Joe McKeever

"I'm Unhappy With Our Pastor"

The most common complaint denominational people and guest preachers hear when they call on local churches is, "I'm unhappy with our pastor."

Invariably, it's some lay leader of the church speaking.

The outside "expert"--and that's how they seem to the church member--is seen as one who knows about the inner workings of churches and might be able to help.

The visitor is immediately thrown into a quandary. Does he ask for more information? Does he run the risk of appearing to meddle in a church's internal affairs? Does he just listen and try to offer good counsel? Or does he brush off the leader with the suggestion that, "You ought to take that up with your preacher."

Let's state the obvious here: some pastors we ought to be unhappy with. I'm thinking of one preacher who was known to curse, tell shady stories, gamble, and drink. When he was forced out of the pulpit--and he had to be ousted--no one shed a tear. Everyone had been unhappy with him, and rightfully so.

But what about all those other situations in which some church members are unhappy with their preacher?

Let's see if we can do some good on this subject.

Deacons: Protecting the Pastor's Blind Side

Sandra Bullock's new movie, "The Blind Side," has been the sleeper of the year. Word of mouth has kept movie-goers filling the theaters, earning a huge box-office for this story about a homeless kid taken in by a Christian family and who went on to become a football star.

The fascinating story carries a terrific message for life in a hundred ways. And for deacons in one specific way.

The movie opens with a slow motion depiction of a play that occurred perhaps twenty years ago in a game between the Washington Redskins and the New York Giants. Redskins quarterback Joe Theismann was hit from his left--the blind side for this right-hand-throwing QB--by Giants linebacker Lawrence Taylor. Theismann never played football again.

According to people in the know, that devastating play changed the way football is played. Thereafter, as soon as the ball is snapped to the QB, the left tackle moves back to protect him on his blind side. If he is a lefty, it's the right tackle who protects him.

Sheltering and guarding the leader at his point of greatest vulnerability.

That is one of the chief roles of a deacon in today's church.

Finally, One More Series on the Parables

After you've taught or preached through the parables of Matthew, consider one more brief series of messages for your people.

Preach the parables of you.

We have all had defining stories happen in our families and our personal lives that would make great teaching parables. They are interesting stories in themselves but they also serve as trucks which we can load down with spiritual truths and deliver to our people.

Most congregations might enjoy this kind of a diversion in your preaching.

Eugene Peterson, in his book on the Psalms, "A Long Obedience in the Same Direction," gives one of his own parables.

He begins, "An incident took place a few years ago that has acquired the force of a parable for me."

Peterson was in a hospital room, recovering from minor surgery on his nose which had been broken years earlier in a basketball game. The pain was great and he was in no mood for fellowship.

The young man in the next bed wanted to chat. Peterson brushed him off--his name was Kelly--but overheard him telling his visitors that evening that "the fellow in the next bed is a prizefighter. He got his nose broken in a championship fight." Kelly proceeded to embellish it beyond that.

Later, after the company had left, Peterson told him what had actually happened and they got acquainted. When Kelly found out he was a pastor, he wanted nothing more to do with him and turned away.

The next morning, Kelly shook Peterson awake. His tonsillectomy was about to take place and he was panicking. "I want you to pray for me!" He did, and they wheeled him to surgery.

After he returned from surgery, Kelly kept ringing for the nurse. "I hurt. I can't stand it. I'm going to die."

"Peterson!" he kept calling, "Pray for me. Can't you see I'm dying? Pray for me."

The staff held him down and quietened him and after a while all was well.

Peterson writes, "When the man was scared, he wanted me to pray for him, and when the man was crazy he wanted me to pray for him, but in between, during the hours of so-called normalcy, he didn't want anything to do with a pastor. What Kelly betrayed 'in extremis' is all many people know of religion: a religion to help them with their fears but that is forgotten when the fears are taken care of...."

Here's a second parable, one I found today and enjoyed.

Blessed By His Mama

Someone pointed out to me once that most preachers were blessed by their mothers, rather than by their fathers.

I've not done a George-Barna and looked into that theory, but my observation is that it's accurate.

