Words from WW Blog

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

“Something old, something new...” is the beginning of a rhyme intended for brides to remember their list of things that needed to be done. For me, it has a completely different connotation. In the midst of my old age, I’m finding new experiences.

For example, I’m awakened each new day with my new companion, Arth Rithis! You see, the latest and greatest may mean what enters into your life later on that will be one of your greatest challenges. To announce its arrival, it rings the doorbell of your lower back and knocks on your knees. The pill that is taken shortly after arising in the morning gradually dulls the noise of the pain.

This is another thing about the oldness of newness: the expanding number of pill bottles that are the AARP equivalent of notches in the belt. It’s a sign of how many decades you’ve roamed the earth, a prescription to symbolize every ten years. Honestly, most of the pill bottles are reflections of the sins of my past: a taste for fried foods, not stretching well enough before playing basketball or taking in a five-mile run, slouching in that uncomfortable school desk for all those years, and snacking late at night. In many cases, the newness is connected to my dumbness.

Other new additions to my new old year include suspect hearing, hurting teeth, unexpected grumpiness, and a desire to head to warmer climates about the time I’m turning the thermostat up in the house.

The other side of the well-weathered coin, however, is that each day is a new creation, a new opportunity, and filled with the potential of a multitude of blessings. I am a new creation given the opportunity to be renewed and refreshed each and every day.

When I retired after 36 and 1/2 years as a church pastor, I was actually “repurposed.” I was no longer pastoring a church, but I was repurposed to pastor in other ways: conversations at Starbucks with several of the regulars that often turn towards the spiritual, coaching young athletes with emphases on good character and respect for others, the freed-up time to write, and the opportunities to teach middle school kids that is more about influencing their perspectives and moral outlook on life. I no longer have the time pressure to prepare a sermon each week, but I do have the “purpose” of impacting young minds.

In effect, I am a new creation, not because of anything I’ve done but because of the One I follow, Jesus. The renewing of my mind is far more important than the deterioration of my knees and hips. In the midst of my transition from Frosted Flakes to cereal that resembles grass clippings, I have been blessed to make small, subtle differences in the lives of those I encounter.

I am an old new creation!

 “This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 1:18)

The front porch of my Mamaw and Papaw Helton’s Kentucky farmhouse was a place of storytelling. My dad, uncles, and grandfather would sit in the rockers and porch swings and tell the tales of past events. It did not matter that they had been told and retold and were known as well as an Andy Griffith rerun. They were the stories that entertained. They were the ingredients in the family identity recipe.

Underneath the stories were the reasons, causes and effects that were often lost in the numerous retellings. The why behind the story had been layered over with the recounting of each saga. Pretty soon, the reason for the story had disappeared into the distant past.

The deeper truths and values of our lives are sometimes buried by the narratives that we bring back to the front porch. There is always the danger of forgetting about the hope, grace, peace, faith, and love that are at the root of the stories.

I find that with the story of the birth of Jesus. We’ve told the story so many times that it’s become just a story. We remember the details, but the story is more than the details. Most of us can quote pieces of the conversations between Mary and the angel, the words of the angel to the frightened shepherds who were out in the fields watching their flocks. We know about the inn that had no room, the manger birthplace, and the reason Mary and Joseph were in Bethlehem (The Roman census).

The story is powerful. It is impacting. It is miraculous and majestic. It’s more than one of Aesop’s fables or Grimm’s fairy tales. It is the story of the love of God funneled into the form of a newborn who has come to save the world.

During this season of reflection and celebration, may we not lose sight of the grace of God that embraced His humanity.

“You were running a good race. Who cut in on you to keep you from obeying the truth? (Galatians 5:7)

I was not chosen…and I was okay with that. Actually, a bit relieved.

The Back Story: Our school board experienced an unexpected resignation. As a result, the process to appoint a replacement began. The recent November election had been contentious. Battle lines were drawn, with the remaining four board members being viewed as a highly conservative group. The two newly elected board members ran with that as their platform, defeating the two incumbents.

A parent who I greatly respect came to me and asked if I would consider applying for the vacant board spot. The same thing happened to me in Michigan when a school board member there had moved out of the district. I was selected to replace her and then ran in the next election and served another four years.

This time, I checked with some people whose opinions and perspectives I highly respect to get their thoughts. I fully expected to receive “stop signs” and comments like “What in the world are you thinking!!!” But they went the other direction on me. So I applied…as did 23 others!

I had to get a resume together. I can’t remember the last time I did a resume! And then, all of the responses from all of the applicants were put online for anyone who suffered from insomnia to read. The list was narrowed down from 24 to 5 finalists, who will be interviewed by the board. I’m not one of them, and a relieving exhale filled our home.

Sometimes, obedience doesn’t always lead us to a yes conclusion. Sometimes, we’re asked to simply be willing to take that first step. I wouldn’t have even thought about applying if the parent hadn’t come to our house and talked to Carol and me about it. The surprise of that visit and conversation caused me to seek whether God was in the leading or not. Only a handful of people knew that I had applied and, quite honestly, those few folks, all had a tugging. They urged me to proceed and yet they were concerned for my welfare in a heated environment. They saw that I could make a difference, but were worried for the stress level that would come with the responsibilities of the position.

Following the leading of the Lord does not always make the headlines. In fact, it may make only the fine print, or in my case the end of the long list of 24 resumes that were placed in alphabetical order.