Sitting on the beach for six hours a day will give you plenty of time to think, especially if it’s the low season and there aren’t a lot of people on the beach. One of the things I like to do on the beach is people watch, but with less people this time of year, I’ve had more time to think.

Sitting on the beach is conducive to thinking. The waves rolling, the birds chirping, the breeze blowing. I’ve thought about a lot of things the past two days. Part of that thinking this week has been self-reflective. I didn’t plan this vacation with the intent of being self-reflective. It just kind of happened. I suppose the fact that I’m soon facing the big 5-0 might have something to do with it.

One of the things I’ve reflected on is how blessed I am as I face that big number. I told the congregation in the message on Sunday that it’s easy to give God the credit and the praise when things are going well, so I confess, this is the easy part for me. Someone asked me a few weeks ago how things were going, and my answer was, “I couldn’t write a book or a script to make my life any better.” Well, in the interest of full disclosure, if I were writing a book or script, it would include a chapter in which I received a great financial windfall, so technically, the statement wasn’t the truth, but that’s another story–literally!

I am, however, incredibly blessed, almost to the point that I’m embarrassed to say. Seriously? Who gets to be married to the best friend for almost 32 years. We have a great life together. We have incredible children and grandchildren, and they’re all healthy. Blessed, I tell you! And, when I came to ministry almost 22 years ago, I never, ever envisioned that I would be pastoring such as great congregation as the the one at FUMC, Monroe. I’ve spent a fair amount of time over the past couple of days thanking God for His blessings. I know they are his gifts to us, because I know I don’t deserve any of them. I hope that doesn’t come off as a “humbler than thou” attitude, but I’m just a blessed man.

I’ve also done a fair amount of reflecting on the state of our denomination. I have said in the past that I love the United Methodist Church. I love it enough to want to stay and see it make a difference in the world. There have been a few times I’ve considered leaving for another denomination, but the reality is I don’t know what denomination it would be. Not many people know this, but coming out of seminary, I flirted with another denomination–even went out of state to visit a denominational official and the church they wanted me to pastor–but, in the end, I’m a United Methodist. For better or worse. I’ll be United Methodist until there is not a United Methodist Church. If there comes a day in my life time when there’s not a United Methodist Church, then I’ll consider being something else. In the meantime, I’m going to do all I can to live out my discipleship where I am, and I’m going to do all I can to insure that we people called Methodist continue to seek “holiness of heart and life,” and that the life-changing grace of God made real in Jesus Christ is made available to all who seek it.

Of course, that does make me wonder if I’m being faithful, or if I just don’t like change. I prefer to think it’s the former, but I sometimes know it’s probably the latter. It’s easier not to change. It’s the path of least resistance. I suppose it’s like so many other areas of my life. The Holy Spirit convicts me. I respond, but usually only momentarily, and then things return to “normal.” It’s like if I sit real still, the Holy Spirit will note the futility of his efforts and move on. He never does, he keeps coming back confronting me in the areas he desires to transform in my life. Transformation is hard (and sometimes messy) work. Again, this week, the Holy Spirit has been working on me. He’s spoken pretty clearly into some areas that he’s working on. I’ve heard him loud and clear. There’s more than a little anxiety as I explore some next steps because they will require change. But, isn’t that what transformation is all about?

I’ve pretty much come to this one conclusion–if there had been more people here to watch I wouldn’t have done so much thinking. Oh, well. Maybe next time I’ll come to the beach during high season.

Until next time, keep looking up…

I think I honored a Sabbath yesterday. It was Labor Day (but most of you know that), and I didn’t really do a thing. And, I loved it!

Okay, many of you know me as an early riser. It’s 4:30 a.m., as I write these words this morning. That’s my norm. I love the early morning time. It’s generally my most creative time. It’s quiet. I can hear God quite clearly early in the morning. Most times I like what He says to me. Sometimes, I wish He would keep it to Himself…but, I digress. What I’m really trying to say is I slept until after 8 a.m., yesterday. Laid in the bed until 9 a.m. It was a wonderful start to a lazy day.

It was all downhill from there. Here’s a synopsis of my day:

• 9 – 10 a.m.     Read the newspaper (no, it didn’t take that long–I played a game of my phone for a little while!)
• 10 a.m.     My beautiful wife makes me homemade biscuits and scrambled eggs for breakfast!
• 11 a.m.     Gym for a workout
• 12 p.m.     Went to friend’s house to pick up new golf clubs
• 12:30 p.m.     Finally took a shower
• 1:00 p.m.     Read and golf on TV
• 2:00 p.m.     Nap time
• 3:00 p.m.     Go shopping for a bag for my new golf clubs
• 5:00 p.m.     Dinner at my mother-in-law’s house
• 7:00 p.m.     Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives
• 8:00 p.m.     Everybody Loves Raymond
• 9:00 p.m.     I’m in the bed!!!!

Yup. As you can see…I did absolutely nothing yesterday. Which is exactly what I needed to do. So what if I woke up at 3:45 a.m. this morning. I feel incredible. I feel rested. I feel like that’s what a Sabbath is supposed to be.

Maybe I’m just living in anticipation of next week. I’m not just taking a day. I’m taking several. Gonna’ be sitting on the sands of Gulf Shores soaking up the sun with sand between my toes (and probably in my swim suit). Just relaxing and enjoying the view. Nothing scheduled. Nothing planned. Four days of fun and sun (I hope!).

I discovered the value of doing nothing in 2007. We had never been beach people before. Too much trouble packing up four kids, traveling all day to get to the beach. Packing it all up and going back home. Just too much trouble. Then, we took a vacation and actually stayed ON the beach. Sitting on the beach for three days with nothing to do but read and listen to the waves was the best thing I’ve ever done. It’s the only time in my life I felt justified in doing absolutely nothing. It was one of the most refreshing times of my life. I discovered there is great value in doing nothing.

