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Freckles, Zits, Warts, and Age Spots

May 22, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                               May 22, 2013

Hitting 59 has made me more conscious of my slowness, morning aches, evening exhaustion, and the multiplying of pill bottles. When I look in the mirror I notice a couple of warts that weren’t always there, but have grown in prominence as I’ve clicked off the years.

The last year of your fifties makes you think of what has been and where you have been. When I was growing up in Winchester, Kentucky I was graced with some freckles on my face. I was actually cute, especially when I was missing a few teeth in the midst of freckled cheeks. Freckles were signs an imaginative childhood. I played with imaginary friends, or even played football against an invisible defense, scoring touchdowns on two yard dives in my backyard. Freckles were child-like, not childish.

A few years later, about the time when it was no longer cool to be cute, pimples started sprouting up on my face like mysterious dandelions in spring lawns. I discovered Clearasil and other products that were suppose to ease the uncomfortableness of adolescence.

Zits were a sign of not knowing whether I was still a child or had emerged into the beginnings of adulthood. It was that time when I wasn’t sure what was going on in my life. I wanted parental closeness, while at the same time keeping some distance. My dad lost some of his intelligence. I insulted my mom’s fried chicken. I wanted to be somebody, and yet I often felt like a nobody. I had a humorous streak about me, but I also was painfully short. Dreams of who I might grow up to be were being shattered. I missed the days of being a child, but knew that I was speeding towards a time of more responsibility.

And now, years later, I look in the mirror and only see trace of the freckles and a couple of little scars from the effects of teenage zits. The warts now stand out. I’m suppose to now have it all together. Experience echoes through my facial imperfections. Although people tell me that I don’t look my age, no one is approaching me to go to a rock concert at Red Rocks, or inviting me to watch Monday Night Football at Buffalo Wild Wings.

I am now a picture of maturity, and I’m about as comfortable with it as I was with youthful blemishes. Oh, it isn’t that I don’t want to be responsible. It is more that I often feel burdened…weighed down by the expectations of others. I want to be able to make mistakes, but I’m often viewed as someone who isn’t allowed to make mistakes.

And yet my warts also tell me that I’m in that phase of life when people want to know what I think, where they will often take their lead from me. There is some sense of gratification that goes with that sprinkled over the mass of responsibility.

I’m just around the corner from the next phase called “age spots.” Sometimes they appear like someone took a red marker to the face. Other times they emerge as little pre-cancerous spots. In fact, I’ve already had a few frozen off by my physician. My dad has undergone two sets of radiation treatments for cancerous spots on his ear and nose.

Age spots are a sign that I’ve gone from being a learner to a leader to a mentor. More of my time will be spent in coffee conversations and quiet reflection. I’ll start collecting letters, photos, and other indications of a lived life. I feel valued as a result of people asking me what I think, as opposed to pressing my opinions. There is soundness in “elders” being respected in the church.

Freckles, zits, warts, and age spots. It seems that there are many parallels between those facial stages and a person’s spiritual development. Dare I also say there are many parallels also with a church’s life stage.

We go from childlike energy and optimism to youthful uncertainty; living out our faith responsibly to passing on the soundness of our beliefs to the next generation.

Chaos appears when we confuse life phases; when a pimpled church tries to pretend it is certain and unyielding in it’s statement of belief, or a warted congregation is childish in it’s actions and attitudes.

A church that is healthy is one that is allowing each of it’s participants to live in the period of faith that they are in.

Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
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Taking A Page From Abercrombie and Fitch

May 10, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                     May 10, 2013

The CEO of the clothing chain, Abercrombie and Fitch, recently reiterated his business plan focus that A&F is for the hot and attractive young people. They don’t want larger sized people to wear their clothes, or be customers in their stores.

Cool, obviously, is everything!

CEO Mike Jeffries made this statement: “In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids. Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong in our clothes, and they can’t belong.”

This is not a new position for A&F. Those words were said by Jeffries in a 2006 interview. The troubling thing is that even though we are irked by the arrogance, we go along with the philosophy. How can I say that? A&F is a 5 billion dollar company. The younger crowd drops money there like crazy! Teens and twentysomethings and “wanna-be twentysomethings” have bought into the idea that wearing A&F is an element of creating an image.

