In high school my favorite class was always study hall, because there I could read what I wanted to read. I read books about ministry, pastoring, preaching, evangelism, discipleship, prayer, and the Christian family. I don’t ever remember reading textbooks. I had something else burning in my heart. I wanted to be used of God to influence people for Christ. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel that way. Today I want to share a story with you about how a woman was used to influence many for Christ in a very, very simple way. Maybe it will inspire your “people-influencing-efforts.”

Knox County is a pleasant county in central Ohio. Mt. Vernon is the county seat. Most of the county is covered with hills gentle enough to farm and beautiful enough to take your breath away on a spring morning or an autumn evening. The streets of Mt. Vernon were lined with Dogwoods when we moved there the day after Easter on April 20, 1987. It was a very, very happy day for me. I was eager to be a solo pastor. Outwardly I exuded confidence but secretly I was hopeful that I had what it would take to be a pastor.

Lois and I spent ten years of our lives living and working in Knox County. While we were there four of our eight children were born. Heidi, Hannah, Daniel and Wesley. Hannah, Daniel and Wesley were born at home during our Neo-Amish years, but that is another story.

God directed us to start a church in Knox County. I often think of that decade of our lives. We have many, many happy memories there. If I was starting that church again I would do some things differently. There is a lot we could have done better. I would have been a little more relaxed about some things. I would have been more intense about other things. It was not a perfect model of church-planting by any means at all, but in spite of all that, God worked–he worked in beautiful, lasting ways.

At the time I wasn’t sure my pastoral “career” was making much progress. I had to continually remind myself that pastoral work is a calling requiring faithfulness and holiness not an exercise in self-promotion and professional advancement. In spite of the many ways we could have improved there is no doubt that God allowed us to have a significant ministry there. To see it you would have to have spiritual discernment, but we planted some trees of ministry that still grow there on the gentle slopes of Knox County.

For some reason I think often of something that happened in early years of that church. One day a young woman showed up at our church. I think her little boy may have been with her that day. At the time I was working diligently to reach people. The church was small. I sent the bulletin on Thursday to everyone in the church. I often personally phoned anyone who missed the services. It was small. I could do that. The young woman who visited that Sunday was not someone I had ever met. No one in the church knew her. None of us had ever met her before.

After church we talked. She liked the church, which was remarkable because it was a small church meeting in an old converted Grange Hall on a country road. Our floors were wooden. We sat on metal folding chairs. It was a very, very simple affair. Nothing there to impress.

I asked her, “Dawn, how did you happen to find us?”

She said; “I work at a bank in Columbus. A co-worker invited me out for lunch. As we ate she said; ‘Dawn let me tell you why I invited you today. I’m a Christian and I am going to take all the girls in the office out to lunch one at a time so that I can explain to each of them how to be a follower of Jesus.’

At that point Dawn said, she began to cry. She said, “That is so sweet of you. I’m already a Christian. I was raised in a church, but I’ve had a lot of trouble and I’m far from God.”

“What church did you attend growing up?”

“I went to a little Baptist Church down in southern Ohio.”

“Well, why don’t you get up Sunday morning early, get dressed for church and drive around and look for a Baptist Church?”

That morning Dawn started driving out across the countryside and I am convinced that God’s Spirit guided her car to our little Grange Hall. She was not put off at all by the humble church–it reminded her of the church of her childhood.

Dawn returned to fellowship with Christ and his church. Eventually God would work powerfully in her family. She would enthusiastically invite many others. At one point I counted over fifty people that made our little church their home because of her invitation. I’ve often wondered how I could inspire other “Dawns” in churches I have served.

I don’t know the name of the young lady who invited Dawn out for lunch that day to give her the gospel. I’m sure I never knew her name, but I know that God knows her name. She couldn’t possibly know what happened as a result of her simple efforts. But God knows.

Ken Pierpont
Granville Cottage
Riverview, Michigan
February 6, 2012

Lois took some beautiful pictures of Sue Lodico. Sue is a missionary who is leaving for South Africa on Valentine’s Day. The pictures turned out great. She tried to give Lois money but Lois wanted the pictures to be a gift. They had a friendly argument and then, like good friends do, they arrived at a compromise.

Lois gave Sue the pictures. Sue gave Lois a gift certificate to a neat little restaurant in don’t-blink-or-you-will-miss-it, Waltz, Michigan. It’s been unseasonably not-so-unbearably-cold lately. We had a nice drive out to Waltz on dry roads. We ate and we talked and we took our time and enjoyed our thoughtful gift from Sue the South African Missionary.

Lois and I enjoyed spending some unhurried time together. We’ve been together for over 33 years now.

