Having played a video clip from Sir Lawrence Olivier’s portrayal of King Richard III this past Sunday has it is fresh on my mind. “Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this son of York; and all the clouds that lour’d upon our house.” Made in 1955 by one of the greatest actors didn’t keep this particular supposed historical depiction from being rather overplayed and cheesy. “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!” We can thank Bill Shakespeare for the lines.
Unless you’re a history buff and/or an ecclectic reader, you are probably not aware of the recent news regarding Richard Plantagenet, a.k.a. King Richard III of the House of York. His remains were discovered under a parking lot last September providing us with the only proof of his physical appearance. Polidoro Virgili said he had “the one shoulder higher than the right”; Thomas More described him as “little of stature, ill-featured of limbs, crook-backed.” It has only taken 528 years from the time of his death to set the record straight. He suffered from severe scoliosis (curvature of the spine), not kyphosis (humped back) as he historically has been portrayed. I don’t know about you, but 528 years is a long time to me.
Whether we are reading about the results of archeological or Biblical history, few things are revealed quickly. When I teach the historical sections of Scripture, I attempt to point out the absence of detail regarding time. To the casual reader, events transpire within brief, reasonable time frames. “And it came to pass” sounds like “the next day”. But when you analyze the known facts, you discover that “and it came to pass” can translate into decades. We don’t even have to engage the debate over the meaning of the Hebrew word commonly translated “day” in Genesis to discover that “next” can be a long way down the road.
I suppose that it can be looked at in the same way in which we view the horizon. I have read that when we stand on level ground, the horizon is ten miles away. To us it appears flat. We are literally incapable of discerning the earth’s curvature. Unless we know what lies beyond that line that separates earth (or sea) from sky, we are left to our imaginations. “Flat Earthers” are a product. 24,901 miles: that’s the circumference of the earth. The relationship of distance to time is what creates the illusions of what “next” means.
It may be a product of increased knowledge or it may simply be the result of getting older. Without launching into philosophical ramblings regard how much faster “time flies” as we age, suffice it to say, “It does.” Ground covered, measure either by distance or a clock, gives us a perspective on what is behind and by extrapolation, what may be ahead.
Such is one of the challenges of church planting, church growth and God’s answering when we pray. If you haven’t figured it out yet, save yourself some anxious moments. God is never in a hurry. The preponderance of evidence in Scripture is that waiting is a part of the equation. Whether the scenario is of Elijah waiting for God’s judgement on Ahab and Jezebel, or the disciples asking Jesus about the advent of the Kingdom, it doesn’t matter. The current Charismaniac “name it, claim it” gospel reduces God to a cosmic bellhop. When we invoke the story of Elijah on Mt Carmel as proof of a rapid response, we overestimate our spiritual importance. Only when we can bring someone back from the dead should we embrace such an analogy. My advice to the aspiring spiritual leader is to plan on faith requiring time to bear its fruit. There is a summer of the soul between sowing and harvesting that doesn’t involve watching the clock. There is more work to be done while we wait on God to produce a harvest in His good time.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Thursday, December 20, 2012
On Principle
I love governing principles. They beat rules anytime. “Love the Lord your God with all your....” is a great governing principles. “Love your neighbor as yourself” really goes well with the first. As a matter of fact, a close reading of the Gospels would lead you to believe that Jesus was a huge fan of governing principles as is indicated by His, “but I say unto you” comments of Matthew 5. The more that I think about it, even the parables were about governing principles. The beauty of principles is that they are true anytime and anywhere.
One of the things that I love about principles is that you don’t have to know all of the details of a particular discipline to benefit. If I understand the basics of physics, I don’t have to know what an ‘m’ or a ‘v’ or a ‘c’ stands for in a particular equation to know that “what goes up must come down”. If I understand the basics of geometry, I don’t have to be able to recite all of the theorems proving that the square of a hypotenuse is equal to the sums of the square of the other two sides to know that the ladder I’m using has to be longer than the wall its against. I only wished that my physics and geometry professors had appreciated my appreciation for the principles of their disciplines! I never got an ‘A’ on principles although I was acquainted with the principals.
What’s really cool is that principles apply to everything, including reaching unchurched people and planting churches. Since Bill Hybels and Rick Warren planted Willow Creek and Saddleback, there have been thousands of wanna be church planters who have tried to copy them. There have now been thousands of failures with only one Willow Creek and Saddleback. Why? Replicating practices does not equal to replicating principles, therefore will not replicate success. Having attended their conferences way-back-when, I remember them learning to say, “Do not try this at home.” More churches were blown up than thrown up or grown up by attempted replication. The mega successes that do exist are because others understand the principles behind their effectiveness.