Billy Graham and I (ahem!) were blessed by our mothers. When I pastored in Charlotte twenty years ago, people still reminisced about the elder Mrs. Graham who taught Bible studies in the retirement home where she spent her last days and what a Godly influence she was.

In my case, it was my mother whose spiritual example and godly influence turned me in the direction of living for the Lord.

A few remembrances....

Grow in Grace and Knowledge of Jesus

A young friend messaged her pastor and me this morning asking for our counsel. She wants to speed up her spiritual growth, she said, and asks what books she should be reading and what preachers she should be listening to.

The pastor gave her excellent suggestions on books and preachers, so I took a different route. I said, "If you want to move your spiritual growth to warp speed, I suggest reading large blocks of Scripture at one sitting." In doing so, I said, she would see lessons, learn insights, and experience blessings she had missed before by the kind of piecemeal intake most of us practice regarding God's Word.

When the Apostle Peter was concluding his second epistle, he counseled, "But grow in the grace and knowledge of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.To Him be the glory both now and forever. Amen." (II Peter 3:18)

I take it that the grace of Jesus Christ is one thing and the knowledge of Him is another. But I also find them to be complementary, partners or colleagues in the lives of believers, if you will. The more we grow in His grace, the better we know Him.

As the old song says about love and marriage, "you can't have one without the other."

When the disciples first learned of Jesus, they must have been puzzled, then interested, and then attracted to Him. Bit by bit they were learning of Him. The day the Lord Jesus walked by and called them to follow Him, some from their fishing boats, one from his tax books, and others from various pursuits, they began to experience His grace.

"I am so honored; He called me as a disciple!" They were celebrating His grace.

Then, day after day as they walked the hills of Galilee in His steps and saw His works and heard His teaching, they learned more of His heart, His mind, and His agenda. They were appreciating the knowledge of Jesus.

Over the next three year period, the disciples failed Him, disappointed Him, embarrassed themselves, and most eventually forsook Him. Each time, however, He forgave them and loved them and patiently went on with the training.

That was grace.

By the time Jesus ascended into Heaven and left the earthly work with the disciples, they felt they knew Him pretty well. Every day had brought new challenges, each miracle had taught new lessons, every setback presented new opportunities.

That is knowledge of Him.

No wonder Peter's one wish for His people was that they would grow in this dual direction: the grace and knowledge of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

The Final Parable: Occupy Til I Come

The last parable in Matthew's gospel is familiarly known as "the parable of the talents," from 25:14-30.

Someone says, "Wait a minute. What about the story that follows this parable, the judgement of the nations in which the Lord divides mankind into the sheep and the goats?" Answer: it's not a parable. It's the real thing.

A parable is an illustration thrown alongside a reality to make some significant point. But we must always be careful to discern when Jesus is not telling a story but dealing with the actual reality.

The basic points in this story--this parable of the talents--are these:

1. Before leaving for an indefinite period of time, the master of three slaves gives each a certain sum of money to invest.

2. The understanding is that each will give account on his return.

3. The amount each receives is based on that servant's abilities as the master discerns.

4. Two servants put the money to work--we're not told how--and doubled theirs.

5. One servant, the slave judged by the master to be worthy of only the smallest portion, buried his.

6. The master is delayed 'a long time.' (vs. 19)

7. On his return--sudden, no doubt, although this is not a point of the story--the master called the servants for an accounting of their stewardship.

8. Two had done well and thus received great rewards. In both cases, the reward was a greater responsibility.

9. The servant who buried his money was in trouble and knew it. He pleads that it was his fear of the master that prevented him from taking a risk. "Look, here it is--you have what is yours!" (vs. 25)

10. The master had no patience with such laziness. The man was banished.

11. The money entrusted to the lazy servant was awarded the one who had been most faithful. "To him who has, it shall be given."

12. The corollary of that principle is also stated: "To him who has not, even what he has will be taken away." (vs. 29)

That's the story.

How fitting that this should be the last of our Lord's parables in Matthew.

Explaining the Kingdom

The Lord had a problem.

He had to convey to His disciples the inner operations of the Kingdom of God. He had to bring them up to a proper understanding of how God did things in the spiritual realm. And He had only three years to do it.