The arrogance of A&F is that they define what the image is, and expect the customer base to, pardon the pun, “fit into it.” Some of that arrogance has come out in several discrimination court cases involving minorities, the dismissal of an employee who wore a prosthetic forearm because she was told that her appearance breached the store’s “Look policy”, and the dismissal of a Muslim woman who refused to remove her head scarf.

And yet people… the right people…continue to shop at the store like it is selling Beatle’s memorabilia…oops, wrong generation!

The concern I have is that I see some of that filtering into the church. I really do! Not that we should be surprised. The Corinthian church could have put an A&F logo out front, except using Greek letters. There was that little problem that had with consuming all the food and wine before everyone had arrived for the Agape Feast, the love meal. Knowing the culture, those who arrived early for the agape meal was mostly those who were more financially stable. The people who arrived later were mostly the ones who had to work long hours just to survive.

Can you say cool and not-cool?

Paul’s stress to the church at Corinth about being “the body of Christ” had immense relevance to what was going on there.

I know…I know, we usually talk about the church being twenty years behind the times. The point, however, is not whether we are behind the times or ahead of the masses. It is that the church is the one institution, the one organization, that it not to be exclusionary. It is the group that discards the labels that the rest of our culture slaps on us. The book of James cautions about discriminating between rich and poor in the seating arrangements. Jesus used sharp words towards his disciples who were trying to keep children from bothering him. The first century church reorganized in order to take care of the widows.

And yet there still seems to be a part of us that wants our church to be populated with the cool people. It’s the dirty little secret that testifies to our fallen nature.

The church should have a sign that says “A&O”, the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, because the arms of Jesus are intended to cover everyone in between.

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
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Hitting Safely, Falling Hard

May 8, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                      May 8, 2013

 

I was playing my first softball game in a decade. It had been so long since I’d played that I had to dig to the bottom of the “odds and ends” barrel in our garage to find my mitt. Unfortunately, I could not find my old pair of rubber cleats that I used to wear. They probably made their way to Goodwill a few years ago, and have since gone on to “Glove Glory.” So I fished out an old pair of tennis shoes that were missing a few years of thread and headed for the ball park.

I had told our manager, Kimberly, that I was content to “ride the pine” (except it was aluminum), but she said “No, everybody is playing.”

I didn’t even have to share my career stats with her. This might be a similar story to the movie “The Natural”, starring Robert Redford, about a former player, Roy Hobbs, coming back to play after disappearing for a few years.

It might be…but it isn’t! If there was a sequel entitled “The Elderly” I could have played the lead.

After a less than memorable first two times at bat, but a nice backhand glove pick-up at third of a screaming grounder, I came to bat for the third time in the fourth inning ready to hit opposite field. The pitch was begging me to hit it, so I pounced on it and hit an almost-line drive that actually landed just inside the first-base line just out of the infield.

“Run, Forest, run!”

I made the turn at first base to head for second as the ball continued to bounce away from the first baseman and right fielder.

The capacity crowd of four woke up and cheered (I think).

Then it happened. I had a tennis shoe blow-out fifteen feet past first base. I hit black ice disguised as dirt…and I fell hard…I mean the ground shook…almost!

My left knee hit the ground first and then my right leg took an unnatural twist…better known as “An AARP side effect”…and I felt the muscle pop. It’s quite a mental shift to hit safely and then fall hard. Come to think of it, first base has been my injury nemesis in the past as well. About 20 years ago I hit a ground ball to the short-stop whose throw to first base was a little up-line. It connected with my jaw and broke it in two places. I was safe at first that time, also, and then slumped to the ground.

Some have reminded me that I hit 59 last Sunday, so there must be some correlation between 59 and falling hard. Perhaps my old cleats being at Goodwill had something to do with it just as much! I’m going with the cleats story.

It reminds me of the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 18 where he defeats the 450 prophets of Baal. He is in the groove, on a tear! But then Jezebel makes death threats, and Elijah falls hard. He goes down. His stumble takes the form of a flee for his life and then a hiding in a cave.

Sometimes our stumbles happen as quickly as trying to turn a single into a double. Sometimes our stumbles happen gradually as we allow pride, power, and position to blind us to the cliff we are hovering on.

Following my stumble something else happened that is significant. After I hobbled back to first base  and got a sub to take my place, my teammates came to my rescue with concern (and maybe a little chuckling) and encouragement. Thelma, a lady I deeply admire and respect, asked me about a dozen times during the rest of the game if I was okay. Others gave me pats on the back. No one said “That should be a lesson to you about whether you should be playing this game or not.”