Yesterday was a great reminder for me that doing nothing has value. I used to believe otherwise. I thought I always needed to be doing something productive, and if I wasn’t doing something productive I was being lazy and felt guilty because I wasn’t doing something productive. My time on the beach taught me that doing nothing is actually doing something, and that doing nothing can sometimes be the most productive thing I can do. Doing nothing is refreshing. Doing nothing is renewing. Doing nothing can change a person’s perspective. Doing nothing can prepare a person for the time when there’s plenty to do. As a pastor, there’s always plenty to do. If we always focus on the plenty, we’ll find our strength diminished. We’ll find our focus blurred. We’ll find our priorities misplaced.

That might just be the reason that one of the Ten Commandments is to “Remember to observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. 9 You have six days each week for your ordinary work, 10 but the seventh day is a Sabbath day of rest dedicated to the Lord your God. On that day no one in your household may do any work. This includes you, your sons and daughters, your male and female servants, your livestock, and any foreigners living among you. 11 For in six days the Lord made the heavens, the earth, the sea, and everything in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and set it apart as holy” (Exodus 20: 8-11).

Jesus was pretty good at observing this one, too. No, he didn’t always observe it on the same day. He healed and did good on the Sabbath Day, but when he’d been busy with ministry, he’d always slip away for a time of prayer and reflection.  Mark gives us a glimpse in his gospel of Jesus’ routine. There, after he had sent his disciples out on a ministry tour, they returned to report all that happened:  “The apostles returned to Jesus from their ministry tour and told him all they had done and taught. 31 Then Jesus said, ‘Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.’ He said this because there were so many people coming and going that Jesus and his apostles didn’t even have time to eat. 32 So they left by boat for a quiet place, where they could be alone” (Mark 6:29-32). Okay, so forget for a moment that in this episode five thousand people showed up and Jesus fed them. Look at the bigger point: Jesus wanted to get away. He knew the value of rest, and sought to teach the value to his disciples. We should learn as much.

I don’t have as many lazy days as I’d like, which is probably okay. I’d probably start feeling guilty again if I had more of them. But, I sure did enjoy yesterday, and I’m sure looking forward to next week. So, let me ask you? When was your last Sabbath?

Until next time, keep looking up…

I’ve been in pastoral ministry for over 22 years and this past Sunday I preached my first sermon on heaven. I’ve mentioned heaven countless times in sermons through the years (how could any pastor not?), but I’ve never preached a sermon that focused on the topic heaven. I suppose the closest I’ve come has been at funerals, especially if I was using John 14 as a primary text. You remember John 14?

1 “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. 2 There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? 3 When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.”

Yeah, that makes a pretty good text for funerals, which is about the only time we give any serious consideration to the idea of heaven. I suppose that’s why I’ve never preached an entire sermon on heaven. Heaven’s close association with death doesn’t make for much good Sunday morning sermon fodder.

A couple of years ago, several authors came out with books about heaven. Randy Alcorn had one entitled Heaven. Don Piper did one a little older entitled 90 Minutes in Heaven, and still another that became a New York Times bestseller was Heaven is for Real: A Little Boys Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back, by Todd Burpo. And, of course, Max Lucado has now weighed in with Beyond Heaven’s Doors, which is an adaptation of an earlier book of his re-marketed for renewed sales effect (nothing like a little consumer Christianity, huh?).

I didn’t get too much into the description of heaven, even though the Apostle John gives us a pretty good one in Revelation 21:

10 So he took me in the Spirit[b] to a great, high mountain, and he showed me the holy city, Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God. 11 It shone with the glory of God and sparkled like a precious stone—like jasper as clear as crystal. 12 The city wall was broad and high, with twelve gates guarded by twelve angels. And the names of the twelve tribes of Israel were written on the gates. 13 There were three gates on each side—east, north, south, and west. 14 The wall of the city had twelve foundation stones, and on them were written the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.

15 The angel who talked to me held in his hand a gold measuring stick to measure the city, its gates, and its wall. 16 When he measured it, he found it was a square, as wide as it was long. In fact, its length and width and height were each 1,400 miles.[c] 17 Then he measured the walls and found them to be 216 feet thick[d] (according to the human standard used by the angel).

18 The wall was made of jasper, and the city was pure gold, as clear as glass. 19 The wall of the city was built on foundation stones inlaid with twelve precious stones:[e] the first was jasper, the second sapphire, the third agate, the fourth emerald, 20 the fifth onyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, the twelfth amethyst.

21 The twelve gates were made of pearls—each gate from a single pearl! And the main street was pure gold, as clear as glass.

22 I saw no temple in the city, for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. 23 And the city has no need of sun or moon, for the glory of God illuminates the city, and the Lamb is its light. 24 The nations will walk in its light, and the kings of the world will enter the city in all their glory. 25 Its gates will never be closed at the end of day because there is no night there. 26 And all the nations will bring their glory and honor into the city.

John gives us an image in our mind, but still our minds can’t comprehend it. We can only imagine…like the song says, but imagining it makes it no less real, and imagining it brings us hope. Really, though, me trying to explain what heaven looks like is like me trying to explain how beautiful Ireland is. As much as I long to go there, I’ve never been there. I’ve seen postcards. I’ve watched documentaries, and I’ve even been to Enoch’s Irish Pub (it’s the 2-for-1 burgers!), but I’ve yet to set foot on the pristine green shores of the Emerald Isle. I think I know how beautiful Ireland is, but as I begin to tell others, I can only tell them how beautiful I believe it is. I hope to go there one day, but until I do, I just can’t know.

