LifeVesting » Turning Points

How Mrs. Mays Got Her Four-Year-Olds to Listen

Andy Wood — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 15:02:23 +0000

Jackie Mays was a legend. Maybe not everywhere, but certainly in some of the circles we roamed in when our kids were small. And to a couple of four-year-old twin girls, Mrs. Mays was larger than life.

Sending your kids off to school for the first time is a big adjustment. Especially when they’re your oldest, and they’re the ripe old age of four. Enter Mrs. Mays. Not only was she a faithful member of our church in Birmingham, she was one of the K-4 teachers at Grace Christian School. And a legendary gift she was, to both parents and their little darlings.

“Daddy, Mrs. Mays says…”

“Daddy, that’s not how Mrs. Mays…”

In Mrs. Mays’ class they learned the basics of reading and writing and that other “r.” They learned the pledges and the Star-Spangled Banner. (Cassie used to come home with that wistful, “I just love America.”) They learned to love God’s word, and learned the gospel and about heaven and hell and the price Jesus paid to snatch us from the one to take us to the other. And they had fun learning it all.

There were no assistants, aides, or volunteers. Just one amazing woman and a room full of four-year-olds, who most days sat mesmerized or did what was expected.

I want to tell you one of her not-so-secret secrets. It’ s one of the things that made Jackie Mays a teaching artist who could capture and hold the attention of her students. It was revolutionary to me at the time.

If you were talking and nobody was paying attention, and what you had to say was important, what would you do? If you’re like most people, including every teacher I’d ever had, you’d raise the volume. Say it a little louder. Emphasize a little stronger. Start naming names. Yell if you must.

But even a four-year-old instinctively knows, as Seth Godin recently pointed out, “yelling is a waste of time, regardless of how urgent the issue is.”

When Jackie wanted her class to listen, she turned herself down. Quieter. Almost whispering. Not mumbling, mind you. Clearly, energetically, passionately… she got soft. And like clockwork, it worked. Kids leaned in. Got still. Listened. Seth Godin again:

Have you ever encountered a really stressed, undertrained gate agent at an airport? She starts yelling into the microphone, strangling her words and insisting, demanding and EMPHASIZING just how urgent it is that David Johnson come to the gate immediately…

It doesn’t work, because we shut her out. Like a toddler ignoring his ever more insistent parent, it’s so easy to turn off the yelling. Just as we ignore the all caps emails, the flashing banner ad and the sirens in New York.

On the other hand, Seth says, “Whispering piques our interest and demands our attention.” Jackie Mays was a genius at it.

And so is God.

Remember the time Elijah had just about had it? Burned out, given out, and called out by a woman who was a real Jezebel, he just wanted to die. Remember what God did to reset his bearings? Standing in the mouth of a cave, past an earthquake and a whirlwind, Elijah finally heard the voice of God again… whispering.

You and I want God to yell it out. We want loud answers, clarion calls, roaring solutions, handwriting in the sky. And what’s scary to me… how many of us would have been content with the noise and the outward displays, even though they lacked the true voice of God?

But the problem is, humans are uniquely talented to filter out the loudness. And you’re no exception.

So… when God really wants to get your attention, He lowers His volume. Silent. Holy. Calm. Still. Peaceful.

Manger stuff.

Have you wondered lately why God seems so quiet? I think there’s a reason. He has something to say, and He doesn’t intend to mumble. But He does intend to be heard. And noisy hearts can’t hear on that level. So He waits for you to get some things out of your system.

The exhaustion.

The discouragement.

The rants.

The busy.

The noise – even good noise. (Reminder: The angel armies shouted out in the fields where the shepherds were. But the real glory of God in the highest was resting back in town in a feeding trough.)

Even the miracles and big displays of power.

He waits for you to be still and know. To listen for the whisper.

In all her ways of pointing my children to an educated, Jesus-filled life, that may have been Mrs. Mays’ greatest legacy. She taught them to listen for the whisper.

In the past, God spoke to our people through the prophets. He spoke at many times. He spoke in different ways. But in these last days, he has spoken to us through his Son. He is the one whom God appointed to receive all things. God made everything through him. The Son is the gleaming brightness of God’s glory. He is the exact likeness of God’s being. He uses his powerful word to hold all things together. He provided the way for people to be made pure from sin. Then he sat down at the right hand of the King, the Majesty in heaven (Hebrews 1:1-4, NIRV).

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What to Do When You’ve Suddenly Lost Your Vision

Andy Wood — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 07:22:34 +0000

The other day I turned left out of a parking lot and started heading south on Avenue Q, between 19^th and 34^th Streets in Lubbock, where I live. If you’re not familiar with that stretch of road, it’s a seven-lane thoroughfare, with three lanes each heading south and north, and a turn lane. Big. Wide. Sprawling. Busy.

It was in the afternoon, around 3:00 or so. I was talking on the phone with Joel, my son. Traffic was busy enough, but not nuts. I was in the middle lane, with cars pretty much all around me – left and right, front and back. I was probably about a quarter mile from the 34^th Street intersection when the strangest thing began to happen.

I went blind.

Well, sort of. I don’t know what else to call it.

My left eye had the sensation that somebody had put a manila-colored sheet over it, and I couldn’t see a thing out of it. Meanwhile, my right eye began closing up. It felt like a slightly darker-than-manila-colored substance began seeping into it from the sides, and I was able to see less and less until the right eye was sealed completely shut.

All at about 35 miles per hour.

And on the phone.

The first thing I did was tell my son I needed to call him back, something had come up. I remembered there was a car about 150 feet in front of me and another about 250 feet behind me.

I began to pray and panic. Or maybe panic and pray. I was desperate to reopen the right eye but my hands were frozen to the steering wheel. I felt my heart starting to race, and my first instinct was to slam on the brakes. But another instinct took over:

“Just slow down.”

But when do I stop? And what’s going on? And why in the world can’t I see? And how am I going to keep myself from getting killed, or killing somebody else?

All the eyebrow lifting in the world wasn’t getting my eye back open. Finally, I did the only thing that could possibly have helped…

I woke up from that really scary dream.

