Holy Smoke Trust Jesus!*

 

“Holy Smoke'' pilots

It was finally time. The four kids were sleepy but excited. We were starting our drive to the “Happiest Place on Earth” from Chattanooga. Some of their friends had been to “Dizzy World” every year since before they were old enough to remember, but this was our first trip. Anita had done her homework well. She had figured out with the Disney Vacation rep how we could sleep all six of us, do the meal plan, and add a “park-hopper” pass without going too far over our budget. I, however, was still very anxious about this trip to this large kingdom built on a central Florida swamp. I worried about the taxes and tributes that King Mouse would extract for a few days of exhausting exploration of his kingdom with its elaborate magical facades, excellent rides, and exceptional dining places. Our early morning Tennessee start had us arriving at the Value Resort in time to drop our bags and go to Disney Springs to eat supper. The kids were wide-eyed but tired from the long drive. We got a reservation at the restaurant and walked around the shops of overpriced trinkets, t-shirts, hats, and memorabilia until our name was called. We received our menus and I had my first Disnoshock. I knew I couldn’t keep worrying about the cost of everything or I would make the trip miserable for everyone. So, we went back to the resort and slept restlessly anticipating our first day at the park. I woke up early, got some coffee, and did my quiet time by the pool before anyone else was up. In my journal I wrote something about not being able to relax on this trip. I was concerned about investing all this time and these resources in the hope for a good family memory and it being a flop. I was afraid of all the X’s: exhausted family, exorbitant costs, excessive heat, expensive meals… I needed to know that God was with us and that everything was going to be okay. In my skepticism and doubt I wrote in my journal, “God, If you are in this, I would like for You to write it in the sky.” Everyone awoke, ate some pop tarts, sunscreened our sun sensitive Eurowhite skin, and headed to the park. As we drove, the kids looked out the windows and said, “Mom, Dad! That airplane is writing something in the sky.” Reading each letter they slowly said, “T.R.U.S.T. J.E.S.U.S…” Then reading each word excitedly, “it says, Trust Jesus, Dad! It says, Trust Jesus!” So, with tears in my eyes, we made our way to the park. We had a wonderful 4 days in all 4 parks. Every time I began to worry, God’s miraculous sky message reminded me of Whose Kingdom we really belong to…

 
When Jesus began His ministry, in one of His first famous sermons, He spoke of those in His Kingdom. He reminded His followers not to worry, but to keep seeking relationship with God, trusting Him, and honoring Him with their actions. Jesus knows our propensity to act badly when we are anxious or fearful, its human nature. We take a defensive posture against everything and everyone, even good things and those trying to help us, because our brains go to self-protective “enemy mode.” We see others as a threat even when they aren’t. Worry is a relationship killer. It causes us not to treat others well, because we begin to focus only on our own success or survival and distrust everyone else, including God. Those connected to Jesus, would need to trust that He cares for them. He says, “So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”(Matthew 6:31–34 NIV) Even in King Mickey’s Tomorrowland, we had fun, because we could “Trust Jesus.” My oldest daughter would later learn to trust God in her own journey when she participated in the Disney College Program, living in Orlando by herself and working in Princess Fairytale Hall. She was “friends with” Cinderella, as well as, Pluto, Rafiki, even the Easter Bunny. Do not worry about tomorrow, it has enough worries of its own.

 
( I have since learned that the skywriting was the work of the “Holy Smoke'' pilots, two former crop dusters turned airplane evangelists. God had timed a Holy Smoke, Trust Jesus message perfectly for my family to see it we needed that day.)

