What Will You Harvest?*

My mother thought it would be a good idea to give my sister and me some diverse and character building experiences in our early teen years, so she worked it out with a family friend who had just bought a tomato farm for us to help with the harvest. The farm was in Walland, TN between Pigeon Forge and Maryville (pronounced “Murvul” by the locals). The tomatoes were headed for the cannery so we had to pick them when they were just starting to ripen, so they could continue to ripen on the truck and not spoil before they got there. The owner said, "turn the green tomato over before picking it and see if there is a red/pink star on the bottom.” This seemed easy enough to me. So, I was assigned a row and given a 5 gallon bucket to fill just like the 20 or so other migrant pickers. When the bucket was full, a runner would come down my row, pick it up and take it to the truck. By the way, I was much slower than the migrant workers who were experts and very fast. There were about 20 Hispanic workers who lived in one mobile home on the farm for the harvest season, before they would move on to live at the next farm to pick another crop. They were very hard workers and they were very kind to me and my sister.  They shared their homemade burritos with us at lunch time, They were so spicy and hot that they chuckled at us gringos when we asked for water (!Agua, Por favor!).  As we were picking, the owner said, “who is picking the green tomatoes? I thought this was funny, because they all looked green to me except for the red/pink star on the bottom. Well, they followed the buckets back the next round and identified me as the “green picker,” because all my stars were green, not red. It was at that moment I realized that I was red/green color blind. Guess who became the bucket carrier? Yep, the harvesters would yell, “bucket!” and I would run down the row with an empty bucket and exchange it for the full one, which I took to the tractor trailer truck and handed it up to the one who poured them gently in. The days were hot, so after a day of picking we would go to the cold mountain water of Walland Creek nearby to cool off before heading home to eat, sleep and do it again the next day. After a few days of bucket carrying, the owner decided it was a better idea to send me and my sister to the  farmers market to generate another income stream by selling the tomatoes too ripe for the truck. I think the real reason was because about 10 more workers had arrived from another farm and we were picking much too slow and hindering the operation. 

The Apostle Paul encouraged the early church to keep going, keep picking good things to do and choosing to live right so they could enjoy a harvest of real life and true blessings from God. He says to the Galatian church, “Don’t be misled—you cannot mock the justice of God. You will always harvest what you plant. Those who live only to satisfy their own sinful nature will harvest decay and death from that sinful nature. But those who live to please the Spirit will harvest everlasting life from the Spirit. So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.” (Galatians 6:7-9 NLT)  It is our connection with the Spirit of God that changes who we are and how we live, so we can enjoy the blessings that come from those changes. 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!

Just Travelin' Through

 

After my father’s early retirement from medicine and his 35 different missionary travels around the world, my mother found a piece of land on the French Broad River near Knoxville that she knew he would love. It was 18 acres of farm and woodland.  My father, realizing her brilliance, bought the land. Affectionately known as “Tuckahoe,” named for the creek that laves its north boundary line, we instantly knew God had blessed it. My father hunted, fished, farmed, built a log home and a barn, while he became the primary caregiver for my mother who declined there with Alzheimer’s for 17 years until her passing. The family loved and enjoyed my father’s soul refreshing place of solace. The rich bottom land had apparently been enjoyed by the indigenous people many years before, because we found many flint arrowheads when we tilled the garden. The property brought great joy to all those who came there. The peace that washed over you when you drove the gravel road, walked onto the wrap around porch and heard the river, dropped your blood pressure by 10 points. We canoed, tubed, waded, and fished in that cool rolling river. We hunted deer, turkey, and other game birds. We drove the old John Deere and helped plant and harvest the yearly garden. Writing this, I am filled with nostalgia for the life events we celebrated with family and friends there: birthdays, holidays, graduations, funerals, reunions. We also celebrated God’s creation itself from season to season, year to year, high water and low water, living and dying. We watched as bucks jousted in rut and as speckled fawns emerged in the Spring. We watched the spectacle of a firefly show, as millions of them covered the field in Spring… It was better than any firework show I have ever seen and much more calming.  A few years ago, tortured by the prospect of having to sell the place when my parents had both passed away, we tried to make the property a vacation rental. Though it was a popular spot that received high ratings, this became untenable, because it exhausted my sister, and I was in ministry a 1000 miles away and couldn’t help care for the place or the guests. After much prayer and wringing of hands we sold it. We decided it was time for someone else’s family to celebrate life and God’s creation there, while we continued cling tightly to the memories and tell the stories. 

