"They" - A Rant

"They" are at it again.

I was talking to a friend in North Carolina yesterday, and he told me "they" had come to their church. I was disappointed to hear that news. It has been my experience "they" exclusively go to churches. I was just sorry "they" moved south. I guess "they" are not a northern phenomenon after all.

The context of my friend's story was about music in the church. It is a church that has musical talent, especially among its young people. But, the teenagers are not given much opportunity to participate or lead in worship because of "they."

What would "they" say?

"They" are angry!

"They" are threatening to stop giving.

"They" annoy me. Mostly because their objections are based on their comfort level, not on their mission. Tradition overrules. And instead of hearing the command to go, "they" just sit.

I confess. I wish "they" would get going, or go sit somewhere else.

Is This a Joke?

It looked like the beginning of a joke.

Three pastors sat together in a room. An Anglican. A Pentecostal. And a Baptist.

Except, it was no joke. Three men. Three theological persuasions. Three different pastoral roles. And...one Lord!

I have always found it fascinating when we keep our hearts focused on Jesus, that many of the things that seemed so important before, seem less important.

It's not that I don't believe what I believe is important. I think doctrine is huge! I hold on to many of my doctrinal positions with great fervor. They are so core to who I am.

I rejoiced for the three of us that day. We were planning a worship service that involved all the evangelical ministries on campus. We discovered with ease that we had much more in common than what was different. Our mission was the same: Worship. Unity. A campus that needs Jesus.

Three men in a room. The Holy Spirit in our midst. It was a holy moment.

Wearing a Girdle...

I was afraid it might come to this someday. I am wearing a girdle.

And they are every bit as uncomfortable as I imagined them to be. What is worse, is that this abdominal (or is it abominable?) binder is doing nothing to return me to my "girlish" figure. Okay, I never wanted that anyway.

I had surgery on Monday. For years now, I have been putting up with a bothersome hernia. A few weeks ago, it turned into more than bothersome. It became painful. So, under the knife I went.

Now, I am sitting here at 2 AM, dozing on painkillers, but not really being able to sleep.

I know it is slightly ironic, but it is when something goes wrong with my body that I admire the complexity of God's creativity when it comes to the human body. For this slight weakness in the muscle wall has caused the whole of my body to complain: "We are in pain!"

I am incurable when it comes to recognizing design. The whole world shouts at us about a Creator. It speaks every day with its beauty. And when we don't get it, God uses its brokenness to convince us. He even will use pain to get our attention.

Yet, for all the clear communication that is put forth, it is amazing how deaf humanity can be.

"I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

A simple call...

My son, James (aka JJ) called me this morning.

He really encouraged my heart today. He called me for advice.

It is not that this is an infrequent event. He still calls from time to time. But it is nice to know, that even though he is in Boston with his lovely wife (who gives him wise counsel), he still considers my opinion worth hearing.

It is on days like this I feel proud of my son. He has a heart for God. He works hard with young lives that need redirection. And he is wise enough to know that he does not have all the answers.

Good for him! And good for the kingdom of God!

Pops!

On 10 Sep 10, I became a grandfather.

My first thought about this is that I am far too young, but when I look in the mirror, it does appear I am suited for the job. My bald head, gray hair, and somewhat paunchy waist bear a stunning resemblance to the grandfathers in my past.

My second thought is grandfatherhood didn't happen the way I had anticipated. I understand that some will struggle with my struggle, but I had hoped that all my grandchildren would be produced from committed married relationships. It hasn't. I believe my daughter and her boyfriend have made it harder on themselves, but I do hope they will endeavor to make a home where our grandson will know the blessing of a committed marriage and loving parents.

My third thought is about opportunity. Once again, God's purpose for me as a disciple maker is front and center. It is my hope that our grandson will be influenced by the example of his grandparents. It is my prayer that he will see Jesus in us and want a relationship with Him too.

"Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ." (I Corinthians 11.1, ESV)

So I am off...off to be "Pops"...off to another new adventure...off to make a difference for God's kingdom.

Strike!

It rains a lot at Mahaffey. Well, it seems to rain a lot when I am there. Thus, the nickname - "Mud-haffey."

