It is Monday. It rained some today. Thus, it was a rainy day Monday. According to the Carpenters, "They always get me down." Being a pastor can get you down, if you let it.
Today, I have heard several personal problems, tried to clean the mass of papers off my desk, visited the hospital, called on some shutins, visited with a family in preparation for a funeral, ministered to a discouraged couple, contacted unchurched families whose children visited our VBS last week, and now reflect upon the day- not so much tired as exhilarated.
Days like today tend to run in shifts. There will be a lull, and then there will intensive ministry demands. I often think of the days when I worked the parts counter in a car dealership. We would have periods when we stood idly with nothing to do. Then it seems customers would come out of the woodwork and we couldn't move fast enough. It was either full throttle or slow idle.
So I call today a "pastoral day." It was a day full of pastoral ministry and witnessing opportunities. It was a day of heartbreaks, hugs, and prayers. I struggle with a popular image being propounded by some megachurch pastors and potential role models. I call it the pastor/ceo. I have to agree with John Piper, "Brothers, we are not professionals."
Today was a day when I realized again I am doing exactly what God called me to do. It was so much so that I am glad I am a shepherd, not a CEO. Call me what you wish, but "pastor" is what I like best.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Great Souled Men
One of my heroes is George Washington Truett, one time pastor of the First Baptist Church of Dallas, TX. In fact, I know few from the past or present who do not respect this great preacher and Baptist statesman, save for J. Frank Norris, who attempted to rattle and shake his state of mind.
Truett once preached a sermon entitled, "Baptists And Religious Liberty." Today it is considered a classic treatise on a Baptist view of church and state. He, though being dead, still speaks.
My point is simply, "Where have men like Truett gone?" Where are our great pastor/leaders like Herschel Hobbs, and R.G. Lee? What happens as now leaders such as Adrian Rogers are gone, and others are retiring or near retirement? Why do we not have such great souled men today? Is the nature of our culture so divided and partisan that we are beyond producing leaders who somehow rise above the fray and are able to speak to an issue in such a way that brings people together instead of creates more division?
A couple of years ago, I asked one of our Convention leaders this very question. His response was a bit telling. He said, "You know, I was just discussing this with some other Convention leaders. They don't know either."
Apparently the sentiment is shared outside the church. Today I saw a bumper sticker that lamented, "I miss Reagan."
We need more great souled men.
In the words of Rudyard Kipling:
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Truett once preached a sermon entitled, "Baptists And Religious Liberty." Today it is considered a classic treatise on a Baptist view of church and state. He, though being dead, still speaks.
My point is simply, "Where have men like Truett gone?" Where are our great pastor/leaders like Herschel Hobbs, and R.G. Lee? What happens as now leaders such as Adrian Rogers are gone, and others are retiring or near retirement? Why do we not have such great souled men today? Is the nature of our culture so divided and partisan that we are beyond producing leaders who somehow rise above the fray and are able to speak to an issue in such a way that brings people together instead of creates more division?
A couple of years ago, I asked one of our Convention leaders this very question. His response was a bit telling. He said, "You know, I was just discussing this with some other Convention leaders. They don't know either."
Apparently the sentiment is shared outside the church. Today I saw a bumper sticker that lamented, "I miss Reagan."
We need more great souled men.
In the words of Rudyard Kipling:
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Saturday, June 16, 2007
"They Were Almost (Home),..."
"...but out of darkness appeared the train." said the father of a 12 year young lady who was killed Thursday in Baytown, Texas along with 4 other teens. Two other boys miraculously survived. The father arrived at the accident site after discovering his daughter was not in her room and hearing a loud crash. He arrived at the accident site just in time time to see rescuers take her lifeless body out of the wreck.
The girl, Loral Moyers, had been warned by her father that very evening concerning several ground rules for the summer, among them bringing the computer to him by 10:30 at night so she would not spend all night on MySpace.
He had no idea that she had been seeing two other boys and planned on sneaking out that very night.
The tragedy occurred when a stalled train blocked an intersection in the night. The intersection where it was stopped was not well marked or lit. The group of teens had somehow commandeered a Jeep and were out joyriding. They were almost home when the driver, apparently not seeing the stopped train, collided with with it, shearing off its top while the rest of the vehicle continued under the train and ended up in a ditch. Railroad workers were not even aware at the time that the accident had occurred.
The words of the father are quite poignant. They were almost home, yet the train appeared out the darkness.
We make wrong, sinful choices in life. We come to believe that we are getting away with something. We are almost home free. But suddenly, unexpectedly, a train wreck occurs. It comes out of the darkness and out of nowhere. Lives are instantly changed forever.
Some time ago, while watching a reality show featuring paramedics, I heard one of the emergency workers say, "It only takes a split second to change lives forever."
