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Feeding Mom

April 16, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. April 16, 2012

Parents treasure many different experiences with their kids. Taking them for an unplanned ice cream cone…school class field trips to the zoo…teaching the son how to properly tie a necktie.

The heart memories differ with each parent, and with each child of the parent.

When it comes to the final days of one of your parents there is a whole new collection of shared experiences that are valued, although painful.

I’m back in Ohio for a couple of weeks to spend time with my mom and dad. My mom is pretty much confined to her bed. Yesterday she was up in her wheelchair for three hours, which was the only time she had been out of bed since the previous Sunday. She has a form of Parkinson’s that has gradually eroded her mental functioning, verbalizing, and comprehension.

There is no “getting over it” in this lifetime. It isn’t a virus bug that a pill and rest can take care of.

It just is!

There isn’t much I can do, just be. One thing, however, that I do is feed Mom dinner each night. She has lost the use of her hands, so I scoot the broccoli on to the fork (Always with a bit of ranch dressing on top of it! Wait a minute! We never got ranch dressing for our broccoli!) I coax her into taking a drink of juice with a straw. I spear a cut-up piece of chicken breast and hope that she will bite it off of the fork.

But something else precious and extraordinary has been happening as I feed Mom dinner. I’ve been going back and retelling her stories from the past, from when we lived beside Lexington Road in Winchester, Kentucky, and we had friend chicken one night. I said to Dad, “That was good fried chicken, Daddy!”

“I’m glad you liked it, and now I can tell you that it wasn’t fried chicken.”

“It wasn’t! It tasted like fried chicken. What was it…a turkey with short legs?”

“Rabbit!”

My mind: “Fluffy!”

It takes Mom about an hour to eat dinner eat night, so we relive a lot of the old experiences.

“Mom, remember when we had a dog? What was his name? Buster?

She every so slightly shakes her head no. I’m sure his name was Buster.

“Remember when Dad would turn Buster over on his back and slide him across the kitchen linoleum floor? And then Buster would get back on his feet and come back for more.”

A blank look. Later on that evening when I ask Dad if the dog’s name was Buster he tells me “No, it was Butch!”

Mom knew, although she couldn’t verbalize it.

Each fork of food is ripe with some other discovery.

“Remember when Mamaw and Papaw would take us kids on a summer evening in the back of his truck to the place down the road that served ice cream cones?”

Two eyes gaze at me for several moments, but… nothing.

“What was the name of that place? Salyer’s?”

The slight nod of correction again. The name goes undiscovered until I talk to my dad later, but…as my mom’s nod of no indicated, it wasn’t Salyer’s.

There are even special touches of God upon our lives in the acts that we would prefer to never have to do. There are blessings from him even in the midst of the parts of life that we dread. As my mom slowly loses ground there are moments of connection and conversation that will stand out for the rest of my life.

I often read Romans 8:26-28 with a grimace. Feeding Mom has given me a glimpse of a new meaning in the same words. In The Message its rendered “Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.”

With an ache in my heart, but a longing in my soul, I look forward to what we’ll recall tonight. Perhaps it will deal with beets and turnips, or bow ties, or the time she caught me sneaking back from a place that she had specifically forbidden me to go. If I go “there”, I’m wondering if I’ll get the raised eyebrows look that let’s me know she remembers!

Categories: Christianity, Faith, Parenting, Uncategorized
Tags: Aging, ministry

Comments: 1 Comment

Forgetting Our Purpose, But Remembering Our Cell Phone

April 15, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. April 15, 2012

Many people think I’m clueless…and I am in some respects! Without guidance from my wife my colorblindness can cause the reactions around me to non-verbally communicate “What was he thinking?” And there have been other times when a “thank you” to Carol for the dinner she has just cooked would have been appreciated, but I cluelessly sat there like a “man stone”- word-less!

So I admit my cluelessness. One time I even walked through an airport terminal unzipped before my friend may mention of an open barn door. When your “openness” is suddenly revealed it causes you to think about all the smiles and grins you have just received in the last five minutes.

But…there are other things I’m pretty observant of. In recent times I’ve noticed the attitude and attentiveness of workers in restaurants and business establishments. It might go to the fact that I just read Patrick Lencioni’s book The Three Signs Of A Miserable Job.