“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink” is a great church planting principle. It also happens to be a great principle for dealing with pagans or hard core atheists. We are enduring another advent-holiday-merry-whatever season and another round of victim-minded-believer rants. We can’t pray in school. We can’t post the Ten Commandments. We can’t call them “Christmas Trees”. We can’t wa, wa, wa... A neutral observer could easily reach the conclusion that the Jesus solution to every issue is forced conformity to our way of thinking, especially on non-believers. Geneva revisited. Compulsion does not equal to conversion. Simply getting all of the horses to line up at the same watering hole doesn’t prove anything other than their rear ends are all pointing in the same direction.
It was in an attempt to answer my brother-in-laws question, “What’s this about you and Christmas?” that I realized a principle of reaching people with the Good News. Most everyone I know was exposed to some form of Jesus-based-teaching growing up, but walk away from it. The well-intentioned efforts of family, friends and God-fearing people attempting to compel them to at least practice faith even if they didn’t believe it, didn’t do anything positive to attract them to it. Rubbing someone’s nose in creamed spinach isn’t going to alter their gag reflex if they don’t like it. If we really believe that “no one comes except the Spirit draws”, we can go about our business of praying, celebrating and preaching without sounding like victims of a cultural war. Winners attract admirers while whiners attract scorn. Sounds like a great principle!
One of the things that I love about principles is that you don’t have to know all of the details of a particular discipline to benefit. If I understand the basics of physics, I don’t have to know what an ‘m’ or a ‘v’ or a ‘c’ stands for in a particular equation to know that “what goes up must come down”. If I understand the basics of geometry, I don’t have to be able to recite all of the theorems proving that the square of a hypotenuse is equal to the sums of the square of the other two sides to know that the ladder I’m using has to be longer than the wall its against. I only wished that my physics and geometry professors had appreciated my appreciation for the principles of their disciplines! I never got an ‘A’ on principles although I was acquainted with the principals.
What’s really cool is that principles apply to everything, including reaching unchurched people and planting churches. Since Bill Hybels and Rick Warren planted Willow Creek and Saddleback, there have been thousands of wanna be church planters who have tried to copy them. There have now been thousands of failures with only one Willow Creek and Saddleback. Why? Replicating practices does not equal to replicating principles, therefore will not replicate success. Having attended their conferences way-back-when, I remember them learning to say, “Do not try this at home.” More churches were blown up than thrown up or grown up by attempted replication. The mega successes that do exist are because others understand the principles behind their effectiveness.
“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink” is a great church planting principle. It also happens to be a great principle for dealing with pagans or hard core atheists. We are enduring another advent-holiday-merry-whatever season and another round of victim-minded-believer rants. We can’t pray in school. We can’t post the Ten Commandments. We can’t call them “Christmas Trees”. We can’t wa, wa, wa... A neutral observer could easily reach the conclusion that the Jesus solution to every issue is forced conformity to our way of thinking, especially on non-believers. Geneva revisited. Compulsion does not equal to conversion. Simply getting all of the horses to line up at the same watering hole doesn’t prove anything other than their rear ends are all pointing in the same direction.
It was in an attempt to answer my brother-in-laws question, “What’s this about you and Christmas?” that I realized a principle of reaching people with the Good News. Most everyone I know was exposed to some form of Jesus-based-teaching growing up, but walk away from it. The well-intentioned efforts of family, friends and God-fearing people attempting to compel them to at least practice faith even if they didn’t believe it, didn’t do anything positive to attract them to it. Rubbing someone’s nose in creamed spinach isn’t going to alter their gag reflex if they don’t like it. If we really believe that “no one comes except the Spirit draws”, we can go about our business of praying, celebrating and preaching without sounding like victims of a cultural war. Winners attract admirers while whiners attract scorn. Sounds like a great principle!
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Even though I’m a Reformed Theologian, I’m still amazed at the providential happenstances of God’s provision. Add to that my interest in Physics and processing the quantum possibilities necessary in arranging the exponential details to bring about His desired results and you simply can’t be a “what luck” kind of thinker. The laws of probability require intentionality. If you didn’t understand what I just said, make no mistake. I’m not as smart as that made me sound!
