Thoughts on God and Pain

I recently celebrated a significant anniversary. You see, on my 16th birthday my father set me on a path that would lead to my independence. He threw me out of his house. Actually he told me that he wanted me gone before he woke up the next morning. My mother had left him just a few weeks before and I guess he decided that he didn't need me any more than he needed her. What did I do? I bought a plane ticket and flew from Phoenix, AZ back to Little Rock, AR. My mother was in Little Rock and my natural instinct was to go to her. Two weeks later she announced to me that she was going to California and she wasn't taking me with her. Those events took place 33 years ago.


Please allow me to backtrack and tell you that I wasn't a bad kid, in fact, I would like to think that most parents would have been glad to have me. I was a good student, went to church, and had never been in any trouble. I didn't smoke or drink or chew and didn't go with girls that did either. I was no saint, to be sure, but I wasn't trouble either.


I wish I could tell you that I was prepared for my abandonment and that I handled it like it was any other event in my life....But I didn't. To be honest, I wasn't surprised, but I still had a real hard time accepting that my parents didn't want me, and by extension didn't love me. My love for my parents was real, even though I knew that they weren't exactly Bob and Carol Brady. My home life was filled with violence and abuse of every kind. I learned very early on to discern the proper times to be at home and the times to be gone, which was often. I used to joke that I could spend a week on Oprah and not exhaust the stories, the problem is that it wasn't a joke. The safety net didn't catch me....and I paid a price. I grew up lonely and fearful. My parents drilled into me three primary lessons about who I was: 1. I was a mistake, 2) I was ugly, and 3) No one would ever love me. I carried those lessons for a long time and can even hear their whispers as I write these words.


Life was hard. But it was still life, and I'm grateful for those lessons, no matter how hard they were to learn. I only wish I had learned their lessons sooner. But I have and live with no regrets. I can, from this vantage point, look back and see the hand of God protecting, guiding, and strengthening me throughout those long and lonely years. I wish I could say that I was always aware of His presence, but my lack of understanding doesn't negate the work He did in my life all those years ago. His ways are seldom understandable to our minds.


I recently listened to a program for pastors on CD-Rom and I heard the statement "God doesn't wast pain." I was so profoundly impacted by that statement that I actually hit the back button three times to hear it again and again. God doesn't waste pain. God is with His children in every situation, whether we can see Him or not. There is nothing that takes Him by surprise or causes Him to alter His plan. God actually brings good out of the pain of our lives. I have come to a point in my life where I can truly thank God for those dark times in life. I have known abuse of every type, abandonment, death. I have been wrongly accused, fired, and been viciously attacked by those with nothing more that a dislike for me. And God has known about every situatin before they happene and has not wasted any of my pain.


In my pain God has taught me about love and faith. Fear and courage. True strength and the value of weakness. Through defeat and loss I have learned that God keeps a different type of score than I do. I have come to appreciate God's ways whether I like them or not, whether they make sense to me or leave me utterly confused. I have learned that I am not first and I've learned to be okay with that. Those thoughts are completely foreign to most believers today, but they weren't lost on the early church or the great saints of the past. Could it be that believers today are unaware of this truth? It is true that we don't hear much preaching today about self denial or dying to self, or is the issue one of unwillingness to sacrifice our desires and comfort for the sake of the cross?


One of my favorite men in the Bible learned that God doesn't waste pain. His name is Joseph. Joseph knew rejection by family, false accusations, deprivation, and loneliness. But Joseph learned that God used all of that pain to prepare him for something far more important than his personal happiness. Thanks, Joseph, for giving me an example. Thank you God for using my pain to make me more than I could be by myself. I fully realize that I've failed far more than I've succeeded, but even in my failures you've not wasted by pain. May you give me enough wisdom to learn from those lessons as well.

