Author: Chris Luzio

We had hoped our new gym might be ready in time for Thanksgiving, but we decided no one would want to eat in a cold, dark, unfinished gymnasium. So we ate a delicious meal in a wonderfully crowded, and beautifully decorated, fellowship hall.

A big thank you all who had a hand in making for a great thanksgiving dinner. And as has been the case for a number of years, special thanks must go to Rhonda Bales. She and Dave, along with Lori and Gary, Dixie and Bob, Carole and Jack, and many others have always made sure we have plenty to eat, and a great time at our annual dinner.

This year another couple has literally stepped up to the plate. Elizabeth and Zach Wright have not only volunteered to join the team, they are going to take the lead in preparing our for big events so Rhonda can semi-retire. I do hope, however, that Elizabeth won’t get too busy to make more of those pretzel rolls.

Now, back to the gym. As Amos said, I’m not a prophet or the son of a prophet, so I’m not going to prognosticate as to the completion date of our new gym. We did set a target date of Thanksgiving just
to keep the ball rolling, but we’ve made some changes along the way that have slowed things down a bit.

The biggest change to our plans is to put a balcony on top of the storage areas. After realizing that balls would end up there on a regular basis, and a ladder would be needed to retrieve them, thought was given to a stairway. That led to thoughts of a balcony, and then the need for a railing, and a purpose for the balcony.

A balcony in a gym would, of course, be a great place for a set of bleachers from which to watch kids of all ages play basketball, volleyball and pickleball. And it would be a really neat place for teens
to just hang out, and for classes.

As I said, I’m not a prophet. There is still a lot of work to do and equipment to install, but I am hopeful that the next time we play volleyball together it will be in our new gym.

God Bless, Rick

If any of you were as curious as was Marilyn, you may have been as shocked as she was to find the name of our church, and my name, included in the Delinquent Real Estate Tax List. But fear not, the unintended delinquency has been addressed. There is no need to change churches, or preachers.

You may not be aware of it, but not only did Bonnie leave us sufficient funds to build a gymnasium, she left us her house. While the change of ownership was being processed the second half of the tax bill was disregarded, thinking as a church we wouldn’t have to pay it. However, upon calling in response to the
published list of delinquents, we found out that taxes payable in 2025 are for 2024, so the second half would have to be paid. And we were told if they didn’t receive payment by November 5th, a tax auction would be held, and the owner could lose their property.

I was never more thankful for my wife’s curiosity. I thought if we had missed the notice, we would have lost the house. I did find out it doesn’t take place that quickly, but I was still very thankful.

And speaking of being thankful, we are indeed thankful for all that has been entrusted to us by Jack and Bonnie. In fact, we are hoping to be able to hold our Thanksgiving Dinner in the gym. The floor has been poured, and the wiring and HVAC should be roughed in by the end of this week. The walls will then be
insulated, and the interior panels put in place. Once the lights are installed, and the furnaces and AC are operational, we should be good to go.

Even if the sport flooring and sports equipment isn’t in place, we should be able to eat dinner in the gym. We did not put plumbing or a new kitchen in the gym due to expense involved in connecting to the sewer line, and the lack of perceived need. We have an adequate food prep area for potlucks and refreshments, and the bathrooms are readily accessible.

Even if we aren’t able to eat dinner in the gym, we’ll give thanks for it, and celebrate Thanksgiving together.

God Bless, Rick

I really do not like moles. I know they eat grubs and aerate the lawn, but I still don’t’ like them. In fact, I try to kill them. I’ve tired smoking them, poisoning them, and trapping them. The first one I got, I actually got with a spade after seeing the ground move. I had just watched The Ghost and the Darkness, a movie about man-eating lions. The hunter who killed them celebrated by making a necklace out of a lion’s claw. I did likewise with my trophy. Like I said, I really do not like moles. But the dirt piles and raised dirt trails you see around the church grounds are not from giant moles. They are signs of repairs, and progress.

