"My Story: Deacon Ed Richards:" A Sermon for Proper 15

On this date in 1944, in Providence, R.I., Earl Thomas Richards, Jr. and Cathleen Bushnell Richards welcomed into this world a baby boy, Edward Thomas Richards, me. 

A few weeks later I was baptized in Grace Episcopal Church, also in Providence. Like most folks who get baptized that early, I don’t remember anything about it. However, I have a picture of me in a beautiful white dress and I have been told that I cried a bit when the priest doused me with the water.

My Dad was in and out of the Navy while I was growing up, so we moved around quite a bit. From Providence to Trumbull and then Milford, CT; back to Providence, then to Arlington, VA, to Willoughby on the Lake, OH and on to Indianapolis and then Carmel, IN. As I recall, by the time I was in the 7th grade, I was attending my 8th school. The one real constant in the vagabond life was going to church every Sunday. There were youth groups and youth choirs and then acolyting. I was confirmed a year earlier than was the custom, because I wanted so much to be an acolyte. Shortly after, my parent moved for the last time to Carmel and joined a brand new church which initially met in the cafeteria of the school. I was the first acolyte. 

All through junior high and high school I was an acoloyte and tithed at whatever jobs I had and gave the money to the church. I remember that some of it was used to buy a silver scallop shell to be used in baptisms. 

I went off to college and only graced the doors of church when I was home for vacations. In Ithaca, NY, there were far more interesting places to inhabit when not in class or studying. While in college I met a woman and we fell in love. We got married the fall after we graduated and before I started graduate school. We were married in the Episcopal church in Rumson, NJ, where she had grown up. (We both were cradle Episcopalians, a pretty rare pairing.)

After Graduate school I started working in New York City and we lived on the north Jersey shore and went to the church where we were married. I did a stint in the Army in the middle of this time of working in NYC and living in NJ. And during this time our first two children, Ted and Jan arrived.

Then in 1972, upset by the fact that my job was requiring a lot of travel, we decided to move to the great state of Maine. I had two job offers, both in banks, and took the one that was the smaller gross pay cut. I started work in September and in April of 1973, we bought a house in Gardiner, ME and the family joined me. There was an Episcopal church right around the corner from where we lived, but we never really felt welcomed or comfortable and the children cried and screamed when we took them to Sunday school. So we stopped going to church.

Fast forward to 1979 and I took a job in Brattleboro, VT and the family, which now included a 3rd child, Nathan, moved and spent 14 years there. Although my younger children, Nathan and then #4 Tracy attended a nursery school in the basement of the local Episcopal church, we never went upstairs. The years were spent raising our children, me working up the corporate ladder, including community services.

In 1992 I accepted a job in Carrollton, GA as the CFO of a small bank. And my family again moved with me, except for the older 2. Ted was in Boston working on a PhD and Jan was finishing college at SMU in Dallas. Part of the move to GA was that all the snow in VT was getting to be more than we wanted to deal with and part was for a better opportunity. 

In early 1995 I was fired from my position but given outplacement services. I ran around like a man possessed and found a job in Greenville, AL. I started work and when I called my wife and said it was time to come and look for a home in Greenville she informed me that she was not coming to Greenville. In my naivete. I asked her why she did not say that she did not like Greenville before I took the job. She replied that Greenville seemed like a nice place to live, but she was not going to live with me anymore and was instituting divorce proceedings. 

Those two blows nearly ended by life. I actually contemplated suicide, but thinking of my children prevented it. 

Now comes the Good News. I guy at work, like a good old Southern boy, asked me if I went to church. I said I hadn’t been in years. He asked that when I had been going to church where did I go. I said I was an Episcopalian. He said, funny, so was he. And asked me to come to church with him that Sunday. Having nothing else to do, I went and my life was never the same. Those folks welcomed me, nurtured me, got me involved in bible study, invited me to be part of a men’s prayer group, dragged me to Kairos prison ministry (I was not excited about going into a prison) and eventually sent me to Cursillo at Camp Beckwith, another life changing experience. The also invited me into their homes for dinner and fellowship. They literally saved my life. And while I had been absent from the church much had changed. There was a new Prayer Book (changed in 1979) and now the principal service was Holy Communion, not Morning Prayer.

After a year, I left Greenville to live with my mother in Panama City. She was in her mid 80s and not as strong as she once was. I started attending an Episcopal church in the area and approached the Rector and some of the lay leaders about becoming involved. I was told that all the positions were adequately filled, but if an opening came up they would see if I was interested. Six months later, my mother and I were attending a different Episcopal Church. There I was welcomed and brought in to the life of the parish. 

I found work with the local United Way and in a few years was the Chief Professional Officer (United Way for Exec. Dir.). But I was still involved in the church. I encouraged and took people to Cursillo (there is one coming up this fall if you are interested, Richard, Bryan Whitehead or I’d be happy to talk with you about it.) I was a lector, greeter, LEM, on the vestry and a delegate to the Diocesan Convention. 

I was in a men’s bible study group when one morning one of the men said to me, you need to go to prison with me. I said what kind of ministry was he doing, he said Kairos. I said, great, I did that when I lived in Alabama. He was shocked but got me involved and I still am.

I worked with a Spiritual Advisor who started talking to me about the Diaconate. She said I would be a great Deacon, but it was too bad that there were not Deacons in this diocese. Eventually she convinced me to talk with my priest about my calling so I did. He said it sounded like I was being called in that direction and repeated the part about no Deacons in the diocese. Then he went to the Diocesan Convention. The next Sunday morning he handed me a brochure about a new program being started in the diocese and said I should go to the informational session. I went, I applied, I was accepted, I studied and worked, and was ordained and here I am today, your Deacon. 

There are a several lessons in the story:

1, You never know how God is going to use you so be open when he calls.

2, When new people show up at church, welcome them and get them involved. There is a new program that Richard and your vestry are currently working on bring to CtK called Invite, Welcome and Connect. Jerry Morton put in an eloquent plug for it last Sunday. It is a great program and it is exactly what those folks in Greenville did to me all those years ago. I was Invited, Welcomed and Connected.

3, It is a good thing to invite folks to come to church. It really is very simple. And you have no idea what they may be going through, but this is a place of refuge and comfort and there is much here to offer.

4, Tell the Deacon to shut up and sit down he has said enough. 

5, If anyone wants to discuss my journey more deeply, please ask, I will be happy to talk with you. This is especially true if you see yourself in it.

Thanks for listening and may the God of peace and joy and believing be with us now and forever more.