"I'll Have To Verify That"

The title of this post was the response I got from my son when I asked him whether there would be room for the rest of the family to spend the night at his house after a musical we were to attend put on on by him and his fellow church musicians.

It got a roaring laugh response. My wife, ever vigilant to "overhear" conversations I have with him burst into laughter. I don't think he ever got it. He deadpanned the response, much like an answer I would expect if I had burdened a customer sales representative with my latest problem. Of course, this would have occurred long after canned music and a plea to "please wait; your call IS important to us."

He hasn't even been married a month yet. But he gets it. Little goes on domestically unless She Who Provides Hospitality agrees. I learned a long time ago not to make plans, invite guests to our home, or make other foolish decisions without first checking in with the one who a friend of mine laughingly refers to as "The Comptroller."

As a matter of fact, they had no spare bed (no room at the inn!) and the guest bedroom is still full of wedding presents. To be fair, she was at work at the time and the possibility of overnight guests- even family- had not been discussed by the happy newlywed couple.

My wife joked, "He gets it!" He knows better to do anything unless he checks with headquarters. I guess for all the discussion and debate among Christians about "male headship," and the recent chiding of Republican presidential contender Mike Huckabee about the Baptist Faith And Message statement that a "wife is to submit graciously to her husband," us husbands still must "verify" our decisions. I am reminded of my friend, Bill, who is still in the doghouse with his wife over his procrastination concerning painting and wallpapering their new home. As a matter of fact, I couldn't resist bringing this up with him and her upon a recent visit to their house. I enjoyed throwing a couple of verbal hand grenades to them and watching them explode. Poor Bill. Am I a sadist?

Male headship? Father knows best? Sure. Just make sure you verify it. Most of us husbands know who the power is behind the throne really is.

With tongue in cheek,
D. Holder

What Is Really Important?

It is amazing how what one thinks is important changes over the years. A baby thinks eating and being comfortable are most important. A child thinks fun and games are very important.

Adults sometimes have their priorities shaken up. When illness strikes, health becomes the most important issue, when before it could have been many other things.

Several years ago, I was driving home on a Monday afternoon from a full day of classes in Little Rock, AR. My thoughts were on what I needed to do when I got home. However, the falling freezing mist changed what was important to me.

The road became icy. Bridges and overpasses were particularly treacherous. I began to consider "holing up" for the night. But at each possible stop I resolved to go just a little further, though very slowly. Many times I held my breath as I sensed my truck sliding over an icy patch.

I prayed. Getting home safely became the most important concern. Thinking of home, warmth and safety spurred me onward. I prayed some more.

When I arrived, I came home to a roaring fire in the fireplace and a wife and son eager to see me. I discovered that many of our church family knew of my plight and were praying for me. I learned again how much those things really mattered to me.

The welcome reception of a family, the prayers of the saints, and faith in my God became very important.

What else really matters?

From The Church Newsletter

This Christmas season will be very different for me and my family. First, slightly over two months ago, my mother died. My father died a little over two years ago. As someone recently told me, “It seems like mothers hold the family together. When they are gone, the children scatter.” With Mother gone, the Christmas celebration will be quite different.

Second, our oldest son was married a couple of weeks ago. He and his new wife used up the rest of their vacation time in Hawaii on a honeymoon; therefore, they will not have time to come “home” this Christmas. That will have to wait until after the first of the year. How dare them to do that! They chose a honeymoon over a Christmas visit with their folks!

Thus, the family changes. It loses members and it gains other ones. Isn’t it interesting how we go back in time in our mental trips and recall our childhood Christmases? I recall the presents under the tree, pizza on Christmas Eve, and a trip to Mississippi to see my grandparents.

Now we children have grown up, and the grandparents and the parents have gone on to glory. Things change. It is enough to make one feel wistful and nostalgic.

But life goes on. We still have another son at home whose eyes dance with delight when he mentions his Christmas list. The child in me lives on in him. One day he, too, will grow up and leave home to start his own family. Another change. In a sense, we lose another son.

But hopefully, from both of those sons, we gain grandchildren. The cycle begins anew. We lose loved ones. We gain new ones.

