's command to "let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream" (Amos 5:24).

This book is a very personal account of a 17 year grace-filled journey that details Tracy's individual introductions to each person of the Trinity. Her walk began by learning to see God as a loving father, then meeting Holy Spirit and years later, experiencing a revelatory encounter that forever changed and galvanized her relationship with the Son.Her journey toward Jesus has been punctuated with significant life events and change; marital separation, then divorce from an addicted spouse, a career move from successful business owner to ministry staffer, and a transition from a large, metropolitan Southern city to a tornado torn Alabama college town.Tracy's desire is to show how a gracious and loving Father led through a series of wide open doors and supernatural seasons in which she badly needed things to happen that only He could do. Following several seasons of traumatic trial and testing, she was placed by Him on a path to healing, hope and restoration. He did it for her and He will do it for you. You can be free of fear; learning to lean with confidence on your best friend and own internal Transformational Leader, God's Holy Spirit.

After a long span of time, I still remember the gist of the story. I read it in the Sunday School quarterly my church provided for boys in my age group. In the story, a young boy came downstairs dressed to go to church services with other family members. This Sunday, however, he was not wearing his usual dress clothes. Instead, he had on casual or everyday clothes, which in my boyhood would have been overalls or blue jeans, a shirt he wore for work or play, and everyday shoes-clod-hoppers, as we called them. His father objected to the boy's attire and told him to go back to his room and put on his Sunday best. The boy explained his reason for what he had chosen to wear. He had invited a friend to attend church with him, but the friend's family was poor and the friend had no Sunday clothes to wear to church. He would feel out of place and ashamed to go to church in the clothes he had. The boy told his father that to put his friend at ease, he would dress as the friend did and accompany him to Sunday School and worship. All these years, I have remembered the lessons of that story, even if I often have failed to practice them: True friendship involves caring, sensitivity, and a willingness to put another's feelings first; concern for another person's spiritual welfare will accommodate itself to that person's needs. A simple story made a lasting impression on me.Most of us can recall stories that remain meaningful to us, for almost everyone likes a good story. Somewhere, individuals may exist who do not have time for or appreciate stories no matter how gripping, moving, entertaining, or educational they may be. My guess is that such people are few. From childhood, most of us have been drawn to stories, written and oral. Today, we appreciate good stories skilled storytellers tell or write. Good storytellers can make mediocre stories come alive; inept storytellers can butcher excellent stories. Talented storytellers can enable us to experience dramatic stories that are memorable, enriching, and enduring.

When I was five years old, my mother sat me down at the kitchen table with my little sister Carolyn, gave us pencil and paper, and said, "Now draw!" She was not attempting to teach us anything, but merely trying to get us out of the way while she did her housework. And, that's how I discovered that I love to draw. The next year, when I started to the first grade at Nauvoo (AL) Elementary School, the other children would gather around and watch me draw. To this day, I can outdraw any group of first-graders you will ever meet. For over forty years, while pastoring churches and living the life of a Baptist minister, I've drawn cartoons for religious publications, mostly within our Southern Baptist Convention. These days, and for the past decade or more, the Baptist Press website posts one of our drawings each weekday. (See them at www.bpnews.net/cartoons) Most of these cartoons have been featured on that website and in various publications. I am pleased we can present this collection of 101 of the most recent drawings. We send them forth with the prayer they will bring a smile to your heart and a lift to your spirit.

This is what you do: put somebody in a 40 ft-long, 33,000 lb steel box for several hours a day. Then, add your choice of a few dozen kids hyped up on candy after a party, a few drunken sorority girls, crying toddlers, fog, darkness, and swarming ants attracted to a forbidden pop-tart. Do this and what you will have either a recipe for disaster, or an average day on a school bus (except for the drunken sorority girls - that was not normal!). Now, to the best of my recollection, I've met only one adult who said, "I always wanted to be a school bus driver." Most, like me, wound up taking the job out of desperation, because our spouses told us to, or because we were attracted to the crazy hours and summers off without pay. I'm convinced only a select few wake up one morning and exclaim, "Hey! I want to drive a bus! It'll be fun!" No, in my opinion, a sovereign God sets in motion a variety of calamitous circumstances to place drivers behind the wheels of school buses in order to teach us about life. The rest become transportation managers and dispatchers. Therefore, after nearly fifteen years behind the wheel, I've compiled a collection of mostly-true anecdotes, a few serious observations, and a wealth of wisdom you'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere else, unless you've driven a school bus. However, don't feel you have to drive a bus, or even have a driver's license, to enjoy this book. Even if you've been banned from the road, the following stories will give you a license to laugh.