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Earlier this year, one of my first sensations on driving the new Camry home from the dealer was how pristine the windshield was. No nicks, no dents, no dried bugs. None of the stuff you get with cars that traveled a few thousand miles across city streets and country highways.
Now, four months and quite a few thousand miles later, that windshield is beginning to look like all the others I've stared through and lived with.
There is a way to keep a windshield unflicked (is that a word?). Park it in the garage and leave it there. Never take it outside.
There's a tiny dent with white paint (the car is a bright red) on one door where some thoughtless person in another car opened a door against it.
It happens. I was expecting it, although I admit I was dreading it.
Real life is this way. If you get out in the world, you get nicked up and dented and even scarred. If you get involved with where people are and attempt to move them to where they ought to be, you will occasionally come home at night with bruises and the occasional black eye and bloody nose.
A friend who left the pastorate to become the director of missions (my former ministry) with the Baptist churches in a Gulf Coast county wrote recently to say no sooner had he unpacked his boxes than he had to mediate a situation between a pastor and a church. The pastor was being forced out and the DOM worked with the church leadership to arrange an appropriate severance package.
I observed that sooner or later, if he does this enough, both sides will turn on him. He was unfair, he was partial to the other side, he is unworthy to call himself a Christian, let alone a minister, he is no friend.
The minister should expect it; don't be blind-sided; it happens.
The same day the DOM's note arrived, a pastor in another state emailed asking for prayer. He and his deacon chairman were visiting a wayward deacon who has ended his marriage for another woman in the church, and nothing about this confrontation bodes well.
No one said it was going to be fun.
She was as poor as anyone in our church. A single parent--probably never married and only recently born into God's family--she was bringing up three small children without the assistance of any extended family member that I could see. She was a hard worker and impressed all of us by her sincerity, while touching our hearts by her poverty.
That morning, my wife had brought this young mother and her children to church, and now, after the services, was driving them home.
All of a sudden, in the middle of their conversation, without reference to anything they had been talking about or anything in the sermon that day, she said, "Mrs. Margaret, I know I need to start tithing my income to the Lord. I can't afford it of course. I don't make enough to get by as it is."
She was quiet a moment, then said, "But I've decided. I'm just going to do it regardless."
When my wife told me what she had said, all the bells went off inside me. "That's it!" something said. "That's what the Christian life is all about! Serving the Lord regardless. Regardless of all the reasons you find not to do it, regardless of what others say, regardless of what you don't have and regardless of your own fears and doubts. You go forward and do it anyway."
The more I thought of it, the more I decided we can redefine faith this way: doing the right thing regardless.
THINK OF BARTIMAEUS, the blind beggar of Jericho. (Mark 10 and Luke 18) He hears that Jesus of Nazareth is passing by and he begins to clamor to meet him.
"Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!"
He's hollering now. This beggar, who has sat there as long as anyone can remember, always quiet and humble and submissive, now becomes persistent and insistent and loud.
"Jesus! Over here! Son of David, have mercy on me!"
People try to shush him. "Mister, can you hold it down. We are trying to honor our distinguished Friend today and the last thing we need is a blind beggar creating a ruckus."
But the more they tried to silence him, the louder Bartimaeus called, "Jesus! Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy!"
When the Lord came within earshot, He stopped. "Who is that?" Someone said, "Oh, Lord, we have this blind beggar over here and he's calling for you."
"Bring him to me," the Lord said.
And He healed him. Just like that. Sweet and simple. A complete lack of dramatics. No slapping him on the head, no slaying him in the Spirit. The Lord just said, "All right, be healed." And he was.
There is faith. You can search Scripture and not find a finer demonstration of faith than the one the blind beggar of Jericho gave us that day: against opposition and discouragement, he called on Jesus until the Lord heard him and answered his prayer.
They could have given Bartimaeus a long list of reasons why he should not call on the Lord that day, such as: you're dirty, you're unpresentable, you're unlearned, you are a beggar, you are not worthy, you don't know your Bible, you don't know how to address a person of His eminence, you have no offering to give, nothing in your hand to bring.
All those things were true. But he came to Jesus regardless.