Of course, then there’s the whole understanding Revelation thing, and what did John mean when he wrote it. What does all the symbolism mean, and if beasts and candlesticks and dragons was symbolic language, is the language of Revelation 21 symbolic, too? It can become very confusing, indeed! It doesn’t make us wonder any less, but it can be all quite confusing.

So what if John can be confusing. That fact doesn’t change my mind that I believe heaven is real. I believe heaven is real for two reasons. Number one, I long for heaven. A few years ago, Billy Joel wrote a song entitled River of Dreams. 

 It’s a pretty catchy little ditty that he wrote in response to his daughter’s questions about what happens when we die. Joel says:

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the jungle of doubt
To a river so deep
I know I’m searching for something
Something so undefined
That it can only be seen
By the eyes of the blind
In the middle of the night

I’m not sure about a life after this
God knows I’ve never been a spiritual man
Baptized by the fire, I wade into the river
That runs to the promised land

Billy Joel can say he’s not a spiritual man, but he really is. His words give him away. He longs to know what’s on the other side of death. He longs for it because he was created to long for it. We all are. We’re all searching for that life everlasting, for heaven. It’s written into our hearts, our minds, and our very souls by God himself. That’s what the writer of Ecclesiastes said in 3:11—God has placed eternity into our hearts. Eternity is written within us. It is a broken and fallen world that causes us to doubt. The longing is just one way I know heaven is real.

Another way I know heaven is real is because I believe in God, and ultimately that’s what heaven is…it is the place where God resides. It is the place where God’s presence gives light and life to everything. More than being the place God resides, everlasting life (can’t talk about everlasting life without talking about heaven) is God’s life, and it is both quantity and quality. I heard the story of the old couple who died and went to heaven. St. Peter was there to greet them. First, he showed them their mansion. The man, overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of it all, asked, “How much does this place cost per night?” St. Peter replied, “Sir, this is Heaven, it doesn’t cost anything.” Then St. Peter took them to the dining room where table upon table was piled high with the most delicious foods you could imagine. Again, overwhelmed by the glory of it all the man asked, “How much for the meals?” St. Peter said, “You forget, this is Heaven, it’s free.” He then took them out back where they saw a fantastically beautiful golf course. As the man stood there open-mouthed St. Peter said, “Now before you ask, there are no greens fees, this is Heaven, everything is free.” The man looked at his wife and said, “You and your confounded bran muffins, I could have been here 10 years ago!”

There is a sense in which we should hasten the day, but we don’t have to do so. We have access to God’s life now through our relationship with Jesus Christ. We get a taste of heaven now. Every time we baptize an infant or an adult, we’re catching a glimpse of heaven. Every time we kneel at an altar and receive the bread and cup, we are literally breaking off a piece of heaven in the here and now. When we do, we find strength to keep moving. We find grace to hold on. We find forgiveness, and mercy, and peace. We find hope, and that’s heaven on earth for sure.

History is moving toward something. Heaven is the place and the time when God’s salvation is ultimately completed. Heaven is about God’s work of salvation in God’s creation. It is the culmination of God’s salvation. All that God has been doing in his creation since the fall of humanity in the Garden of Eden is restored, renewed and reconciled in the new heaven and the new earth. The bible begins with Genesis, and God, the Father, Maker of heaven and earth, and it ends with the restoration and renewal of all that has been broken. We end with heaven.

Just a few thoughts from Sunday. Just a few thoughts from my first ever sermon on heaven.

Until next time, keep looking up…

“Because I’m not the perfect pastor, that’s why!” Someone asked me why I named my blog “Not the Perfect Pastor,” and the foregoing statement was my reply. People read my blog title and see not the perfect pastor, but don’t always see the tag line (or should that be subtitle) “but that doesn’t keep me from trying.” The key for me is in the trying part.

I’m not the perfect pastor. But I long to be the perfect pastor. There are days I don’t want to be a pastor at all (they are few in number, but they happen). There are days that I would rather be anywhere but “at work.” There are days I get frustrated with the “work” of ministry. There are weeks I don’t want to write a sermon. There are days people get under my skin. There are days I let my frustration show in ways that are not necessarily pleasing to God or encouraging to others. But, even on those days, I keep trying. I get up and go to work because that’s what I’m called to do. I can’t do anything else…not because I can’t do anything else, but because there is this divine compulsion that won’t let me do anything else. I long, deep in my heart, to be the perfect pastor, to always say the right thing, to always do the right thing, to have the next sermon be better than the last sermon, to be the best example of grace, forgiveness and love.

There are examples of the perfect pastor I have in my mind. They are men and women who showed the love of Christ in real ways. I know enough to know they were probably not perfect, either, but I know they were always striving to do that which is right, that which reflected the best of Jesus even while dealing with the worst of humanity. That reality gives meaning to the admonition Paul gave to Timothy “hold on to the wholesome teaching you learned from me” (2 Timothy 1:13). That was Paul’s way of saying “follow my example.” I want to get to the point in my life where I CAN say “follow my example.” Others have gone before me and given me the example of how to be a great, if not perfect, pastor. I keep trying, even when I fail, because I don’t want their example to be in vain. Nah! I won’t mention names of these people. Some are still living, and I wouldn’t want to ruin my idea of their perfection. They’d call me and say something like, “If you only knew…”

I don’t know why I think I should be the perfect pastor. I’m not perfect at anything else, either. I’m not the perfect husband. Just ask Vanessa. No, on second thought, don’t ask her. But, the fact that I’m not the perfect husband doesn’t keep me from trying. I keep trying to do those things that would make me the perfect husband. I keep saying “I love you” every day. I will surprise her occasionally with flowers or a card (probably not as often as I should, but hey, I’m not perfect). I try to remember to clean up after myself. I try to let her know what’s happening in my work life so she doesn’t wonder. I try to be an encouragement to her when it appears she’s having a bad day. Do I always get it right? Heavens no! But, still I try.

