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My friend Bob says, "There are three kinds of people in the world: those who can count and those who can't."
I suppose there must be a million variations of that joke. However, this is not meant as a joke but a serious commentary on modern church life: There are three kinds of people in every worship service: the browsers, the customers, and the shareholders. Nothing tells the story on us like identifying our group.
Briefly, the browsers say, "Nothing for me, thanks. We're just looking."
The customers say, "We come to this church because we like the music/youth/Bible/whatever program."
And the shareholders say, "This is my church. It depends on my faithfulness."
Let's explore these a little deeper and see if we can figure out a way to move people through the labyrinth into the last category.
It sounds so good to call ourselves perfectionists. We have higher standards than most people. We go for excellence. We don't tolerate mistakes. Nothing mediocre about us. Nosirree. Only the best is good enough for us and our Lord.
It sounds good but it may be as self-destructive as anything you can do to yourself.
You are not capable of perfection. Maybe in typing a letter or baking a blueberry pie, you are. But not in a single one of the really big issues of life.
Men, you cannot be a perfect son, brother, husband, or father.
Women, you will never be a perfect daughter, sister, wife, or mother.
The pastor cannot be a perfect shepherd of God's flock. The church member will never fulfill his/her duties perfectly.
There is a major factor of human existence which you and I must take into consideration in every aspect of life: there is a flaw in us. You are a sinner; I am a sinner. We were, we are, and we will continue to be so long as we are alive on earth.
As if that's not bad enough, we live in a fallen world. Among other things, that means that everyone else is in the same situation as us. "There is no righteous, no not one" (Romans 3:10, quoting from Psalm 14 and 53).
When Isaiah was given a clear glimpse of himself, he saw two things that rocked him to his core: he was a man of "unclean lips," meaning an unworthy heart; and what must have been infinitely more depressing to him, everyone around him was in the same boat (Isaiah 6:5).
We are all failures in life. Starting with the first couple who arrived on this planet fresh from the Father's hands, no one has earned all A's in righteousness on the divine report card. As God said to the Babylonian king, "You have been weighed in the balances and found wanting" (Daniel 5:27).
That's true of all of us. We have all "sinned and come short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23).
So, where did this inner yearning to be perfect come from? And, isn't it a noble thing to strive for the best we can give, to hit a standard of excellence?
This kind cannot come out by anything but prayer.(Mark 9:29 NASB)
Anything but prayer.
In my Bible where this verse has been highlighted, I've underscored those three words and written in the margin, "Yep. That's us. Anything but prayer."
To be sure, I've taken those three words right out of their context. That is, I'm using them in ways not intended in the text. But the point is a valid one: We are prone to try everything in the world before we turn to prayer.
Somewhere I read where a fellow was talking with his elderly grandmother about a family problem that was eating at her. "Well, in the final analysis, Grandma," he said, "All we can do is pray about it."
"Oh my," she said. "Has it come to that?"
Yes, and sooner or later it always comes to that.
Let's talk about that.
Somewhere in this vast assemblage of articles I've written over these years of blogging is one with this same title. The difference is that the earlier one was written before I knew what I was talking about. Only at the age of 70 and above is one legally entitled to speak of "growing old."
I'm now entitled.
In his book by this title, Garson Kanin, a well-known playwright, told how Pablo Picasso walked into a hall where a massive display of his paintings was being exhibited. The artist strode into the gathering with a beautiful young woman on each arm and a smile on his countenance.
Someone approached him and after the greeting, said, "Sire, I have a question. There is something about your painting that puzzles me."
The man pointed out that in Picasso's first paintings, done when he was a young man, the scenes are dark and formal and according to all the standards. But, he said, "The paintings of your latter years are alive and colorful and so youthful! How do you explain that?"
Picasso said, "Oh, it takes a long time to become young."
And that, as I say, was the title of Kanin's book (which incidentally, I heartily recommend. It's been around for some years so can be bought online for a pittance at any used book source. My favorite is www.alibris.com.)
What started me thinking of this today was that an online friend said, "You seem to be 30 or 40 years old," and not the proverbial three-score-and-ten.