When I say "Mahaffey," I mean PA. I also mean the Christian and Missionary Alliance (CMA) camp. It is where my wife, Dondra, would spend a couple of weeks every summer when CMAers from every corner of western PA would come together to make a unique Christian community.

Saturday night, it was raining in Mahaffey - again. In fact, it was more than just rain. It was a good old-fashioned thunderstorm. Lots of lightning. Lots of thunder. A perfect night to sit on your porch and watch the wonder of it all.

JJ, Natalie, Elizabeth, Joel and I were sitting on the porch enjoying the storm. It was spectacular! And as we counted out the seconds between the lightning and the thunder, we knew that many of the strikes were close to camp.

Just as we made that comment, we saw a tree light up less than 100' from our porch. Whether the light went from top to bottom or bottom to top (or both), we can't say. The strike happened - so fast! But we do know that wood splinters were everywhere. Some were as large as 6' long and as smooth as a saw cut.

It was terrifying and awesome all at the same time. We were shaking with delight. It was one of those events that sort of marks you. You begin to realize that you are not much in control.

"The Heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork."

Legacy

I have just spent a week at Camp Hickory Hill (Varysburg, NY) as the Camp Shepherd. It has been a great week, and though I have been here a lot of times over the past 12 years, this experience seems unique to me.

There is no doubt that I have reached an age when I think about ministry differently. My shifting focus is on what I am leaving behind. It is no longer a matter of using the gifts and skills I have been given, but rather, investing in young people in such a way that they can use theirs. I don't know if I am late in getting into this mindset, but I have found it profoundly fulfilling.

Much of the mystique that surrounds Camp Hickory Hill is about legacy. It is about training boys to be men. It is about training young men to be men of God.

This week, I have been observing young men serve as leaders that I once had as campers. As campers, they were consistent headaches. They stepped over the boundaries. They frequently wandered from the group. They were fidgety. At times, I was tempted to see them as hopeless.

But now, as leaders, they are remarkably different. They are focused. They are servants. They are on a mission to lead campers into a relationship with Jesus. They have stepped forward into a glorious adventure.

It is an adventure that has continued through the ages, beginning when twelve men followed Jesus around the Galilean countryside. I find being a part of that legacy extremely satisfying.

Quirky... (Infusion 2010)

It was at Infusion during a social justice class that a question mark grew in my mind. How come Christians know so little about what is going on in the world? And how is it, that if we do know, we do so little about it?

One might call it the sin of complacency. Yes, I think it is a sin. And yes...I am guilty.

Yet, I feel hope. While I was leading the Encounter (small) group, I was asking each student what his/her dream was for their future. There were lots of good answers, all reflecting a determination to live a life of significance.

There was one young man, however, that startled me with his dream. He is kind of hard to describe. I will call him quirky. I think he might agree with that description. His dream - he is majoring in social work because he wants to go overseas and help stop human (sex) trafficking.

All of sudden, he didn't seem so quirky. He seemed unique. He seemed to be a man on a mission.

You know, I think he will do it. And I think he will be successful.

I will be keeping my eyes on him.

A Jig (Infusion 2010)

Cerebral palsy - no way!

Cynicism - dead end!

OCD - no, no, no!

Cruel friends - losers!

These things were waging war for "Jim's" heart. I could see it as we met together in Encounter groups and in individual conversations over the dinner table.

And yet, he was searching. His physical ailments, seen in his hesitant gait as he walks with a cane, represented his spiritual quest as well. A slow and interrupted pace toward something that makes sense - a purpose.

"Jim" is very much an intellectual. One might call him a pessimist. He will call himself a realist. I will call him "a piece of work." He questioned me on whether free will is a divine joke. He questioned me on whether the whole world is an illusion and only the mind is real. He then asked if I wanted to play chess. I said "no." He thinks too much.

Those kind of cynical questions came to an abrupt end last night when he admitted belief in Jesus was entirely logical. He confessed his sin and walked right into the loving arms of his Savior and Lord.

Today, "Jim" believes.

And I did a jig...

"Jim" smiled.

I think God did too.

I need this Jesus (but I am not raising my hand!)...

It is Sunday, May 30, and outside, there are about 50 college students partaking in a spontaneous worship service. It has been going on for an hour.

Maybe it is not so spontaneous. After all, we just came back from a muddy pond where five students testified of their belief in Jesus. They were all wet. I am a big fan of Christians getting all wet.

