I’m glad I have a brother who fancies himself a watermelon farmer. Actually, he just fancies himself a farmer, but watermelons we’re his abundant crop this summer. I’m glad because I love watermelon. I love it’s juicy sweetness. I love the sound a watermelon makes when you stick the knife in it and it’s ripeness is just such that it splits itself open. That’s when you know it’s going to be sweet and delicious. My brother had a pretty good crop this year, and I was the benefactor of several of those home-grown melons.

My love for watermelons is as much nostalgia as anything else, I suppose. I remember as a kid walking into Malone’s Grocery in Chatham, LA, in the summer time and seeing the front of the store lined with fresh Saline watermelons. Usually in July, the watermelon farmers from Bienville Parish would make their rounds pulling trailers loaded with watermelons, stopping at every little grocery store, convenience store and gas station along their routes. If we were anywhere around, we were usually the ones who helped pack the melons from the trailer into the store. I still can’t decide which I liked more–the striped “Jubilee” melon, or the solid “Charleston Gray.”

My grandfather’s store had a dairy case that ran the length of one wall just as you entered the store. Underneath the “cooler” was storage for extra milk or eggs. He’d have us clean out a spot and fill the “cooler” with watermelons, and a sign would go in the window reading “Cold Watermelon.” The best part (and here’s the love) was on Sunday after lunch, my grandfather would go to the store, pull out one of those ice cold watermelons and bring it home for everyone to enjoy on a hot summer afternoon. Once I was old enough to drive, he’d trust me with the keys to the store, and I would get to go pick out one of those ice cold melons. Every time I slice into a juicy, ripe melon, I remember those days growing up. Nothing sweeter on a hot summer afternoon than ice cold watermelon.

It’s really just the summer melons that evoke those memories. I’ve yet to find any of those “seedless” watermelons you buy these days that have the same sweetness or meaty-ness of those locally, home-grown melons. They are a cheap (well, not really cheap, but you know what I mean) imitation of the real thing, and while they’ll do in a pinch, they just never taste quite right (and, don’t even get me started on that stuff they call “watermelon” on buffets and salad bars–really?).

Seeds are part of the whole watermelon experience. There really is something missing when the seeds are not there (seriously, no pun intended). Seeds make us have to work for the melon. I mean, when was the last time you had a seed-spitting contest? People say the sweetest part of the melon is the “heart” where there are few seeds, but I disagree. I find the sweetest part of the melon to be right in the middle of all the seeds, and while it’s a chore and a bother to separate the melon from the seeds, it’s always worth the effort, and, if you save the seeds, you’ve got the beginnings of next year’s crop. But, seedless melons are all the rage. They’re what you find in the stores these days. They make watermelon eating easier, and after all, everyone wants easier.

Sometimes, I think we want our faith easier, too. We don’t want to be bothered with the hard work that is real faith. Give me a seedless faith, one where I don’t have to bothered with the demands of a holy God, one where I can taste of the sweetness without dealing with accountability, or transparency, or honesty. Give me a seedless faith where I don’t have to wrestle with the hard questions of life. Questions like, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” or “Where is God when it hurts?” No, my seedless faith says everything is supposed to come up roses, that life is supposed to be easy, that I’m supposed to have all the finer things of life because, hey, I deserve it. Give me a seedless faith, where sin is some nebulous reality we know exists, but no one (especially me!) actually ever does it anymore. Give me a seedless faith, one without judgment, one without trials and struggles, one where all things are perfect. Some faith that is!

Faith is made stronger in the fire. Faith is made stronger in the trials. Faith is made deeper when practiced in a community where accountability is real, where honesty and integrity matter. Faith is made stronger when we wrestle with sin (both our own and that of society). Faith is made stronger, and more meaningful, and life-changing when we have to deal with the seeds.

There are Christians around the world today whose faith is being made stronger because of the persecution they endure. The Kurdish Christians who are being driven from their homes, whose lives are being threatened if they do not convert to Islam, who are being killed for the belief in Jesus Christ, do not possess a seedless faith. I suspect the persecution comes for them because they have a deep faith, a faith that is being deepened even in the face of mounting persecution. I pray for them (and all our brothers and sisters around the world who are being persecuted) daily. I pray their faith doesn’t falter, but I also pray that I could have such faith.

Nah! Seedless watermelons just aren’t the same. Faith not borne out of the trials and struggles of life is not quite the same either. I’ll take my watermelon with seeds in it. I pray my faith deepens in the hard work of living life.

Until next time, keep looking up…

⁴ “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one! ⁵ You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. ⁶ “And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. ⁷ You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. (Deuteronomy 6:4-7, NKJV)

August is upon us, and the beginning of school is right around the corner (can you believe it?). I’ve seen the school supply lists in the stores. We’re getting ready to bless the backpacks for the school children. We’re donating uniforms and school supplies. Many parents I know are breathing a sigh of relief as a “routine” can once again be established with children, and things can get back to normal (well, as normal as things get in most households). It’s a busy time of preparation and anticipation.

Our children spend, on average, 900 to 1,000 hours per year in instructional time in the classroom. That’s a lot of time learning reading, writing and arithmetic (among other subjects), and we parents are diligent to see that our children learn all they can. We know the value of a good education, and what’s more, our government mandates that we educate our children. We know the value in teaching and in teachers. So, we invest the time and resources to insure learning takes place. That’s a no-brainer.

