The Waiting

With the words of Tom Petty ringing in my ears, I confess loudly to all that "the waiting is the hardest part". Four months ago we started this journey of purchasing a home for ourselves. I have been in ministry for 10 years- and in that decade have relied totally on the good graces of the churches I served. With the current incentives, our full commitment to Asheville, and other personal reasons- Crystal and I decided the time was right. We, at first, tried to buy a home in "short sale". After four months of fighting the bank, one word describes that road: NIGHTMARE. Now, we are in the throws of doing a normal purchase, and still we wait. At the same time I decide to preach a sermon series called "In Between", on the story of the wilderness. Little did I realize the significance of such a word in season, both in the life of the church and in our own personal lives.

I have always hated waiting. Waiting brings out the worst in me- it reduces me to some of the base habits of my own carnality: worry, anger, doubt, confusion, and addictions. While I have never been a substance abuser- I will use anything to numb the pain of the wait: TV, junk food, the bed, or just staring aimlessly at at my email program clicking refresh every 30 seconds for hours at a time, just hoping some word will come through (I am not exaggerating). Armed with my cell phone in my pocket, I fidget every few minutes to see if there is an email, a call, a text- ANYTHING to ease the pain of the wait. While all of this may sound bizarre to the reader- it is an embarrassing but all too true confession.

Such behavior has become unbearable even to myself- and in turn has caused me to do some real introspection. Where does the root of all of this lie? It is this course of reflection which lead me to the following conclusion. I am a control freak. I want to be right on top of any and all news that comes my way regarding the house! Or the church, or my job, or... well, anything else. My obsession fuels my impulsiveness. Thus I find myself a miserable soul, bound by my own desires. The very thing I feel makes me free, is actually my slave master.

But why would someone with their own free will choose to live like this? The answer to this question was even more haunting than the previous revelation. My strong desire to be in absolute control was wrapped tightly around my own self love. I am so in love with myself, that I want to give myself all the control and authority that I feel like I deserve! As a fool follows the whims of a dictator or tyrant, I was doing whatever whatever I felt like would please my "Master Self".

Now I must learn how to get free from me! I am praying, seeking, and fasting for the deep inner peace that Christ alone provides- that peace that the apostles wrote about and the Church Fathers preached about. What's more? Recognizing how much I love me, reveals how much I should love others. That is convicting.

Tragedy and Contextualization

Nothing makes my heart beat faster than a late night phone call. Ten years of pastoring will make anyone gun shy, when the ringing of a phone pierces through your dreams and forces you up from deep slumbering. I'll never forget several years ago getting that call from a wailing grandmother that her 16 year old granddaughter, Kendra, had just died in a car crash. That morning was one of the WORST I've ever spent. I remember driving to her house, crying, and banging my fists on the steering wheel asking God, "Why? Why?" We sat around the living room, with glazed eyes and blank expressions. How do you make this fit? No one expected this. Her family was one of faith- loyal followers of Jesus. But there we were, with no answers. We were all thinking it, but no one was saying it- our faith was shaken.

Two nights ago another one of those phone calls interrupted my sleep. This time, it was for my wife. On the other end her mom tearfully shared that one of Crystal's cousins, in his 20s, had just died in a car crash. Even worse news came in the morning, when we found out that his best friend had died in the crash too. It doesn't fit, does it? Chris and Jodi, in their 20s, gone. And, I ask God, "Why?"

I've seen such tragedies push people away from God. I once knew a lady, a faithful Episcopalian, who denounced her faith when her son was diagnosed with Leukemia. Not just her, but her entire family. All of them, walked away from the Lord. She explained to me how it all went down. After she got the news- she went into a room alone and "had it out with God". Cussing, crying, wet, snotty mess. When she came out- she said she was done with Christ and His church.

How do we contextualize these events? Why do we struggle with God and faith when things just don't fit? How can tragedy cause such polarization between us and God?

I think its because we have a messed up view of God. Religion has played its role in teaching us that everything is somehow black and white, and must have an answer. And if it doesn't have an answer, then it has no place in faith. I assert that this is why tons of people never darken the door of a church! God is viewed as a judge, and the Bible as his trusty law book. Christianity then becomes nothing more than a list of dos and don'ts- and all of life's events are erroneously based on whether God likes us or not (and that is largely based on how well we're following his rules or not). Thus, if bad things happen to good people, young people, innocent people- then something must be out of line, something must have been done to deserve such tragedy. THIS IS NOT THE GOSPEL MESSAGE.

