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(With humble apologies to the Mary Stevenson Estate)
One night I dreamed that I was dipping my feet in the dog’s water bowl
And walking the lonely journey across my patio,
Leaving wet footprints along the way.
Soon I noticed tiny little footprints appearing behind mine.
[click to continue…]
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I want to take you to a place where, frankly, we aren’t invited. For just a minute, let’s be one of “those” people we often gripe about – those rubberneckers on the highway, who seem fascinated with somebody else’s messes.
In this case, we’re creeping up to a closed bedroom door, where on the other side, we can hear muffled sobs.
A man’s sobs.
A few days ago, somebody from home had rocked his world. The news was bad, and every ounce of optimism he once had was crushed.
You should have been here yesterday. He was really blubbering then. And he will be again tomorrow. Fasting, too. And praying. Lots of praying.
But as he cries and prays and cries and fasts and cries some more, something happens. [click to continue…]
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From a sign in Chicago.
I’m fairly certain more people turn right looking for North Avenue than they stay straight or turn left.
Why?
Because the mind can’t focus on the opposite of an idea.
People tend to go in the direction of your arrows (your example), not the direction of your words.
They gravitate toward what you tell them to avoid, unless you actually point them in a better direction.
They become what you criticize or fear or hate or warn against or dread.
What you say is communication; that’s important.
Where you point is leadership. That is vital.
(Photo by Andy Sernovitz)
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A couple of weeks ago David Hayward, a pastor and gifted artist/cartoonist, posted this picture on his blog site, in a post titled “How I’m feeling about the church lately.”
(Used by permission)
I can relate. For more than 30 years, it has been my privilege, my headache, my joy, and my nightmare to work with broken people or broken churches. Prior to launching Turning Point Community Church in 2003, three of the four churches where I was senior pastor had experienced major divisions, open conflicts, forced termination of my predecessor, or some other kind of grief or pain. Some had lived with the crud for so long, they’d arrived at the conclusion that this was somehow supposed to be normal. “I’m sure it’s like this everywhere,” they’d intone. “Oh, no it isn’t!” I’d scream inside, all the while smiling on the outside.
The brokenness isn’t limited to the organization. David’s cartoon reminded me of something we used to proclaim loudly here. Underneath the doorway leading into our rented facility, our church used to hang a banner that represented a passion and sense of calling for us. Every Sunday, every worshipper at Turning Point walked under its message:
A Place to Begin Again.
I roughly estimated that for a long season, 80 percent of the people who arrived at Turning Point for the first time came here to heal. Some came from broken marriages; others from broken lives of addictions or economic messes. Many came bleeding from the most insidious wound of all – the church wound. [click to continue…]
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Stage 1: Allocate your resources.
Stage 2: Explore the possibilities.
Stage 3: Follow your passion.
Stage 4: Execute Your Plan
“Okay, people, settle down. This meeting will now come to order! You guys in the back, keep a lookout for tax collectors and terrorists.
“We’ve called you out today because we have a new arrival in town. This young man says he’s come from Persia, from the King’s palace. Says he’s one of us, but has an important message. Sir, you have the floor.”
“New governor, you say? I never knew we had an old one. No disrespect, sir, but you look a bit young to be a governor. How much government experience do you have?”
“Okay, so let me get this straight. You’ve never held public office. You’ve never been a governor, mayor, or even a public defender. You’ve never commanded an army or even seen a fight. Your one job has been to serve up wine to the king.”
“Well, okay, I’m impressed. It seems as if the Lord’s been opening up some pretty impressive doors. But again, with all due respect, sir, this dump ain’t Persia. Heck, we’re not even a city. And I appreciate the fact that you’ve been doing some crying and praying for us. But you’re not the first guy to try to rebuild this wall. We’ve been trying this for 40 years. So why don’t you scurry on off back to your cushy job? I’m sure the king’s a bit thirsty by now.”
“Wow. You’re serious about this, aren’t you? I’ve never seen anybody stand up to the entrenched politicians like that.
“You really believe, don’t you? I’ve never seen anybody with that kind of confidence in God, except ole’ Ezra, the priest.
“You’re going to actually do this, aren’t you? I’ve never seen anybody hold a weapon in one hand, and a building block in another.
“Governor, could you hand me one of those bricks? I’m in.” [click to continue…]
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I want to share with you 10 things I pray for my children, all of whom are married adults now, living elsewhere. They are listed in order, but not necessarily order of importance or chronological order. More on that later.
I didn’t make the list up – somebody already beat me to it. But as soon as I found it, I decided that this was a good “handle” for interceding for anyone I love. But I’m particularly drawn to praying this for my children, and their children as they come along. Here goes…
1. Deep personal fulfillment. I want them to be happy! Not in that shallow, vain use of the word, but for them to find life satisfaction – true joy – in their lives, their relationships, and their work.
2. The success and strength of their descendants. To use a biblical term, I pray that my grandchildren and beyond would be “mighty on the earth” because of the things my children taught them and demonstrated to them.
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(A Turning Point Story)
“Reverend Wood?”
I always know two things when somebody starts a conversation with that. First, something interesting is sure to follow. Second, whoever it is doesn’t know me very well.
It always feels a little awkward when somebody asks, “What should I call you?” I never have liked the “reverend” thing; the only time I put it in front of my name is when I’m signing a funeral book. I once had a reason for that; now it’s just habit.
My Baptist heritage made me “Brother Andy” to most people. To me, that’s a higher life form than “reverend,” but still felt a bit, I don’t know, dated or preachy or something.
Whenever my wife hears the Abraham-Sarah story, she enjoys calling me, “My lord.” “What would you like for dinner, my lord?” She thinks it’s really funny. I haven’t a clue why.
Since my move to Texas, I’ve been “Pastor Andy” to most people in church. That’s OK. “Andy” is even better. I’ve always liked the simplicity of just being me. But after watching people stumble over all that title biz for a while, I finally took a cue from one of my college professors: a simple “Your Majesty” will do.
Anyway, “Reverend Wood” is at the bottom of the list. And on this day the conversation that followed was interesting, to be sure.
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Kinetic Church was robbed. I don’t mean by the refs in the church league basketball tournament. I mean a thief (or thieves) stole a trailer containing 75% of the Charlotte area congregation’s equipment in early March, leaving the portable church with virtually nothing.
What would you do? How would you respond? How would you define your life if you discovered that three-fourths of your tangible assets – to say nothing of the hundreds of man-hours invested in labor – were instantly gone?
Can’t relate? How about the time somebody stole your dreams or your hope? Or your reputation? Or your innocence? Or your marriage?
You won’t believe what these guys did.
They went on the offensive. They started a billboard campaign with five different messages, as well as a YouTube video aimed directly at the thief. Check out the video below.
Kinetic Church’s response illustrates some powerful lessons in transforming painful experiences into remarkable opportunities:
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