Volun-told

Posted March 22, 2025 by wordsfromww
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He directed two of his disciples, “Go into the city. A man carrying a water jug will meet you. Follow him. Ask the owner of whichever house he enters, ‘The Teacher wants to know, Where is my guest room where I can eat the Passover meal with my disciples?’ He will show you a spacious second-story room, swept and ready. Prepare for us there.” (Mark 14:13-15)

There’s a new term that I guess I missed. “Volun-told.”

It’s when no hands go up in the air, and something needs to be done. It’s Jesus saying to a couple of his disciples, “Go…” There’s a task at hand even when there isn’t a raised hand.

At school, whenever I need someone to take the class attendance slip to the office, there are so many students willing to volunteer, it’s like a rush for Taylor Swift concert tickets. Getting out of class for three minutes and strolling down the school corridor is savored by every student halfway interested in the body paragraphs of an essay construction. Heck! I’m interested, but I remind myself that I’m the teacher.

Jesus often “voluntold” his disciples to be about a task. Perhaps it’s because the gospels were written in a different language, but Jesus never said please when telling one of his disciples to do something. The only time he said please was in reference to “pleasing His Father.”

A disciple follows the one who is the teacher and, in doing that, follows the commands of the One directing. There is a trust factor involved in it. The disciple trusts in the guidance of the Leader.

Just my opinion, but I believe churches are populated with people who are waiting to be voluntold what to do. New people in the community of faith are especially in need of being voluntold. They are like the disciples of Jesus, unfamiliar with systems and procedures, needs and wants. Like a sports fan at a new arena searching for the section that his seat is in, they’re willing but uncertain.

On the other hand, there are a few manipulative people in faith communities who are prone to lay guilt trips on those who are a bit uncertain and vulnerable. If a request includes words like, “Jesus would want you to do this…” or “Anyone who calls themselves a Christian wouldn’t hesitate to say yes,” it’s manipulation in full throttle.

Jesus never commanded the disciples to do something that He thought was beyond them, even casting out demons. He raised the bar regarding their capabilities. He maximized their potential. So many followers of Jesus are uncertain of their potential. To be voluntold needs that element of the leader’s faith. In her charge there is the tone that says, “I believe in you!”

To be voluntold is to insinuate that people are on the same team and have the same goals and objectives. Sometimes, the church doesn’t need a committee to decide on how the squeak in the entry door is to be cured. Just tell Jim to do it, and it will get done yesterday!

My Obituary

Posted March 16, 2025 by wordsfromww
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“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”
(1 Corinthians 15:55)

I was substitute teaching seventh-graders this past week, a certain class that I often am residing in and know the kids by name. On Wednesday, they asked me if I was going to be there the next day. My response was that I would unless I died. That got their attention.

Soon, our conversation steered toward my funeral. Would they be invited? Could they sit in the front row? Would they be allowed to cheer? (Cheer???) We went back and forth on how they thought my funeral should go, proper conduct and inappropriate actions. We even talked about cremation and whether my ashes could be placed in the classroom. It was creative in a disturbing sort of way!

I suggested that someone should write my obituary since they seemed to be so enamored at my passing. They did! And signed it! It was even signed by one of the other teachers.

It was suggested that I had been born in 1254 and was 800 years old and that I was survived by family members: Alpha Wolfe, Sigma Wolfe, and Rizzler Wolfe. For one of the classes, I laid down on the floor as a student read the obituary over me.

Entertaining, yes it was. When I’m in the class again after our spring break, I’m sure a number of them will express their surprise that my ticker is still ticking.

And then I talked to my friend, Dave Hughes, who was my best man and high school classmate. Dave, who now lives in Florida, shared the news of several of our old church youth group friends who are in the midst of serious health situations. One of them is perhaps in his final days, another is wheelchair-bound, and another has had his life altered my an ongoing cancer problem.