The apostle Paul declared that the sufferings of this world are not worthy to be compared with the gains in glory awaiting us. By faith I believe that one day, this old body will be exchanged for a brand new, glorious body in a home “not made with hands.”

Now, that’s a change I can eagerly await.

From my heart to yours and our family to yours, have a blessed Christmas.

Celebrating the Savior,

Good News, Bad News

I guess I am getting known for my love of church signs. Recently I received a copy of an article reviewing two books on church signs from a friend. By sheer coincidence, I was given a copy of one of those books last Thursday from some church members. Also recently, a pastor who happened to looking at our church website read this blog and sent me this picture.


He said some church members shared it with him. who had run across it on one of their travels. Honestly, I have to ask if this sign was intentional. The irony is obvious, unless, of course, the person who put the letters on the sign is unhappy with his or her pastor. Yet there is still another way to interpret this sign- being that the sign letterer was inviting the reader to hear the pastor preach on this vital topic.

Either option is possible given the lack of any other information. The lesson, though, applies to life. Virtually any happening can be interpreted in various ways. A person dying, while some would say is sad, in some cases could be quite happy. I recently officiated a funeral for a woman who was ready to die and couldn't understand why she had to linger. Her death, for some might be considered sad, but for her family it was a glad occasion. It all depends on how you interpret the event.

In the back of my mind, this discussion reminds of a routine on the old "Hee Haw" television show my father was fond of watching. As I recall, Archie Campbell and a companion would be discussing the latest news. After Archie would inform his friend of some event, the friend would comment, "That's good!" or "That's bad!" depending on how the news struck him. Archie would then reply to the opposite and explain why. The comedy team of Abbott and Costello were also know for this type of humor.

For instance, take this dialogue from an admittedly "corny" joke:

"Did ya hear I got married?"
"Oh, that's good."
"No, that's bad! She's ugly!"
"Oh, that's bad."
"No, that's good! She's rich."
"Oh, that's good!"
"No, that's bad! She won't give me a cent."
"Oh, that's bad
"No, that's good! She bought me servants and a big house"
"Oh, that's good."
"No, that's bad! The house burnt down."
"Oh, that's bad."
"No, that's good! She was in it

Good or bad? Many things, like the message on the sign, are a matter of interpretation.

That's good.

Or is that bad?

I'm Not Dr. Phil; My Brother Is

My brother, Phil, recently obtained his degree from Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. He is Dr. Phil Holder. Of course, he is not to be confused with the other Dr. Phil. If you'd like his take on life and ministry, check out his blog here.

The other Dr. Phil is the currently reigning pop psychologist, with his own TV program and diet book. He enters the expert mode when questioned by news reporters about psychological issues. He dispenses advice with ease. No doubt his words are helpful to many. He is the "go to man" for many seeking wisdom in relationships and life.

A newly rediscovered trend in preaching is for the preacher to become a pulpit Dr. Phil. In this mode, the preacher dispenses advice in a sort of "how to" clinic with the communicants of his church serving as his "group." A tip of the hat is given to the Bible, but the authority of the Bible is diminished as verses are used to support and dispense advice for living.

This approach goes back to the days of the classic self affirmed liberal preacher, Harry Emerson Fosdick. Fosdick said that every sermon must have as its object the purpose of solving some problem from life. I don't completely disagree with his words, but I am not sure that this approach proclaims the "whole counsel of God."

I read the other day in one preacher's blog how he had gone to church to hear a word from God, and only got a few verses dispensed with good advice on how to manage some life issue. That preacher said he left the service empty and hungry- hungry for a true word from God.

I have had a reformation in my own preaching. In my constant striving to be "relevant" and to "communicate," I found myself falling victim to the tip-your-hat-to-the-Bible and dispense-some-group-counseling mentality. In short, I believe I was short circuiting the message and authority of scripture.

