Words from WW Blog

“They (Paul and Silas) went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia.” (Acts 16:6)

One of the hardest situations to figure out is when to know you’re done versus when to keep going; when it’s time to pull to the side versus when to puish forward. My generation has been more about pushing forward than quitting. We hate that word “quitting.” It resonates to us with immaturity, irresponsibility, and a lack of effort.

I’m generalizing here, but the younger generation seems comfortable with moving on when they feel like it, no matter the cost it has on the lives of others. Not showing up for work is not seen as irresponsible, but rather “I just don’t feel like working today!”

I know…I know, that’s a bit brutal to write, but from my experience it’s closer to the norm.

I came to that crossroads myself this past week. I had been working in a long-term substitute teaching position at the middle school where I’ve coached basketball for the past twenty-five years. This teaching position was scheduled to continue until the Christmas break. The teacher is on maternity leave. My assignment started earlier than it was supposed to because of some concerns about the teacher’s pregnancy. I had spent some time in the classroom before that, observing. Translated that means, figuring out who the suspects were in each class and becoming familiar with the class curriculum.

Three weeks into the assignment I was feeling the effects of the long hours I was having to put in, and the frustration that a few of the students were igniting within me. I had done long-term positions before, two of them resulting in me teaching the whole school year. It energized me. I looked forward to seeing my students on Mondays. However, this time things were different…and I knew it was time. Sometimes God says “yes”, sometimes “no”, and sometimes “not yet.”

Five weeks into my assignment I sensed that the Holy Spirit was nudging me to give it up. I forewarned the assistant principal that I was considering the possibility, and at six weeks, I told her I was stepping to the side. She was disappointed because she knew my history of working and relating well to the students.

Sometimes a person needs to discern when he is grinding versus being grounded. I was grinding myself into the dust to the point that my wife was getting worried. When God closes one door, the Christ follower needs to be cognizant of another open that might suddenly open. Or maybe the Holy Spirit is saying that it’s time for a brief rest, a stepping away before being asked to step up.

I’ve always been intrigued by the verse in Acts 16, where the Holy Spirit forbade Paul and Silas to speak the word in Asia, and the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them to go into Bithynia. It wasn’t the end of their journey; it was just a redirection that, shortly after, resulted in Lydia’s conversion during their visit to Philippi.

Rest is not the norm for me, although in my thirty-six years of pastoring the Sunday afternoon nap was a gift from God. I’m more comfortable with the words “redirection” and “pause.”

So I’m pausing, like the pause button on my background piano music right now as I write this. It’s only for a few moments before the melody begins again.

“But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)

Driving down the road close to our house, I noticed two signs in close proximity to one another (just in case you missed the first one) advertising “Junk Removal.” A phone number was positioned below the two bold-printed words. Removing junk is big business these days.

My wife knows. She has started advertising in our neighborhood chatter group about specific items we no longer need and are free for the taking. You see, there’s Junk, but there’s also Quality Reusable Junk. Truth be told, I recently participated in the Quality Reusable Junk initiative by gifting several boxes of books to our region’s American Baptist Church association to be sent to India, where a new seminary is being established. I parted with some quality theological works that I probably haven’t turned the pages of since I graduated from seminary in 1979. My wife assured me that there were a few other boxes that could have been filled. I stopped too soon. I just couldn’t part with Hans Kung’s memoirs or Latourette’s fourteen-hundred page “A History of Christianity.”

Our junk defines us, which means we are well-defined. We accumulate but rarely do a cleansing. Carol reminds me to delete text messages and voice messages that clog my cell phone like a high cholesterol artery. Sometimes when we’re on a road trip of at least an hour, she goes through emails and asks me the question, “Delete or keep” for each one of them. I’m embarassed to even say how many emails are still bunched together. Let’s just say I could have four volumes of Latourette.

I’m not good at simplifying my life. Most of us aren’t. We pile on or say “What if…” We’re like that at church, also. Recently, our church regional organization gave grants to churches who would use the money for a rollaway dumpster. Our church filled that sucker! Then we realized that a few things that had been given the “Come to Jesus” moment were carried back into the church by someone or someones who thought certain items were too historic to toss. ADVICE: Put a lock on that dumpster.

We’re too often like Christianized “Talmud-ites”! We must precisely define spiritual truth in such detail that the truth becomes lost at the bottom. Perhaps followers of Jesus need a few junk removers as well to take some of the trash off our simple gospel. John 3:16 gets footnoted with “But…” and “However…” If a person cannot believe that it comes down to the grace of God, and love of God, and the atoning natire of Jesus, he/she will be overwhelmed by the accumulating mess.