 

As King David was speaking to Israel, he said, “We are here for only a moment, visitors and strangers in the land as our ancestors were before us. Our days on earth are like a passing shadow, gone so soon without a trace.” (1 Chronicles 29:15 NLT-SE) And the writer of Hebrews, speaking of heaven, picking up where the words of the Hebrew King left off, says, “For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.” (Hebrews 13:14 NLT-SE) My family is forever thankful for the blessings and memories from Tuckahoe, “Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart.” (Ecc. 3:11a) 

 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all.

Do Not Worry About What You Will Eat.*

Growing up in my home, one of the ways my parents expressed love to the people they cared about was through food. My mother could cook anything… I used to open the pantry doors and didn’t see much, but when she opened them, she saw endless possibilities. She never seemed to worry because she could take a little of this and a little of that and make delightful meals. My dad could do the same thing with outdoor cooking. He could smoke, grill, and deep fry anything he found in the freezer. Anita’s family also liked to gather around the table to enjoy good meals, good conversation and lots of love. It was a generational thing. My grandmother was a wonderful cook and Anita’s grandmother loved to feed us until we were swoll up like a tick. When our kids were young, we tried to always gather around the table for a hot breakfast every morning and a hot meal for dinner every night. By the time my kids were teens, they began wanting to express how much they liked their friends by cooking breakfast for them. On Saturdays and Summer days, our kitchen became known as the IHOW (International House of Waffles) with the neighborhood kids who would come over for homemade waffle creations with fruit, chocolate chips, syrup, juice, milk and whatever else that made breakfast taste good. Anita always had some waffle mix and fixin's on hand. Occasionally there were “kitchen incidents” where something went wrong. One kitchen incident involved all my girls. We had an overused toaster oven (think 6 of us in the kitchen) and my youngest was reheating an over buttered waffle, which started a flame inside the toaster oven: My oldest and youngest daughters ran around the kitchen flailing their arms and screaming “fire, Fire, FIRE!” My middle daughter, who happened to be walking by the kitchen at that moment, simply unplugged the appliance, calmly opened the door, blew out the small flame like blowing out a candle, and kept walking. The other two just looked at each other, began laughing and fixed another waffle. 

 

God loves us all so much and shows that love when He provides for us in so many ways. When Jesus was talking to His disciples, He tells them to make a priority of loving God and people.  He tells them not to worry.  He reminds them that God knows what they really need and He will provide. He says, “So don't worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you." Matthew 6:31-33 (CSB) One of the ways we can love each other well is preparing good food to share, thanking God for it, and enjoying it together. 

 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all! 

Whitewashed Tomb?*

 

photography by: Omri Westmark

A retired pastor from another church once told me I was  a “whitewashed tomb.” He was not a kind man and if he weren’t a man of the cloth I would have had no respect for him. But what if he was right about me? These were the same words Jesus had used to describe the Pharisees, referring to their sparkling outward appearance, but dead hearts full of hypocrisy.  These religious leaders, in their self-perceived superior positions, used their power and training to shame their followers, and exalt themselves. I didn’t want to be a “Whitewashed Tomb!” So, I began having lunch each month with another retired pastor for whom I had a great deal of respect.  This friend was one of about 10 pastors I have known in my life, who seemed like true shepherds full of the Spirit and Truth, but also humble and full of grace.  This pastor listened a lot then thoughtfully asked questions that guided me to a healthier and more authentic relationship with Jesus. He guided me toward becoming a healthier shepherd.  I thought back on leaders that I had wanted to emulate, who were so shiny on the outside, but I learned later they were bad on the inside. They reminded me of Mark Twain’s classic book, Tom Sawyer. When Tom was whitewashing the fence, he convinced all his neighbors to give up a prized possession to enjoy the “privilege” of whitewashing the fence. Pharisees convinced people to give up their souls to have the “honor” of being whitewashed tombs like themselves.  The Spirit convicted me that I had sometimes made this very exchange.  I was learning how to stand at a distance and shame people about their moral lives, while ignoring their broken soul’s need for Jesus. I also refused to come close to them when they had messed up.  This righteous sounding moralism left us all like sitting ducks when it pertained to sin and it lacked any ability at all to really save us. This included my own soul. There is no way we can ever follow all the rules or be good enough; that is why we ALL need Jesus.  I still have much to learn and my old whitewashing habits die hard, but I’m so thankful for those pastors who helped me learn what it really looks like to belong to Jesus. 

