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Finishing Well

May 11, 2024

It’s May. A few days ago, I advanced the number roller of my tens column from 6 to 7. That means a lot of things, like having people look at my driver’s license and then giving me a sympathetic look…as if I have one foot in the grave and the other with curved arthritic toes. Or like yesterday when I played dodgeball with sixth-graders and this morning, as I trudged down the stairs, my knees and back are asking in a physical whining sort of way, “Why did you do that?”

Hitting 70 means, optimistically, that I may have 20 years of birthday celebrations left—maybe more, maybe less! Using that calculation, it means my battery is down to 28%.

More importantly, it causes me to consider how to finish well. How does a person finish well? At our final middle school track meet this week, one of our sprinters stopped running hard ten yards from the finish line. As a result of not finishing well, she went from second to fifth. The coaches and many of her teammates will remember her not for the first 190 meters but rather for the last 10. On the opposite side, another one of our runners slipped on the wet track at the starting line, recovered, and finished in a blaze, winning by five meters in the league championship 200-meter race. He will be remembered for how he recovered from adversity and finished strong.

I’ve been blessed to know people who don’t coast or give up but strongly believe that God has purposes for their lives. They live life with that viewpoint—no whining, no bemoaning about what is and what could have been. They are partners in the Master’s Plan.

Truth be told, as we go through this life journey, we get dinged up like a 59 Chevy. The hurts and hits of life slow us down, bring doubts into our minds, and cause us to wonder about our resilience and abilities. The grey replaces the brown, the wrinkles overshadow the grace, and our physical limitations supersede our expectations. And yet, the wisdom gained through our life experiences is a precious gift that is imperative for us to share. There is soundness and substance in what has been experienced.

As 70 in one way, defines me, it causes me to consider what I principles I need to pack for the rest of the journey.

  1. Just as God considers me important enough to have a relationship with, the personal relationships I have are to be treasured and cared for.
  2. Who I am is a result of who has been part of my journey.
  3. Laugh often and bring laughter to others.
  4. Contentment doesn’t come as a result of doing or having what our culture says we should have.
  5. Each day is a gift from God. Don’t waste it.
  6. Don’t be afraid to risk…but don’t do stupid either (like jumping out of a plane!).
  7. The list of what you can do should always be longer than the list that keeps saying you can’t do.
  8. Pray for your kids and grandkids, and hopefully your great-grandkids!
  9. Fill your life with simplicity, like watching The Andy Griffith Show, taking long walks, and reading books that warm your souls.
  10. Finally, hang out with middle schoolers and even play dodgeball with them, with the understanding that in doing so you make a big target. It brings delight to them!

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Fears and Forts

April 28, 2024

 “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!”  After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.” (John 20:19-20)

When I was a kid, wet snowstorms were a gift from God. Give us six or more inches of the heavy, wet stuff, and we’d be outside building a snowman with a huge lower rolled-up body and diminishing features as you sculpted up from there. Snowstorms also meant at least two snow forts, separated by the imaginary Ohio River or a battle-scarred front yard. We packed the snow together to create firm foundations, solid and resembling medieval castles, and then we’d go higher and higher. Our purpose: to protect us from the snowballs that would be seeking unprotected targets. Getting hit by a snowball meant someone was losing, so we built our walls solid and imposing. It wasn’t uncommon for all the snow in the front yard to be gathered into the snow forts, leaving behind shivering blades of grass.

And then we would hide behind the wall, unwilling to stick our heads up and take a look. Our fear about what was outside our fort was greater than our desire to look beyond our wall. And yet, if we didn’t risk looking, we’d never know what was actually happening. Even worse, if neither snow fort person was willing to risk, we’d sit behind our walls, protected from the outside but not fulfilling our purpose.