This must have been the equivalent of teaching quantum physics to a colony of ants. It was so far outside their day-to-day experiences that little of it made sense to the disciples.

They don't call Jesus the Master Teacher for nothing.

He pulled it off.

How He did it should be called the greatest miracle He performed, although it's not one you see included in anyone's list of His feats.

He taught His followers up and down the Galilean hills, in the towns of Judea, and even while the stormy sea was battering them. He gave lessons in short bytes, it appears, and was constantly reiterating the insights. He demonstrated in Himself the principles He taught and was forever surprising the disciples. He did miracles of healing and provision, and turned these events into moments of teaching.

And among His teachings, He gave parables.

"The Kingdom of Heaven is like...." and "the Kingdom of God is like...."

I take the position that when He spoke of the kingdom of Heaven and of God, it was the same thing, that He used these terms interchangeably.

We have tiny examples all around us of the task Jesus was up against.

Missionaries return from their overseas assignment and stand before our churches to tell what things are like where they live. They entertain us with stories of how they learned the languages and mistakes they made. The customs of the citizens seem weird to us, and some are truly bizarre.

That is a tiny illustration of the assignment Jesus had in explaining Heaven's operation to His followers.

A slightly better example is the foreign visitor who tries to tell you and me of his country. He is the native there and the newcomer here, and he knows his own people better than he does us. We listen intently because he speaks as an authority.

The best example, however, is one we cannot provide. The best illustration of what Jesus was up against would be a visitor from another planet, another world, coming to earth and telling us how things are where he is from.

That task would be formidable, the gap between the two immense, and the time period the alien might require to pull it off would involve years or more. He would have to learn our language, know our customs, and understand our people in order to make parallels from his own world

Jesus did it in three years. And lest anyone miss the point, as He died on the cross, He was heard to say, "It is finished." He left no part of His assignment undone.

First, let us establish that Jesus Christ was an authority--no, THE authority--on Heaven. He Himself claimed as much.

Jesus said to Nicodemus, "No one has ascended into Heaven except the One who descended from Heaven--the Son of Man." (John 3:13)

That is, He ought to know what He's talking about. Jesus is a Native. And furthermore, He has no rival, no counterpart on earth who can add to what He's saying. No one has been to Heaven except the One who came from there.

That raises a question: what about Elijah and Enoch and the saints of old? Didn't they go to Heaven? The Bible seems to indicate they did (Genesis 5:24 and II Kings 2:11) and the Lord's people have spoken on them through the ages as though they did.

Apparently, not to the Heaven Jesus spoke of, but perhaps some intermediate "lesser-Heaven," if you will. Not yet the final resting place of the saints of God.

But we must leave that question to God and not waste time--for that's what it would be--speculating on such matters for which God has not given answers.

When it comes to Heaven and the things of God, Jesus is the Authority.

Scars on Your Soul

I suppose it's a vocational hazard.

We preachers walk through the valley of the shadow with people in the church and out of it. We do our best, weep with them, tell what we know, and offer all the encouragement we can. Then, we go on to the next thing. Someone else needs us.

That family we ministered to, however, does not go on to anything. They are forever saddled with the loss of that child or parent. They still carry the hole in their heart and return to the empty house or sad playroom. However, there is one positive thing they will always carry with them.

They never forget how the pastor ministered to them.

He forgets. Not because he meant to, but because after them, he was called to more hospital rooms, more funeral homes, and more counseling situations. He walked away from that family knowing he had a choice: he could leave a piece of himself with them--his heart, his soul, something--or he could close the door on that sad room in his inner sanctum in order to be able to give of himself to the next crisis.

If he leaves a piece of himself with every broken-hearted family he works with, pretty soon there won't be anything left.

So he turns it off when he walks away. He goes on to the next thing.

He hates himself for doing it. But it's a survival technique. It's the only way to last in this kind of tear-your-heart-out-and-stomp-that-sucker ministry.

Case in point.

Bludgeon Thy Neighbor

Pastor John Hewett attended the Carolina Panthers-Minnesota Vikings football game in Charlotte last Sunday evening. Just outside the gates, two stern-faced men stood holding up huge signs.