Kingdom work is either good/bad fortune or a divinely guided journey. If I’m playing golf and the ball one hops into the cup on the fly, I have no illusion regarding my ability. I’m okay calling it “dumb luck” as opposed to “astounding giftedness”. I understand fully the physics involved in potential/kinetic energy coupled with the geometry of angles of flight and descent that lead to a dimpled ball landing in a small cup. And no, I don’t think that God gives a rip about my golf game, unless it effects my spiritual walk and witness.
Recently, I was responsible for assisting two out-of-town church staffers in a “get acquainted” tour of our area as they prayerfully consider partnering with prospective church planters. Two day, lots of miles, several meetings, good food and better fellowship. On their second and last day we took a walking tour of the Unites States Naval Academy in Annapolis. Since the Baptist Student Ministry Director was out-of-town for a conference, we were on our own. If you’ve never been, there’s a lot to see and ground to cover. We entered several of the historic buildings including the chapel and its basement where the remains of John Paul Jones are enshrined in an ornate coffin. Before completing the tour, our guests wanted to visit the souvenir shop for family gifts. It would certainly be more impressive than making a run to the local Walmart. That’s where need and opportunity converged in the improbable of divine providence.
We really didn’t know where we were going. We were simply told that it was “way over there” and given some simple instructions. We hoofed it to “way over there” until we were at risk of running out of campus. The visiting Lead Pastor did the normal, “You ask around. I’m looking over there” routine. His associate and I did what men are accused of never doing: we began asking those we saw for directions. The first couple, obviously not military, said, “Don’t ask us, we’re lost too!” From a nearby building emerge a man in uniform. He courteously stopped at our approach and we discovered that he was a chaplain and a graduate of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary; my alma mater. He pointed us in the right direction and then moved on as I took note on his name tag: Chaplain Carey Cash.
You need to understand. I had been attempting to connect with Evangelical Academics in our area to accompany me to a banquet with our Turkish American Muslim friends, by special invitation. We simply don’t have those kinds of people in our church! I’m in full scramble mode. Following the encounter, I thought to myself, “Self, it doesn’t get any better than this. You just met the Chaplain at the Naval Academy who knows EVERYBODY.” I did what every red-blooded American does to make that connection: I Googled, “Chaplain Carey Cash.” Consequently, I was able to speak with him about this great ministry opportunity to reach out in-the-name-of-Jesus to our Muslim friends. Even though I went unaccompanied to the banquet, the groundwork has been laid for future opportunities.
Kingdom work can’t proceed without God’s special intervention. It’s way too cool to be in the middle of His stream of influence. By-the-way, Chaplain Carey Cash is the great nephew of Johnny Cash and the brother of Kelley Cash: Miss America, 1987. How cool is that?
Kingdom work is either good/bad fortune or a divinely guided journey. If I’m playing golf and the ball one hops into the cup on the fly, I have no illusion regarding my ability. I’m okay calling it “dumb luck” as opposed to “astounding giftedness”. I understand fully the physics involved in potential/kinetic energy coupled with the geometry of angles of flight and descent that lead to a dimpled ball landing in a small cup. And no, I don’t think that God gives a rip about my golf game, unless it effects my spiritual walk and witness.
Recently, I was responsible for assisting two out-of-town church staffers in a “get acquainted” tour of our area as they prayerfully consider partnering with prospective church planters. Two day, lots of miles, several meetings, good food and better fellowship. On their second and last day we took a walking tour of the Unites States Naval Academy in Annapolis. Since the Baptist Student Ministry Director was out-of-town for a conference, we were on our own. If you’ve never been, there’s a lot to see and ground to cover. We entered several of the historic buildings including the chapel and its basement where the remains of John Paul Jones are enshrined in an ornate coffin. Before completing the tour, our guests wanted to visit the souvenir shop for family gifts. It would certainly be more impressive than making a run to the local Walmart. That’s where need and opportunity converged in the improbable of divine providence.
We really didn’t know where we were going. We were simply told that it was “way over there” and given some simple instructions. We hoofed it to “way over there” until we were at risk of running out of campus. The visiting Lead Pastor did the normal, “You ask around. I’m looking over there” routine. His associate and I did what men are accused of never doing: we began asking those we saw for directions. The first couple, obviously not military, said, “Don’t ask us, we’re lost too!” From a nearby building emerge a man in uniform. He courteously stopped at our approach and we discovered that he was a chaplain and a graduate of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary; my alma mater. He pointed us in the right direction and then moved on as I took note on his name tag: Chaplain Carey Cash.