When someone in the faith community stumbles there needs to be someone to pick him back up again. Being the church is not a spectator sport.

After my Roy Hobbs hit and titanic crash…we all went out for ice cream! There’s just something extremely right about that!

Categories: Christianity, Community, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
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Experiencing Grace On the Way To See Grace

April 28, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 April 28, 2013

My first words were actually “Oh, crap!”

The flashing lights came on as the Highway Patrol car was approaching me going the other direction. I was heading to my great niece Gracie’s soccer game.

“On my way to see Grace!”

I pulled over to the side of the river road and waited. The Highway Patrol female trooper came up to my passenger side window. I already had my driver’s license in my hand ready to grovel and look financially destitute.

“Did you see those wild turkeys heading up the hillside there?”

Huh? I was expecting “License and registration please.”

“No, I didn’t see them.”

“Yes, several of them”, she added, turning towards the roadside slope to our right. I glanced up the hill and caught sight of the bird moving higher.

“Got an idea of the speed limit on this stretch of road?”

Here it comes.

“Yes. It’s fifty-five, and I believe I was doing sixty-five.”

True confession is good for the soul. For some reason it made my sin seem more plausible, more normal.

“Sixty-seven.”

“Oh!”

“Do you have many problems with speeding?”

“No,” I thought, “it comes natural.” Instead of saying that however I started in on the disclaimers.

“Not usually, but I’m driving my dad’s Buick that has a little more get-up-and-go than my car.”

“What do you drive?”

“A Civic.”

“Oh!”

And then I added “Hybrid!” to further explain my unfamiliarity with a vehicle that actually has engine power.

“Colorado. I’ve got a brother that lives in Colorado.”

“Really! Where at?” This speeding violation is taking an interesting turn in the conversation.

“West of Colorado Springs. He says he can step out his front door and see Pike’s Peak.”

“Woodland Park?”

“I believe that’s it!”

I’m thinking, “Will this take $25 off my traffic ticket?”

“He says half of the time that people get stopped there is because the law enforcement is looking for marijuana…with the whole legalized thing going on.”

“Yes, ma’am!”I reply as I shake my head in a kind of “what’s the world coming to” kind of expression.

“Do you have any relatives in Wheelersburg?” she asked as she surveyed my driver’s license.

“No, ma’am! However, I did grow up in Ironton!”So some reason I thought creating ties with my growing up roots would cancel out my excessive speeding to get to a fourth grade girl’s soccer game.

“Well…Mr. Wolfe, I’m going to give you a warning about your speed today. You need to be careful and go a little bit slower. Okay?”

“I agree. I’ll make sure I’m more careful.”

She took my license and my Dad’s registration back to the cruiser and ran a check on them to make sure I wasn’t a convicted runaway felon on the lam. I waited, knowing that I was, as my grandfather used to say, “Guilty as sin!” Regardless of the power of my Dad’s car, or the justification that driving to my great niece’s soccer game should cancel out breaking the law, or even though I had been in church last Sunday (I had to be. I was giving the sermon!), a blazing pink speeding ticket should have been the rightful ending of the situation.

“Mr. Wolfe, I hope the rest of your visit goes well.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t believe those wild turkeys. You take care now.”

Thank God for wild turkeys to break the ice in conversation starters between grace-givers and law-breakers.

I slowly made my way to Gracie’s soccer game. I watched her with new eyes, not focused on her missed kicks, or other evidences of not achieving soccer perfection as a ten year old, but rather I focused on the fun she was experiencing playing a game and laughing with her teammates. As some of the adults watching shouted their disappointment in the mistakes of their sons and daughters who were playing on the field, my vision was on a Grace who was giggling. Perhaps I was able to see the upside of her soccer skills a little bit more because I had just experienced grace when I was on the downside.

On the way back to Dad’s place I watched my speedometer…and also saw the wild turkeys.

Categories: children, Christianity, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Transformed Opinions

April 26, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                               April 26, 2013

 

Once in a great while I get out my high school yearbook from the early seventies. It is a mixture of comical relief and embarrassment…even more embarrassing if there is someone looking at it with me! Comments get made such as “You looked like…THAT?” and “You wore THOSE kind of glasses?” the comments are never made in flattering ways that result in me pumping up my chest, but rather they are asked with a chuckling undertone.