"JESUS CANNOT BE YOUR SAVIOR UNLESS HE IS YOUR LORD."

Noticing the grimace on John's face, one of the men said to him, "Jesus can save you."

John said, "He already has."

The fellow said, "You sure don't act like it."

Fascinating the way some Christians find one single aspect of the Christian faith and turn it into the end-all of salvation and righteousness and go to seed on it.

Thereafter, it becomes the theme of their sermons and the thrust of their conversations. If they're Facebook friends with you, that's all you ever read from them.

For some, it's the KJV Bible. If you're using anything else, you are a compromised liberal and naive to boot. Either you have been taken in by the con men in the faith or you are a scam artist yourself.

For some it's Calvinism. Unless you cross every 't' and dot every 'i' as they do--or Brother John himself did--you're shallow, don't know your Bible, and a blind leader of the blind.

A Wife's First Christmas Letter without Her Husband

Susan is my wife's youngest sister. Margaret was 11 when she was born and almost feels like her mother. Even though Susan lives in Seattle and we're in New Orleans, those two are joined at the hip.

Twenty-five years ago, Susan married Jim Schroeder, a native Washingtonian. Jim worked in the post office and after hours refereed high school basketball games. This large man--he was 6'2" at least--loved flowers and grew prize-winning dahlias and roses all over his back yard.

For the past few years, Jim battled both ALS and MS. On the first Sunday of October, pneumonia ended his earthly life. We were so sad at losing him, but relieved his suffering had finally ended.

Last February--Mardi Gras weekend--our New Orleans family, all 7 of us, flew to Seattle to be with Jim and Susan while he was still well enough to enjoy the visit. Our grandkids were his delight as he was theirs. Even though he was not able to speak, he went everywhere they did and communicated through Susan who, like all wives everywhere, knew everything he was thinking.

Today, Susan's Christmas letter arrived. It is so sweet and poignant, I thought some of our readers would enjoy it, though you did not know Jim Schroeder. It's a fine and funny tribute of a wife to a husband.

Susan begins, "Oh, how I miss Jim this Christmas, every moment really. During the Christmas seasons of 2006 and 2007, he was so tired from overwork, some nights too tired to eat dinner--and we all know how much Jim liked dinner! He'll never be tired again, God bless him."

Don't Look Too Closely

It's a hard lesson to learn in life, but fans of athletes and singers, actors and other television celebrities, would do well to adjust their expectations downward concerning the personal, private lives of those individuals.

The lives of very few superstars in any category will bear close inspection.

Life keeps trying to teach us this lesson, but so many in our society refuse to learn the lesson. So we are devastated when we learn the inner secrets and hidden activities of a Tiger Woods, a Michael Jackson, or an Edward Kennedy.

The reason we go on getting disappointed in such revelations is that we keep expecting other people to be better than they are.

And perhaps better than we are.

I was 18 years old when this lesson hit me up side the head. As a college freshman in Georgia and more than a little homesick, I was glad when I saw that a certain Southern gospel quartet was coming to nearby Rome for a concert. I had grown up singing their songs and had attended two or three of their programs, so this was like a little touch of home. I knew the personnel of the group and could sing most of their material along with them.

That's why I decided to do what I did.

Christmas Disappointments

I was 7 years old the first Christmas present I ever received. That morning, as I opened the package, I already knew: it was broken.

Here's what happened.

That year, our family had moved from the farming and mining regions of north Alabama into the mountainous coal fields of West Virginia. My dad accompanied a number of our uncles and their friends looking for work, and they all landed jobs in a coal camp just outside Beckley. With a steady paycheck, this year for the first time in my brief life, the six children in our family would receive Christmas presents.

One Saturday early in December, Mom and Dad made the difficult trip into town and returned laden with boxes and bags. They hid everything in a closet and warned us away. "Not until Christmas."

A few days later, when our parents were out of the house, my older brothers found the stash. "This must be for you," they said, handing me a box containing a lovely golden tractor. This would be my first brand-new toy ever. It was a magical moment. I examined it lovingly. With a windup key, the track could be made to pull the tractor. I twisted it, and it worked--a few times.

