(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 7: The Way of Warfare)
December 23
The first thing Ryan Fisher felt when he awakened was an obnoxious cold wind, pelting his face with sleet. The searing pain coursing down his legs and across his chest further aroused him. Opening his eyes, he saw movement outside, but the angle of his SUV in the ditch made it difficult to tell what was happening. One thing was sure – the distant siren and flashing lights were for him.
Another thing became certain pretty quickly. Assuming he lived, Ryan Fisher would spend Christmas alone. There’d be no plane to catch, and nobody boarding a plane back to Birmingham. Not in this storm.
It was the end of the day from hell, punctuating the week from hell, capping off the year from hell. And now, freezing and in shock, Ryan Fisher closed a mental door. He was done. [click to continue…]
Aunt Ruth was neither my aunt, nor was she named “Ruth.” Through a set of circumstances I don’t have time to relate, “Aunt Ruth” was what I wound up calling her.
Aunt Ruth had eyes that danced long after her feet were unable to. She defied aging – said she didn’t have time or sense enough to grow old. She detested religiosity and people who took themselves too seriously. “Fuddy Duddy Christians,” she called them. Aunt Ruth was wise. Through her sometimes-sharp exterior, she loved me. And she taught me one of the most important lessons I ever learned.
“Life’s full of mysteries,” Aunt Ruth said. In fact, she said it a lot. Aunt Ruth loved mysteries. Not the murder-type, but those principles in life that defy logic. It always amused her to get me in an argumentative mode and throw out one of her “mysteries.”
Like the time I was angry because someone had been spreading lies about me. “I’m gonna find out who started it, and set them straight!” I informed her.
“Forget it,” Aunt Ruth said. “Get to the bottom of it, and all you get is some stirred up mud and a mad catfish.” [click to continue…]
I expected to learn some things and be reminded of some things when I made my first trip to Thailand. I was not disappointed. To put an exclamation point on our trip, here are some things I learned along the way…
You may think you know what humidity is, but you’re wrong.
My wife had one unending childhood adventure.
Churches everywhere are made up of humans, with human needs, human potential, and human flaws.
Pastors may not speak the same language, but the leadership issues they face are the same worldwide.
It’s amazing the trust you can gain with a sincere smile. [click to continue…]
Over the last two weeks, I have spent meaningful time with six different pastors who live 12 time zones away from me. Each is uniquely gifted, varied in experience and have completely different assignments. In the course of that time, I’ve seen and heard some things, learned some things, observed some things. Here’s a sampling:
- Each pastor has his own unique model or approach for ministry.
- Each is convinced his ministry model is the right one, at least for him.
- Each has questions or concerns, if not open criticism, about other models of ministry practiced by others.
- Nearly every one of them has been hurt pretty deeply by people in Church World.
Dear Daniel,
Thank you for taking the time to share your heart and concerns with me last week. I respect your honesty, and am frustrated that you have experienced so many disappointments and hurts in your church relationships. While I can relate to many of them, only you know how savagely this has impacted your life and the life of your family members.
I know it has to be a bit surreal to always feel as though, in your words, “you kept missing the memo” about what was expected beyond a simple faith in Christ. And to be caught in between two conflicting women “leaders” had to have felt like a no-win situation.
I still don’t understand what the whole turf war stuff was all about. But I do understand the tension between trying to show grace and love to someone in deliberate sin and yet not approving the lifestyle. I guess until Jesus comes, we’ll still be arguing about that one. [click to continue…]
News Flash! This just in… In a shocking reversal of public opinion, somebody thinks something’s wrong with the church.
Here’s a blast from the past from an old B.C. Cartoon. Picture the anthill, and the Dad ant poking his head out the top. His teenaged son is coming back from the movies.
Dad: “How was the disaster movie, son?”
Son: “A disaster.”
Son: “Why do they make so many disaster movies, Dad?”
Dad: “So when Armageddon comes, we can all go back to sleep and say we’ve seen it already.”
I can see a 2009 update:
Dad: “How was the disaster movie, son?”
