Archive for the ‘Grace’ category
November 30, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. November 30, 2015
I’m having more senior moments…like when I was looking for my keys and two minutes later I discovered I was holding them in my left hand…senior moments like that.
But I also enjoy senior moments. Or, put another way, moments shared with seniors. My congregation has some incredible senior folk who are a part of it. They are the most caring, unconditional love-based, surprising group that I’ve had the privilege to pastor. They genuinely support one another, offer to help with rides, call on the phone to someone who doesn’t show up at their group gatherings.
Four of them are now in their nineties, and, although the effects of age are slowing them down, they are people of incredible faith and depth. Yesterday, a cold and snowy Sunday, none of them were able to be at worship and there was something missing. Worship isn’t a choice for them. It’s a commitment, and when they can’t come it is almost always because they are sick, are afraid of falling on ice or the snow, in the hospital, or out of town.
Another of the senior couples delight me with their humor and giving spirit. I am always blessed to be in the same room with them. The wife’s laugh is contagious and joy-filled. the husband’s stories are filled with wit that result in chuckles.
A retired military man and his wife grace me with their friendship. Even though we are not necessarily on the same page politically they are two people who give to others in sacrificial ways. The wife has a heart of gold that causes her to become emotional as she talks about the ordeals that others are going through. The husband serves every Sunday in some way, whether it be transporting one of the seniors or ushering and greeting people.
There’s an African-American lady who is like my “Black Mom!” in fact, I call her “Mom” from time to time. She gives me “instruction”, just like my mom did, prays for me, gives me “the look” just like my mom did. Wisdom and exhortation from her guide me in my journey.
There’s a lady who was a baker. She kneaded the doe for bread and cinnamon rolls. Her love went into each of her baked goods. Now she “kneads” the pains and heartaches of others each day in her prayers. Like working the doe, she works the words of her prayer for the sorrows of others. Her foundations are prayer and scripture.
There’s another lady who is the group guardian. She sometimes senses the indecision of the group and says “Here’s what we’re going to do!” She senses when someone doesn’t want to impose on anyone else, and tells the the person that things will be taken care of. She’s the Joshua in a group of Jack and Jills.
Another lady, who is on the younger end of the seniors, has a gentle spirit, an attitude of grace, and the heart of a servant. A widow, she has encountered her share of sorrow, and knows the journey that many of our senior folk are on.
There’s another woman who moved here a few years ago from another state. She volunteers whenever there is a need…at the local school, for Wednesday night dinners, giving out food to those in need, making quilts and clothing. The last few months have been hard for her as her health has taken some hits. She does not have a high opinion of doctors, but has a very high opinion and love for the woman just mentioned before her.
A widower who has started coming to our group recently is my razor…and also someone I razz. We feel very comfortable giving soft jabs to one another. I had his wife’s funeral a few years ago. She was killed by a drunk driver. Pain and sorrow have punctuated his world, and this group of seniors keeps him anchored and cared for.
Another woman who is fairly new to the group makes the best cookies I’ve ever eaten. In her mid-eighties she has a smile that would like up a cereal box and a warmth that is accepting of others.
Another couple are like Aquila and Priscilla, serving in ways that do not make headlines, but needed. The man has become the best friend of another guy who has endured a life of disappointment and heartache. These two are people who are gifts from God, people who “come alongside” someone in need.
And then there is a transplanted Buckeye who is in the midst of jubilation this week for his college team’s victory over Michigan. He imparts his wisdom to me, and encouragement for decisions made and sermons preached. His emails are always in capital letters. In fact, if they were capitalized I would instantly know someone had pretended to be him.
So many blessings! So much enjoyment that has come into my life from folk who have traveled the journey of life.
As I enter my last month as their pastor I know…i know…I know that I have been greatly blessed!
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: blessings, caring, elderly people, Encouragement, humor, Joshua, ninety year olds, Old age, senior adults, senior folk, Seniors, servant, serving, supporting, supportive, widow, widower, wisdom
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November 25, 2015
WORD FROM W.W. November 24, 2015
A long-time friend of mine who recently lost her sister to cancer wrote a post on her Facebook page that resonated with me. She said, “Because of all your sincere prayers on my behalf my anger (that is a bit extreme) at God is gone. I was disappointed the Lord did not heal my sister on this earth. I am choosing to run to Him, not from him.”