We also invest a lot of time teaching our children other things, too. We teach them how to play sports, and perhaps more time and money is invested than ever before with the proliferation of sports academies and sports camps. We invest in the best teachers for our children when it comes to music, or dancing, or cheering, or…(you fill in the blank with the activity that your child is a part of), and we engage tutors when they fall behind in school. We want our children to learn from the best so they can be the best. That, too, is a no-brainer.

I am reminded by the words of the ancient scribe in Deuteronomy that the greatest classroom is not at the school house, nor at the sports camp, or the cheer camp, or the music studio. The greatest classroom is the home, and the greatest teachers are parents. We have been entrusted with teaching our children the lessons of faith. See, the church is not the place our children learn those lessons. They’re meant to be taught in the home. The church is here to come alongside parents to support, encourage and strengthen those values and principles learned in the home. Faith is a family affair. It was never intended for our children to “discover” their faith on their own. Faith is meant to be a family tradition. Are we passing on the tradition?

For all the hours our children spend in the various classrooms of life, they’ll never spend more hours than in the classroom of the home. The value our children eventually ascribe to any activity or area of life will likely be derived because of lessons learned (or not) in the home. May our children learn the value of trust in Jesus Christ because we parents have lived it in our homes, and we’ve invested the time and resources to teach our children the lessons that will make the most difference in our world and in their lives, not only today, but eternally. That really should be a no-brainer, too.

Until next time, keep looking up…

I’ve leaned over and picked up three pennies and a dime this week. My favorite place to find coins is Chauvin Grocery. Rare is the time I stop at Chauvin Grocery or River Grille that I don’t find something on the ground. I bend over and pick them up…even the pennies.

I’ve noticed a lot of people don’t bend over and pick up pennies anymore. “It’s not worth it!” they say. They may be right. At least, our government thinks so. President Obama recently said he would favor getting rid of the penny. One U.S. Representative actually introduced legislation entitled the COIN act (Currency Overhaul for an Industrious Nation–COIN, get it?) in 2006 that would eliminate the penny altogether. That’s probably not a bad thing since it costs the U.S. government 1.8¢ to mint a penny in 2013, and the cost to mint them has exceeded their value since 2007. Of course, I can’t figure out how to pay for an item that costs $9.99, or $9.96 if you shop at Wal-Mart. How do I get my change back if I pay with a $10 bill? I bet they round up, and I end up losing money. That’s what I need! Wal-Mart making more money off of me.

There’s not a time I bend over and pick up a penny that I don’t think of Ed DeBusk. Ed was a retired Air Force Colonel and a bus driver, and he was a member of a church I pastored.  Ed had a passion for pennies (and all other money he found lying around–literally). Maybe Ed’s passion was not for the pennies, but in the pursuit of pennies. Ed hunted pennies. For more than ten years, Ed spent his spare time hunting spare change.

Ed and his wife would go to the grocery store, and Ed would walk the parking lot looking for pennies while she shopped. They’d go to Wal-Mart, and Ed would walk the parking lot. They’d go to the mall, and you guessed it, Ed would walk the parking lot scouring the ground for pennies. Why? Because Ed saw the value of a penny. Ed collected those pennies for missions.

Every year at the church there was a penny contest during vacation bible school. Children would be challenged to bring their pennies and other spare change, and everything that was collected would be given to missions projects. Boys and girls would bring their pennies to be weighed each day. Whichever gender brought the most pennies was declared the winner on that particular day. Ed was the penny man, and he’d bring his pennies to divide among the girls and boys so that there was some equity in the contest throughout the week.

Each year I served as pastor, we collected well over $3,000 in pennies and pocket change that was used for projects like Grace Camp, Heifer Project, the Children’s Home and others. Ed’s parking lot finds were responsible for about 25% of the total collected each year. Ed’s willingness to bend over and pick up those pennies made a difference in the lives of a lot of people he never knew. Children of incarcerated parents got to go to summer camp because Ed picked up pennies. Maybe one of them met Jesus there. Somewhere in the world, there are families who have goats or chickens or pigs or cows to help them survive because Ed had a passion for pennies. Somewhere there’s a child whose pallet has been repaired because Ed spent his time scouring parking lots looking for lost change. Lives were changed because of those pennies. Lives were changed because of Ed’s passion. What’s a penny worth? I don’t know? You tell me.

Sometimes, I wonder if we don’t treat lives the way we treat pennies? We see someone who has struggled with addictions and we wonder if they’ve thrown their life away. We see the homeless and wonder why they’re that way. We see a prisoner and we think, “good riddance.”  We encounter a person who is caught in a trap of moral failure or sin, and we think, “What a waste!” God doesn’t see any life as wasted. I think Ed had a little of God’s heart when he picked up those pennies. He could see the value even when no one else could. That’s why God sent His Son, Jesus to die for our sins. The cross was God bending down to pick us up, dust us off and say, “That one is worth picking up.”

Ed’s gone now, but I still don’t pass a penny on the parking lot that I don’t reach down and pick up the penny and thank God for Ed DeBusk and the passion God gave him for pennies.  God called Ed to spend the last ten or so years of his life picking up pennies. I would estimate that Ed picked up over $20,000 worth of pennies in those years. I thank God every day that Ed DeBusk saw the value of a penny. I thank God every day that He sees the value in us (and, in me).

