miracles

An Old Fuddy-Duddy…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Well, I took a week off from preaching (and writing) after Easter. I suppose everyone needs a day off, right? Actually, the Sunday after Easter is known (at least to Senior Pastors) as National Associate Pastors Sunday! It’s the Sunday when, if you’re an associate Pastor, you finally get to preach. Everyone knows that Senior Pastors always take the Sunday after Easter off.

I am no longer a Senior Pastor…just a regular old pastor, but I still took the Sunday off, not for any other reason than I received an invitation to go with my son and two of my grandsons (and a few others) to the LSU vs. Tennessee baseball series in Baton Rouge. I figured, “Why not?” I am grateful for the invitation and grateful for the time away with my son and grandsons (we did a few other fun things besides go to the ball games). But, man! Did I learn something on this trip!

I learned (again) that I’m old! The older I get, the more of a fuddy-duddy I become. I don’t want to be a fuddy-duddy. I wake up most days and say to myself, “Self, don’t be a fuddy-duddy today,” but invariably, the devil gets up in my business, and before I know it, the fuddy-duddy in me rears his ugly head and there I am having to repent for being a fuddy-duddy.

This old fuddy-duddy learned that he doesn’t like crowds much anymore. The LSU-Tennessee 3-game series was the largest attendance series in Alex Box Stadium history, and the Saturday evening game was the largest single-game attendance in stadium history. Three days of large crowds absolutely wore me out! Three days of large crowds was just a bit too much for me. And, Friday night it rained. Everyone huddled under the bleachers to get out of the rain. It was easy to tell who hadn’t showered that morning!

I kept telling myself, “Hush, you old fuddy-duddy! You’re with your son and grandsons. Just enjoy the moment.” For the most part, I (well, me and the Holy Spirit) kept the old fuddy-duddy at bay, but I tell you, those large crowds like to got the best of me.

This old fuddy-duddy also learned that he likes his bedtime. Most nights, you will find me in bed by 8:30 p.m. Not last weekend! Friday night’s game didn’t even begin until 9:55 p.m. (due to the rain delay). I’m sorry, but I didn’t make it. I left before the game even started (I know–fuddy-duddy, right?) and still didn’t get to bed until after 11 p.m. Can you say, “Worn out?” Well, I was.

Saturday’s game started at 7:00 p.m., and I made it until the bitter end (bitter because LSU lost). That only means it was after midnight before I got back to my hotel room and made it to bed. Midnight? Really? That’s only three hours away from my normal getting up time! What was I thinking? I was thinking, “Shut up you old fuddy-duddy. You’re with your son and grandsons. Enjoy the moment.” For the most part, the Holy Spirit and I kept the old fuddy-duddy at bay, but I tell you, those late nights almost killed me.

I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I should just be keeping all this stuff to myself, continuing to repress the old fuddy-duddy in me. I suppose it’s just my way of revealing that the Lord’s sanctifying grace has still got some work to do in this old pastor. I’m grateful that He’s still graceful enough to continue his work, and that He is still in the transformation business.

I am reminded that He is still in the transformation business because I’ve been reflecting on John 2: 1 – 11:

2 On the third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there,2 and Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3 When the wine was gone, Jesus’ mother said to him, “They have no more wine.”

4 “Woman, why do you involve me?” Jesus replied. “My hour has not yet come.”

5 His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”

6 Nearby stood six stone water jars, the kind used by the Jews for ceremonial washing,each holding from twenty to thirty gallons.

7 Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water”; so they filled them to the brim.

8 Then he told them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the banquet.”

They did so, 9 and the master of the banquet tasted the water that had been turned into wine. He did not realize where it had come from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called the bridegroom aside 10 and said, “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.”

11 What Jesus did here in Cana of Galilee was the first of the signs through which he revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

It is Jesus’ first miracle, and He turns water into wine. It was John’s way of saying Jesus comes to transform the old covenant of the law into a new covenant of grace. There is a whole lot more to unpack than that simple statement, but that’s the crux of John’s inclusion of the event in his gospel. Hey? If Jesus can do that, there’s no limit to what He can do in you and me.