 

Jesus said, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones and all uncleanness. So you also outwardly appear righteous to others, but within you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.”(Matt. 23:27-28)  I would much rather be among those to whom Jesus says in Matt. 11:29, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,  I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Our true faith is lived out by having a close relationship with Jesus, so close that we begin to mirror His actions. Just trying to follow all the rules will leave us feeling self-righteous, hypocritical, and exhausted. 

 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!

Who's Your Daddy?*

 Photo cred: Costumes.com

Remembering back to my first spiritual memory. It is vague, but goes something like this: I was preschool age going to my Baptist Church on a Wednesday Night. The kids wore their Halloween costumes that night because it was Halloween week. Some wore their bathrobes and were Biblical figures like Joseph, Mary, Moses, etc… One may have even had a John the Baptist outfit made of a burlap potato bag. Unfortunately, the outfit I wore that night was a Biblical figure too, but it was a Little Red Devil suit, complete with a plastic pitchfork. Mrs. Borge, the preschool teacher that night, was a little concerned about a kid who would wear a Devil’s suit to church. So, in a very simple way Mrs. Borge told us about how much Jesus loves us and how He wants us to belong to Him. I thought that sounded good, because, in spite of my attire, belonging to the Devil sounded pretty scary.  Fast forward a few years to age 10, I decided that I wanted to let my church know that I belonged to Jesus. I was baptized and did my best to do what I thought Jesus would want me to do. Fast forward a few more years to a mission trip in my teen years and I felt like God was calling me to be a minister of His Good News. I initially accepted, but then slowly, eventually rejected that call. I plunged into rebellion against what I knew to be right and good for the next several years, though I still attended church infrequently. I loved myself much more than I loved God or anyone else. Finally, God got my attention one day while I was sitting alone reading the Bible, reflecting on the moral bankruptcy of my life and the ways I had mistreated so many other people, even some who loved me a lot. God spoke to me inaudibly. He said, “Bill, you are my child and I am your Father, you belong to Me, but you are acting like a child of the Devil.”  I wept and began a journey of repentance. God began to disciple me, reminding me how those who really belong to Him act and don’t act, think and don’t think, speak and don’t speak. I eventually accepted His call on my life to serve Him, I went to Seminary and began to serve Him as a pastor.  Sometimes I still need to be reminded how God’s children act. 

Jesus once warned those who were against Him but claimed to belong to God, the Father saying,  “If God were your Father, you would love me, for I have come here from God… You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desires… there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies…Whoever belongs to God hears what God says. The reason you do not hear is that you do not belong to God.”(John 8:42, 44, 47 NIV11) If for some reason we don’t hear God speaking to our heart, we may need to examine whether we are really one of His. Sometimes though,  we just behave like we have forgotten that we belong to God and we behave like we did when we belonged to the Devil. Listen for God’s voice to remind you Who you really belong to and how His kids act. 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all! 