Changed forever. Families will be without children. The lazy, crazy days of summer vacation are marred with terrible sadness. The train came out of the darkness.
A solemn warning to all of us. Life has its trainwrecks, some unavoidable, and some self inflicted. The Bible says, "Your sins will find you out." None of us truly "gets away with anything. The consequences of bad choices and willful sin may be delayed.
But they surely come, like a train out of the darkness.
My heart and my prayers are with those families.
The girl, Loral Moyers, had been warned by her father that very evening concerning several ground rules for the summer, among them bringing the computer to him by 10:30 at night so she would not spend all night on MySpace.
He had no idea that she had been seeing two other boys and planned on sneaking out that very night.
The tragedy occurred when a stalled train blocked an intersection in the night. The intersection where it was stopped was not well marked or lit. The group of teens had somehow commandeered a Jeep and were out joyriding. They were almost home when the driver, apparently not seeing the stopped train, collided with with it, shearing off its top while the rest of the vehicle continued under the train and ended up in a ditch. Railroad workers were not even aware at the time that the accident had occurred.
The words of the father are quite poignant. They were almost home, yet the train appeared out the darkness.
We make wrong, sinful choices in life. We come to believe that we are getting away with something. We are almost home free. But suddenly, unexpectedly, a train wreck occurs. It comes out of the darkness and out of nowhere. Lives are instantly changed forever.
Some time ago, while watching a reality show featuring paramedics, I heard one of the emergency workers say, "It only takes a split second to change lives forever."
Changed forever. Families will be without children. The lazy, crazy days of summer vacation are marred with terrible sadness. The train came out of the darkness.
A solemn warning to all of us. Life has its trainwrecks, some unavoidable, and some self inflicted. The Bible says, "Your sins will find you out." None of us truly "gets away with anything. The consequences of bad choices and willful sin may be delayed.
But they surely come, like a train out of the darkness.
My heart and my prayers are with those families.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
The 2007 SBC
I didn't make the Southern Baptist Convention meeting in San Antonio this week, but I now wish I had. It is only about a 6 hour drive from here. I have kept up with much of the sessions via streaming internet. The quality is great. You can log on at www.sbc.net to watch the final sessions.
I am also keeping up with events on Southern Baptist blogs. Some have made much of the vice presidental election as a referendum. I agree with the one who said that the crowd who voted apparently did not think so and voted for a favorite son over the missionary son of Adrian Rogers. They apparently did not know who David Rogers was, and were not aware of underlying issues that some bloggers have raised over their nominations and elections. If so, this is a good sign. Those of us who are debating, critiquing, and thinking that all others feel as we do may find ourselves in a tempest in a teapot.
Much has been made of this convention as a referendum on several other issues: Calvinism, Private Prayer Language, or "PPL" as its debaters tend to call it, and extreme fundamentalism vs. a more inclusive fundamentalism. I like what Republican hopeful presidental candidate Mike Huckabee once said about fundamentalism: "I am a fundamentalist, but I'm not mad about anything." Perhaps it is, then, angry fundamentalists vs. fundamentalists who are not angry. The non angry fundamentalists, or "NAFS" appear to be winning.
It all reminds me of a Church History professor who told us many years ago, "History will one day show that the fundamentalists, having won the battle in the SBC, will then turn on each other." He said this a bit over 20 years ago and his prophecy is being fulfilled.
I have heard from the convention floor strong appeals to join together in the essentials and focus on missions and evangelism. I have felt a spirit of prayer eminating from the convention. Good. This is what we need. If keep these things central, our other issues will be worked through.
I need a deeper passion for souls. God, please stir this up in me. Help me to infect my church with the same passion. God change me and change my church. Let us have passion and fire.
I am also keeping up with events on Southern Baptist blogs. Some have made much of the vice presidental election as a referendum. I agree with the one who said that the crowd who voted apparently did not think so and voted for a favorite son over the missionary son of Adrian Rogers. They apparently did not know who David Rogers was, and were not aware of underlying issues that some bloggers have raised over their nominations and elections. If so, this is a good sign. Those of us who are debating, critiquing, and thinking that all others feel as we do may find ourselves in a tempest in a teapot.
Much has been made of this convention as a referendum on several other issues: Calvinism, Private Prayer Language, or "PPL" as its debaters tend to call it, and extreme fundamentalism vs. a more inclusive fundamentalism. I like what Republican hopeful presidental candidate Mike Huckabee once said about fundamentalism: "I am a fundamentalist, but I'm not mad about anything." Perhaps it is, then, angry fundamentalists vs. fundamentalists who are not angry. The non angry fundamentalists, or "NAFS" appear to be winning.
It all reminds me of a Church History professor who told us many years ago, "History will one day show that the fundamentalists, having won the battle in the SBC, will then turn on each other." He said this a bit over 20 years ago and his prophecy is being fulfilled.