Who is among you that fears the Lord,

That obeys the voice of His servant,

That walks in darkness and has no light?

Let him trust in the name of the Lord and rely on his God (Isaiah 50:10)

Sometimes, as Isaiah explains, even people who fear and obey the Lord suddenly find themselves with a sudden loss of direction or clarity. It’s as if somebody turned the lights off, and suddenly things that are your friends in the daytime become obstacles or enemies at night.

Or, in the case of my dream, sometimes you’re minding your own business and doing everything you know to do that’s right, and you lose the capacity to see where the next place to go is. Or to recognize potential danger. Examples:

Being faced with decisions – large or small – and suddenly being lost as to what to do.
Being in what our spiritual fathers have called a “dark night of the soul,” where everything else appears normal, but you feel spiritually distant, disconnected, or even depressed.
For no apparent reason, you have no guarantees for what lies ahead, or no explanations for what is going on right now. With no confirming feelings, every outward circumstance seems to contradict what God is saying.
Reaching a point in your leadership where people are looking to you for direction, and you are absolutely clueless or confused.
In all of this, racking your brain to try to figure out where you have gone wrong, and having no answer to that question because as far as you know, you’ve done everything right.

Between Isaiah’s counsel and the dream experience, let me suggest a few strategies for dealing with a loss of vision, in the spiritual or leadership sense:

1. Remove as many potential distractions as possible.

You may be a champion multi-tasker. But when the lights go out, things that are helpful when vision is 20/20 may only be sources of mental or emotional clutter in the dark. Be as polite as you can. But say no to your distractions, including distracting people. Just as I had to get off the phone, you may have to cancel that meeting, reschedule that appointment, or put off less vital things – however much you may love them in the light. Loss of vision changes the rules for what is distracting and what is enhancing.

2. Be careful about slamming on the brakes.

Fear or insecurity brings out different things in people. In many cases, people with uncertainties tend to slam on the brakes and remain motionless until they have more assurances of success or safety. But that’s not always the safest or wisest thing to do. Many people in your life, your family, or your organization depend on you to keep moving, even if at a slower speed. Always remember, when you slam on the brakes, the people following you will have to do the same.

3. Don’t speed up, either.

Panic can make you manic. But this probably isn’t a time for bravado or trying to prove something to yourself. Some people instinctively think that speeding up – getting over the next hill or hurrying past the next intersection – will suddenly restore their capacity to see clearly. Not likely. It’s more likely to set you up to do something really stupid.

4. Remain moving in the same direction.

Some people interpret a loss of vision as a reason to yank the steering wheel toward a different direction. I’ll bet you’ve had a boss or pastor or two like this. If they aren’t seeing the assumed results, they turn left. Or right. Or go back. Or (if they’re female) they ask some other blind person for directions. It’s a classic piece of wisdom for discerning the Lord’s direction – go back to the last time you felt His leadership, and continue (or start) doing what He directed you to do.

5. Slow down.

In the dream, the clear leadership wisdom was, “Take your foot off the gas and wait for further instructions.” For some people, including me, the only way the Lord can get their attention enough to slow them down is to turn out the lights for a while. I hate slowing down, almost as much as I hate stopping and waiting. But just as there are certain photographs you can capture only when you’re dead still, there are certain aspects of wisdom you can only receive when you slow down long enough to catch it. So do it. Slow down. Wait for further instructions.

6. Call on the Lord with Confidence.

You’ll never know how confident you are in your ability to see or sense until you lose that ability. You’ll never know whether you trust in your own ability or vision more than God until God is all you have. Even when you can’t trust your vision or your surroundings anymore, Isaiah says you can trust in the Name of the Lord. Which name of the Lord would you like to trust in right now? Provider? Light of the World? Resurrection? Healer? Strong Tower? Decide today that with or without visual confirmation, you can and will trust in the many ways He has revealed Himself, and call on His name.

7. Find a staff to lean on.

“Rely” means to lean on for support. Remember that old Gospel hymn, “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms?” May I suggest to you that to say you’re leaning on Jesus, you’re actually admitting you can’t stand on your own? A more contemporary (but still old) song says, “Finding more power than I’d ever dreamed, I’m learning to lean on Jesus.” Leaning is a learned art. But you won’t learn it when you’re inspired. It’s only when you’re incapable of taking another step without Him that you learn best to rely upon Him.

Vision – spiritual vision, leadership vision, you name it – is an often-flighty thing. If you’re going through a loss of vision lately, let me encourage you that as you follow the Lord’s leadership and wait for further instructions, as you trust Him and lean on Him, the vision will take care of itself… and God will take care of you.

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The Way Back

Andy Wood — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 08:04:47 +0000

Perdido Key, Florida. I was in a hotel room, desperately reading my Bible, even more desperately crying out to God. Somewhere along the way I had, well, lost my way. And I couldn’t find my way back.

Back to a consistently focused walk with God.

Back to a first-love commitment to Jesus.

Back to a sense of spiritual usefulness and power.

Back to a faith that could at least move me, even when it couldn’t move mountains.

Back to the hope that somehow tomorrow could actually be better than today.

I could have told you how to find your way back to wherever you left your path. But I was lost as last year’s Easter egg when it came to me.

I heard all the things I already knew in my head. Didn’t help.

I heard all the platitudes and steps and methods I’d told others and they had told me. Ditto.

I heard all the sermons I had preached to others about coming back to Jesus, and they were profoundly useless to me.

And what I was reading in the Bible wasn’t helping much, either. I kept reading passages in psalms where David would pray things like, “Vindicate me, O God, because I have walked in my integrity.”

I didn’t have any integrity. And the last thing I needed to see in that situation was vindication. Justice either.

In desperation I silently cried out, “God! Is there a verse in there for the rest of us?”

And He showed me something that changed my life.

He took me to a passage that, when I read it, I just had to read it again, and again, and again. As I read it, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Wave after wave of grace began to sweep over me. And in His faithfulness and love, the Holy Spirit began to turn a light on and show me the way home.