It is easy to see how I have changed from a distance of forty years. Different glass frames (Thank God!), puffier cheeks, thinner hair. Distance sometimes makes things frightfully clear.

The reverse of that is trying to discern changes on a day-to-day basis. Unless a person goes through a “make-over”, how different someone is on Monday compared to Sunday, or even the previous Monday, is hard to know.

There are similar criteria involved in discerning a person’s spiritual transformation. I have a hard time knowing how I have grown in my walk with the Lord from my perspective. It may not even be as clear as a slowly receding hairline or expanding waist.

What I need are others who are in the midst of faith journeys to tell me what they are sensing. Sometimes those external views involve hard things to hear, such as sensing I’m in the midst of a spiritual dryness, or the identifying of an evident fear to go to a deeper level of trust. And sometimes those observations are encouraging and energizing comments that leave me asking “Really? You see how I’ve grown?”

The past few years I’ve attended a basketball official’s camp at some time during the summer. We don’t stand around a campfire singing “Kum-Ba-Yah” at this camp, or dance around the dining hall chanting “We are the Order of the Forks!”. At this camp we officiate basketball games while being watched by clinicians. As we go about managing the game on the court the clinicians take note and then share their observations with us during time-outs, half-time, and at the end of the game. They note good things we did- good calls, good communication- and bad things we do- lame calls, slow rotations in covering the court. Often during the three days together the clinicians will keep telling someone about a tendency that is being observed that needs to be corrected, and the official is able to correct that flaw by the end of the camp.

One of the instructions at the beginning of camp is to not use two words.

“Yes, but!”

“Yes, but” is resistance to the truth. It’s a bolted door closed to reality.

Likewise, spiritual transformation needs those external eyes, trusted others to guide us and instruct us.

When I want a humorous moment I open my yearbook. When I want the close truth of the present reality I go to those I know love me, want the best for me, and want me to be all that God intended for me to be.

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Using Up Good Soil

April 2, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                April 2, 2013

 

In basketball there is a negative comment that is sometimes made about a tall player who can’t catch, rebound, play defense, or shoot. Someone will see a player like that and say, “There’s a waste of height!”

It is meant to characterize the player as, pretty much, being useless. The same statement, with some revisions, has been made about musicians, football players, artists, and others. Let’s face it! We are often more prone to be critical than affirming.

But there is an interesting story that occurs in Luke 13 with Jesus that is a variation on the theme of wasted space. It revolves around a parable he tells about using up good soil. Here’s the scripture:

“A man had a fig tree, planted in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it, but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard. ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’

‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”  (Luke 13:6-9, NIV)

Bottom line! The fig tree was using up good soil! Undoubtedly it was sucking up nutrients and water that could help the other parts of the vineyard to grow healthier. It was a pothole that had become a sinkhole! It was like the “one low price” that had taken on so many additional fees that you no longer could even see the original one low price.

Just as many of the parables of Jesus prompted a number of thoughts and reactions, this parable follows suit. There is an obvious correlation between the fruitless fig tree and the nation of Israel at that time. Micah 7:1 comes to mind: “What misery is mine! I am like one who gathers summer fruit at the gleaning of the vineyard; there is no cluster of grapes to eat, none of the early figs that I crave!”

As I have re-read the parable many times I’m also struck by how it speaks to me, to my purpose, my life direction. Is there sometimes a restlessness in my life that could be summarized as a waste of good soil? Am I sometimes a user of good soil with no fruit to show for it?

Yesterday, here in Colorado Springs, watering restrictions went into effect. Since our residence is an even numbered address we are allowed to water our lawn and bushes on Sundays and Wednesdays. One of the results of the watering restrictions in the coming months will be that people will be a little bit more aware of what needs water, and what is a waste of water.

Is my life a waste of the grace of God? It’s a question I wrestle with. Without sounding arrogant, I believe that God has graced me with some incredible gifts. Like the tall basketball player ( I sometimes dream of being tall!), I realize being gifted, or blessed, and using your gifts are two different things.

Because of the weirdness of my mind I also think of the parable in relation to the Church. If a church is using up good soil, the Vineyard Owner is taking a dim view of things. Existing is not the purpose. It is not the end all! Passing a budget for the next year is not an indication of fruitfulness and fulfilling purpose. Having a full calendar of weekly events is not even an indication of fruitfulness.