Why don't you come to Jesus that way? No matter what others say, no matter what kind of discouragement you may receive from your family or friends. Regardless of your fears and without giving in to your doubts.
Use your faith. Do the right thing. Come to Jesus.
In another city, I dropped in on a church near the hotel for their Sunday morning worship service. The church belonged to a denomination that is unapologetically liberal, so I was not surprised by anything. But there is one thing about such congregations and their leadership that always amazes me.
I'm continually surprised at how thoroughly they leave Jesus out of things.
We use the same Bible, so it's not like we're reading from different texts.
We're working from the same blueprint, so it's not like we have different architects.
And we all call ourselves Christian.
But how in the world two groups of people who read the same Bible and call themselves disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ can come up with such disparate renditions of the Christian faith is beyond me.
The way I read the Bible, everything there is about Jesus. Not some of it, all of it. Not the major portion, but every blessed thing in there in one way or the other points to Jesus.
We who are fans only of college or professional football have no idea what it must be like to walk out onto the field at game time.
Growing up, most of us played the game at some level. We're used to the green expanse stretching before us and the guys on the other team facing us. But there's one thing we never saw that is a powerful element in the game played by the big boys.
There are a jillion fans sitting all around them.
Think of it. On your field of vision as you exit the locker room is a sliver of green which is the playing field. But filling 90 percent of your eyeballs is a stadium filled with raving, cheering, expectant fans. When the ball is thrown into the air, the backdrop is the fans. When it's kicked, the player has to pick the ball out of a mural of fans.
That's the part of the game I cannot imagine. I have little trouble imagining the running, throwing, hitting, blocking, catching parts of the game. But what a difference it must make for a player to be the object of 75 thousand fans, all screaming for him to make it or break it, to catch it or miss it. He's cheered, he's booed, he's a goat, he's a hero.
This weekend, Rex Ryan, coach of the NFL's New York Jets, gave the game ball (signifying their leading role in a victory) to the fans who helped his team to a rare win over the New England Patriots. Last week sometime, Ryan had sent a voice mail to every season-ticket holder calling on them to "be there and be loud" at the game.
It worked. Patriots quarterback Tom Brady admitted he had trouble being heard when calling signals to his players. At one point, twice in a row the referees threw the penalty flag on Brady's team for getting out of sync.
Pastors know the difference the congregation makes.
For a long time, we were beginning to think the First Baptist Church of Chalmette, just below New Orleans, would never finish with their rebuilding. Hurricane Katrina had ruined their facilities and they were razed. New plans were made and volunteers came in by the thousands to help construct the plant. Finally, this weekend, this church is having an open house and a dedication.
Today, Saturday, I spent several hours at their open house sketching people and listening to the oohs and ahhs from those taking the tours. It's a lovely building and I am beyond excited for Pastor John Jeffries and his people.
I said to one member, "I know you're tired of meeting in Chalmette High School." She hesitated. "They are the sweetest people in the world to us. But we're ready to be here and I know they're ready to see us go."
Almost every Facebook friend I have has been commenting today on various football games this weekend. I'm a fan, but these days have a hard time sitting down to watch a complete game. I thought of a great line from Scripture, however, in the pyschological give-and-take that has been going on between the teams and fans of the Universities of Tennessee and Florida.
First year coach Lane Kiffin of Tennessee had commented that he was looking forward to singing "Rocky Top" (the Volunteers' song) all night long "after we beat the Florida Gators this year." Well sir, that didn't sit too well with Florida Coach Urban Meyer and his people. They are, after all, the defending national champions and presently number one in the nation. According to the Sportscenter people--I'm unsure how reliable they are--that comment really pumped up the Florida fans and inspired its team to rub Tennessee's nose in it.
One ESPN guy said he'd not be surprised if Florida tried to score as many as 100 points on Tennessee, they were so infuriated by Kiffin's comments.
Sooner or later, young coaches have to learn the hard way not to say anything which will inspire his opponents. Kiffin will learn.
In the meantime, I thought of the line from an Israeli king to a bragging Syrian ruler found in I Kings 20:11. "Let not him who puts on his armor boast like him who takes it off." (I love the subtlety of that little comment.)