What is the direction of our run when we are in pain? It is easy to run from the God who didn’t answer our heartfelt prayer in the way we desired. Distance from God is a natural reaction to disappointment with God.
My own running has been punctuated by sprints away from God and slow crawls back to him. My running away in disappointment has sometimes been the result of God not going along with my desire for my enemy to suffer, or the absence of an angelic choir to sing about how my answer to a hotly debated problem is right.
Sometimes my running away comes from the unfairness of life, sometimes it happens because I don’t want to be fair with God.
My friend’s reference to running to him is using the lane with few footprints in it. David chose to run in this lane quite often, but, as we know, he also had his races of retreat.
What is the direction of our run? When the content of our prayers is dominated by the wants of our life we can expect that there will be a running from the Giver of grace. When our prayer is focused on our relationship with the Father running to him will often be our response.
If I am secure in my belief that what God wants for me is wholeness, not hurt, I will be slowly running to him.
We have a way of putting “what if’s” in our theological outcomes. Another friend of mine from years ago lost his daughter in an accident recently. I can not understand his grief, and, therefore, how he is journeying through the loss of life. Knowing the depth of his spiritual journey I’ve got a feeling it resembles someone swimming laps in a pool…the swimming away is followed closely by a swim to…and then a swim away!
My choice to run to God seems much less complicated than his.
This is Thanksgiving Week. A time to run to God and recognize that he is caring, concerned, loving, and kind. In a world with daily terrorist threats and warnings I’m choosing to be in the shadow of his wing…the cleft of the rock…rather than the isolation of my disappointment.
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: angry with God, David, Disappointment, disappointment with God, grief, loss, Prayer, Psalms, Running, running to God, spiritual journey
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November 16, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. November 16, 2015
In recent weeks I’ve come to realize a few things about being the adult. Sometimes the younger ones we’re raising up, teaching, discipling, are teaching and mentoring you…the adult, the teacher, the pastor…perhaps more than you’re impacting them.
About a month ago, when I was in Chicago, I had dinner with a young lady who was in the youth group I directed more than thirty-five years ago. I still refer to Cyndi as a young lady even though she is now in her mid-fifties! When we met for dinner we had not seen each other for about ten years, but it was like we had seen each other the day before. A three hour conversation ensued. It was delightful to talk about the past, the present, and the future; to hear what God has done in her life and the lives of her family, to hear of a special mission project that her ninth grade son has initiated that has taken off.
And in the midst of it I realized that Cyndi, and her friends Laura, Sue, George, Wave, and others had raised me up as a youth minister. They showed grace to me when I was trying to figure out how to communicate scriptural truth to adolescents. They gave me the freedom to laugh at myself for my moments of cluelessness. They stood beside me in times of lacking confidence, and showed me that there are different ways of looking at a relationship with Jesus besides the Baptist mindset, the only view I had ever experienced.
And perhaps most amazing, and deeply moving, was to hear that Cyndi had become a follower of Christ at a Young Life Camp in Colorado I took a van load of students to the summer I was on staff at her church. For some reason I hadn’t been aware of that. And now 37 years later I was blessed to discover the rest of her story.
The students we mentor often becomes the students who mentor us.
Last week another of my former youth groups students, Deb Simpson Aldridge, went home to be with the Lord. She battled cancer, and cancer finally won, but her victory was assured even in the midst of death because of her faith in Christ. Deb was part of the first youth group I directed at First Baptist Church in Marseilles, Illinois. I had just graduated from Judson College in Elgin, Illinois, was going to start seminary that next fall, and was hired by the church to be the summer youth director. I had never had a youth position before…operated out of the experience of cluelessness! Deb and her sister Connie were two high school students in the youth group who accepted me right away. At my less-than-stellar bible study gatherings they would voice their thoughts and help me to keep going. There is nothing quite as disconcerting than to lead a group of students who sit there and look at you like you are speaking a foreign language. Deb would share something, or, in a loving sisterly way, tell Connie that what she just said was ridiculous.