Until next time, keep looking up…

I like Thom Rainer. Dr. Rainer is the President of Lifeway Christian Resources (Yes, that’s the Baptist Bookstore). Dr. Rainer is also a great statistician and always offers interesting insight into church culture and its intersection with secular culture. He’s also written some great books, too. If you see me at the Monroe Athletic Center and I have my headphones in, it’s a pretty good chance I’m listening to a podcast on http://www.thomrainer.com. I enjoy getting his perspective on church/culture issues and leadership.

I came across this article Rainer wrote on church attendance in the United States, it dawned on me something was missing. The information was not necessarily new to me. I’d heard him mention it several times on his podcast. We pastors are always concerned about church attendance and the like. Seriously, we take church attendance as a sign we’re doing at least an adequate job, and pastors like to know we’re doing a good job. Most of us were raised with an appreciation for the good old American work ethic, so any pastor worth his/her salt tracks attendance. The biggest problem I have with Dr. Rainer saying the number one reason for decline in church attendance is changing attendance patterns is it can give pastors the false impression that it’s not my fault. Well, perhaps it isn’t…but, just maybe it is. Let me try to explain myself.

Dr. Rainer writes in the article that “if 200 members attend every week, average attendance is 200. But if one-half of those members miss one out of four weeks, the attendance drops to 175.” I’m not arguing his point. The numbers are correct. I could look at that statement and think, “My attendance is down 12%, and I’ve done nothing different, so it’s not my fault.” I might be only half-right. Perhaps it is my fault because I’ve spent too much time seeking to make church members instead of making disciples of Jesus Christ. Yes, I do believe there is a difference in a church member and a disciple. For one, we live with the mentality in the United States that “membership has its privileges.” The reality is discipleship has its responsibilities, sacrifices and costs. Membership is too easy. Discipleship is hard work.

While Rainer says the number one reason for decline in attendance is changing attendance patterns, he doesn’t unpack the reasons for the changing attendance patterns. Those reasons are myriad and would probably take several more articles (or an entire book) to work through. Among them are:

• Competing allegiances (i.e., sports, work, family commitments, etc.)
• A more mobile culture
• Lack of commitment

I think one reason for the decline in church attendance has to do with the number of Christians dying. Hello! If a church averaging 200 in attendance twenty years ago now averages 100 in attendance, there’s been a 50% decline in attendance. But, what if 100 of those 200 died? There’s your reason for the decline in attendance. Death definitely changes a person’s attendance pattern. A pastor can’t keep people from dying, can we?

I believe the greater issue is a failure in evangelism. While that doesn’t totally lay at the doorstep of the pastor, it’s a pretty good place to start. I have to ask myself the question, “How have I shared Christ with those around me?” Another question I have to ask myself is, “How have I been Christ to those around me?” Still another question I ask is, “How have I helped my church members share Christ with their friends, relatives, associates and neighbors?” The task is to be Christ and share Christ with a hurting world, and invite others to know the Jesus who transforms hearts, and who transforms the world. That’s the starting place for all discipleship, and unless we pastors lead by example, I wonder if we’re not really disciples ourselves (I’m just wondering out loud).

Members pay dues, attend meetings when it’s convenient, connect socially, and expect the benefits of membership. Disciples commit to a life-long transformation process that challenges the core of our being. I’ve offered my core values of a disciple in this blog before. I won’t unpack them again, but I will mention them as a reminder. A disciple of Jesus Christ is a person who:

• Lives evangelistically,
• Studies devotionally,
• Worships regularly (both corporately and privately),
• Serves faithfully, and
• Gives generously.

Attendance should never decline because we should always be reaching out in the power of the Holy Spirit engaging others with the message of salvation in Jesus Christ. The Gospel is as relevant to this culture as it is to any culture before us. The Gospel of Jesus Christ is never irrelevant. My fear is I’ve made it irrelevant because I’ve failed to allow the Holy Spirit to transform me, and to live as a disciple. I fear I’ve spent too much time being a church member and not a disciple, and that I’ve spent far too much time trying to make church members and not nearly enough time trying to make disciples. As good as Thom Rainer is, I think the number one reason for the decline in church attendance is not changing attendance patterns, but rather my lack of discipleship. So, maybe the decline in church attendance is my fault, after all. But, hey? I’m not the perfect pastor, so…

Until next time, keep looking up…

So…the title of my sermon Sunday was “The Test of Faith.” It should have been “The Lord Will Provide.” I preached Sunday from Genesis 22–the story of Abraham offering his son, Isaac, on Mount Moriah. There is so much rich material in the passage, but in the interest of time I chose to focus on verse 1–“Later on, God tested Abraham’s faith and obedience.” I should have focused on verse 14–“Abraham named the place Yahweh-Yireh (which means ‘the Lord will provide’). To this day, people still use that name as a proverb: ‘On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided’.” So, let me tell you why.

It all began Thursday. I spent Thursday afternoon in sermon prep (that’s my usual routine), but for some reason the sermon just didn’t seem to come together. In the middle of my prep, my Minister of Music texted asking if I would prepare the communion elements on Sunday morning (yes, the Senior Pastor of FUMC, Monroe sometimes has to prepare communion elements–don’t ask!). I replied, “Sure, if you’ll make sure the elements are at the church.”