I’m also not the perfect parent. As much as I long to be, I’m not. How many times have I sat around and wished I could do it over again. How I’ve counted the things I would do differently in my parenting. I never spent as much time with them as I should. I never had the right words at the right time…you know, like you see on TV and in the movies (think Bill Cosby here, or if you’re really old think Robert Young or Ozzie Nelson). I suppose if I had hired a group of writers who had a week to script my reality, things would have been different. I didn’t. They aren’t. So, I keep trying. I still have time to be the perfect parent. I still have time to get a few things right with my children. I still have time to tell them I love them. I still have time to offer them better advice. I still have time to model the type of behavior that will help them be better parents and disciples. The key will be to practice those things in my own life now. Will I always get it right? No, but I’ll keep trying because I want to be the perfect parent. I can still do it.

Apparently, I’m not even the perfect blogger, either. The perfect blogger would blog every day (you know who you are!), and would have the perfect words to say on almost every subject, combined with the right amount of humor, the appropriate amount of sarcasm, a touch of political satire, and yes, just the right length so as not to be a drain for people to read. But, I’m not perfect, and sometimes I will go ten or twelve days without blogging (not a very good way to build followers, is it?), and even then, I struggle with something to write. Seriously, it’s supposed to be an on-line journal, but I can’t post everything I like to journal about. That would really destroy your picture of me (at least I like to think it would–which demonstrates, yet again, that I’m not perfect). But, just because I’m not posting doesn’t mean I’m not wanting to, or even that I’m not writing, or thinking about writing. And so, I keep trying, sometimes not so perfectly, but trying anyway.

I keep trying. I keep trying because I do want to be better, and I believe I can be better. Why do I believe that? One word–grace. I’m nothing if not Wesleyan, and I believe that we “go on to perfection.” It would be really easy to try to explain what “perfection” is from a Wesleyan perspective, but this post would get long, and you’d get bored, and it would detract from the reality that I believe I can and will do better than I’ve done in the past because Jesus gives us grace to do so, if we will open ourselves to the Spirit’s power and submit ourselves to His guidance. Isn’t that what Paul meant in Romans 8:2 when he wrote, “And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death.” I think Paul reiterated it in verses 12-13, “Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, you have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do. 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.”

Key for me is opening myself to the Spirit’s power in my life. Putting myself in the place where the Spirit can do His work in me, for it is the Spirit’s work to “perfect” me, not mine. My work is to be in the place where He can work, and then let Him. I do that through prayer. I pray daily to live a life of character and integrity. Sometimes He answers that prayer, other days I don’t allow Him to answer it. I do that through a daily discipline of bible reading and meditation. I do that through opening myself to accountability from colleagues and brothers and sisters along the journey. I do that by intentionally practicing those spiritual disciplines that open myself to the work and guidance of the Holy Spirit in my life. No, I don’t always get it right, but I keep trying, and a lot of days I get it right, not because I’ve done it well, but because I was open to the Spirit working in me. I believe there is grace and growth even in the trying.

We Wesleyans call this whole process sanctification. We believe in it. If we believe in it, maybe we should practice it a bit more. So, please, don’t get hung up on the “Not the Perfect” part of my blog title. If anything, focus on the “keep trying” part. Better yet, keep trying with me.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Sometimes I feel like I need to belong to a 12-step program to help me deal with my issue. I feel compelled to stand up and confess that I’m an evangelical (much like an alcoholic stands up and confesses in front of his/her group), as though about the only thing one shouldn’t be in the United Methodist Church is evangelical. I’m also getting the sense that it’s not just in the UM world that being evangelical is frowned upon. Unfortunately, when I say “evangelical,” too many folks hear, “right-wing, bible thumping, turn-or-burn, divisive, hard-line, hate-filled, intolerant, mean-spirited, and homophobic.” These are all terms I’ve heard or read to describe evangelicalism in recent months. I sure hope that doesn’t describe me!

I don’t know what others mean when I say “evangelical,” but I can tell you what I mean. When I say I’m an evangelical, I mean that I believe a relationship with Jesus Christ is THE most transformative event in a person’s life, and that every person needs (yes, I said “needs”) to know Christ in a life-transforming way. Okay, call it “born again” if you want (Jesus didn’t have much problem calling it that when he talked to Nicodemus), or call it “justification” since we’re being good Wesleyans, but whatever we call it, call it accepting Jesus Christ as both Lord and Savior.

I spent over eight years as a deputy sheriff for the Jackson Parish Sheriff’s Office. I entered law enforcement because I wanted to help people. I soon discovered, though (and perhaps this is what put me on my journey toward ministry), that the type of help most people needed was not the type of help law enforcement can provide. I discovered, in small town law enforcement, that we were dealing with the same people over and over again. A change in their circumstances didn’t equal a change in them. I discovered most of the problems people had were heart problems—spiritual problems. Change a heart and change a life. I also discovered along the way the primary heart that needed changing was my own. An encounter with Jesus changes our hearts. It changes us. He saves us. Yes, from our sins, but also from ourselves. My “evangelical” nature also means that I believe it is the cross of Jesus Christ that makes a life-transforming relationship with Jesus possible. He died to redeem fallen humanity and reconcile us to God, the Father.

Acknowledging that one needs to be transformed by the saving grace of God in Jesus Christ would, I think, also be an acknowledgment that following Jesus is a life-long process (yes, I said “process,”), and if life-long, then sanctifying grace becomes an important companion along the journey. Change is not something that happens only once. Following Jesus affects every area of our lives. It impacts the job we have. It influences the car we drive. It determines how we utilize the resources entrusted to us. Children, go where I send thee, takes on a whole new meaning when Jesus is Lord. I sing with the hymn writer, “All to Jesus, I surrender, All to Him I freely give. I will ever love and trust Him, in His presence daily live.” Unfortunately, I too often find myself singing “Some to Jesus, I surrender, Some to Him I freely give…I surrender some.” That’s because, as an evangelical, I believe following Jesus is a process, and I’m still in process.