Sometimes the customer seems to be an inconvenience. A couple of weeks ago Carol and I took our daughters and grand kids to Dairy Queen. I like Dairy Queen. Years ago my Aunt Irene bought me my first foot-long hot dog there, plus my first banana split. Unfortunately, they were during the same meal and I just about split my tummy trying to eat both items. My Uncle Milliard, who was married to my Aunt Irene, bought a Dairy Queen for a few months, and just as quickly sold it because the fourteen hour days were killing him. He knew it was time to sell when one day he looked out at the long line of customers and yelled “Doesn’t anyone eat at home anymore?” Although in question form, it was not really a question!

Back to my recent DQ stew! The young man who took our order seemed to be more interested in one of the young ladies who was working the drive-thru lane than he was in the guy with the twenty dollar bill in his hand. We ordered, and all of our order came…except one item! Mine! My Peanut Butter Bash…missing in action!

I was patient, waiting to the side as other customers placed their orders…and then received…and then left. As I waited I noticed the young man’s cell phone placed right next to the register, and every twenty seconds or so he would receive a text from someone who was obviously more important then me. And he would respond to it.

My clueless side was not so pronounced that I thought to myself “Wow! People can text their orders to DQ ahead of time now. That’s pretty neat!”

No, I was just waiting for my Peanut Butter Bash, which I will never ever order again!

Finally, I got Employee X’s attention and told him that I hadn’t received part of our order. He asked me what I was waiting on, and I told him “Peanut Butter Bash”, which when you think of it, sounds kind of stupid. In fact, as I told him I almost felt immature, like ordering a kids’s meal when I’m old enough to order off of the Senior Menu.

In about 30 seconds he put the PBB in front of me with no “Sorry about that”, or “My bad!”…just put it right there and checked his cell phone again.

How often it seems that we forget our purpose for being where we are, and for what we’re doing. We just put in the time in a lackluster manner, making no impact and giving minimal attention and effort.

Could it be that the church needs to learn from the DQ guy? That being the hands and feet of Jesus to a person who is in the midst of a listening ear is more important than the text from Howdy Doody saying “Hey?”

Just saying…could it be that we sometimes just put the time in…without thinking how our attentiveness could be a connecting link in someone’s life transformation experience? Perhaps reducing the times of cluelessness might result from a more attentiveness to the whisper of the Spirit.

Categories: Christianity, Faith, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: ministry, Purpose, Work

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Playing Big With Little People

April 15, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. April 15, 2012

Saturday morning I was at the soccer game that the daughter of my nephew was playing in. She’s in third grade, which translated means that most of the parents there had cups of Starbucks coffee in their hands, or coffee staying hot in a thermos. (I waited until after the game to go to Starbucks! Willpower!)

Gracie had a great time playing, as did all of the kids. No one had told them yet that “This is serious business…so wipe that smile off your face!”

Meanwhile, something else caught my attention. On the field right behind us a game involving four year old’s was taking place. One of the coaches was an African-American man who was so big he looked by a tree house that the kids could climb on. I’m guessing…and I believe I’m quite accurate on this one…that he played football. He was so big that he could have played Right Guard…and Left Guard …on the same play.

And he was having a ball! And because he was having a ball the players on both teams were having a ball! One time I looked over and he was dangling a young boy upside down. I’m not even sure it was a player on his own team, but the boy was laughing and in a moment of “life delight!”

The coach congratulated and high-fived players on both teams. He helped little girls who tripped back on their feet. He shouted encouragement.

He played big with the little people. He inspired me!

As a coach I get the tremendous privilege of influencing young people, helping them improve their skills, learn from their mistakes, mentor them in life lessons through the lens of a game. I fan the flame of their passion for the game, while not losing sight of their youthfulness.

Although I’m not as big as the soccer coach of the four year old’s, in some ways I get to play big with the little people. I get to guide them in having fun.

In the youth sports culture we’ve lost most of that.

Like the coach who has his sixth grade girls’ basketball team press their opponents full-court even though they are up by thirty at the start of the fourth quarter.

Or the coach who plays his main group and then when, because of a mandatory league rule, he puts the last kid on the bench in to pinch hit, he commands him not to swing at any pitch because the player never makes contact. He robs him of the sound of a baseball meeting wood, because he’s short-sighted.