Son: “A disaster.”
Son: “I thought we’d see a bunch of explosions, death and mayhem.”
Dad: “Let me guess – you saw the Ted Haggard documentary instead.”
Pick your spot – inside the church or outside. Mainline, sideline, or no-line. House churches and megachurches. Political and “news” organizations. Cultural elitists and preachers. Gay rights advocates and Fred Phelps. Everybody seems to converge on one common opinion:
The church sucks. [click to continue…]
(A Turning Point Story)
If being a pastor is like living in a fishbowl, then being a pastor in Abbeville was like swimming in a churning aquarium.
Beneath a florescent light.
That never goes out.
Now this is no mystery to the folks there; fact is, I think some of them are pretty proud of it. We’d laugh about it when we weren’t crying about it or stamping out the latest edition of “I heard from a reliable source.”
I knew this wouldn’t be a typical assignment when I went for an interview weekend and Bobby Joe Espy opened the Q & A session by asking, “Preacher, how thick is your hide?” I don’t remember what I said – something lame about leading with my heart. But I remember that this was the first time I’d ever had a chill in my chest.
Now every small town presumes to know everybody else’s business, but here it was elevated to an art form. Here people knew what you were doing and told you about it. After they told somebody else about it first, of course. They told me when my lights were on too late at night, or too early in the morning. They told me when the grass behind the, uh, privacy fence was too tall. And they told me every single time anybody had something to say that was of a critical nature. In Abbeville they called it like they saw it. And sometimes if they didn’t see it, they made it up.
Don’t guess my hide was very thick.
David Peterson was a great friend, which was helpful, since he chaired the committee that brought me and my very young family to the Wiregrass region of southeast Alabama. [click to continue…]
If there’s one thing I can’t stand (actually there are a few), it’s jealous, insecure, or bitter preachers. Neurotic crybabies or arrogant kingdom builders, God help them and us when they’re forced to face their own “stuff.”
Imagine my surprise when I discovered I was one.
A few months ago, my son Joel wrote about a former pastor he had met who now owns a smoke shop. He got burned by a church experience, and I guess he decided to keep the fire going.
I fired off a riff about ministry, and found myself using a compelling phrase to describe our calling – The Relentless Pursuit of the Glory of God.
That term kept resonating in my spirit.
Later the same night, I heard about a new church plant not far away, whose first two Sundays had doubled anything my church plant had done back in the day.
Jealous.
Couldn’t help it. Well, maybe I could help it, but I didn’t want to.
We were going through a difficult season at the time, and here was some guy (actually a great guy) rocking and rolling on his church’s honeymoon.
As I went to bed, feeling sorry for myself for all our troubles and stresses, that original phrase kept coming back. The Relentless Pursuit of the Glory of God. The Lord was reminding me of what ministry – and life – is all about.
[click to continue…]
Thirty years ago, on the first Sunday of April 1978, I became part of a church pastoral staff for the first time. (This is me about 10 years later, in 1988.) Yesterday the awesome people I get to do life with every week made a special day even more special by surprising me with a gift clock.
Over the last 30 years, the Lord has been a very faithful teacher, even when I wasn’t being faithful to him. Here’s a sampling what I have learned, and continue to learn – listed in reverse order of impact.
30. There is nothing on God’s green earth like a seventh or eighth-grade girl.
29. To be effective in youth ministry, kids should see you as an advocate, and adults should see you as an authority. When that gets reversed, it’s time to get out of youth ministry… maybe be a senior pastor.
28. Age, young or otherwise, does not dictate your effectiveness in ministry.
27. The truth of God’s word and a love for people transcends culture and location.
26. Like Jonah, you can’t run from your calling for very long.
[click to continue…]
Fran Cotton is a PK – a preacher’s kid. She saw love demonstrated by her pastor/father in a myriad of ways.
In response to my request for love stories, Fran shared the following example of how loving your neighbor can make you zigzag your way across your yard – and into someone else’s heart.
[click to continue…]
