man·i·fes·to

 noun \ˌma-nə-ˈfes-(ˌ)tō\

Bro. C’s Manifesto

 

My father, Clayton Iles, was affectionately known as “Brother C.”

Today marks eleven years since his death from cancer.

Just before we moved to Africa, my pastor, Charlie Bailey, handed me a sheaf of papers.  “I thought you might like these.”

It was written in my dad’s distinctive handwriting.  I’m not sure of the date (I’d guess about 1990) or the occasion for his thoughts but find them timely and insightful.

I call this “Bro. C’s Manifesto.”

It’s his thoughts on what made one church,  Dry Creek Baptist Church, tick.

It was the church he spent most of his adult life in.

The church he writes of, Dry Creek Baptist Church,  is far from perfect.

I know.  I’ve also been a member of it for most of my life.

(I currently hold the title as “non-resident member living the furthest from church.”  If you can beat 8500 miles, go for it!)

But my home church is a good church.

A caring church.

A church that has shaped my family’s lives for nearly one hundred years.

Like his home church,  my dad was not a perfect man.  But anyone that knew him can readily agree that he was an extremely good man who loved Jesus and cared about people.

May that be said of all of us.

My friend David Crane often comments on the writing and work  of theologians dead for decades and even centuries,  “Though dead, he speaketh still . . . ”

That’s the power of the written word.

Enjoy and absorb my dad’s words on what he felt that makes a church special.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think of the ditty of my childhood:

Here’s the church

And here’s the steeple

Open the doors

And there’s the people.

A church is about people.

Always people.

And how we connect the God of All Things to hurting needy sinful folks.