Rainy Days and Mondays

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down....

(The Carpenters)

I'm generally a pretty positive person, there's not much that gets me down. But every once in a while I find myself in a funk. Many seem to think that pastors should never feel discouraged or lonely or have questions about their faith or the direction of their lives....Boy are those people wrong. 

I don't mean to burst your bubble...but pastors have the same struggles, the same concerns, and the same temptations as the rest of the members of their churches. I may be the only pastor to admit it, but on many Mondays I'm ready to write "I Quit" on my forehead and have even written out a letter of resignation more than once. Now before you panic (or celebrate) unnecessarily....I have never tendered a resignation (officially or unofficially) on a Monday. I love preaching and I love the church. The ministry is what I have been called to and all I have done since I was 19. I may not be very good at it, but it's who I am.

Then why the struggle on Mondays?

Very simply.....I'm human. I grow tired, distracted, discouraged and confused just like anyone else. The pedestal that pastors are placed on and the pressures and expectations we labor under can rob the joy from us on any day. Add to that the burden of caring for a congregation of any size and you have a recipe for difficulty. It is a simple truth that every minister can and will grow weary under the load. 

Then why do I keep coming back? 

Because I'm called. This is what God has called me to do. I can do nothing else and be in the center of His will for my life. Besides that, I love it. I believe in the church, that messy bunch of people who drive me crazy most Sundays and who wake me in the middle of the night to pray and weep over. I willingly accepted the task and the responsibility when I said yes to God's call all those years ago. I had an idea of what the life I was signing up for would be like, but I was unprepared for much than followed. Like many others, I have been tempted at times to walk away, but at the end of the day I cannot. I am called and I will serve until I die or until God calls me to another avenue of ministry. 

So why this post?

I want to encourage the 4 of you who might actually read this blog to commit yourselves to become champions for your pastor and other ministers. The ministry is a lonely profession, but it doesn't have to be. I want to encourage you to spend time in the days ahead to encourage, cheer on, and surprise your pastor. A kind phone call in the middle of the week. An encouraging note dropped in the mail or placed in an office door. A small monetary gift slipped into his pocket...any of these things will go a long way toward helping your pastor stay the course. 

I've gone on too long already. Some would say that I've said too much.  What I have done is speak my heart and managed to make it through an extremely difficult Monday without writing "I Quit" on my forehead...

At least until next Monday.

A Loss Too Great to Overcome?

As anyone who has ever read this blog will tell you,  I have a keen interest in politics. I am independent, but with a definitively conservative leaning. I even have a brief flirtation with elected office in my past. Yes, I once attempted to gain elected office. (I ran for governor of Boys State in 1977....finished 4th in my party primary. I ran on a platform of government owned by  and for the citizenry) My failure to advance out of that primary pretty much spelled the end of my political aspirations, but not my interest.

The current government shutdown is, in my opinion, a laughable example of what is wrong and broken in this country. I am sick and tired of the self-aggrandizement and outright lying that is fed the American people daily during this charade. The government shutdown and looming debt ceiling "crisis" reveals a system that is broken, a people who have lost their moral center, and leaders who are anything but. Perhaps I should speak plainly....Our country, once great, has become a shadow of its former self.

It is politics that I want to speak of today, or rather politicians. I am of the belief that politicians have become the scourge of our country. I have no use for politicians of either party. If I had my druthers every last one of them....Democrat, Republican and independent would be voted out of office tomorrow and not permitted to run for office again...ever, period. What this country needs, in my opinion, are statesmen.

A statesman is not obligated to any special interest group or particular block of voters. The statesman votes according to his belief in what is best for the country, whether it gains him or her any electoral advantage or not. The political process has become corrupted by special interests on both sides....rendering either side incapable of speaking honestly or governing effectively. A statesman does not think of advancing one's personal fortune or portfolio and returns home when their job is done.

In my opinion, not one of the current group of "leaders" in Washington meets the previously mentioned criteria. There is not a single man or woman in Washington who merits mention in the same sentence as giants such as Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln. The whole lot of them do not deserve the privilege of representing the people of this nation.

Many of you reading this will consider me angry, they are right. The current crop of disappointments in Washington have made me angry. They have mortgaged the future of this once great country and saddled my children with a debt that their children will never be able to pay, among other acts of unbelievable hubris. Someone needs to remind them of these words from the Declaration of Independence:

"Government of the people, by the people, and for the people..."

I want my country back.

A Tale of Two Legacies

If one ever needed evidence that our culture has lost its collective minds one only has to turn on the sports news over the last 48 hours. Two things have transpired that reveal the dark underbelly of who we have become as a culture and as a people.