You need to understand. I had been attempting to connect with Evangelical Academics in our area to accompany me to a banquet with our Turkish American Muslim friends, by special invitation. We simply don’t have those kinds of people in our church! I’m in full scramble mode. Following the encounter, I thought to myself, “Self, it doesn’t get any better than this. You just met the Chaplain at the Naval Academy who knows EVERYBODY.” I did what every red-blooded American does to make that connection: I Googled, “Chaplain Carey Cash.” Consequently, I was able to speak with him about this great ministry opportunity to reach out in-the-name-of-Jesus to our Muslim friends. Even though I went unaccompanied to the banquet, the groundwork has been laid for future opportunities.
Kingdom work can’t proceed without God’s special intervention. It’s way too cool to be in the middle of His stream of influence. By-the-way, Chaplain Carey Cash is the great nephew of Johnny Cash and the brother of Kelley Cash: Miss America, 1987. How cool is that?
Thursday, November 8, 2012
What an adventure!
Never are differing personality types more conspicuous than when it comes to risk taking and adventure. It doesn’t matter which inventory you use to assess the types, the result is the same when it comes to which ones will bungee jump and which will not. I think that it’s safe to say that the average person prefers to play it safe. I have never been mistaken for that type.
I’ll be 59 my next birthday. My Dad’s Dad died at 59! He was a farmer for whom life was about plowing, planting, harvesting, feeding the chickens and seeing after his family. A whole lot of work but not much adventure. It suited him well. While I understand the appeal of the agrarian lifestyle (and I have spent more than a few hours on a tractor), there is a sort of wanderlust in my soul that seeks satisfaction at the edge. Life is for living, not spectating. No doubt, that has contributed to my success in ministry and particularly as a church planter.
For most, the fact that I ride a motorcycle is adventurous. When I say “ride”, I really mean RIDE. I am not one of the “I own a motorcycle” crowd whose great adventure is showing up at the local coffee shop. I don’t see much adventure in, “Latte or Frapacino?” I began riding in 1973. I have ridden all over Texas, Arkansas and Oklahoma in the southwest and from Bangor, Maine to Niagara Falls to Key West, Florida in the east. My wife, who doesn’t particularly love to ride and who is NOT a risk taker/adventurous type, has only logged about 50,000 miles with me. We do at least one trip a year of 2,000 miles in a week. My dream is to ride to Alaska, and back!
Two years ago I experienced a different kind of adventure. I had read and watched with awe and admiration the tales of people who have hiked the Appalachian Trial, all 2250 miles of it. I decided that it was time to do more than read and watch. While I had no illusions of being able to give the six months necessary for doing the whole trail, I could, at the very least, do 50 miles of it. Having shared with my brother-in-law (age 66) and my college roommate (age 58) my dream and the invitation to join me, we planned the adventure. In September of 2010, we converged in the Great Smokies of western North Carolina. What we discovered was that we had chosen the most difficult section of the trail for our virgin hike! Sweat, mountains, gorgeous scenery, blisters and bear warnings marked our journey. What an adventure! I’m planning on another stretch next year.
My most recent adventure has been the decision to move from terra firma to a boat. While it has been no secret, neither has it been common knowledge. In November 2011, Sarah and I bought a boat and in December moved aboard. We are now approaching a year of life afloat. For most people, that’s adventure over-the-top! There have been two things that we’ve discovered about everyone who has visited our new home: how many are subject to sea sickness and how many have harbored dreams of doing what we’re doing! Then came Sandy, the never-before-convergence of a hurricane with a “nor’easter” on the mid-Atlantic coast. I remained aboard our home from beginning to end. What an adventure!
I now have a new appreciation for the words of Isaiah: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God...” Until we put ourselves at risk, we are not living by faith and will never discover the fulfillment of these words. By-the-way, I’m looking for my next adventure.
I’ll be 59 my next birthday. My Dad’s Dad died at 59! He was a farmer for whom life was about plowing, planting, harvesting, feeding the chickens and seeing after his family. A whole lot of work but not much adventure. It suited him well. While I understand the appeal of the agrarian lifestyle (and I have spent more than a few hours on a tractor), there is a sort of wanderlust in my soul that seeks satisfaction at the edge. Life is for living, not spectating. No doubt, that has contributed to my success in ministry and particularly as a church planter.
For most, the fact that I ride a motorcycle is adventurous. When I say “ride”, I really mean RIDE. I am not one of the “I own a motorcycle” crowd whose great adventure is showing up at the local coffee shop. I don’t see much adventure in, “Latte or Frapacino?” I began riding in 1973. I have ridden all over Texas, Arkansas and Oklahoma in the southwest and from Bangor, Maine to Niagara Falls to Key West, Florida in the east. My wife, who doesn’t particularly love to ride and who is NOT a risk taker/adventurous type, has only logged about 50,000 miles with me. We do at least one trip a year of 2,000 miles in a week. My dream is to ride to Alaska, and back!