The gospel is not an invitation to follow the rules, or else! It is an invitation to join the grand story of God's creation and redemption. It is the message, that through the words, actions, and spirit of Jesus, God is righting the wrongs, and as Jesus himself said: "making all things new". The gospel is the good news that God loves us! While we struggle to reconcile "God the Lawmaker" with "God the Lover", the gospel has established that there is no tension between "law" and "love". Rather, Jesus announces that the "law is love"! Jesus literally says: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: Love others as well as you love yourself.' These two commands are pegs; everything in God's Law and the Prophets hangs from them."

I don't know why these tragedies occur. I know I did a lot of stupid things in my youth. I should probably be dead, or at least served prison time. I was fortunate, as many of you were, that I got away with it. But while we live on this earth, that is cursed with death- it still stings all of us at some point or another. The good news is, that God is not the one issuing that sting. In fact, Jesus came to do away with death's sting. How? I'll tell you how. We may not have the answers, but we do have each other. And as long as we have each other, we have love. Love eases the pain. Love does away with the sting.

I don't know how all of this came together for me today, but it did. As we suffer tragedies and hardships in this world, let me challenge you to love one another recklessly. Hold hands with someone in grief, let someone snot all over your shoulder, heal the pain, pour in the love- for this is the law of Christ.

My Grandma's House

This past weekend my Mom and Dad stayed at my house. At my request, Mom brought me her copy of my great-Grandma's journal. Several years ago, my aunt took this handwritten journal and retyped it all word by word and gave it to all the children and grandchildren. She was my great-grandmother, but I called her Grandma. She lived to 80 years old and died while I was still a child. God has given me an amazing memory- and I am thankful to have the memories of her that I do.

Today the reading came with certain solace. As this evening closes out- I am both haunted and excited over the events of the day. Excited because today marks my 8 year wedding anniversary with Crystal, and we are in the throws of purchasing our own home. Haunted because some our dreams have been stifled. We received news today that the house we've been trying to buy for months may slip through our fingers. And, at the same time- our "Plan B" house got sold today right out from under us. Then I read Grandma's journal.

She moved from England to the US in order to be with her daughter (my grandmother) who married an American soldier after World War 2. She survived World War 1 and 2 as a civilian in war torn England. On the coast of Cornwall, where Hitler's airman would unload their bombs before flying back to Germany over the channel. Her journal is a mixed bag- even random at times. I can see a lot of her in me- random and passionate.

While just skimming, I found my anxieties of the day drowning in a sea of gratitude. I wept as I read some of the closing passages- in which she relented the divorces occurring in the family, the death of her son, and her own declining health. Tears ran down my cheek as she described her frail financial status, "I only get $270 a month. I tithe, and pay $60 to heat my house, and have a little left to buy groceries... I was embarrassed today when the lady at Social Services made a scene over my $13 in food stamps." She never had much money- but she had something far greater. In that little house was packed some old furniture, a small gas stove, and a praying widow.

She cherished the simplest of things in life. Hot tea at 5 in the morning, early prayer moments in which she called the names of every single child, grand child, and great-grand child, and evenings filled with silence, solitude, and the Psalms. She wept over the prodigals- but still wrote about them as the real people they were- she loved and cherished them.

While I fret over expensive homes and pieces of land- I am taken back to a home of homes; where there's and endless supply of round butter cookies, small suckers, and red kool aid. Where withered hands knit gloves and toboggans. And feeble knees bow before the Lord of the Universe. Time and again, she declared, "the good Lord had little, and life was hard for Him. We should not expect our lives to be a bed of roses. But, God is faithful!" Enough said Grandma. Enough said.

The Important Stuff

As a pastor, I am often haunted by feelings of inferiority. This is especially true when my ideas of success aren't being met. Sleepless nights spent with that sinking feeling in my gut: "do I have what it takes?" Pastoring people already comes with its specific set of difficulties. Couple that with the nagging questions of your own performance, and you have a recipe for ulcers. Even more than ulcers, you have a recipe for spiritual depletion. These feelings have risen to the surface time and again, in late night discussions with my wife. With tear filled eyes, we asked the questions, our conversation filled with "whys". Why wasn't our church growing? With the quality of ministry that we have going on, why aren't our people telling others, and why aren't we running 100, or 200, and will it ever happen. Asking, "how can we accomplish noble goals with a little church, and little budget". All the while, knowing what God was uniquely speaking to me had not changed.

