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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…]
(A Turning Point Story)
About 20 miles east of Denton, Texas a small ridge runs north and south along what people in Dallas know as Preston Road. Visible from 10 miles away, all along the top and slope of that ridge rest the homes, churches, and schools of Prosper – a community of farmers and commuters to Dallas. I had the first of what would be many of these picturesque views in September 1981, when I virtually limped there for a job interview. Little did I know the significance that town would have in my life, family, and ministry to this day. This is about the roads that led into, out of, and back into an unforgettable town nobody had ever heard of.
Four months earlier, I had loaded up all my earthly belongings in a Hertz rental truck, put my gorgeous Irish Setter puppy, Dixie, in the cab, and left Mississippi for Texas. I was to start seminary in the fall, and thought I’d get a head start on a job and hopefully a church to serve. I was so happy, so optimistic, I literally sang my own version of a Swaggert song:
On my way to heaven,
Stoppin’ off by Texas on the way!
I got a sales job representing the prestigious Ft. Worth Chamber of Commerce. Rented a really nice house. Was leaving a wonderfully successful youth ministry. God was good! Life surely would be good, too.
It didn’t turn out that way. [click to continue…]
He puts smiles on the faces of little boys.
He sprinkles sweetness on little girls.
He gives dignity to solemn vows, and sacredness to relationships.
He brings purpose and satisfaction to the striving and seeking of your life.
And it is this life of Jesus that brings healing and peace into the broken life.
I live – I live – because He is risen.
Those words, from a musical titled “Living Witnesses,” profoundly impacted my life more than 30 years ago. So much so that we had them printed on the cover of our wedding brochure in 1983. And on this week in which all over the world we pay attention to the fact that Jesus lives, I find myself thinking of them again. Read them again, slowly. Deeply.
[click to continue…]