Two years ago I experienced a different kind of adventure. I had read and watched with awe and admiration the tales of people who have hiked the Appalachian Trial, all 2250 miles of it. I decided that it was time to do more than read and watch. While I had no illusions of being able to give the six months necessary for doing the whole trail, I could, at the very least, do 50 miles of it. Having shared with my brother-in-law (age 66) and my college roommate (age 58) my dream and the invitation to join me, we planned the adventure. In September of 2010, we converged in the Great Smokies of western North Carolina. What we discovered was that we had chosen the most difficult section of the trail for our virgin hike! Sweat, mountains, gorgeous scenery, blisters and bear warnings marked our journey. What an adventure! I’m planning on another stretch next year.
My most recent adventure has been the decision to move from terra firma to a boat. While it has been no secret, neither has it been common knowledge. In November 2011, Sarah and I bought a boat and in December moved aboard. We are now approaching a year of life afloat. For most people, that’s adventure over-the-top! There have been two things that we’ve discovered about everyone who has visited our new home: how many are subject to sea sickness and how many have harbored dreams of doing what we’re doing! Then came Sandy, the never-before-convergence of a hurricane with a “nor’easter” on the mid-Atlantic coast. I remained aboard our home from beginning to end. What an adventure!
I now have a new appreciation for the words of Isaiah: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God...” Until we put ourselves at risk, we are not living by faith and will never discover the fulfillment of these words. By-the-way, I’m looking for my next adventure.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Against The Tide Revisited
Against the Tide. I repeat: Against the Tide. I find myself, on occasion, asking, “Why did I entitle this blog, “Against the Tide”? When I face the daily challenges of church leadership, it doesn’t take long to remember. When I confer with other pastors and the challenges they have faced, it doesn’t take long. When I mentor church planters and the challenges they will face, it doesn’t take long.I have recently been blessed with the privilege of sharing a trip to Turkey with six other pastors. We were the guests of the Maryland American Turkish Inhabitants organization, a local expression of the Gulen Movement in which cultural and interfaith dialogue is being encouraged between moderate Muslims and Americans in order to engender international peace. Without becoming the boring vacationer with lots of slides that no one really want to see, indulge me a moment to write about Ephesus.
For a week we met with groups of educated, professional Muslims for food, fellowship and conversation. We ate outdoors, indoors, in restaurants, business cafeterias, school cafeterias, school meeting rooms and in homes. At times we felt like the fatted calf, we were so well fed. As a further expression of their desire for a peaceful coexistence, we were treated to sites important to Muslims, historians, educators, journalists, Christians and tourists, among which was Ephesus.
While I could, and probably eventually will, write about Cappadocia, Istanbul and Haran (where we were just ten miles from Syria), Ephesus serves the greater purpose today. In archeological terms the site is relatively recent. That explains the extent of preservation. In fact, they were digging while we were there and will be doing so for the balance of our lifetimes. Having wandered from the top through the ancient streets and columns we wound our way to the bottom and a great amphitheater that faced a wide street leading to nowhere. That’s what it looked like. While it could be assumed that the “end of the road” was merely the “beginning of the road” leading into town, it was not. In the days of Paul the road ended at a harbor, the kind with ships and water. Now, the Aegean Sea is more than three miles removed.
An unrelenting and, at times, imperceptible march of resistance. A combination of erosion from the top and sedimentary deposits from the tides at the bottom resulted in a road to nowhere. A scourge of Christian history is the failure of spiritual leaders to recognize and respond to the seemingly imperceptible cause of decline and demise. Success has always been the result of resistance to the unrelenting tides which do not stop and can carry you away into nonexistence. Not a single church that was planted in Asia Minor (Turkey) remains. Kingdom work will always be against the tide.
If you’re a fighter by nature, you may be church planting and/or church leadership material. All of the accolades, admiring glances, pats on the back and invitations to heady events are often offered as though you are a genius who somehow figured it all out. No one rarely recognized the hard fought inches and ounces of progress that were required to get there. As blessed as our journey of church planting and growth has been because of the miracles accomplished by the Spirit, it has been as roses among thorns. Paul’s “we wrestle not” is not a summary statement about Easy Street. It is about spiritual tides that never cease, powered by the dark forces of the enemies of God. My advice? Don’t enter the water unless you are prepared to swim against the tide until Jesus returns.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Being restored
38 and counting. That’s 38 in addition to. I made my commitment to Christ at age 6 in a church that my Dad was pastoring. I waved the white flag of ministry (better known in those days as “surrendering”, appropriately so) at age twenty on August 8, 1974. If you count the time that I spent as a PK, that qualifies me to an opinion about life in the glass house of ministry. Allow me to ramp up to today’s epiphany.