More recently, however, all that has changed. Becoming more aware of my unique call, I have grown to hate those feelings of inferiority that try to creep in. The more time I spend with the Lord in conversation over these matters, the more I get it. Maybe the things we think are significant markers of success really aren't important. Maybe, church can look completely different than the steepled building down the street, but still be "the church". While I'm certainly not claiming to start some kind of revolution, the thought is quite revolutionary. What if it was God's desire to have me as the leader of a small intimate community, rather than the vocational pastor of a largely attended church? What if God is more concerned about transformative community, than he is church attendees or offering numbers? What if it doesn't take a lot of people to do a lot of good? I realize that what I am selling, a lot of people aren't buying.... yet. Sometimes I feel like I am speaking a different language- but I know what the Lord is speaking to me. The other night my wife started letting that negative language creep in again- as we talked through it she mentioned that even though she was disappointed in the results- she still knew awesome things were going on among our people. As she elaborated, she mentioned one of the little girls in our children's church. This little one is disconnected from a lot of the kids, and she often acts like she'd rather be anywhere else than church. Last Wednesday this little girl asked my wife if she was going to lead worship; as my wife leads the worship for the children on Sunday morning. Crystal responded that we don't do live worship on Wednesday and the little one frowned. "Do you like it when I lead worship?", she asked. The little girl lit up and smiled and shook her head yes. Crystal commented that this little girl had a certain fondness for her, and she didn't know why. I immediately interrupted, "Crystal, this is what is all about!" My wife had left an impression, on a life. THAT'S HUGE! As we talked on I started sharing some the texts and emails I get after services and throughout the week. These little glimpses into the transformation and growth of those among our small faith community. The real lives, and real people, that were being changed and were learning how to follow Jesus, to love others, to practice justice... oh the list goes on and on!

Last week I used my DVR to record the Pixar film Wall-E. There is a scene in which Wall-E is moving through his jungle of metal, with sand all around, when he comes to a surprising discovery. Underneath some of the junk he finds a little green sprout, in a dirty old boot. He immediately scoops it up and stores it away in his lunch pail that doubles as a collection chest. He marvels at this piece of life- which is no where else to be seen in his vast jungle of garbage. What if we can be that little green sprout in someone's landscape of death? Could it be that our call is not to be the biggest oak in the forest- but the significant piece of life in an environment of death and garbage?

The important stuff is not the events we can pull off, or the people we can attract. Its the little moments we have to share life with one another. Its the humbling chance to touch lives, and leave an impression; to be a significant sign of life in a place that knows only death.

Elijah, Part 1 by John Piper

The leather lap was smooth as moss
Where lay the little corpse across
The prophet's knees. And camel hair
Made cradle for the toddler there
While pagan relatives stood by
The mother's arm and wondered why
Elijah wept.

The widow's son,
Her only child, had just begun
To love the quiet man who spent
His days in prayer, and sometimes went
For weeks alone among the hills
And mountains, where the silent rills
Flow west to Zarephath — or used
To flow, before the drought had bruised
Phoenician fields and left its brown
And barren wounds along the crown
Of Lebanon. The little boy
Had once let slip excessive joy
And said, "Do you think you could stay
And be my daddy here?" And they
Now wondered why he wept? And why
The sun had set and western sky
Turned crimson while Elijah pressed
A foreign child against his breast?
But even if they knew that there
Was love . . . that lonely prophets care,
With leather skins and camel hair . . .
That underneath, the losses tear
As deeply as a father's grief —
But even if there was belief,
They would not know what had been pent
Up in this many layered lament.
Three times he had composed the verse,
And every time the pain was worse.
And now his memory combined
Them all and drummed against his mind:

A prophet suffers from the truth
And miracles he made.
And dies while he is still a youth,
From prayers that he has prayed.

A prophet suffers from the truth
And miracles he made.
And dies while he is still a youth,
From prayers that he has prayed.

Round and round his mind the verse
Rolled heavy like a deadly curse . . .

Is not the hope of sinners dashed
And those who spurn the Lord?
Why is a faithful prophet slashed
By wielding Yahweh's sword?

He closed his eyes against the tears
And thought back over all the years
That he had kept himself from wrong,
And day and night had sung the song
Of David, that his heart would be
As pure as snow. And suddenly
God's word had sounded in the plains
Of Gilead, against the stains
Of Ahab king of Israel:

"Elijah, man of God, go tell
The king there shall be neither dew
Nor rain until you give the cue.
How can the king of Israel
Take to his bed a Jezebel
From Sidon with her feeble Baal,
And dig a fountain that will fail?
Think you my spring of Life is out,
O king? Then you will have your drought!"

And so Elijah gave the word.
And his reward? The prayer was heard,
And Ahab drove him out, to hide
With neither food nor drink beside
The brook of Cherith. There he sat
Alone, afraid, and murmured at
The price of faithful prophecy:
"What does it profit here to speak
The truth and die beside a creek?"
But then God said, "You will not die.
Consider how the ravens fly:
Are they not free at my command
To go and come from Ahab's land,
And carry here bread, meat and all
Through windows in the castle wall?
And will I not then care for you?
Consider now what I can do:
Henceforth I make of your distress
A banquet in the wilderness."