I had hope again.

I had help.

For the first time in months I felt as though I had life surging through my veins.

I began to see truth I had glossed over because I never really needed to see it before. I felt as though I was taken back to the kindest, gentlest of schools and given a lifetime scholarship.

I would like to share with you what the Lord shared with me that day, and the many days following as He continued to unpack the meaning of two simple verses. Of all people, they came from a prophet – a man of God! – who had stumbled badly. Read them… and let them read you:

Do not rejoice over me, my enemy;

When I fall, I will arise;

When I sit in darkness,

The LORD will be a light to me.

I will bear the indignation of the LORD,

Because I have sinned against Him,

Until He pleads my case

And executes justice for me.

He will bring me forth to the light;

I will see His righteousness (Micah 7:8-9, NKJV).

If you take your relationship with God seriously,you need to remember two things. First, you are in a war. The Christian life isn’t all green pastures and still waters. There are important reasons that Paul and others repeatedly used warfare imagery to describe the life of a Christ follower. And if that offends you, go ahead and wave the white flag now; you’re already beaten.

Second, chances are, sooner or later, you are going to be wounded in that battle. One day you are going to be too careless, too proud, or too unguarded, and the arrows of the enemy are going to land in you. And the more convinced you are of your own strength, the harder you will land when you hit the ground.

What I began to learn that day is that the measure of a Christian is not whether or not they ever fall. The measure of a Christian is what they do when they’re on the ground, bleeding from the attacks of the enemy, with no one to blame but themselves.

Anybody can punch out at that point. Anybody can crawl into a cave of despair or shame. But what I learned day after day in that hotel room is that Jesus died for “Christian” failures just like me. Oh, and you, too.

A Way to Remember the Way Home

As the truth behind Micah’s declaration began to unfold, I asked the Lord for a way to remember what He was teaching me so I could light the way home for others. He was gracious, and here is what I learned, based on this passage. I encourage you to memorize this:

I’m gonna get up when I get knocked down.

I’m gonna be led when I cannot see.

I’m gonna face up to the way I’ve sinned.

And the Lord’s gonna win the fight for me.

In the next post I will dig a little deeper and hopefully shine a little brighter light on the way back.

Why?

Because you need it. Now or later.

Because I know what I’m talking about. I’ve lived it. And I’m here to tell you your life does not have to be measured by your wounds or your failures.

Because I don’t want to see yet another believer left wounded on the battlefield with nobody to help.

Because I don’t ever want to have another friend look at me and say, as one did recently, “I know my life isn’t all God wants it to be, but I don’t know how to find my way back.”

Because I’m sick to death of the Christian army shooting its own wounded.

Years ago, in his first solo album, Steve Green recorded a song that now you have to dig a little to find. But find it I did, and I wanted you to hear it. It’s called “Wounded Soldier” and you can hear it here. I also printed the lyrics below.

Listen. With your heart. Pray. Someone near you has gone down in the battle, and they’ve lost their way.

Next time, it could be you.

Wounded Soldier

See all the wounded

Hear all their desperate cries for help.

Pleading for shelter and for peace

Our comrades are suffering –

Come let us meet them at their need

Don’t let a wounded soldier die

Come let us pour the oil

Come let us bind the hurt

Let’s cover them with the blanket of His love

Come let us break the bread

Come let us give them rest

Let’s minister healing to them

Don’t let another wounded soldier die.

Obeying their orders,

They fought on the fronlines for our King

Capturing the enemy’s stronghold

Weakened from battle,

Satan crept in to steal their lives

Don’t let a wounded soldier die.

Come let us pour the oil

Come let us bind the hurt

Let’s cover them with the blanket of His love

Come let us break the bread

Come let us give them rest

Let’s minister healing to them

Don’t let another wounded soldier die.

Let’s minister healing to them

Don’t let another wounded soldier die.

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Put Your Stinger Up

Andy Wood — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 15:02:34 +0000

Here comes Ed.

Here comes bad news.

Have you ever had anybody like that in your life? They love you. They’re for you. But no news is good news. And if you ever see them coming, something’s wrong. Somebody’s complaining. Somebody’s offended. Somebody’s angry. And they’re coming by to help.

Ed was that kind of guy. I once told him, “Ed, just once when you come by, let me know I’m doing something right.”

Never happened.

That said, Ed taught me a couple of very valuable lessons, one of which I repeat regularly to this day. It’s the lesson about the stinger.

Whenever Ed would come by to let me hear the latest stanza of “You Suck,” at times my brain would send signals to my face that weren’t too pretty. And as my face would get redder and my eyes would light up with something other than godly, Ed would say in his courtly, Southern-gentlemanly way, “Awright now… put cha stinger up.”

I began to realize that like a threatened bumblebee, when Ed walked in, my “stinger” came out. I began to look for a reason to get defensive. To feel offended before I ever even knew who the offender was. To so arm for battle that any old enemy would do.

I also learned from Ed’s I-hate-it-when-he’s-right coaching that I had just as much capacity to put my stinger up as I did to go into attack mode.

Can you relate?

Have you seen enough bombardment from the critics that your stinger has a hair trigger? Or maybe you’re living in a continual state of stinger outness? (That’s my scientific term for it.)

Have you ever had your stinger out and started inflicting punishment on people who were completely innocent (probably the people who love you most)? Have you ever decided to be offended, or defensive, or hostile before you even knew why?

Or maybe you’re in a position similar to Ed. You really care about somebody who’s their own worst enemy.

A few years ago, I realized again that I had been living with a lot of frustration, control issues (“nobody’s gonna tell me what to do!”) and overall hostility. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I began hearing Ed in the head again (hadn’t seen him in years).

Awright now… put cha stinger up.

I realized that so much of the frustration and tension I had been living with was the result of living constantly with my stinger out. The problem with that is that when we live that way, we begin to attack the people who are the closest to us, the ones we love the most.