Then it broke. No doubt it was simply shoddy workmanship. But to a 7-year-old, this was major stuff.

I had the sad and difficult task of returning the tractor to the box to be re-hidden in the closet, then awaiting Christmas morning knowing that my present would be a disappointment.

When the morning came, I faked excitement. We never let on to our parents that we had broken into the gifts early or that my tractor would not work.

No doubt I was not the first to be disappointed on Christmas morning.

Now You Know How a Pastor Feels

If you've had the television on at all in the last 24 hours, you've heard of the senseless death of Cincinnati Bengal's football player Chris Henry. Apparently, he and his fiancee, the mother of his three children, were having a Tiger-and-Elin-Woods type spat and he was angry. As she drove away in her pickup truck a few miles north of Charlotte, North Carolina, he jumped in the back.

A motorist called 911 saying, "A black man is in the back of a pickup, beating on the window. It looks like he's trying to get in. He's wearing a cast on one arm."

The next call to the emergency system from a second motorist reported the man lying in the highway, motionless. "It looks like he's dead." He was.

The victim of his temper, his uncontrolled rage? It would appear so.

One after another, representatives of the NFL, of the Bengals, and of Chris Henry's friends, have uttered to the media and the sporting community the same three things: It's sad, we're sorry, and he was turning his life around.

Henry is a native of our area. Belle Chasse, just downriver from New Orleans, the location of the Belle Chasse Naval Air Station, is where he grew up and played high school ball. People there remember how "he came from nothing" and quickly found what sports stardom can do for a person. It brings great opportunities and incredible temptations.

We've not been told what trouble he got into during his high school or college (at West Virginia) years, but the NFL suspended him several times. He was arrested 5 times in the last 3 years for marijuana possession, driving under the influence, and such. He was only 26 years old.

"He was turning his life around."

Okay.

The fact that he died the way he did would seem to indicate otherwise, in my opinion, that he still had uncontrolled anger problems.

But no one wants to say a bad word about the deceased. And that's just fine. There's no need; what would be the point?

Now you know how pastors feel at funerals.

Parables of Matthew Cartoons (Black & White)

What a Blind Spot Looks Like

Luther Little was a pastor any modern preacher could admire and look up to. I became pastor of the church he served early in the 20th century, some 40 years after he was off the scene. The more I learned about him, the more I admired him.

In the 1920's, he became the first pastor in America, we're told, to broadcast his church services over radio. For a time, millions of people up and down the East Coast considered him their radio pastor.

One of the most fascinating aspects to this preacher, the one that stood out and made me realize there was far more to the man than first appeared, is that he was a novelist. I have no idea how many books he wrote, but somewhere along the way--in a used bookstore, I think--I ran across "Manse Dwellers," his novel about a pastor and his family. Clearly, he was following the number one dictum for novelists: write about what you know.

This is not a review of that book.

Rather, it's a little story about the realization that the pastor-author was strictly a man of his day with a glaring problem he did not even know about.

Luther Little had a blind spot.

The Parable of the 10 Bridesmaids

Dr. Helen Falls taught missions at our New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary for a generation. She was a delight in every way. Once she walked into an early morning faculty meeting and was greeted by Professor Tom Delaughter. Making idle conversation, he said, "Helen, got any oil in your lamp?" She quipped, "Certainly. I'm no foolish virgin!"

Those straight-laced professors are still chuckling about that.

We all know this as "The Parable of the Ten Virgins," but could we update our terminology just a tad. "Virgin" in our society brings up images of an upstart airline, a store that sells CDs and DVDs, and spinsters, those unmarried ladies sometimes referred to as "unplucked blossoms." None of this conveys what the term meant when the Lord told the story.

These are simply young Hebrew women who are waiting for the groom's party to arrive so the bridal festivities can get underway. Think of them as bridesmaids. The groom will be bringing his buddies with him--unmarried young men, get it?--and everyone knows that weddings are great places for single young adults to meet other single young adults. A long time before eHarmony came along, this was how they matched up.

They're waiting for the bridegroom and all those he is bringing with him.

Sound familiar, Christian?