When all was said and done, Tennessee held their own for the most part, and even though they lost, returned home with their heads held high. They're going to beat some good teams this year, I expect.
Would it surprise you to learn there is political infighting occurring in New Orleans?
A preacher stands to his feet and walks to the pulpit. It's the biggest moment of the week for him. This could be a life-altering experience for a lot of people, if he does it well and does not get in God's way.
All his study and praying and working throughout the week now comes down what he is about to do. Over the next 30 minutes, more or less, he will be prescribing remedies for what he has diagnosed in the church and community the last six days.
Pray he doesn't drop the ball.
There are so many ways he can mess up. He can lie (by delivering someone else' sermon and calling it his), he can almost-lie (by exaggerating and playing loose with the truth), he can offend needlessly (by getting more personal than was necessary), and he can bore the congregation to tears (by boring the congregation to tears!).
All of these are wrong and terrible, but the greatest of these is the last: to bore the people who look to him expecting to hear a word from God.
Search the Bible. Do you find one boring sermon? Wherever Jesus preached, members of His audience wanted to stone him or worship him. When Paul preached, everyone chose up sides; no one was neutral, although some said, "We'd like to hear more on this subject."
How exactly would one go about taking the greatest message in the history of this small planet and making it boring?
It's hard to do, but some have pulled it off.
Once in a while we will come across something from the morning news that has nothing in the world to do with preachers or Christians or the church, but which is as good a mirror as one could ever find for us to find our own reflection.
So this morning.
Mackie Shilstone is described in the (New Orleans) Times-Picayune as a "noted sports trainer (who) has been working with tennis star Serena Williams the past 18 months."
Anyone who has anything to do with professional sports knows his name. He's a New Orleanian, is often on TV and radio, and is evidently the answer to the prayers of a lot of athletes regarding their conditioning.
Over the last week or so, while the U.S.Open tennis championship has been being played out in New York City, Shilstone has been sending a "postcard" to our newspaper. At least, that's what the paper calls it. Today's was the first column of his I've seen.
It's evidently the last one, too, since Serena Williams lost in the semifinals against Kim Clijsters in a profanity-laced tirade that got her fined and provoked an investigation into the possibility of additional penalties.
Okay, enough background. I want you to see a portion of Mackie Shilstone's column in which he is supposed to be talking about the tennis star, the championship, and the competition. Today would have been a great time for him to give us his take on what Serena did. But nope. She's paying him the big bucks.
Here's something of what he said....
"Over my last 27 years of working with more than 3,000 pro athletes, and in every pro sports venue from being in the dugout of the San Francisco Giants in the World Series, the sideline of the Pittsburgh Steelers in Super Bowl IX, to working the corner of championship boxing matches, I must say that being part of Team Serena will go down as a cherished memory."
One wonders how much Shilstone paid the Times-Picayune for that self-promoting ad?
Mostly I wonder, can we preachers read that and see ourselves in its reflection?
Everyone has his own contender for that honor--the "best thing in the Bible"--and here's mine.
"Since then the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same, that through death He might render powerless him who had the power of death, that is, the devil,
"And might deliver those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives." (Hebrews 2:14-15)
Those two loaded verses tell us why the incarnation (the act by which Jesus became human) and why the crucifixion (His death on the cross). It all pointed to the same purpose.
Jesus defeated the one holding the power of death, the devil, and delivered those in bondage to the fear of death. (That would be "us.") He accomplished this by His death.
Eugene Peterson restates that in The Message:
"Since the children are made of flesh and blood, it's logical that the Savior took on flesh and blood in order to rescue them by His death. By embracing death, taking it into Himself, He destroyed the devil's hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death."
Think of that: "scared to death of death."
It describes our generation to a T.
Now, a wonderful little glimpse of something. Fast forward over to the first chapter of Revelation. In John's vision of the ascended/glorified Jesus, there is a detail you may have missed.
We're not in the dark as to how the Lord prefers to train leaders. Take a gander at His favorite leaders in the Scriptures....
In Genesis, Joseph. In Exodus, Moses. Later, Joshua. In I Samuel, David. In the New Testament, it's clearly Paul.
What one thing do all these leaders have in common?