I recalled the words of the apostle Paul, who once said that he determined to know nothing except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. It dawned on me that as far as good advice goes there are plenty of words from people like Dr. Phil. (Not my brother, but the psychologist.) In short, what I have to offer that is unique is a word from God. That is the word I must share. The field of pop psychology is full of many experts and wannabes. The sharing of a true word from God is in much shorter supply. Preaching the word of God is more than group counseling. It is the sharing and proclamation of a word from God that I am called. To this end, I will preach.

After all, I'm not Dr. Phil.
My brother is.
And he's a preacher, too!

Space Paintings

I have great faith in the future, because I am constantly amazed at the variety and creativity in the world. For example, check out this creative spraypainter....

I Married My Son

Last Saturday, on a chilly wet evening in Dallas, I stood before my oldest son and his bride and officiated their wedding. It was a momentous event for me- one that I don't intend to repeat, except for when my youngest son gets married and it had better not be soon.

It was an event unique for me. I have never previously officiated at a wedding and been the father of the groom. I had prepared myself. I thought through the ceremony and selected fitting paragraphs and vows. I also knew that the ceremony had to be personal. After all, this was my eldest son who I was marrying.

I noted his birth which came after two miscarriages and was followed by another. I recalled his profession of faith as a boy and found a picture just before we left of my baptizing him. Where did this little boy looking up at his father go? I remembered my discussion with him of a call to ministry and it being made public on a Sunday evening at church. I also noted how his mother and I prayed for his wife, Melody, before we even knew her practically since the day he was born. I made reference to all of this- at least on paper.

I had good intentions. I was going to recite these memories just before I led the happy couple in a recitation of their vows. That is, until the ceremony began.

It began a few minutes late. Because of the weather, there were several late arrivals, so we delayed the start. The crowd was a decent size, composed mostly of fellow workers of the bride and groom with a smattering of family and friends. Four people came all the way from southwest Louisiana to join us. I give them my "You Are My Heroes" award.

I was fine and relaxed until a corsage was placed on the seat my mother, the grandmother of the groom, would have sat. She died only two months earlier and was thus unable to see her first grandchild get married. Seeing the empty chair caused my lips to quiver and my eyes to get misty. I quickly attempted regain my ministerial composure.

Then, a humorous moment occurred as an usher- the bride's brother- prepared to usher their mother to the altar to light the unity candle. Just as the couple prepared to embark down the aisle, his cell phone went off. It was not a mild tinkle which was emitted. It sounded like some sort of rap song at full volume. The now rattled usher hastily ripped the phone out of his pocket and silenced its urgent appeal to be answered- at least for the moment. Then, just as the mother and her escort son prepared to march down the aisle a second time, the cell phone again announced its presence. Thoroughly rattled, the young usher deftly jerked the phone out of his pocket for the second time and slammed it against the wall. This did not silence it, however. It took the best man retrieving it out of the corner into which it had been flung and turning it off and into blissful silence. I struggled to keep from laughing out loud. After all, the doors were wide open and the guests, sensing something was going on, were beginning to crane their necks for a look back our way. We were all glad that this did not occur even 60 seconds later when the usher and his mother would be at the front of the auditorium. In my mind's eye, I still see this possibility and imagine his mother attempting some sort of violent act upon her son.

After this minor misfortune, the rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch. That is, until I mounted the stage and began the ceremony.

I choked.

I got misty eyed. The loss of my dear mother was still tender to me. The corsage in the empty seat only reminded me of this fact. The emotions of my eldest son getting married overcame me. I could barely speak above a whisper as I choked back tears. I paused. I spoke. I regained composure only to lose it again. I could barely speak the words I had carefully thought out. I was barely able above a whisper to recall my son's birth, salvation experience, call to ministry, and announcement that "this is the one" he would marry.

Not to worry, though. By the time we got to the "I will" part, I was back to more of my ministerial self. We got through the ceremony, the exchange of vows, and the giving of rings. My son and his new bride are on their honeymoon in Hawaii, and I am back home.

It is difficult to wear both of those hats- father of the groom as well as officiating minister. I suspect I did as well as any of my brethren in the same situation. People commented that the ceremony was very touching. I hope so. In one fell swoop, I proved that preachers are humans, too.

After all, I married my son.