As I see and hear the constant replay on Fox news, the idiots and manipulated hordes of at first just hooligans, now galvanized by misguided ideology violence; of course, the ever-present evil or duped corporate and other fat cat financiers, that want to rule the world by being the last one standing in the destruction of a godless as well as a timid God worshiping society to faithless to stand up for what is right—preferring to go along with mass manipulation like marionettes dancing by the strings of the more powerful.
When I see the destruction of monuments by lackeys of the manipulators where the lackeys don’t have a clue as to any of the totality of the history that these monuments and statues represent. I shudder as to what is next. The manipulated lackeys would not be nearly as compliant if, in their small brains, they studied history both the good and the bad that makes these things so important. These monuments should not be worshiped as idols nor despised as archetypes of evil, just as milestones of our journey through history. Our society is going headlong into a future, not unlike the vision of the1960’s futuristic film by the genius but slightly warped Stanly Kubrick Clockwork Orange (not a film for the faint-hearted. As an aside this film was rated “X” went it first debuted but now only carries an “R” rating a testament as our march toward acceptable depravity).
I had an idea in mind about 12 years ago when we built a new sanctuary at the church, our family, and a hand full of brave believing souls started in 1963. The congregation first started as a home church then purchased a 3.5-acre piece on the corner of Lake Washington and Croton Roads in Melbourne, Florida. My dad was instrumental in purchasing the property. He had skirmished with the small congregation about buying a piece “out in the middle of nowhere.” Once again, he faced the ridicule and short-sightedness of others, like when he moved his family from Wisconsin to sell sand in Florida. The church as it grew moved from a house to meeting in a nearby fire station. Every Sunday, sometimes we had to wait for the firemen to move the trucks out of the garage so we could set up a makeshift worship place, pull the tarp off of an old piano in the corner behind the fire hoses and have church.
Then the folks raised enough money to buy a build it yourself boxed wood building that the congregation put up themselves, not unlike an old Midwest barn rising with a “picnic on the grounds celebration” and began meeting. The bureaucracy was virtually nonexistent back then, and churches were given some slack.
During the ’70s and ’80s, the congregation grew, but was always under 100 members, and built a more permanent building and turned the old “barn” into classrooms. The old “barn” showed its age, and space was made for Sunday School in the “new” building. Time went along, and with good leadership, we outgrew that building and upgraded the grounds and parking and constructed the sanctuary that sits there today. Sorry to put my readers through this rather tedious history, but I’m getting to the point here soon, I promise.
Shortly after we moved into the new sanctuary, I could see that we were on a now valuable corner in a very developed Melbourne. As I looked at the community and commercializing of the intersections, I feared that future generations would raise this church and sell it off to be the next Walgreens or such. I had a plan. I convinced the congregation to raise a few more Shekels to match me dollar for dollar to construct a commemorative cross between the two buildings, the old as a fellowship hall, and the new a sanctuary. My plan, that was like my dad’s, was somewhat scoffed at was to build a 2’x 2′ roughly 30′ tall solid concrete cross with an 8′ square solid concrete foundation. The cross was formed and poured in the parking lot and hoisted and set with an 80-ton crane with a total weight of over 40-tons. I wanted this to stand forever, and no one will defile this site with a mere 7-11 or a Walgreens. The demolition of this and the outrage of knocking down this symbol of Christ would surely never happen. As of this writing, it still stands, but the crazies may soon attack it and try to bring it to the ground. Good luck with that. You’re going to need a lot more than a few ropes, as used on old Andy Jackson or George Washington. There is a copper lightning rod poured into the concrete running the full length of the cross designed as lightning protection, but I think God might have one of those wrath moments and send a little extra lightening through there and fry these jerks.
As time went on, the pastor from Pineda Presbyterian church (near the Pineda Causeway and Wickham Road in Melbourne wanted to know if I could build one for them. I said, sure! Cover the cost of the concrete and steel, and a couple of guys from work and I will do it. An elderly man in the congregation funded this, to honor his deceased wife. We discreetly installed, as part of the cross her wedding ring. So up went an exact copy of the one at Crossroads Community Church. My name doesn’t appear on either cross and only mentioned on a commemorative marble plaque to the founding members and pastor at the Crossroads one. I jokingly refer to these as my Ebenezer stones (look it up Bible Nerds lol). As I get old and drive-by, these old but timeless mementos of my faith, which wavers daily, the pilot light is still on. So, if you happen by these spots, they are still there, and only Armageddon will bring them down because there will be a new landlord in town.
Keep believing my friends, and if you need a little encouragement, just stop by one of these crosses and behold some things last forever and that is Jesus, but these come pretty darn close.
Tales from Depression and Dealing with it. 