by Mike Clemmer, Leadership Minister
I am a life-long fan of the Philadelphia Eagles.
This has not always been a joyful endeavor, especially during seasons filled with disappointments, injuries, and without Super Bowl victories. That is, until February 4, 2018, when, in a state of disbelief, I watched as we won Super Bowl LII.
The celebration of that victory still feels like it is alive and ongoing within my heart today, even though this season has already ended without a championship. Yet, as a fan, I am already looking forward to all the great possibilities of the 2019 season. No matter what, I believe in this team and I will always cheer them on.
I am also a fan of the Church.
This has not always been a joyful pursuit. There have been disappointments along the way, people have been hurt, and we have not yet seen the kingdom being fully fulfilled with Christ’s return. We often get side-tracked from pursuing the main purpose of the church by our personal preferences as to how the church should look and what its focus should be.
We are called to proclaim and to be a sign of the kingdom of God through our worship, discipleship, and life together. I long for the possibility of the church being “all together in one accord” (Acts 2) so that the Spirit can fill us anew. Yet despite its shortcomings, as a fan of the church, I always have hope.
This fall, my son and I had an opportunity to attend the Eagles/Texans game at Lincoln Financial Field. It was a close game that the Eagles eventually won. But what I noticed, as I sat amidst 65,000 fans, was that we were “all in one accord.” The fans sitting around me were women and men, young and old, and from every ethnic background possible. We did not always agree on what plays the Eagles should call, or what players should be on the field at a certain time, but we cheered together with passion and energy.
We all were seeking the same result—a win.
So we cheered together at good plays, booed together when we felt that the officials were not treating our team well, and sang the Eagles’ fight song together after each touchdown. We even hugged and high-fived complete strangers, because, at that game, the differences between us did not matter at all. We were simply expressing ourselves as fans of the Eagles.
As I think of the new 2019 “season” of the church, I also have the same feeling of positivity. There are many things happening, both in our individual churches as well as within the Franconia Conference—things I am hopeful and excited about.
Of course, there will be some set-backs and disappointments along the way, but each new year is an opportunity for everything to fall together and perhaps even have the opportunity for us to experience what it means to be “in one accord.”
My prayer is that, as fans of the Church, we can spur one another on as we passionately celebrate, together, what God is going to do.





Our leadership ministers met the end of March, during what we hope will be the last heavy snowstorm, at 




But lately, I have been drawn to perhaps an equally important Christian posture – that it is just as important to be able to receive. Our track record on being grateful receivers is not as stellar as our giving record. When people ask me if they can help me, my response is almost always, “No, I (or we) have things under control.” I wonder if we are not, at times, blocking others from receiving the blessing of giving to us. Do we find ourselves “above” the possibility of receiving from others?
Recently, I had an intriguing conversation about communion with a friend who worships at a local Catholic parish. He described his weekly experience of partaking the Holy Eucharist as being “a powerful, mysterious, holy event that brings [him] into the very presence of God – and therefore, something [he] needs to experience every week.” As I quietly reflected on my own experience at the Lord’s Table, somehow I felt as if I was missing something very important in my faith. In fact, his statement challenged me to think more intentionally about my own thoughts about communion.
As a young boy, I enjoyed going to my grandparent’s house to explore the many knick-knacks that were displayed around their home. Of all the fun items to see, the one that intrigued me more than any other was my great grandfather’s tuning fork. I would spend countless hours repeatedly striking it against the heel of my shoe and then holding it to my ear to listen to the sound of the vibrations – a concert A – over and over again. I would then attempt to match the pitch that I heard in my ear with my own voice while imagining myself as a chorister leading a hymn. The inscription pressed into the metal on one of the tuning fork’s tines stated “A = 440 vibrations guaranteed,” meaning that the sound in my ear would always be the same – guaranteed! But although I always heard the same pitch in my ear, somehow my ability to match that pitch with the sound of my voice was less than a perfect match.