Archive for the ‘Story’ category

Praying Long

September 5, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                September 5, 2012

 

Old friends of ours from our early days in Michigan are in the midst of a very difficult journey. Dan Paternoster was hit by a car as he was cycling to his veterinarian clinic about a week ago. Dan was one of the men who help Carol and me move from Davison to Lansing, Michigan back in September of 1980, where I started my position as associate pastor of Lansing First Baptist Church. I remember him and Chuck Walls lugging our couch and furniture on to the U-Haul truck. It was the beginning of four great years as a “green pastor” learning what ministry really is, as opposed to what they had said in seminary.

Dan and his wife Nancy went on the mission field with Sudan Interior Mission in the country of Niger, following in the footsteps of his parents who served with SIM. After returning to the states he and his family settled in a small community east of Lansing where they serve the people in numerous ways. He has been a steady and strong follower of Jesus.

The recovery process for Dan will be long…and long. No one is saying how long, but the end is not in sight yet. I notice on Facebook that there are a multitude of postings to let Nancy know that people are praying.

Recent times have given us several examples of situations and people that will require long-term recovery. There is a group here in Colorado Springs that I’ve become associated with called the Waldo Canyon Long Term Recovery Group. It is going to take a long time to recover from the devastating fire that we actually watched from where we live, even though it was about ten miles away.

Dan’s recovery will be trying and painful, without a doubt punctuated by quitting points. It will take much prayer.

It will take praying long.

I think of the Biblical character of Simeon, In Luke 2 it says, “He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.” (Luke 2:25b-26)

Simeon was into praying long. As long as it took!

In our culture of instant access of knowledge, answers, and solutions, praying long seems like a bad cough that we can’t shake. It’s not seen as a good thing, but rather an interrupter. Our thinking too often is “if it doesn’t happen fast it must not be of God.”

Our Creator not only created instant, but he also created the desert. Deserts are long, and dry, and demand perseverance. An “instant” demands only a momentary commitment.

There will be numerous people praying with Dan, and for Dan, supporting Nancy. Praying long sometimes separates the superficial from the faithful, the weeds from the wheat.

Lord, may Dan and Nancy know that this day has been one more step. May the step be firm and faith-filled, and may the encouraging whisper of your voice be within their hearing!”

Springing Hope

September 4, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                              September 4, 2012

Carol and I went to see “Hope Springs” last night. I saw a couple of aunts and uncles from my past in it. It was amusing…and too close to home! It made me ask the uncomfortable question “Is that us?”

If you haven’t seen the movie it is about a couple who have been married for 31 years. They have become…predictable…and emotionally distant even though they live in the same house. It’s the residue of time and routine that have swallowed up their love. The love is there, but it takes an incredible amount of guided effort to rediscover it.

Enough of the plot. I chuckled a lot during the film because I saw people that have been a part of my journey and upraising, but also I saw myself.

There are weeks that come and go as unsurprising as a farm tractor cultivating a corn field row by row. A surprise might be brussel sprouts at dinner, or, this year, a cool day in the summer.

But…I have to say this…there is also some comfort in the predictability. It is comforting to know that some things don’t change. Carol tells me that my color selection in what I’m wearing is not good. She also knows that Saturday nights are usually restricted times as I struggle with finishing up the Sunday sermon. I know that she enjoys playing “Spades” on-line. A pause in a phone conversation with her is a hint that she is in the midst of a tight game. She knows that I snore and has the freedom to kick me in the middle of the night. Bruises on my body are not a sign of spousal abuse, but rather a night of deep sleep and kicks with more effort behind them. One of us often ends up in the middle bedroom because of restlessness, snoring, intestinal issues, back pain, or trying to finish a book before sleep enters the picture. I am moved by how she engages and cares for kids. She is thrilled by former players that I’ve coached who come up to me in a store, or on the street, and initiate a conversation.

There is a routine in our lives that is good, even as we search for new opportunities. This summer we took a two day vacation. I know…I know…two days…ooo, big spender! But it was a great two days. We went to Vail and just relaxed, walked, explored, rested, ate, slept. Two days was too short, but it was good!

And then it was back to our routine.