Our water line broke a couple of months ago, and after looking for leaks, I decided the increased water bill was just from our Wacky Wednesday Waterday. But the next month’s bill proved me wrong. A plumber was called, and since we had repaired our water line a couple of times in the past, an entire new line was called for. It’s all in, and everything is now good, except for the mole tracks.

The other tracks, leading to the gym being built, are from electric and gas lines. Those are tracks I really do like. The builder had to wait for the water line to go in first, but now that the gas and electric lines are in place, the concrete floor can be poured. And then the north wall can be covered with siding, and interior work can begin.

There is still a lot of work that has to be done before the gym is ready for use, but we’ve actually set a target date. If everything goes well, we may actually be able to have our Thanksgiving Dinner in our new facility. That will really be something exciting to be thankful for.

God Bless, Rick

After telling Matt about an experience I had with someone from Netflix, he said he knew where my next article would be coming from, and I thought he was right. But my envisioned article just became nothing more than an introduction to Carter’s experiences.

Several weeks ago Marilyn discovered we no longer had access to Netflix. I really don’t like dealing with computers, so I called. We learned they shut us off because someone in Indonesia was using our account. It took three attempts to straighten things out, but finally got it done by switching to my church email address. After making sure everything was working, the lady I had been talking with wanted to know if she could ask me something. She presumed that I was a preacher and wanted to know what I did when things weren’t going well. I shared with her the confidence I have in Christ’s love for me, and she thanked me with tears in her eyes. Now on to Carter.

It had been his practice to listen to a daily Bible reading while in the shower at home, and he was doing the same in what he thought was an empty bathroom at his new dorm. When he finished, and paused the recording, a voice came from a stall that said there was no need to turn it off, he was listening. Carter decided to seize the moment, invited him to join him at Encounter that night, and he did.

A few days later, as Marilyn and I were going for a walk, she got a message from Carter. It was a picture of a gash above his eyebrow, with blood flowing down his face and all over his shirt. A panicky call discovered that teeth from a collision with another basketball player had caused his wound. A quick call to his sister, a run to Urgent Care, and three stitches later, and he was ready to play softball that night. But not before he had shared his faith a couple of times. A girl in the elevator had noticed his bloody Fellowship of Christian Athletes shirt, and he had bonded with his nurse, so he encouraged them to also get involved in the ISU campus ministry.

As Peter told us, “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope you have.”

God Bless, Rick

I grew up in church. Mom had me in church before I was a week old, and by six I knew I wanted to be a preacher. When I was twelve a great aunt died and left a trust fund to cover the cost of my education, if I were to pursue becoming one. At fifteen I won a preaching contest, and was told I’d be preaching before 6,000 people the next day. By seventeen I was a student at Lincoln Christian College, and by eighteen a week-end youth minister at Bunn Park. All I lacked was golf clubs.
I had always heard that preachers played golf, so I figured I had to buy a set of clubs. I hit the links with a fellow youth minister a couple of times, but soon decided I’d rather settle for Putt-Putt with my youth group.
I didn’t visit a golf course again until Grace and Anna played in high school. But before long, Grandma and I were following all the grandkids around in a golf cart. That was all I ever planned to do, until Carter handed me a club and said we were going to play together.
I was really surprised I could even hit the ball, and we actually used my ball a few times in the scramble. My forearm ached the next day, but I decided it was well worth it. It wasn’t long, however, until I was feeling a little left out when the family played without me. They didn’t want to scramble all the time, so I knew I’d have to get better, and did something no one saw coming. Sixty years after giving away my clubs, I bought a second set. Who knows, maybe I’ll become a real golf-playing preacher before long.
Even more surprising, I just became a Mercedes-driving TV preacher. (I guess YouTube counts:) Anyway, after trading in my ten year old Spark for what I thought would be the last car I’d ever buy, a neighbor put a for-sale sign on his 23 year old two-seat convertible. It was far less than my “clown car” had been, so after convincing Marilyn that her Honda could be left outside, and that a roadster could replace the motorcycle I sold last year, it found a place in the garage.
Who knew life in the 70s could be so much fun for a preacher.
God Bless, Rick