Deb had a dry wit and humor that made our gatherings or road trips in the van experiences of laughter-laced fellowship. Anything I planned or suggested she would support. Think of it! A young guy right our of college with no experience could have been trampled to a ministry death by a youth group that saw him as an outsider to be neglected, but this youth group raised me up to proceed forward for a forty years of ministry. They could have killed me, but inside they mentored me.
Deb’s passing made me realize the effect she had on my life and my ministry.
Cyndi, Deb, Connie, Steve Landon, Shirl Streukens, Jon Daniels, the Epps Twins, Phil Girard, Jon Girard, Amy Anderson, Keri Anderson, John Chora, Brad Johnson, Tiffany Chora,Tony Lamouria…the list of student mentors for my life is long and deep.
A big part of how I see ministry…especially youth ministry…has been chiseled into my person by their hands.
And I am very, very blessed!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: adolescence, church van., Deb Simpson, disciple, Marseilles Illinois, mentor, mentoring, Young Life, Young Life Camp, youth director, youth groups, youth minister, youth ministry
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November 10, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. November 9, 2015
I never knew my dad’s dad. He was killed in a mining accident when my dad was in his early teen years. When you don’t know someone you miss out on part of the family story. You forget that there was family history before you ever were!
A little more of the family past was revealed to me by my dad when I was visiting him back in Ohio about a month ago. I hadn’t really thought about why my dad had been named “Laurence Hubert Wolfe”. He just was…that’s all! I never knew him by any other name and didn’t question it. It’s like breathing…we don’t think about it just is. For all I knew,
But there is a wonderful story of redemption and grace behind my dad’s first and middle names. His father, Silas Dean Wolfe, had a tendency to drink too much. Alcohol was destroying his life one shot at a time. He was losing his grip on things. My dad never said that my grandfather was an alcoholic, but he had one foot stepping into that problem.
When it seemed that he was a lost cause two Baptist ministers came into his life and walked with him through the struggles. They stayed beside him in the midst of the temptations, and lifted him out of the depths. The names of the two Baptist ministers were “Laurence” and “Hubert.” The impact of their tough love and restorative grace was so profound that my father bears their names as his names.
For many of us, our names are passed down from one generation to the next. My two names comes from a great uncle and my Uncle Dean. Some of us are “Juniors” or “the third!” But my dad’s name…Oh, my! His name is a constant reminder that the depths of a person’s life can still be ascended from. His name reminds him of where his dad had fallen and how he had risen again. His name reminds him of people who come into our loves as messengers of redemption, stand beside the broken, and never leave us!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Grandchildren, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: alcoholics, Baptist ministers, Dad, family history, family story, grace, ministers, pastors, recovery, redemption, restoration, tough love
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November 6, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. November 5, 2015
In our front yard there is a tree that could have played the part of the Christmas tree in “Charlie Brown’s Christmas.” If there was ever a homely looking tree it is our front yard pine tree. People look at it and shake their head in pity.
Over the years I’ve thought about plant euthanasia. Every week I mow around the warped branches I get a vision of a chain saw and a chipper.
But I’ve held off on what most others would say is the expected. Each year of the sixteen years we’ve lived in our home I’ve thought that the tree would straighten out its ways…but it hasn’t. Each year resonates with hope for some resemblance to a tree in a painting, but it keeps looking like tree that has had a stroke.
I call it my “Grace Tree.” Every time I look at it I think of grace. It gives me the opportunity to extend grace when chopping is the logical solution.
Each one of us needs a “Grace Tree” in our life…an illogical decision that goes against what the textbook says.
I see myself in that tree! God has the axe and he decides to put it down and pour a pitcher of water into the soil instead. He decides to nurture and love instead of chop down and mow over. Grace sees the beauty where there is no attractiveness. God sees my warts and calls them marks of maturity.
