Mentorees

Actually, I had plans to blog on some other esoteric, mysterious, and otherwise intriguing topic, especially since I haven't blogged here in some time. But I just got off the phone with an old friend. He surrendered to the ministry when I was in his pastor in Texas. He was calling to say that he had just been called to a new church and was excited about it. He wanted to share his blessing with me, his old mentor.

Speaking as one now a member of the "midcentury club," I can now say with the elder, John the apostle, that I have no greater joy when I hear that my children are walking in the truth.

For a few moments I recalled the many young men and women who have committed their lives to Christian service when I was their pastor. I feel as though I have fathered children in the ministry. While I haven't heard from many of them in some time, I nevertheless rejoice in their pursuit of the high calling of Christ and rejoice that I had a small part to play in their lives as a mentor/coach.

My ministry is multiplied in them. For sure, my role is minor, but I like to think that I have had a small part in any success or victory that they attain.

In my present church after six years, I have not seen many commit themselves to Christian service. But what I have been privileged to teach students as an adjunct professor at New Orleans seminary. Today, the mentor role for me has changed, but I still have a part in shaping lives for service to Christ and His church.

I rejoice and count myself privileged to served this role in a few lives God has called out.

My mentorees. My students. The ministry.

There is no greater joy.

The National Conference On Preaching

For the first time ever, a friend and I attended the National Conference on Preaching held in Washington, D.C. area. The theme this year was "Preaching And The Public Square: Where Do Pulpit and Culture Meet?" That is a big question. The varied roster of speakers and seminar leaders each had their individual takes on the question.

Charles Colson, Rick Warren, James McDonald, James Emery White, Barry Black, chaplain of the U.S. Senate, as well as others spoke the
re. We heard some good preaching.

As I reflect on the week, a few thoughts emerge:

1. It is important to understand the current culture in order to effectively preach the gospel. The apostle Paul did this on Mars Hill.
2. There is a young emerging generation that are percentage wise more outside the Christian faith than any previous American generation.
3. Each preacher has a unique personality and giftedness in proclaiming the gospel. And each did so very effectively.
4. Social justice is a theme I must make more a part of my preaching.
5. We are blessed to be Americans. The tour we made of Arlington Cemetery was very reverent and awe inspiring.

Non Emergent Nurses

I have returned from the National Conference on Preaching held in Washington, D.C. It was a great time to hear some of America's greatest preachers, dialogue with homeliticians, and to do a bit of sightseeing. As I was perusing my blog, I found an old unpublished bit of writing:

Having a bit of time to think, write, and rest as I sit with Mother at the hospital, I noticed and interesting sign on the wall behind the nurse's station:

For Non Emergent Nurses
Call ......... (pager)

With all the discussion of emerging and emgergent churches, I was surprised find that nurses as well can be emergent.

When You Think Of Your Feet, Think Of Your Shoes

I have to admit the message I've used for a title has had me scratching my head. I was then asked if I were comfortable and encouraged to follow some who-knows-where weblink into some sort of black hole oblivion. I politely declined the offer, choosing instead to banish the offending message to the limbo of the trashcan.

I'm talking about, junkmail, webtrash, UBE/UCE: Unsolicited Bulk E-mail/Unsolicited Commercial E-mail, which are all synonyms for spam. The variety and creativity of these messages leaves me with a grudging admiration.

You see strange names like "Bridget," or "Wendell," and so forth. They even have last names. Spam has become so personal. I have noticed that I am even spamming myself since I am now getting email from my email address to my email address. Once I noted that our minister of music had sent me email that offered a personal product for men, shall we say. I had seen that it was from his email address and opened the mail. Gotcha! It was quite a shock to read the message and ponder why he was sending me this offer. Later I realized it's all a computer trick. At least I hope so.

Then the messages:
"I could not believe my eyes."
"Better try before you die."
"You better be more thin, think about it."

Then the ominous "Your Card balance is currently overdue and we require an immediate payment of 403,10." (How much is "403,10?"

Anyone with an email address gets similar messages and even worse, I'm sure. Offers from Canadian pharmacies, herbal product peddlers, and so called "lonely hearts." Interesting to me that, though they seem to know me, my credit or bank account so intimately, they don't even know my first name. "Dear Customer," or "Dear (Insert first part of email address," or simply "Dear " with a big blank left. Maybe they don't know me as well as they'd like me to believe. I have a hunch that, should I respond to their insidious solicitation they would know me and my bank account very well. I, unfortunately, could possibly say goodbye to both.

In the meantime, my spam box fills up like the kittylitter box at home, waiting to be dumped, full of things I'd rather not think about.

Apparently these bits of internet refuse get some results. The spammers haven't quit. If anything, they've stepped up their efforts and become more creative. So computer programmers will continue to attempt to outwit the spammers while the spammers continue to attempt to outwit the computer programmers. In the meantime, I have a lot of "urgent" messages to delete.

What was that one about "These perfectly crafted accessories will inspire respect to their owner!"

Double click.

Too late. Now I will never know.