Friday, April 28, 2006
The Letter
I read the blog of a good friend, Steve Puckett (also added his link to this site), on communion and community. [Click here to read it.] I've known Steve and his family for many, many years and love them dearly.
Shortly after reading his blog, I was given a letter our church received addressed "To Whom It May Concern" from an apparently concerned couple in this area seeking a "sound" church of Christ. Two pages. Forty-six questions requesting detailed responses. The expected topics: MDR (marriage, divorce, remarriage). Leadership. Cooperation. Women's role. Fellowship with people who are not "sound." One or multiple cups for communion. Ad nauseum.
Then, as if answering their legalistic inquisition were not enough, the final sentence states: "If you choose to respond and we hope you do please identify which congregation you are from. We know these are a lot of questions; however we would appreciate your response to each point. If there is anything else that you feel is important that we have not asked or addressed please feel free to include that to [sic] your response."
One of our elder's wives passed the letter on to me to decide whether or not I wanted to respond. I didn't have to read the letter to know any response I might give would be a waste of my time and theirs. This couple is not seeking a community of fellowship of people saved by grace and walking by faith. They are seeking a fortress surrounded by high walls to keep "unsound" people out! It would be a very small fortress as only a very few people would ever qualify for admittance. But I'm keeping the letter for illustrative purposes ... and occasionally just to remind myself of how fortunate I am to be among the church family that embraces me, warts, wrinkles, wrongs and all, and continually points me toward Jesus Christ and Him only.
I was once much closer to their fortress than I care to admit. I hope they can find some people who meet up their standards. Thank you for the opportunity to answer your questions Mr. and Mrs. E., but I'll cast my lot with those who plead nothing more than the blood of Jesus and the grace of God for salvation.
Shortly after reading his blog, I was given a letter our church received addressed "To Whom It May Concern" from an apparently concerned couple in this area seeking a "sound" church of Christ. Two pages. Forty-six questions requesting detailed responses. The expected topics: MDR (marriage, divorce, remarriage). Leadership. Cooperation. Women's role. Fellowship with people who are not "sound." One or multiple cups for communion. Ad nauseum.
Then, as if answering their legalistic inquisition were not enough, the final sentence states: "If you choose to respond and we hope you do please identify which congregation you are from. We know these are a lot of questions; however we would appreciate your response to each point. If there is anything else that you feel is important that we have not asked or addressed please feel free to include that to [sic] your response."
One of our elder's wives passed the letter on to me to decide whether or not I wanted to respond. I didn't have to read the letter to know any response I might give would be a waste of my time and theirs. This couple is not seeking a community of fellowship of people saved by grace and walking by faith. They are seeking a fortress surrounded by high walls to keep "unsound" people out! It would be a very small fortress as only a very few people would ever qualify for admittance. But I'm keeping the letter for illustrative purposes ... and occasionally just to remind myself of how fortunate I am to be among the church family that embraces me, warts, wrinkles, wrongs and all, and continually points me toward Jesus Christ and Him only.
I was once much closer to their fortress than I care to admit. I hope they can find some people who meet up their standards. Thank you for the opportunity to answer your questions Mr. and Mrs. E., but I'll cast my lot with those who plead nothing more than the blood of Jesus and the grace of God for salvation.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Omens?
Kelly got voted off American Idol, which didn't surprise me, but she was my favorite. Not necessarily the best, but she was so much fun to watch and has a great country voice. My next favorite entertainer is Taylor, but hands down the best vocalist is Katherine. Time and 50 million votes a week will tell....I'm almost too tired to even write (Wednesday night), but let me express heart-felt gratitude for the responses to the previous blog. For the record, I'm not discouraged. As a matter of fact, I've never been more encouraged in ministry than these past couple of years. I've also felt like my role at Long Beach might have been a healing role (this church certainly provided much needed healing fo rme over the years) and the next preacher would really take this congregation where it needs to be. The decision to pursue funeral directing has not been a quick decision. It's evolved over several years of seeing God open some doors I never thought would open. Too, try to get a job as a 53-year-old preacher anywhere these days! Just can't compete against the younger guys out there, though God does have the final say in such matters and I'm content to allow Him to cast that vote. I make my plans and He laughs. But my feeling is that Long Beach, as wonderful a church family as it is, would probably do better with some new blood in the pulpit, some of your comments notwithstanding.
As for the exam today.... We arrived at LAX early this morning. Far too early for this guy. Before we ever got to the gate, I went the wrong way twice and had to be called back to the "straight and narrow" by Josh. For some reason he finds my being directionally challenged very amusing. Finally reaching the gate, we decided to look for something to help wake us up, but the only place open was Starbucks. Neither of us are coffee drinkers (ruins the taste of water), but we did find some vanilla bean thing that was basically a very expensive milk shake. And delicious, I might add. We sat down facing all the other passengers and somehow (still a mystery to me) I managed to pour half of my drink all over my coat, and down my leg. While Josh was fighting to stay in his seat, completely overcome by hysteria, I went to look for napkins ... all the while my drink was all over the chair and floor. There was absolutely no way to look cool under the circumstances! I was imagining being overrun with ants and flies before arriving home this evening. Josh said I was going to smell like baby vomit. He has a strange sense of humor.
