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Sighing deeply, he apologized for being so distant. Then he continued, "I have been much burdened for the dear people in our congregation. There is so much wrangling and discontent. They complain that the music isn't to their taste and that the sermons are too long--or not long enough. Mr. Wright can't stand the way Mr. Rong does things, and Mrs. Humdinger can't understand why the organist plays so loudly. Mr. Moaner tells me I should be preaching on the topic of hell more often, and Miss Sobersides constantly reminds me that Miss Loose should be spoken to about the way she dresses. Some say we don't have enough socials; others complain we have too many. There seems to be so much mistrust and discontent. Just the other day, Mr. Leavit called to say that they will be attending church elsewhere because their needs aren't being met. But when I asked him what needs those were, he wouldn't say--just that, whatever they were, they weren't being met in our church.
"I am beginning to doubt that our good people really listen when I preach. But more than that, I am afraid that the term 'worship service' needs to be taken out of our church's vocabulary. It seems they use so much time on Sunday morning thinking about how things should be changed and looking at the faults of those around them, they forget they are there to worship God. They can't do both. They seem so wrapped up in themselves and their own wants when they come to the house of the Lord that they cannot properly worship. I have been asking God to show me some way of helping them, but so far nothing has come to mind. They don't seem to see that the problem is not in how things are done, but in their own hearts."
Husband and wife prayed together and went to bed. The pastor was restless, but finally fell asleep as he prayed for his flock. Unaccountably, he found himself standing in line at the airport check-in. As each person approached the ticket counter, he heard the attendant say, "Check your baggage, please. No luggage allowed on board. You will enjoy your journey much more if you are not carrying all that baggage." This was repeated as each person approached, and when it was his turn, he, too, was told, "Check your luggage, please. No suitcases allowed on board. You will enjoy your journey much more if you are not carrying all that baggage."
In the morning, the pastor awoke feeling refreshed. Over breakfast, he chuckled as he remembered his dream. Kissing his wife goodbye, he set off for his church office. As his wife watched him drive off, she noticed a large wooden box sticking out of the trunk. "What in the world . . . ?" she puzzled.
The following Sunday she had her answer. As she entered the foyer, a group of people stood looking at something by the sanctuary door. Some were chuckling, others looked perplexed, and still others looked disapproving. Moving nearer, she saw the source of interest. There sat "the box". On it was a sign in bold letters: "NO BAGGAGE BEYOND THIS POINT. YOU WILL ENJOY YOUR TIME MUCH MORE IF YOU CHECK YOUR BAGGAGE HERE." In smaller print at the bottom, the sign said, "If you wish, you may reclaim your items as you leave." Inside the large box were several smaller packages, each bearing boldly printed labels. One said "Bitterness", another "Criticism". Others were designated "Self", "Complaints", "Unforgiveness" and "Pride".
The box remained for several weeks, then was laid to rest in a corner of the janitor's closet. It would be good to be able to report that the entire congregation of the good pastor's church took the object lesson to heart and changed. Some did. Many did not. When the box was stored away, it contained more wrapped packages than it had originally. It seems that some of the good people of the church took the box seriously, tossed in their personal hindrances and never reclaimed them. Those who decided to "check their baggage" definitely did find their journey much more enjoyable.
Beatrice Klassen is a freelance writer from Niagara Falls, Ont.
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