Earlier this evening I visited the funeral home. A young mother had lost a two-year battle with cancer leaving behind her husband and two little boys. I gave the young man a New Testament and encouraged him to seek God in his sorrow.

After dinner I walked my little wife to the car. We turned up the heat and took the long way home. It was a nice evening. It’s good to have a life full of people to love. It’s good to be alive.

The old wedding vows say that marriage is designed to divine all of life’s sorrows and multiplies all of it’s joys.

Ken Pierpont
Granville Cottage
Riverview, Michigan
February 3, 2012

As I write it’s Monday morning. I’ve had a wonderfully exhausting weekend, driving north and preaching five times, and a restful night. It’s a cold winter day outside. I only know because I let Hazard out for minute or two before ducking back into the warm security and comfort of our home. Now I want to write.

I realize more and more that I am probably not a writer who speaks, but I am a speaker who writes. But I do and I will write and work hard at writing for the rest of my life because there are so many people I can reach through writing who I will never have the opportunity of speaking to.

Yesterday two people in two different places wanted to meet me after I had spoken. They had been reading the Stonebrige Newsletter for years and loved the stories and wanted to meet the writer in person. Not everyone reads dense text on a page or screen but many do and for them I write. For those who I have never met and those who I will never meet I write.

I also write especially for those who I have meet and who I deeply love, many of whom share my last name. I write for my children and for the children who will be born to my children and I write for their children. I write for them so that I will pass on a rich heritage of faith and love for life and fidelity to Christ, Our Savior.

Once, years ago, when our children were all small and we were passing through deep, dangerous waters, I spent a day alone with the Lord high over some water under a pine tree writing, reading, listening to a recording–a wonderful old recording of a man’s testimony of the faithfulness and direction of God. I prayed and searched through my Bible looking for answers that would steady my soul during a time of self-doubt, self-condemnation, and self-evaluation.

I’ll save the heart of the story for another time, but on that summer afternoon the Lord directed my eyes to a passage in Isaiah that I seized upon as a personal promise to me. “All your children will be taught of the Lord adn great will be the peace of your children.” (Isaiah 54:13) It is one of the soaring prophetic future kingdom promises to Israel. My heart so longed for it to be true of the children the Lord had given to Lois and I. Four sons taught of the Lord. Four daughters taught of the Lord. My soul longed for that to come to pass. My heart believed that it would come to pass. I may have had a simplistic understanding of how to apply the Scriptures that afternoon, but it seemed that the Spirit had directed my eyes down the page in a specific answer to the longing concern of my soul.

“Lord,” I prayed that afternoon, “What about my children. What about them. I’m serving you and you have given me assurance that no weapon formed against me will prosper. You have given confidence that you will condemn any voice that rises against me in judgment. (Isaiah 54:17) I believe it. But because of my weakness and failure and abrasiveness and because of the depravity of others I fear that my children will be harmed. I fear that they will be turned away from serving you.” I looked away from my Bible and out over the water and prayed aloud, “What about our children?”

I glanced back down and my eyes focuses on verse thirteen. My hopeful heart seized upon it as a promise from the Lord. The passage seemed to be saying, ‘I will teach them myself and they will have peace.’ All your children will be taught of the Lord and great will be the peace of your children.”

And so I write. I write so they will read of the works and the wonders of God and pour themselves into our grandchildren so they will set their hope in God and not forget the works of God but keep his commandments–(Psalm 78). I write so all our children will be taught of the Lord and know in personal experience what it means to live at peace with God.

I’ve written Sunset on Summer, collection of family stories. I’ve written over a thousand other essays and stories. I’m near finished with a collection of stories clustered around the theme of my grandfather’s old central Ohio farm and I will keep writing. I will keep writing for my children and their children and for you and your children.

May Jesus Christ be Praised and may all your children be taught of the Lord.

Ken Pierpont
Granville Cottage
Riverview, Michigan
January 30, 2012

Keira Lee Hancock

This week we were surprised with the birth of our third grandchild, a tiny, beautiful, perfect little girl. Her name is Keira Lee Hancock. She was born on Tuesday to our daughter Heidi and her husband Austin in Kenosha, Wisconsin. She was born a few weeks earlier than we expected. She weighed five and a half pounds at birth and she was 18.5 inches tall. Word cannot tell the story so you might want to click here to see the photos of the young family. http://loispierpont.com/our-sweet-granddaughter-keira-lee/ We’ve been celebrating all week. Holding our first granddaughter this week, visiting with our little grandbuddies, speaking to young people all weekend has reminded me why I write.
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Why I Write
by Ken Pierpont

As I write it’s Monday morning. I’ve had a wonderfully exhausting weekend, driving north and preaching five times, and a restful night. It’s a cold winter day outside. I only know because I let Hazard out for minute or two before ducking back into the warm security and comfort of our home. Now I want to write.