Now, I know flattery when I hear it and eat it up with gusto! But still. I look back at my life and realize that in many respects I have become younger than when I was in my 20s and 30s.
How does that happen?
The 92nd Psalm has the answer.
I would to God that whether in a short or long time, not only you, but also all who hear me this day, might become such as I am, except for these chains. (Acts 26:29)
Lately, I've caught myself saying something similar.
"How are you feeling?" people ask me. I suppose they expect that at my seriously advanced age--I turned 70 last March, something that snuck up on me and took me totally by surprise; I had expected to be 30 again!--that I'm down in my back with the lumbago or something appropriate to the elderly. Rheumatiz?
What is lumbago? Anyway, I'm glad to say I don't have it.
In fact, as well as I can figure, I don't have anything. I feel great.
I'm certain it's meant as a blessing and not as bragging, but periodically I hear myself saying, "I wish everyone in the world felt as good as I do."
That's true. I cannot remember the last ache or pain I had.
My wife lives with constant pain. Her arthritis and fibromyalgia keep her in constant pain. My 94-year-old mother says she hardly has a pain-free day. All around me friends of every age struggle with various ailments.
I wish they all felt good. I sincerely wish they were as painfree as I am and have been for year.
But Paul had something more in mind that just the absence of aches and pains when he told King Agrippa in his Caesarean court that except for the chains, he wished all people to be such as he was.
Even though I have logged several decades of ministering to the Lord's people through His church, there's still so much I have yet to figure out. One of them is the proper, biblical and healthy relationship of pastors and deacons.
What exactly does the Lord have in mind here?
Since gracious (or too-trusting) leaders keep inviting me to address their assemblies of pastors-and-deacons, it seems obvious that the Lord is giving me ample opportunity and motivation to figure it out.
Here's where I am at the moment.
The image of cowhands moving the herd from the ranch to the railhead is my metaphor du jour for the key roles in church leadership.
Often the trail-drive was an ordeal of several days or even weeks duration. In the process of herding the animals, the ranchhands illustrate the key roles of leadership of the Lord's people.
Someone has to ride POINT. In the church as it's set up in my part of the Kingdom, that person is the pastor. The one riding point sets the direction for all who come behind him. Jesus said, "When the shepherd puts forth his sheep, he goes before them" (John 10:4). It's impossible to direct the herd from a safe spot in the rear.
Someone has to ride FLANK. The other members of the ministerial staff and key lay leadership assist the point-rider, the pastor. Flank-riders keep the herd together, see that they do not stray too far to the right or left, and rescue any in trouble.
And, someone has to ride DRAG. This may be the toughest job of all.
Riding drag becomes the chief role of the deacons. The drag-rider makes sure there are no stragglers, that no one is left behind. He rescues the animals in trouble and prods those that want to drop out. Since this worker eats the dust of the herd, the job usually goes to the youngest or newest member of the team or the poor guy who is in trouble with the ranch foreman. Sorry, deacons. You get the hardest assignment.
It will interest you to know that these positions are found in Scripture, in one way or the other.
(This was written for Baptist Press recently.)
New Orleans artist Sherry Francalancia has been making the rounds asking local artists for their handprints on a work she is producing. The painting symbolizes this city, Sherry says. So many people have left permanent imprints on our lives for the better.
Think of that painting as a metaphor for New Orleans in its post-Katrina existence. Over the five years since that hurricane made landfall causing the poorly constructed levees to flood the city, untold thousands of God's people have come from the ends of the earth to bless New Orleans.
A recent ad for a law firm seeking clients in a class action suit against BP began: "When Hurricane Katrina devastated our part of the world, Louisiana stood alone."
Nothing could be further from the truth. We were inundated with friends from every direction.
One of a thousand reasons the Psalms are so well-loved is that once in a while, we will be reading along and come to a place where that psalm nails a truth so dead-on, we sit there gasping for breath. Case in point, Psalm 50.
You hate instruction and cast my words behind you. When you saw a thief, you consented with him, and have been a partaker with adulterers. You give your mouth to evil, and your tongue frames deceit. You sit and speak against your brother; you slander your own mother's son.