That was a playful time for us. A more serious experience from the Bible comes with Jesus’s disciples after he has been crucified. They gather together in a room, some say the Upper Room, and lock the door. They’re afraid of what could be outside. They fear that those who were behind the crucifixion of Jesus are hunting for them. We’ll never know how long they would have been willing to stay locked up behind those walls since Jesus came and stood with them. If He had not come, the story would have been written in a depressing sort of way. Fear would have won, and faith would have been trivialized.

But he did come, and come into their midst! His presence resulted in the disciples risking their lives, laughing in the face of danger, and engaging with the culture of the times. Faith melts the walls away and guides us into areas that faith-less people fear. It allows us to enter into conversations with those who we have been told are different than us, not hide behind the walls of our close-mindedness.

How often does it seem that followers of Jesus are looking for victory instead of dialogue? Victory means I’ve hidden behind my wall until the exact moment my perceived enemy becomes vulnerable. It’s the direct punch that causes me to feel superior.

The thing is, being a follower of Jesus means He has already claimed the ultimate victory. Being a follower doesn’t mean I need to throw another punch. Being a follower simply means I’m to be faithful. Being faithful means my fears can be cast upon Him, and I no longer need to hide.

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Taking Christian Sides

April 20, 2024

Recently, a speaker at a church gathering made the statement in his address that a person couldn’t be a Christian and vote Democrat. He was adamant about that position in front of a crowd that was probably very lean in the number of Democrats present.

I cringed when I saw the video clip of it. It was a blanket statement, kinda like saying all public schools are demonic or moms who work outside of the home don’t make their kids a priority. In my growing-up days, people who drank beer were looked upon with suspicion by the teetotalers of our Baptist church. How could they drink Iron City beer on Saturday and come to church on Sunday?

We have a way of taking Christian sides, structuring our understanding of what a Christian looks like, and creating a long list of limitations on what isn’t acceptable. In essence, there’s a tendency to limit “who is in” instead of deferring to God’s grace. Like the private entrance to an exclusive club, it has become more the norm to admit only the sanitized rather than believe in a gospel where the doors are thrust wide open.

When asked to preach at a church that required everyone to use the King James Version of the Bible, seminary professor Dr. Al Bean would bring a bible with him that was in Greek and read the passage in the original Greek language. Consequently, he was never invited back to speak at the KJV congregations. He was viewed as having a rebellious spirit.

There is confusion in the Christian ranks over striving for a “sacred throng” versus creating an impenetrable fortress. We forget that the early followers of Jesus were a hodgepodge of outcasts and uninvited commoners, with a few well-to-do and greatly despised mixed in. The common thread, the unifying glue that brought them all together, was Jesus. His followers were as different as night and day, as different as a New York Democrat and a Texas Republican…as different as a corporate lawyer and a supermarket bagboy, but Jesus was the glue.

There is an increasing tendency these days to pull apart instead of holding together. What so often is held onto with a firm grip are the things and ideas that are way down the list in actual importance, while the most important, the things of eternal significance, get shoved out the door.

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Back Issues

April 11, 2024

“Even so, the body is not made up of one part but of many.” (1 Corinthians 12:14)

I have the mind of an 18-year-old but the back of a 70-year-old. Translated, that means I can do just about anything…run a marathon, climb Pike’s Peak, build a house…in my mind! In reality, I now can only run a marathon or climb Pike’s Peak if there happened to be a video game or a game app that would have features such as those things.

I could never build a house in any universe, regardless of my youthful mind.

Backs are touchy. They affect everything else that’s happening to you. The first thing in the morning, a back is like a wake-up call as you roll out of bed, reminding you that it’s still attached to you like a bad teenager’s pimple. As you bend to pick up a box, it’s whispering to you, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!” As you begin to chuckle at something, Barney Fife does in an episode of The Andy Griffith Show, it pinches you back to sensibility.

When a back gets out of whack, it’s not a quick fix to return to health. And the thing is, when you favor your back, it begins to take a toll on other parts of your body that are being relied on more than normal.

It’s not a mistake that “back” rhymes with “whack” and “quack.”