Or the coach who had no success as an athlete growing up, so he’s going to win at any cost with the youth team he’s coaching now.

Or the two coaches who get into a fight after the game in front of their players, who all stand there with mouths wide open in shock.

The list could go on for pages. Somewhere and at sometime we lost the thrill and sheer joy of playing big with the little people.

The joy of playing children is a sign of the blessing of God upon Jerusalem in the Old Testament book of Zechariah (chapter 8). In The Message paraphrase of Zechariah 8:4 it says, “And boys and girls will fill the public parks, laughing and playing- a good city to grow up in.”

I love that! I pray that we regain that scene.

I hope I run into “the man child” again at the next soccer outing. I’m going to tell him how he inspired me, how he brought a smile to my face, how his “playing big” brought a little glimpse of God’s delight!

Categories: Christianity, Faith, Parenting, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Children sports, coaching, Playing, soccer

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The Three Sheds

April 14, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. April 14, 2012

Once upon a time there was a church with three sheds behind it. One day a couple of thieves thought “We need money, and there’s three sheds behind that church. Let’s break into one of them and steal some cool stuff. Sheds behind churches are easy pickings!”

So they waited until they thought no one was around and they broke into the nicest and newest of the three sheds. They broke the lock off, swung the door open, and started squealing with delight as they were about to open the door. But when they opened the door they discovered that the nicest and newest of the sheds belonged to the Boy Scout troop that the church sponsored, and inside the shed there were only some boxes of scouting manuals, some badges in bags, a couple of flag holders, a coat rack with scout shirts hanging from it, and some folding card tables.

The thieves were disappointed, but they thought “Oh well! There’s two other sheds. We don’t need this one!”

They moved on to the oldest of the sheds, the one that looked like it was in the worst shape. They still had not sensed that anyone was in the vicinity so they clipped the lock off of the oldest shed. Perhaps it would have a good snowplower, or a riding lawn mower, or even a gas-powered leaf blower.

But, once again, when they swung the door open they discovered a stack of old and heavy wooden tables, a mower that looked like it had been around since the Civil War, a weed whacker broken into three pieces, and a yard rake that was missing several of its teeth.

Not only that, but the thieves got smeared with cobwebs!

On to Shed #3! It was the largest of the sheds…in other words, the one that could hold the most treasures! It was the most difficult to get the lock broken off of because the door had gotten a little warped, but with some effort they finally broke it free. When the door swung open they held their breath.

But, alas! Inside the largest of the three sheds were several stacks of metal folding chairs, boxes of old hymnals, choir robes, a twelve foot ladder, folding risers, long tubes that were unrecognizeable, and an old heavy wooden podium. There was even a couple of folding signs. One that said “Rummage Sale Today!” and another one that said “Craft Bizarre Inside!”

One of the thieves looked at the other and said, “This is no fair! We’ve broken into three sheds and haven’t found anything that is worth stealing! Doesn’t this church have anything of value?”

“Come on, let’s go before we get caught!”

And so the two thieves crept slowly away, never to be caught, but also leaving with empty hands…for you see what the church has that is valuable is not in anything material, but rather in a message. Oddly enough, the message is free for the taking, but was costly to purchase.

The most valuable thing that a church has does not involve bricks or mortar, or sculptured creations, but rather a story about another man who died between two other thieves. Neither of those thieves escaped, and yet one of them, if you believe the gospel story, found something of eternal value.

*The three sheds behind our church were broken into this week. The above story is true except for the “Craft Bizarre” sign. Nothing of value was taken from any of the sheds, because…there was nothing of value in them to begin with. Our only disappointment is that they didn’t take the mower and the boxes of old hymnals.

Categories: Christianity, Faith, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Parables