My neighbors stare at my Grace Tree with hope that I will come to my senses. It looks more like Jack’s beanstalk that rises to the sky, but no width in its branches. But I hold off! My grace tree is a theological statement to me personally every time I look at it.
This is the grace of God for me!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Christmas, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: attractiveness, beauty, Charlie Brown, God's grace, grace, homeliness, pine tree, ugly
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October 30, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. October 29, 2015
Our money preaches our priorities. It clearly conveys what we feel is important and what is an add-on. It conveys our dedication to comfortableness and reluctance to commitment.
As I approach retirement from being a pastor…a paid pastor that is…I’ve been doing more and more thinking about money. Carol and I are looking at what we can expect, and not expect, once my position at our church ends.
But I’ve also been thinking about my responsibility to support the next generation of “God’s called.” I’ve been blessed to see several people I’ve known as their pastor or their coach enter into some form of full-time ministry. I believe I have a responsibility to affirm and encourage their calling through words of blessing, prayerful support, and financial backing. It’s the punctuation mark to their blessing, to be affirmed in these ways instead of comments like “Hope it works out for you!”
That conviction I have was affirmed today as Carol and I met a young man named Tony LaMouria, his charming wife Elisabeth, and their four boys…nine years old down to seven months.
Carol and I have known Tony since he appeared one cold, sleet/rain Sunday morning at our church in Mason, Michigan, riding a bicycle. That ride into our midst began a new chapter in his faith journey that was marked by disappointment, confusion, acceptance, and unconditional love.
There’s so much to “the Tony Story” that I won’t mention, but one thing that I will mention is how one family in the church, the Andersons , took Tony into their home, gradually brought him to the point where he became the new little brother to their two older daughters, and modeled for him a love that is blended with wisdom, firmness, and encouragement. The Andersons felt a deep responsibility to support this high school kid with a charming smile and a confusing past. They were entering the period in their lives called “the empty nest”, and now they believed God had called them to parent another who wasn’t even theirs.
That family that supported him was part of a new foundation in Tony’s life. The other was our church that took him in, came alongside his new family in the “congregational parenting” of him, and applauded him in his accomplishments.
Today as Carol and I talked with him and Elisabeth he told us of their calling to be a part of a mission organization that sends pastors to churches, mostly rural or small towns, who don’t have the financial resources to support a pastor. There are thousands of churches like that around our country. In our conversation Tony shared how important our church in Mason was to him at that time in is life when he was trying to figure out if he had purpose and value. As he said to us today, if he had gone to a large church he would have gotten lost in the crowd, but our church loved him and embraced him. Now, years later, he sees the value in small churches, and is looking to serve in one of them.
That means I have a responsibility to continue the blessing, to come alongside him, to help him to keep the pursuit.
What blessing! What a responsibility! What a privilege!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: blessing, called, called by God, convictions, encouraging, Mason, mentoring, Michigan, missions, responsibility, small churches, Village Missions
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October 26, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. October 26, 2015
Bernice latched on to my dad’s hand. She had forgotten her cane. A ninety-three year old can’t be expected to remember everything! She got her housecoat first, but didn’t think about her cane leaning against the wall in her kitchen. Friday night fire alarms at 9:00 were a nuisance…and, more than likely, Leo, who lived down the hallway, had set it off because he wanted some late night fried bacon.
The various elderly folk slowly wandered into the hallway amidst the very loud and obnoxious sounds of the building’s fire alarm system.
“Leo’s been frying bacon again!” bellowed Bonnie! Bonnie had responsibilities to take care of. She assumed her role as “group captain.” She had six people that she had to make sure were okay. “Okay” meant she had to check them off on her clipboard which she clutched close to her chest as she strutted into the darkness.
The senior independent living complex had been through this before. It was the second time that Leo had given into temptation for late-night bacon resulting in the fire alarm sounding. the evidence of his crime could be seen in the smoke rising from the grease in the skillet. There had also been a 4:00 A.M. fire alarm a couple of months ago because of a system malfunction, to which Leo now used the excuse, “At least I set it off at a decent time!”