What I Wish For The Church

A friend handed me a book. "We're studying this at our church," he said. I was struck by the incongruity of that, because the title was, "I Love My Church, But--"

He said, "We all have this love/hate relationship with the Lord's church, don't we? We love it for a thousand reasons, but hate what it tends to become when we're not careful or the wrong people sit in the driver's seat."

That started me thinking. I do love the church when it's loving and strong and good, and I hate it when it's bickering and splintered and selfish.

I love the church when it's like Jesus and hate it when it's too much like me.

I love the church when it's into giving and hate it when it's all about getting.

I love the church when it's serving the community and hate it when it's complaining about its neighbors and throwing its weight around.

I have devoted all my adult life--literally, I was 22 when I began pastoring and will be 70 my next birthday--to serving the Lord's church. In fact, you could say Jesus and I have in common that we both love the church, for we read that "Christ loved the church and gave Himself for her." (Ephesians 5:25)

I have not "given myself up for her" in the sense the Lord did, of course. I do carry a few scars on my soul from my years of fighting for the church, but they are nothing compared to His sacrifice of love.

I sat down one day and made a list of my wishes for the church. You might be interested in reading it, and perhaps in adding your own items to it. In doing so, let us both remember that the church is the Lord's however, and what we want more than anything is for His will to be done and not ours.

One: I wish the church were less of a business and more of a family.

The Parable of the Wedding Banquet: Or "Why They're Not Flocking to Your Church"

Here's a question worthy of serious reflection some wintry morning when you've thrown a log on the fire and want to do something better than watch a rerun of the worst sitcoms of the 70s:

Ask yourself, "If the Gospel of Jesus Christ is such good news, why aren't people breaking the door down to get in?"

Images of Target or Macy's on Black Friday come to mind, with crowds pressing against the door, eager for the management to open up so they can take advantage of the great buys inside.

One would think we would be just that intent on getting in on the blessings of Heaven Christ came to give us.

Instead, for the most part, people stay away in droves.

Why is that?

The angel told the shepherds in Bethlehem's fields, "I bring you good news of great joy which shall be to all people." (Luke 2)

Christians maintain that this was the best good-news ever delivered, that it was heaven's greatest gift and humanity's best night.

It's for everyone, it's free, and what it does is transform lives for now and forever. It signs you up for a Heavenly inheritance that cannot be taken away (see I Peter 1:4) and assures you of a future beyond your fondest imagination (I Corinthians 2:9, among other places).

So, why aren't they packing the pews of your church next Sunday and storming the altars at the invitation time.

We happen to know the answer to that question. Well, much of it. There may be aspects we haven't found, but there is not a great deal of mystery to this.

One: we who are the "keepers of the flame," so to speak, the ones entrusted with the message and sent as examples of the divine reality, have so watered it down and messed it up as to make it meaningless.

An article in the December 12, 2009, Times-Picayune, our New Orleans paper, tells of virtual churches existing on-line that offer everything normal churches do without the "member" ever having to walk outside the house. At communion time, the individual can go in the kitchen and find some bread or wine--or even water, the article says--and participate. He can even baptize himself.

Give me a break.

"Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together." (Hebrews 10:25) Any believer with even a few scriptures under his belt can shoot this down in a minute.

Easy believism is rampant. "Pray this prayer and you go to heaven." It's all around us. Nothing is said about becoming a disciple of Jesus and living for Him. It's just "say these magic words."

A child asked a Sunday School teacher, "Do you think Hitler went to Heaven or hell?" The woman said, "Well, darling, we can only hope that when he was a little boy he prayed to receive Jesus as his Savior."

Please!

No wonder people stay away in droves. I would too. Who wants such a gospel? In fact, why would that even be considered a gospel, offering nothing but pie-in-the-sky by-and-by and no transformation or reconciliation in this life?

That's the first reason you'll not find crowds waiting for the custodian to unlock your door this Sunday. The issue has been so confused people today don't even know what the gospel is.

Here are our other reasons. (You can find most of these in Matthew 22:1-14.

The Parable of the Non-Unionized Laborers

The title is facetious.