Churches with back issues have a long road to recovery. To be clear, I’m not talking about the wooden pews constructed in the 1800s with an extra dose of hardness pounded into the wood. I’m talking about a church with 10% of its members carrying 80% of the load. They are the ones that a church depends upon to the point of unhealthiness. Like the workers on a moving van, after a few years they have to start wearing special back protection braces to help them keep going. In the ministry of a church, the equivalent of a back brace is something that gets them through another week of overwhelming responsibilities, such as an event, thought pattern, or practice that is totally unconnected to the heavy load of ministry.

Many of the “back people” come to a point where they realize people see them as laborers for the church instead of servants of the Lord. The realization is crushing, and causes disillusionment and exit. Instead of seeing a path back towards health, they see a potholed road that is going to continue to jar and bring hurt to their lives.

On the other hand, the church needs “backs” but healthy backs. Backs that can be depended upon but not overtaxed. Backs that can not just sit around but also should have “carry limits.” They should be the lifters, not just laborers. Too many “backs” in the church are expected to take care of things and people but are seldom cared for by the rest of the Body. And so they wear out, rupture a disc, or experience day-by-day pain.

When Paul gave us the picture of the Body of Christ functioning like the human body, it communicated important principles and wise concepts. No part of the Body of Christ is less important than any other part. And… no part should be expected to be all things.

This 70-year-old still thinks young but is now wise enough to know I can’t do “young things.”

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Making Up Words

April 7, 2024


“All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness.” (2 Timothy 3:16)

My wife says I make up words. I hate to admit it, but she’s right. For example, I’ll say “I’m as hungry as a bukie!” “What’s a bukie?” she asks. I don’t know. I don’t even know how to spell bukie, which is why my spellcheck is going inbercitous right now.

Sometimes, I can’t think of a word and I kinda estimate what it might be, like “agritentious” or “predentible.” They just flow from the tongue as authentic as organic peanut butter. I must admit that playing “Words With Friends” on my cell phone has caused me to create pseudo-words that would give me mega-points if they were real…but they aren’t. Like a contestant on “Let’s Make A Deal!” about to see what’s behind Door #3, I bite my lip as I move the last letter into place, hoping that “Z-N-A-X-Q-U-A” has found its place in Webster’s Dictionary.

But then I see one of those commercials for a new drug that is being introduced and ask myself, “How did the drug company come up with a name that only National Spelling Bee contestants can correctly pronounce and spell?”

Teaching English Language Arts in middle school the last few years has made me realize some things about words. One, more kids than not can’t spell worth beans. Two, they don’t use spellcheck. And three, they make up nonsensical words. I could write a buk…I mean, a book about it!

I find that a lot of that happens with Scripture, too. Biblical illiteracy is evident, so people make up things that sound good, words that sound like they belong. It’s the other side of the coin of the tendency to cut out from the Bible the words that aren’t liked and sound too harsh for modern man. After all, doesn’t the Word say “God helps those who help themselves?”

No, it doesn’t. I think that was Ben Franklin. But it sounds logical. It sounds like wisdom that many people have adopted for their lives.

Other folk remember half the words and then make up the rest. They know the Bible says something about getting hit in the jaw, so they finish the verse with “turn the other way before you hit again.” Or they combine verses: “If someone hits you in the cheek, do unto him as he has done unto you.”

It brings to mind Marcion, a theologian from the second century who disliked the Old Testament. He rewrote the New Testament but removed all of the Old Testament references. In essence, he made up his own version of the Bible.

There are parts of the Bible that I don’t fully understand, but they are there for a reason. For example, unclear parts of the building instructions for the new bicycle only make sense after the whole bike has been assembled. I read the Word as it is and trust in God’s sovereignty and grace. It makes more sense than the inbercitousness of “buk.”

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The Dumbfounding Rise of What We Thought We Were Better Than

April 4, 2024

At an NCAA Women’s Basketball Regional, the University of Utah team was getting pelted with so many racial slurs that they changed hotels. News reports said that the athletes feared for their safety.