Lessons from a Piano Player

Today started out as one of those days. I prayed very specifically for someone only to find later that they were experiencing the very thing that I had asked God to deliver them from. This was followed by a trip to the mechanic. I recently had a pretty significant amount of work done on our Suburban. With six kids we naturally require a larger vehicle and the Suburban fills the bill nicely. On a trip to the closest Sam's yesterday I noticed that the truck was running hot. The repair work that we recently had done all had to do with the cooling system. I reasoned that it was merely a minor adjustment to one of the previous repairs. But it wasn't. While still unsure as to the true nature of the problem we are faced with the possibility that we may have to replace the engine. I don't know anyone for whom that expense wouldn't be prohibitive. All this before 8am.


My day then took me to the hospital, where I stood by the bedside of an Alzheimer's patient. The disease has robbed this person's family of a parent. This person was unaware of my presence but appeared full of despair. My heart breaks for their family and for the patient. The other visits were not as difficult, but taxing all the same. Everyone looks to a pastor for understanding and comfort, yet they are unaware of the cost these demand of the human agent involved. Hospitals are by their nature places of great stress and emotional upheaval.


My next trip took me to the nursing home. I must confess to you that nursing homes are not my favorite places to visit. A bad experience at a nursing home as a child still has a profound effect on me today. But I have learned to deal with my discomfort. The first place I always check for the person I came to see is the dining room. I found her there taking part in a worship service being held by a local church. As I came into the dining room the first thing I noticed was the piano. The woman playing the piano was in her 60's but she played with the energy and enthusiasm of someone a third her age. The music was infectious and joyful and I enjoyed it as much as the residents. It was uplifting to see and hear her play.


But the blessings did not stop there. After a testimony time a woman using an oxygen tank shared a devotional message. I honestly cannot tell you much of what she said, but I can tell you that she made this statement: Without the mountain you have no testimony. When I heard those words it was as if the Lord had slapped me on the side of the head and said "See, there's a purpose in all this." I don't know about you, but I need to be reminded every now and then that God really is in control. Somewhere in the course of the morning I had become overwhelmed by the hurt and struggle all around me. Coupling that with the unpleasant possibilities with the car and I found it easy to think that God had somehow forgotten my situation.


Without the mountain you have no testimony. How easy is it to forget the truth of those words. She went on to say that we shouldn't pray that God would move the mountain but that we should pray for strength to climb the mountain. There are people all around us who need to see that God can and does give us the strength to climb the mountains of our lives, whether they are financial, health, or spiritual mountains. I should have remembered that and I'm more than a little embarassed to admit that I had allowed myself to forget it. In my years in ministry (30 years come November) I have met many people who thought their pastors could make no mistakes...I'm sure I've disappointed all of them. But I'm also certain that God has provided the strength to climb every mountain.


As I thought about that this morning I thought about the piano player. She had seen much trouble in her life, I'm sure, but there she was playing with a passion and a joy that told me that she understood that there was a purpose in the mountains she had faced. She had learned the truth of God's presence and the strength he provides on the mountains. She reminded me that cars, health and church are all under his dominion. The may be mountains to me, but they are opportunities for God to prove his faithful love for me.


Thank you ladies....God used you to redeem my day.

A Pastor Lets Off Some Steam

I never cease to be amazed by the brazen hypocrisy of people. Recently three politicians have been in the news for revelations that are embarrassing to say the least, but whose subsequent actions are truly incredible. I will deal with these fine examples of leadership one at a time and then attempt to make sense of it all.

First on our list is the honorable (what an embarrassment to use the word) Mark Sanford, governor of the fine state of South Carolina. The good governor didn't have the good sense to keep his pants on....even to the point that he made numerous trips to South America to see his "soul mate." Never mind the fact that his "soul mate" (how I hate using that phrase) is not his wife or the mother of his children. This disgusting example of all that's wrong with modern manhood then had the nerve to announce that he would not resign the governorship. I'm not from South Carolina, but I cannot imagine that Gov. Sanford is an accurate reflection of the fine people that he serves as governor.

