Would you give me five minutes?

I'm not sure what it was about the place that drew me to it time and time again. Perhaps it was the solitude of the place, or the sound of the rushing water, or maybe it was the fact that I was seldom interrupted while I was there. The place was a a refuge for me from a rapidly disintegrating life.

There have been few places like that in my life since then. 

That place was a spot on a waterway called the Bayou Meto in my hometown. There were a number of us who found the place while on one of those adventures that 13 & 14 year old boys like to have. That great adventure brought us to a wide spot on that creek. There were a number of rocks at this particular spot, perhaps an old road bed that had long been abandoned. We set about moving the rocks in an attempt to create a crossing through the rapidly moving water. We visited there often during that summer, but the fall pushed it farther down the list of priorities and we eventually quit going to "the Rapids" as we called them. 

Except that I didn't forget. I would visit there often in an attempt to get away from the mess that was my life. I would spend weekends there just so that I didn't have to face my reality. But life caught up with my escape and eventually I abandoned that place as well, leaving it to other young adventurer s.

But I sometimes find myself longing for a place like that again. 

Psalm 46:10 reads "Cease striving and know that I am God" (NASB). Other translations translate the opening phrase as "Be still," but I believe the better translation is cease striving. There could be no better instruction for our busy, distracted, connected lives. As a 14 year old I cherished those moments when I could escape the constant warfare that was "home." As a 54 year old I have to admit that I grown weary of the constant conflict and heartache that fills our world. The only anchor that I have is found in my relationship with God, and that relationship too often gets pushed farther down the list than is healthy for me. 

By nature I'm a fixer. Whether it's cars, small appliances, or spats between my kids, I've always tried to fix things. But the truth is that there are things we cannot fix. Not you, not me, not the. But we just keep on trying, growing more and more frustrated. The answer is to just let go.

There are things that happen in our lives that we cannot do anything about. Our response should be based on our relationship with God. Children of God do themselves and the Lord a great disservice when we keep wrestling with things that clearly are beyond our ability but are clearly His responsibility. The struggles that fill our lives are far more often beyond our control but within God's ability. 

Beyond that is the issue of all the "conveniences" that are really nothing more than chains that keep us enslaved to a way of life that is destructive spiritually. We fill our lives with computers, cell phones, televisions, text messages, tweets, and a million other things that are of questionable value at best. The life that all of this connectedness gives us is filled with activity but completely devoid of meaning. What we need is to unplug, withdraw, and cease striving.

If Jesus would regularly withdraw for times of spiritual renewal and fellowship with the Heavenly Father why do we think that we can do without those same types of times? I'm more guilty of that than anyone I know. Will you find the time today to "be still"? 

I'm about to put the phone on silence, turn off my computer, shut my door and spend some time in the presence of the Holy One who loves me. 

I encourage you to join me. I don't think any of us will die from it.

If You're Perfect Don't Bother Reading This

I had just come back to church after my heart surgery in 2010 when I was asked this question:

"What sin did you commit that caused God to punish you like this?"

Now that may seem to be a completely inappropriate and unthinking question to ask a man who had only recently had bypass surgery, but it doesn't come close to the following question I was asked after the death of our second son:

"Why do you think God took your son?"

I must confess that I did not answer that second question very well...in fact, I unloaded on the person who asked me that question. I have asked the Lord to forgive me many times for my attitude toward the person who asked me that question. 

Let me answer those two questions in the order I have listed them.

First, it was not a "sin" that I committed that caused God to punish me with heart problems. My heart problems sprang from diabetes, hypertension, obesity, and genetics. My choices, and my choices alone are the causes of my heart problems. 

My sons (our first and second) died from immaturity. That means that they were born too soon in the pregnancy to survive. They died because their lungs and hearts were not developed enough sustain their tiny bodies. It is bittersweet to me that if they had been born today that at least one of them would almost certainly have survived. 

Those questions reveal what I call an Old Testament understanding of how God works. When reading the Old Testament it is easy to draw the conclusion that God zaps people immediately when they step out of line. That's a wrong conclusion, but easy to draw nonetheless. But the truth is something altogether different. 

God is always gracious, seldom pouring out on us the justice that we deserve immediately. I remember a song from a number of years ago titled "God of the Second Chance." The truth is that our Heavenly Father is the God of another chance. I like to believe that as long as there is breath God gives another chance. 