I hope the wrong turns and the spilled drink were not omens of my performance on the exam! I have no idea how I did on the exam. Josh thinks he did okay. I have a very guarded optimism that I may have passed, but will not know for at least three weeks. Thanks for your prayers and concerns.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Convergence?
Many years ago I participated in a year-long small group meeting with five other preachers and a facilitator. We met one day a month for the entire day. It was an especially rewarding venture.Late in the year, our facilitator spent the day talking with us about a concept in ministry known as convergence. I'd never heard the term, but then I never went to seminary either, which is where they probably talk about convergence.
It's the moment in ministry when everything comes together and your focus is sharper than ever. Your preaching seems to hit a high. Your relationships with your church are at a peak and you know without a doubt that this was what you were meant to do with your life. Convergence usually occurs after a long tenure with a church and the preacher has significant life experiences of walking in and by faith. I figured I'd probably never experience convergence ... few preachers do. But it was an intriguing idea and something to look forward to.
My desire was to not preach a day longer than I should, nor to leave it a day sooner than I should. The only problem with that desire is figuring out just how to determine that day! After all, some of the worst years (from my perspective ... in reality, a lot of God-stuff was going on behind the scenes) of my life were spent with a church where the preacher could and should have retired with dignity and integrity and he didn't. It almost ruined that church. In the meantime, I'm preparing myself for a third career in the final chapter(s) of my life. The funeral business.
This past weekend, I was in a discussion with friends ... they were asking what my plans were ... when I told them, K. said, "It would be a shame for you to stop preaching, you're just now beginning to get good at it!" It was not a sarcastic statement. I, too, feel like the past couple of years my preaching has taken on a new energy and focus: Christ only. After 30 years of preaching, I'm finally starting to see what Paul meant when he said he preached Christ only and Him crucified. For some reason we spend a lot of time feeding issues ... go figure?
So I've thought a lot about K's comment. To the point it's interrupting my much-needed study time for this exam coming up tomorrow. But I can't help but wonder: Could it be I'm working on a career change right on the threshold of convergence?
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Nana News
After waiting all day Saturday to go into surgery (see previous post), Jan's mother - affectionately known as Nana -- was taken into surgery late that afternoon. Apparently the break was not as bad as it could have been. Rather than a full hip replacement, the doctor was able to pin the hip. She tolerated the surgery well and is now facing rehab and recovery.
To those who read this in time to pray for her, thanks so much for your prayers.
To those who read this in time to pray for her, thanks so much for your prayers.
I don't typically post prayer requests, but am doing so today. Over the coming few days, there are a few situations in my life for which I covet your prayers:
My mother-in-law fell on Friday night and suffered a broken hip. She's 82 and when these things start happening at that age, it's often the beginning of the end. I've had two doctors (if you consider a chiropractor a legitimite doctor, which I do as our chiro is my primary physician) and two EMTs tell me that older people seldom fall and break a hip ... that they fall because their hip broke. She is in surgery as I write this. Her name is Norma.
For my friend flying into Long Beach on Tuesday, another flying in on Friday (never flown), two more flying in on Saturday, and a final flight for a first time flyer on Monday. We just need a lot of sober pilots and angelic protection over the next week!
For myself and Son as we fly to Sacramento and back on Wednesday ... that we have a safe flight. I don't seek prayers that I do good on an exam as it's my responsibility to prepare for the exam more than God's responsibility to work some miracle or magic. After all, he did give me a functional (rather, semi-functional most days) mind to use for such life events. But flying is beyond my ability to control!
For friends coming out to SoCal for Pepperdine lectureship ... that they will behave and act like adults!!! Seriously, for God's blessing on our experience together. It will be a first for a couple of the guys and we want it to be the blessing to them that it was to us ... before we started blowing off the classes and just hanging out! (I'm kidding)
Look for me Thursday morning to read what a state funeral director's exam is all about. Should be better than morning coffee to get your day started.
Thanks for stopping by and thanks for your prayer support.
My mother-in-law fell on Friday night and suffered a broken hip. She's 82 and when these things start happening at that age, it's often the beginning of the end. I've had two doctors (if you consider a chiropractor a legitimite doctor, which I do as our chiro is my primary physician) and two EMTs tell me that older people seldom fall and break a hip ... that they fall because their hip broke. She is in surgery as I write this. Her name is Norma.
For my friend flying into Long Beach on Tuesday, another flying in on Friday (never flown), two more flying in on Saturday, and a final flight for a first time flyer on Monday. We just need a lot of sober pilots and angelic protection over the next week!
For myself and Son as we fly to Sacramento and back on Wednesday ... that we have a safe flight. I don't seek prayers that I do good on an exam as it's my responsibility to prepare for the exam more than God's responsibility to work some miracle or magic. After all, he did give me a functional (rather, semi-functional most days) mind to use for such life events. But flying is beyond my ability to control!
For friends coming out to SoCal for Pepperdine lectureship ... that they will behave and act like adults!!! Seriously, for God's blessing on our experience together. It will be a first for a couple of the guys and we want it to be the blessing to them that it was to us ... before we started blowing off the classes and just hanging out! (I'm kidding)
Look for me Thursday morning to read what a state funeral director's exam is all about. Should be better than morning coffee to get your day started.