For generations, Americans have been influenced by the Puritan work ethic. While believing that prosperity was an evidence of God’s pleasure with a person or group of persons, the Puritans none-the-less subscribed to a life of hard work. Small wonder that they did so well. Unfortunately, austerity was the hallmark of their journey, including but not limited to their worship practices. In a very old volume appropriately titled The Sabbath in Puritan New England are accounts of the primitive nature of the Puritan church meeting place and the retrospectively entertaining sagas of benches, endlessly long prayers, dry preaching and the debate over providing a source of heat during the brutally cold New England winters.
While making his way from truck driver to Pastor my Dad encountered the salt-of-the-earth kind of folks who believed in hard work for everyone, including the preacher. We had that joyful experience of living in housing provided by various churches known as a parsonage. The good church folk treated it as a great favor to the Pastor, especially by conveniently locating it next to the church building. And because the Pastor was so favored with such accommodating living arrangements, he certainly didn’t need as much income to survive. What they never admitted to was that this living arrangement allowed them to “keep an eye on the Pastor”. Many a Pastor has lived under this kind of microscope in which the Deacons all had keys to the parsonage and felt no need to announce themselves upon arrival. Oh, how I miss those romantic days. NOT!
Scrutiny. Good word so long as I am the scrutineer. Not-so-good word if I am the scrutinee. How a Pastor spend his time is important. The Puritan work ethic scrutiny expressed itself over time as making certain that the Pastor “puts in his time”. Churches historically have expected the Pastor to be working when they are (8-5) and then ministering when people are available (5-whenever). While offering him vacation time, there have always been those who have “watched the clock” and “watched the calender” to insure that he has “put in his time”. It’s almost as though there was an unwritten rule: “we have to punch a clock to get paid, so should you.” Need anyone wonder why my call to ministry was a “surrender”?
38 and counting. That’s 38 in addition to. My journey has never been about whether I “put in my time”. I’ve been a workaholic. I don’t doubt that the long days, weeks and months of self-denial have paid huge dividends to church growth, including our success in church planting. I know what it is to go weeks (made up of 14 hr days) without a break. I know what it is go months without a week off. Frankly, I can’t second guess whether I was right or wrong during those stretches. After all, when you bring the baby home from the hospital, you do what you have to do, when you have to do it for the sake of the welfare of the child. That was then. This is now.
In 38 years there have been a lot of casualties. Very few that began their ministries at the same time as I are still “pulling at the oars”. While some crashed and burned under the strain, other went down in flames to immorality, impropriety or infamy. It’s been tough learning how to “take it easy” but I’m working on it. The predecessor in my previous church didn’t buy into the expectation of others. When criticized for not “being in the office” enough, he responded with, “You don’t even know what I am doing when I am there. For all you know, I could be playing video games.” Of course it didn’t hurt that he was retired military. I plan on serving until I don’t, not going down in flames.
I think that I finally get it. 38 and counting. The first Deacons were enlisted to allow the preachers plenty of time with God and the Word. When was the last time that anyone complained, “Preacher, your not spending enough time with the Father!” Over the last 19 yrs, I have set my own schedule. In the last few years I have been allowing more “God time” than “ministry time”. Then, while sitting here today, it occurred to me that the phone wasn’t ringing, I had no pressing engagement, the sermon was ready (relatively) for next Sunday, I wasn’t expected anywhere by anyone for anything. The Spirit brought to my mind the words, “He restores my soul.” We all know where that comes from, but do we permit ourselves the luxury of having our souls restored without feeling guilty over the expectations of others? No one came screaming, “Pastor, you’re working to much”, or “Pastor, we need to pay you overtime”, or “Pastor, we need to send you and your wife on a cruise” during the first three decades. Now that the Good Shepherd wants to “restore my soul”, I’m not going to feel guilty. I’m sort of liking this....