Then there's Bob McDonnell, the republican candidate for the governorship of Virginia. Mr. McDonnell wrote a Master's thesis some twenty years ago in which he had the gall to say extreme things like the feminist movement is harmful to families, governmental policy should protect and promote traditional families, and criticize a Supreme Courth ruling that there is a legal right for single persons to receive government funded contraception. Now before you go join the local lynch mob that is looking for Mr. McDonnell you should be aware that Mr. McDonnell has been backing away from these "radical" positions faster than a crawdad on steroids.

But wait....in the interest of fairness (Mrs. Sanford and McDonnell are Republicans) I must point out none other than the tax man himself. Rep. Charles Rangle of the 15th district of New York. Rep. Rangle, who is the chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee has seriously underestimated his income, gotten sweetheart deals on houses, and conveniently failed to disclose his ownership of a posh getaway place in the Dominican Republic! Oh, I almost forgot...He also gave large cash donations to three members of the House Ethics Committee just before they investigated him! Did I mention that Rep. Rangle is the chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee? Did you know that committee oversees the IRS?

My greatest problem with each of these men is that they have forsaken, in order, their marriage vows, their personal conviction of what is truth, and the law and constitution of the United States. I suppose the argument could be made that we can't expect anyone in our multi-cultural, post-modern society to be faithful to their wedding vows, understanding of truth, or even the constitution that they have sworn to uphold and protect. What's next...math that lets 2+2 = 7? Don't laugh, I was alive when "new math" was introduced!

But before I leave behind this motley crew I have to add some more members. Today I wish to nominate church members. I realize that I have just offended a whole lot of people. I'm not talking about those faithful, gracious saints who love God and the church. I'm talking about those folks who fuss over things like the color of carpet, the music style or even what the preacher is preaching. I have heard all of these complaints throughout my years as a minister. A selfishness has invaded the church that is destroying it from the inside out.

Folks, IT SHOULD NOT MATTER what color the carpet is or what style the music is (as long as the lyrics are theologically accurate and pleasing to God) or even what book of the Bible is preaching from. Mature believers realize that church is not about buildings or music or liking either the preacher or what he's preaching....Church is about loving God and serving others...I think Jesus called those two the greatest commandments!

Yet our churches continue to be consumed by materialism, commercialism, and selfishness. Is it any wonder that our altars are empty, our youth are wayward, and the world discounts us? I

give thanks to God for the faithful few who get it.

"In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes."

Andy Warhol

Andy Warhol spoke those words in 1968. I don't believe he had any idea how ferociously we as a culture would embrace his idea. The proliferation of "reality" tv has turned most of us into instant celebrities or shameless voyuers of a sort unimaginable fifty years ago. This has been driven home to me powerfully over the last two months, and sadly reinforced over the past week.

In between the incessant speculation concerning Michael Jackson's death (was it murder?) and burial (when and where?) there was a gruesome murder in San Diego. A body was discovered in a suitcase, mutilated beyond normal means of indentification. The victim was later identifited as Jasmine Fiore, a swimsuit model. Her husband (former, ex, there is some debate over the true nature of their relationship), Ryan Jenkins fled to Canada where he was later found dead by his own hand. It is a sad commentary on the sensibilities of our culture that this gruesome crime was deemed newsworthy not because of the act of murder, but because the dead woman was a swimsuit model and the suspected killer was a reality TV show contestant.

Jenkins mutilated Fiore's body beyond normal recognition in an attempt to thwart police. His gruesome work failed when authorities used serial numbers from Fiore's breast implants to establish her identity. I must confess to reading the story more than once because I was unaware that implants had serial numbers and was gripped by more than a little disbelief at how anyone would know to look for them. Jenkin's suicide means that we will never know the reasons for his horrific act, and we will never know what transpired in the final hours of a young womans' life.