Being “evangelical” also means that I have a high regard for God’s Word, the Bible. I’m sorry that I don’t believe it’s just another book, or just another in a long line of religious writings. I believe that God has something to say to us, and for whatever reason, God has chosen to speak most clearly through His Son, Jesus, and through His Word, the Bible. I am Wesleyan to the core, but at the core of my Wesleyan theological framework is scripture–you know, scripture, tradition, reason and experience? Foundational for me is scripture, and it becomes the starting point, or should I say the lens through which my view of life begins. I said it was the starting point, not the ending point, but I don’t necessarily believe that tradition, reason and experience hold the same influence as scripture. I hope one doesn’t find that “hard-line.” I certainly don’t mean it that way.

I’d like to say that because I’m “evangelical” that I am always obedient to the Bible, that I always get it right. My experience has taught me otherwise way too many times. Sometimes, I just blow it. You don’t have to follow me around very long to discover that. But, being “evangelical” doesn’t mean I’m perfect. No self-respecting evangelical I know would ever say that. It only means I can’t rely on my experience alone to interpret right from wrong, or understand God’s will, or speak definitively about what should be the course for humanity and the church. Experience, jaded by sin as it is, is far too unpredictable to be that definitive.

As a committed evangelical, I also believe that God desires to use us to transform the world, that there must be a commitment to social reform and social justice, that missions matter, and they matter greatly. I believe that life transformation happens in relationship, and our lives are changed greatest when we’re engaged with the least, the lost, the hurting, the lonely, the broken and any who are on the margins (we could have a real discussion about who is on the margins, but that should be another blog, and you’d likely call me “mean-spirited” and “divisive”).

There, in a few words, is what I mean when I say I’m an “evangelical.” Sometimes, I get the sense that a person can be anything he/she wants to be, just don’t be “evangelical.” I am, though. I can’t help it! So…

Hi, my name is Lynn, and I’m an evangelical!

Until next time, keep looking up…

Perhaps it’s time for some rambling this morning. I’m up early, so, why not? It’s been over a week since I blogged. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to blog about…trust me…God still continues to have a sense of humor. He laughs at me everyday, and He has done much to remind me not to take myself too seriously. He has dropped little hints around to remind me that He’s still in control, and He takes His greatest joy in helping me to stay humble. Here’s proof:

It’s my first Sunday in this new appointment (my first, mind you!). Now, I’m no technological whiz by any means, but I can, at least, turn a computer on, create a blog page and monitor facebook. I figure, I’m starting a new appointment, this is the 21st Century, and I want to “do things differently” than my predecessor, so what do I do? I show up my first Sunday to preach and I have no bible or sermon notes. I have only my new tablet computer (nope, not an ipad–that might have been my first mistake), and I’m going to dazzle this new congregation with my technological savvy and read the bible and preach my sermon using only my tablet. This’ll be great!

My first Sunday was June 30, which, by the way, is the Sunday before July 4th. The congregation was only having one service (we normally have 3), so the house is packed. Everyone wanted to show up and hear the new guy (yes, that’s right, it’s all about me), and I was ready to impress. The time comes for me to preach. I take my tablet and open my bible app to read the scripture. It opens right where it’s supposed to open. The first sentence of the text is at the bottom of the screen. I drag my finger across the screen to move the page…and it skips a page. I page it back. It goes back to the opening screen. There’s the first sentence of the text. Okay. I read it again…swipe my finger again, and…it skips a page. I can’t read my text. No, I didn’t memorize it. All I can think is…well, I can’t write what I actually thought (no, I’m not the perfect pastor), but let’s just say, my temperature jumps a few degrees and my face reddens. A third attempt and I get the same result. My bible app on my tablet actually has page numbers. On this morning, it decides to jump from page 1091 to 1093. No page 1092, which is where the rest of my text for the morning resides.

I do the only thing I know to do. I step out of the pulpit, step down to the congregation, and there, on the front row, a first-time visitor sits holding one of the pew bibles open to my chosen text. He reaches out, with saving grace, and offers me the bible. How do I know he was a first-time visitor (no, not because he was sitting on the front row)? It just so happened I was standing in the hallway by the door when he came in, and I introduced myself to him. Here’s just one of the funny parts of the story: The man introduces himself as a pastor from another denomination who isn’t preaching this day and decided to visit with us (Seriously?). Anyway, he was my saving grace on my first Sunday. He was actually one of the few people who picked up the pew bible to follow along.

All I could think of was how embarrassed I felt, and how embarrassing it was going to be if my tablet failed to open my sermon notes. Luckily, the tablet functioned properly when I got to my sermon, which is a good thing, because I had no back-up plan. I’m sure the guest on the front row was not going to miraculously pull out my sermon notes had the tablet failed. All-in-all, it was a very humbling reminder that God is in control, and he must have figured I needed a little humbling that first Sunday. In case you’re wondering, I’ve carried my old-fashioned bible to the pulpit with me every Sunday since. It always works!

So, the second Sunday I show up to preach. I’ve done my work diligently all week, and again, I get my notes ready to preach…on my tablet. We’re back on schedule with three services. I rise to preach at the 8:30 a.m. service, swipe my finger across my tablet, my sermon notes appear, and I’m good to go. I begin preaching, lay my tablet down on the communion rail for a moment, and when I pick it back up…no notes. The tablet shut itself down. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. IT WON’T COME BACK ON! God! Really! You’re doing this to me again? What deep theological statement are you trying to make, Lord? Or, are you just trying to embarrass me in this new congregation? A thousand things are going through my mind. I try to be cool. Can’t show my frustration here. Just gotta’ do what I gotta’ do.