And then, the clincher:
These things you have done, and I kept silent; you thought that I was just like you.(Ps. 50:17-21)
Thinking that the Eternal God is like us is an ancient tradition with a noble heritage. Every culture has done it, every generation has adapted the art to its own idiosyncracies, every worshiper struggles with the temptation to pull it off.
It's been said, "In the beginning, God made man in His image. Ever since, man has been returning the favor."
A couple of decades ago country music legend Johnny Cash paid to have a Hollywood movie made on the life of Christ. In the film, Jesus was depicted as a blue-eyed blonde. I've been to the Middle East and the only blue-eyed blondes I spotted were in our tour group. Everyone else, all the natives, seemed to be of a sun-dried dark color with jet black hair.
As prevalent as that is--the way we picture Jesus as looking like someone who would easily blend in with our group--a far worse thing it is to think of God as carrying our own prejudices, hemmed in by our narrow-mindednesses, burdened by our brand of negativities, and limited by our own personal convictions.
The Bible's favorite word to describe God is needed here. He is holy.
The word "holy," scholars tell us, means "other than." God is something else, in the vernacular. He is above us and outside our limitations, far more than we can ever imagine. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.(Isaiah 55:9)
We have been made in the image of God. But we are not like God. Not much. To our everlasting shame.
Let's talk about this.
...therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God... (Hebrews 11:16)
God is proud of you.
That has to be as good as it gets.
That 11th chapter of Hebrews presents a fascinating list of Old Testament believers who did things by faith and ended up pleasing God in the process. It's an eclectic group and sometimes we find names that stun us. Why in the world is Samson listed there? and Jephthah?
It's God's list, not mine. He has His reasons.
What blows me away, though, is the accolade it accords to those who lived and died in faith, without a Bible or the indwelling Holy Spirit or an affirming Christian community, and paid a huge cost for their faithfulness. It's this group, summarized in Hebrews 11:13-16, that receives this incredible honor: "God is not ashamed to be called their God."
While inspecting my own life to see what there is which might make God proud, I think of biblical characters who got it right and received the highest praise. Here is my list; you'll think of others to add.
In the summer of 1964, I arrived on campus at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary to work on a degree that would train me to pastor a church. Among the unexpected delights of that multifaceted experience (which would last three years, with another 2 years in the early 70s) was the chapel services. The seminary brought in various outstanding (and a few average) speakers to address the faculty and student body.
That's where I first heard H. L. Hunt of the oil fortune. Pastor R. G. Lee. Evangelist Eddie Lieberman. Missionary statesman Baker James Cauthen.
And Mitsuo Fuchida.
For these forty-plus years, that name has held an honored place in my mind, even though I remember absolutely nothing he said that day. It was who he was that carved out a special spot inside this young preacher's heart.
Mitsuo Fuchida was a bomber pilot for Japan in the Second World War. In fact, he led the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Once the planes were off the aircraft carriers and in the air headed for their destination, Fuchida was in charge.
He became a great hero to his people and was active in practically every phase of that conflict.
Not long ago, while reading about Fuchida online (thank you, Wikipedia), I discovered several books tell his story and are available. I ordered "God's Samurai" by Gordon Prange (published in 1990, so it can be bought used for a pittance) for one reason: I wanted to see what God did to capture such a prize convert for His glory.
Brother, did I find out. The story of how this warrior and Shinto-worshiper came to Jesus Christ is one for the ages. It may be one of the best testimonies of God at work in a man's life I have ever read.
I've got fear on the brain these days and not sure why. Maybe it's because I see so much timidity among Christians today. We tiptoe around, whispering our convictions, hoping not to offend, and in so doing end up betraying the Lord who told us not to fear but to literally shout from the housetops His message.
John Ortberg says the single most repeated command in Scripture is "Fear not." And he wonders why.
Fear does not seem like the most serious vice in the world. It never made the list of the Seven Deadly Sins. No one ever receives church discipline for being afraid. So why does God tell human beings to stop being afraid more often than he tells them anything else?