I have heard from the convention floor strong appeals to join together in the essentials and focus on missions and evangelism. I have felt a spirit of prayer eminating from the convention. Good. This is what we need. If keep these things central, our other issues will be worked through.
I need a deeper passion for souls. God, please stir this up in me. Help me to infect my church with the same passion. God change me and change my church. Let us have passion and fire.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Remembering Bill, Part 2
Once I had an encounter with Bill that reminds me of a "Looney Tunes" cartoon episode. One of those episodes has a sheepdog and a coyote as the main charaters. They both punch in and out on the job, take lunch a breaks together, but when they are on the job, they are mortal enemies.
At the beginning of the day, they punch in a greet each other:
"Morning Ralph."
Morning, Sam."
After that greeting, the coyote tries to capture the sheep, and the sheepdog tries to stop him. But off the clock, they are friends.
Bill once came up to me before a revival meeting and said, "See that fellow over there? I've been trying to catch him." Apparently, he was one of Bill's "bad guy" smugglers.
Another time, Bill warned me of a neighbor I had. Bill had been attempting to catch him with the goods as well. He told me to let him do the work. I was to "know nothing about it." I did. I stayed clear.
Bill once told a story of a search for smuggled drugs he had to do at a home. He told how everything was clean and extremely neat in that house. He said every one of lady of house's shoes was stacked and organized in their original boxes. "Ma'am, it was a pleasure to search your home," he told her after his search was over.
Lawman Bill told of searching nice homes for contraband with beautiful outsides, and dirt floors. What a stark contrast!
Bill died mysteriously at a camp for law enforcement agents. Before he left, he said he would not return. When asked why, his reply was "Because the little spacemen are going to come and get me.
His funeral was one of my first as a young pastor and attended by many law enforcement officers. I didn't know enough to be scared then. Looking back, I get nervous just thinking about it.
Bill spent his adult life enforcing the laws of the land, even when it was politically incorrect to do so. His life fit the verse: "Do Justice, Love Mercy, and walk humbly with your God."
As a young pastor, his was one of my first funerals. It was a large affair, with a great number of law officers in uniform and wearing black tape over their badges. I was nervous but confident.
I stood with the confidence that Bill was with Jesus, where his law enforcement skills were unneeded. I told the crowd that Bill had loved justice, did mercy, and walked humbly with his God.
Though I knew him a short time, I miss him and am glad he came across my life's path.
Thank God for Bill.
At the beginning of the day, they punch in a greet each other:
"Morning Ralph."
Morning, Sam."
After that greeting, the coyote tries to capture the sheep, and the sheepdog tries to stop him. But off the clock, they are friends.
Bill once came up to me before a revival meeting and said, "See that fellow over there? I've been trying to catch him." Apparently, he was one of Bill's "bad guy" smugglers.
Another time, Bill warned me of a neighbor I had. Bill had been attempting to catch him with the goods as well. He told me to let him do the work. I was to "know nothing about it." I did. I stayed clear.
Bill once told a story of a search for smuggled drugs he had to do at a home. He told how everything was clean and extremely neat in that house. He said every one of lady of house's shoes was stacked and organized in their original boxes. "Ma'am, it was a pleasure to search your home," he told her after his search was over.
Lawman Bill told of searching nice homes for contraband with beautiful outsides, and dirt floors. What a stark contrast!
Bill died mysteriously at a camp for law enforcement agents. Before he left, he said he would not return. When asked why, his reply was "Because the little spacemen are going to come and get me.
His funeral was one of my first as a young pastor and attended by many law enforcement officers. I didn't know enough to be scared then. Looking back, I get nervous just thinking about it.
Bill spent his adult life enforcing the laws of the land, even when it was politically incorrect to do so. His life fit the verse: "Do Justice, Love Mercy, and walk humbly with your God."
As a young pastor, his was one of my first funerals. It was a large affair, with a great number of law officers in uniform and wearing black tape over their badges. I was nervous but confident.
I stood with the confidence that Bill was with Jesus, where his law enforcement skills were unneeded. I told the crowd that Bill had loved justice, did mercy, and walked humbly with his God.
Though I knew him a short time, I miss him and am glad he came across my life's path.
Thank God for Bill.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Remembering Bill, Part 1
The recent Police Officers Appreciation Banquet brought my thoughts to one of my favorite peace offices: Bill.
I knew that he was a card as soon as I met him. He had a comic's sense of humor and a good lawman's sense of justice. I met him in my first church right out of seminary in south Texas. He was a U.S. Customs Patrol officer. He didn't just patrol the border, but he had authority to investigate customs violations inland as well. He covered quite a territory.