Thanks for stopping by and thanks for your prayer support.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Faith
RW: I'm not blogging ... I'm linking!Click HERE to link to an amazing story of this amazing dog! When you get to the link (which is a blogspot), click on the "Play" button in the middle of the picture.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Juanita is such an encourager. Always smiling in spite of her health issues. Since I've known her (since 1993), she has been on dialysis ... had open-heart bypass surgery ... suffered four strokes ... and fallen with a broken hip. Twice. In spite of that, on her "off days" (when not taking dialysis) she would be out visiting the "sick and afflicted!" And she was in worse shape than most of those she visited.
Her smile is infectuous. She can give you a "look" and not say a word and you kne\ow exactly what's on her mind, good or bad. She is a hard-core fundamentalist in her theology and whenever I say something that raises a red flag in her heart, she has this sort of gutteral groan that can be heard by people one or two pews in front of her. Bud, a former elder, says he's heard that groan several times in my tenure at Long Beach! Say it ain't so.
Several years ago we had a guest at church, visiting this area because her daughter had been admitted to the hospital with terminal cancer ... and her daughter was just visiting out here as well. The daughter died within a few weeks. The mom stayed to care for her daughter and shared her situation with our church on a Sunday night. Janice and I went to the hospital almost immediately to see how we could help and the mom told us a lady by the name of Juanita had already been there, taken laundry home with her, and promised to be back the next day.
That's Juanita! Potentially intimidating to a preacher who doesn't visit anywhere near as much as Juanita does.
Dorothy, on the other hand, has been confined to her bed in the 13 years I've known her. She suffers from severe scoliosis that makes her spine look like a "S" and keeps her in constant pain. In spite of her pain and confinement to the bed, she is always smiling and always encouraging those who visit her. She loves chocolate - not just to eat, but to share with others.
Dorothy's been a widow for many years. Never had children. Pretty much alone in this world other than her church family. A few years ago when she read in the church bulletin that the ladies were studying through a certain book, she had one brought to her so she could study along with them though she would never attend a class.
Every time we go to visit either of these ladies, we come away feeling blessed and encouraged ... which is why this week has been a tough week. Both Juanita and Dorothy died. We had a wonderful celebration of Juanita's life yesterday. Dorothy will be cremated and her remains scattered at sea. We will have a brief memorial for her on Sunday, April 30.
One side comment: Many years ago a generous man left several hundred thousand dollars to our church to be used for Senior's needs. We've been very careful not to spend that money for any other need. But when Juanita's family had no money to pay for funeral expenses (and I had the mortuary discount it as much as possible), this money gifted for ministry was used to pay her expenses in full. What an impact on Juanita's children who are not associated with a church family. What a beautiful way to be remembered.
If I played the lottery (and I don't ... yet) and I ever won, I would give a huge portion of it to be used in service to others. The rest I'd spend at Guitar Center! Just kidding ... on the GC part, that is.
[Note: Because of so many interruptions and this California funeral director's exam looming over me, I finally just took some official vacation time to study. Now I won't feel guilty for being unavailable. And they give me far more vacation time in a year than I ever use, so why not? So-o-o-o-o-o ... this is my last blog until after the FD exam on Wednesday, April 26.]
Her smile is infectuous. She can give you a "look" and not say a word and you kne\ow exactly what's on her mind, good or bad. She is a hard-core fundamentalist in her theology and whenever I say something that raises a red flag in her heart, she has this sort of gutteral groan that can be heard by people one or two pews in front of her. Bud, a former elder, says he's heard that groan several times in my tenure at Long Beach! Say it ain't so.
Several years ago we had a guest at church, visiting this area because her daughter had been admitted to the hospital with terminal cancer ... and her daughter was just visiting out here as well. The daughter died within a few weeks. The mom stayed to care for her daughter and shared her situation with our church on a Sunday night. Janice and I went to the hospital almost immediately to see how we could help and the mom told us a lady by the name of Juanita had already been there, taken laundry home with her, and promised to be back the next day.
That's Juanita! Potentially intimidating to a preacher who doesn't visit anywhere near as much as Juanita does.
Dorothy, on the other hand, has been confined to her bed in the 13 years I've known her. She suffers from severe scoliosis that makes her spine look like a "S" and keeps her in constant pain. In spite of her pain and confinement to the bed, she is always smiling and always encouraging those who visit her. She loves chocolate - not just to eat, but to share with others.
Dorothy's been a widow for many years. Never had children. Pretty much alone in this world other than her church family. A few years ago when she read in the church bulletin that the ladies were studying through a certain book, she had one brought to her so she could study along with them though she would never attend a class.
Every time we go to visit either of these ladies, we come away feeling blessed and encouraged ... which is why this week has been a tough week. Both Juanita and Dorothy died. We had a wonderful celebration of Juanita's life yesterday. Dorothy will be cremated and her remains scattered at sea. We will have a brief memorial for her on Sunday, April 30.
One side comment: Many years ago a generous man left several hundred thousand dollars to our church to be used for Senior's needs. We've been very careful not to spend that money for any other need. But when Juanita's family had no money to pay for funeral expenses (and I had the mortuary discount it as much as possible), this money gifted for ministry was used to pay her expenses in full. What an impact on Juanita's children who are not associated with a church family. What a beautiful way to be remembered.