We have three services at FUMC, Monroe each Sunday. We have two traditional services in the sanctuary, and one contemporary service in the fellowship hall. That means three loaves of King’s Hawaiian Bread (just like Jesus used). It also means that the elements in the sanctuary have to be cleaned and replaced in the sanctuary after 8:30 a.m. worship. I get to the church Sunday morning and there are three loaves of bread in the parlor kitchen refrigerator (we’re good to go). I prepare the elements for the 8:30 and 9:30 worship services and put them in place, and I leave one loaf of bread in the refrigerator. I text our Assistant Minister of Music (believing it is my responsibility to insure the elements are replaced after the service–didn’t my Minister of Music text me and ask me to prepare the elements on Sunday?), and ask her to make sure the juice and bread are replaced in the sanctuary after 8:30 worship. She replies, “Will do.” So…we’re all set.

Both the 8:30 and 9:30 a.m. worship services go off without a hitch. The pastoral staff and the choir are lined up behind the sanctuary for the 10:50 a.m. worship service, and my Assistant Minister of Music looks at me and says, “Lynn, I forgot to replace the juice and bread for communion!” I think to myself, “Well, that’s a problem…,” but I say to her, “Well, send someone to get the bread out of the parlor refrigerator, and we’ll use the old juice left over from 8:30 a.m. She turns to her husband (who sings in the choir) and tells him to go to the parlor and get the bread. He gets to the parlor, and…NO BREAD! Someone has stolen the last loaf of King’s Hawaiian Bread!

He locates his son and son-in-law and sends them to Wal-Mart, which, luckily, is only a few blocks away to retrieve another loaf of bread. While they’re going to Wal-Mart, he goes to the fellowship hall and retrieves the “left-overs” from 9:30 a.m. worship, and grabs the bottle of juice from the parlor ‘fridge and heads back to the sanctuary. More on this story later, but let me digress for a moment…

The worship started on time, and as far as we know, no one in the congregation was aware anything was out of the ordinary. The pastoral staff are on the chancel progressing through the order of worship. It comes time for the morning offering. We have a “new” Associate Pastor, and it’s his first Sunday to be on the chancel with the staff. He’s been assigned the Offertory prayer. He asks, “What do I do? Just invite the ushers to come forward?”

“Yes,” I say, “and then the choir will sing their little ditty while the ushers come.”

“Okay, cool,” he says.

He rises to invite the ushers to come. No ushers. He turns and looks at me. “Well, say something,” I say to him.

“If the ushers will come,” he says, but still no ushers. I must admit, he covered well. He said something witty (I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I remember the congregation chuckling). I don’t remember what he said at that point because I’d quit listening. I was worried about the ushers. Did we forget to line up ushers? No. There were ushers handing out bulletins this morning. I’m thinking to myself, “It’s Chris’s first Sunday on the chancel. Someone’s pulling a prank on him. Surely they wouldn’t do that, would they?” Finally, I said, “Someone go find the ushers,” and I see one…that’s right…one person get up and go look for the ushers. Someone has stolen the communion bread and now, they’ve kidnapped the ushers! Just about the time that ONE person stepped out into the foyer, the ushers stepped in and began making their way down the aisle. It’s the first time in my 23+ years of ministry I’ve ever seen a group of ushers receive a round of applause from a congregation. I wanted to say, “Wait until we’ve counted the offering to applaud,” but I thought better of it. Chris offers his prayer, and while he’s praying, our Assistant Minister of Music leans over to our other Associate Pastor and says, “There’s no bread under that cloth.” And, now, back to our story…

The choir does a stellar job on the anthem, and the doxology goes off without a hitch (well, at least we got something right!). I step to the pulpit, read the scripture, and as always, after the scripture, offer a prayer for God’s blessing on our hearing of His Holy Word. Okay, so the prayer has a two-fold purpose. One, to ask God to bless the Word and our hearing of it, and two, to allow the choir time to exit. As I’m praying, I keep hearing movement behind me, and I think (yes, while I’m praying), “It sure is taking the choir a long time to exit.” I find out later, it’s the Assistant Minister of Music’s husband scurrying on hands and knees slipping up behind the altar table to leave the “left-over” bread and bottle of juice so we’ll have elements for communion.

I begin preaching the sermon. Now, here’s the irony…my opening illustration, which is seemingly prophetic at this point, mentions several ways you can tell if you’re having a bad day. If you show up for work and there’s a “60 Minutes” crew there, you might be having a bad day. If your twin sister forgets your birthday, you might be having a bad day. If your birthday cake collapses under the weight of the candles, you might be having a bad day. I should have added, “If your ushers don’t show up and there are no communion elements on the altar table, you might be having a bad day,” but I thought better of that, too.

So…I’m in the pulpit preaching, and I see, out of the corner of my eye, my Associate Pastor get up and exit the sanctuary out the back door. “Hum? I wonder where he’s going (yes, preachers can multitask while preaching). Maybe he’s going out to get the bread.” In a few minutes, I see him come back in without any bread. Interesting. Must have had to go to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he gets up and goes out again. He must have some bladder problem, or there’s something seriously wrong. I’m not sure what to think at this point. I just keep preaching. Mercifully, I get to the end of the sermon, and it’s time for communion.

