Journey

Church has been my life in many respects. Always there, never traipsing off on a tangent, faithfully present and involved. When in those situations where people told their Jonah stories of running from God, I had little to say but “Didn’t run away,” “I stayed home.” When the “stay home” brother of the prodigal story fame occasionally made an appearance; through some preacher’s sermon, or book I was reading; I knew how the guy felt. He stayed home and so did I. Didn’t waste my father’s wealth! Worked hard! Completely dependable!

The “stayed home” story feels lacking at those moments of personal testimony, but should I really feel guilty about doing the right thing? Ridiculous, isn’t. Even now these meanderings seem an exercise of the foolish. But, somewhere along the way I began to peel away the self-confidence of staying home, the temptation to pride of remaining inside on rainy days instead of trudging through the mud. I began to see running in place can be as detrimental as running the wrong way, and actually is it not just another way of running the wrong way?

Life at home, or painfully sorting through the mess called “my life,” most appropriately operates under the banner of Journey. Not there yet! Have much to learn! Pray for me! Viewed as a journey the life of faith (seeking faith, or greater faith) is actually quite liberating. It releases me to ask and seek, to celebrate when finding, and lean dependently when at a loss.

There is no pride left in not running away, I’ve come to discover we all have our Jonah moments; some of us are just a little better at concealing them.

Anticipation

For months, where I preach, plans have taken shape as a church waited anxiously (appropriate oxymoron) for the completion of the new FLC (Family Life Center). Last week the doors were opened to classes, last night to the annual ladies Christmas party, and this Sunday to a full-sized potluck. No phrase says church more than potluck for many. It is a tradition transcending all church parameters. Sound the alarm for food and there is no quiz needed to assess an understanding of protocol.

The joy of this FLC inaugural happening is it fills the space gap. For three years fellowships have been limited and modified due to space, but now open the doors, everyone file in, and enjoy the fun.

And lest the cloud of what we have create a self-serving fog, the party places front and center the one who made it all happen – the Lord of Lords and King of Kings – Jesus! Suddenly I feel the old tune King Jesus is All running through my brain. But, it is due to Him and a healthy fear of ingratitude motivates me to embrace Him with thanks: a gratitude we will share as a church Sunday morning. Groups of Ministry Staff, Shepherds, Building Team Members, and Deacons will stand before the Westhill church to lead the body in expressions of thanks, but also to focus the body with a commitment for the path ahead.

We have been presented with a tool for active body life, not a museum for dead body remembrance!

Hang On

It's hard to believe it has been a month since Carolon and I settled into our new home and ministry here at Westhill. Our moves over the years have been few and far between, so there is a certain rookie feeling about this transition. And to be quite honest I'm glad. I would hate to waltz in with the disposition of being use to moving and starting over.

My boyhood church went through three preachers while I was growing up: Eugene Gilmore, one I only recall as Bro. Dennis, and Ed Morris. The last, Ed Morris was there for most of those years. In fact, upon graduation I returned to Burkburnett for a short stint as his associate. (What a different experience from kid in the pew to minister on staff.) So, I suppose I came into ministry with the mindset of investing years not months. Also, I have always thought not growing up in a preacher's family instilled a feeling of not being set apart from the church and just temporary member, but seeing our family as just one of many families. (Undoubtedly, those of you second, or third generations preachers, etc. might have a different perspective.)

This move carried us away from physical family and long time friends, but we have experienced such a warm reception; the experience of being here is swiftly drifting toward the familiar from the new. In addition to the reception, the pace of life has moved/and is moving rapidly as we work to build friendships; learn about ministries at Westhill and in the community; and add our gifts to the array of work already being performed. As I write this the sounds of preschool echo through the building with excitement.

By God's grace we all minister regardless of the pace. By His power we gain strength to accomplish what needs to be accomplished today. And through His wisdom we anticipate the adventure of tomorrow. HANG ON!

What Stress?

Tonight I watched a young woman who will realize a dream tomorrow, when she and her love are married, throw off the stress of an impending wedding, set aside the weariness of a day spent scurrying around town accomplishing a list of final objectives (at least final until morning delivers additional crises items), look past incidental comments which offer little help, and skip her way through the rehearsal with vibrancy and joy.

I asked her as we walked up to the restaurant door for the rehearsal dinner, "Are you really going to run down the aisle at the conclusion of the ceremony tomorrow?" a strategy for leaving the stage area she had suggested (threatened). Her response to me was, with a smile, "I would like to!" Will she do it? Probably not, but the spunk she was displaying when so many brides at wedding time are uptight and worn out, was inspiring. I know weddings are special events, and certain conventions of decorum are more acceptable than others, but too often we allow pivotal life events to transform our world into a drudgery to move past rather than an experience to embrace. Should weddings be fun? Is there really any advantage in filling the role of Bridezilla?

Let's plan, let's practice, let's pursue the perfect ceremony dream; but through it all let's do a little more skipping!!!!

Unusual and Fitting

Last Friday was one of those challenging days in ministry placing generous demands and offering great opportunity. A friend, and the brother-in-law of a church member, was tragically killed and I was asked to help with the service. This posed a few challenges, since it was out of town and preceded a wedding I had agreed to perform that evening. Making the six hour round trip, I arrived home to change into wedding attire and on to the wedding with a generous 10 minutes to spare.