For generations, Americans have been influenced by the Puritan work ethic. While believing that prosperity was an evidence of God’s pleasure with a person or group of persons, the Puritans none-the-less subscribed to a life of hard work. Small wonder that they did so well. Unfortunately, austerity was the hallmark of their journey, including but not limited to their worship practices. In a very old volume appropriately titled The Sabbath in Puritan New England are accounts of the primitive nature of the Puritan church meeting place and the retrospectively entertaining sagas of benches, endlessly long prayers, dry preaching and the debate over providing a source of heat during the brutally cold New England winters.
While making his way from truck driver to Pastor my Dad encountered the salt-of-the-earth kind of folks who believed in hard work for everyone, including the preacher. We had that joyful experience of living in housing provided by various churches known as a parsonage. The good church folk treated it as a great favor to the Pastor, especially by conveniently locating it next to the church building. And because the Pastor was so favored with such accommodating living arrangements, he certainly didn’t need as much income to survive. What they never admitted to was that this living arrangement allowed them to “keep an eye on the Pastor”. Many a Pastor has lived under this kind of microscope in which the Deacons all had keys to the parsonage and felt no need to announce themselves upon arrival. Oh, how I miss those romantic days. NOT!
Scrutiny. Good word so long as I am the scrutineer. Not-so-good word if I am the scrutinee. How a Pastor spend his time is important. The Puritan work ethic scrutiny expressed itself over time as making certain that the Pastor “puts in his time”. Churches historically have expected the Pastor to be working when they are (8-5) and then ministering when people are available (5-whenever). While offering him vacation time, there have always been those who have “watched the clock” and “watched the calender” to insure that he has “put in his time”. It’s almost as though there was an unwritten rule: “we have to punch a clock to get paid, so should you.” Need anyone wonder why my call to ministry was a “surrender”?
38 and counting. That’s 38 in addition to. My journey has never been about whether I “put in my time”. I’ve been a workaholic. I don’t doubt that the long days, weeks and months of self-denial have paid huge dividends to church growth, including our success in church planting. I know what it is to go weeks (made up of 14 hr days) without a break. I know what it is go months without a week off. Frankly, I can’t second guess whether I was right or wrong during those stretches. After all, when you bring the baby home from the hospital, you do what you have to do, when you have to do it for the sake of the welfare of the child. That was then. This is now.
In 38 years there have been a lot of casualties. Very few that began their ministries at the same time as I are still “pulling at the oars”. While some crashed and burned under the strain, other went down in flames to immorality, impropriety or infamy. It’s been tough learning how to “take it easy” but I’m working on it. The predecessor in my previous church didn’t buy into the expectation of others. When criticized for not “being in the office” enough, he responded with, “You don’t even know what I am doing when I am there. For all you know, I could be playing video games.” Of course it didn’t hurt that he was retired military. I plan on serving until I don’t, not going down in flames.
I think that I finally get it. 38 and counting. The first Deacons were enlisted to allow the preachers plenty of time with God and the Word. When was the last time that anyone complained, “Preacher, your not spending enough time with the Father!” Over the last 19 yrs, I have set my own schedule. In the last few years I have been allowing more “God time” than “ministry time”. Then, while sitting here today, it occurred to me that the phone wasn’t ringing, I had no pressing engagement, the sermon was ready (relatively) for next Sunday, I wasn’t expected anywhere by anyone for anything. The Spirit brought to my mind the words, “He restores my soul.” We all know where that comes from, but do we permit ourselves the luxury of having our souls restored without feeling guilty over the expectations of others? No one came screaming, “Pastor, you’re working to much”, or “Pastor, we need to pay you overtime”, or “Pastor, we need to send you and your wife on a cruise” during the first three decades. Now that the Good Shepherd wants to “restore my soul”, I’m not going to feel guilty. I’m sort of liking this....
Monday, July 9, 2012
Curves
I ride a motorcycle and not just any motorcycle. I’ve been riding since 1973. Mine is probably a familiar account. Growing up, my mother was as opposed to the idea of her children ever owning a motorcycle as any mother might be, until. The big ‘until’ was when Dad bought one. “Thank you Dad!” Climbing onto the back of a motorcycle cured our Mom of any anti-motorcycle thinking. Even today, at age 79, she loves riding as much as anything else in her life. Dad and I began with Honda 350s and worked our way up. I’ve never owned anything but a Honda. Never needed to. My current ride is a 2002 Honda Gold Wing. What makes a Gold Wing so special is that it is super smooth, super quiet, super quick and it really loves curves.