Unfortunately Fiore's death also requires that we pause and consider what passes for beauty in our culture. Why did Ms. Fiore feel the need to alter her body? Would her life have turned out any differently had she not chosen to have appearance altering surgery? We will probably never know. It is a sad fact that some three hundred thousand woman choose to have breast augmentation surgery each year. This number includes those who suffer from diseasses such as breast cancer, but the ones who receive the publicity, and those who have most of the procedures performed are those who have the surgery done for purely cosmetic reasons. As the father of two daughters I am greatly concerned over the messages our culture sends to young women concerning their bodies.

When did it become acceptable, even desirable, for women to mutilate their bodies? I thought the sexual liberation of the 1960's and the feminist movement of the 1970's did away with the objectification of women. It it a damning indictment of our culture that women are still more valued for their physical appearance than for their abilities. It is even more disturbing that young women today are willingly, even enthusiastically, pursuing such a course of action. Men are rapidly joining women in this race for perfection. But women remain the primary pursurers of surgical augmentation, and it's primary victims.

I did not fall in love with the woman who is my wife because she had a perfect body or was more beautiful than anyone else. I fell in love with the person behind the outward appearance. She was, and is, witty, strong, opinionated, and passionate. Those things attracted me to her then and still powerfully attract me to her now. When and where did we lose the understanding of true beauty? Does anyone care? It certainly seems that Hugh Hefner and the power brokers behind "adult" entertainment don't. Nor does it seem that fashion designers and marketers. The internet and entertainment mediums share in the guilt as well, perhaps even moreso because they are the primary promoters through their websites and programming. These all share a portion of the blame for this objectification of women. The pursuit of our 15 minutes of fame has cheapened and degraded us all.

God made each one of us. The Psalmist recognized that each of us is "fearfully and wonderfully made (see Psalm 139:14)." That means that God recognizes the wonder and the beauty of all of us just as we are. His love for us is not conditioned on perfect bodies or faces, but conditioned on who God is and the love and grace he extends to us through His Son. We don't have to alter our bodies to earn that love. Why do we settle for something far less? And yet we do, from Rogaine to Botox, from tanning beds to liposuction. All our attempts to find perfection only mask the true beauty of who we are and blind us from knowing true love and its author.

You can have my 15 minutes....if that's fame, I don't want it.

The Valley of the Shadow of Death

Still fumbling with the shoe covers, I stumbled into the delivery room. What confronted me there took my breath away. There to my left lay my wife, holding her hand out to me, seeking my comfort. My newborn son lay on a warming table to my right. I stood frozen between the two, uncertain where I should be. As I stood watching my son I saw his tiny arms and legs twitch once and then again. Then before my eyes he went still. My son Jonathan died that moment, and something inside of me died that day too.



Those events took place August 12, 1987, twenty-two years ago today. I was 26 years old, old enough to know that life was hard, but young enough to still believe that I could change the world. I could never have guessed that this would not be the only time I would see a newborn son die. My son Timothy died in March of 1989. Throughout all of the things that I have seen and experienced in my life these are the darkest days of all. There has never been anything so hard, so devastating, so lonely.



We fear nothing more than death. Death is seen as the end of all things, the termination of not just life but also of anything associated with the one who dies. Death is a thief who takes from us that which is not his. We see death as an enemy, a mindless monster driven only by blind instinct. Death to most is a thing to be avoided at all costs.

The death of a child is the most awful thing I have ever known, easily surpassing any and all of the other struggles of my life. When a child dies there is the loss of hope, the loss of dreams. The death of a child leaves a gaping wound that defies our attempts at healing, taunting us as we see others enjoying what we have lost. I have known all of these things through the loss of not one but two sons.