Be even more than an Old Testament understanding of how God works I think those questions reveal the innate ability man has for creating additions to the way God does things. The Pharisees were masters of that....adding to what God says is enough. The sad thing is that Pharisees are not the only ones who do such things. We are all guilty of this practice. 

I was reading an article recently in which the pastor of a large church was talking about all the things that would disqualify someone from serving in his church. My first problem with the article was his constant reference to "his" church. Now I know that I'm majoring on a minor...but I've seen and been around enough pastors to know that some, if not many, have come to believe that they are the ones responsible for the church. The last I checked the church belonged to the Lord and I don't know a single pastor anywhere who gave his life for the church. I know I'm ranting, but I've got a feeling that this rant is probably more true than any of us realize. 

The second problem I had was the apparent lack of grace involved. There are so many Christians who have forgotten where they have come from...that we are all sinners with no redeeming qualities of our own. I've worked in some churches that were like that; unforgiving of any mistake, unwilling to extend grace, legalistic while proclaiming that they are loving.

Please don't misunderstand me...I am not saying that there should be no disqualifiers when it comes to serving in ministry. The Bible is quite clear about the qualifications. But I am saying that we must be very careful not to take on a responsibility that is not ours. None of us, no one, is the Holy Spirit for another person. The truth is that we are all messed up and that we will be messed up all of our lives. It is only the grace of God that redeems us, not our goodness, real or perceived. 

Questions like those at the beginning of this blog and articles like the one I read recently only serve to fuel the misconception that we have to have our acts together before God can love us or even do anything with us. Nothing could be further from the truth. God loves us and has loved us long before we ever thought about our unworthiness. It seems that we've forgotten that fact. 

Maybe it's time to remember.

Michael Phelps and Fallen People Like You and Me

Michael Phelps has been in the news again. On September 30th Phelps was arrested for driving under the influence. This was not his first arrest for driving while impaired. Phelps' was suspended by USA Swimming for six months and will miss next year's World Championships. This is a black mark on Phelps' image and reputation that could potentially tarnish him for years.

In case you are unfamiliar; Phelps has won more Olympic medals (22) than anyone else in history. He has graced Wheaties boxes and made millions in endorsements. But there has been a dark side to Phelps' greatness. There have been rumors of PED use (never verified) and other arrests for DUI. It seems that Phelps' single minded determination doesn't extend to life outside the pool.

Tragically, Phelps is not the first and will certainly not be the last of our heroes to take a hard fall. There have been many who have followed the tragic arc that Phelps seems to be set upon. The recent spate of stories concerning domestic abuse and NFL players; performance enhancing drugs and baseball players leave us wondering with Simon and Garfunkel: "Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?"

The truth is that Phelps and all our other fallen heroes are all human, just like you and me. None of us are able to overcome the allure of evil. There is none of us who are good. The Bible tells us that no one has ever been wholly good. People are fallen and need help. Yes, I'm going to say it: We've fallen and we can't get up (I'm sorry, I can't help it).

So before we rush out to condemn Michael Phelps or any other fallen hero lets remember that we are all capable of his transgression and so much more. Perhaps what Phelps and so many others need is not another dose of condemnation, but an understanding word and the gentle guiding hand of one who has walked the path before. Jesus instructed that "those without sin" should cast the first stone.

I wonder what we could be doing instead of ignoring Jesus' words. Perhaps our witness and our churches would be more effective if we started loving more and judging less. I'm not saying that we should turn a blind eye to Phelps' issues, or anyone else's for that matter. The church, and Christians in general, have become known more for what we're against than for our Savior. But perhaps we should learn to deal more redemptively than punitively.

At any rate, I will cheer now for Michael Phelps to get back on the right track...and not necessarily in the pool. Will you?

The Meaning and Necessity of Scars

My body is covered with scars. My first scar came when I was five years old and fell and split my head open. I have scars from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet. I counted my scars once (I know it's creepy) and have over 30 all across my body. I've been pretty hard on my body through the years.

I can tell you the stories behind almost all of the scars, or at least I how I came to get them. Some are accidents, some are the result of poor and reckless choices, but there is one that saved my life. Starting at the base of my neck and extending nine inches towards my navel is the scar from my heart surgery. That scar is a constant reminder of the fragile nature of life and the gift that God gave me when He guided the surgeon's hands.