I realize more and more that I am probably not a writer who speaks, but I am a speaker who writes. But I do and I will write and work hard at writing for the rest of my life because there are so many people I can reach through writing who I will never have the opportunity of speaking to.

Yesterday two people in two different places wanted to meet me after I had spoken. They had been reading the Stonebrige Newsletter for years and loved the stories and wanted to meet the writer in person. Not everyone reads dense text on a page or screen but many do and for them I write. For those who I have never met and those who I will never meet I write.

I also write especially for those who I have meet and who I deeply love, many of whom share my last name. I write for my children and for the children who will be born to my children and I write for their children. I write for them so that I will pass on a rich heritage of faith and love for life and fidelity to Christ, Our Savior.

Once, years ago, when our children were all small and we were passing through deep, dangerous waters, I spent a day alone with the Lord high over some water under a pine tree writing, reading, listening to a recording–a wonderful old recording of a man’s testimony of the faithfulness and direction of God. I prayed and searched through my Bible looking for answers that would steady my soul during a time of self-doubt, self-condemnation, and self-evaluation.

I’ll save the heart of the story for another time, but on that summer afternoon the Lord directed my eyes to a passage in Isaiah that I seized upon as a personal promise to me. “All your children will be taught of the Lord adn great will be the peace of your children.” (Isaiah 54:13) It is one of the soaring prophetic future kingdom promises to Israel. My heart so longed for it to be true of the children the Lord had given to Lois and I. Four sons taught of the Lord. Four daughters taught of the Lord. My soul longed for that to come to pass. My heart believed that it would come to pass. I may have had a simplistic understanding of how to apply the Scriptures that afternoon, but it seemed that the Spirit had directed my eyes down the page in a specific answer to the longing concern of my soul.

“Lord,” I prayed that afternoon, “What about my children. What about them. I’m serving you and you have given me assurance that no weapon formed against me will prosper. You have given confidence that you will condemn any voice that rises against me in judgment. (Isaiah 54:17) I believe it. But because of my weakness and failure and abrasiveness and because of the depravity of others I fear that my children will be harmed. I fear that they will be turned away from serving you.” I looked away from my Bible and out over the water and prayed aloud, “What about our children?”

I glanced back down and my eyes focuses on verse thirteen. My hopeful heart seized upon it as a promise from the Lord. The passage seemed to be saying, ‘I will teach them myself and they will have peace.’ All your children will be taught of the Lord and great will be the peace of your children.”

And so I write. I write so they will read of the works and the wonders of God and pour themselves into our grandchildren so they will set their hope in God and not forget the works of God but keep his commandments–(Psalm 78). I write so all our children will be taught of the Lord and know in personal experience what it means to live at peace with God.

I’ve written Sunset on Summer, collection of family stories. I’ve written over a thousand other essays and stories. I’m near finished with a collection of stories clustered around the theme of my grandfather’s old central Ohio farm and I will keep writing. I will keep writing for my children and their children and for you and your children.

May Jesus Christ be Praised and may all your children be taught of the Lord.

Ken Pierpont
Granville Cottage
Riverview, Michigan
January 30, 2012

When I was small, before my Grandfather Pierpont had retired from Owens Corning Fiberglass in Newark, we visited the farm one weekend. It was in those first few warm and wonderful days of summer. We suburban kids longed so deeply to feel the grass between our toes. We longed for the touch of the evening breeze on our face, the sun on our heads, the scent of things that grow.  We longed for a ride on the tractor-for a evening with our cane poles on the edge of the quiet pond as the summer evening set in and the sound of the crickets crecendoed with the waning light. 

When we arrived Grandpa announced that he had a surprise for us. It was in the lane. We would have to search. We all scurried to see what it was. The factory had discarded dozens of large green balls that looked like dark green glass marbles a little darker in color than telephone insulator glass, but similar. Each round class ball had a certain imperfection in it. Grandpa had spread them in the drive and told us if we found them we could have them. We gathered them like greedily little pirates.

Back home marbles this size were called “boulders” and we discovered to our delight that they were coveted by the neighbor kids. I had a large supply of them at one time so a swapped them for “stealeys” and for other “boulders,” and sometimes for baseball cards. 

Grandma and Grandpa survived the depression, but not without hunger and not without hardship and not without watching my great grandfather lose my Grandfather’s childhood home–a pleasant farm whose house crowned a hill looking out over hills and valleys of pasture and field. It was on the main road through Chatham just north of town so we often reversed the sad story. I think it must have been a part of who my grandparents were. 