It reminded me of the summer of 1971, when at 12 years old, I was baptized in Byron, NY, in what we called "Say's Pond" (I suppose it was called that because the Say family owned it). It is interesting to me that a decision that I made at 11 years old is still as "rock solid" today as it was the day I made it.

Some memories of the day in August 1970 when I crossed over from unbelief to belief remain very vivid. As the invitation was made to become a Christian, I remember thinking, "I need this Jesus." I was very convinced that this was the answer to my problems. But when they asked me to indicate that decision by raising my hand, I thought, "I need this Jesus, but I am NOT raising my hand."

But mysteriously, I opened my eyes only to see that my hand was in the air. This only feeds the debate about the role of free will and election when it comes to salvation. I seemed to have lived the tension, because I knew I needed Jesus, but I am absolutely sure I did not raise my hand that was raised in the air.

Ah...we can debate the tension at another time.

In the meanwhile, let me say - it was a great day. We should do baptisms every day!

A Wild Ride (Conclusion)

This all seems like ancient history now, but it was a valuable lesson for an old guy like me. It certainly is a lesson I have learned before, but to be sure, I needed to learn it again. It is as simple as the old adage, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

If there is anyplace one needs to get that right, it is on a college campus. People are dressed every which way. They act in every way. They are experimenting with life - some experiments are dangerous, some are not.

But beneath each situation is a real person with real needs.

I discovered this once again with my travel companion. He had a job he enjoyed. He had a girlfriend he was nuts over. And deep down, he was in a search for truth.

I hope that in his encounter with me, he got closer to finding it. And I hope that God will grant me an opportunity in the future to meet up with him again. We possess the potential to be real friends, and I must admit, I hope God grants it.

A Wild Ride (2)

As I sat down next to the young man, we introduced ourselves, and I found him already breaking down my preconceived notions about him. He was funny, caring, and passionate. And I found him an enjoyable companion as we flew from Cleveland to Phoenix.

It did get interesting for a moment when he asked me what I did for a living. When I said I was a Campus Minister, he froze up for a moment, and then politely asked, "What does a Campus Minister do?" It occurred to me at that moment that perhaps I should be able to answer such a question.

What DOES a campus minister do? Actually, I did like my answer. I can't remember the exact words, but it was along the line of helping college students discover what the Christian faith is truly about (not what it appears to be) and how one can effectively be on a journey of following Jesus (because it is about relationship, not religion). I am going to think that through a little more, but I like the initial direction my answer took.

As we conversed back and forth, what I discovered is that just as I had preconceived notions about what he would be like, he had the same kind of misconceptions about what a Christian would be like. And so the wild ride continued...

A Wild RIde (1)

Have you ever looked at someone from across the room and size them up to be a certain sort of a person? Like, you see a large woman eating a donut and you categorize her as a person with self-control issues. Or, you see an older man with yellow-stained fingers sucking on a cigarette, and you categorize him as addicted. You may be right. You may be wrong. But you make a judgment nonetheless.

Last Tuesday, I had that experience at the Cleveland airport as I looked across the room when I saw a young man, dressed in black, a pentagram on the back of his coat, and a skull tattoo on his arm. Must be a Satanist I though. Pity the poor person who will have to sit next to him. That will be a wild ride.

Guess who got to sit next to him? Yeah, it was me. And it was a wild ride...

The Journey Begins

22 February 2010

In Psalm 37.4, David writes, “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart” (NIV). I have always found this promise intriguing, for there have been times in my life that God has changed my desires in order to fall in line with His (there is a story behind that statement, which perhaps I will record later). It is interesting how God can make pleasurable something you initially had no desire to do.

One unfulfilled desire, though, has remained a constant since my graduation from Nyack College in 1980 – to work on campus with college students. After 28 years pastoring churches, God has seen fit to grant my desire. Having resigned my position as Senior Pastor at Randall Baptist Church this past June, God has opened a door that I had given up on. I have entered into the ministry fray at the University at Buffalo, and what a delight it is. It is a field ready to harvest.

What a blessing this opportunity is! I had forgotten how fun ministry could be! So, now I have entered into the support-raising mode. I must admit – I hope it goes quickly – for my heart beats with a desire to be on campus fulltime.