But I'm not taking your time today to talk about my heart surgery...I want to talk with you about what scars mean. So many of us try to cover up our scars, to remove the memories that they carry with them. We all share an aversion to pain, it's written in our genes. But without this massive scar in the middle of my chest I in all likelihood would be here today. The scar in the middle of my chest is no longer a reminder of the pain that I endured but a symbol of the life that it gave to me. 

One of the most difficult things I have ever done was make a trip to the hospital after the death of a church member just months after my heart surgery. He was younger than and I dropped dead going up the steps to his home one evening. I struggled to perform his funeral service and I struggled to understand the "why" of my survival and his won passing. My own scar seemed to constantly haunt me with the what might have been. My soul hurts for him and his family even today.

But scars carry different meanings, come from different origins. Jesus bears scars. The gospels record for us that Jesus' resurrected body bore those scars. They are a testimony of the power of God's love. That love which willingly gave His life for each of us. Jesus is not afraid of those scars, he embraces them willingly, gladly. He took them into himself so that we might be redeemed. You might say that Jesus' scars display the truthfulness of his claims about himself. Who else but the Savior of the world would willingly receive the scars that proclaim our redemption. 

What story do your scars tell about you? Do they draw you into a life of appreciation and thankfulness for the scars that Jesus bears for you? I have come to be thankful for this one particular scar and am learning to be grateful for all the rest. May they all remind me of the love that truly saved my life.

Anonymous and OK with it?

I recently met some new friends....well, they are new to me. They are actually friends of my wife. They are really nice people and I look forward to getting to spend time with them as our friendships develop. When meeting them I received compliments on this blog. The person said that they had read these posts and made a (joking, I'm sure) remark about my internet presence and, in their words, "fame"

Fame?...Me?

I believe that this blog has a grand total of nine followers and that my last post was seen by a grand total of thirty-two people. Did I mention that I have something like thirty-six followers on Twitter? I have never pastored a megachurch, never been asked to chair any important committees or task forces. In short...I'm anything but well known and famous is not a word that I would associate with myself.

And I've become ok with that.

I must confess that this has not always been the case. My childhood was very difficult and it left me with a huge void in terms of self confidence and a sense of my purpose and worth. For many years I longed to know that I was worth something to someone. I tried playing sports, mostly in an effort to gain the approval of my father, but that didn't work. I participated in drama and speech contests with some success but not the recognition that I hungered for. My college career was nothing special and was noted more for my lack of academic achievement than anything else. With the possible exception of the cafeteria food fight...but we don't talk about that.

I struggled into adulthood and marriage feeling lost in a way. I desperately wanted my life to mean something to someone. I believed that God loved me but I wasn't sure why. I was convinced that my wife was going to wake up one day and realize the loser that I was and leave me for someone who would make a difference in the world. 

I was anonymous and miserable. 

I wish I could tell you that there was a Damascus-road type experience in which God broke through my misery and overwhelmed my disbelief with his love. That's not the case. The truth is that I struggled for many, many years and that I came to spiritual and emotional health through small doses of that still, small voice and the Bible. The Job like patience of my wife was so very vital in all of this. She continued to model for me the love of God...the truth is she still does.

I reached a turning point one day through the actions of one of my kids. One of my sons had inadvertently caused a minor disaster while I was working on our car. It was nothing major but was just one of those "perfect storm" moments. I overreacted and exploded all over him, saying things I didn't mean and should never have said. He ran into the house in tears and stayed there while I laid under the car fuming. 

I'm not sure how long I laid there but my fuming turned into self loathing. I was certain that my actions were proof of my absolute worthlessness. But then I heard my son come outside. I came out from under the car and before I could apologize he rushed up to me and threw his arms around me and told me he loved me. I was stunned that his heart would want to be on the same planet as me, much less express his love for me. 

God had me right where he wanted me. I was listening to Dr. David Jeremiah the next morning and he read Psalm 27:10 - "My mother and father have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me up." A light went on in my head. 

I came to realize that God picked me up all those years ago when I accepted Christ as my Savior. He knew what was coming then and He loved me anyway. His plan for my life included all the struggles, all the heartaches. He has been there all the time, wanting and waiting to wrap me in His arms. All those youth leaders, the senior adults, my wife and so many others were the instruments of His grace and love in the long, slow drawing of my burdened heart to Him.