Death can be overcome, not in a physical sense, but in the heart and spirit, the emotion and will. My wife and I took years to find healing, in many respects that healing is still in progress, but we are healing. Johnathan and Timothy taught me that death is a part of life and by embracing their deaths I have come to be more whole. I have learned that death is not permanent, that there is a part of each of us that lives on. As a Christian I have always believed in eternity, but the deaths of my sons drove me to delve more deeply into the question than cliches and simple, yet misguided answers. The truth is that not only do my sons live in my heart and memory, they live in heaven in the presence of God.

Death is not the end of dreams. I have come to understand that God desires to use me to bring comfort to others who have experienced death. Death does not bring an end to life for those left behind but it does require a reassessment of those things we consider important. Too many of us expect (actually it's closer to demand) that life should unfold according to our desires. We seldom consider the cost of the lives we desire. Death guides us all to reexamine priorities, desires, hopes, and goals. Through the process of grief we can come to better understand what proper priorities should be and how our lives can be more in line with the will of God.

Death is never meaningless. The death of children never makes sense, whether those children are infants or teens. There comes with death overwhelming emotions that cause us to doubt that God is in control of the events of this life. But nothing is farther from the truth. God is in control and death is neither out of His control or beyond His purposes. It is true that we may not find the answers we want in this lifetime, but we can be assured that God has a reason and purpose for permitting death to take a loved one. I have come to understand that my own life before the deaths of my sons, filled with abuse and neglect, was a preparation for learning to deal with the terrible aftermath of death. I have seen that death is not an end but the beginning of a new aspect of life, one with greater meaning and purpose. My own journey from death back to life has shown me the power of God to redeem the most terrible tragedy.

Johnathan and Timothy have bypassed the troubles and struggles of this life. They enjoy the presence of God the Father rather than struggle with the failings of their earthly father. Their deaths, while still painful to recall, have made me a stronger, more faithful man. I thank God not only for them but also for the lessons their deaths taught me.

The Harry Potter and the Supreme Court

I recently went to the movies (one of my favorite pastimes) and saw "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince." I must confess that I have read all but the last of the Harry Potter books and have seen all of the movies. It's not that I'm a great fan of either the books or the movies, but I invest my time in them precisely because they are so popular. There is great power in the media, the type of power that was once the exclusive province of the printed word, power to shape minds and attitudes. As a parent and a concerned Christian I feel an obligation to understand what's being promoted philosophically to the wider culture. Call me what you will, but I don't trust the culture to promote what's best for anyone, especially my kids. But I digress...

I found the "Half-Blood Prince" to be visually entertaining, well-paced and for the most part well acted (Not that I'm Siskel or Ebert, mind you). If your idea of entertainment is to spend 2 1/2 hours in a darkened room unplugged from your world then "Half-Blood Prince" will fill the bill nicely. But there is a troubling aspect to the world of Harry Potter that unfortunately has an all to real counterpart to our world.

The Harry Potter stories, at their core, are morality stories. They are about self-discovery, overcoming loss, friendship, and right and wrong. That's precisely where Harry Potter falters and exposes the bankruptcy of the world of Hogwarts. The Harry Potter stories are morality stories with no moral center. In Harry Potter's world there is deception, manipulation, and the taking of life, and ambition among other things. I can hear some asking "How's that different from our world?" The answer lies in the fact that in our world there is, or used to be, a moral foundation that delineated right and wrong, truth and falsehood and other essential fundamentals. This moral foundation provides (or provided) the parameters within which civilization could reasonably operate and made possible the concepts of personal responsibility and social order. While it is true that these concepts exist in the fictional world or Harry Potter, they are not and cannot be sustained because there is no moral foundation upon which they rest. Thus civilization becomes the Darwinian ideal of "survival of the fittest."

By now you're probably wondering what any of this has to do with the Supreme Court. Since you asked....