If I played the lottery (and I don't ... yet) and I ever won, I would give a huge portion of it to be used in service to others. The rest I'd spend at Guitar Center! Just kidding ... on the GC part, that is.
[Note: Because of so many interruptions and this California funeral director's exam looming over me, I finally just took some official vacation time to study. Now I won't feel guilty for being unavailable. And they give me far more vacation time in a year than I ever use, so why not? So-o-o-o-o-o ... this is my last blog until after the FD exam on Wednesday, April 26.]
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
The Old Phone
Sometimes we can't win for losing! Janice loves to buy gadgets and stupid toys for the kid's Christmas stockings and Easter baskets. For the most part, the kids would try to play with them only to have them either not work or quickly break, or they'd just put them aside and never pay attention to them again. We'd eventually toss them or give them to other children. Having just spent close to $400 on Jessica's car, I didn't mind buying Easter baskets (actually a dog, monkey and duck basekts) for them but when Janice started picking out some of those "items" I suggested maybe we just stick with things they would actually enjoy. Gum. Chocolate. Snack items. Quite honestly, with Son and Fiance being in their mid-twenties and Daughter recently turning 21, I really didn't think they'd even care about an Easter basket. Against her nature and better mother judgment, she agreed. Easter morning, the first thing Son told me was, "Why didn't you get us any of the fun stuff?" I'm giving the Easter basket shopping and "fun stuff" back to Janice next year.
I'm spending this week studying every spare moment for my funeral director's exam next Wednesday. Don't know that I'll blog every day this week ... after all, how much do you want to know about mortuary law, which is my world right now? A friend sent the following story to me and I thought I'd pass it along. Enjoy!
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.
My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.
I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, please" I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information."
"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. "Isn't your mother home?" came the question."Nobody's home but me," I blubbered."Are you bleeding?" the voice asked."No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.""Can you open the icebox?" she asked.I said I could. "Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.
After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Wayne always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please.""Information," said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?" I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.
Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well."Information."
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"
I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me.I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister. "Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered,
"Information." I asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" she said. "Yes, a very old friend," I answered."I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne?" "Yes." I answered.
"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called.
Let me read it to you."The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in.
He'll know what I mean."
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today? Lifting you on eagle's wings, may you find the joy and peace you long for.
Life is a journey ... not a guided tour.
I'm spending this week studying every spare moment for my funeral director's exam next Wednesday. Don't know that I'll blog every day this week ... after all, how much do you want to know about mortuary law, which is my world right now? A friend sent the following story to me and I thought I'd pass it along. Enjoy!
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.
My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.
I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, please" I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information."
"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. "Isn't your mother home?" came the question."Nobody's home but me," I blubbered."Are you bleeding?" the voice asked."No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.""Can you open the icebox?" she asked.I said I could. "Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.
After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Wayne always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please.""Information," said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?" I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.
Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well."Information."
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"
I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me.I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister. "Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered,
"Information." I asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" she said. "Yes, a very old friend," I answered."I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne?" "Yes." I answered.
"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called.
Let me read it to you."The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in.
He'll know what I mean."
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today? Lifting you on eagle's wings, may you find the joy and peace you long for.
Life is a journey ... not a guided tour.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Reflections on Easter
Growing up in deep south churches of Christ ... conservative thinking churches of Christ ... we were never allowed to think in terms of Easter as a religious holiday. Only people in those pesky "denominations" celebrated Easter. We, on the other hand, kept the purity of the Christian doctrine handed down by inspiration. (Sarcasm intended) We knew it was Easter because most everyone wore new clothes on that particular Sunday, but the "E"-word was never mentioned on church property and certainly not from the pulpit! After all, and again unlike those pesky denominations, we take communion every Sunday and isn't that what resurrection is all about? (Again, sarcasm intended)So even to this day, I have a bit of ambiguity about Easter. Which is difficult being a preacher. I was bombarded for weeks with ads on how to make this day a super-day of evangelistic outreach and seeker-senstive worship. There is a church near-by that is renting a huge outdoor tennis center to accommodate their thousands of worshippers. Preaching Now e-zine encouraged me to plan extra services (as many as needed) well in advance for the onslaught of guests. As a matter of fact, no self-respecting pastor would fail to spend hours in preparation for this day. Huge advertising budgets are required. Special programs. Egg hunts. "Easter Bunny" appearances. You-name-it ... nothing is too much for Easter.
Sorry, but that just hasn't been my experience ... and I think I've been somewhat deprived of something rich and meaningful. Not the egg hunts or flash and glitz, but the focus on resurrection when much of the Christian community world-wide is focusing on resurrection, and the gratitude that flows from such a focus. Which is why I am grateful that this particular church (Long Beach) allows us to not only acknowlege the day, but even plan a special sunrise service for the day, which wasn't popular with everyone.
However, I introduced myself to a young man, Shawn, who told me he didn't sleep last night. I told him neither did I, but I was awake because I couldn't wind down from the day and I was already anticipating all I had to do on Sunday morning. Then I added, "But I doubt you were awake in anticipation of a sunrise service." He replied, "Oh, yes I was. I've been looking forward to this all week!" From a teenager, even!