Bernice clutched my dad’s hand, one unsteady person teaming up with another shuffler. She was feisty and my dad did not refuse her. He had no choice. She commandeered his hand as soon as they walked outside.
Bonnie checked people off.
“Bernice!”
“Here!”
“Laurence!”
“Present!”
“Nellie!”
“Coming!”
“Agnes!”
“Agnes isn’t coming.”
“Why isn’t she coming? I’ve got to check her off.”
“She doesn’t want to. She’s just going to stand on her balcony.”
Bonnie tried to hide her annoyance. It was a fire alarm and Agnes, ninety-five and counting, decided she was going to pout and not follow protocol. “These people!” she muttered to herself.
“Leo!”
Leo stood in the distance smoking a cigarette. Smoking bacon in his apartment and smoking a Winston outside.
The fire alarm kept blaring. People were getting annoyed. There was a good movie playing right then on the Hallmark Channel and they were missing it. Senior citizens only have so much patience, and then they just do what they want to.
Bernice pulled her housecoat tighten to her body while trying to get some warmth from my father. Although my mom was six months older than Dad, it’s still awkward to see your dad holding hands with a woman six years older than him.
The alarm finally shut off and Bonnie assumed group control. People had to have her permission to go back inside. She held the clipboard of power.
“All right! You can go back in now. See everybody at breakfast! Leo, no more frying bacon!”
Leo there his cigarette butt down and crushed the life out of it.
Friday night fun! Although most of the residents gave Leo “the look”, they also admitted that it was nice to have a little fire alarm excitement on a chilling evening. Bonnie was proud of the fact that she performed her duties flawlessly, and Bernice couldn’t remember the last time she had held hands with a fine looking gentleman. She gave thought to buying Leo another pound of bacon!
Categories: children, Community, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized
Tags: bacon, elderly, fire alarm systems, fire alarms, frying bacon, senior citizens, senior folk, senior living complex, Seniors, walking cane, Working together
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October 19, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. October 19, 2015
As the late Yogi Berra said, “It ain’t over until it’s over!” According to a Grand Rapids TV station it was over before it was over, as the reporter stood outside Michigan Stadium…the Big House…and reported Michigan as the victors over Michigan State.
But it wasn’t over! Obviously, he had a deadline! All U of M had to do was punt the ball, or at least hold on to the ball, for the final ten seconds and the victory over their in-state rivals would be assured. The TV broadcasters were even talking about the Wolverines getting the upper hand once again in regards to in-state recruiting.
And then the impossible happened!
Now…I’m not one to believe that God is partial to someone when it comes to a game of some kind, but could that thunder be the laughter of heaven?
I have to admit that I had resigned myself to a Spartan loss. My youngest daughter was already texting in whining words! According to the odds, Michigan State had a 0.2% of victory heading into those final 10 seconds.
I wonder what the odds were for the Hebrew people to make it through the Red Sea? I wonder what the chances of Daniel making it out of the Lion’s Den un-chewed were? I wonder what the odds were for Jesus to make it out of the tomb?
It ain’t over until it’s over!
The picture of the Michigan student with his hands on top of his head was a scene of disbelief. Expect it to be in SI this week!
The scene of disbelief in that final play will rival the ending of the Cal-Stanford football game in 1982 where the Cal player ran the final twenty yards or so through part of the Stanford band, who thought the game was over.
This play will be right up there, complete with open mouths and resurrected Spartan hopes.
Wow!
Categories: Bible, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Cal-Stanford football game of 1982, Football, football game, improbable victory, Michigan State Spartans, Michigan Wolverines, Spartan football, UM-MSU football game
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October 18, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. October 18, 2015
This past week I was traveling from Chicago to my dad’s place located in the southern tip of Ohio. It’s a trip that I did many times when I was in seminary…36 years ago! In 36 years, however, roads change, new configurations of asphalt are created that seek to baffle the wisest.
But I have my iPhone friend, Siri, to lead me and guide me! She shares mileage numbers, how many miles until I come to the next road I’m suppose to turn on to. I even asked her to tell me where the next Cracker Barrel restaurant is.
I put a lot of trust in Siri!
