Carpet Splitting

By Brian Jennings

As a young man still in Bible college, Chuck Thomas was invited to preach at First Christian Church in Gotebo, Oklahoma. The church was searching for a new preacher. Chuck accepted, and drove to the small town the following Sunday.

Chuck noticed the church (both the building and the people) seemed split down the middle. Both sides had their own Communion table, and their own elders, who separately prayed and served their half of the congregation. This strange division bewildered Chuck and his wife, Anita.

A friendly family invited them over for Sunday lunch. After eating, Chuck asked about the obvious division. To his surprise, the family knew there was a division, but didn”t know why. They called a grandmother, who provided the answer.

Many years earlier, the congregation voted to install new carpet. Half of the congregation wanted blue carpet, but the other half wanted rose carpet. The dispute led to a split church. Blue carpet was installed in half of the church building and rose carpet in the other half. Families stayed on their carpet, and shared Communion only with their like-minded friends. Even after the carpet was updated, folks kept to their sides.

One church. Two bunkers.

Chuck”s a mild-mannered guy, but God whispered for him to pick up his prophet”s staff. With trembling hands, he obeyed.

 

“˜Forgive Us Our Trespasses”

Chuck had already planned to preach on the Lord”s Prayer from Matthew 6 the following week. His sermon was summarized in one line, paraphrased from the Lord”s Prayer: “Father, forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” He pleaded with the people to forgive anyone needing forgiveness.

The next week he preached about forgiveness again.

After the third consecutive forgiveness sermon, the elders decided it was time for a chat. They asked him why he was spending so much time on that one specific phrase from the Lord”s Prayer.

“If we won”t forgive those who offend us, God won”t forgive us,” he said, and there was anguish in his voice. “I feel compelled to keep preaching this until y”all forgive each other.”

 

“˜I Can”t Do This Anymore!”

The next Sunday, things were going as usual. The people took their places, and Chuck slid forgiveness sermon number four into his Bible. Here we go again, he thought.

But when it came time for Communion, hearts yielded to the Spirit. One of the elders, with tears in his eyes, wailed, “Wait! I can”t do this anymore.” He walked to the other side, extended his hand and asked one of the other elders for forgiveness.

The other elder did not offer his hand. He embraced him with both arms.

People in the congregation started doing the same thing. Forgiveness was requested and granted. Tears flowed. Joy erupted.

By the time people returned to their seats, it was almost lunchtime. Chuck pulled his sermon notes out of his Bible and tossed them on the pew. He walked to the pulpit, read the Lord”s Prayer, and dismissed them with prayer. For the first time in years, they went home in peace.

And Chuck, retelling the story many decades later, said, “It was one of the greatest moments of my life.”

 

Brian Jennings serves as lead minister with Highland Park Christian Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma. This article is adapted from his upcoming book, Out of the Bunkers. Brian writes at www.brianjenningsblog.com.