He answers his own question: I think God says 'fear not' so often because fear is the number one reason humans are tempted to avoid doing what God asks them to do.
Lloyd Ogilvie has said there are 366 "fear not" verses in the Bible, which figures out to one a day and one for Leap Year!
Anxiety, we're told, is "fear looking for a cause." And fear, therefore, is our response when in the presence of a danger.
There are two kinds of fear: real and imagined. Real fear preserves life; imagined fear destroys it.
See if this scenario sounds like a church you know:
The deacons of our church are really on the pastor's back. The church is running behind in finances and they're blaming it on him for lack of leadership. The monthly business meeting turns into a cat-and-dogfight. The treasurer puts a negative spin on everything, the critics of the pastor are unleashed to harass him, and the poor preacher stands there and takes it. What's wrong with our church?
Having pastored Southern Baptist churches since November of 1962, I need to say something here which I wish every church leader in the SBC (and elsewhere) would heed: It's okay to be running behind financially sometimes. It's not the end of the world. In fact, it could even be the best thing that ever happened to you if you handle it well.
Let's talk about how to turn this sorry state of affairs into a blessing for the Lord's people.
A pastor friend sent me a note just now reporting on his church. He has baptized several this year and had twice that number to join in other ways. I replied that God is using him to turn around that old church and, "Good for you, friend!"
He came back: "The curmudgeons are still there, though, still lurking."
I answered, "They always will be. But let me tell you what I've finally learned about that. These detractors are doing you a favor. They motivate you to greater faithfulness, to do your best work, to keep the focus on the Lord."
He said, "I call them 'Holy Sandpaper.'"
The Lord uses them to get the rough edges off His servant.
Interesting how the notes I get from pastors--some are questions regarding ministry--turn out to be the very thing the Lord was talking with me about earlier.
Case in point. Yesterday, I was going through some old correspondence files, trying to decide what could be discarded. I ran across the most critical (as in the sense of life-changing) exchange of letters I ever had with a church member in nearly a half-century of ministry.
Here's the story and our letters....
Somewhere out in cyberspace there are people on the prowl for tithers.
Mention tithing on the internet and it gets red-flagged on their computer. Instantly, they go on the alert and rush to tell you how misguided you are, that tithing is strictly Old Testament, and that believers are not under the Law. Furthermore, you who teach tithing are corrupting God's people, misleading them about the Scriptures, and probably an idiot to boot.
The funny thing to me is that these vigilantes are half-right and could do a lot of good if they would do so in the spirit of Christ.
It is most definitely true that tithing is not explicitly taught in the New Testament. Nowhere is it written between Matthew and Revelation that "thou shalt bring a tithe." Those (of us) who get tithing out of the New Testament more or less infer it from several things. (I'm going to list some of them, and then turn around and undo everything I'm saying here. Stay tuned.)
--Tithing was not of the law since it began a long time before the Law was given to Moses. (Genesis 14:20)
--In rebuking the Pharisees for getting tithing all wrong and putting the emphasis backwards, Jesus said, "These things you should have done and not to have omitted the other." (Matthew 23:23)
--We infer that Jesus was a tither, otherwise His critics would have quickly pointed it out when they were searching for anything to charge against Him.
That sort of thing.
And then we come to II Corinthians chapter 9:6-7, a jam-packed and fascinating teaching on giving.
But this I say: He who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. So let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loves a cheerful giver.
The Apostle Paul sure blew it, didn't he? This would have been the ideal place to insert a great line about tithing. Instead, he says, "Give as you purpose in your heart." In other words, "Make up your own mind a to what you will give."
Uh oh. He's moving stewardship into a new realm for all us sheriff-wannabes. (A sheriff is an enforcer of the law.)
A friend and I have been trying to work our way through the 73rd Psalm. Doing it on-line slows down the process, but it also achieves something else which I've discovered as an unexpected blessing. Taking one's time results in your seeing things in the Word you would have ordinarily missed.