If you’ve never ridden, chances are you can’t appreciate the appeal of curves to a motorcycle enthusiast. My greatest riding days are when I see a road sign with the familiar “Curves Ahead” symbol. I guess that the appeal is that you can take curves at a much greater speed on two wheels than on four. There is an adrenalin rush that comes from left, right, left at high speeds feeling the tug of gravity that does it. Perhaps the most famous curved road in America for bikers is known as the “Tail of The Dragon” at Deal’s Gap, North Carolina: 318 curves in 11 miles. While I may love the curves, my wife does not. Obviously, curves aren’t for everyone.
Church work and especially church planting is about dealing with curves. While it may be theoretically possible for someone to go from 0 -1000 in church growth in a straight line, I haven’t met that person. In Kingdom work, curves are those unexpected challenges to a perfectly good plan of getting from here to there. It all looks so easy and simple on paper. It all sounds so effortless in the books and at the conferences. The book that needs to be written and the conference that needs to be offered is “Curve Management in Kingdom Strategies”. There is a famous Tree of Shame that stands outside the Deal’s Gap Hotel decorated like a Christmas Tree with various parts of motorcycles that have been recovered from the bikes that didn’t make a curve.
When we were looking to plant in 1993, our first curve was a law making it illegal for churches to occupy commercially zoned space. I didn’t see that one coming. Along the way another curve was the Life Safety requirement for a voice evacuation fire alarm system that added another $7000 to an already over-extended budget. I didn’t see that one either. The biggest curves have become County Inspectors who have their own set of rules, not even on the books, that have to be met before they will approve construction. If you haven’t figured it out yet, curves can make you or break you. While I may love them on a motorcycle, I don’t love them in life. How many church planters crash and burn because they can’t take the curves? The solution?
Major League Baseball is all about hitting. If no one hits, no one wins. The greatest hitters in the game do so by anticipating the pitch. Most big hitters love fast balls because they are straight pitches and require the least amount of solid contact to clear the fences. A good curve ball or slider may be the hardest to hit yet some have made it their bread-and-butter. Casey Kotchman plays first base for the Cleveland Indians. While the average player aspires to a .300 hitting average over a season, he has raised the bar. In 2011 Casey hit .453 against slider and curve pitches. When you figure it out, a curve can be an asset. If you wonder why it’s been two months since I last wrote, just think c-u-r-v-e.
If you’ve never ridden, chances are you can’t appreciate the appeal of curves to a motorcycle enthusiast. My greatest riding days are when I see a road sign with the familiar “Curves Ahead” symbol. I guess that the appeal is that you can take curves at a much greater speed on two wheels than on four. There is an adrenalin rush that comes from left, right, left at high speeds feeling the tug of gravity that does it. Perhaps the most famous curved road in America for bikers is known as the “Tail of The Dragon” at Deal’s Gap, North Carolina: 318 curves in 11 miles. While I may love the curves, my wife does not. Obviously, curves aren’t for everyone.
Church work and especially church planting is about dealing with curves. While it may be theoretically possible for someone to go from 0 -1000 in church growth in a straight line, I haven’t met that person. In Kingdom work, curves are those unexpected challenges to a perfectly good plan of getting from here to there. It all looks so easy and simple on paper. It all sounds so effortless in the books and at the conferences. The book that needs to be written and the conference that needs to be offered is “Curve Management in Kingdom Strategies”. There is a famous Tree of Shame that stands outside the Deal’s Gap Hotel decorated like a Christmas Tree with various parts of motorcycles that have been recovered from the bikes that didn’t make a curve.
When we were looking to plant in 1993, our first curve was a law making it illegal for churches to occupy commercially zoned space. I didn’t see that one coming. Along the way another curve was the Life Safety requirement for a voice evacuation fire alarm system that added another $7000 to an already over-extended budget. I didn’t see that one either. The biggest curves have become County Inspectors who have their own set of rules, not even on the books, that have to be met before they will approve construction. If you haven’t figured it out yet, curves can make you or break you. While I may love them on a motorcycle, I don’t love them in life. How many church planters crash and burn because they can’t take the curves? The solution?
Major League Baseball is all about hitting. If no one hits, no one wins. The greatest hitters in the game do so by anticipating the pitch. Most big hitters love fast balls because they are straight pitches and require the least amount of solid contact to clear the fences. A good curve ball or slider may be the hardest to hit yet some have made it their bread-and-butter. Casey Kotchman plays first base for the Cleveland Indians. While the average player aspires to a .300 hitting average over a season, he has raised the bar. In 2011 Casey hit .453 against slider and curve pitches. When you figure it out, a curve can be an asset. If you wonder why it’s been two months since I last wrote, just think c-u-r-v-e.
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