Death seems to have come close to us. In fact, it seems that it has moved right next door. The friend who is in his final days wrote a letter to his grandchildren in which he penned life principles for them to consider and live by. His heart was displayed in the words of life experience, wise beyond his years. They included such things as building strong relationships, embracing hard work, and living a Christ-filled life. While I was back in Ohio a few years ago, I attended the funeral of his father-in-law (One of my Dad’s best friends) who displayed the same life values. In truth, my dad was rooted in the same principles, one reason he was Deacon Emeritus of the church he was a part of.

As a Christ-follower, who I am is because of the One I follow. When I’m called home to Glory, there will be no sting because of His stain. My students might write my obituary (with a bit of AI help, don’t you know!), but I am graced by the fact that he is holding my hand for the journey.

The Outward Appearance

Posted February 21, 2025 by wordsfromww
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You don’t make your words true by embellishing them with religious lace. In making your speech sound more religious, it becomes less true. Just say ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ When you manipulate words to get your own way, you go wrong.” (Matthew 5:36-37)

Coaching basketball at the high school level this year has been challenging at times. I enjoy the time spent improving the skills and game understanding of the freshman and sophomore girls. They’ve made significant strides during the course of the last three and a half months.

One observation that has caused me to shake my head is the team tee shirts that different teams wear that say things like “Never Quit,” “No One Works Harder,” and “Hustle Defines Us.” When the game begins or the practice proceeds, it has often been my experience that the words on the shirt are in contradiction to the play or effort on the court. When little Johnny doesn’t get his shots or the amount of playing time he wants, a more accurate shirt would say, “Selfishness Defines Me” or “It’s Have Attitude Problems.”

Sometimes, the outward appearance is in sharp contrast to the reality of the situation.

Sadly, I find this is also true for a large number of churches. Sometimes, the church marquee that says “All Are Welcome” could be an antonym for what the truth is inside the doors. Grace and peace are two hopes that are often shoved to the side. Social media is the new connection piece for congregations to get their name and look out there. It’s one of the two main ways that people find a church home, the other being as a result of someone who is a part of the church and invites them to join them on a Sunday morning or Saturday night.

The outward appearance is always shiny, populated by smiling faces young and old, and committed to quality products to promote that “All are welcome here” mindset. Once in a while a church lays the truth out there right from the beginning. Like a church I know of back in Ohio that has a long list on their marquee of what defines them: King James Bible, Gospel Preaching, Soul-winning, Fundamentalist, Independent. They tell the truth right up front, more like a barbed wire fence to keep out the riff-raff.

Biblically-speaking, that’s the refreshing point of 1 Corinthians. The Apostle Paul draws a picture for us of the church at Corinth. It would make for a good reality TV series. They’re not very welcoming and considerate. They’re taking each other to court, and their sexual conduct could be defined as “steamy” at best. They’ve been prone to following personalities and displaying a kind of spiritual superiority. It’s a great depiction of what the reality of church life is sometimes.

Not that churches today should put it right out there on their sign: “We sin a lot here and do things that make Jesus cry.” Maybe a nicer way of putting the truth out there is to say something like, “Under Construction and Completely Forgiven.”

Meanwhile, I leave the gym after a game thinking the team shirts are about as accurate as the players’ three-point shooting. I think the shirt should say, “Can’t Throw It in the Ocean!” or “My parents say that defense is optional, but the offense is necessary.” Maybe one boy will have a unique, personalized shirt that says, “The Coach Doesn’t Like Me! That’s why I’m at the end of this bench!”

Those things probably won’t happen because, as we know, “The truth hurts!”

The Weirdness of Not Quite Old

Posted February 17, 2025 by wordsfromww
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It feels like I’m at the airport in Dallas on my way to Orlando. I’m no longer where I was, but I’m not quite where I’ll end up being. That’s what it feels like to be a 70-year-old substitute-teaching, basketball-coaching, novel-writing youth minister. I’m on my way to oldness, but I’m not quite there yet.