That psalm--there's nothing else like it in the Bible--gives the account of the writer (listed as Asaph) who had been envying the wealthy wicked for their long lives, contented circumstances, and trouble-free existence. "What's the point in my doing good and suffering for it?" he wondered.
Then, just about the time he was thinking about sharing his discontent with others, he went to church, had a life-changing worship experience, and saw things in a vastly different light. Basically, what God showed him was the "end" of those people. That is, he saw what becomes of them after this life, and it was not a thing to be admired.
The psalm ends with a song of praise to God, made up of outstanding lessons learned through this experience.
What struck me today, though, was verse 15:
If I had said, 'I will speak thus,' behold, I should have betrayed the generation of thy children.
Looking back and writing about his time of doubt and misery, the psalmist sees this as a near-miss. He thinks, "Whew! I almost blew it. Had I told people what was going on in my mind--how I was doubting God and envying evil-doers--I could have really upset a lot of people and done a great deal of damage."
That's what he thought. And maybe he's right.
But I'm thinking, maybe not. Had he gone before other believers and told them what he was thinking, how his faith was wavering, I'm betting that instead of upsetting them, the response would have been more like:
"(yawn) Man, you just now working on this? Where have you been? Pull up a chair, son."
The simple fact is that every thoughtful believer at one time or other goes through such a crisis of faith. It's part of the journey toward maturity.
However, the person in the midst of the crisis seems not to know it. Instead, he/she is afflicted by a syndrome that seems to accompany doubt: egotism.
When we doubt and question God, we seem to always do it alone. The reason is that something inside us insists that we are the first to think such thoughts. We have found the fatal flaw to the Christian faith. We are smarter than the other yokels around us who never dare look up and question what we've been taught.
Faith is humble. But doubt is egotistical.
Let's look at this a little more closely.
In the August 5, 2010, edition of the Baptist Message (our Louisiana state weekly), Lifeway President Thom Rainer talked about 7 mistakes he had made in his ministry. Give him credit, he admitted that if he wrote about all the mistakes he'd made in the Lord's work, "it would have to be a multi-volume series!"
Before getting into my list, Thom's deserves a look-see.
He wishes he had spent more time in prayer...given his family more time...spent more time sharing his faith....had loved his community more...had led his church to focus more on the nations...he wishes he had focused on critics less...and last: he wishes he had accepted the reality that he cannot be everywhere and meet every need.
My hunch is that almost everyone who has spent a few years in the Lord's work can say 'amen' to everything on that list. My second hunch is that there is no one among us without regrets we did not do more of this and less of that. In fact, the more years you log in this work, the more scars you accumulate, the more experiences you pile up, and the more regrets hound your attempts to sleep.
"A pastor lives in a world of unfinished jobs." That's one of my foundational truths. If the preacher cannot learn to turn it off at night, he'll never get any sleep and not last. There's always someone else who needed a call, a meeting that needed planning, a sermon going neglected. There's always something.
"Regrets? I've had a few...." I'm hearing Reverend Frank Sinatra's voice in my head now.
Want my list? Pull up a chair; this may take a while. I have 10 mistakes as a preacher, 10 as a pastor, 10 as a visionary leader for my church, 10 as a leader of the church ministerial staff, 10 as a denominational worker....
Get the idea? Anyone who does anything for the Lord and mankind in this life is going to do a less than perfect job.
No one wants to grovel in regrets. I assure you I don't. (Even though I'm still going to give you my list.)
But there is a huge reason for not going into a litany of our failures and mistakes: God works even in our mistakes and can make good emerge from them. As a result, even though we look back and see the times we dropped the ball, we give thanks for what He accomplished through it all.
If you plotted on a graph the "advancement of my ministerial career"--as Paul said, "I speak as a fool"--you might conclude that I made a serious boo-boo in moving from Charlotte NC in 1990 to suburban New Orleans. Until then I had progressively moved upward. Suddenly, I'm taking a nosedive and assuming the leadership of a church one-half the size of my previous congregation. The new church was still smarting from a massive blowup 18 months prior. Money was tight, feelings were raw, leadership was fleeing.