I'm the son (and son-in-law, too, for that matter) of a union man through and through. My dad worked all his adult life as a coal miner and was a confirmed believer in the value of labor unions to protect the rights of "the working man." After his forced retirement due to disability, he remained active in leading the local union in his hometown of Nauvoo, Alabama, until its declining membership ended its viability.

As a young pastor completely indoctrinated by my father's philosophy, I can recall reading this parable and almost being offended by it.

In the story Jesus tells, a landowner hires workers for his field throughout the day, even as late as 5 o'clock, and at quitting time pays them all the same wages. His explanation was simply that, "These are the wages you agreed to work for; I have done you no wrong."

A far better title for this story would be "The Parable of the Generous Landowner."

There is a large and not-to-be-missed point to this story Jesus told and one that slips past us if we're not careful.

Detoxing the Pastor

Over breakfast in a Cracker Barrel a few miles west of Nashville, Frank and I talked about his new job. After a quarter century of pastoring Southern Baptist churches, he has become a chaplain in industry. Recently, he went full-time.

"Basically, we walk the plant and talk to the workers, four or five minutes each. We're not promoting a church or a denomination, but trying to get to know them."

"Our object," he said, "is to gain their confidence by showing them we aren't selling anything or promoting anyone but Jesus."

He works with everyone, he says, from Muslims to Jehovah's Witnesses to Baptists to atheists.

"When we first start inside a plant or company, the workers are suspicious. They think we are a part of management."

"Gradually, they learn we're not. In fact, we cannot tell the boss anything they tell us without their permission."

"Confidentiality is the rule," Frank said.

You get your chaplains from the pastorate? I asked.

"We do. But first we have to train them, to detox them."

That's when I grabbed my notebook--usually along for the ride just so I can sketch someone or jot down a quick cartoon idea--and started writing.

"Tell me what you mean by detoxing the pastor," I said.

The Christmas Fraud

I stood in the "Book Nook" in Monroe, Michigan, the other day, perusing their huge assortment of Christmas books for children. I'm mainly interested in the artwork, and have been known to purchase a children's book just for that reason.

Other than the Nativity of our Lord, the two most common themes of these books were Dickens' "Christmas Carol" and "The Night Before Christmas" by Clement Clarke Moore.

You probably have a copy of that poem in your home somewhere. It's as ubiquitous in this season of the year as decorated trees and jingling bells. But there is something vastly wrong with it.

That poem--"The Night Before Christmas" (also known as "A Visit From Saint Nicholas")--is a fraud.

No matter how many book covers say otherwise, Clement Clarke Moore did not write it.

A Love Note to New Orleans and its Saints

We were in seminary and living in this city in 1967 when New Orleans was granted a franchise in the National Football League. A year or two earlier, I had worked at Tulane Stadium when the Chicago Bears and Detroit Lions (I'm pretty sure) played an exhibition game here to whet our appetites. I sold ice cream for Brown's Velvet Dairy that night and still recall the enthusiasm of the crowd.

When we were awarded a team, the city went bonkers. A contest was held to come up with a name. Someone suggested SAINTS and had each letter stand for something, like Strength, Authenticity, Integrity--stuff like that. They played off the local anthem "When the Saints Go Marching In" which was (and is) played at most things around here.

In November of '67, my family moved off to Greenville, Mississippi, to pastor Emmanuel Baptist Church. In those days of only three TV channels--and maybe one NFL game a week broadcast--we had one way of hearing the play-by-play, and that was to try to pick up WWL. Many a time, after Sunday dinner, I'd go outside and sit in the car and try to hear the game through the static.

Somehow I heard that middle linebacker Dave Simmons was a Christian and we flew him up to spend the weekend with our church, our youth, and--yep--our pastor. Dave and Sandy and I later were members of FBC Jackson MS together and came to a good relationship. He began King's Arrow Ranch in South Mississippi for a ministry. Dave is in Heaven, but the ranch goes forward.

All of this is to say I'm a charter member of the Who Dat Nation. And now...after over 40 years of disappointments, hopes fueled and hopes dashed, after some of the sorriest coaches on the planet, after teams that were so bad fans wore bags over their heads and called themselves the Aints--after all that, now this.

Oh, Lordy, it's sweet.