We have a good life, a blessed life! It is filled with random moments of the touch of God, the soothing of our souls.

It’s things like our grand-daughter, Reagan, chasing our frazzled cat, Princess Malibu, around the house like a greased watermelon that is never quiet in the grasp. It’s taking Carol with me whenever I have clothes to buy, or never questioning the hint of going with her because dress shirts are on sale at Dilliards’s. It’s being comfortable with the fact that “if it’s cooked on the grill” it’s my job, and if it’s cooked in the oven it’s her domain. It’s helping her step down from the terraced garden in our backyard. It’s telling her what is going on in a ball game because her eyesight is not good.

I suppose you could say that there is a rhythm in our routine, a sense of feeling so fortunate in the midst of all the ways we have been blessed.

I know that I am not James Bond, but I also want to be a little bit to the left of my dearly departed Uncle Milliard.

A little adventure while I stand watering the front yard.

Tonight I’m going to take my bride of thirty-three years for a walk.

Maybe we’ll even hold hands…as we’re in the crosswalk!

Pastor As Visitor

September 3, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                    September 3, 2012

I finished the first week of a two week study leave yesterday. One of the weird things about being on a study leave is that I’m supposed to keep my distance from my congregation. My spiritual shepherds have told me that, and I’ve tried to adhere to it as much as I can, but it’s difficult. (Although I’m sitting in my office at church as I write this since it’s Labor Day and the building is quiet today.)

Yesterday I went to the early service of a large Presbyterian church here in town. One of the things I look to do on the few Sundays I’m not worshiping in my congregation is to worship in other churches, to be able to receive, as well as evaluate, from other pastors and bodies of believers. Since I pastor a small congregation I have to always keep in mind that mega-church life is not who we are, or who we will be. But in the midst of that realization that things in Jerusalem are different than things in Nazareth there are hints of the same story being written.

Ninety-five percent of small church pastors would probably tell you that they would like to pastor a mega-church. I think the percentage of mega-church pastors who would like to pastor a mega-church might be somewhat less than that. As they say, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence…but cows on both sides leave dung!

I slipped into the next to last row…like a typical Baptist…and surveyed the congregation. The early service at this church was a mostly senior crowd- the kind that will stampede Village Inn for breakfast right after church. The choir was magnificent…a hundred strong! They were accompanied by a piano, bass guitar, trumpet, trombone, and percussion. During the service they led the congregation in the singing of four praise choruses and two hymns. On one of the praise choruses they managed to get the congregation to join in clapping in rhythm for almost twenty seconds before hands once again dropped and the choir left it alone.

It was a familiar scene.

The Senior Pastor did the children’s story. Being a senior crowd he had about a dozen kids up front for it out of the eight hundred or so present. Once again, it was a familiar scene. He had one young boy who was always on the verge of breaking out of the corral, ready to take center stage. The pastor, being a pretty perceptive guy, was always one step ahead of him. It taught me something. There are some children’s stories I do where it seems like I’ve got the rope on the steer, but am being dragged behind trying to get control.

One of the associate pastors read the gospel reading for the morning and in referring to Jesus going out into the desert for forty days misread Mark 1:13. He switched two words that gave it a much different meaning. “He (Jesus) was with the wild angels, and animals attended him.”

Since the scripture was being projected on the front walls people snickered a little bit at his mistake.

It was  a familiar scene. It brought back memories of when I was a seminary student on staff at a large Presbyterian church in the Chicago area. One Sunday I was assisting in the worship service and mixed up two things during the prayer time. “And we celebrate with Kathy Smith on the death of her mother!”

If you want to get people’s attention just majorly screw up!

The Senior Pastor had an excellent message talking about John the Baptist. The service was being streamed into a few retirement facilities around the area, plus, for some reason, a place in Minnesota. About two-thirds of the way through the message the cell phone of the eighty year old lady sitting three feet away from me started ringing in her purse. She reacted quickly, picking up her purse, unzipping it, sorting through a multitude of items inside until she found the cell phone. But instead of hitting mute, or turning it off, she proceeded to answer it and have a two minute conversation. After an uncomfortable two minutes- during which time I missed the pastor’s second sermon point- she finally said, “Well, Mabel, I’m in church…”

It was a familiar scene.