I used to have a pretty good jump shot. Now I just have a pretty good shot with two feet still firmly planted on the floor. I used to run miles around the school’s outdoor track. Now I walk a mile around the YMCA’s indoor track, which looks down on the young folk playing basketball in the gym below.

I used to craft a sermon each week for delivery on Sunday. Now I’m struggling once every two months to put all the pieces together in a way that makes sense.

It is a weird time being no longer young but not feeling like I’m quite far gone enough to be wrapped in a blanket with the footrest up and the remote control within easy reach. They say you’re as young as you feel. Somedays I feel about thirty, but other days my knees and hips tell me I’m a centenarian.

It prompts the question. Is the weirdness I ‘m feeling because it IS weird, or is it simply one of the feelings of being in the seventies-crowd? Which prompts another question that is wandering through my mind. What comes after the weirdness runs its course? Will I become a three-time a week pickle baller with a sour attitude or start wearing brown socks with khaki shorts and suspenders? When I’m eighty, if I get there, will it be even more weird than weird to still be working with young people, writing novels about middle and high school kids, and coaching basketball?

“Lord, guide me along the path of your will, even if it means I’m more weird than weird.”

Bad Wisdom

Posted February 2, 2025 by wordsfromww
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 “After the Lord had said these things to Job, he said to Eliphaz the Temanite, “I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has.” (Job 42:7)

In my seven decades I’ve run into a few people who have no common sense, and yet they seem to have this idea that wisdom is their strong suit. It’s their reason for being on earth, their calling. Following their advice would be comparable to a train being redirected onto another track that leads to disaster. A trainwreck, as we call it.

In the Old Testament the majority of the book of Job consists of Job’s “friends” giving their advice and wisdom. Think Lucy Van Pelt of the Peanuts comic strip sitting at a booth with the marquee “Psychiatric Help- 5 Cents.” Job gets peppered by Bildad, Eliphaz, and Elihu. Each takes their swings at him, trying to make him see that everything is his fault…the loss of his kids, his livestock, his servants, even the sores on his body. Job 2:11 says that they “…heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him.

It’s not that they were trying to be mean and accusatory like the senators at a Senate Hearing. His friends had already made up their minds that bad things happen to bad people or people who have done something bad. Pain and suffering were because the person had stepped out of the boundaries that God had set. Their wisdom was tainted, to begin with. They had bad theology, which always leads to wisdom that is suspect.

At the end of Job’s story, God says to Eliphaz, “I am angry with you and your two friends because you have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has.” (Job 42:7)

The harsh truth is that we live in a culture that is pimpled with bad theology and dumbed-down wisdom. We give an ear to crackpots who can be wordsmiths of ludicrousness. Since our foundational beliefs are wind-driven by the latest cultural myths, we waver and stagger aimlessly.

Job’s friends felt like he had to have an intervention to get him straightened out again. The good news is that Job was solid enough in his relationship with God that he deflected and refuted their dubious directives.

Oh, that our foundation would be solid enough to figure out what is horse manure in a culture that has lost its sense of smell.

Limiting Faithfulness

Posted January 23, 2025 by wordsfromww
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I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.  I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”
(Lamentations 3:20-24)

A long-time famous hymn, “Great Is They Faithfulness,” was sung as part of the presidential inauguration festivities. For many years, I have found myself humming the tune of that hymn. It echoes in my mind. Thomas Chisholm wrote the words to it back in 1923, sent them to William Runyan, who was a musician at Moody Bible Institute and editor of the Hope Publishing Company, who put the words to music. The hymn quickly became a favorite of MBI.

The irony, and the history we seek to ignore, is that Thomas Chisholm’s life was filled with crises and valleys. He had health issues that forced him to resign his pastor position. He had financial difficulties as a result of that. Life situations that would have made most people bitter towards God made him more dependent on God. The scripture basis for the hymn was Lamentations 3:23, a pool of hope in the midst of a lake of despair.

