Clouds of Harvest: Joe Bayly

by Wil Triggs

I love fall, but I get a little wistful at the season. I have a lot of memories of coming to Wheaton for the first time in late summer and trying to get my bearings. Looking back, I associate a lot of the season with people who are gone now. One of those people is Joe Bayly.

It’s strange to think that so many people at College Church don’t remember Joe Bayly or realize that he and his family went to church here.

That just doesn’t seem right.

So even if you have no idea who Joe Bayly is/was, indulge me—remember him with me.

To borrow a title from something he wrote, how shall we remember Joe?

Growing up in California, I had heard of Chicago, but never of Wheaton or Wheaton College. After I got serious about my faith, I decided to go to Biola College—and one of the first chapels I attended featured a reader's theater of “How Silently, How Silently,” a story Joe wrote about Jesus coming to a town at Christmas and not exactly finding open arms of welcome.
 

It was the first time I had ever seen a reader’s theater and the first time I had ever encountered a Christian story that was so funny and contemporary and right. It made me want to do reader’s theater and it made me want to write. I ended up doing a lot of both.

I went to the college bookstore and found Joe’s books. I read stories and psalms right there in the store and wondered how there could be a Christian voice like this from a guy so funny, honest, simple and complex at the same time. I prayed, asking God to let me meet him.
 

I had no idea that God would move me here and put me in Joe’s church or the Adult Community he taught. And when I moved here, one of the first families to invite me to their home for a dinner was the Baylys—Joe, Mary Lou, David and Nathan.

Looking back, here are some things I remember and celebrate about Joe Bayly.

•Good Priorities. When I met Joe, I expected a little more artiness. There was none of that. He was a solid, genuine and serious Christian. His art and craft didn’t take the place of God, which it tended to do for me when I was first aspiring to be a good writer.

•An Open Home. Joe and Mary Lou were always ready to add another place at their table. The food always tasted great. They opened their home to singles during holidays. In a community like ours, where schedules and lives tend to be plannedout, I felt like I could always stop by and be welcomed.
 

•Some Dissent it OK. The Bayly table was about more than eating. We talked. If you were quiet, Joe or someone else might call on you to find out what you thought. Everyone didn’t automatically agree—most often there were at least two perspectives on whatever was being discussed. Debate was welcome, but it was always in the context of respect and love.

•A Great Wife Covers a Multitude of… Mary Lou was amazing. Always there, but rarely in the forefront, making everything just happen. They were a team in every way—one that Lorraine and I aspire to be like.

•Keep Writing—the only advice I ever got from Joe on writing were these two words. I saw the discipline and focus in his ministry life and care for other people as well.

If you have someone like Joe in your life, or if you have an especially fond memory of Joe or someone like him, email (wtriggs@college-church.org) and let me know.

A Skewed Perspective

by Lorraine Triggs

My oldest sister and I decided to play Hangman while we waited for our mom's flight to arrive. Out came the paper and we drew the rudimentary gallows (even as adults, we still included the hook in our games). Underneath, my sister drew seven blank lines.

Going for the vowels I chose A and E. She filled in the first blank with A and the last with E.

No clue.

I kept guessing, sometimes right, mostly wrong. I had no idea what the word was, and my hangman was quickly filling in.

I finally gave up and my sister completed the word:

A-N-T-I-Q-U-E

I stared at it and announced, "An-ti-que? There's no such word as an-ti-que" with a stress on the last of my three-syllable pronunciation.

"It's antique," she replied as only older sibs can.

Duh. I wasn't a little kid playing Hangman. I knew the word "antique"—I love antiques—but I couldn't see the word for the life of me, only the individual letters.

My perspective on life can be a lot like that game of Hangman. I am so focused on the individual parts of my life, whether the good or bad pieces, that I don't see God's good hand at work in it at all. I don't see the word for all the letters.

About two years ago, my husband, Wil, and I were asked if we wanted to be small group leaders. Naturally, I said . . . "No! I don't want to."

I had some pretty solid reasons: I already had my Women's Bible Study small group, I really couldn't afford another night out, especially working full time, and what about that book Crazy Busy that Pastor Josh Stringer kept talking about?

Then the real reason surfaced. Years ago, when I first came to church, I was all excited to join a small group. The husband and wife invited my flatmate and me to dinner, but they didn't want me in their group. They only had room for my friend. Small groups represented one thing to me—rejection.

Did I want to be in a small group? Absolutely not. Would I anyway?

Well, when I confessed this hurt to Wil, my wise and kind husband understood my reluctance and had some interesting things to say about the people who didn't have room to put me in their small group. We used to call these "life groups," which might feel a little bit like a "life sentence" in jail, if you end up in a bad group. Wil assured me that the new life group concept was different. "Let's try it for a couple of years," he said. So I said yes.

Well, we're starting our third year as small group leaders, and had I stayed focused on my good reasons for saying no, I would have missed out on God's good hand in placing Chris, Tom, Steve, Lois, Mary, Kathy, Mark, Julia, Jim, Terri, Rick and Laura in my life. I would have missed out on the joys and sorrows that we've shared. I wouldn't have seen God's good hand writing in day-to-day living ...

G-R-A-C-E,

L-O-V-E,

F-O-R-G-I-V-E-N-E-S-S,

S-A-L-V-A-T-I-O-N.

It's a humbling and glorious reality to know that my bits and pieces are not the most important things in the universe and that God has invited me to come and see with him, and them, and you.