Jesus is in the transformation business. We think transformation comes from a new hairdo or wardrobe. Get a better job or learn a new skill. Lose weight or get a face lift. Jesus doesn’t want to change our looks, he wants to change our heart. He doesn’t want to give us a new suit; he wants to make us a new person. He doesn’t want to rearrange us; he wants to transform us. We want to look better on the outside. He wants to make us new on the inside.

That transformation will show on the outside. When Jesus changed the water into wine, he did not just change the color and fool the people’s taste buds — he actually changed the water into wine. When the water was turned to wine, the shame of the bridal family was turned to joy. The mood of the party was transformed. And Jesus’ disciples were transformed, too. Verse 11 says, “This miraculous sign…was Jesus first display of his glory. And his disciples believed in him.”

My prayer is that He transforms this old fuddy-duddy…that the work He desires to do on the inside of me will make its way to the outside, so everyone else doesn’t see that I’m just an old fuddy-duddy. I really do want my son and grandsons to know how much I enjoyed our time together, and how grateful I am for the opportunity provided by someone else’s generosity.

Oh, well, it’s time to get ready for worship.

Until next time, keep looking up…

A Glimpse Inside a Preacher’s Mind…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

I went to church last Sunday. I heard a good sermon from a good preacher. These former United Methodists, though, they are in uncharted waters. The preacher who was preaching was doing so “in view of a call” to be the church’s pastor. The congregation was handing out ballots so the people could vote. It just seemed all so Baptist to me, but we are living in a new world as former United Methodists, aren’t we?

A Critical Mind

I did what I usually do when I attend worship where I’m not preaching. I critiqued the sermon. Don’t judge me! I suspect it is what most preachers do when they attend worship. They’ll probably tell you otherwise, but only a few (those really holy few) really mean it.

What is there to critique? Well, there is first the choice of text. Unless the preacher is preaching from the Revised Common Lectionary, I wonder why the preacher chose the text he/she chose. Did the preacher spend time in deep prayer and devotion and was moved by the Spirit to preach this text? Or, did the preacher just pull out an old sermon, dust it off, freshen it up and preach it?

Next, I can usually find a reason to critique the points of the sermon. “Well, I don’t know if I would have included that in the message.” “Interesting direction he/she took with that point.” “That application doesn’t really work with that point.” “I think I could have found a better illustration for that point.” And on it could go…

Then, I can usually find a critique of the preacher’s exegesis. Exegesis is one of those three dollar theological words that simply means “read out of.” It is taking the biblical text and bringing out the meaning, rather than reading meaning into the text.

Let me see if I can say it another way: Reading into the text (called eisogesis) would be like saying, “This is what the text means to me.” Reading out of the text would be saying, “This is what the author meant when he wrote the text.” There is a world of difference between the two.

Finally, I can usually find a critique or two on the preacher’s delivery. The preacher’s dress code, the preacher’s cadence, the preacher’s inflection, the preacher’s diction. And, on it could go…

Not to worry, though. I know that when I preach to a congregation that has other preachers in it, I’m probably getting the same treatment. Nonetheless, we preach on in spite of the critique. And, seriously, the guy is a good preacher and he preached a good sermon. That’s what you do when you’re preaching in view of a call (it still sounds strange saying that as a Methodist).

A Thoughtful Mind

How do I know the sermon was a good sermon? Because it was thought-provoking. The notes I made from the message cover the worship folder from the service.

The scripture for the message was Matthew 14: 22 – 33–

22 Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. 23 After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, 24 and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.

25 Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. 26 When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.

27 But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

28 “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

29 “Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

32 And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33 Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

So, here’s your opportunity to get a glimpse into how my mind works when I’m listening to someone else preach.

Thinking About Peter

The preacher’s message prompted me to look at the event from Peter’s perspective. My first thought was, “I wonder how many steps Peter took on the water?” Did he take one and then began to sink? Did he take ten before he began sinking? Even if he took one step, what a miracle that is because people don’t walk on water!

Also, Peter was actually willing to get out of the boat. What a risk of faith! Those who are willing to take the risk of faith generally reap the greatest rewards. Seems like there is a sermon in there to me. I’ll come back to this note another day. Yeah, I know, John Ortberg wrote an entire book about it. Nonetheless, I can put my own spin on it.