Stingers beget stingers. If you’re living defensively, waiting for the next offense, others will sense your defensiveness or experience your stings, and will retaliate. What I realized during that season a few years ago was that that nearly everybody in my immediate work and family circle was walking around with their stinger out. It seemed as though everybody was spending half their time tiptoeing around avoiding someone else’s stinger, and the other half ready to pounce or pout because of the next perceived offense.

Having my stinger out continually also makes me bitter toward someone before they ever do anything to “earn” my bitterness. I’m left to walk around mad and isolated, which exposes me to real danger.

Stingers also beget incredible forms of imagination and deceit. When my stinger is out, my walls are up. And because they are, I can’t see and hear what’s going on in the heart of the person who may be as close as my side or face. So I’m left to imagine what they’re thinking, feeling, saying, or doing. And the more I imagine, the more I miss it. Without honest, face-to-face dialogue – without the things that build trust in a relationship, including vulnerability, I’m left to my own imagination. Not a good thing when the stinger’s already out.

Other things make for sharpened stingers.

Fatigue. When you’re exhausted, you lose your sense of discernment and understanding because that takes time and energy. Why not just sting people and they’ll leave you alone?
Stress. Bees have stingers; they also have wings to fly away. They also have the sense to recognize when to use one or the other – or when to return to the nest or go to work. Continual stress robs us of that sense.
Disappointments. As kids, most of us dealt with disappointment with training wheels on. Adult disappointment is a completely different thing. And when you’ve felt it a few times, it’s easy to start bracing for it – and out comes the stinger.
Physical pain or sickness. Your body is already in defense mode. It’s really easy for your emotions to follow.
Rejection. The most vulnerable of the painful experiences, passing through that a time or two will leave you ready to pounce if you’re not careful.

All of those tiring or painful experiences can leave us wanting to hurt somebody or simply not aware of, or in control of, our reactions.

I’m sitting outside on a peaceful morning, watching some bees have the time of their lives. We have these amazing crepe myrtle blooms, and the bees are hard at it – pollinating or doing whatever it is they do with boundless energy. Somewhere not far away, I’m sure, they have a nest to which they retreat. They also have a phenomenal set of wings that can take them other places in the event of danger or more opportunities.

Oh, and they have a stinger. And did you know… most bees never, ever use theirs?

If you’re living from offense to offense, conflict to conflict, or in a state of perpetual drama, there are other solutions. Healthy solutions. Happy solutions. Loving, peaceful solutions. Learn from the bees, for crying out loud…

Go back for some rest in the nest.

Fly away for a little while. Leave the room. Or the state.

Rediscover the beauty in hard work, or maybe work hard at leaving the world a more beautiful place.

But for your sake, and the sake of those around you, if you can’t hear what I’m saying, listen to Ed…

Put your stinger up.

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I’ve Gotta Get Out More

Andy Wood — Wed, 10 Aug 2011 14:46:24 +0000

For the last six years I have had the privilege of serving on the adjunct faculty of Regent University’s School of Undergraduate Studies. When I started, Regent Undergrad was a simple two-year degree completion program, designed to help people complete a bachelor’s degree so they could attend the prestigious graduate program founded by Pat Robertson of The 700 Club and CBN fame. But now RSU, as it’s called by insiders, is a four-year institution of its own.

And I hear they’re thinking about starting a golf and tennis team. Woo hoo!

Anyway, one of the high points for me is the Fall Faculty Workshop, where they fly people in from wherever to attend a day or two of meetings for training, inspiration, coordination, and schmoozing.

Especially schmoozing.

Whatever my day job has been during the last seven early-Augusts, it has been a highlight since 2005 to return to the scene of my Ph.D. work, with its stunning campus, caring people, and fresh ideas.

Did I mention schmoozing?

With a lot of turnover, growth, and the ebb and flow so typical of a young, growing enterprise this is an annual opportunity to make connections. And memories. And yes, impressions. Add to that the fact that this Coastal Alabama boy had not left drought-ridden Texas since Thanksgiving last year, and hadn’t seen rain in over six months – I was ready for a change of pace. And, of course, to make an impression.

Well, maybe not like the impression I made at the DFW Airport. Catching the Skylink to the next terminal, I go long-striding through the open doors, luggage in tow, and plow my head right into the overhead hand rails. Yeah, that got everybody’s attention. And left an impression… on my forehead.

I’ve gotta get out more.

Then there was the TSA check-in at the Norfolk Airport at the wicked-early time of 5:30 a.m., Eastern. I was going to be prepared. I was not going be one of the reasons the line got held up by some yokel who didn’t know a boarding pass from an itinerary. After all, I was a seasoned traveler! So I couldn’t imagine why the TSA agent just looked dazed and confused when I presented my boarding pass and photo ID.

Oh. Wait. That was a credit card.

I’ve gotta get out more.

After a day of meetings, exchanged ideas and fellowship, the high point of the day was the dinner banquet. Adjunct Teachers of the Year were to be awarded, and we had the opportunity to hear the esteemed David Gyertson, gifted speaker and former Regent President – a pioneer of the school, back when it was called CBN University.

I showed up stylishly late and found that tables were assigned. Imagine my surprise when my assignment was not with my department, but with Dr. Gyertson, the Dean, and other assorted professors. And the empty chair was next to the Dean. Score, I thought to myself, all the while wondering why, exactly, I was there.

Serving must have started early, so I started working on the salad in front of me as I was also busy looking interesting and intelligent to the Dean, seated to my right.

Have I ever mentioned that I’m not a good multi-tasker?

“Um,” said the Dean, “Did you know that you just put coffee cream on your salad?”

Sigh…

I didn’t win the Adjunct Faculty of the Year award. But watch for me on a later edition of The 700 Club, where maybe I can present a few other fresh serving ideas for your next banquet. (Hmmm. Maybe I should tell them about the Holy Spirit salad.)

Anyway, if the goal was to make an impression, I have my reward!

I’ve gotta get out more.

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A Community of Fathers

Andy Wood — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 06:49:26 +0000

“Joel Andrew Wood! I call you to walk with me in Integrity, Responsibility, and Accountability, and to join me in this community of men!”