I go to plan B (yes, I had a plan B this week, and it did not include any member of the congregation). I was prepared for any eventuality this week. I emailed myself a copy of my sermon, and I just happened to have it on my phone (now there’s a smartphone for you). I pulled my phone out of its holster, swiped a couple of times, and voila, there was my sermon. Do you know how awkward it feels to hold your smartphone in your hand while your preaching? Really awkward. But, it worked. Two Sundays down. Two glaring reminders that I might be a little too big for my breeches.

I figured the Lord had sufficiently humbled me over those two weeks, but I was wrong. The third Sunday arrives and we’ve got two baptisms scheduled for the 10:50 a.m., worship. I’m excited because these will be my first baptisms in the new congregation. I’m really getting to be a pastor now! Right? Right! The time comes for the parents and infants to come forward. They’re all dressed in their best baptism togs. It’s a beautiful scene. I begin the baptism liturgy, doing my best to ask the questions to the parents in a serious tone. I get to the final question before we consecrate the water, I remind the parents of the serious nature of the vow they are taking, and all of the sudden, in the same moment I see IT, I hear IT. IT is so loud, I thought to myself, that had to pick up on the microphone. SQUISH! SPLAT! And, like IT had been shot out of a cannon, IT shoots out all over the dad’s shirt and tie, and starts piling up on the floor in front of the communion rail. IT is everywhere, the dad looks down, and all he can say is, “Now? Really?” I look around, and it’s all my associate can do to contain himself. I look at the dad. All I can think to say is, “I think we need a diaper.” Mom and grandmother are scrambling, and I’m thinking, “God, what do you have planned for week number 4?” After the parents and grandparents have cleaned IT up, I look at the parents and say, “I think I should ask that last question again.”

Well, the babies got baptized. It was a memorable moment made even more memorable by IT, and I’m sure that story will get told at the little boy’s wedding, but it reminded me one more time that God is in control, that everything I am and have, I have because of His grace. The Lord took three weeks to remind me that I ought not think too much myself, that there are just too many things beyond my control.

I’ve looked around over the past couple of weeks and I can only think how blessed I am to be where I am. It would be so easy for me to buy into the idea that I deserve to be where I am, that I’ve worked hard and earned a spot at one of the best (I think THE best) churches in our Annual Conference. The truth is I don’t deserve to be here. I am here by God’s grace, and He is in control.

That’s life, though. None of us deserve anything (regardless of what advertisers tell us). All of life is grace. The Apostle Paul reminds us that what we deserve is death, but what we receive is life in Jesus Christ. I’m wondering if what God was reminding me on these three Sundays was, “What you deserve is IT, but I can take a little bit of water and demonstrate to you and to the world that I make all things new.” Now, that’s what I call grace.

Okay, you’ve got my attention, Lord. It’s not about me. I’m sufficiently humbled (for now), and I really can’t wait to see what you have for us next.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Here’s what I’m thinking this morning (as if you wanted to know):

I wrote on a previous blog page there are, I think, five characteristics to healthy discipleship and to healthy congregations. First is spiritual growth (duh!). A healthy disciple is one who is committed to engaging in those practices that promote healthy spirituality. The practices that promote spiritual growth are really not that hard. They are time consuming if done appropriately, but they are not really hard. Let’s see, there’s:

• Prayer (okay, this may seem hard, but it doesn’t have to be)
• Bible study (there are lots of ways to do this–it doesn’t always take a concordance or bible dictionary)
• Fasting (okay, I take it back, practicing the spiritual disciplines can be hard!)
• Meditation
• Solitude (getting away from the distractions of life)
• Silence (a companion of solitude)
• Fellowship (not only a spiritual discipline, but a characteristic of healthy discipleship)

There are probably a few I’ve missed, but these are practices that every disciple of Jesus Christ should practice at some time or another if he/she desires to grow in their relationship with Jesus Christ.

A second characteristic of healthy discipleship is generosity. I won’t go into the details of living a generous life, but I’ll remind myself that I’m blessed to be a blessing. Enough said? I thought so.

A third characteristic of healthy discipleship is evangelism. Yeah, this one scares a lot of people away, but a healthy disciple is one who is prepared to share the gospel or show the gospel. This really isn’t as hard as everyone makes it out to be. It can be as simple as inviting a person to worship, or to a service opportunity, or even to a concert. Just invite. It’s still the number one way an unchurched or dechurched person connects with the body of Christ.

A fourth characteristic of healthy discipleship is worship. When I say worship, I’m speaking of both corporately worship (we are a COMMUNITY of faith–kind of hard to be a community when we don’t gather Together!) and privately, and regular participation in the sacraments.

The fifth characteristic (which is the one I really wanted to write about today) of a healthy disciple is service. Service is, in a real way, as much spiritual discipline, but I think that could be said about worship and generosity, too. When I speak of service, there is a phrase I like to use: Every disciple of Jesus Christ gives service TO the body of Christ and service THROUGH the body of Christ. Let me unpack that just a little.

I have previously written: “My dream is one day to have a principle named after me, and I want it to be known as the 100% rule. You know? 100% of the work of the body being performed by 100% of the disciples of Jesus Christ.” I believe service is the key to connecting new people to the body of Christ, and to sustaining long-term health as a disciple of Jesus. Our service TO the body of Christ is a means whereby we participate in the pastoral care of our local congregation, and we’re all called to “lift one another up.” Pastoral care is all our concern, not just the “pastors,” or those with the “gift” of pastoral care.