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The Graying of the Matter

April 12, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. April 12, 2012

There is no easy way to growing older. We can talk about getting wiser, but the arthritis often dulls our sense of sharpness. We can talk about maturity, but the increase in the number of pill bottles in our medicine cabinet seems to go with it. We can talk about the glory days of retirement, but the “getting re-tired” every day is a footnote to that page of our life.
And then there is the struggle associated with seeing your parents in the winter of their lives. I’m back in Ohio for a couple of weeks visiting my mom and dad. My mom spent the past five months in a full care center, until my Dad decided he was going to bring her back home and have home health care nurses come each day to provide six to eight hours of care. He and my sister are filling in the gaps. It’s costly, and has its hard moments, but Dad seems to be much happier that his soul mate is back with him at home.
My mom has a form of Parkinson’s that significantly reduces her ability to communicate and to comprehend. This morning she asked me where I stayed last night. I told her the guest bedroom, and she responded “Where’s that at?”
But at other times she seems to mostly understand what is going on!
It is a tough part of many tough elements in the aging process. She is partially with it and partially not with it. Each question…each conversation…each facial expression…carries with it the question…”Is she aware or not aware?”
My mom still gives me “the look”, the look that makes me search back over what I’ve said like a kid who has just unknowingly spilled the beans about a transgression he thought would never have to be revealed. But now “the look” is filled with confusion and disconnection.
In many ways it would be easier if Mom was totally not there or totally there. There would be no guessing and uncertainty. Each moment would be pre-defined.
Her “graying” brings pauses in the conversation. I’m asking myself “Did she understand? Is she searching for a response?”
I noticed during my last visit in December that a couple of the nurses erroneously thought that she had a hearing problem. My mom’s hearing is 20/20! I know that’s a vision calculation, but that’s the best way I can let you know that she hears everything…even when you’re whispering. With the nurses her lack of giving a timely answer was simply due to her trying to connect the dots in her mind.
While I’m here I’m sure that I will have some good, but brief, glimpses of conversation with her, but also some awkward pauses. The awkward pauses will bring me back to my childhood moments when it was best to not say anything and just listen.
And I’ll treasure the moments…the grayness…the uncertainty!

Categories: Faith, Parenting, Uncategorized
Tags: Aging, elderly parents, Growing old, memories, Parkinson's

Comments: 2 Comments

A Hunger for New Heroes

April 10, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. April 9, 2012

Bubba Watson’s victory in The Master’s golf tournament was impressive. What was even more heartwarming was the media’s telling of his story. Comments in TV rooms around the country could be summed up with “Nice guys finish first!”

In recent times there seems to be a hunger in our culture for heroes. We want to know that there are still good, law-abiding, morally strong, balanced people who we can look up to. It’s gratifying to know that someone like Bubba Watson, and his wife, Angie (who is 6’4”) had just adopted a one month ago boy two weeks before the Master’s. We tend to pull for a guy who just recently experienced the death of his father. It’s satisfying to hear that after winning the Master’s, Bubba said “I’m like to first thank Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.”

The ironic thing is that at the same time we look for heroes we also seem to seek to find the narrow openings in the armor. Witness the recent experience with Tim Tebow. It was un-nerving to a lot of people to see Tebow “tebowing”. It was irritating to a lot of folks to see him give such visible expression to his faith. There were a lot of people who scrutinized deeper then an FBI investigation. There was intense examination for inconsistencies.

My cynical side mutters that there are probably a number of folk who would rather their daughters bring home a Saints “bounty hunter” instead of a humble quarterback, who knows that there is more to life than a few years in professional football.

And Bubba Watson knows that there is more to life then sporting a new green jacket. This coming weekend is another tournament and a new challenge. His hero status will probably diminish..except in the growing stature of his new adopted baby boy.

We like new heroes, but we seem lacking in the grace to keep them there. They quickly fade, but also rapidly fall. For every “man after God’s own heart” there is a King David whose view of reality and what is right gets distorted by his power or position.

The positive result of that is that each of us has Psalm 51 that we can speak.

“Create in a me a pure heart, O Lord!”

Categories: Christianity, Faith, Parenting, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Christianity, Faith

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“Following Jesus As A Following Church”

April 5, 2012

This week’s Newsweek cover story is written by Andrew Sullivan who questions the validity of the church, while still following Jesus. The article’s title is splashed across the front cover of the magazine: “Forget Church; Follow Jesus”.

Sullivan makes several good points in the article about the politicizing of Christianity by the religious right and liberal left; the fleecing of the TV flocks by tele-evangelists; the institutional nature…and he’s right…to a point! It’s like saying that the molesting of children by Catholic priests is bad, therefore we should do away with all Catholic priests. The sad truthfulness of the first part does not mean the conclusion of the second part should be made.