There, through a line of tiki torches and a longer gauntlet of whooping, encouraging, cheering men walked my son. For fourteen years I had been his hero. Tonight he would be mine.

As he reached the end of the double line where I was standing, I placed a special necklace around his neck that he has to this day. Then I turned him to face those men and said some of the most powerful words I have ever spoken: “Gentlemen, this is Joel Andrew Wood, my son, in whom I am well pleased.”

I have always lived with the honor of walking in my own father’s unconditional favor – even when he didn’t always approve of my choices. On this night 11 years ago, I had the greater honor of publicly declaring that same kind of blessing over my son.

A Fatherless, Manless Culture

Ours may be the only culture that has no formal point where a boy becomes a man.

Maybe that’s because we have no clue how to define one.

Maybe it’s because we’ve left the defining to idiots.

Or maybe the worst possible scenario is reality – We’ve assumed that manhood was defined in the privacy of our homes. That sounds noble, even a tad godly. But when 60% of American boys will live at some point in a home with no father, can you see a potential problem with that?

On this particular weekend 11 years ago, a group of us attempted something different. We took fathers and sons on a retreat. We also invited Daddy stand-ins and fatherless sons to join us. And we talked a lot about what it means to be a man.

We talked about Integrity – that what others see in us is what they get, particularly when they see us as men of God.

We talked about Responsibility – refusing to be a victim of the past and accepting the role of being a God-reflector in the world.

We talked about Accountability – knowing we will be judged for what we do with what we have, and having men in our lives who assume the role of overseers, who will let us know if we’re screwing up.

The Rite of Passage Ceremony

Then came the climax of the weekend – the Rite of Passage Ceremony. It started on a big field, where three men stood at different places. The boys-to-men went to each of the three – each of whom represented one of those three key concepts. They were required to explain their definition of that respective word. The guide would then give them a bead with the first letter of the word on it.

After receiving each bead they would go to one of the other men (not their father), who would pray for them to have that particular quality. They would then repeat the cycle with the other two words.

After they received all their beads (I. R. A.) the boys went to their fathers and told them how they felt about those concepts and who had prayed with them. They would then ask their fathers to take them to the Place of Wisdom.

The dads would blindfold their sons and lead them on a “trust walk” across the camp, guided only by the father’s words. They journeyed over sand, hills, bridges, and all kinds of ground. The Place of Wisdom was located on the opposite end of the camp. It was dark with the only light coming from a fire. There we – father and son – would pray with an elder from the community of men. The elder would pray for us, and some would speak prophetically into our lives. Then he would put the three beads on a cord and give it to the father, who would later put it around his son’s neck.

This served as a powerful picture to Joel (and me!) that other men were always available to him for prayer, wisdom, and encouragement. In a culture where the only choices for men seem to be foolish isolation or a politically correct herd mentality, it was refreshing to see God’s alternative.

We are community.

But that community doesn’t take place automatically. We must be intentional about developing it, or our sons will grow up, like many of us, in a relational and influential wasteland.

But when we do intentionally bind together in the name of the One who revealed Himself as “Father,” we set in motion a powerful course of events.

We give wings to our own sons to soar into excellence in their God-given assignments and relationships.
We offer healing and hope to the wounded, who will never hear the Blessing in their own biological father’s voice.
We move beyond “raising Godly children” to “raising Godly men.”
And we prove to our “sons” – natural and otherwise – that God was right: Two really are better than one, and a threefold cord is not easily broken.

From Father of Men to Father of Fathers

To this day, the message of the New Testament speaks to me as Father in three ways. First, it tells me that I can’t call my son into something I’m not modeling. Integrity, Responsibility, and Accountability must begin with me.

Second, regardless of my checkered history in living out those qualities, I can begin today moving toward them, and so can Joel. We may never arrive at perfect integrity, etc., but we can die with our faces set in that direction.

Third, I don’t have to be his only model. I am part of a community of men, and each has the opportunity to influence my son. Throughout his now-25 years, God has placed incredible role models in his world. They have spoken instruction, encouragement or correction into his life, and he’s a better man because of it.

And at no time is that more important than now.

In less than a month, the son will become a father himself. And Jackson Andrew Wood will have a community of men all his own to model for him, and explore with him, what it means to be a godly man.

I have the unspeakable joy of being a witness to that.

And a part of that.

And I am blessed… and well pleased.

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Upwind of Ground Zero

Andy Wood — Mon, 02 May 2011 05:44:22 +0000

This is raw – straight from my journal and unedited, except for a few explanatory items in brackets. It was written on September 11, 2001. At the time I was traveling with Resource Services, Inc. as a church capital stewardship consultant.

This morning my phone woke me up in the Albany, NY hotel where I was staying. It was Robin, making sure I was all right. She said the World Trade Center had been hit by a plane in an act of terrorism. I turned on the TV and was transfixed by the images of what I saw. Two planes, one hitting each tower. Then the subsequent collapse of both buildings. Then the news that the Pentagon had suffered a similar fate from another airplane.

How do I begin to describe the horror, the fear, the fascination, and the numbness I felt? Then my cell phone began to ring. First, Amy Shillings from RSI. Then Connie Smith. Then Mother and Daddy. Then Robin again. Then Daddy again. All making sure I was OK.

I finally decided at about 11:00 to get out for a while. The beautiful, clear sky of September in upstate New York belied the scene of billowing smoke and debris that was taking place a couple of hours’ drive south of here.

I met a black man, Anthony, on the hotel elevator. He wanted to know if I was going toward the mall. “Come on,” I said. I’ll take you where you need to go.” Anthony was en route from one girlfriend to another. No kidding. Then later would catch the bus for a two-hour ride back home. To his fiance.

I dropped Anthony off at the mall, and, still in the parking lot, decided to check my voice mail. I heard the calls from [RSI CEO] Carl Hefton, [RSI President] Bill Wilson, and others – expressing care and support, encouraging us to do what we felt we needed to do, informing us that the travel office was prepared to assist in any way we needed. I felt loved. Cared for. For once, not alone. And there in the mall parking lot, I just cried like a baby.