Pastoral care takes place when I sing in the choir or praise team, and lead the congregation in worship. Pastoral care takes place when I clean and prepare the sanctuary for worship. Pastoral care takes place when I send a prayer card to a shut-in or hospital patient. Pastoral care takes place when I help the office staff fold bulletins or newsletters. Pastoral care takes place when I serve as an usher, or a greeter, or fix the coffee on Sunday morning. Pastoral care happens when I unlock the building and adjust the heating or cooling before people arrive for worship. Pastoral care happens when I carry out the trash. Pastoral care occurs when I operate the sound system. Pastoral care occurs when I contact the first-time guests. Pastoral care occurs when I teach a Sunday school class or bible study. Pastoral care happens when I prepare gift bags for shut-ins, those in the hospital, or first-time guests. Do you catch my drift? That’s right! Every ministry we offer TO the body of Christ is pastoral care because they are tangible ways we support and care for one another, thus building up the body of Christ. Pastoral care is so much more than saying a prayer for sick folks, or holding the hand of a person going through a crisis. It is that, but it is so much more. Where is God calling you to service TO the body of Christ?

Then, there is service THROUGH the body of Christ. This is that service that reaches most effectively the unchurched and dechurched of the world. Service through the body of Christ is that ministry that engages in hands-on, life-transforming ways with the least and the lost. It is where the body engages those on the margins, the poor, the homeless, the broken. It is lived out in tutoring programs, in mission trips (locally, nationally and internationally), in food ministries, in clothing ministries, in school uniform ministries, in child-care ministries, in recovery ministries, in financial planning ministries, in home-building ministries, and in a thousand other creative ways that touch people in life-transforming ways. Service THROUGH the body of Christ is that service that builds relationships (face-to-face, hand-to-hand) with unchurched and dechurched people. The relationship is where the transformation occurs, not the service. The service provides the opportunity to build the relationship. Jesus changes lives through service–he changes our lives and he changes the lives of others through us. Where are you offering service THROUGH the body of Christ?

A healthy disciple is one who gives service TO the body, and offers service THROUGH the body. Yes, a healthy disciple also worships, and gives, and studies, and evangelizes, but a disciple is not a disciple until a disciple also serves. Yes, it’s that important. It absolutely MUST be part of the culture of the 21st century congregation.

I think it’s time we get our service on!

Until next time, keep looking up…

I grew up in a General Mercantile store. For those who may not know what a General Mercantile is, it’s Wal-Mart before Wal-Mart was cool (that’s assuming Wal-Mart was EVER cool!). It was the store in the small town where a person went to do one-stop shopping. My grandfather owned the store. I believe that store had more to do with shaping me as a person than perhaps anything else.

The General Mercantile was a magical place. There were endless opportunities to explore, there were endless people to encounter, there were endless places to hide, there were endless stacks to pilfer. One end of my grandfather’s store was reserved for hardware. One side was reserved for dry goods (clothes, shoes, small kitchen appliances), the back was reserved for feed and seed, and the front, well, that area was reserved for groceries. At one time, my grandfather even sold radios and televisions. He had an old workbench in an area between the feed and seed department and the meat market where he worked on televisions and radios.

I spent my growing-up years hanging around the store. After school often found me at the store (if there wasn’t ball practice). Saturdays were spent at the store. When I reached the age of 12, Pa put me on the “payroll,” and I “worked my way” through school. Almost every Saturday was spent as a bag boy at the store. If there weren’t groceries to bag and take to people’s cars, I could generally be found sporting a broom sweeping up dirt. It was dusty in that old store–it sat on the main street, and the door was kept open from April – September. Every time a car passed on the main street, the wind brought dirt and dust blowing into the store.

Wow! Saturday was a busy day! In those days (ha! I feel old saying that!), people came to town on Saturday. Having lived in Monroe the past two years, and in places like Benton, Minden and Morgan City, previously, it’s funny to think of people coming to Chatham and thinking they were “going to town,” but I remember growing up when a trip to Monroe was a once a month thing, and that was often only to go to the doctor or hospital. Heck, when I was young, there was even a doctor in Chatham. The streets of our little town (Chatham) would be lined with cars on Saturday. There were two other grocery stores in town at the time, but none had the extensive selection of items my grandfather had. There was also a barber shop, the bank, the City Café (which was a converted movie theater) and three gas stations in “downtown” Chatham. The town was abuzz with activity, and I can remember just wishing for 5:00 p.m. (I guess we’re born with that gene, huh?).

Life in the General Mercantile shaped me more than probably anything else. How so? I love people. There is little doubt in my mind that my love for people is deeply rooted in my time spent at the General store. I love to hear people’s stories, where they’ve come from, where they’ve been. I love to hear the lies they tell, the tragedies they’ve experienced, and the success they’ve attained (both real and imagined). There was an old stove that sat in the middle of the General store. In the wintertime people would gather around the old stove and tell all those stories. I learned to listen to those stories. I learned to love those stories. I still do today. I catch myself all the time asking people, “Where are you from?” or “What do you do for a living?” That curiosity is borne out of meeting people in that old store.

I also learned how to treat people in that old store. Across the street, in the City Café, there was still a front door and a back door. There was a front counter and a back counter, if you get my meaning. Yeah, it was the 1970’s, and things were still a bit confusing in the small town. Not at the General Store. There was one door, well, there was the front door and two back doors. One back door was where we loaded out the appliances and other big ticket items in hardware and dry goods, and the other back door was where we loaded out the feed and seed. Everyone with money came through the front door. There was no black or white at the General Mercantile. The only color that mattered was green. My grandparents treated every customer the same, with the same respect, and with the same courtesy.