We progress through the Prayer of Confession and in the middle of the Great Thanksgiving, I step off the pulpit, move toward the altar table to uncover the “elements,” and my Associate meets me there, fresh loaf of bread in hand, and as I pull back the communion cloth, what do we see but an entire loaf of bread perched perfectly on the plate. The Associate Minister of Music proclaims, “It’s a miracle!” I’m almost certain anyone sitting on the first four rows at FUMC, Monroe heard her proclamation, and wondered what she meant. I simply took the other loaf from my Associate, placed it on the altar table next to the loaf already there, picked that loaf up and continued the Prayer of Great Thanksgiving. Until now, I’m not sure anyone in the congregation had any idea what was going on.

Here’s more irony (or humor, or whatever…). The conclusion of the sermon was this: “God is always in the middle of our bad days. Sometimes testing us. Sometimes protecting us. Sometimes encouraging us. But, always with us, and when we trust that He is, we discover grace, and a God who provides all we need.”

Well, God did provide that day, and God provides everyday (even if what we need is communion bread). It’s a pretty compelling lesson, but, as usual, we don’t really learn the lesson until after the fact. It’s hard to see while we’re living it!

If you’d like to see this entire comedy of errors, click this link: http://www.ustream.tv/channel/first-united-methodist-church-monroe-la. Have mercy as you watch, please.

Maybe watching this instead will help:

Until next time, keep looking up…

I had a bad week last week. The week was not bad in the sense that anything bad happened. It was bad in the sense that I could have done some things differently, and the Lord spent the week reminding me that I should have done a few things differently.

It started at Best Buy. I had purchased some electronic components a few weeks earlier. Actually, it was 20 days earlier. I know it was 20 days earlier because the nice (I’m being a little sarcastic) lady behind the customer service counter told me when I arrived and asked to return the items that Best Buy had a 14 day return policy. So…I got mad…not at the lady, but at myself. The items sat on my desk for all those days. The day I purchased them I discovered they were not correct. I let them sit on my desk thinking, “I’ll take them back tomorrow.” Tomorrow finally came 19 days later. I suppose it would profit a guy to read the receipt, but seriously, who actually reads receipts? I probably leave a ton of free and discounted stuff on the table because I don’t read receipts or log on and take the surveys they ask us to take.

I was mad at myself. First, for not reading the receipt and knowing Best Buy had a 14 day return policy, but I was also mad at myself for not returning the items sooner. They sat on my desk waiting to be returned. I had no excuse for not doing it sooner except that things just get pushed to the side on my desk, and I forgot (if you’ve seen my desk, you know how easy that is). The problem is that my anger presented itself in my interaction with the lady at the customer service counter. I became terse in my responses to her questions. I acted inconvenienced at her requests. Oh! I didn’t make a scene, but it was obvious I was perturbed. The more imposed upon I acted, the more imposed upon she acted…and, it was all my fault! It wasn’t my finest hour, and to make it worse, Vanessa witnessed the entire episode…which only made me more mad…at myself. Then, I got mad for being mad. It was a downward spiral.

The Holy Spirit began to work on me even before I left the store. I knew why I was angry, but even so, I did my best to make it someone else’s fault. I blamed the policy. “What a stupid policy,” I thought. “She could be nicer about it,” I said in my mind. “Just take the stupid things back,” is what I was really wanting to say. Each one of those thoughts was rooted in one more overwhelming thought—“Well, you idiot, if you’d just read the receipt and gotten off your duff and returned the items sooner this wouldn’t be happening.” The responsibility landed on my plate, and I didn’t like acknowledging that fact. The Holy Spirit was present to remind me (so, too, was Vanessa–yes, the Holy Spirit works through our spouses).

The Holy Spirit continued to work on me over the next several days. The Spirit first spoke through a book I was reading entitled The Spiritual Danger of Doing Good, by Peter Greer. One chapter dealt specifically with how we look to other people, and that one motivation for our doing good is because of how it makes us look to others. We’re more concerned about how doing good makes us look than actually doing good for goodness sake. The rebuke for me came because I was concerned that MY mistake made ME look bad, and I was more concerned with looking bad than I was about being good. Pride got the best of me, and I needed to repent.

The Spirit next spoke through my devotional time with A. W. Tozer. Two brief sentences from Tozer pricked my heart and have stayed with me since:

• “We have become experts in other people’s shortcomings but quite naive about our own personal standing with God.”
• “Too often, we are guilty of accepting in ourselves what we vehemently condemn in others.”

Tozer’s words spoke to my own shallow faith, and of my need for God’s grace. Conviction came as I realized I too easily and too quickly surrendered to the sin that is in me, than to the Savior who died for me. The disciple’s life is a daily surrender to the One who surrendered Himself on the cross for me. I surrendered alright, but not in the right way.

Finally, through Scripture I was reminded that even on my worst days, the love of God is still present. It came later in the week, but I was prompted to read Romans 8, and there in verses 38-39 I found comfort:

38 And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. 39 No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.

There are a few lessons I’ve learned:

1. I’m not nearly as good as I think I am.
2. I’m not always as bad as I think I am.
3. Not even my pride can keep God from loving me.
4. Even my bad weeks are not really all that bad.
5. Daily surrender to Jesus Christ is the key to being a faithful disciple.

Perhaps my experience will help you not have such a bad week. Oh, and yes, Best Buy let me return the items (in spite of my attitude).