What I took away from the experience was a great message (what I heard) from the pastor, a well-crafted order of worship, a congregation that is serving the city in significant ways, and a time to reflect, renew, and receive.

Every church, small and large, has it’s warts and it’s beauty marks. Jesus doesn’t look for perfection in performance, but rather authenticity in our yearning for the presence of God.

Persistent Pray-ers and Adult Whiners

August 31, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                      August 31, 2012

 

And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘Grant me justice against my adversary.’”  (Luke 18:3, NIV)

 

Recently I was on the sidelines for a game that my middle school football team was playing. This year we have fifty boys on the seventh grade team, and, as I stated in an earlier posting, I made the decision to dress all the players for our games. We needed an extended bus to get them all to the field!

One boy, who I will call Sonny, is not a very good player, but he is a persistent player! He persistently followed me up and down the sideline the whole game. His persistent following was accompanied by persistent talking. It would sound something like this:

Coach, do you want me to play outside linebacker next time?”

Coach, I can go in.”

Coach, I can play inside linebacker.”

Coach, if is okay if I go in the next time we’re on defense?”

Coach, I’m right here whenever you need me.”

He was driving me crazy! I would have to call out the names of other boys on the team- “Wilson…Wilson…Wilson…go in for Jones at safety.” But I never had to yell for Sonny…because Sonny was always there.

Finally I gave in! “Sonny, go in for Smith at Outside Linebacker.” I got a few moments of peace and quiet for the couple of plays that Sonny was in.

I admired his persistence even though it was a little irritating.

Contrast that with a recent basketball officiating assignment I had at the fitness center less than a mile from our house. I’ve been blowing the whistle there about two nights each month during this basketball off-season. The league that I officiate for I refer to in less than affectionate terms as The Adult Whiners League.”

There are a number of really good guys in the league, but there are also the ones that I would like to post pictures of on the post office wall. Some of them used to be great players…emphasize used to be! They still remember what their bodies have long forgotten. They still dream of the slam dunk they had in high school as they now stay earth-bound.

And guess what? They bring their level of play down to an even lower notch with consistent whining. Whereas a persistent twelve year old football player can get me to give in, a thirty-five year old overweight balding man in Nike shoes and slumping tattoos, does not get my sympathy. In fact, at best he gets a deaf ear, and at worst my two hands coming together in the shape of the letter “t”.

I thought about the contrast this week. When we pray do we whine to God about the unfairness of life, or do you beseech his mercy?

When we pray do we demand that he see it our way, or do ask him to help us in the midst of a difficult period in our life?

Persistently praying or consistently whining?

58 and Cute!

August 30, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                        August 30, 2012

 

58 and Cute!”

 

I had an interesting experience yesterday. I was in the speedy-no time to waste-self-checkout at King Soopers. As I was scanning my items an elderly lady who had been at the self-checkout right behind me finished her order and was starting to exit, but she stopped and touched me on the arm and said “You’re cute!”

Yes, she was in her late seventies, probably about five fingers away from my mom and dad, who are both 84.

I smiled at her and replied, “Thank you! I guess it’s not often that a fifty-eight year old gets told he’s cute!”

Well, you are! I know! I had five sons, and you’re cute!”

Okay! I’ll admit it! It pretty much made my day. Now…I have to give some of the credit to my oldest daughter, Kecia, because I was wearing the dress shirt that she had bought me for my birthday.

I had just come from the funeral of one of our neighbors, so a comment such as that lifted my spirits.

Two words. Isn’t it amazing how two words from a senior citizen at just the right moment can turn around a day?       The reality, however, is that the balance of two word comments are either negative in tone, or meaningless in content.

Love you!” gets outdone by “Hate you!” or some other verb in front of “you!”

Our word selection can bring hope or divide and separate. With the same tongue we praise God and curse men. (James 3:9) With the same tongue we affirm and defeat.

One disclaimer! I walked into Starbucks this morning and got a cup of coffee (Not unusual. In fact, I’m sitting in Starbucks right now drinking the coffee and listening to Spotify.) The employee preparing drinks asked me, “How is your day going?” I replied “Pretty good! How about yours?”