Could it be that the vineyard worker is going to try to re-fertilize one more time and wait to see if the figs start appearing?

Tough questions that lead me in my journey this week. In the meantime there are a couple of pot holes in the parking lot that aren’t getting smaller, and a tall basketball player I know who has a hard time walking and chewing gum at the same time. Throwing a basketball in right now is not a pretty sight!

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Jesus, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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Spotify Theology

March 29, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                         March 29, 2013

 

As I write this blog post I have earbuds in and I’m listening to Darlene Zschech sing beautiful praise songs on Spotify. If you arent familiar with Spotify that means you are probably still paying for the music you listen to. Spotify is free…unless you go premium…which they hope you will! Premium is $9.99 a month and it means you can listen to music without any commercial interruptions. It’s like a music DVR. You can fast forward through the ads.

But, in terms of music, I’m cheap! So I go free and basic. What that means is that every four songs or so you get “commercialed up.” It makes for an interesting combination. Since Spotify is a music supplier that has Christian music as just one of it’s listening possibilities the advertisers to the business are all over the map.

For instance, I’m listening to Darlene sing the great song “I Will Wait.” The song ends and a commercial comes on advertising Trojan condoms. Awkward!

One moment I’m listening to Barbi Franklin play “Breathe on Me, Breath of God!” on her violin, and the next I’m being invited to a party where the beer is flowing.

Such pendulum swings are hard for me to make. I could pay the ten bucks a month and stay secluded in my own little between-the-ears world, but I won’t!

It seems, however, that our culture is more and more comfortable with the pendulum swings. Listen! I am not such a prude that I’m going to cast Trojans and tequila into the lake of fire. It seems that is also a polarizing element in our world; too often giving verdicts that something or someone is totally demonic or something or someone is the next thing to being in heaven. We have a hard time saying that something can fluctuate from good to bad depending on the situation.

It also seems that more and more people are comfortable with a Spotify kind of theology. A belief system that operates without concern for conflicting practices. For instance, I can pray for the leading of the Holy Spirit in my life this afternoon, and gather with a few friends to use a Ouiji board tonight.

Whereas my generation is uncomfortable with such diverse practices, other generations are not as uneasy with them. However, that isn’t meant to be a slam, because I think other generations, especially the current young adults, are more willing to dialogue with people they may disagree with. There seems to be more of a willingness to converse and learn from one another.

The red flag for any generation is being so immersed in the culture that our theology starts resembling basic Spotify. Praising Jesus one moment, and deciding on what type of condom I”ll buy your tonight the next.

Do I have solutions or answers? No, we seem to be too quick to give solutions and slow to listen. We live in a world of intertwining connections. So I want the free music, but without the commercials…and yet a big reason the music is free is because of the commercials. One can not operate without the other.

So I’ll continue to listen to Darlene Zschech sing the song “Under Grace”, and then try to live by grace

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Thursday Agendas

March 28, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          March 28, 2013

 

We often approach the same event with differing agendas. It’s like going to Lowe’s with Carol. I may be thinking that we’re going there to buy a bag of weed-n-feed, but her agenda is deciding on what new kitchen appliances we’re going to purchase. We enter the front doors and I start heading left…but she’s not following! That’s when she breaks the news to me!

Life often displays our conflicting agendas.

As a pastor I’m often bombarded with them. For instance, I’m thankful that I’m color blind so that I don’t have to be involved in what the color of the new sanctuary carpet is going to be. I have a hard time looking like mis-matched puzzle pieces in what I wear on Sunday morning, let alone knowing whether the carpet looks good or not!

Thursday of Holy Week in an upper room in Jerusalem a group of men with different agendas gathered to partake of the Passover meal. Some of them saw the gathering as a way of impressing the leader. Some of them saw it as a customary meal, like any other passover meal. Some of them saw it as a time to put their feet up. They had been walking a lot lately. An upper room away from the increasing crowds sounded good. One of them knew it was a time of preparation for a difficult time ahead.

Each approached the gathering differently. Only one of them was willing to take the very nature of a servant and wash the feet of the others.

What an awkward moment that must have been, to suddenly realize that one is on a different page than the one who leading! I wonder if there was a few moments of excuses thrown around.

“I was just about to do that, Jesus!”