Former world heavyweight champion boxer "Smokin" Joe Frazier died Monday night at the age of 67. Frazier had only recently been diagnosed with liver cancer, dying only about a month following his diagnosis. I remember watching Frazier box in the 60's and 70's. I was always impressed by his style...a straight forward, never back down approach that endured a great deal of punishment but somehow managed to come out on top. Something about Frazier resonated in me...and I became a fan. I wasn't a fan of boxing as much as I was a fan of Joe Frazier, the way he handled himself; the way he refused to back down; the way he won.

Frazier wasn't perfect, far from it. His greatest struggle was found not in the ring but in his heart in the years after his career had ended. Muhammad Ali waged psychological war against Frazier in the weeks leading up to their first fight. The damage done to Frazier by Ali's words was far greater than the physical punishment that Ali visited upon him. It took yeas for this quiet man of dignity to overcome the hatred that he carried in his heart towards Ali. Frazier won his greatest battle when he overcame that hatred. He accomplished what few persons are able to do...he overcame himself.

I wish I could end this commentary with Joe Frazier, but I can't. On the same day that the death of Frazier broke another man died in a sense. That man is Joe Paterno, longtime coach of the Penn State football team. Paterno has long been regarded as one of the finest men in all of sports. He was placed on a pedestal, an example of what was right in sports.

But Paterno's legacy, if not dead, is surely mortally wounded. The story that broke over the weekend involved the actions of Paterno's long time assistant coach. The man is alleged to have sexually assaulted boys as young as 10 years old over an extended period of time. The most damning of the allegations, as they pertain to Paterno, is that Paterno had knowledge of the assistant's behavior and reported it to his superiors...and then did nothing. It is a coward's excuse to say that Paterno fulfilled his obligation when he informed his superiors. His obligation was not to the school or to his assistant: his obligation was to protect the 10 year old boy who was the victim  of the assault. Paterno has kept his silence in the years since, but now the cat is out of the bag.

Paterno may never face any legal accountability for his actions, but his legacy is tarnished forever. Paterno was respected as a man of character, integrity, and a leader of men. But a leader of men doesn't sit silently  and allow the kind of behavior that Paterno was aware of. Even if this was the only incident that Paterno knew about it was enough. He should have pursued the incident and ensured that this man would never have the opportunity to abuse a young boy again.

Joe Frazier and Joe Paterno.....one overcame a heart filled with hate and created a legacy that will live beyond his years. The other destroyed his legacy for reasons known only to him and will find out that the price was far too great, whatever it was.

Remembering Amanda

Amanda Prewitt Doss along with her two children were killed recently. The killer set fire to the house after fact in what I'm guessing was an attempt to conceal his crime. This is a tragedy in any sense of the word. Whatever Amanda had done in her life she did not deserve to have her life brutally taken from her in that way.

I'm writing about this because I knew Amanda. She was a member of our youth ministry at FBC Redwater, TX in the late 1980's. Amanda was very bright and well spoken. Quick witted and inquisitive, Amanda kept me on my toes. She made me laugh.

My fondest memory of Amanda will always be the love acceptance she extended to another teenager when he first came to church. The young man had a bad reputation, but that didn't stop Amanda from placing his name on our youth prayer list. No one was more surprised than I was when the young man came to our revival services a short time later. I was on the platform when he came in. Amanda looked back and moved to go sit with him. She walked with him down the aisle that night when he came to confess his new found faith in Jesus.

I regret that I fell out of touch with Amanda in the years that followed. I'm sure her life was filled with the struggles that plague us all, but if I knew Amanda she found a way to make her life and the lives of those around her better. She wasn't perfect, but she had that way about her.

The world is a dangerous place. Terrorists ply their trade with deadly effectiveness. Natural disasters remind us that we are not as in control as we'd like to think. Everyday is filled with dangers and trouble. It's enough to make you lock yourself behind barred windows and high fences.

But I choose not to.

I believe that God is truly in control of all things. I accept that all these happenings are a part of His greater plan and purposes. I may not understand the "why" but I do believe that there is a purpose being played out. I also know from personal experience that He is with those who grieve and mourn and weep. Amanda told me how she came to faith in Jesus all those years ago and I hold to that confession for the hope that I will one day see her again.

Amanda has exchanged this flawed, imperfect world for the presence of God.

For Allison

Last Saturday was a very trying day for me. That morning I watched as my wife and daughter both ran a 10K race (that's 6.2 miles for the uninitiated....and yes, I had to ask!) and then that evening my daughter graduated from high school. I watched two of the most important women in my life accomplish some pretty cool stuff.

Over the course of the last few months I've become very much aware of the passages of life. My daughter can now say that she can run 6.2 miles AND is a high school graduate. I actually think that she's prouder of the distance running than the graduation. But to me the significance is that she is moving into the adult world...a world that I'm not sure is ready for her.