A radio news report today announced that the Supreme Court has agreed to hear a suit challenging the legality of a cross shaped monument in the Mojave Desert. The cross, originally erected by a veteran's organization as a part of a memorial to those who died in defense of their country, has been at the center of an eight year long legal battle concerning the "separation of church and state." What's really at state in all this dust up is the moral center of American culture. If the ACLU and their friends get their way not only will public expressions of morality (don't let the drape of religion fool you, this is about the destruction of morality) be outlawed, but eventually the very concept of an overarching moral code will be swept away in favor of a do-it-yourself, make it up as you go along kind of morality.

When, and if, that happens our world will certainly be a mirror image of Harry Potter's world where there is virtually no difference between right and wrong. The Bible tells us that during the time of the Judges that everyone did what was 'right in their own eyes" (see Judges 21:25), which is a prescription for disaster.

Sadly, this is already true for too many who call themselves Christians. As Paul wrote, they have a "form of godliness" but deny its power (2 Timothy 3:5). A Christian who pays only lip service to the Word of God is really nothing more than an unbeliever in church clothing. We cannot simply pick and choose what we will follow and disregard the rest. The Bible is either the Word of God in its entirety or it's nothing but empty words. Could that be part of the reason that it's almost impossible to tell the difference between most "Christians" and the unbelieving world around them?

Something to think about.

Lessons Learned?

The recent deaths of Michael Jackson, the "King of Pop," and Steve "Air" McNair, former professional football player highlight the bankruptcy of American culture. Death has a way of bringing out the worst in us, not that many of us need any help in revealing our dark side. While in graduate school I worked for three years in a funeral home and saw first hand the effect that death has on every strata of our culture. Sadly, the deaths of the rich and famous are more often than not opportunity for spectacle and aggrandizement than serious introspection.

The Michael Jackson memorial service is a prime example of spectacle and aggrandizement. From parading elephants to parading people in various degrees of costume, Jackson's service had it all. There were widespread reports of ticket scalping. The speakers all praised Jackson, speaking in glowing terms. The crowds outside were filled with people who spoke of Jackson's effect on their life. My question throughout all this praise: What did Michael Jackson do to merit such effusive praise?

I mean no disrespect, but Michael Jackson made no great discoveries, found no cure for any diseases, did not pour out his life helping others. Michael Jackson's greatest contribution to the human race was his album "Thriller."Michael Jackson spent his life in a constant state of turmoil, as evidenced by his bizarre behavior and choices. Jackson himself once bemoaned the fact that he did not have a normal childhood, a regret that seemed to exercise immense control over the rest of his life. I do not deny his talent, but I wonder if that talent improved our world or the plight of anyone in it. All Jackson's millions and all his fame will have no lasting impact on the world.

Steve McNair was a great football player, and by all accounts a good man. He rose above his own difficult circumstances to make something of himself. Yet when the cheering stopped McNair seemed to have trouble adjusting to the mundane life that the rest of us live. McNair, the married father of four sons, had a very troubling relationship with a young woman almost half his age. It seems that this relationship cost McNair his life. I wonder why McNair could not honor his vows to his wife or his responsibility to his sons. McNair lost his life...his family lost far more.

I realize that my opinion concerning McNair is not popular, not that I care about being popular, but I refuse to excuse his choices simply because he was a great football player. I also refuse to rationalize his failures because he was a man or, as one columnist has said, a black man. Manhood, fatherhood, the commitment to your wife are all more important than the need to feel valued or manly. Mr. McNair, at least for me, forever tarnished his legacy and reputation. One man's need to relive the glory days has left four boys without a father.

Michael Jackson's fame and fortune. Steve McNair's fame and physical ability. Neither man found the answers that he sought. They both died tragically, but perhaps more tragically is that fact that they are not alone. So many of us hope to find the answers to our longings in fame, fortune or physical conquest. But there is no hope to be found in any of those things. They are all fleeting. At best fame and fortune are illusions, diverting us from the real answers for an all too brief time and leaving a greater longing than existed before.

Mr. Jackson and Mr. McNair have already learned the truth...Will we learn the truth before it's too late?