I realized that I had never seen the “real” Albany; all I’d ever been exposed to was the airport and Wolf Road. So, in an effort to be anywhere but cooped up in the hotel room, I took a ride downtown. What a beautiful state capital and state education building. Both evacuated and closed for the day. And the State University of New York! Amazingly beautiful. Why did I wait until today to see this?

I drove up the Hudson River and wandered through Troy, the home of the original “Uncle Sam.” Then back to the Macaroni Grill. I hoped that I could have that life-changing dish I’d had before – one of the finest plates of food I’d ever experienced. Yes, Tracey said, they still had that. But today, it wasn’t so life-changing. I think they burned the chicken a little. Or maybe nothing would taste quite right today.

Back in the hotel room, I continued to watch the devastation. Listen to voice mail. And, of course, contact the churches I was supposed to visit. Stoney called my voice mail from First Baptist in Folkston [GA], wanting to make sure I was OK. That was neat. East Glenville, where I was scheduled to be tonight, wanted to proceed with their meetings, albeit at a later time. They wanted to have a prayer service at 7:00, then have the training meetings at 8:00. I called [Pastor] Jim Burcham at FBC in Upper Marlboro [MD]. They had members who worked at the Pentegon and Andrews AFB. All were accounted for and safe. He was unsure what they would do about their meetings. I told him that I would be driving from Albany to DC tomorrow, and that whatever he felt appropriate, we’d work with him on. He said he’d know something around noon tomorrow.

I took a short nap late in the afternoon. Continued to talk back and forth to Robin, then later the girls. Some idiot, the girls said, had called in a bomb threat at Monterey [High School]. Whoever it was dialed 911, and they traced the call and caught the stupid fool(s).

I drove to Glenville and arrived at the church early. Talked again to Robin, who wondered if we should get money from the bank in case we needed cash.

It was good to be at the prayer service. And that’s primarily what it was. [Pastor] Ron Sylvester read some scripture intermittently, and people prayed. We sang a hymn to start and to close the service. Other than that, we prayed. Once, as in previous times during the day, I was overcome with waves of grief. I focused on several passages of scripture, namely Psalm 91, John 16, Philippians 4, Psalm 27. Somebody prayed about the Lord being our strong tower, and how even when our earthly towers were reduced to rubble, the Lord was a tower who couldn’t be shaken, where the righteous could run and be safe. I wanted that, I told the Lord. I wanted to run to Him. To be safe. To be that righteous. I cried out to Him for His help.

My mind and heart were drawn to Jesus’ statement of fact and promise in John 16:33. “In the world,” He said, “you will have tribulation.” No arguing here. “But be of good cheer. For I have overcome the world.”

When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Jesus had already overcome that. When the Oklahoma City bombing took place, Jesus overcame that. When the world has faced disasters, fears, pestilence, and destruction, it did so from a position of having been overcome by the Lord Jesus.

How can we look at such tragedy and evil and say that we can have peace because our Savior overcame the world?

1. He died for the sin that prompted it. The unspeakable evil displayed before the world today was evil that the Son of God willingly, lovingly, bore the guilt of.

2. He loved the people who perpetrated it. And even in the face of their greatest evil, He refused to stop loving them.

3. He redeemed our lives from the destructiveness of it. He lifted our feet from the miry clay. He redeemed our lives from the pit. He brings healing, hope, and help to shattered worlds and broken hearts. And no evil is greater than His ability to bring peace and solace.

4. He limited the days of it. No matter how grave, how severe, He has promised a day when all of this will be no more. When God will bring his ultimate redemptive purposes to pass, and this world will dish out trouble for the last time.

5. He walks with us through the worst of it. “Nothing,” Paul said, “can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus.” Nothing. Not tribulation, distress, peril, sword. Not terror, death, or hostility, either. We have peace because we have Him. “In Me,” He said, “is peace.” Not in military strength. Not in financial prosperity – that was vividly portrayed again today. But in Him. And tonight, I was reminded again… Peace is my birthright, because I am in Him.

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The World of Wordfare

Andy Wood — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 17:07:31 +0000

Six Signs of a Spiritual Attack

“Well, how did it go?” Robin wanted to know.

“I just want to be teachable,” I said in a hollow, measured voice.

“What did he say?” she asked – getting ready to rise up in my defense.

What did he say, indeed? The scene happened during my first pastorate. Our church had grown quickly and had experienced changes, which is never an easy thing. Now we were trying to establish our annual budget and define our biggest priorities. And a man I’ll call Joe wanted to know if he could meet with me.

When we got together, the first words out of Joe’s mouth were, “It is obvious that you aren’t here to help our church grow, but to make a name for yourself.”

Ouch.

I listened mostly (although I did tell him I didn’t appreciate him judging my motives). I listened as he talked about church’s former days. I listened as he talked about troublesome people. I listened as he offered his version of a solution to our problems. I listened (and stared, frankly) as he “led” us in prayer – weeping all the while.

And I went home, still listening.

I Hate Criticism.

For years I hollered to whoever would listen that “there’s no such thing as constructive criticism.”

I was wrong.

That said, nobody gets up in the morning hoping somebody will catch them red-handed being human. But if hearing what you don’t want to hear is the only way to help you get where you truly want to go, then it’s worth it in the long run.

Being attacked is another story, however.

“Attacked” is a word you’ll often hear to describe what’s taking place behind the scenes in somebody’s Christian experience.

“I’ve been under some real attacks lately.”

“Sounds like you’re being attacked by the enemy.”

In describing a recent experience that produced a lot of pain and anxiety, three different people said that to me. “This is warfare. You’re under attack.”

Was I? How could I know for sure? How could I know that this wasn’t “iron sharpening iron” or somebody “speaking the truth in love?” What if what one person called Satan was really God?

Same goes for my encounter with Joe back in the day. Was it a call from the Lord to be teachable, or an underhanded attack by the devil, using a church member as his tool?