Peter, even in the midst of great faith, exhibited doubt and fear. No one is perfect…not even Peter…even as great as his faith was. Even the greatest among us can be overcome by doubt and fear…even in the midst of a miracle. Maybe it’s in the midst of a miracle that the devil shows up to do his most deceptive work?

Thinking About the other Disciples

I also think about the disciples who remained in the boat. I first got the impression that the disciples who remained in the boat are like most followers of Jesus. We are unwilling to take the risk of faith. The safest place is in the boat in the middle of the storm.

Interestingly, though, even disciples who aren’t willing to take the risk of faith still reap the benefit from those who do. They witnessed the miracle of Peter walking on water and of Jesus calming the storm. See how much difference one person’s faith can make? Yeah, probably a sermon in there, too. I’ll hold on to this note.

Thinking About Jesus

Of course, this is one of the Gospels, so what is most important is what do we learn about Jesus? First, Jesus is in the storm. That doesn’t mean Jesus causes the storm. It just means He’s there. Probably a sermon in there somewhere, too.

Not only is Jesus in the storm, sometimes He calls us into the storm. Yeah, I could do an entire sermon on our uniquely American name-it-and-claim-it prosperity gospel with this as an example of how we don’t need to avoid the “storms of life.” Jesus is there in the storm and He calls us to join Him there. It is where faith is built and miracles happen.

Jesus also gives us a powerful example of the spiritual disciplines of prayer and solitude. He went away alone (as was often His want) to pray. Jesus’s power was rooted in His relationship with His Father. I’m not so sure that this is not the most important point of the encounter. Jesus was sustained by this relationship, and all He accomplished He accomplished because of His connection to His Father. Exegesis (see above) proves this point well. Yeah, there’s a sermon in there.

One final thought I noted was the simple fact that Jesus is our salvation. Whether we are in the storm or in the boat, it is Jesus who saves us. Jesus saved Peter from the doubt and fear he experienced in the storm (while he was walking on water, I might add), and Jesus saved the other disciples when He calmed the storm once He got into the boat. Perhaps this is the most important point of the encounter–Jesus saves!

A Hopeful Mind

See? I told you it was a good sermon. No, the preacher didn’t make all these points in his sermon (it would be insufferably long if he did!). The sermon was good enough to get me to think all those things. So what if I might have gone a different direction? So what if the preacher’s diction wasn’t the greatest? So what if…? So what?

I left challenged to think more deeply about this event and its implications in my life and the life of the Church. I left asking more questions about Jesus and wanting to find the answers. That’s what good sermons do. I can only pray that my sermons are that good, too.

So now, you’ve had a brief glimpse into how the mind of a preacher works…or, at least how this preacher’s mind works. Please don’t judge me. I am, after all, not the perfect pastor.

Until next time, keep looking up…

The Miracle in a Lunchable…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Someone asked me recently what is it about being at the beach that draws me in, and I answered that it was a spiritual experience to sit along the shore, especially at night, and listen to the waves crashing against the shore beholding the vastness of the universe above. Not only is it a spiritual experience, but it is humbling, too.

Actually, life is filled with humbling experiences. I pat myself on the back for being a regular at the Monroe Athletic Center, working out, doing cardio, trying to stay healthy. That’s great, and I feel real good about myself until I turn on the TV and the Bowflex guy comes on the commercial with his six-pack abs (yes, those abs he got in only twenty minutes three times a week on the Bowflex), then I look at mine and I’m humbled (and embarrassed!).

Life can be humbling. That’s the context in which we have to view John’s account of the story of the loaves and fishes. That’s okay because it is in the humility of life that we discover the stuff of miracles.

This story, the feeding of the five thousand, is the only miracle Jesus preformed that is recorded in all four Gospels. John’s version of the story of the feeding of the five thousand (or the loaves and fishes, however you chose to reference the encounter) is distinctive in that John’s is the only account that tells us about the little boy. Can we identify with that little boy? Think with me for a moment what it feels like to be a child in a large crowd. It’s intimidating. It’s scary. It’s challenging. It might even be humbling. Here’s this little boy in the middle of a crowd of Pharisees, Sadducees, big burly fishermen, rich people, poor people—5,000 men, John tells us and that doesn’t include the women. Heck, this little boy is not even significant enough to be counted. He is insignificant…almost as if he doesn’t even exist. Is that a humbling experience?

lunchableHe’s not just a little boy, but he’s poor, too. John tells us the loaves were barley loaves. Barley was the grain of the poor because it was the cheapest grain. And, the fish, well, they were sardines. Two little fish and a few slices of pita bread. This was the little boy’s Lunchable. This is what his mother had packed for him when he left home. He is a poor little boy with the worst sort of bread and a couple of sardines. When we understand this, we begin to see the power of the miracle.