They all suffered a great deal before the Lord decided they were ready to be used by Him. (And often continued to suffer while serving Him.)
Joseph spent the best years of his youth as a slave in Egypt, then was mistreated by his master and thrown in prison where he seemed to have been forgotten for a number of years.
Moses spent 40 years in remote areas keeping sheep before God decided that at the age of 80, this man was ready to face Pharaoh and lead the Israelites.
Joshua served as Moses' servant for more years than he could count and endured the entire 40 years of wilderness wandering before Moses left the scene and gave him the keys to the car.
David was anointed as the new king sometime around his 17th year, we think. Soon, he fought Goliath and became a national champion, then a hero acclaimed by the masses. A jealous King Saul put a price on his head, turning David into an outlaw for a number of years.
Want to be a leader greatly used of God? Get ready to suffer first.
The newspaper column by Andy Rooney, resident curmudgeon of CBS television, does not appear in the New Orleans paper but I found it today in the Baton Rouge Advocate. Rooney thought we'd like to see what he shared Wednesday at the memorial service for Walter Cronkite at the Avery Fisher Hall in the Lincoln Center.
Two stories from that have special meaning for us.
The first illustration...
Rooney says he and his wife were often invited to go sailing with Walter and Betsy Cronkite. "Once while we were sailing in Maine several years ago, we tied up near a little village and Walter and Betsy went into a country store."
"This strange-looking character comes up to Walter and asks him a question. Walter was always polite to his fans and, with Betsy standing there, Walter said, "Oh sure. We've met several times . We're not really close friends. I talk to him once in a while."
Outside, Betsy said, "Walter, did you hear who he asked you about?" And Walter, who was hard of hearing answered,"No, I didn't." She said, "Well, he asked if you knew Jesus Christ."
(What if it turned out that that accidental answer was the real one? Let's hope he knew Jesus well and is in His presence at this very moment.)
And then the second Cronkite story.
"Thus says the Lord, 'Let not a wise man boast of his wisdom, and let not the mighty man boast of his might, let not a rich man boast of his riches;
"But let him who boasts boast of this, that he understands and knows Me, that I am the LORD who exercises lovingkindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for I delight in these things,' declares the Lord." (Jer. 9:23-24)
Remember those words. They will be on the test.
The word "rhapsody," we're told, comes to us from the Greek "rhapsodia." That word is made from "rhapso" meaning "to sew" and "ode," a song. Literally, a rhapsody is a patchwork composition, parts of various songs stitched together into one.
I have my needle and thread this morning. I'm ready to pull together some thoughts on this fascinating declaration from our Heavenly Father for our benefit. In time, with continued reflection and study, my composition will be seamless. But not today, I'm afraid.
Last week, on Facebook--where "friends" try to compress large thoughts and long paragraphs of meaning into two or three pithy sentences--I urged pastors to begin their worship services by walking up to the pulpit and quoting these two verses from Jeremiah 9.
I suggested that the worship leader (the pastor should always be the opening and primary worship leader) should look his people in the eye and with a clear, almost dramatic voice, call out from memory--most definitely not reading--the words of this text. Do it slowly, forcefully, authoritatively.
This is in contrast to the trite manner in which so many worship services begin. "How y'all doing this morning?" "Well, aren't we having a pretty day?" "Is everyone happy today? I said, 'Is EVERYONE happy today?' Maybe you didn't hear me--IS EVERYONE HAPPY TODAY?"
Oh please. Spare us.
You can do better than this, pastor. Instead of beginning the worship service berating us for not answering your silly question forcefully enough, why not direct us toward the Lord. Lift us toward Heaven. See if you can actually help us worship.
After posting the suggestion about Jeremiah 9:23-24 on Facebook, the next day I made a comment regarding Galatians 2:20. That drew a response from Philip Price.
Price is the new director of missions for the Jackson County Baptist Association, headquartered in Pascagoula, having just left the First Baptist Church of Leakesville, MS (where I'll be leading in revival in a few weeks). Philip said, "Interesting you would pick those two scriptures."
The Galatians verse is his favorite and the Jeremiah passage was his text a few days ago when he addressed the state-wide meeting of directors of missions, his new peer group.
Until Philip said that, I was "past" Jeremiah 9:23-24. But that drew me back.