He once served as a bodyguard for governor John Connelly during the assasination of John Kennedy. Bill was not present in Dallas, but was called to the hospital room of Connelly after he was wounded. He told me that no one knew at that time whether there would be further assasination attempts. Those were scary times.
Bill's sharp wit and dry, sarcastic sense of humor often came out. Once, as we were riding down highway 83, toward the Rio Grande Valley, he made a sarcastic remark as he pointed to a huge, expensive house in the South Texas Desert- "See that house?" He asked. "Unemployed!" This meant that while the occupant may officially be unemployed, something illegal was being done in order to afford a spread that big.
One Sunday afternoon after delicious Sunday lunch, he made a comment on a recent news item. "Well, we had another misdemeanor murder last night." It was down on the river, in smuggling territory. Bill knew that little would be done to find the killer, since these types of things were "all in the family..."
(Stay tuned for upcoming installments.)
I knew that he was a card as soon as I met him. He had a comic's sense of humor and a good lawman's sense of justice. I met him in my first church right out of seminary in south Texas. He was a U.S. Customs Patrol officer. He didn't just patrol the border, but he had authority to investigate customs violations inland as well. He covered quite a territory.
He once served as a bodyguard for governor John Connelly during the assasination of John Kennedy. Bill was not present in Dallas, but was called to the hospital room of Connelly after he was wounded. He told me that no one knew at that time whether there would be further assasination attempts. Those were scary times.
Bill's sharp wit and dry, sarcastic sense of humor often came out. Once, as we were riding down highway 83, toward the Rio Grande Valley, he made a sarcastic remark as he pointed to a huge, expensive house in the South Texas Desert- "See that house?" He asked. "Unemployed!" This meant that while the occupant may officially be unemployed, something illegal was being done in order to afford a spread that big.
One Sunday afternoon after delicious Sunday lunch, he made a comment on a recent news item. "Well, we had another misdemeanor murder last night." It was down on the river, in smuggling territory. Bill knew that little would be done to find the killer, since these types of things were "all in the family..."
(Stay tuned for upcoming installments.)
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Dress For Success
The other day, my wife and I were in a local car dealership. It was a busy, bustling place. I suppose only the good Lord and the payroll department know exactly how many salesmen work there. They all seemed to be on missions as they traversed across the showroom floor. They smiled and acknowledged their "guests" who arrived to talk deals on automobiles.
It was my wife who made the following observation: "These salesmen dress better than my nurses do." Each salesman wore a dress shirt and tie. They were cleanly groomed and sported nice slacks. Now, I am not one to be a clotheshorse, but you couldn't help but notice the image the salesmen maintained and the contrast with other professions.
I can recall when nurses wore hats, starched white dresses, and spit-shined shoes. Even policemen on the beat wore ties. Deliverymen wore snappy uniforms and hats.
People go to work (and church) in shorts and t-shirts. We dress down quite a bit. I have attended many funerals where even the pallbearers wore western shirts or sport shirts and jeans. I couldn't help but think, "It is an honor for you to be a part of this funeral. Couldn't you at least borrow a suit or tie out of respect for the deceased?"
I don't recall ever seeing Jerry Falwell without a suit and tie- except once, for a joke, when he and Rick Warren exchanged outfits. Jerry wore the Hawaiian shirt and Rick had on the suit and tie. Both looked out of place.
Don't get me wrong- I don't like wearing a suit and tie much myself. But I know there is a proper place and time for the right attire. (Have you ever gone to an event under or overdressed?) I also know that what one wears makes an impression. And those first impressions are often the ones which last the longest.
We don't get a second chance to make a first impression.
It was my wife who made the following observation: "These salesmen dress better than my nurses do." Each salesman wore a dress shirt and tie. They were cleanly groomed and sported nice slacks. Now, I am not one to be a clotheshorse, but you couldn't help but notice the image the salesmen maintained and the contrast with other professions.
I can recall when nurses wore hats, starched white dresses, and spit-shined shoes. Even policemen on the beat wore ties. Deliverymen wore snappy uniforms and hats.
People go to work (and church) in shorts and t-shirts. We dress down quite a bit. I have attended many funerals where even the pallbearers wore western shirts or sport shirts and jeans. I couldn't help but think, "It is an honor for you to be a part of this funeral. Couldn't you at least borrow a suit or tie out of respect for the deceased?"
I don't recall ever seeing Jerry Falwell without a suit and tie- except once, for a joke, when he and Rick Warren exchanged outfits. Jerry wore the Hawaiian shirt and Rick had on the suit and tie. Both looked out of place.
Don't get me wrong- I don't like wearing a suit and tie much myself. But I know there is a proper place and time for the right attire. (Have you ever gone to an event under or overdressed?) I also know that what one wears makes an impression. And those first impressions are often the ones which last the longest.
We don't get a second chance to make a first impression.
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