And so the prophet's murmurings
Were quieted with raven wings . . .
Until the brook went dry. And then
Elijah groaned, "O Lord, how can
A prophet die from prayers he prayed
And miracles that he has made?
At your command I shut the skies,
And now the thirsty prophet dies?"

"You will not die," the Lord replied,
"But go to Zarephath and hide.
And find a widow there like you,
Who waits to die. She's not a Jew,
She has an only son in need,
And oil enough and meal to feed
The boy and her one time and die.
Now go, and like a raven fly
To Zarephath, and there you three
Will live on what you cannot see."

And so the prophet's murmurings
Were quieted, with unseen things . . .
Until the boy lay dead upon
Elijah's lap, the only son
He might have had. "What have I done
For this, O man of God? Is one
More raven ready now?" she said,
"And can it carry to the dead
Live souls when they are gone, and bring
Back life and make a mother sing?"
The words were not as harsh as might
Have been. She saw the gathering night
Around his face and knew that he
Had felt the loss as much as she.

When everyone had gone, she heard
Him whispering: "Why bear the word?
A prophet suffers from the truth,
A prophet holds a lifeless youth.
How short the life for which I prayed
And brief the miracle I made."

And now a third time God replies,
"Elijah, tell me, is it wise
To think that every raven died,
And every jar of oil has dried,
And every time you hit the wall
Your God is tottering to fall?
O man of God, go up and pray."

Elijah took the child and lay
Three times across the corpse and prayed
All night: "O Lord, this child you've made;
Have mercy now and give his breath
Again, and spare the widow death
On death. And pity me tonight."

And when Mt. Hermon let the light
Of dawn shine through the upper room,
It had become a second womb.
Elijah took the breathing boy
Alive, and folded him with joy
Into his mother's robe, and took
A long, long walk to think, and look
Out on the western sea, and weep
That he is loved and still could reap
Such hope when everywhere is drought
Without, and worse within: his doubt.

Elijah, come and let your light
Shine here in candle one,
For though it flicker low at night,
It rises like the sun.

And though the darkness and the dearth
May threaten life and light,
Remember God still rules the earth,
And ravens fly at night

http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Poems/ByDate/1377_Elijah_Part_1/

U2- Where the Streets Have No Name

What can I say. I'm feeling a little homesick lately. The scene from this video makes me long for the day when multitudes will stand together that place where the streets have no name, and we will sing together. It's going to be awesome.

WNC Meeting Debacle

I posted the following on a message board, concerning the WNC meeting tonight to decide whether we should go ahead and buy a building, or stick with the original plan of leasing until a prime location for offices is worked out:

Partially in agreement. I think it needs to at least be considered. However, come Thursday, at our conventiently scheduled meeting Rolling Eyes , the pastors will vote to buy the property that the AB has found. His presentation will be good, and there will be little time for good discussion on the matter. And once again, the men will feel compelled to blindly follow the AB and SC reccomendation, and then in a few months everyone will be complaining about how bad of an idea it was.

BUT, we keep putting the same guys on the SC, and we keep voting for everything they recommend.. so its a vicious cycle. Then, when the body actually reccomends something, like the "Vision and Steering Commitee" for Whittier, they make sure that doesn't happen.

I just hope everyone is thinking about these things before we go into this meeting. Let's stand up and talk, and don't be a bunch of wussies (or in the words of one of my retired minister friends: "You know what you are!")

Today I am still very anxious about how this meeting will go. I dread the idea that we might vote to buy this building- WHEN there are BIGGER issues at hand. WNC is falling behind- we have no youth camp, and no real plan to actually have one. We already have properties that could be used- in Kannapolis, Paw Creek, Whittier, etc. There has long been discussions of moving to a more central location.

But, now we might buy a building stuck in Charlotte. A building that needs repairs- roofing and carpet. And, there is no word yet on where the money left over from this purchase will go. Unfortunately it is the generations behind even mine that will suffer. How much will the kingdom suffer in WNC with no youth camp? The sacred event in which many of us were saved, sanctified, spirit baptized, and called into ministry.

I was told by a leading official in our state (not the YCE director), that Youth Camp was a thing of the past, and WNC needs to move on to the future. Then I look at the others states who are doing awesome things, even moving to the future by streaming their camp meetings. And WNC sits on the sidelines, making decisions to buy buildings that will still not provide the needed ministry for the people of this state. I say, if we want to look to the future, then we need to invest in our youth- YOUTH CAMP IN WNC MUST BECOME A PRIORITY AGAIN!! I am so tore up in my spirit about the flippant way that WNC has been approaching these matters that I am actually dreading the possible outcome of this meeting tonight.