The World of Wordfare

Like knives in a drawer, words can be used as a constructive tool or a destructive weapon. For example, Christian maturity and kingdom growth are the result of “speaking the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15). One word from an empowered believer can “sustain the weary” (Isaiah 50:4). Words, though painful at times, are like prods that cause others to spring to action (Ecclesiastes 12:11).

On the other hand, followers of Jesus are engaged in an epic battle with the evil forces. Paul says that “we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12, NLT).

Their weapon of choice? Words.

In the hands of the enemy, words are arrows aimed at your heart (Psalm 64:3). Words of a gossip, while enticing, go deeply into your soul (Proverbs 18:8). Job said that the words of his fake friends were “like a mighty wind” (Job 8:2).

No wonder Proverbs 18:21 says that “death and life are in the power of the tongue.” But it isn’t always easy to tell which – death or life – are contained in the words you hear. In the World of Wordfare, sometimes your friend appears to be your enemy and your enemy appears to be your friend.

Discerning the Source

How do you know the difference? How can you tell if the words of others are an arrow aimed at the soul or just an uncomfortable prod to get you moving? Here are some ways you can recognize an attack for what it is.

1. Look for the lie.

Good words aren’t always easy to hear; sometimes they hurt because the truth hurts!

Attacks are different. Attacks are either outright lies, or they feed into lies. Remember, Satan is the father of lies and a false accuser. He kicks the guilty when they’re down, accuses the innocent, and treats the forgiven as if they’re still under judgment.

2. Trace the target.

When someone needs to coach or correct, their words are often aimed at weaknesses – often weaknesses you are already aware of. The aim, of course, is to encourage improvement in those areas of weakness.

The enemy, on the other hand attacks at your point of confidence because that’s where your greatest reward comes from (Hebrews 10:35). Example: If you believe yourself to be a person of integrity, Satan will attack your integrity in a way that will cause you or others to question it. Remember, you don’t have to lose your integrity to lose confidence in it.

3. Inspect the fruit.

Gracious words, even when dealing with sensitive subjects, are intended to build up. When someone encourages you to grow or change, it can be uncomfortable or even distressing. But the end result is sure to be something you are grateful for.

Attacks, on the other hand, are meant to tear down. Do you know people who can only seem to feel good about themselves when they’re putting others down? Whatever else they may be, they are tools of Satan. Respond accordingly.

4. Identify the focus.

Healthy conviction is aimed at behavior. If someone criticizes something you did or should have done, you should take a hard look at it. Even if their communication is clumsy, you could be on the receiving end of some truly constructive criticism.

Attacks are aimed at you. At the kind of person you are. They question or presume upon your motives. They use words like “always” and “never” to define you. Attacks are greased by labels aimed at cheapening your value. Pick one – fool, idiot, lazy, slob, whore, thief, incompetent, any word containing “ass” – all these and more are weapons formed against you.

5. Sniff out jealousy.

Love fuels corrective words; attacks are fueled by jealousy. Of course, nobody ever admits they’re jealous. But remember, Satan’s fall grew out of jealous ambition to have what God alone had – the authority and glory of heaven. And now he’s jealous of what you have – the unmerited favor and unconditional love of God. He can’t steal that from you. But he can and will use people’s words to cause you to question it.

6. Take the torment test.

Godly rebuke, however painful at first, produces growth, reconciliation, and peace. Attacks produce fear and anxiety. That’s why John says, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18, NIV).

Though sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference, there is a difference between honest conflict and spiritual attacks – between tension and terror. Tension may produce frustration and pain, but it almost always has some form of possible resolution. But when you find yourself worried over imagined outcomes, or paralyzed by fear from moving forward with your life, this is not a people problem. Recognize who the real enemy – the ultimate terrorist – is.

Responding to Attacks

The reason it’s so important to discern between criticism and spiritual attacks is that the responses are completely different. The godly response to criticism is to humble yourself, apologize if needed, get teachable, and often change course.

The response to attacks is to stay the course, and let God do your fighting for you. Whipping the devil is not in your job description. Standing against him, however, and resisting him, is.

And what of those people who are his tools? Love them. Forgive them. Pray for them. Speak well of them. And remember who the real enemy is.

+++++++

Remember Joe? I went to the Lord and asked, “What do I do with this?” And He led me to this scripture:

Behold, I Myself have created the smith who blows the fire of coals

And brings out a weapon for its work;

And I have created the destroyer to ruin.

No weapon that is formed against you will prosper;

And every tongue that accuses you in judgment you will condemn.

This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord,

And their vindication is from Me,” declares the Lord (Isaiah 54:16-17).

“Andy,” He said. ”It was of me that he came. But what he had to say was not.”

Through that experience, the Lord taught me two things. First, HE sovereignly creates the fire that forms the weapons aimed against me. That builds character.

Second, HE makes sure that the weapons formed against me (specifically the “tongue that accuses me in judgment”) wont prosper. That, He said, is your heritage. And your vindication is from Me.

That was true back then. It’s still true today. For me. And for you.

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Discouragement Never Sits Still

Andy Wood — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 16:36:38 +0000

I can take you to the spot.

I can point to where I was standing.

The old, worn gold carpet is long gone, I’m sure. The house on Watson Road has likely been redecorated many times since we lived there.

But there’s no mistaking that spot where I made one of the most life-altering decisions of my life. And get this: I never told a soul about it. In fact, I never uttered a word. But in a silent transaction of the mind, will, and emotions, with three simple words I began a process of sowing to the wind… and reaping a whirlwind.

The words?

Give.

Up.

The Back Story

It was about this time of year. I was living in one of my dream cities, and had the privilege of being the pastor of what I considered to be my dream church. “This,” I said to myself often, “is why God called me into the ministry.” It wasn’t a perfect place (have you ever seen a perfect church?). But I was genuinely happy there, and felt blessed to be a part of what God was doing in people’s lives.

But behind the scenes, other forces were driving me to distraction. We lived in constant financial pressure – complicated by the fact that my wife had been suffering severe joint pain for a couple of months and had been forced to quit her job. We had no idea what was causing it (we know today it was lupus). So round after round of fruitless medical tests, coupled with the loss of her income, made the financial stress nearly mind-numbing.