But by the tenth person in a row she asked the question to I realized she was following “the party line.” The answer to her question wasn’t really what she was looking for. She was seeking a quota. How many customers can I say this to?

That’s not all bad, except when you have the impression she wants to know how your day is going and then you find out she really doesn’t…it’s just a little too “fakey!”

Genuineness in our words puts a fragrance within them!

Meanwhile, if a sweet elderly lady comes up to you and tells you that you’re cute…I don’t want to know about it. I’ve whether live in the fantasy world, at least for a while, that I’m the only one.

Jesus Fan

August 29, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                              August 29, 2012

 

Thanks to a local funeral home we now have “Jesus Fans” in our sanctuary! No, not the ceiling fan variety; I’m talking about the fan that has a picture of Jesus standing in front of the open tomb on one side, and the name of the funeral home on the other side with a long wooden paint stir stick in the middle.

The kind that was popular back when I was in my pre-teens in the un-airconditioned Baptist churches of eastern Kentucky. Everyone needed a fan in July and August because of the Sunday morning humidity that left you always wondering “Is it the Spirit or the humidity that is bringing upon me this rise in body temperature.

Most of the time it was the humidity! Thus, Jesus commenced to waving. On the hand fan one of his hands was in the air like he was greeting someone. It made the waving part of the fan that much more relevant.

Some Sundays the Jesus Fans were the only thing moving in the church. Jesus Fans could be non-verbal indicators of what was happening during the pastor’s message. When the fans went to warp speed it was a sign that there was going to be a lot of discussion and dialogue after the benediction. Fans working at increased speed usually meant the pastor had offended someone, or that he had touched on an area that was bringing the waver under conviction. It happened, however, to usually be someone who didn’t like being brought under conviction.

Hot and bothered would describe them. They might show up at the Presbyterian Church the next Sunday. The Presbyterians didn’t have much conviction, but they did have ceiling fans.

A fan that was on “slowing speed” was a sign to the perceptive preacher that he was losing them. The Sunday afternoon nap might be coming sooner if he didn’t pick up the pace. A guest speaker with a slow delivery in August was no match for a congregation of farmers who had been at it all week. A waving Jesus was always better than a Jesus who was starting to look as ambitious as Junior on “Hee Haw!”

Back in those days “Jesus Fans” weren’t just for women having hot flashes. Everyone had “hot constants!” We were consistently hot.

So now we have air conditioned sanctuaries and everyone can cool together. Jesus Fans seemed to raise the connectedness between pastor and congregation. They seemed to help people engage in worship more. I even think there were more “amens” when Jesus was in the midst of his waving. And, without a doubt, when you had Jesus right in front of you it made you a little more God-fearing. Having the name of the local funeral home staring you in the face was also a motivator.

Brown’s Funeral Home. We have a casket for you!”

Cremation wasn’t a big seller back in those days. When you are burning up every Sunday being laid down in the cool ground is a little more appealing.

I think I’m going to turn up the A/C temperature in our sanctuary this Sunday and put a couple of Jesus Fans in each pew rack.

Let the Spirit move…and Jesus wave!

Amen! Yes…But!

August 13, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                    August 12, 2012

 

I recently read Eugene Person’s memoirs entitled The Pastor. In the midst of it he tells a story about his daughter asking what “amen” meant. The family said it at the end of the dinner grace, so her curiosity could not contain her “amen compliance.” Her pastor father told her it was like saying “Yes” at the end of what had been said in the prayer. Naturally her next question was why they didn’t just say yes? That started a new tradition in the Peterson household, and somewhat in their church family. At the end of the prayer they began punctuating the end by saying “Amen! Yes!”

At a basketball officiating camp I attend each year the camp director begins each camp with introductions and procedures. At almost every camp he tells a room full of aspiring whistle-blowers to receive the instruction from the camp clinicians, and to take the criticisms and suggestions for what they are worth.

And then he says, “What we don’t want is ‘Yes, buts!’”