Until next time, keep looking up…

One of the interesting things you discover about New York City late in the day is that lots of shop owners take their garbage out and pile it on the street. The later in the day, the more garbage piles up on the streets. What I also discovered while in New York City is that the garbageman comes around awfully early in the morning, and the same streets that were cluttered with garbage are quickly cleaned. I’d have to say the garbageman is one of the most important people in New York City. Imagine how nasty the City would be without the garbageman. I wonder how many New Yorkers actually know their garbageman’s name?

Why would they know the garbageman’s name? I don’t know my garbageman’s name. Every week, someone comes by my house, picks up my garbage and disposes of it. Sometimes I see the person/s, sometimes I don’t. They are always consistent…week in, week out. It may not always be the same person, but if someone didn’t come my garbage would pile up and become more rancid with each passing day. No, I don’t know his name, but he is definitely an unsung hero in my life, and I just felt like I needed to give a call to my garbageman (and all garbage men) this morning.

I don’t know if Malkijah qualifies as an unsung hero in the Bible or not, but I think he was called upon to do a totally unexciting yet wholly necessary job. As Nehemiah gave instructions and assignments for rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile, it fell Malkijah’s lot to work on the Dung Gate. We all know what dung is, right? Yeah, your thinking in the right direction. Actually, the word translated “dung” literally means “refuse.” It was the “Garbage” gate, and just outside it lay the garbage dump for the Temple. The garbage had to go somewhere. Malkijah, though I’m sure his work was not pretty, did the job. Garbage gotta’ go somewhere, right?

I started thinking about how important it is to have a garbageman. We all have garbage. I’m speaking purely in the figurative sense here, but humor me for a minute. The garbage in our lives are those things that work to destroy us, to stink up our lives and drive people away. The problem with our garbage is we tend to hold on to it. We let it pile up…and it begins to stink and rot and become rancid. It might be because we don’t have a garbageman.

What kind of garbage do we have? First, we have what’s been called “paraphernalia” garbage. Substance abuse, internet addictions, sexual addictions, gambling addictions and other addictive behavior would fall under this category of garbage.

Next is “thought” garbage. Every behavior began in our minds, in our thoughts. We fantasize, we dream, we obsess over issues, and before we know it, that which we’ve obsessed over becomes a reality. Negative thinking leads to negative behavior. The converse is also true. Remember what Paul said in Philippians 4:8–

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.

We can have deluded thinking. I’m often deluded, thinking more highly of myself than I should. I also tend to rationalize a lot, telling myself I “deserve” something. Well, about the only thing I deserve is death…so says, Paul in Romans 3:23–

For the wages of sin is death.

Another type of garbage in our lives is “ritual” garbage. No, I’m not talking about religious rituals. I’m talking about all the actions we take between having negative thoughts and finally taking the negative actions. Rituals are the way we make time to engage ourselves in sinful or destructive behavior. Alcoholics can be creative about these kinds of things, as can other types of addicts. Let’s face it, though. Not all of us are substance abusers. Maybe my issue is wasting too much time in front of the TV, or in front of the refrigerator. Maybe it’s too much time on the golf course, or too much time at the hunting camp. Maybe it’s too much time at the shopping mall. Any and all of these actions can be destructive if there is an addictive nature to them.

My point is simply that we all have garbage in our lives, and left unattended, it will rot…it will stink up our lives. When I was a teenager, I dated a young lady whose dad had a trailer out in front of their house. It was his custom to bag up the daily garbage and dispose of it by tossing it in the trailer. It piled up for months…and it stank. It didn’t keep me from showing up, though (not much hinders teenage boys from seeing teenage girls–even stinky garbage). Imagine how it would be if you and I just let our garbage pile up outside our house. Eventually, no one could stand come around (have you seen the TV show “Hoarders”?).

Simply put, we need a garbageman. We need someone in our lives that helps us deal with our garbage. We need a real-life person who we can “dump” on, to talk to and share those places where we struggle with thoughts and behaviors. “Dumping” the garbage helps us deal with the garbage. That person could be a trusted friend (don’t tell just anyone!), a pastor, or a counselor. If confession is good for the soul, accountability is better. Accountability to another person can help us walk a walk worthy of our calling. But, unless we have a garbageman (or garbagewoman), we’ll always struggle with the garbage piling up and stinking up our lives. So, let me ask you…who’s your garbageman?

Until, next time, keep looking up…

There’s nothing quite like reading a little A. W. Tozer to bring a person back to reality. I should actually say keep a person grounded. I’ve written on here in the recent past how blessed how I am. I’ve even said I’m a bit embarrassed to feel as blessed as I do. I’ve also commented on the fact that I’ve been appointed to what I believe is one of, if not the, best church in our Annual Conference. I’m riding a wave of personal and professional blessing. So, what’s Tozer got to do with that?

For those who don’t know A. W. Tozer (1897-1963), he was a Christian & Missionary Alliance pastor who is most famous for his two Christian classic works The Pursuit of God and The Knowledge of the Holy. He died before I was born, but his books have had a profound impact on my life and theology. A friend sent me a copy of The Dangers of a Shallow Faith a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve incorporated it into my daily devotional routine. One particular chapter brought me back to earth. Let me explain.