As the great hymn was sung this past week, it made me ponder the disturbing and annoying question that pricks me like an itchy pair of winter long johns: Are we willing to sing the hymn when things go our way, or do we have an intimacy with God that believes He is closely with us no matter what the news headlines read? Is His faithfulness evident only when we declare a victory or is it ongoing in the times of plenty and the seasons of drought?

It took the possibilities and the problems of life for Thomas Chisholm to write the hymn, not just the exaltation of a triumph.

I found it interesting that on the day of the inauguration, the College Football Championship Bowl game was played in Atlanta. When Notre Dame marched down the field on their opening drive of the game, a dominant eighteen-play series that had their quarterback, Riley Leonard, diving into the endzone for the score, the camera focused on him. Instead of a touchdown dance routine, he handed the ball to the official and gave a triumphant gesture. However, what I noticed was a scripture reference written on the white athletic tape around his right wrist. The verse was Matthew 23:12.
For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

It was a message of humility. I’m sure Riley Leonard was disappointed in Notre Dame’s loss that night. Still, I’m sure that he understood the bigger picture: God is faithful in the difficulty of the valleys as well as the exhilaration of the mountaintops.

TikTok, MLK, and Jesus

Posted January 20, 2025 by wordsfromww
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“…that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth…” (Philippians 2:10)

There was the sound of gnashing teeth and loud moaning in my youth Sunday School class yesterday. It wasn’t because of the extremely frigid temperature outside or the news of the severe famine in Somalia. In fact, most of my students don’t know where Somalia is. Instead of the cold of the Colorado morning and the malnutrition of African children, the students were weeping over the end of TikTok, or rather the end of their access to TikTok. They had been greeted with a warning that rivaled the Surgeon General’s words now printed on every pack of cigarettes, except worse. Smokers still have a choice. Tik Tok’ers don’t.

I pondered the “tearing of their cloaks” through the rest of Sunday. On Martin Luther King Day this morning, millions of African Americans remember what injustice was in life-altering ways before the Civil Rights Act. They faced much more than being unable to access videos on their cell phones. They were excluded, separated, diminished, abused, ridiculed, and characterized, at best, as second-class citizens. They didn’t have a voice, and their cries fell on deaf. After the Civil Rights Act, they still had to face oppression, exclusion, and persecution. Government legislation rarely is able to erase the hatred that is harbored in the hearts of people.

Interestingly enough, on this date in 1918, during the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia, all the places of worship were closed, and all religious instruction was outlawed. In essence, Jesus was told to take a hike from the country. Hundreds of Russian Orthodox bishops and priests were executed. Protestant Christians were imprisoned or sent to mental hospitals. Churches became the property of the government. It was a campaign to eliminate religion from Russian society.

Life is populated with injustices and adjustments. The two are often mingled into one. Because of their inconvenience, life adjustments are often characterized as injustices. Whereas, some of them could very well be, in other situations we have come to see that we are entitled to have them. For example, the uproar from students at my middle school when cell phones were banned from being used during the school day as a result of how they were impacting classroom instruction.

Meantime, injustices are often accompanied by adjustments. In Russia, the underground church developed as a result of religious persecution. The Jesus Who was told to take a hike was still a resident in the hearts and minds of His followers.

African Americans adjusted to the injustices of racial oppression by expecting it and protesting in non-violent ways about it. The images of people being beaten and churches being bombed gained a hearing from those who were appalled by the inhumanity.

I sympathize with the loss of TikTok, at least temporarily, for those who have come to use it on a daily basis. Like our expectations that the flight we booked a few months in advance will be on time and then we’re told at the airport that it has been cancelled, the inconvenience and frustration we experience makes one want to bang his head against the wall.

Head-banging and having your head banged are two different plot lines. In a way, one is self-inflicted, and the other is inflicted on us. There’s a difference. Just read what Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 11. Now, there was some serious injustice and persecution!