Creating a “battle” during Holy Week does a lot to sell magazines, and inflame the passions of advocates and opponents. Good marketing strategy, but not necessarily the right course of action. It’s kind of like when I came home from the store last week with a new bottle of salad dressing. If I had been asked, before I could safely stow the bottle in the cupboard, why I bought a new bottle of salad dressing I would have had to reply “Because I went to buy bread!” The bottle of ranch dressing was not connected to buying bread, but it was connected to the reason for the visit to the store in the first place.

It seems to me that the church has lost part of its way, and is in the process of rediscovering it. That rediscovery is intimately connected to the original reason- to be a community of followers of Jesus. Faith is not about forgetting the church. It’s about following Jesus as a church. It’s the interconnected lives sharing stories and experience about their journeys.

That journey as following communities is filled with stumbles, mutterings, and banging into one another; but it’s also filled with deep soul-satisfying discoveries, new life and renewal, and dances out of restored lives.

It takes me back to the order of Benedictine Sisters who live at the spiritual retreat center north of our city. There is such rhythm in the midst of their community that my soul still resonates with the peace I experienced there a year ago.

The church as an institution has Titanic written all over it; but the church as a vessel, a follower-ship, is steered by the hope of Christ, and the wind of the Spirit.

Categories: Christianity, Faith, The Church, Uncategorized

Comments: 2 Comments

Doing Things With One Hand

March 27, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W, March 27, 2012

Sometimes during basketball practice we do a special day called “Left Hand Wednesday”. I’ve inserted another day for Wednesday when it falls accordingly. Wednesday was often the day it fell on, because there had been a game the day before, so the “lack of having a left hand” was still vivid in my mind. On Left Hand Wednesday practice consist of left-hand lay-ups, ball handling drills with…that’s right, the left-hand. Since the offense almost always started on the right side, on this special day I’d restrict it to the left side of the court.

Making the point about being so “left-hand challenged” the players were started to resonate with some of them. Others never quite got it. I’d find myself saying things like “Is there a train track that you’re having to stay on each time that leads you down into the right baseline corner?” or after someone had tried to sneak in a right-hand lay-up on the left side, “No, use your OTHER left hand!”

Our potential as a team was intimately connected to how one-handed dependent we were.

I’m typing this with my right hand only..and one finger only besides that. I sliced my left hand this morning as I was moving some tables at church. So now I have an excuse for being left-hand deficient. My left hand is elevated at the moment, and my one typing finger on my right hand is getting sore…oh, is that a callous on the end of it?

When a basketball player is one-handed, he/she becomes predictable, and predictableness limits innovation, accomplishing the objective, progress, and vision. The last couple of hours have seen limited productivity from this wounded warrior. Ever tried to eat a chicken pot pie with one hand? One hand with a fork, that is! Ohhh…there goes a piece of carrot right on to my shirt! And of course it lands on the white stripe on my multi-colored shirt!

It raises many questions for me.

How much of my life is one-sided in my approach without even realizing it until there’s a wound…a verbal disagreement, a view that suddenly becomes glaringly distorted? When that happens how often do I try to hide from the truth of it?

“No, that’s not what I meant to say! You misunderstood me!”

How much of my life is lived in neglect of God standing on my left side? Or, perhaps lived with a blindness to how God desires to help me and grow me on/in my weak side.

How often does the church only listen to one-sided people at the exclusion of those who can see both sides?

How often does the church only function in one way, and it being a way that is not open to new creations, new beginning, and new life?

How often do I take the words of Jesus about being “the way”, and package it in my way, which I spiritualize with language that verbalizes “one way”, but is followed only if it fits my way?

How often do I neglect those on the left because I always go right; or how often do I neglect those on the right because I always go left?

My left hand is in a state of numbness right now, as I let the God who constructed it and designed begin to heal it. And my right hand is numb, also, not out of empathy, but fatigue!

This one-handed thing is giving me some ideas for other practice emphases for next basketball season.

No dribble Tuesdays!

Sarcastic Saturdays!

Psycho Coach Fridays!

Run for a while Thursdays!

Categories: Christianity, Faith, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Basketball

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Finishing Perseverance

March 21, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. March 21, 2012

“Perseverance must finish its work, so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:4)

“The Wall” is the term that is used to describe a point where an athlete is physically, emotionally, and mentally fatigued. To go any further he must be able to reach deep with inside of himself and discover a hidden reservoir of strength and energy that he didn’t know was there. At the Boston Marathon “the Wall” is even known by the name “Heartbreak Hill.” It comes between the 20^th and 21^st miles of the race, and is an incline not quite a half-mile long. Heartbreak Hill is the point in the race where most runners must “finish perseverance”, or they will drop to the side.