Granted, getting up at 4:30 isn't high on my list on any day. Spending hours setting up on Saturday and then taking all the sound equipment back inside only to set it up again at 5am is no fun, either. Our time together this morning wasn't anything spectacular. No angels flying or Jesus ascending into the sky via actors, cables and careful choreography. We didn't have an onslaught of visitors, though we did have a few. There was no special musical program planned with orchestra and chorus, but the praise team was wonderful. But God provided a sunrise that was more spectacular than any program anyone pulled together anywhere!
Our focus was on communing with the risen Christ and gather as a family that loves one another and we will rejoice that the tomb was and is empty! We set eight tables around the permiter and had people gather in groups to actually commune in fellowship rather than isolation. It was more like a meal than a ritual. We shared our lives and prayed with one another. I don't know how many chairs we set out (around 140), but they were all full, even the front row! And though it makes for a LONG day (I'm writing this at 9am and I'm ready to go to bed), I'm already looking forward to next year when we will gather at sunrise to worship the Son who rose for us.
Friday, April 14, 2006
A $4,334.33 Whopper, Jr.
Did you hear the news from Palmdale, CA., about George Beane's mother of all dinners? He ordered two Whopper Jr's and a couple of kid's burgers from the Burger King drive-through, using his debit card to pay for the meals.The cashier forgot that she'd already entered the $4.33 charge and punched in the numbers again without clearing the first entry. The charge went through without a hitch and George Beane found himself with an empty bank account and a receipt for $4,334.33!I think that may qualify him for the having purchased the most expensive meal ever offered by Burger King! I'm sure there have been more costly meals among humanity, but I doubt there was a more expensive one purchased at a drive-through fast food joint.
I can think of two meals that were, ultimately, far more expensive: One was a simple piece of fruit in a garden in the middle east when Eve and Adam literally ate themselves out of house and home. The cost of that meal has been handed down from generation to generation. We are reminded of that meal each time the Holy Spirit convicts us of sin.
The other would have been in an upper room, also in the middle east, the night before Jesus was crucified. The difference being that you and I actually profit eternally from the meal in the upper room and the events that followed. We remember that meal every time the Holy Spirit comforts us with grace!
It would be wise for us to remember that the choices we make in life may result in a bill far greater than our ability to pay. Maybe even more than a Whopper, Jr. in Palmdale, California!
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Seminar for the Insane
I can think of few things more boring ... no, I'm wrong. Let me rephrase that: I can think of nothing more boring than an eight hour seminar on mortuary law! But that's what Son and I endured last Thursday, along with about 100 other fortunate individuals. In the dungeon of Rose Hills Mortuary. No A/C. Stuffy. Hot. Uncomfortable seats. No leg room. Surrounded by morticians! The successful endurance of such a seminar should legally define brain death!
However, a necessary evil on the road to licensure as a funeral director is knowing the law and being able to pass the state exam. We learned such life changing laws as certain statements on certain documents must be printed in 8pt BOLD type (or, in some of the more exciting cases, in 10pt bold type)! I must confess that not everything was as exciting as font size during the day, but that may have been one of the highlights of the seminar. Until we actually pass the state exam, we must pass this seminar exam each year. We both passed again this year. Son did better than father by 6 points. I was just happy to pass at all. By the time we took the test, I no longer cared! But passing the test renewed my confidence to forge ahead....
The exam we'll take in just over a week consists of 100 multiple choice questions designed by funeral directors who passed the exam and now want to make it more difficult for the next guy or gal to pass. Each question is intentionally phrased to confuse and throw you off. Joy! If the questions in a given category have been deemed statistically difficult, then one only has to get 70% of those questions correct. However, if in a given category the questions have been deemed to be statistically easy, then one must answer 80% of those questions correctly. I faintly remember all that from undergrad and graduate classes in psychological testing and statistics. I should have pursued that line of psychology and become an arch-evil test designer!
Along with my renewed confidence to forge ahead, I also came away from the seminar with a renewed disdain for lawyers and politicians who spend their lives making our lives more complicated, all the while attempting to convince us they are actually on our side! If all goes as planned (not to mentioned prayed and hoped), some day I shall have the privilege of directing the funeral service and burial of some of those lawyers and politicians! And then life will appear, for the moment, to have some semblance of justice.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Poll Worker, Part Two
Tuesday was an incredibly long day for a preacher who is used to working around his own schedule (for the most part). The day began with an absolutely gorgeous sunrise. Since we're having an outdoor Easter sunrise service, it was good to at least know what to expect and about what time to expect it. Last year, our Sunrise service (6am) was about 20 minutes after sunrise. This year should hit it about right.Then the day went downhill from there. Our poll inspector knew nothing about her job. We all pulled together to get the job done, though. Not having done this before, we had to rely heavily on the instructions (something any self-respecting male avoids at all costs) as to what was required on the tables, in the voting booths, and on the walls, both outside and inside. It literally took the four of us most of an hour to properly post all of the required notices (inside and outside) and in 8 different languages so that every voter could see what different languages look like when posted on a wall.
But the ineptness of our inspector shinned the brightest as we were filling out the post-election paperwork. Fortunately, we only had to do it in English. While tallying up the votes on a worksheet, she was to put several totals in several different boxes on the sheet and then add certain boxes. She had numbers in four boxes. Box five was to be a total of boxes 1 thorugh 4. Instructions: "Add boxes 1 - 4 and write total in box five." She looked at four literal boxes on the table that were to be used for returning ballots and counted those boxes! I'm pretty slow at math, but she made me look like the genius.