“What I meant to say was…”

“Next time give me some forewarning. I didn’t know that was what you wanted to see happen.”

“My knees are really bothering me today.”

Thursday was like a traffic intersection where six different streets are converging. So of the mass one agenda, one mission, rose to the surface.

How did the others’ wants and preferences disappear?

Easily! Sometimes comparing wants and needs has a way of sorting out what is really important and what I wish would be important.

Of course, how often do I elevate my desires to the throne, and dismiss the Hope of nations?

I have to remind myself of that when I talk about what I “get out of a worship gathering.” What I tend to trash, someone has seen as being life-changing.

Today I will keep surrendering over and over.

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Tim’s Place

March 28, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                March 27, 2013

 

Carol and I had a unique experience this week while we were in Albuquerque. We went to a restaurant called “Tim’s Place.” (“http://timsplaceabq.com”)

“Tim” is Tim Harris. He was born in 1986 with Down’s Syndrome. His life could be characterized as one that continues to exceed expectations. Tim was voted Homecoming King of his high school in 2004. He was voted “Student of the Year” by his school administration and faculty. Friendliness is his gift. The slogan of Tim’s Place is “Breakfast. Lunch. Hugs.” Tim is the hugger. He roams the restaurant chatting with people and giving hugs. A digital counter on the wall keeps track of the number of hugs given. When we were there it was registering around 88,000.

Carol, who has a heart for kids with special needs, watched Tim carefully as he gave attention especially to little kids, children, and senior citizens (We aren’t quite there yet!). He took the role of host, conversationalist, chuckler, coffee refiller, and whatever else needed to be done.

Carol heard about Tim’s Place from watching a feature about it on NBC’s Today show. The restaurant was started by his mom and dad, who were looking for a way to help Tim experience success. His ability to make people feel welcome was evident from working at a Red Robin restaurant in prior years.

There was something special about the restaurant. The lady who waited on us seemed happy…joy-filled. In fact, everybody who worked at Tim’s seemed in good spirits.

Oh, that more of life was like Tim’s Place! Unfortunately it seems to be more of an oasis in a desert of self-centeredness. A day after we were there our youngest daughter called to say that her boyfriend’s house in another part of Albuquerque was broken into in broad daylight and the thieves made off with a few items.

That’s how our world is! Hugs here, hoodlums there!

Categories: children, Community, Freedom, Grace, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
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Things You Will Never See on a Baptist Church Sign

March 20, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                    March 20, 2013

A pastor’s group that I’m a part of (called Together in Ministry) includes some people who like to laugh and say things that we would never say on a Sunday morning. In fact, a lot of my blog post ideas come from this group. They help me create!

After my first mug of coffee this morning I got to thinking (finally) about some things to put on our church sign. I look for witty and short sayings that might catch some motorist’s eye without causing an accident. As I thought about some things to put on the sign my mind started thinking about how that topic might just played out in my TIM group, but not with sayings that WOULD appear on a sign, but rather with some things that will probably never, ever, ever  be seen on the sign of a Baptist church. For some of them…I am tempted! We are told, however, to withstand temptations…and also avoid being fired!

Here’s some list:

 

“BYOB Communion Sunday this week!”

“All are welcome…but especially those with deep pockets!”

“Bingo this Saturday night- $1,000 jackpot guaranteed!”

“This Sunday! Big donuts and a little sermon!”

“Our restrooms are clean!”

“Make sure you wipe your feet!”

“Free Coffee, but it’s cheap!”

“Baptism this Sunday! Dunk Tank available afterwards!”

“Our music is slower than Lawrence Welk!”

“Looking for a friendly church? Sorry!”

“Our pastor rocks! Sometimes he even reclines!”

“We love everyone…especially if they are like us!”

“We’re a progressive church! We loved the 50′s, but we live in the 70′s!”

“2-for-1 Sunday. Come to one service, get the second service free!”

“Our kids are out of control, but our young people are just out!”

“Jesus loves you! We’re still making up our minds!”

“The world is full of problems. That’s why we keep our church doors locked!”

“We believe in the Bible, especially the parts that don’t convict us.”

“Free Guilt served here! No questions asked!”

“Don’t come in here looking like that!”

“Pastor on vacation! Party this Sunday!

 

Sometimes it seems my mind is more focused on what I can’t say than what I can.

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
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