What we thought we had grown past had grabbed hold of our ankles and worked its way into our lives and our language. Racism is as firmly planted in our culture today as the Celtics are planted in the Boston Garden. In the freedom of our nation, many have felt the freedom to be racists, sexists, and uncontrollably nasty.

Interestingly, this topic came to me today on the 56th anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King. It wasn’t planned that way…or maybe it was, but not by me! Dr. King paved the way for what we should have already known: Everyone has value and should be treated with respect.

Recently, at our middle school, the principal has talked to all of the students about the rise of racial slurs during the school day. Things said at a lunch table that is meant to get a reaction have done just that—a bad reaction! Many will look at those situations and think, “Kids will be kids.” Actually, Kids will be reflections of their culture. What they experience around them at home, in media, in music, and in things said in casual conversations get soaked into their minds.

We thought we were better than that. We thought we had evolved. We were wrong. One of the main ingredients in our cultural stew of chaos is racism. It pours salt in the wounds, spice into heated situations, and leaves a bad taste in the memories of those affected.

Although segregation has been outlawed, it still exists. Judgments are made based on a person’s ability, intelligence, and competence based on their skin color or background. It’s nothing new. Going back to Genesis 46, when Joseph brought his family to Egypt, he asked the Pharaoh if they could settle in the region of Goshen, “…for all shepherds are detestable to the Egyptians.” (Genesis 46:34)

The Apostle Paul made a sweeping statement in his letter to the churches in the region of Galatia. In Galatians 3:28, he said:
“There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.“

We are to see each other with equal regard. Such words, however, lost their meaning in a historical period of minimizing. As we sink deeper into the racism abyss, the meaning of the bracelet that many of us wear or wear…WWJD…What Would Jesus Do?…is clouded in a fog that leaves us guessing.

And so, a group of college women’s basketball players, 18 to 23-year-olds from a variety of backgrounds, races, and nationalities, feared for their lives even though all they were doing was eating dinner together in a restaurant.

That’s messed up!

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Separation Being a Follower of Jesus From Waving Our Flag

March 29, 2024

I’m an American Baptist.

In saying that, I must clarify what it means. American Baptists trace their roots to Roger Williams, a 17th-century Puritan minister who sensed the tension in a church-state union and established the Providence Plantation in Rhode Island. The plantation was a place where people, according to their convictions, could worship freely, a place where the freedom of religion was valued more than the mandates of the governing body.

Thus, there is confusion these days when the name of my denomination is mentioned. It is assumed that American Baptists are clothed in red, white, and blue and leaning heavily to the right side of the political pendulum. Truthfully, the American Baptist Churches, U.S.A., is about as diverse as a denomination can possibly be.

But I AM an American, firmly planted in the roots of freedom and a student of American History. In fact, I’m currently reading a lengthy biography about James Garfield. Two of my favorite books are Doris Kearns Goodwin’s Team of Rivals and The Bully Pulpit. I love our country. I recite the Pledge with my students each school day, and I take my hat off in respect and honor whenever the national anthem is sung.

In these confusing times, I am mindful of the increasing tendency to mix my spiritual freedom with my national freedom, as if they are peanut butter and jelly jammed together.

A new Bible recently introduced includes the Declaration of Independence, Bill of Rights, and Constitution within its cover. I am thankful for those incredible documents, which form the foundations of our democracy, but I am troubled by their inclusion in any copy of the holy scriptures. It’s another indication that many Americans have a hard time separating their personal walk with Jesus from their commitment to their country.

I can sense it inside church communities where people fear being ostracized for having a different view on an issue. Many communities of faith have been transformed more into resembling political caucus gatherings rather than the coming together of the faithful followers of Jesus. Amid it, the younger generation has become disgusted with the hypocrisy and has largely looked elsewhere, or not at all, for their spiritual fulfillment.