Polls were open at 7am. Closed at 8pm. Our first voter came in about 8:30. Just before 6pm, a husband, wife and daughter came in to vote. It was the only time all day we had three people voting at once! We literally went an hour or longer with no one voting. With a roster of just over 400 voters in our precint, we had 54 votes cast. That's about 12% of registered voters. That's also pathetic.
I kept my commitment of civic insanity and shall never work a poll again. But I do have a great sense of appreciation for those who will work the next election.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Poll Worker
In a moment of civic insanity, I agreed to work as an election clerk today. It's Tuesday, April 11, and city elections are being held. We're voting for mayor, city attorney, school board member, and a couple of other lesser political offices. And for some reason that should be obvious to city authorities, they can't seem to interest enough citizens into working polls. So they called and begged and in a moment of weakness, I agreed to work.In that working the polls is not a complicated proces, we are required to attend a two-hour seminar just to make it confusing! We must also take a 10-question exam to show we weren't confused. One lady in our seminar has worked the polls every year since Eisenhower was president! I can't decide if I admire her or think she's stupid and has no life. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.
I've been to the polls. I've watched poll workers at work. Usually two people sit at a table with a very official looking book in front of them. This book is all but sacred as it contains the names and addresses of every registered voter in that precint. So here is the process as I've observed it over the years:
You walk in, stand in line if there is a line.At that point, you go to either a voting booth or a line leading to said booth. You eventually mark your ballot (unless you are voting in Florida, where you are expected to do the humanly impossible task of punching a hole in a thin piece of paper with a pointed object) and then hand it to another poll clerk who takes your ballot and, IN PLAIN SIGHT, tears off the stub and drops the ballot into the sealed ballot box while returning the stub to you. He or she then gives you a sticker, printed at government expense of who knows how many millions of dollars, that proclaims you have voted! You are free to leave or free to just hang around and watch others vote. If you do the latter, you are then officially known as a "poll watcher" and anyone can be a poll watcher, though I don't know why anyone would want to be a poll watcher.
Remain quiet so as not to disturb voters.
They ask your name, you tell them your name.
They find your name on the sacred list and ask if that is you.
If so, you sign your name and then print your name. If not, you go back to step three.
They mark a line through your name and hand you a ballot.
Now that one is a voter, he or she will eventually return home to watch the outcome, which in my case in California, means my vote was far too conservative or politically incorrect and my candidate lost by a landslide!
So why would I not want to be a poll worker again? Who wants to be somewhere other than in bed at 6:30 in the morning?!
If it's election day where you are, get out and vote. Make a poll-worker's day by showing up. Otherwise it's going to be a very long day for us.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Only God!
This picture was taken May 14, 2005 about 50 miles west of Bakersfield (trust me, you'd never see this beauty in Bakersfield!) by some lady by the name of Barbara Mathews. Though this bit of information means nothing to someone as directionally challenged as I, it is the east side of the Carrizo Plain in the Temblor Range. I think that has something to do with a mountain. I almost get allergies looking at it! Anyway, Mathews appropriately calls it God Spilled the Paint and I thought you could use a bit of beauty from this blog site ... once in a while!
Friday, April 07, 2006
I Don't Like My Dog Right Now
I've enjoyed springtime the past few years because doves have used the framing of the back porch to nest their babies, and I've enjoyed watching the tender care given to the egg and to the newborn chick. This year was no different. I don't know if it was the same dove this year as last, but it was a dove nonetheless. Mom built her nest a few weeks ago and stayed with it day and night. Finally, the egg hatched and we saw glimpses of the baby ... which concerned me because the porch was damaged back in January when a tree fell on it, and about the time the egg hatched, we were having the porch covering replaced. I couldn't help but wonder if the work would disrupt nature' work in progress.My friend who was replacing the porch was concerned as well and was very careful not to disturb the nest. Though the mother flew away and made some noises that seemed less than complimentary, she survived the construction and Tuesday morning I saw mom and baby checking out the neighborhood from a nest-perspective. About an hour later, I came through the back yard and noticed the baby had flown from the nest to a swing under the porch. Mom was nowhere in sight. Nor was our dog, Chipper. The young bird flew to a nearby lemon tree and perched there for a while.
When I came out of the house a few minutes later, it flew from the tree to the driveway gate, hit the fencing and fell to the ground, somewhat dazed. I looked around for Chipper just in time to see her appear from nowhere and run straight for the bird. Before I could even mouth the words to stop her, she had the baby bird in her jaws. As I screamed, "Chipper, NO!" she looked at me and dropped the bird ... sulking away wondering (I'm sure) what she'd done wrong. After all, aren't retrievers bred to retrieve birds? Isn't there something in her genetic makeup that prompts her to catch birds?
The baby bird moved its head and I saw an eye blink ... then nothing. I left it alone, lying on the concrete in the rain and kept Chipper away to see if it would come around and either limp away or, even better, fly away. When it didn't move, I picked it up with a piece of cardboard and noticed the injury from Chipper's massive jaws was fatal. I'll spare you the gory details, but something within me wanted to punish Chipper, but for what ... being a dog?