What a great honor to be asked to participate in the case of both events. I have always said I am perfectly willing to be one of the crowd offering support and respect from the audience. But, when asked to take the lead role with either I am humbled. However, humility assumed new shades of meaning at the memorial service. My friend loved a great joke. He didn't mind feeling the brunt of laughter and he carried a reputation for pulling jokes on others. At his memorial service the unexpected happened.

The funeral home chapel was filled to capacity. I had requested the family write down reflections and memories of the member suddenly and tragically lost and they had responded beyond expectation. For perhaps 15 minutes I shared their thoughts with the audience allowing all to be impressed and occasionally laugh at real life experiences. When the service concluded and people were passing by the casket and out of the chapel, one older gentleman relying heavily on a cane, ambled up to the front, came face-to-face with me and informed me in no uncertain terms he had not been able to hear a thing and I needed to do something about the sound system. His voice carried throughout the chapel. He walked out the side door and the family broke into gentle laughter feeling much as I did (I would learn later in conversation with them). Though an unusual experience it felt strangely fitting for the affinity my friend felt for moments of unanticipated laughter.

As for the sound system…well let's just say visiting preachers have very little pull.

In the Distance

So how far can one be from God and still find Him? Or, to consider the question from the opposite direction, how far into the distance will God pursue a man? I don't know a definitive answer, but I see in Scripture a definitive God. Whether influenced by the metaphor of a father longing for the return of his lost son, or the image of Jesus deeply moved by humanity's condition of spiritual disorientation; God's self-sacrificing actions forge our expectations our God, who will dare to deliver up His only Son for our spiritual freedom, will wait patiently and reach deeply into our darkness and turn on the light.

What we preachers reminisce about, develop dialectical discourses regarding, and even tap for inspiration; God allowed me to experience vicariously. For years my friend had been one of the last through the doors on Sunday mornings and first to leave the assembly. He staked out a place at the rear of the auditorium during the assembly, successfully avoiding interaction with most. But, approximately a year ago life came crumbling in on him and in desperation He reached for a God who had always seemed allusive of bona fide satisfying intimacy.

With every other avenue spelling failure he began to open to God. For the first time in his life when he read the Scripture it made sense. Prayers became the substantive language of a seeker, rather than the guilty words of avoidance. Moving from the back of the auditorium to the front he began to engage more people, plug more intimately into the worship, and experience God more as an advocate than an adversary.

Last Sunday morning I rushed through the fellowship center heading for the office, following class, to drop off class material and make sure I had all of the needed material for the sermon. My friend caught me and asked if I would baptize him the following Saturday. Why Saturday? He is very shy and only wanted family and a few friends. All week long I have anticipated last night. And as he stood before witnesses professing his faith we all witnessed what God can do when the lost wants to be found.

This morning with a picture of the baptism on the screen we introduced our church to our new brother. He stood and resounding applause expressed the emotions of the church. The words of a song are resonating in my mind in facilitating my friend's overcome heart of emotions, "I once was lost, but now I am found; was blind but now I see." How far can one be from God and find He is right next door? Far! How pursuant is God of a wondering soul? Very!

Angels Unawares

As typical, children from the neighborhood attended our Vacation Bible School, with no other connection to our church other than they wanted to come to VBS. On the first night we unfolded a carnival with a large bouncing slide (which the adults enjoyed as much as the children), an inflatable jumping room, games and crafts, hot dogs, and snow cones. In the midst of the fun, I met a talkative nine year old little girl. OK "talkative nine year old" sounds redundant, but you have the picture. She told me about her family, her hobbies, and what a great time she was having at VBS.

Now our strategy is to place the refreshment time at the end of the night, outside under our portico, and have parents to pick their children up there while enjoying the refreshments themselves. This allows us as workers to get acquainted with them. On the second night of VBS I saw the mom of my new little nine year old friend and thought "I recognize her." As we talked I learned she worked at Wal-Mart and that was where I remembered her.

Flash forward a week, a trip to Wal-Mart early in the morning for an oil change, and as I entered the store there she stood calling a customer to pick up his vehicle. My first thought was to wave so as not to appear rude. My second thought was of being glad I saw her before displaying a bad attitude, negative spirit, anger, and I think you know where I am heading. OK, while Wal-Mart typically provides my oil changes, every experience has not been an exemplar of customer care and satisfaction. I go there because they are cheap and one of our members, who I have great respect for, now runs the shop.

I doubt very seriously the Hebrew writer envisioned VBS, oil changes, and Wal-Mart when he wrote, "some people have entertained angels without knowing it," 13:1; but there certainly seems to be a principle we can run with anyway. In line at McD's, checking out at HEB, driving down the freeway, waiting for the pizza which was suppose to be ready for pick-up in 20 minutes and now it is 40 minutes later, and on and on. We never know when God is checking out our hospitality through unassuming circumstances. We never know when the gracious attitude shown at VBS finds validation, or invalidation on a quick trip to Wal-Mart.