I learned my work ethic in that store, too. One of the legacies my grandfather left me (well, all my grandparents–okay, my parents, too) was a strong work ethic. He ran that store six days a week from 7 a.m. – 6 p.m., and he got up on Sunday morning and used the excuse of going to check on the “cold” boxes to go to the store. He was there on Sunday from around 8 a.m. – Noon. It was his way of getting around the “blue” laws in those days (there’s that phrase again). He wasn’t technically open, but he never turned anyone away who happened to knock on the door while he was reading the paper and “checking” on the coolers. He worked all his life. He was big on customer service. I often think my attentiveness to a person’s experience when they come to the church is driven by watching and learning customer service from my grandfather.

There were probably a few less-than-stellar lessons I learned hanging around that old store. Entitlement is one that comes to mind. I’ll just say it. My brothers and me, and our cousins were spoiled by that old store. We had run of the place when we were there. There was an old Coca-Cola machine (boy, wish I had that now!) that stood in the front corner. It wasn’t a vending machine. It had the door that opened, you pulled out your favorite beverage, and took it to the counter and paid. My brothers and cousins didn’t have to pay. Any time we wanted a drink, we got one. That simple. Not good! The same with the candy counter. There was a big glass case that sat right at the front door. You actually had to go around it to get into the store. It was filled with all types of candy and other sweet treats. Throughout the day, we simply walked by and picked up what we wanted. Pa or Mama Kit never said a thing. There’s no telling how much we cost our grandparents in sodas and candy. We couldn’t wait to get out of school everyday so we could go by the store and get a cold soda and a candy bar. It spoiled us. I can tell.

Our lives are shaped by all our experiences, both positively and negatively, often from the same experience. Those experiences have made us who we are. God has used them to shape us. He has used the experience of the General Store to nurture my love for His people. He uses the experience of the General Store to gently call me to accountability when greed and a sense of entitlement start to drive my decisions. I suppose it’s another way “that God causes all things to work together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose for them” Romans 8:28 (NLT).

Don’t know why, I just woke up in a nostalgic mood this morning. I loved that old store!

Until next time, keep looking up…

Vanessa and I once took ballroom dance lessons. It was fun. We learned the basic steps for the foxtrot and the waltz. I can still hear, “slow, slow, quick, quick,” and “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…” in my head, and I can sort of remember how our feet are supposed to move, but I’ve really lost most of what we were taught. Part of the problem? We never actually went ballroom dancing. We just learned the steps.

I don’t feel like I was very good at ballroom dancing. I felt stiff when I moved. I felt like I was always searching for a rhythm and never quite finding it. I’m not sure if that means I have no rhythm, or I didn’t try long enough to discover I did.

Life for me right now feels a little like I’m trying to ballroom dance. It’s lacking rhythm. That’s one of the things change does for us–it throws off our rhythm, it breaks our routine. That’s a bad thing for me. I’m one who does best with a routine. I suppose I should be out-of-step just a little. Let’s see, moving to a new home, taking a new job, meeting new people. Yeah, there’s been just a little change recently. I need to cut myself some slack, right? I am. I’m not trying to be too hard on myself for being out-of-step, I’m just processing how uncomfortable it feels. I feel stiff. I feel like I’m searching for rhythm. I feel like I did when I was learning how to ballroom dance.

I remember feeling the same way two years ago when I left the local congregation to become District Superintendent. Now, there’s a job with no rhythm to it. The travel demands make it difficult to cultivate a routine that is stable enough to call a routine. Eventually, though, the routine of no routine became easier to manage, and there was some rhythm that flowed from the job (even if it was just the rhythm of always packing the suitcase–I actually got pretty good at throwing things in a suitcase). It just took time.

It’s amazing how easily we get out of the habit of doing things. It’s amazing how hard it is to get back in the habit again. When a guy is accustomed to writing sermons week in and week out, it comes easier. When you haven’t written a weekly sermon for two years, you get out of the habit. Yeah, I’ve written sermons, but not weekly. I thought writing a blog would help to keep that routine in check. It’s not the same. I did discover that blogging gave me a new routine, but blogging is not sermon writing. Honestly, you really don’t have to do much exegesis to write a blog. You can’t write a sermon without exegesis. Well, you can, but it’s not much of a sermon. (I suppose someone might be wondering what “exegesis” is? It’s a Greek word literally meaning “to draw or lead out of,” and practically means “critical analysis and interpretation of a text, particularly a religious text.” There’s your word study for the day. Now employ exegesis in a sentence.)

There’s a big difference in reading the Bible devotionally and reading the Bible critically. I’ve read the Bible devotionally (almost daily) for the past two years. Critically, not so much. Sermon preparation and weekly Bible study preparation keeps the critical skills honed. Though I have written a few sermons over the past two years, I’ve not prepared one Bible study. I’ve got to reengage those critical skills again. I’m actually expected to lead a Bible study in church. Can you believe that? I’ve got to re-discover the dance, the routine, the rhythm of that kind of study and preparation. I really am out of the habit. Should I be confessing that?

Okay, here’s another confession. I’ve been pastor for a week now. I’ve found myself sitting at my desk asking myself the question: What am I supposed to be doing? I know I’m supposed to be doing something, but I haven’t quite figured out what it is. I know it’s because I’m searching for that rhythm. I know it will come. It just takes time. And practice. Like ballroom dancing. The more you do it, the better you get at it. Yes, I was much better when we completed the lessons than when we started. I actually felt like I could learn these new dances, that I really could, given enough time, be graceful, be light on my feet.

I’m also reminding myself that the staff, the congregation, and even Vanessa and my family, are all learning a few new steps, too. The staff and the congregation are learning how to dance with me as I’m learning how to dance with them. Vanessa and my family have me as their pastor again. That’s a reclamation of an old role, but it’s a new dance for them. So, we’re all searching for that new rhythm. We’re all learning a few new steps. We’ll misstep along the way, but eventually, it’ll click. We’ll get in step and the result will be beautiful. It will be a graceful dance that will have eternal implications.

So, strike up the band! Let’s dance!

Until next time, keep looking up…