God's world is amazing and marvelous. But sometimes when creatures act "by nature" it can be sad to watch. I'm sure the view from heaven must be somewhat similar when I act "by nature" rather than being led "by the Spirit." I wish Chipper didn't act like such a ... dog! I wish the baby bird had lived to enjoy flight and life more than just a couple of hours. I wish I would enjoy the life God has given to me by grace more than I tend to do when my flesh is so weak.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
We Can Stop Praying
Prayer doesn't work!At least intercessory prayer for the sick, when prayed by a stranger, doesn't work. Or so we would be led to believe by the latest medical research. (Click here to read the AP article.) So I suppose we can now put aside the what, 3 - 5 minutes spent in prayer each day for the sick, and spend that time doing something more productive. Something that can be measured by $2.4 million studies from people who, for the most part, deny the existence of God.
For those who don't want to read the article, here's a summary: The Templeton Foundation (a group that funds research into science and religion) funded a study involving 1,800 patients in six different medical centers. The patients were divided (not surgically) into three groups, with Christians praying for certain patients to have a "successful surgery with a quick, healthy recovery and no complications." Well, duh! There's part - if not most - of the problem ... no one used the phrase "be with the sick and afflicted" nor did we see the phrase "guide, guard, and direct" anywhere in the study with reference to the "hands that do the surgery." C'mon, if you're going to research prayer, you gotta at least use the God-ordained phrases! (Sarcasm intended) Anyway, the study found that those patients who were prayed for did not have complication-free recovery any more so than those not lifted in prayer. According to the research, those receiving prayer actually had slightly more complications! Fifty-nine percent of those prayed for had complications as opposed to 52% of those who were told complications were just a possibility.
Prayer for healing has always been a tricky thing to nail down, unless you are a televangelist and milk it for money. If this study revealed anything, it may have revealed that medical researchers and participants possibly don't understand prayer! It is not a way to invoke divine power at our whim. Prayer is intimate communication with our Creator. Dr. David Stevens, executive director of the Christian Medical and Dental Association, said: "Do we control God through prayer? Theologians would say absolutely not. God decides sometimes to intervene, and sometimes not."
Maybe the greatest lesson learned from this study is a simple lesson: God is not obligated to participate in research studies!
In the meantime, if I'm having surgery, please keep me in your prayers. And if you're having surgery, let me know and I'll pray for you. And whatever the outcome, God is no less God!
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Neanderthal Praise Band
Neanderthal Praise BandI saw that cartoon and found it funny. Reminded me of a T-shirt I gave our worship leader. Looking over the director's music stand to the band, you see on his "music" the notation: "Wave arms till music stops!"
[Randy, you might consider this name for your "praise band with no name." Envision it in lights ... on posters ... on web sites (w/ elder approval, of course): IN CONCERT (insert date / time) -THE ARLINGTON NEANDERTHAL PRAISE BAND ... It has potential.]
In light of the several blogs posted in this community about the Nancy Grace CNN "interview" and the caustic remarks made toward churches of Christ, you would probably appreciate something Joel Maners had to say in his blog. I don't know Joel, but I thanked him for his blog and I sent an email to the Baptist preacher who labeled us a "borderline cult." You might want to do the same.
I'm not suggesting anyone owes this Baptist preacher an apology for how we've been perceived or, perhaps more correctly, how some of the extremists among us have presented churches of Christ. I wouldn't want to be a part of that "church of Christ," though in the past I was one of them.
I thought he might want to hear from those within the churches of Christ who are not legalistic, patternists who think "we are the only saved." I thought maybe he'd like to hear from some who would actually refrain from condemning him simply because he is not "one of us." I thought maybe he'd like to hear from people who are just as dependent upon grace for salvation as he. Maybe I think too much, but you can decide for yourself.
If the link sends you to his Joel's site but not a blog related to the CNN piece, then go to his blog dated Tuesday, April 4. It's titled, "I Repent and I'm Sorry."
[Randy, you might consider this name for your "praise band with no name." Envision it in lights ... on posters ... on web sites (w/ elder approval, of course): IN CONCERT (insert date / time) -THE ARLINGTON NEANDERTHAL PRAISE BAND ... It has potential.]
In light of the several blogs posted in this community about the Nancy Grace CNN "interview" and the caustic remarks made toward churches of Christ, you would probably appreciate something Joel Maners had to say in his blog. I don't know Joel, but I thanked him for his blog and I sent an email to the Baptist preacher who labeled us a "borderline cult." You might want to do the same.
I'm not suggesting anyone owes this Baptist preacher an apology for how we've been perceived or, perhaps more correctly, how some of the extremists among us have presented churches of Christ. I wouldn't want to be a part of that "church of Christ," though in the past I was one of them.
I thought he might want to hear from those within the churches of Christ who are not legalistic, patternists who think "we are the only saved." I thought maybe he'd like to hear from some who would actually refrain from condemning him simply because he is not "one of us." I thought maybe he'd like to hear from people who are just as dependent upon grace for salvation as he. Maybe I think too much, but you can decide for yourself.
If the link sends you to his Joel's site but not a blog related to the CNN piece, then go to his blog dated Tuesday, April 4. It's titled, "I Repent and I'm Sorry."