Reading the Wise and Passed-On

Posted January 12, 2025 by wordsfromww
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“The proverbs of Solomon son of David, king of Israel: for gaining wisdom and instruction;
    for understanding words of insight; for receiving instruction in prudent behavior,
    doing what is right and just and fair…” (Proverbs 1:1-3)

I’m reading the words of the deceased this year, those who have passed on but sought to cause us to reflect on scripture, the ways of the Lord, and the deeper truths of the Walk. I recently wrote about reading Tim Keller’s daily devotional on the Psalms (The Songs of Jesus). A friend of mine recommended Eugene Peterson’s As Kingfishers Catch Fire, so I picked up a copy and started exploring its riches. This year my study and reflection emphasis will be on those who are not concerned with selling a lot of books or being on someone’s top ten list. Like Keller and Peterson, I’m on the hunt for those who have left us but not left us empty.

Bonhoeffer’s The Cost of Discipleship sits on my shelf waiting to have its pages ruffled. Ron Sider’s Rich Christians In An Age of Hunger seems like a timely read. Actually, a re-read since I read it back in the 70s. Yoder’s The Politics of Jesus also beckons me to think of Jesus’s relationship and view of politics.

And then there’s C.S. Lewis whose books cover a wide space on one of my shelves.

All have passed on, but whose wisdom and insight still live. I’ve grown past the books that dot my shelves on church growth, church leadership, and how to tame a deacon gone ballistic. I still find myself savoring Philip Yancey’s What’s So Amazing About Grace? (but he’s still with us!) and less interested in how one speaks to younger generations without looking like an old, decrepit doofus.

In a culture that worships the latest and greatest, I’m more interested in the late departed. Keller and Tony Campolo have both passed in the last two years (Campolo last November 19 at the age of 89). The Community of Christ-followers is poorer at their loss but richer because of their ongoing impact.

Honestly, I think more about the final journey these days as I watch the list of those I have known be shifted over to the deceased column. There’s a serenity to my ponderings but an ache anchored in it as well. Like the first time I ate a poppyseed muffin, I wondered what all those specks were, and then I experienced how much they added to the bread.

As Paulo wrote to the believers in Corinth, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55)


Deep Thinking

Posted January 5, 2025 by wordsfromww
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 “Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd.  After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone.” (Matthew 14:22-23)

I’m not a philosopher. I wouldn’t even be so bold as to label myself a theologian. When I was in seminary, I’d sometimes have to resort to reading the theology of Pannenberg or Moltmann audibly in order to not go off the side of the road in mid-paragraph. Simple minds struggle with page-long paragraphs. But I struggled through it.

Ask me a history question, and there’s a much better possibility that I know the answer, even the nitty-gritty details of the occurrence. How I grow spiritually happens more in the quiet moments of contemplation rather than grabbing a theological work of Hans Kung off my bookshelf. I do better at reading a chunk of scripture and letting it roll through my mind rather than trying to read through the Bible in a year. I get lost around the time I hit Lamentations, which accurately expresses my demeanor at that time as well.

I went to the local Christian bookstore to find a yearly devotional and was amazed at the wall of possibilities but lukewarm about the product. I settled on a Tim Keller devotional, The Songs of Jesus, a devotional that focuses on the Psalms. Short readings each day that help me ponder and consider. If I can mine the riches in the Psalms this year, I’ll be blessed in more than a hundred and fifty ways. (Keller’s book, The Prodigal God, is still one of my favorites.)

The seminary professor who had the greatest impact on my life in the three years I was a student at Northern Baptist Seminary was Dr. Tom Finger, a professor of theology, who had an incredible way of making me think through why I believed what I believed. Analogy-wise, he caused me not just to dig the hole but to consider why I dug the hole in the first place.