Quite frankly, the new Bible that has recently been introduced ($59.95 plus shipping and handling) seems as if it is more an attempt at gaining the support of a certain group of voters than it is in easing the biblical illiteracy of the American population.

Thus, there is an unsettling intertwining of two very different kingdoms, one not of this world and the other too much of this world. One that is better characterized as humble pie and the other more enamored with the heat rising from apple pie.

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Changing the Message

March 24, 2024

Recently, Carol and I were having dinner at an Italian restaurant. Since we had skipped lunch that day, we went for an early meal at about 4:30. The golden voice of Frank Sinatra greeted us as we followed the hostess through the dining area to the back. After the Sinatra song ended, the sound of another soothing Italian male voice echoed through the establishment, one of those vocalists that illicit romance in the hopes of the romantic. It almost caused me to order a bottle of wine, except I’m not really a wine drinker. I settled for a Sprite, carbonated bubbles included.

The late afternoon was going splendidly…and then it hit 5:30!

The music that seemed to pair so well with pasta changed. Suddenly, almost as if somebody had changed the radio stations on my dad’s old 66 Chrysler Newport, the style of music switched. Senior Hour was over, and Pat Benatar’s rocking voice invaded the premises. And it was an 80’s Rock radio station! The wine connoisseurs had hobbled to their cars already and the beer drinkers had taken their places.

We skipped dessert as Tina Turner came crashing into the serenity.

Someone had done research on average dining-out times compared to age groups and decided that older folk like those early bird specials and middle-agers don’t show up until the 5:00 news is winding down…and the greybeards have wheeled themselves out to and out of the parking lot.

I couldn’t help comparing the situation to church catering. In my pastoring years, I encountered several different worshipping clientele. There was the die-hard hymn crowd, adamant about the shallowness of the new praise songs and hallow-ness of the red-covered hymnal. And there was the praise choruses cohort that enjoyed singing the same words over and over again because repetition somehow brought them closer to the Almighty. Blended services were like pairing a Whopper with a fruit cup instead of fries. Sinatra didn’t mix well with Benatar.

Expository preaching worked better in one setting and with one crowd than the messages that others said were “so relevant to life situations.”

“We’ve got to embrace change if we’re going to survive” would be a rationale that was uttered by the younger crowd, while the older folk would say, “What we’ve been doing has been highly valuable. Don’t just change for the sake of change!”

Jesus valued what had been while proclaiming a new day, a new birth, and a new covenant. Traditions were important, but so was transformation. In fact, He used the traditions to create a path toward transformation.

We have a way of minimizing those who have different tastes than we do, think differently, don’t look like us, make us uncomfortable, or cause us to feel disrespected. Like scratching the record album as the needle is carelessly lifted from it, or the sudden belting of Benatar singing “We belong, we belong” just as a soup spoon of minestrone is carefully raised to our open mouth, change causes cringing and crying, scratches and stains.

In my elder years, I pray that God would poke me about my close-minded responses, lead me into conversations, and push me to be a student of the things, and people, in life I don’t understand. As Pat Benatar would sing (with one additional word inserted), “We all belong, we all belong!”

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Heart Cries and an Emoji

March 6, 2024

 “Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts…” (Acts 2:46)

A close friend razzes me about responding to a text or message with a thumbs-up emoji. After all, he says, “I’m baring my soul or giving reactions to what you’ve written, and what do I get in return? An emoji!”

He pronounces “emoji” like it’s a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman who has disturbed his Sunday afternoon nap. He’s got a point.

If someone writes an email with several lengthy paragraphs that include their heart cry, pain, or confusion, responding with an emoji is a bit insensitive. Although there may be considerable thought behind that heart emoji, the receiver doesn’t know that. He assumes that the sender gave as much thought to it as the price of a loaf of bread.