I've since memorized it and am attempting to retain it by lying in bed reflecting on its content and quoting it back from time to time.
Let's take it apart and sew it back together. With me now?
Thinking of my years in the ministry as a football field, let's suppose I'm in the red zone now. The final twenty yards before arriving in the end zone.
A lot of great friends have blocked for me, some have shoved me forward, and I've been thrown for losses a few times. Couple of times I tripped over my own feet. Sometimes, a friend gave me a hand up and each time I stood back up and groggily re-entered the game.
Now, when you're in the red zone is no time to be looking back and counting your accomplishments. You still have a job to do. So, you'll get none of that here.
After all--ask any football player--my assignment is not to take out a notebook after each play and count up the yards I've gained and jot them down. Someone above is watching and recording it, is counting and taking notes.
When the game ends there will be plenty of time for looking back, for interviews, for regrets and back-slapping, for celebrating in the locker room.
There must be as many ways to develop leadership abilities in others as there are stars in the sky, but most programs will come down to a few basics.
One of the most important and absolutely crucial elements in nurturing young leaders is exposure.
Expose the individual to the various tasks and jobs and careers open to him/her. Let the person try them on, work alongside a master craftsman for a few days, see how it feels.
Not everyone is called to every kind of work. Not everyone is called to be a leader of people, for that matter. But all in the Kingdom of God are called to work in the Lord's vineyard and are gifted by the Holy Spirit with a talent/ability/enablement for that kind of work. (See I Corinthians 12, especially verse 7.)
Finding it is the fun part. Matching the person up with the right assignment is one of the pleasurable aspects of leadership.
Exposure: show them what they could be doing.
Who wants to be the leader?
Ask that in any classroom on the planet and two-thirds of the hands will go up. Every child in the class wants to be the leader.
The leader determines the direction. The leader walks out front. The leader becomes the role model for everyone else. The leader issues orders to the rest of the troops. The leader is well-known and highly visible. The leader gets interviewed by the media, shown on television and quoted by the paper. The leader receives the accolades when it's all over. The leader takes home the choice rewards.
It's fun being the leader.
Because he's the most visible, the leader also gets shot at first and most often. The leader gets criticized by outsiders and insiders alike. The leader is the first to be arrested and executed if the movement fails. The leader bears the blame. The leader was at fault. The leader has to keep up appearances even when he is hopelessly discouraged or lost at sea. It all falls on the shoulders of the leader.
You sure you want to be the leader?
At this very moment, a future president of the United States of America is in high school. He/she may know very well that this is their destiny or, more likely, not have a clue. Some future president is a toddler in diapers.
It's possible and even likely that the pastor-after-next who will be coming to lead your church is in middle school right now, without the slightest idea what lies ahead.
You hope someone is training these young people well. You hope they don't have things too easy, that they learn the lessons only hard work can teach. You want them to know the positive values of struggle, of overcoming obstacles, of reaching deep down inside and summoning inner strength.
You want them smart and strong and solid.
The question is: where do we get such leaders? And how do they get that way?
Here's how God did it.
The line defining what is moral, ethical, and biblical--and just as important, what isn't--is almost impossible to discern close up. Only from a distance can that border be seen clearly.
That's why the time to make those moral, ethical, and biblical choices is when you're not involved in a crisis, not when the devil is banging your door down, and before you are beset by excruciating temptation.
If you haven't settled these matters in advance, once the temptation arrives, you are sunk before you start.
The news this week told of a young pastor who was shot to death by the cops in a drug crackdown. From all reports, he was not buying or selling the stuff. So how did he get involved and how in the world did it lead to his death?
Everyone wants to know; every pastor needs to know and to learn from this guy's mistakes.
Cops say they were monitoring the behavior of a few suspicious characters who were indeed dealing dope. They spotted a young man with a woman in his car nearby. Recognizing the woman as a druggie, they approached the car with guns drawn. Now, bear in mind, these are undercover cops and not wearing police uniforms. So, in a panic, the car speeds away and almost hits one of the narcs. The law enforcers interpret that as assault with a deadly weapon, we're told constantly by police departments. It's like handing them a license to kill. So, they did. They shot the young man who turned out to be a pastor. He died in the hospital later.