Deep thinking requires slowing the pace, putting my cell phone in another room, maybe shutting the door, and not hurrying God to give me a pearl of wisdom. I’d be more of a swine than a follower if I did that. Deep thinking considers the grace of God from different angles, moves it around like a Rubric’s Cube that never quite gets completed.

Deep thinking looks at forgiveness and ponders how we pretend its existence and hold back on its potential. Deep thinking unmasks the tint of self-centeredness it can include while identifying the depths it can go to. It feels the ache and rejoices in the softness of its calling.

Honestly, we reside in a culture that too often is focus-deficient and swayed by how the moment feels. Our view of intimacy with God is prone to being dependent on the smoke-and-glitter of the last praise song. That sounds cynical because it is. I just wonder (There I go again!) if the Almighty would sometimes like to speak to us in the deepness of silence.

Lock-In Looney

Posted December 31, 2024 by wordsfromww
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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, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” (Acts 2:46-47)

My wife, Carol, reminded me that I’m not any spring chicken and that BYF (Baptist Youth Fellowship) is a few decades in my rearview mirror. The initials that more accurately apply to me these days are AARP. Nevertheless, I planned the youth lock-in at church for Saturday evening through Sunday morning, an 18-hour marathon fueled by two pots of coffee.

Why, you might ask just as Carol did, would I not only agree to but plan and encourage a lock-in for young people whose objective is to run the whole race of insomnia? After all, the last youth lock-in I headed up was in 1983 at the First Baptist Church of Lansing, Michigan. I can still remember the names of the excited kids: Steve Landon, Laurie Landon, Shirl Kentner, Jon Daniels, Jimmy Michels, Greg Nash, Michele Nash, Brian Baker, Becky Epps, Suzy Epps, Sara Epps, Becky Landon, Jenny Landon, Rachel Knox, John Girard, Phil Girard, and on and on. Perhaps the fond memories made me jump off the cliff for another go-around at lunacy.

Or maybe I remember how spending several hours together ended up being a bonding experience for the adolescents who came. It wasn’t like coming to church on Sunday with their families and being amongst a congregation of mostly older people. During that lock-in, they were the church, the Body of Christ, freed up to participate in the silliness of teenagers, talk about the topics of their world, and be who they were without feeling like someone was looking over their shoulder all the time. They could even run in the building and laugh long and loud.

In essence, this lock-in forty-one years later mirrored the one in 1983. Bonding and hilarious hysteria abounded. They enjoyed themselves and even settled down to focus on what they hope the Lord will do in their lives in the coming year. We shared communion together around midnight before doing something you can only do at a youth lock-in…watch “The Princess Bride” on the big screen in the sanctuary while munching on popcorn and drinking Coca-Cola (with caffeine!). At 4:30, we played the fast-paced group game that Jim Berlage taught us back in the 80s, “Mr. Boodle.” We went for a solid hour, and my voice began to give out at 5:30. They begrudgingly agreed to stop, and for almost an hour and a half, a silence settled over those who had been fighting the sleepies. I even grabbed forty minutes lying on a thin pew cushion with chiropractor implications.

The senior pastor, Dan Schumacher, and I have both discussed what we realize, and that is that only a clueless clergyperson would think that a thirty-minute sermon on a Sunday morning would be able to take care of the spiritual nourishment of a teenager. In fact, not just teens but anybody connected to a congregation. Okay, put another thirty minutes of prayer, singing, and sharing communion there. Even an hour of the community in worship doesn’t do it.

Young people need time together to bond. It is not a weekly lock-in, mind you! I can only do two pots of coffee every once in a while. Rather, occasional gatherings that create a fabric of caring, laughing, and being comfortable in the presence of their peers. It’s the youth equivalent of the early church.

And now, I’m working on building up my immune system for a weekend winter retreat. A good forty-two hours in a remote location where I pray there are shower facilities for the boys. A retreat with scented candles is one thing, but aromatic boys could be the death of me.