Grandma and Grandpa were serious about their work. They were diligent about their savings. They were conscientious about  the smallest expenditure. They didn’t waste things. They didn’t throw away things that were used. They salvaged and found multiple uses for things. They saved things others threw away. They saw value in things others had no use for. Grandpa immediately saw value in the unique green glass balls. 

That was years ago. The farm is no longer in family. The place is still there but almost nothing survives now that I remember from my youth except for the great Spruce still standing on the bank of the spring run. You could sift every stone in the lane that winds down from the road over the creek to the house and you would find nothing but white native limestone gravel. I’m sure over the years we mined every green glass ball from that lane. I would very much love to have one of those marbles today. A stranger would never understand their value, but if you were to show one to my bothers or my sister I’m sure it would start a bidding war. 

What if we had the ability to see today the value something would have once the years have past? What if we could see ahead and know how worthless somethings are that preoccupy us and worry us now? Wouldn’t it be good to be able to see things that way. 

God help me see the value of things the way you see it–through the lens of Your perfect eternal evaluation. When time is no more what will I value, what will I cherish? What among the things that I worry about here will lose it’s value when time is no more? Are you sure what you are worrying about right now is worth worrying about? Are you sure the things you squander now won’t have value one day?

A wise teacher once told me: “Wisdom is seeing life from God’s point-of-view, and God’s will is exactly what you would choose if you knew the future.” (Bill Gothard)

Last weekend I spoke to about 200 teens at Camp Barakel. Among them was a large group of young people from Grace Church in Granger, Indiana, where our son Kyle is the Youth Pastor. It was a perfect winter weekend.

There is really no way to describe the fellowship, the birds outside the dining hall, the purity of the white snow, the sun rising over the frozen lake, the trees dusted with snow, the laughter of the campers, the fragrance of wood smoke hanging in the air, the warmth of roaring wood fires wherever you go, the solitude of time alone with God, the love of those who love the Lord, the anointed singing and worship and the quietness that falls on the chapel when truth is shared in Scripture and in story. You would have to experience it to appreciate it fully.

I preached on Four Reasons to Live Missionally. I will be sharing these messages with our own fellowship soon and I will point to the podcasts when they are available.

Friday Night: When You Live Missionally it Has a Simplifying Effect. (Matthew 5:25-22)
Saturday Morning …It has a Satisfying Effect (Mark 8:34-35)
Saturday Evening …It has a Sanctifying Effect (1 Timothy 4:11-16; 2 Timothy 2:19-22)
Sunday Morning …It has a Sustained Effect (Matthew 19:27-30)

Years ago, when I was going through a season of reaction and resistance to my leadership in a church, my brother Nathan was helping with music. He was living at home and attending college. Nathan came to church one particularly difficult evening and he had a note for me from Dad. It was a simple passage of Scripture to read: Ezekiel 2:4-5. Dad quickly jotted it on the back of his business card and sent it my way.

Before I went out to preach that night I looked up the passage and it was a powerful encouragement to me to take courage in leadership and to preach and lead with God in mind and not to concern myself primarily with who receives the truth and who rejects the truth. Get on our face and be sure that God is pleased with what you have to say and preach the Word of God. Then know that some will reject it and some will receive it.

This afternoon while browsing in my own library I came across the very card. (pictured) It was a powerful encouragement to me and a reminder to preach and lead to please the Lord and not to please people.

When your work on earth is done could it be said; “They will know that a prophet has been among them.”

If you don’t love you don’t really know your Bible and you don’t really know God. Love is the heart of God’s law.

Message: Blinded by Stubborn Legalism
Series: Matthew’s Gospel
Text: Matthew 12:1-14
Date: January 22, 2012 AM
Place: Evangel Baptist Church–Taylor, Michigan
Speaker: Pastor Kenneth L. Pierpont

There is good religion and bad religion. In this talk I go after bad religion. Jesus had very little patience with bad religion. He saved his straitest talk for “Bad-religion pushers.”

Message: The Demonic Vortex of Legalism
Series: The Gospel of Matthew
Place: Evangel Baptist Church–Taylor, Michigan
Date: January 15, 2012
Speaker: Pastor Kenneth L. Pierpont

This evening I came across this wonderful photo of my Dad preaching at Evangel for a Good Friday service. He as at his best that day. I just spent a few days alone with the Lord, just fostering fellowship with the Lord and spending time with Him.

Over and over I thanked Him for my faithful, godly parents. Driving home it occurred to me again how profoundly my parents have influenced me for good and for God and how deeply I love them.

Mostly I just wanted you to see this man.