The little boy was probably from a nearby village. He might have been out working in the fields or playing with friends when Jesus came by with this large crowd following him. Jesus comes along and the little boy gets caught up in the crowd. It gets late in the day and the crowd starts to stir. Some man (Andrew) comes along and asks for his lunch, “Jesus needs your lunch!” At first, he’s scared, but fear soon turns to pride—this teacher is asking for my lunch. Then, the pride turns to embarrassment as he says, “All I’ve got is my Lunchable—barley loaves and sardines.” It didn’t matter. Jesus took the barley loaves and fish and feed the crowd—maybe ten thousand people in all—and had plenty to spare.

I wonder why John makes mention of the little boy? I’m not sure why he mentions him, but I know the little boy teaches us that even the most insignificant among us possess the stuff of miracles. It was out of what the little boy had that Jesus found the building blocks of a miracle. Jesus desires to use whatever we bring. How many miracles in the world are denied because we won’t offer what we have to Jesus? We have time. We have skills. We have financial resources. We have expertise. We have so much to offer no matter how insignificant we believe ourselves to be.

Offering her little, a lady named Rosa made a difference. The story takes place in hell—Hell’s Kitchen, that is. Hell’s Kitchen is the most dangerous part of New York City. After her conversion, a Puerto Rican woman named Rosa wanted to serve. She didn’t speak a word of English. Through an interpreter, she pleaded with her pastor, Bill Wilson, “I want to do something for God, please!”

“I don’t know what you can do,” he said.

“Please just let me do something for God,” Rosa persisted.

“Okay,” Pastor Wilson said, “I’ll put you on a bus. Ride a different bus every week and just love the kids!”

That’s exactly what Rosa did. That’s how she offered to God the little she had in her own way, and as she had opportunity. In all, she rode 50 different church busses. She would find the saddest looking kid on the bus, sit down, put him or her on her knee, and whisper the only words she knew in English: “I love you, and Jesus loves you!”

After several months, she became particularly attached to one little boy. Because of him, she decided to ride just that one bus so she could be with him on the way to and from Sunday School. The little boy went every week with his sister, but he never said a word. All the way there, Rosa whispered over and over again, “I love you and Jesus loves you!”

The little boy never responded. One day, the bus stopped to let the little boy off at his stop. Before he got off, to Rosa’s amazement, he hugged her and stammered, “I, I, I love you, too!”

That was 2:30 PM. At 6:30 PM that same day, the little boy’s body was found stuffed into a garbage bag and placed under a fire escape ladder. His mother had beaten him to death. The story is unbearably tragic except in knowing that some of the last words he heard was the stuff of miracles. If he knew nothing else, he knew for sure he was loved by at least two people: Jesus and Rosa! Rosa offered her little bit of English, and what do we know that it made an eternal difference in that little boy’s tragic life.

We’re tempted to believe we can’t make a difference in the world. We’re tempted to believe that in the grand scheme of things, we’re just insignificant. We have nothing to offer. We’re not heroes. We don’t draw crowds. We don’t get press. But, here, too, God uses the insignificant, the overlooked, the little.

Jesus points out in the story, “not enough” is never the final answer. Because, when placed in the hands of Jesus, our human weakness becomes more than enough! Do we believe this? An African proverb says, “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try spending the night in a closed room with a mosquito.”

It is truly miraculous, when we allow God to work through us. We should never get in the way of God’s work, by trying to take things into our own hands and saying, “There is not enough to go around!”

What do you have to bring to Christ today? You may feel like you don’t have anything significant, or that you’re not significant. You may be like the little boy who only had his Lunchable, but Christ will take that Lunchable and transform it into an all-you-can-eat buffet. When I bring my meager fare, and you bring yours, God through the Holy Spirit does the work, and it is truly miraculous!

Until next time, keep looking up…