Tozer intimates in chapter 8 that victory can spoil us. Of course, he speaks of spiritual victory, and riding the wave of personal and professional blessing as I’ve been, I would say I’ve been on top of the world. But, he reminds me, what we think is victory may not really be victory at all. The victorious Christian life is not the life that is free of troubles or trials, but rather is a “day-to-day or even moment-by-moment victory over enemies and situations that we confront in the way.” I am reminded that I face daily struggles with what even Wesley called “besetting sins”–things like anger, envy, pride, gossip and lust. My victory is not found in the great blessing I feel, but in the daily trusting of Christ through His Holy Spirit to overcome the little things that I deal with every day. Tozer also reminds me that arrogance is the sin that follows in the wake of success. So, now I add arrogance to the list, especially as I read over some of my previous posts. They do come across as a bit arrogant, don’t they?

Tozer issues a great warning in regards to arrogance:

“It is always a temptation to let your victories get blown way out of proportion and give you a wrong concept of who you really are. Watch out for a reputation that is lauded. It is too easy to believe what people are saying about you…Watch out if you get established and accepted in your field as being a victorious and successful person; when that happens you are in danger. If, in your Christian life, you make some strides forward, you are in danger.”

He goes on to say that the same crowd that shouted “Hosanna” to Jesus would only a few days later cry, “Crucify him.” We shouldn’t think too much of ourselves. That comes across as arrogant, and that’s one of the sins of success.

That’s not to say we should live a defeated life, either. As victory can spoil us, defeat can destroy us. Just as we should not allow victory to spoil us, we should not let failures define us. Life is a daily struggle and it is too easy to become disheartened and discouraged because we don’t face those struggles in the power of God’s Holy Spirit. The danger is in allowing defeat to “put a permanent reversal in your heart.” Just as success isn’t permanent (if we’re not careful), neither is defeat. So, be watchful when things are going great, and be encouraged when things are going badly. Tozer gives some keys to surviving either victory or defeat.

Rule #1: Never trust a discouraged heart. A discouraged heart always exaggerates everything. You’re not as bad as you think you are at the moment. The converse is also true–you’re not as good as you think you are following a victory. A discouraged spirit will never give you a true picture of yourself.

Rule #2: Postpone any immediate decision-making. This certainly follows after rule #1. Tozer writes:

“Many people have, at a moment of deep discouragement, resigned or quit or moved and lived to regret it. Many other people have gone through the ‘slough of despondency’ and held on until they were through it and broke into the marvelous sunlight of God’s delight.”

Rule #3: Reflect on your relationship with God. No matter what happens, we are still a child of God. Our failure does not change our relationship with God. God still looks down on us with a “bright smile of grace and mercy.”

Rule #4: Saturate yourself with God’s promises. Time alone with God is the key to surviving either success or failure. Open the Bible. Read the promises of God. His Word never changes regardless of our success or failure.

We shouldn’t let victory spoil us, nor should we let defeat dishearten us. Life is filled with both. Win or lose, we have God with us. Tozer says, “if we keep away from sin and keep above it all and keep happy in God, we are winning whether we know it or not. We can be just as happy when we are not happy as we are when we are happy, because that is the prerogative of living the life of faith.”

So, I say “thank you” to Tozer for bringing my feet back to the ground, and I can only beg your forgiveness if I’ve thought too highly of myself.

Until next time, keep looking up…

We just returned from Annual Conference. For non-Methodists, Annual Conference is the annual meeting of the Annual Conference. That sounds confusing, doesn’t it? For simplicity’s sake, just say The Annual Conference is the basic unit of organization of local congregations in a geographical area for United Methodists. For those of us in Louisiana, it includes the entire state of Louisiana, and The Annual Conference meets annually at an Annual Conference. I’ve digressed early in this blog. The theme of Annual Conference was “Woven Together,” and we talked a lot about DNA. It’s the whole DNA thing that has me thinking this morning, especially as we head toward Father’s Day.

Honestly, I’m shocked how much I see my father in me sometimes. There are mornings I wake up, walk to the mirror in the bathroom and see my dad staring back at me. Other times, I catch myself saying things I heard my dad say occasionally. Still other times, I notice little eccentricities I saw in my dad reflected in me, too. It’s eerie! I suppose, though, it’s DNA.

Even more interesting is when I’m with one or all of my brothers, I see my dad in them, too. Little quirks, little turns of phrases, and the looks…man, the looks! It’s incredible. And, we all act like him sometimes, too. I think if our dad passed anything permanent on to his sons, it would be his Irish temper. As much as I’d rather not, I’ve seen it in all of us. That, too, I suppose is DNA (and not enough of the cultivation of the spiritual fruits of self-control and patience).

Seeing my father in me has caused me to read again John 14. Yeah, it’s that passage we Methodists read at funerals, and if I remember correctly, it was read at my father’s funeral, too. The part that really strikes me as I anticipate Father’s Day is the exchange between Jesus and Philip in verses 8-10:

⁸ Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”

⁹ Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father! So why are you asking me to show him to you?¹⁰ Don’t you believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words I speak are not my own, but my Father who lives in me does his work through me.

Jesus said, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father!” Jesus just took the DNA thing to a whole new level. Jesus says to Philip that his words and actions both reflect his Father…that what he does, he can’t do apart from his Father. It was born into Jesus to do the will of his Father. Born into him…DNA.

I suppose it’s natural to look in the mirror and see Terry Malone (forget for a moment that my name IS Terry Malone, too). The old saying, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” is true. There are a lot of things that were good about my dad. There were a few things that weren’t always so good. I got some of both because that’s what DNA does to us (science was not my strongest subject, but I think that’s how it works).