I discovered that I wasn't so anonymous after all. I was the object of the affections of the Creator of the universe. He picked me up all those years ago and had been carrying me. 

The truth is that none of us are anonymous. God knows each of us in ways deeper than we can imagine, and He loves us with a love so passionate and fierce that He gave up his son for us.

No one from high school, college, or even seminary may remember me. No one at the headquarters of the SBC may know my name and I may never be remembered as a great pastor...But God knows me, loves me and has prepared a place for me. 

If that's anonymity I'm okay with it.

Where Never is Heard a Discouraging Word?

Oh give me a home
Where the buffalo roam
And the deer and the antelope play
Where never is heard 
A discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day. 

This blog was originally intended to be about the power of words...the power to build up, to tear down. I had intended to address the foolishness of Victoria Osteen's words...the President's seeming obsession with calling the Islamic State "ISIL" and what the meaning of "is" is. But technological issues derailed that post and so I find myself thinking of other things this morning. 

Mondays tend to be "Mondays" for me. They are often the most physically, spiritually, and emotionally challenging days of my week. I know many pastors who feel that way. It seems that the preparations for Sundays consume our emotions, intellects, and efforts and then we find ourselves spent come Monday. This is especially true for me because I don't sleep well or in great quantity. So I find myself on many Monday mornings struggling to get started; much less build any great momentum.

I have to admit that this was true this morning. I don't drink coffee (I know, I'm a weirdo!) and was having a hard time generating anything resembling enthusiasm for the day (I've been up since 3:30 am) when someone sent me a text message. I didn't recognize the number, but that's unimportant. 

The message was one of encouragement. The sender wanted to thank me for my service to our church. 

There was power in that message, at least for me. My heart was encouraged by the simple message and the words of thanks for my preaching. Those words penetrated my heart and unleashed joy. I cannot say that they made my day, but they sure helped me get off to a better start than I would have otherwise. 

So I guess I am still speaking about the power of words...but in the positive sense. We live in a world that delights in tearing things down, especially people. What a joy to receive a message that was intended to build up, to encourage, to strengthen. 

My response to that test message? To be someone who encourages others today. 

Thanks.

Read This Before You Give Up

Our world is full of strife.

I doubt that anyone anywhere would argue with that statement. The situation in the Ukraine, ISIS, murders, assaults, politics...it seems as if everything is caught up in turmoil. Our world has become a place of war, pain, and despair. Hopelessness appears to be the theme of our days. Who could blame us if we decided to throw our hands up and give up?

I will.

I have known my share of heartache and troubles. An abusive childhood, abandonment, disappointment seemed to be the story of my life...and that was before I turned 18! The death of children, chronic health conditions, dismissals, personal attacks, and struggles have filled my days since. But I will not give up, will not give in. I can no more give up on this life that I could suddenly grow eight inches and regrow all my hair (if you're reading this but don't know me....I'm short, fat, and bald). But I have learned one or two things during my troubled time on this planet and those things give me the ultimate hope. I will list the most important thing first:

I know Jesus as my Savior and Lord.

Jesus became my Savior as a ten year old and I have been trying to submit to His lordship ever since. I haven't always followed Him as I should but He's never given up on me. That alone is the greatest hope I will ever know. I am not dependent on being smarter than everyone else, or faster, or more handsome or anything. In fact, there is nothing that you or I or anyone can do to be worthy of God's grace. I depend on the sacrifice of Jesus for my right standing before a holy God. That grace is a gift of God and I will never be able to do anything to make Him love me less or remove His grace from me. 

That grace is available to all men because God loves all men. I'm not going to debate predestination or election, or any of that stuff. All I know is that God loves all of us...offers His grace to all...and doesn't desire that anyone be separated from Him. He actively calls men and women just like me every day and as many as who will receive Jesus by faith will be saved. In a world filled with hopelessness and futility that's truly good news. I believe God is going to keep things under control until his plan it finished and then wraps things up. Not a day sooner or later. God is in control.

I will never give up because His grace shows me that it is never too late for God to reach down and change the world. 

Please think a moment or two about this for a day or two....I promise you that this truth alone will change the way you look at this world.