Archive for the ‘Prayer’ category

Sitting In The Back Row

January 4, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                            January 3, 2016

                                        

     Today I was a guest at the church that my head basketball coach and her husband are a part of…first Sunday as a visitor…first Sunday not as a pastor. It was the first Sunday that I’ve sat in the back row of a sanctuary…watching.

My head coach, Kasey, and her husband, Vance, are of the Church of Christ (non-instrumental) persuasion. It was interesting to worship in a different setting. The Church of Christ is a little different than American Baptist. Or…the Church of Christ would say that American Baptists are a little different than the Church of Christ. Let’s face it! We’re all different!

Greg, the preacher, (Kasey and I will have to have a conversation about why the term “pastor” isn’t to be used!) shared his heart for the community his congregation is located in. He sounded like me, except with a deeper voice and beard. The emphasis in my ministry was very much about the community, constantly irritating the congregation with the question “Why are we located here in this community?” and the even more irritating question “If we weren’t here would people notice?”

That emphasis dates back to when I was the Associate Pastor at First Baptist Church of Lansing, Michigan, located a block from the state capital. Chuck Landon, Senior Pastor, was an exceptional leader who saw the need to do ministry in the center city area. He was the only caucasian pastor invited to be a part of the gathering of African-American pastors. That didn’t come because he won a lottery drawing, but rather as a result of years of developing relationships with the pastors of that group. A young woman in the congregation had a vision for a neighborhood summer outreach program and Chuck encouraged her and supported her in the launching of S.O.A.R. (Summer Outdoor Activities and Recreation).

Bottom line! He modeled a church ministry aimed at the community. Preacher Greg spoke of that this morning, and it was good to hear of that desire to lead a church into being the helping hands of the community.

Today may have been the first Sunday in years that I was a receiver of communion as opposed to the presider of communion. Church of Christ grape juice tastes the same as Baptist grape juice. The bread, however, was a little different, but still qualified.

Church of Christ children make just as much noise as Baptist kids…and nobody seemed to mind! The smell of coffee, to be served after the service, drifted by my nostrils and through the sanctuary.

Being a guest makes you see things, appreciate what you’re experiencing, and drawn you towards the One you’ll urged others to worship all these years.

The first Sunday of a new journey…that is a little scary, and yet good…I think!

In A New Place

January 1, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                January 1, 2015

                                            

Today is my first official day as a retired pastor. Coincidentally it meshes with January 1, a day linked with new beginnings. Numerous people have congratulated me and asked me what I will be doing in this new part of my journey. I’ve been thinking a lot about that and have come up with some possible ways to invest my time. Here’s a few:

-Become a gamer! I have a PS2 in my study (currently covered up with books) that I have used about…twice in the past four years since my son-in-law passed it down to me. I bought thirty games for it at a garage sale three years ago for a dollar a game. I could hunker down and strengthen my thumbs.

-Get a job! Actually, I’m applying to substitute teach. But another possibility is being one of those people that puts cheese spread on crackers at Costco for people to sample.

-Watch all the TV shows I currently have on my DVR!

-Cook!

-Start a lawn mowing business! I’m thinking “Pastor to Pasture” Lawn Care!

-Take a class at Pike’s Peak Community College.

-Hang out with the retired guys drinking coffee at McDonald’s.

-Get a personal trainer and become a muscle-bound phenomenon.

-Sit in Starbucks writing Words from WW.

 

So many options!

My “hope” is to read, reflect, meditate, and write. I have about ten years of Leadership Journal issues, piles of past copies of Time, the daily newspaper, and a lifetime of books. Reading is one of the main ways that influence my reflecting. Something appears on paper that resonates with me and causes me to think about what is and what could be.

Retirement will give me a chance to pause and reflect, sit and ponder, and meditate on scripture.

My ability to write is intimately linked to reading, reflecting, and meditating. The clearer my words get pecked out the more I’ve been able to ponder. January 1 is a great day to say that I will write a blog post each day of the coming year…but also a little unrealistic. But I will think and write, say some things that are taken as profound and most as ordinary.

Ask me how things are going in a couple of months and I may be able to give you a better answer. Right now it is simply dreams of what might be!

Simple Gifts That Run Deep

December 23, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                            December 23, 2015

                                        

Each Christmas for the past…I don’t know…fifteen years Carol and I have said that we aren’t going to buy Christmas gifts for one another…and we do! Each Christmas I search for something special that I think she would enjoy. She has a bit of her mom in her; her mom who would give gift suggestions to her children such as a new spatula…or a used paperback mystery from the public library cast-off pile.