I hadn’t actually thought about perseverance being something that needs to be finished, but James infers that in his words towards the beginning of his New Testament letter. When perseverance is complete a person is taken to a new point in his journey. That new point happens because perseverance has achieved it’s purpose.

It reminds me of that fascinating game called “curling”, that we only seem to see once every four years (during the Winter Olympics). The “curler” guides a “stone” towards the target area. “Sweepers’ use brooms to finish the stone’s placement. It is the curler whose precise and focused moments are essential for the stone to get to the finish. Perseverance is like the curler. It carries us to that certain point where the target is in sight.

If I’m reading the words of James correctly, maturity comes at the finishing of perseverance. Perhaps spiritual immaturity takes a hold on a person’s life, because perseverance is never finished. It’s like all the books I have in my library. I am a “book addict.” The problem is that I have a book-load of unfinished hard copies. It’s not that the books are uninteresting. It’s more that I’m undisciplined to go the distance, to go from Preface to Epilogue.

Could it be that our lack of spiritual maturity is intimately connected to our deficiency in perseverance? It’s easier to bail out than to stay with an uncomfortable leg in the journey. Maturity, however, is signatured with some battle wounds, and painful events.

In a culture that is increasingly superficial and enamored with the outwardly beautiful, perseverance brings us to a point of “aged and deep beauty.” It goes past a 140 character Tweet to a volume of depth.

Finish perseverance, and persevere as you finish!

Categories: Christianity, Faith, Uncategorized
Tags: Discipleship

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Crystal Seasons and Silver Linings

March 13, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W. March 13, 2012

I freely confess upfront that I’ve always been suspicious and uneasy with “church on TV.” I was raised, grew up in, and have pastored in situations that have conveyed and believed in the importance of the local church. My vision, therefore, has been tinted by my experience.

Most of us in the calling of “pastor” have looked with an eye of concern about the mega-churches, and yet longed to pastor one. We have had a bit of disdain towards huge ministries, and yet lusted over their Sunday morning slickness.

Just being honest! To put it in a different context, it’s similar to dreaming of playing for the Colorado Rockies, but being on the roster of a team in the local “50 and Over” league.

So the recent plight of the Crystal Cathedral has given me pause to reflect, repent, and be grieved. Robert Schuller’s magnificent building, built in 1961 at a cost of $3 million dollars, has been the scene of architectural beauty and excellent TV “churching.” In recent times, however, it has fallen on tough financial times and in February was sold to the Roman Catholic Diocese for $57.5 million dollars. The Crystal Cathedral congregation has three years to find a new meeting place. In the mean times, however, there is the lingering pathway of debris that keeps flowing out of the situation. Hurt feelings, financial woes, a divided congregation over issues like “traditional music, choirs, and worship service order” has further splintered the church.

It is at this point that many of the sharpest critics of the Crystal Cathedral, “The Hour of Power” telecast, and Robert Schuller, start or more boldly point their wagging finger. There is a strong smell of glee that is in the air.

For me there is more sadness, because I know how so many people were ministered to by “The Hour of Power” when, perhaps, they weren’t able to attend worship at their local church. The elderly who went through times of illness and being home-bound could turn on the TV on Sunday morning and see Schuller’s smiling face and hear his encouraging words.

In our fast-paced world it conveys to us the quickness of change. Fifty years may seem like a long time, but it is simply a few moments in the span of time. How easily movements come and go! How fickle are the interests and passions of our culture! As Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes 3, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.”

What “our season” is should point to the One who created the seasons! Recently when I watched the snow piling up against our house I thought to myself, “Thank God the snow will not make a permanent “lean-to” against our home!” It had come, but it would also go. Brief and delightful, is you were a child wanting to build a snow fort; gone and forgotten as the ability to go for a walk in short sleeves arrives.

“The Hour of Power” inspired and ministered to many people. There should be no joy in its disappearance.

Categories: Christianity, Faith, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Crystal Cathedral

Comments: 2 Comments

Words from WW Blog