Faith Works 7-10-2026
Jeff Gill
A pilgrim people, wandering in a familiar wilderness
___
In both Hebrews and First Peter you get imagery of the community of faith as a pilgrim people. Our home, our permanent place, is not here, but is being prepared for us, made perfect in Heaven.
None of which keeps us from getting pretty attached to here and now sometimes.
One of the lovely things in this life is how the entire Granville community comes together for the Fourth of July, with Granville Kiwanis in a leadership role for the four day Street Fair and parade on Independence Day itself. I had watched that parade for years, and have been directly involved in it since 2005.
With the calendar falling as it did this year, the Street Fair ended on the Fourth itself. One thing Granville Kiwanis prides itself on is closing down and cleaning up so the next morning, often being Sunday, you can hardly tell it was there. Even much of the pavement gets washed and scrubbed and rinsed, let alone the trash picked up.
After the parade in the morning, and with preaching duties early the next morning, I didn’t help this year with tear down. But I was thinking of them and their work as I drove past downtown on my way north as the sun was rising in the east.
Coming the other way, south from New Burg St., was a flotilla of trucks and trailers from the amusement company; the rides folded up and food vendors road ready. Travel trailers many of the carnival workers live in much of year, pick-up trucks, and the last few ride trailers passed me into the rear view mirror.
We were done, here in our village; they were moving on to the next town. They plan out their season, take the bookings that work out; they love coming to Licking County, and Granville Kiwanis works it out with the school district for them to park before set-up, and the night after tear-down. Six nights with us may be one of their longest stays in any one place all summer, and summer for them starts in May and continues into October.
The carnival is, by definition, a pilgrim people. They do not stay, they move on to where they’re next called to set up their booths and rides and attractions. Repetition makes master; they are quick, quicker even than our veteran Kiwanians at putting up tentage and assembling venues. Even faster tearing down.
We’re told they like it here, that we’re one of their very favorite stops. Maybe they say that to everyone, but I don’t think so. This is a good week in their books, about midway through the season, and they can tell by now how it’s likely to end. They like it here, but they cannot stay.
A pilgrim people we are. I’ve been blessed, in an odd way; my seminary church burned down not halfway through my training, and it’s an amazing experience for a young minister to work through with a congregation. Then my home church, where I intended to be ordained at, was condemned for structural damage and the service was under a giant tent obtained from the local National Guard, next to the church building which would be demolished a few weeks later. Reaffirmation twice over to me: we are a pilgrim people.
This world is not our home. This life is a period of engagement, like carnies in a town, where we come in to it with certain expectations, and leave at a certain time, even if not always known by us in advance.
The quiet dawn parade of the amusement crews headed south, as I drove north, to preach to another pilgrim people. The time frames a bit different, but the basic concept the same. We do our work where we are, and move on when it’s time, looking forward to what’s being prepared for us at the final stop.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he’s been known to clown around, but mostly to shovel at the end of the parade. Tell him how you travel through this world at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on X.
Jeff Gill
A pilgrim people, wandering in a familiar wilderness
___
In both Hebrews and First Peter you get imagery of the community of faith as a pilgrim people. Our home, our permanent place, is not here, but is being prepared for us, made perfect in Heaven.
None of which keeps us from getting pretty attached to here and now sometimes.
One of the lovely things in this life is how the entire Granville community comes together for the Fourth of July, with Granville Kiwanis in a leadership role for the four day Street Fair and parade on Independence Day itself. I had watched that parade for years, and have been directly involved in it since 2005.
With the calendar falling as it did this year, the Street Fair ended on the Fourth itself. One thing Granville Kiwanis prides itself on is closing down and cleaning up so the next morning, often being Sunday, you can hardly tell it was there. Even much of the pavement gets washed and scrubbed and rinsed, let alone the trash picked up.
After the parade in the morning, and with preaching duties early the next morning, I didn’t help this year with tear down. But I was thinking of them and their work as I drove past downtown on my way north as the sun was rising in the east.
Coming the other way, south from New Burg St., was a flotilla of trucks and trailers from the amusement company; the rides folded up and food vendors road ready. Travel trailers many of the carnival workers live in much of year, pick-up trucks, and the last few ride trailers passed me into the rear view mirror.
We were done, here in our village; they were moving on to the next town. They plan out their season, take the bookings that work out; they love coming to Licking County, and Granville Kiwanis works it out with the school district for them to park before set-up, and the night after tear-down. Six nights with us may be one of their longest stays in any one place all summer, and summer for them starts in May and continues into October.
The carnival is, by definition, a pilgrim people. They do not stay, they move on to where they’re next called to set up their booths and rides and attractions. Repetition makes master; they are quick, quicker even than our veteran Kiwanians at putting up tentage and assembling venues. Even faster tearing down.
We’re told they like it here, that we’re one of their very favorite stops. Maybe they say that to everyone, but I don’t think so. This is a good week in their books, about midway through the season, and they can tell by now how it’s likely to end. They like it here, but they cannot stay.
A pilgrim people we are. I’ve been blessed, in an odd way; my seminary church burned down not halfway through my training, and it’s an amazing experience for a young minister to work through with a congregation. Then my home church, where I intended to be ordained at, was condemned for structural damage and the service was under a giant tent obtained from the local National Guard, next to the church building which would be demolished a few weeks later. Reaffirmation twice over to me: we are a pilgrim people.
This world is not our home. This life is a period of engagement, like carnies in a town, where we come in to it with certain expectations, and leave at a certain time, even if not always known by us in advance.
The quiet dawn parade of the amusement crews headed south, as I drove north, to preach to another pilgrim people. The time frames a bit different, but the basic concept the same. We do our work where we are, and move on when it’s time, looking forward to what’s being prepared for us at the final stop.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he’s been known to clown around, but mostly to shovel at the end of the parade. Tell him how you travel through this world at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on X.