In terms of the will of God, coming here was no mistake. Only humanly speaking might it be seen that way. However, God is sovereign and He did some mightly wonderful things as a result of this faith decision: gave us a precious daughter-in-law here and then three super grandchildren, a church with a world of great friends, and then after 14 years He moved me into the leadership of the local Baptist churches just in time for Hurricane Katrina!
The point is God can bring good out of little. He knows what he is about.
Okay. On to my list of worst mistakes as a pastor.
The old saying goes, "Christianity has not been tried and found not to work; it has been tried and found to be hard."
And we don't like difficult things.
I was reflecting on that this week and began making a list of "impossible" or "unnatural" acts the Lord requires of all who would be disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Let's make this very plain: The Lord delights in putting His children in spots too much for them to handle. He loves to ask more from us than we have to give. He does not mind at all throwing us into the deep part of the pool just to teach us a few things about His presence and power.
here is my list. They're in no particular order. Add yours at the end.
1. We are to love our enemies.
The natural thing to do is to hate our enemies and work to undermine them. Jesus Christ will have none of that. Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who despitefully use you. (Matthew 5:44)
We protest, "Lord, I don't even like them! So how can I love them?" Answer: He doesn't require us to like them. Just love them. And that means doing loving things toward them--like blessing them, doing good to them, and praying for them.
On the cross, Jesus called out, "Father, forgive them. They do not know what they are doing" (Luke 23:34). He demonstrated what He was demanding in us.
2. We are to serve the lowest, the least, the last.
The natural thing to do is look around for the most deserving and most appreciative and center all our efforts there. Jesus would have none of that. He said, "When you give a dinner...invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind" (Luke 14:12-13).
I've pastored churches where leaders did not want to do this. "Preacher, all those deadbeats come into the office asking for a handout. Why don't they get jobs. You know they could if they really wanted to."
My response was always to say, "Jesus told us to give to anyone who asked of us. This is not optional. He didn't say we had to give what they are asking for or as much as they want. But we are to be in the business of giving." Whether they deserve it or not is irrelevant.
After all, what if the Lord restricted Heaven's blessings to the deserving? We'd all be in the cold.
3. We are to submit to one another in the church.
Recently, while watching my favorite morning television news program--that would be "Morning Joe" on MSNBC--I was struck by a statement a host made about the war in Afghanistan.
"Less than 1 percent of our (military) people are in that country fighting. The American people are not invested in this war."
All the bells went off inside me. I've learned to recognize when the Lord is getting my attention.
Now, America itself is "invested" in the struggle against Al Qaeda in Afghanistan. We're sending billions of dollars, the latest equipment, and the finest young men and women this country produces.
Plenty of American families are "invested" in Afghanistan. Parents of our troops have that country at the top of their prayer list and devour every bit of news coming from the struggle there.
It's the American people across the board who are not invested in this war.
What exactly does that mean? and is there a message here for those of us in the ministry?
The statement means the American public is not aware of what's going on in that Middle-Eastern country, and the struggle there feels remote and distant.
It means that most of us have no personal stake in this war. When we're unsure of the issues and uncertain of our goal, when we do not know anyone who is putting his/her life on the line there, and when we have no personal ties to anything, we are "uninvested."
Have you ever watched a World War II movie, one made when that worldwide struggle was actually taking place? You might have found yourself wondering why similar movies were not made in subsequent wars. When America fought in Korea and later in Viet Nam, a few movies were turned out by Hollywood, but nothing that caught the American fancy.
The American people were "invested" in the Second World War. That's the difference. And they've not been in the others since.
In the 1940s, every town in America sent the cream of its youth to the fight. Every radio was tuned to the latest news. Gold stars shone from windows to say this family had lost a son in the service of his country. Dads followed developments with maps on the wall. Drives for metal, rubber, paper and even fats and grease were conducted in every community. Schoolchildren bought savings stamps and housewives contended with ration books.
Every citizen of this country was enlisted to fight that war. That's what it means to be invested. You are involved, you have made a sacrificial contribution, you have a personal stake in what's going on and you care how it turns out. Nothing is too remote, too distant for you not to care about. Day and night your prayers ascend that this fight would soon end.