His point is that we are there to get better, not to question the evaluations and tips of the people who are there to help us. Every camp, however, there is at least one knucklehead who wants to argue.

Yes…but!”

Many of us live spiritual journeys that are littered with “Yes…buts!” They come in different forms. Sometimes they come after we have heard of a promise of God from his Word. We hear the promise, we hear the hope, the proclamation, and we say “Amen! Yes…but…”

The “but” is seldom uttered after the amen, but it thunders from our life. I see many a believer who says he believes in grace, yet lives under the law. That’s a “yes…but” story in the making!

There are also those who identify themselves as Christians, but treat parts of the Christian walk as either antiquated or no longer relevant. Perhaps they see themselves as progressive believers forging a new path. Call it what you will, the smell of the “yes…but” is close at hand. (Maybe I shouldn’t have used the term “the smell of the yes but.”)

I recognize I use the same words in my life. Guilty as charged! Many weeks I hear the Spirit speaking encouragement to me. I sense the whisper of hope as I take another step in my journey as a pastor, a shepherd. And I am prone to inject a few “Amen! Yes…buts” into my response.

We practiced this morning in the midst of the flock. We echoed “Amen! Yes!” at the end of each prayer, and scripture reading. We withstood the temptation to add the “but.” We practiced hope and proclamation in prep time for a week that will surely challenge most of us.

We’re journeying towards a place, a point where we will wholeheartedly shout “Amen! Yes…Yes…Yes!”

Doubting Worship

August 8, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                        July 31, 2012

 

I find myself reading The Message paraphrase of the Bible more and more. I’m amazed at how a passage that I’ve read over and over again will suddenly take on a new meaning when I read it in The Message. One of the passages that hit me recently was Matthew 28:16-17. Here’s how it reads:

Meanwhile, the eleven disciples were on their way to Galilee, headed for the mountain Jesus had set for their reunion. The moment they saw him they worshiped him. Some, though, held back, not sure about worship, about risking themselves totally.”  (Matthew 28:16-17)

Of course, the next verse is the Great Commissioning of Jesus of the disciples.

…not sure about worship, about risking themselves totally.”

If the disciples, who experienced the risen Lord, weren’t sure about totally risking their lives, it seems that I don’t have to have all the “t’s” crossed and “i’s” dotted before I proceed in my faith journey.    I have been freed from having to have all the answers. I’ve been freed from having to do all the work myself. I’ve even been freed from having to be completely sold out to the Lord…body, soul, and mind!

Many may argue that point. It is either all in or all out. It seems, however, that we ridicule the doubts  of many to the point that they submit to the Lord out of guilt. I recognize that there are pivotal decision points where we choose to acknowledge Jesus as Lord or deny we ever knew him. As time proceeds on there may be more than a few of us who will face a life or death choice that is connected to that proclamation or denial.

While we are between the “here” (our commitment to being one of his followers) and the “there”   (that point of standing with him or standing against him) however, there is a lot of…uncertainty. There is a tremendous amount of wavering.

It’s interesting to me that the doubting followers of Jesus in these verses are never identified. We might guess that one was Thomas, but Thomas’s doubt displayed in the Gospel of John was tied to his not being present when Jesus first appeared to the other disciples.

Some doubted…but they were all his disciples.

Jesus knew of the sense of reluctance of his closest followers, and yet he gave them the commission. Wait a minute! Jesus knew that there wasn’t total buy-in and yet he still imparted…delegated…the greatest commission that the church has ever been given ownership to!

If it was anyone else we might be inclined to say “What was he thinking?”

The Great Commissioning after the half-hearted willingness to risk may be an indication of the grace of God evidenced. It’s is somewhat comforting to know that Jesus didn’t ask the disciples to sign a contract before he gave them the commission. He didn’t ask for a franchise fee. He gave them a command…these followers who were all at different places on their journeys.

The longer I’m in the ministry as a pastor of a flock the more it seems that the journey of faith is more about the questions, the apprehensions, the fears, and the doubts, and less about the answers.

Strange, but that is peacefully unsettling!