And that’s what was on my mind that afternoon, when I reached that spot on the stairs. Driven to distraction, trying to figure out the bills, I looked up and saw my wife standing in the kitchen near the top of the stairs.

And she was smiling. Happy. So glad she wasn’t working, and was feeling better.

And then came the choice.

I quit.

It wasn’t her fault she had gotten sick.

I quit.

It wasn’t her fault she was feeling better from less stress and more rest.

I quit.

It wasn’t her fault that I didn’t earn enough money to pay for the debts and obligations we had accumulated. Nor was it my employer’s fault. It was mine. But the me that always had another solution, or could always buy a little more time, had just run out of ideas.

I quit.

Discouragement in Motion

I guess I should clarify. I didn’t quit writing checks. I didn’t quit drawing a salary. I didn’t quit going through the motions of trying to manage money.

But I did give up my sense of expectancy.

I did give up my willingness to plan ahead.

I did give up my vision for the future in that one area of my life. We were in survival mode. And anyway, few things hurt more than the death of a dream.

Meanwhile, every day I would return to my happy place and put on the happy face. If people asked me how I was doing, the answer was always the same – a ministerial smile and cheerful reply: “Good!”

Spiritual Cancer

But in places not even I could see, a cancer of sorts was growing. Creeping slowly, crawling imperceptibly at first, the discouragement I chose to exhibit over finances began to spread to other areas.

First the money. Then the marriage. Then the ministry. (There were probably other things as well, but none of them start with “m.”)

Here’s what I didn’t know about discouragement then, that I do now: Discouragement never sits still.

Mine didn’t.

Yours won’t, either.

Any more, when somebody tells me they’re discouraged, I no longer care what the presenting issues are. They just told me they have cancer, and that is what needs the most help.

Why I Allowed the Discouragement to Spread

There is a lot more to that saga; discouragement is just the tip of the iceberg. But it was the starting point for a world of unnecessary hurt. And all because I didn’t address it for what it was.

The discouragement, which ultimately led to depression, grew because:

1. I treated it like a temporary mood rather than an emotional poison.

I kept thinking I would get better, and for short bursts, I would. But trudging through life with discouragement is like sleeping with a cobra. You may survive for a night or two, but sooner or later, you’re going to get bit.

2. I didn’t share my feelings with my wife.

In trying to protect her feelings, I hid mine. There is no other way to describe this but stupid, stupid, stupid.

3. I didn’t get wise counsel from godly sources.

Once upon a time in church world, there were two things you never talked about – money and sex. Now there’s just one – money. And anyway, I was the pastor! I was supposed to have all the answers – not all the problems. Which led to…

4. Pride.

I was too proud to ask for help. Too proud to admit I had a problem. Too proud to admit that I could solve the problem(s) I did have. You name the stripe, I had it – spiritual pride, intellectual pride, masculine pride, and more.

5. Inaction.

True to the nature of discouragement (definition – “to give up your willingness to take bold action”) I froze. For the longest time, I did nothing, or only what I had to.

6. Failure to call on the Lord.

This was the saddest of all. For whatever reason, this time I stopped asking and expecting. I assumed the role of provider, and that’s still God’s job.

Giving Yourself New Courage

If I could go back today and talk to the shell of a man I once was, I would remind him of David’s crisis of leadership, when his own mighty men wanted to stone him. They were blaming him for their troubles, and David was distressed. But 1 Samuel 30:6 says that “David encouraged himself in the Lord his God.” Literally, he “strengthened himself” or “found his strength.”

I would remind him that it’s through inquiring of the Lord, trusting in the Lord, yielding to the Lord, standing firm in the Lord, and recognizing that all discouragement is of the devil that his courage is renewed.

I would point him to people who loved him and cared about his success and peace – starting with his own wife and family.

I would gently point him to the next right thing to do – not a long list of every right thing to do.

I would stubbornly remind him that his worth was not measured by his circumstances, but by the one event that counts – the act of God’s Son loving him to the point of dying for his guilt.

I would point him to a hope that exceeds his ability to figure, to conjure, to scheme, or to fix what’s broken.

I would let him know how deeply loved he was.

I would do that for you, too, if I knew you were discouraged.

In fact, I think I just did.

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Drafting Partners

Andy Wood — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 16:42:11 +0000

In 1976 the legendary Wood Brothers of NASCAR fame won the Daytona 500 with another legend, David Pearson, as their driver. It would appear to be their last Daytona win ever.

One state over, another Wood brother, not so legendary and not related, graduated from high school in the same year.

Fast forward 35 years.

On Saturday, Trevor Bayne of Knoxville, Tennessee turned 20. On the same day, Cohen Thomas of Lubbock Texas celebrated his first birthday.

In conjunction with his 20^th birthday, Trevor Bayne got to drive for the legendary Wood Brothers in an 800-horsepower machine with the classic #21 paint job and a snazzy in-car radio system.

In conjunction with his first birthday, the other Wood brother’s grandson got a play fire truck (2 babyleg power) with a classic siren and a snazzy pretend cell phone.

In a moment to remember forever, Sunday Trevor Bayne led his team in a prayer over the snazzy in-car radio system, then brought the Wood Brothers back to Victory Lane in Daytona for the first time in 35 years. He stood on the door of his car and pointed to the sky – and he wasn’t saying “We’re number one,” friends.

In another moment to remember forever, Sunday Cohen Thomas was dedicated to the Lord Jesus and given a special Bible to remind him for a lifetime of that day. And the prayer of this Wood brother is that when Cohen turns 20 – or 80, for that matter – he, too, is pointing others to Jesus.

Looks like there were a lot of celebrations this weekend, with more to come. Soon Shepherd Andrew Wiley will arrive on the scene.

And in a surprise move, last night at 2:00 a.m. we found out that his “drafting partner” cousin – due around July 21 (his great grandmother’s birthday) – is indeed a boy. Looks as though the next Wood brother – Jackson Andrew – is well on his way.

So how was your weekend?