Now, here are two churches. The congregation of the first is not invested in the Lord's work. In the other, they are. The difference is staggering.
I'm not sure I'm ready to stake my life on this--it probably needs more thought and discussion--but it seems to be that we in the church would do well to cut back on our public pronouncements about our intentions. That is, some discussions need to be kept within the family and would never be understood by an outsider.
A few years ago, the Southern Baptist Convention announced that it would urge members of our churches to boycott Disney parks. The press covered it, we became the butt of every bad joke in the country, and untold reams of paper were wasted as columnists weighed in with their views on the matter. If we had any lasting effect, it escaped my notice.
These things are better off left "in house," I'm thinking.
I recall years ago, Dr. Bill O'Brien, a missionary and pioneer innovator for missions in our denomination, saying that even the term "missionary" should be kept in-house. Outside, it's a controversial subject. Well, it took a couple of decades, but eventually our people came around to see his point. Nowadays, denominations' send out consultants, workers, engineers, teachers, and strategists. The same people, just different titles.
I wonder if we have learned this lesson yet.
Several times lately, while reading my way through the Psalms, I was tripped by a little comment I'd read right past the previous hundred times I've traveled this landscape. Right in the middle of a discussion of some theological point, the Psalmist will say, "But as for me."
When he does that, you know you're getting something personal. This is not theoretical, not philosophical, and not "out there" somewhere. If you are like the rest of us, you perk up at this and get ready for something you can identify with.
Case in point. In the remarkable 73rd Psalm (there's nothing else like it in all the Bible; if you're unfamiliar with it, we encourage you to check it out), the writer brackets his discussion with that phrase.
After declaring that "God is good to Israel, to such as are pure in heart," the psalmist says, "But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled." What follows is a testimony of how he envied the wealthy wicked. He noticed that they seem to live long healthy lives, they enjoy their families, and nothing seems to bother them. This went completely against the grain of the typical Old Testament believer who, for the most part, believed that faithfulness to God resulted in material blessings, and material blessings were a sign of faithfulness to God. But this did not compute.
He struggled with that a while. Then he went to church. "Until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I understood their end" (73:17). Once he saw the final outcome (not just earthly, but after this life) of their wicked behavior, everything fell into place for him. He ends with a wonderful song of praise, and ends the psalm with:
But as for me, the nearness of God is my good. I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all thy works. (Ps. 73:28)
That personal touch is found throughout the psalms. (See Ps. 17:15; 59:16; and 75:9 for starters.)
Bible students will recall Joshua's excellent testimony along the same line:
Now therefore, fear the Lord and serve Him in sincerity and truth; and put away the gods which your fathers served beyond the River and in Egypt and serve the Lord. And if it is disagreeable in your sight to serve the Lord, choose for yourselves today whom you will serve....but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord (Joshua 24:14-15).
It's when the preacher makes it personal like this that he does his best work.
Two quotes from this morning's Times-Picayune jumped out at me, but for different reasons. The third quote is from Scripture and naturally, being the preacher that I am, I need to expound on it just a tad.
Gregg Williams is the defensive coordinator of the New Orleans Saints football team. In this morning's paper, he says, "I don't look at my job like being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. It's more like being the warden of a penitentiary. And I say this in a nice way."
I'm still smiling at that one. And can't think of a single remark to make about it!
The Associated Press reports that as Congress moves forward in its investigation of Rep. Charles Rangel for ethics violations, he "trots out" his three-way defense.
His 3-way defense. Or maybe we could call it "3-D."
1) I didn't do it.
2) I did it but unintentionally.
3) Anything I did was the same thing the other lawmakers have done but without penalty.
Tell me if that doesn't sound like you and me standing before the Almighty at Judgment. Making excuses. Pointing the finger. Justifying ourselves.
Third quote: "We desire...that you do not become sluggish, but imitate those who through faith and patience inherit the promises." (Hebrews 6:12)
Don't be a slug. A snail. A sloth. (Choose your favorite lazy animal.) Let's talk about this. It's actually quite a problem among God's people today.