What came naturally to Jesus doesn’t come so naturally to us. Certainly, we are created in the image of God, but this little thing (it’s not such a little thing) called sin has marred that image. The only remedy for sin is the cross of Jesus Christ. It is the cross that restores the image of God in us, and only when we trust Christ for our salvation is the image of God restored in us. Only in trusting Christ do we begin to see the Father reflected in us. Our natural state is to be separated from God, the Father. What was to be our original DNA was altered by an episode in the Garden of Eden (read Genesis 3 for the full account). I must look to Jesus to see the Father. I must trust Jesus to restore the image of the Father in me. It proves yet again how much I need Jesus.

I need Jesus to give me the Father’s DNA. I need the Holy Spirit to pour Himself out into my life to give birth to the Father’s DNA that was in Jesus. I don’t have it apart from him. I can’t have it apart from him. Jesus gives each of us an infusion of the Father’s DNA. Listen to Paul in Romans 8:

12 Therefore, dear brothers and sisters,you have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do. 13 For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live. 14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.

15 So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.” 16 For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. 17 And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.

As much as I see my father in me, I want more to see the Father in me. So, it’s true…if you’ve seen me you’ve seen my father. I want it to be more true that if you’ve seen me you’ve seen The Father. That’s the image that needs work. At least in me, anyway…

Until next time, keep looking up…

P.S.- Here’s a great “old” song I came across while surfing the web this morning. Kinda’ made my Father’s Day weekend already.

It’s early. I’m up. I’m in a dark hotel room trying not to disturb my sleeping beauty. I’ve been praying for a while. I have nothing else to do. It must be time to write. What will I write? I’ll just put down all these random thoughts I’ve been praying over early this morning.

As I write, I’m at Annual Conference. The Conference has been, well, different. Not different in a bad sort of way, just different in a different sort of way. For 24 years, I’ve made this annual trek to Shreveport (mostly), and for 24 years one was able to fairly predict what was going to take place at Annual Conference. That’s not the case this year. This is no complaint. It’s just…different. Different is good. Different pushes us to the edge of our comfort zone. Yes, there’s my confession. I’m a bit uncomfortable, but in a good sort of way. We need different. What wise sage said, “If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always got.” Probably Mark Twain. Nah! Probably not, but he could have said it. What we’ve gotten is a forty-year decline in membership and attendance. Something needs to be different. I’m okay if we start with Annual Conference being different. Will changing Annual Conference change the direction of our denomination? Probably not. But, it won’t hurt. So, I’ll live with the different, and I’ll be uncomfortable, but that’s okay. I’m betting (no, I’m not a betting man) there a lot of other people uncomfortable, too.

I’ve also been praying about elections. Not secular elections, but elections for General and Jurisdictional Conference delegates. For those non-Methodists who might read this, General Conference and Jurisdictional Conference take place every four years, and every four years each Annual Conference must elect delegates who will represent it at the law-making gathering (General Conference) and the bishop-electing gathering (Jurisdictional Conference). We will (today, hopefully) elect four clergy delegates and four lay delegates to General Conference, and four each to Jurisdictional Conference, as well as two alternates. So, that’s twenty people who will help lead our church and whom God will use to chart a course toward faithfulness in fulfilling our mission–to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. We need prayerful servants who desperately desire to hear the heart of God. We face incredibly challenging times. I’m praying the power of the Holy Spirit (this is Pentecost Season) will fill our hearts and give us discernment as we elect those who will serve us.

I’m also thinking about transitions. I watched with pride (I know, not a Christian virtue) as Chris Winterman stepped on the platform to receive his license to preach. The License to Preach is the first step along the path to ordination in the UM church, and I was blessed (that’s probably a better word than proud) to know that I’ve had a small part to play in Chris’s journey. Chris is our Minister to Students at FUMC, Monroe, and now he’ll be appointed as a full-blown associate pastor. Oh, he’ll still be leading our student ministries, but he’s simply taken another step on the journey of following God’s call.

I’m also thinking about Jonathon Bevil following God’s call to Arkansas to assume leadership of the Wesley Foundation at Arkansas Tech University. I’m blessed to have shared a portion of Jonathon’s journey over the past three years, too. He was a young man who appeared at the District Office three years in search of an appointment in the UMC. From day one, Jonathon articulated a call to ministry on the college campus. I’m blessed that I’ve been able to watch that call develop. I hope I had some small part in helping him along the way. It’s been incredible to watch that call unfold. It’s amazing how God opens doors, and how His timing is always right. I hate to see Jonathon go, but who can argue with God?

Reflecting on God’s call in Chris’s and Jonathon’s lives has prompted me to do a little soul-searching concerning God’s call on my life. I trust I’m being faithful to His call. I know this…I’m almost embarrassed to be this blessed! I’m at a great place in life and in ministry. I thank God for His blessings! I praise Him for His mercy and grace! There’s only one thought that comes to mind–“Don’t blow it!” In speaking the phrase, I might do just that. In the words of the old African-American spiritual, “We’ve come this far by faith…He’s never failed me yet!” I’ll keep singing that song for now, and as I sing, I’ll keep trusting that His timing will always be right.

I warned you these thoughts were rather random. I’m not sure how safe it is giving anyone a glimpse into such a scattered brain. Anyway, it’s time to get ready. I’ve got Annual Conference to attend.

Until next time, keep looking up…