Each Christmas I try to be sneaky and hide a few present that I’ve purchased for Carol. Unfortunately, my memory of where I hid them is not spot on. I’m still missing something I bought for her three Christmases ago. It’s hiding someplace in the house. I don’t even remember what it was I got for her, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t edible.

Each Christmas our trash cans get filled with wrapping paper and packaging contents. Grandkids commence to dancing with toy boxes, while our grown-up children discover twenty dollar bills in wrapped empty boxes of Triscuits and Cheerios.

But the gifts that mean the most at Christmas never come with a price tag. The best gifts aren’t secured during an early morning dash on Black Friday with a crowd of crazed consumers. The gifts that run deep within us are those moments when a hug is shared, a story is told, and a family prayer is said.

For me the simple gifts that run deep will include the discovery of Christmas by our nine-month old granddaughter. As her older brother and sister jump around in hyper-giddiness she will watch and begin to get a sense that Christmas is a special time.

A simple gift for me will be to see a young family with a two-week old daughter, plus her older brother and sister, light the advent candle during the Christmas Eve service. A little while later, after carols have been sung and scriptures read, a simple gift will be the singing by candlelight of “Silent Night” by the gathered worshipers. It is a few moments of calm and peace that hush the chatter in my soul.

A simple gift will be the voice of my 87 year old father that I will ring up on Christmas Day. It gently nudges the sadness within me that comes from being several states away. I will be blessed by his chuckles as he shares the recent stories of happenings in his senior living complex. Any relationship is a simple gift. A visit with my dad is like a drink of the deep water from my Papaw Helton’s well- renewing and quenching.

Finally, the last simple gift of Christmas Day will be when I lay my head down on the pillow that night and know…because I know…that I have been blessed.

The Deaths of Two

December 22, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                     December 21, 2015

                                           

This past week has been a time of death. That may sound morbid and dark, but it is the reality of the blessing of lives lived and dreams unfinished.

One death was of our church’s former pastor, a man who impacted many lives and dealt with a number of health difficulties, although the seeds for his death may have come as a result of an accident a few months ago. Regardless, death came… and took… and left confusion behind. Grandchildren were left wondering. Friends recalled shared events, conversations had, camping trips taken.

There was sadness, and yet understanding.

The second death was of a sixteen year old young man. It was most unexpected and hard to accept. Death does not discriminate between ages. Although it mostly accompanies the elderly to the next life, sometimes it chooses a different partner that takes the breath away from those left behind.

Death seems to be especially hard at Christmas time, and, unfortunately, more frequent. Our own family views Christmas a little differently now since my father-in-law passed away on Christmas Day nine years ago. In the midst of our kids and grandkids and son-in-laws there is still a whisper of loss as we remember Christmases past.

The family of the sixteen year old are being supported by numerous friends and family as they walk through this, but there are deep wounds inside them that will take lifetimes to heal. Death is like that. It comes and stays. Even when we try to shove it into the attics of our memories it knocks on the ceilings of our hearts to remind us that something…or someone is missing.

The walk through the valley that is overshadowed by death (Psalm 23:4) takes on new meaning as people struggle on.

Our hope is in the last part of Psalm 23:4. “I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.” 

Although very few of us are comfortable with death, we can take comfort in knowing who walks with us.

Bellying Up To God

December 16, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  December 15, 2015

                                         

The group of senior folk sat around tables, enjoying the warmth of the room and fellowship. The study of the scripture passage had included a high amount of discussion and viewpoints. The cookies had long ago disappeared and coffee cups were empty. It was time to share prayer concerns…who was having a tough time, who was under the weather, who was on their way to full recovery.

A gentle ninety-something lady softly asked if she could take a minute to share a concern. Everyone knew that a heartache was about to be expressed. It was the day after fourteen people had been gunned down in San Bernardino, California…and less than a week since the shootings of three people in Colorado Springs.

There was a silence that fell upon the group. She began.

“I’m so upset by what is happening in our world. What is going on? It seems that there’s a mass shooting about every day…and I think we need to do something about it.”

“What are you thinking?” asked the group leader.

“I think we need to belly up to God! We need to get down on our knees and cry out to him.”