When I arrived on the outskirts of Cincinnati, which must have every road under construction, she navigated me through the maze of I-74 to 275 to 71 to somewhere else. She took me over the river and through the woods to the business district of Cold Spring, Kentucky. I began to doubt as I passed the First Baptist Church of Cold Spring; doubted even more as the speed limit decreased to 35 as the road wound itself past a Waffle House. She took me to Highway AA, which I’ve never heard of. Roads have always been numerically marked in my experience, and now I’m following two capital letters into the dark.
She gave me an arrival time in Proctorville, Ohio, and, by golly, she was right! I followed here directions through hill and dale, past surging coal trucks and lounging late-night drivers.
Siri could have led me into the Ohio River, not over it, if she wanted to. She could have not been current in her understanding and sent me to Virginia instead of briefly passing through West Virginia. She could have been quiet or garbled in her directions, or given an instruction and a few minutes later added a “My mistake!”
I trusted her, even though I’ve only heard her voice.
It occurs to me that my trust in the Lord often doesn’t run as deep as my trust in Siri. I pray for his guidance, I ask for his direction, and yet I’m prone to not follow it. I sing the song “Where He Leads I Will Follow”, but am content to take personal detours that lead me into periods of wilderness wanderings.
Scripture gives me story after story of people who followed the Lord, or heard his voice and didn’t heed his warnings. Scripture tells me of the guidance of the Holy Spirit. It tells me of the hope of the gospel, the perseverance of the saints, the journey of the people of God. I’m reminded again and again that God is faithful, that he will never fail me.
But I exhibit limited trust in the absolutes of the Almighty! If I could figure out why that is I could bottle it and make billions, or travel the country giving over-priced seminars to a multitude of others who have issues following the leadings of the Lord.
But I have a hard time figuring out myself. I’ve got a streak of idiocy within me mixed together with a hint of common sense.
And so…I am continually amazed by grace. Grace is essential for the faith traveler whose strength is getting lost! Grace excuses where there is no excuse.
Grace stays with me even when my trust has exited the highway.
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Faith, Grace, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Cold Spring, Cracker Barrel, directions, following, Highway AA, highways, iPhone, journey, Kentucky, Ohio, Proctorville, Siri
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September 20, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. September 19, 2015
When I walk into my office at the church I pastor I need to step around the rocking chair, and then side step the rocking horse. It’s an obstacle course to get to my desk. Avoid the squeaky rabbit and the weathered doll baby. Toddler toys are huddled together in a corner whispering about life…right behind the changing table.
Not a typical situation, but one that I’m adjusting to. Our roof leak over part of the usual nursery childcare area has caused multiple examples of improvising. For a couple of weeks the babies and toddlers are surrounded by Bonhoeffer, C.S. Lewis, and Tozer. Perhaps the theology and examples of sacrifice will sink in!
Our nursery workers are scheming. I’ve heard them talking about switching my desk chair with the low-riding rocking horse. Nursery pranksters!
Adjusting. An essential part of being a community of faith is “adjusting.” Demanding preferences that are not rooted in God creates division and tension. Adjusting to the flow of the community enhances mission and ministry.
There are numerous opportunities for the fellowship of followers to practice a new spiritual discipline that I’ll call “yielding.” In the past it has been referred to in different ways…serving, fellowship, even worship. But kind of like the World History textbook we used to have in high school where you never quite got to the end of the book before summer vacation, “yielding” is that spiritual practice we never quite get to because of all the other things that we’re focusing on.
How do you yield? Put a rocking horse in your normal daily pathway and you’ll either kick it or take a side-step. We all need a few “rocking horses” in our lives, but especially in the tugging and pulling of a congregation.
Tomorrow morning when I open my office door and “Trigger” is hunched there ready to gallop it will make me think, and remember once again, that it’s not all about me!
When the roof leak situation has been remedied and the changing table goes back to the nursery down the hallway I may keep the horse for a while. It helps me keep perspective!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: adjusting, Bonhoeffer, C.S. Lewis, Nursery, Tozer, walking together, yield, yielding
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Words from WW Blog 