An Irish Blessing?*

Shamrock photo credit: Wikipedia

 After some difficult meetings in a church where I was a pastor, I sought some wisdom and consolation from a wonderful mentor.  This man had pastored  a large church for many years, planted a church (where my wife had attended 10 years before), and in his retirement he served as an interim pastor at several places.  He also took time in his retirement to encourage several younger pastors. As I complained and wondered out loud how he had managed to love this same congregation for a year when he was their interim.  He remained his wonderful cheery self and simply encouraged me to keep being the shepherd God had called me to be regardless of how the people acted. I told him there were moments when I felt like one of the “sons of thunder” when dealing with some particularly contentious congregants. After the Samaritans did not welcome Jesus, James and John asked, “Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?”(Luke 9:54 NIV) Jesus of course rebuked them, took them to another village, and reminded them that they were to save the lost, not annihilate them. I asked him to pray for me as I was about to meet with the chairman of one of the committees. He said he would pray for me. But as he was leaving,  in his fun lighthearted way, recited an old Irish blessing.  He said, "May those that love us love us; And those that don't love us, may God turn their hearts; and if He can't turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles, So we'll know them By their limp."  We both chuckled a little at the pastoral humor, until a little later that day when I got a call from the wife of this contentious committee chairman saying that we needed to cancel our meeting because he was in the hospital. I said, “I am sorry, what happened?” She said, “he fell off a ladder and broke his ankle.” I was in shock, but found out where he was in the hospital and went to pray with him. Even though we were often at odds with each other, I don’t want to see anyone get hurt like that.  Interestingly though, he was much kinder to everyone, including me, after this incident.  BTW: I never shared with this man about the Irish blessing that was spoken right around the time the incident happened. 

Eventually, the apostles James and John got it.  They matured enough in their walk with Jesus to no longer want to destroy those who disagreed with them. They embraced Jesus’ mission to seek and to save the lost. James became one of the first martyrs for the Gospel at the hands of Herod. John went on to write about Jesus and the importance of loving God and others in all five of His books in the Bible: the Gospel of John; 1,2,3 John; and Revelation. Jesus reminded his disciples and all of us. “But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”(Luke 6:27-28NIV) I’m not sure if this includes praying an Irish blessing over them, but it does mean we have to love them all like Jesus does. 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all.

I Shoulda' Had A V8, or Maybe Not!*

Oldsmobile Delta 88 

credit: 55lincoln on Youtube 

 One Saturday morning, after we had raked a mountain of leaves out of the driveway, my sister was hanging around hoping to drive my mother’s old car back into its place between the garage doors. My sister was in 7th grade, so my father, who had driven a car or tractor since he was 10 years old, thought since she was interested, that it would be a good time to let her begin to learn how to drive.  She would only be moving the car back and forth in the driveway. What could go wrong? My mother had just gotten a new car, so the older Oldsmobile Delta 88 was to be parked outside. My father wanted my sister to place the car exactly between the two garage doors so that when my parents backed out, they wouldn’t hit it. So, she slowly pulled foreward, then backed up again, pulled up, and backed up again… this was not just perfectionism, she also wanted that little bit of extra time behind the wheel. Until the moment when she thought she had put the car in “R” and in fact it was still in “D.”  When she realized that she was headed toward the fieldstone masonry wall, she panicked. She slammed both of her feet on the gas and the brake simultaneously. She lost control because the brake was no match for the giant 455 V8 Olds engine. Its nickname was the “Rocket.” The unequaled early 70’s muscle car torque careened that vehicle into the house so hard it pushed back the concrete and stone wall a few inches, Dad had to put extra jacks under the house to support the second floor. Interestingly, the Olds didn’t have a lot of damage, my sister however, was shaken up and felt terrible, vowing through tears to “never drive again!” My father felt badly for her too, thinking perhaps he may have jumped the gun on letting her drive that soon. He consoled her saying, “everything’s going to be okay.” In my immature sibling way, I teased her about it, making squealing tire and crash sounds for weeks afterward.  She was resilient and did actually drive again in a couple of years. My father taught her to drive a stick shift, and she has had a pretty good driving record ever since. 

Sometimes feeling shame and sorrow over our out of control actions can produce more maturity in our lives, but only if we humble ourselves under it and let it change us for good.  Healthy shame comes from those who love us like God does and want to see us grow up rather than stay trapped in feelings of humiliation from past mistakes. Unhealthy shame comes from immature people who want to gain an advantage over us because of a mistake we have made. Paul was trying to teach the church at Corinth that shame/sorrow can be a good thing. We have to be careful not to let it lead us to make more mistakes. Paul told them, “I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance {i.e. “turn away” from their mistakes}.” (2 Cor. 7:9a). Then he says, “Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.” (2 Cor. 7:10 NIV) At some point we will all be ashamed of something we have done because we are all “fallen.” We can let God grow us up and redeem us or we can get stuck in regret and more bad behavior. Let’s let the pain of shame always turn us back to Jesus. 

Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!