The Confusion of Language

July 30, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                July 30, 2012

The Confusion of Language”

Carol and I are hosting two twelve year old Chinese boys for a week. It’s an organization that matches up host families with the students who are in our area to study the English language, as well as experience American culture. The experience has been…an experience! The boys are very polite, and to help us they’ve been given American names while they are here. Thus, we are hosting “Alan” and “Andy.” Those names are a far cry from their real Chinese names.

Quite often I’ll say something to them, and the response I receive is two confused looks. For instance, how do you explain to a twelve year old Chinese boy that we are having a garage sale? How do you explain garage sales anyway?

How do you explain “Sonic Drive-Ins?” How do you explain “grits?”

How do you explain worship to boys who aren’t familiar with the concept? Since they are learning English the sermon slides on the screen in the front of the sanctuary are a little…advanced! I’m saying one thing, plus the words on the screen are saying something else.

If I was a 58 year old in a Chinese marketplace I might run for my life!

So Carol and I took the easy way out last night. We took them to a Chinese restaurant where the owner speaks Chinese. They had a great conversation. We felt temporarily relieved. The owner did share with us that the boys wanted more rice. I said, “Great! Bring them another bowl!” She replied, “No, I mean they want more rice…everyday!” We quickly scratched mashed potatoes off the dinner menu for the next night and penciled in rice.

I offered yogurt to them for breakfast and they curled up their noses like I was offering possum. Of course, Carol also frowns at me if I offer her yogurt.

We also discovered an app for our iPhones where we can speak a sentence in English and then it will be translated into the written Chinese language. We show the translation to them and are greeted with nods and replies.

So many challenges, so many stories in the making.

It has made me think about my own prayer language. Although I pray there are times in my journey where I tend to think that others will do it. Kind of like yielding the owner of the restaurant to do the conversing…it just seems like it’s the responsibility of someone else. Or perhaps, someone else can do it better so I willingly hand off the duty.

Also, although God knows exactly what I’m saying to him, there are a multitude of times where he is speaking to me, but I’m not hearing him. I’m just not getting it! Sometimes I just don’t want to get it! It’s easier to remain confused! It’s more convenient to only hear certain things being said, to stay within certain language boundaries.

So I’m thankful for Andy and Alan. They’ve taught me a lot even though quite often we miss the connection.

A Summer to Forget…or Remember

July 25, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  July 25, 2012

 

“The Summer of 12”! The usual squeals of kids splashing in pools, vacationing families touring the sites, and trips to the ice cream shop have been replaced this summer with drought conditions, out-of-control fires, and mass murder.

About six weeks ago we shook our heads in sympathy for the people of Fort Collins as their area dealt with the fires, only to have the nation with their eyes on Colorado Springs a couple of weeks later. Just as we grieved the Waldo Canyon fire the shootings in Aurora took us into another period of gasping and wondering.

Many would say that it is a summer to forget, but perhaps it is more a summer to remember. In Colorado Springs there has been a coming together in many ways of the community. Tomorrow I’ll go to the weekly meeting of the Waldo Canyon Long Term Recovery Team. About 75 people from various churches, organizations, and agencies have been meeting weekly for the past month talking through the recovery process. I’m in one of the sub-groups that is dealing with clean-up. There is a linking of hands and efforts to bring healing to a city. The harsh reality is that it sometimes takes a catastrophe to get people to work together. Such is the case with The Springs.

As we look back at it then, this summer may be one that will remembered for something of God rising our of the ashes, and something good coming out of the bad in Aurora.

Joseph saw God’s hand in the midst of his brother’s treachery and hatred. He saw that the long range plan of God included his trip to a pit and a place that would have been described as being “the pits.” He saw that what his brothers meant for bad, God meant for good.

That’s a hard thing to say in our culture where we often are bitter is everything isn’t completely peachy-keen! Our love and devotion to God is mostly tied to how much he’s blessing us!

But the Bible has a few of those other books in it…like Lamentations. When was the last time you heard a verse from Lamentations read as a part of praise worship?

Or Ecclesiastes…unless it was as a a part of a funeral (“There is a time and a season for everything…”)?

The trials and tragedies of “12” have the potential to draw us close to the one who stays with us through the tears and the laughter.

Let’s pray that’s the direction we head into.