Perhaps it would be beneficial for us to pray about the junk in our lives that obscures our view of Jesus. Meanwhile, I’m going to receive some personal grace and hold off on Latourette. The book puts a dent in my lap whenever I sit down with it.

 “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”

 “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” (Mark 10:36-38)

It’s intriguing how the seemingly insignificant things we say have a way of standing out more in our minds than the most profound, wise words of great insight. Like when I tried to impress my sixth-grade friend by calling a fifth-grade teacher “an old bag” as she was leaving school on a Friday afternoon. Not long after that I was experiencing an intense heat on a certain part of my body thanks to our principal, a man named Shirley Morton (“Don’t call me Shirley. Yes, Mr. Morton!”) Even though that was almost sixty years ago, I remember the scene, the iron fence that bordered the school playground, and Mr. Morton’s powerful swing, probably made even more painful by the fact that it happened after school on a Friday afternoon.

Our dumb words said or done become like Jeopardy categories in our mind: “I’ll take Dumb Things Said To Girls for $100.” Or, “Let me try Idiotic Pranks Gone Awry for $200.”

Quite frankly, Jesus had a bookload of dumb things said to him. Instead of “Dad Jokes,” they could be called “Dumb Jokes.”

For instance, how about Martha, whining to Jesus about her sister, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself. Tell her, then, to help me.” (Luke 10:40) I’ve known a few church people who have berated others for what doing the work that only they thought was important.

Or there’s James and John, on a mission to impress the Son of God and asking Jesus, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” Their words came after a Samaritan village did not welcome Jesus. Jesus rebuked them for their words. What must it have felt like to be rebuked by Jesus after saying something that you thought was a good suggestion, and then came to figure out that it was a dumb idea?

The Pharisees and teachers of the law always seemed to have been chomping on chewable dumb tablets. It seems that the only people who are not listed in the dumb book are children and most of the people that Jesus healed, many of them social outcasts.

So I realize that my tendency to “dumb down my words” puts me in a vast company of others. I keep searching my mind for something wise-worthy, but I keep coming up empty. As a result, I keep going to scripture and finding a verse that needs to be underlined or words said by Eugene Peterson or Philip Yancey that resonate in a sweet way like strawberry preserves on a hot homemade biscuit.

On the positive, whenever I get a little too uppity, I remember one of the dumb things I said in the past seven decades, and it humbles me back to reality. And, boy howdy, there’s a lot of material there to be humbled by!

“As he walked along, he saw Levi, son of Alphaeus, sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” Jesus told him, and Levi got up and followed him.” (Mark 2:14)

One of my neighbors is recovering from a fall. His daily physical therapy now entails a walk around the block, his walker moving slowly in front of him, and his eyes on sidewalk cracks and unevenness that could suddenly trip him up. Ralph is in his mid-eighties, delightful to talk to, and a retired Navy officer.

This morning I had the privilege of going with him on his walk. The lady who normally walks with him (also a neighbor and retired nurse) had planned an out-of-town trip and asked me if I would pinch-hit, or maybe pinch-walk, for her.

As I reflected on our neighborhood journey, it occurred to me that it probably resembled what it was like to walk with Jesus. Ralph was focused on putting one foot in front of the other, but he stopped several times in our stroll to talk to people. He talked to the water sprinkler repair person, he talked to his neighbor across the street, and, a while later, to the neighbor’s spouse and son. He spoke with the man who was coming out to retrieve his empty trash can and also with another person as they drove by.

In essence, a walk with Ralph was not so much about where we were going but rather who we met along the way. It wasn’t about the destination, but rather the dialogue and discussion as we went. I envision a walk with Jesus being like that. In our hurry-up world, we miss the calm moments that are the most meaningful. I remember walking with my dad in the last couple of years of his life. He was to the point where he shuffled his feet as he walked, slow and steady, never rushing to get to wherever we were going. The best part of that was not where we were heading to, but rather the walk along the way.

Jesus talked as he walked. He taught as he made his way to the next town. People joined him in the journey as he progressed. Some of his most powerful and meaningful conversations came as he walked.

I was on the receiving end of Ralph’s neighborhood education. He knows all his neighbors. As he walked, he’d tell me about a neighbor’s family, occupation, how long they had lived there, what they lke to do, where they’ve been, and interesting things he’s learned about them.

Just like Jesus. Jesus knew the people who walked with him, and Jesus knows each one of us. When we walk through our days at hyper-speed, we’re prone to miss the greatest blessings of God and others.