Sadly, we’ve become an “emoji culture.” Pressing on an image takes a fraction of a second, whereas writing words with sincerity, thoughtfulness, and concern takes time. Symbolically, many of us have an enormous number of emoji relationships, but only a few of the people we communicate with are friendships of substance. Some might argue that we have so many superficial relationships that we don’t have time to invest in any of them. Healthy relationships, that is, relationships that have emotional depth, meaning, and value, require time. Like a savory stew that needs to simmer, something important needs patience and attention. Fully present, that’s the term.

Jesus was fully present. Can you imagine if He had responded to the leper with a crying emoji or to Simon Peter’s words, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God” with an emoji facial expression of “Wow!”? Thank God, no one has compiled an emoji bible that replaces Jesus’s red-lettered words with wordless expressions of minimal matter.

Jesus was fully present, fully engaged. That modeling of the importance of hearing people’s heart cries and knowing them in more than a superficial way carried over into the early church. People were committed to one another. Even in the depth of their community, there were still the downfalls, such as Ananias and Sapphira. However, for the most part, they were connected. In fact, they were so intimately connected they were known for their sense of community.

Just to be clear, I’m not saying that being closely committed means that we need to be wordy. Like one of my theology books from my seminary days, where a paragraph could be so long that I’d fall asleep before the ending, wordiness does not necessarily mean depth and a solid foundation. I don’t need to respond to my friend’s observation, affirmation, or heart cry with an analysis that resembles a thesis statement. The question to ask myself is, “Does he feel like I’ve heard him?”

In fact, some of us, like in the old days, may simply need to pick up our phone and call.

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Artificial Fear

March 3, 2024

“But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” (Daniel 3:18)

Just like my parents were, I’m a sugar-and-cream coffee guy. I learned it from them. Recently, at my neighborhood Starbucks (where I’m writing this on the last stool on the right), I decided to switch from my raw sugar and try one of the artificial sweeteners. One of the baristas, who I always banter back and forth with, said, “Bill, that stuff will give you brain cancer.”

I responded with, “It’s only one time. I don’t think I’ll get brain cancer from having one packet of sweetener.

“Just saying,” she said, a smile on her face. “They’ve done studies, you know.”

Another barista, with a somber tone, added, “Pretty much everything will give you cancer.”

I took my mug back to my stool and sipped on death for a few minutes. But it just didn’t taste right. It was more bitter than bitter and seemed to lay in my mouth like a spoonful of Castor Oil. After a few minutes, I gave in to my fear and went back for a fresh cup…with my usual raw sugar. The barista smiled at me and chuckled. It was as if she had triumphed over my insecurities and fears.

Someone once said, “Fear asks ‘what if.’ Faith says ‘even if.'” Those are great words, encouraging words. So often we allow a fear to grow from a seed to a full blown weed patch. A thought takes root and takes hold of our mind, our actions and inactions and faith gets defeated. We get mixed up on what the Book of Wisdom tells us and become convinced that we walk by sight and not by faith.

Three men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, faced death because of their faith in God. The penalty for their unwavering commitment was to be cast into a fiery furnace and burned up. Despite what was ahead, they said the words “…even if…”

Getting to the “even ifs” in the midst of our challenges is hard to do. It’s like convincing a child who is learning how to swim that he can float on his back if he trusts in what the swimming instructor is saying. Until he can be convinced to surrender, he will splash and thrash in the water, afraid to try what will keep him afloat.

To clarify, God also inserted common sense and wisdom into our DNA. Having faith does not mean being stupid. Having faith does not mean I should jump out of a plane without a parachute because I believe God will take on the responsibility of being my parachute. Faith and wisdom are not oil and water that don’t mix well together.

I’m back on my stool this morning, finishing these thoughts. I thought about conquering my fear of artificial sweeteners and having a packet mixed into my Pike Place but decided against it, not because of my fear of brain cancer but because I simply don’t like it. I figured out that it was a decision that didn’t depend on faith. It’s just what my taste buds communicated to me.

Maybe I should pray, “Lord, give me the ability to drink my coffee black.” However, that might be stepping into the land of the ludicrous.

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