Preliminary reports, as I recall--I couldn't find the article in my newspaper or on the internet this morning, so I'm going by memory here--indicate that no drugs were found with the man of God or in his system. The woman in his car tested positive.
The pastor's sister was quick to defend him. "He would never ever touch drugs or alcohol. He had to have been there to try to save that woman's soul. I'll believe that to my dying day."
Personally, with no information otherwise, I have no trouble accepting that. What I do have trouble with, however, is this: what in the sam hill was he doing there with a woman in his car in the first place?
Every pastor I know is held by two scriptures at opposite poles--and also torn between them.
On the one hand, "The laborer is worthy of his hire." That word from I Timothy 5:18 is a quotation of several Old Testament references. The New Testament will not let the super-spiritual among us dismiss the idea of compensating the minister with something like, "The Bible teaches that the ministers should get out and hold jobs like everyone else; there's nothing in there about paying the preacher."
Bad wrong. Read your Bible.
But on the other hand, the other reality that Scripture nails down as a line the minister must not cross says, "The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil" (I Timothy 6:10).
On one side, the minister must never put a price on the work he does. He must look to the Lord as the Source for his needs.
On the other side, he should be adequately compensated. The church must do the faithful and responsible thing in providing for these the Lord has called, equipped, and sent into His fields to labor.
He has a hard time saying this. So, I'm saying it for him.
Some thirty years ago, Dr. Bill Prout was a professor of religion on the faculty of Mississippi University for Women in Columbus, MS, where I served the First Baptist Church. I was Bill's pastor, but he himself was a former pastor of Southern Baptist churches. He often supplied pulpits in the area for absent ministers and took interims when churches were between pastors.
I wrote an article for the old Baptist Program (the wonderful Leonard Hill was editor) based on a conversation Dr. Prout and I had. Fifteen years earlier, when he arrived in the community and began to fill the pulpits, he told me the average check to the visiting minister was 50 dollars.
"It's still 50 dollars," he laughed.
A friend who worked at a local bank ran the numbers and informed us that 50 dollars in, say, 1960, would have to be about 125 dollars fifteen years later, in order to have the same buying power. I quoted him in the article and urged churches to be more generous and faithful in taking care of their visiting ministers.
And now, that truth has come full circle for me.
What started this for me was something a friend said Sunday morning.
We bumped into each other at a restaurant after church. He said, "I'll miss your sermon tonight. I'll be in such-and-such a city." Oh? what's going on there?
"Fantasy football. Our statewide meeting."
I said, "You have meetings for these things? If they're fantasy, can't you just fantasize you're there?"
He could tell in a heartbeat that I have no knowledge of how fantasy football works and absolutely zero appreciation for the sport. (Is it a sport if it exists only in the fantasy world?)
He smiled, "I have to be there. I'm the reigning champ."
Might as well have talked to me about conditions on Mars for all I understood.
Readers who are into fantasy sports will understand when I say that most people in my generation--I'm 1940 vintage--think you guys have lost your cotton-picking minds.
Now, real football--well, that's something else!
Or, then again, is it?
I made a preacher mad at me the other day. I apologized and he forgave me, but I don't regret what I did.
Here's what happened.
I received an email from the man of God telling how a group of liberals is petitioning the Federal Communications Commission to end religious programming in the United States. This would stop Charles Stanley, David Jeremiah, and a whole host of religious programmers from broadcasting their messages.
The e-mail was a "forward," of course. My friend had not written it, but merely read it with alarm and forwarded it to dozens of his friends.
I clicked on "reply all," which sent my response to everyone who had received his note.
I said, "My dear brother, where have you been! This is a hoax! It has been around for nearly 40 years. The FCC never was petitioned to stop religious programming and couldn't if it wanted to."
I added, "This meaningless petition has been circling the earth for all these decades, causing gullible, although well-meaning, Christians to tie up God's resources and their time in bombarding the FCC with thousands and thousands of pieces of mail every year."
"Christians of all people should not pass this stuff along when they can't verify it," I said.
That's how I hurt his feelings. So, I apologized.
Then, last week, that same petition arrived again.