Allison, I wish you every happiness and joy. I know that hard times and struggles will come to your life as they do for all of us, but I pray that you'll find the never ending joy of Christ in each of those moments. Your mother and I have done everything we can to prepare you for the possibilities of life, but no one can truly prepare you. There is much that you will have to come to grips with on your own. Please never forget the faith that you profess or the one in whom you have placed that faith.

You are stronger than you realize, both physically and spiritually. But never let your strength make you feel sufficient. Lean on His wisdom and love for you, allowing His Spirit to fill you and guide you. Only in the surrender to His will can you find peace and direction and wisdom.

I will never forget the day when you were four that you told me that you didn't need my help. My heart broke that day and I shed tears over what those words meant. The day is drawing ever closer when those words will be truer than either of us could realize. I must trust the Lord to guide you when I cannot. My prayer is that you will trust Him as well.

I love you.

Thoughts on Providence

If you are a facebook friend or a follower of my blog you know that I have struggled over the last several months with extremely serious heart problems. These problems culminated in triple-bypass surgery, a defibrillator implanted in my chest and a stent following a minor heart attack in January. Needless to say, life has been "interesting." I have become accustomed to my own mortality and resigned to the fact that the rest of my days would be a struggle with pain and fatigue.

But it turns out that I was wrong.

Yesterday I was given some of the best news I've had since my wife said "yes" all those years ago. My heart function has improved to the point that it is now considered normal. I am not considered to be suffering from congestive heart failure at this time. How did this happen? We could talk about my commitment to exercise and a better diet or the medicines doing their job or any number of factors. But I believe the real answer came from something that was not said in the clinic yesterday....The Nurse Practitioner pointed to the sky and said "It means that there's a purpose for you to still be here..." She was completely right.

I recently performed a funeral for a man four years younger than myself. He dropped dead from a heart attack. No warning, no symptoms. He was here one moment and gone the very next. That situation was hard on me....knowing that there was no reason why that shouldn't have been me. But God has a purpose for keeping me here.

God has a purpose...That's an interesting thought. So much of life seems random and meaningless. The images coming from Japan shake us with their scope and starkness. Can there be any purpose in such devastation? I have quite a bit of experience with devastation, especially on an emotional level and I want to tell you that there is a purpose in it, and that good can and does come from it. As a Christian I believe that God is using all of the events in my life to mold my character into a better reflection of Him. People talk all the time about wanting to die well....I want to live well. I want people to look back at my life and be able to clearly see a love and devotion to God that filled and directed every decision, every action, every word and thought. I figure that will insure dying well.

God has granted me a healing that I never asked for and never thought I would receive. I am grateful beyond words, but I hope that the life I've lived over the last few months was a witness enough of God's power to sustain us even when life isn't what we'd hoped or bargained for.

Perhaps someday I'll understand God's purpose for this season of my life...not that it really matters if I do or not. What matters is that I use this season in a way that brings glory to Him. That's the only purpose that really matters.

For the son I never held

Monday was one of those days that has a deeper, more profound impact on you than you realize. The impact was not from anything that happened during the day itself, but something that happened a long time ago. Twenty-two years ago Monday my second son Timothy was born. He lived only minutes and then joined his brother Johnathan in heaven. I never saw Timothy alive, a fact that haunts me to this day.

Johnathan's death was sudden and unexpected and frightening. Like any first time father-to-be I bonded quickly with my son. When Johnathan died a part of me died too, and I was hesitant to embrace the prospect of being a father again. From the beginning of the pregnancy everything was different. Different treatment plan, different emotions, different me. I had a very difficult time embracing Timothy. I am ashamed to admit these things, but they are the reality of those moments.

The years have blunted those feelings, but not the memory. I am grateful that God has blessed me with six other children and I have learned to love them with all my heart. I do regret that I couldn't enjoy our brief time with Timothy but I rejoice that he has always only known the peace of God's presence. That knowledge is my hope, the thing that gave me the strength to take the step that started me to life again. Timothy's memory is the understanding that God is always active in my life, even when I can't see Him or understand what's going on. I can honestly tell you that I have come to the point that I wouldn't want him to leave heaven to be with me for any reason. I know that one day I will be with him and that is enough.

My life has been filled with disappointment and sorrow, but it has also been filled with the hand of God. From the very first moment that I placed my trust in Him He has been active. God's plan has always been to guard me from the worst while teaching me about who He is. His purposes are not always clear to me but I have come to understand that His desire has always been to draw me close to Him. I have come to understand that death is not something to be feared because He is greater even than death.

Thank you Timothy for teaching me how to live.