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
S.
In yesterday's blog, I mentioned that S., a homeless man, had returned for a second week to worship with us. What I didn't know is that he'd been here one other Sunday (while I was in Arlington). S. came in through a side door and quickly took a seat on the same pew (where did we come up with that word for a bench?) where his friends would sit. He avoided eye contact and tried to look invisible. Actually, he looked as if he'd been up in the mountains trapping animals, and I don't say that to be funny or sarcastic, he just had a very rough look about him ... except for his eyes. His eyes reflected a kindness in spite of his life on the streets.Several people came to where he was to introduce themselves and welcome him. When I talked with him he told me his hands were hurting from arthritis. I told him I was encouraged to see him back. S. was suffering from Parkinson's Disease and was trying to get into a rehab program to get off of alcohol. I don't judge him for that ... I've never been on the streets like that. I've never been in such despair. No family. Few friends. Entering this strange world of strangers called church.
For some reason, I thought about S. that day - things such as, "I wonder if he has a relationship with the Lord?" (I could have asked. Why didn't I ask?) ... "We should have invited him to go with us to lunch." ... "I wonder if he felt like a stranger or like a welcome guest?" (We play a huge role in how we make people feel.) For some reason, he was just on my mind Sunday afternoon. Oh, well ... I can always find him through T. and his wife if I really want to pursue these thoughts. There's a good chance he will come back next week, I'll be sure to probe a little deeper into how we might can help him out.
Monday morning I got a call from D. (T.'s wife) and I could tell she was quite upset. Slowly she told me the news that S. had gone to the ER Sunday evening and died around midnight. They think maybe a heart attack. No one knew his full name. No one knew anything about his family, except that he had a brother and he's probably in jail somewhere. No one knew his birthday, other than last year he was given a radio for his birthday (sometime in November) and it was later stolen from him.
S. seemed to never get a break in life. He did tell T. and D. that years ago he was baptized in a four-square church up north somewhere. At some point in his life, he had decided he wanted to identify with Jesus. I can only hope that in these past few and final weeks of his life S. was making his way back to Jesus. Or that maybe he'd never left Jesus at all ... he was just searching for some of his family!
D.'s phone call saddened me.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Sunday was such a refreshing day for me on many levels, and in spite of losing an hour of much needed sleep! I'd requested of our worship leader to use a certain song before the sermon. A song that I love, but has a very high tenor part. The praise team had been working on it for a couple of weeks. We sang it last week on Sunday night, but it's different when accompanined by guitars.Jim, our tenor singer (and one of our shepherds) told me last week, "I can hardly hit some of those notes!" That was okay with me since it was Jim singing and not Greg. But Saturday night he called and told me he would not be available Sunday, would I fill in for him as tenor. During rehearsal Sunday morning, I requested a moment of silence ... to curse Jim! Had I known I was singing tenor, I would requested another song.
B. was standing outside drinking his coffee alone when I came out of the church office. I introduced myself to him and learned he was a 20-year veteran airline pilot, arriving in Long Beach that morning for three months of training in Los Angeles. Found us in the phone book and decided he had time to make it to worship. I invited him to go inside with me to meet some of our family. As it turned out, he had been inside and just about everyone I introduced to B. had earlier introduced themselves. That's always a good sign.
We took B. to lunch and got to know him even better. Wonderful Christian man from deep in the heart of Texas. About as deep into the Bible-belt as a person can be. When we finally got our meal and started conversing, one of his first comments: "You guys are a lot more progressive than back in _______, Texas!" That usually raises a red flag and leads to some degree of confrontation. I wasn't sure just how to respond to that, but as it turns out, he was very gracious and non-judgmental over issues of opinion. If only we could all be so non-divisive in matters of grace. And the "progressiveness" of our church? A praise team on stage! At his home church, they use a "stealth" praise team. The team has microphones, but dares not appear on stage! We were there a few years ago. We have funny notions, we religious folks, about what distresses our Father. He even volunteered the information that his brother preaches for a First Christian Church, which opened up further discussion and appreciation for one another.
With rare exceptions, I love Sundays. I love being with my family. I love studing together in Bible class. I love the worship. I love the communion devotional by a man celebrating 19 months of sobriety and giving Jesus all the glory. I love sharing the Word in sermon (I began my series on Romans and received more than the usual comments). I love the fellowship before and after. I love the support and affirmation of our shepherds. I love the freedom I have to teach as the Holy Spirit reveals to me through the Word, with no expectation of adherance to some orthodoxy or tradition that has been raised to the level of inspired doctrine. I love the generosity of this family and the support given whenever asked to share with others. I love that fact that God usually graces us with guests and we have the opportunity to share His love. I love the fact that S., a homeless man, was here again this morning. A number of people made sure he was made to feel welcome. A family took him to lunch.
Five of us spent an additional two hours rehearsing for our next Sunday Celebration! These fine musicians are such an encouragement to me. We've moved from getting together and leaving exhausted and frustrated, to now getting together and enjoying the fruit of those earlier hours. We're actually beginning to meld into a decent praise band.
God's family!!! When it's good, it's really good! And when it's not so good ... well, we've all been there. I'm grateful for the years in Long Beach that have been so very good.