Twenty heads around the tables nodded. “Belly up to God”, the phrase seemed bold and urgent. Tragedy has a way of bringing courage bubbling to the surface. It resonated in the troubled wrinkled faces of each of the people.

There was a moment of pause and then the group went to prayer, praying with a sense of closeness to the throne of grace, praying with confused minds but trusting spirits. The confusion wasn’t with the One, but with the hostility that had seemed to come and take residence in the actions of people towards others that they didn’t even know.

The group bellied up to God in divine belief. The prayer time ended and they hugged and encouraged one another as they exited.

“Why” still echoed through them, but they believed that the answers could only be understood through the Almighty. Some questions would never be answered satisfactorily, but they knew He had heard their hearts.

Peace of Mind or Pieces of Our Mind

December 14, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  December 14, 2015

                                 

There’s a difference between “peace of mind” and “giving someone a piece of your mind.” The first can come to a person as a gift from God. The second comes from a person who isn’t afraid to hold back their rage and discontent.

The shepherds received peace of mind. King Herod wanted to express a piece of his mind to the exited Magi. Jesus came as the Prince of Peace, but was subjected to pieces of the minds of Pharisees and religious leaders.

In our churches today there is a growing urgency to surrender our agendas, conflicts, and unrest, and allow the peace of God to embrace the people of God.

Peace of God? Piece of someone’s mind? Peace that surpasses all understanding?

When someone chooses to give a piece of their mind the Body of Christ needs to identify it for what it is…someone’s personal agenda…someone’s pet peeve…someone’s perceived truth derived from rumor…someone’s bitterness manifested.

When the peace of God is evident a calmness descends upon the journeyers. There is an assuredness that God is guiding and creating a way that will one day is evident.

When someone gives a piece of their mind there are usually pieces that need to be picked up afterwards. When there is peace of mind the awesomeness of God begins to be realized.

Norma’s Shoes

December 7, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                   December 7, 2015

                                                     

   

Norma Koch was a person of faith…perhaps courageous faith might be the better description. She believed in a Jesus that was not weak and, therefore, she was not to approach her walk with him in a weak way!

A couple of years ago the social worker at Audubon School, down the street from our church, called to say that there was a boy at the school who needed a new pair of shoes. The young lad had a pair of shoes that were literally held together with duct tape. The tape was wrapped around and around each of the shoes to keep them from falling apart. Our church bought him a new pair. A young kid’s feet were singing hallelujah!

That child’s need struck deep within Norma’s heart. The senior living complex she resided in would play Bingo once or twice a week and there were actually “cash winnings!” A quarter here, fifty cents there! Norma began collecting her winnings in a jar with a mission. The mission was to collect the change until there was enough to buy a new pair of shoes for the next child in need.

This past July she turned the money in, and it was deposited into out church’s benevolence fund until the need arose to use it.

And then Norma passed away! Ninety years old…ready to meet the Jesus she followed face-to-face, ready to be done with the aches and pains that had accompanied her for so long. She passed…and entered!

About six weeks after her passing Audubon School called again. A first grade girl was in dire need of a new pair of shoes. Norma’s shoes got bought. A little girl is now wearing “Dora the Explorer” shoes…all sparkly and new on her feet.

Though she is dancing in glory Norma Koch continues to have an impact in this life.

Enjoying Senior Moments

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!

Hope

November 30, 2015

 

“Zechariah asked the angel, ‘How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years.’” (Luke 1:18)

It is much easier to doubt than it is to hope. Doubt takes little effort. It comes like the incoming tide of an ocean shore…wave after wave inching its way up the sand…changing the configuration of our thoughts. Hope takes invested commitment.

Doubt pushes its way into our visions of the future. What will God do during this time? Doubt detours around God and muddies our journey. What new directions will God take us in? Doubt stubbornly roots itself in the stiffness of the present. What better things does God have for us as we journey through our life with him? Doubt sees no good, no possible renewal.

When we allow hope to rise we step into the certainty of God’s promise. We step out of our Zechariah moment and into the delight of Elizabeth’s new hope.

Some folk in our churches have to be nurtured out of doubt. There may need to be some people who walk alongside them and usher them towards hope. “Zechariahs” take a little longer to arrive at hope. Sometimes it takes a little more persuasion…a tied tongue for a while…for someone to discover the assuredness of God’s promise.

Let hope arise! Let hope arise! Let us be able to see the hope and excitement of Elizabeth’s words: “The Lord has done this for me!” (Luke 1:25a)

Running…to God

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.