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

Beyond Understanding*

I parked, made my way into the hospital, got on the elevator, just like I had hundreds of times before. I typically try to get in the right frame of heart and mind to minister to those I’m going to see after fighting traffic, making dizzying circles in the parking deck looking for a place to park, trying to slide my oversized vehicle into the tiny little parking space, then trying not to scratch the car next to mine while squeezing my girth through the narrow door opening.  Often, as I walk, I pray in anticipation of seeing the patient, but this time was a little different. I felt a prompting to pray for God’s Shalom peace for a certain patient and her husband. I put on my mask and made my way to the elevator, and it became my prayer lift. There were some quiet moments in my vertical chapel until a bell interrupted the silence, and a pleasant automated voice said, “4th floor.” When I exited and walked down the hall, I wondered  if I could go into the room this time. Because of COVID risks, sometimes I could only wave through the glass, and make a praying hands gesture from the hallway to let the couple know I’m lifting them up before the throne of God. Sometimes this patient’s husband was able to come out and pray with me in the hall.  When I arrived that day just outside the room, two nurses were standing there, wide eyed, still in their masks, face shields, gloves, and plastic gowns. I looked in and saw the patient sleeping peacefully  in the bed and her husband hard asleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs.  I was praying another quick prayer, thanking God for His peace and was about to turn around to go see another patient, when one of the nurses asked me who I was.  I said I was their pastor. She looked me in the eyes with a very serious look and said, “did you just pray for them?” And I said, “yes, God had prompted me to pray while I was on the way up here.” She said, “I don’t usually talk about this, but she was very anxious, irritated, and agitated, and he was very empathetic with her discomfort, then instantly, just  a moment ago,  they inexplicably became completely relaxed and fell hard asleep. I have never seen anything like it.” These nurses had not administered any medication that would have calmed her like that, and they certainly would not have given anything to her husband, who was not a patient at the time… I remember getting chill bumps and thanking God for allowing me an up close glimpse of His Spirit miraculously pouring out His peace on two of those He loves! He had given them some much needed rest at a very stressful time in this hospital stay. God had not only seen their distress and relieved it, but He had invited some nurses and a pastor to witness Him at work giving some much needed Shalom to an uncomfortable, pain and stress fatigued couple.  He let us all know that He sees us and He cares. 

In the early church at Philippi, there was some unrest, irritation, and anxiety among some in the congregation. Paul was reminding the church family to pray for each other and themselves.  Paul tells them, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”(Philippians 4:6–7) I used to think this verse was written for us as individuals when we are anxious and needing peace, but it is written in the context of a close group of believers. He says, “hearts” and “minds,” plural, not just “heart” and “mind.”  There is a sense of “Us,” not just “me.”   Jesus sees us in our distress, invites us to join Him in His answer, and He shows up with just what is needed. He sends the Comforter, the Holy Spirit, and He arrives with a Shalom that is overwhelming. God had not only given peace to the couple at the hospital, His peace had impacted those believers in close proximity too.  

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

Almost "Reck'd Life*

Photo: GT Alumni Assoc

Not long after college graduation, I had the amazing privilege of working at the Georgia Institute of Technology as the Spirit Coordinator. Now, even though I had been called to ministry in High School, this was NOT that kind of Spirit Coordinator. It was school spirit, I was the cheer coach for the award winning Tech cheer squad, Buzz the nationally recognized mascot and faculty advisor for the Ramlin’ Reck Club. The students I got to work with were brilliant engineer types. When I was coaching, I needed a translator. You see, I was a liberal arts graduate, and they were electrical, mechanical, and all things technical, math, and science super smarties (who would graduate and make almost 6 figures even in the late 1980’s). I would give instruction and they would just stand and look at me. Then one of the girls on the squad, who was an English Major (yes at GT), would translate what I said into Tech-eze and they would say, “oh okay!” and quickly do what I had tried to ask. The ‘Reck Club students held charge of the School’s Mechanical Mascot, a 1930 Model A Sport Coupe called the Ramblin’ Reck. It had been donated to the school by my boss, Dean Dull, almost thirty years before. This glistening, gold painted, metal mascot was as popular as the award winning, and rambunctious Buzz the Yellow Jacket, appearing at school promo events and the weddings and celebrations of influential Georgia Tech alumni. Buzz, is a whole other story, once stealing the television network truck on the sideline with the camera operator holding on for dear life, and driving it down the track before being stopped, where he narrowly escaped being unmasked. There was a reason why the infamous bee earned his nickname, Buzz… apparently the young man who donned the original mascot suit a decade before would sometimes imbibe in some inhibition eliminating beverages before the game. The young men and ladies who wore the outfit in subsequent years were amazing athletes, sometimes losing 10 + pounds just sweating in the Atlanta heat while running around, crowd surfing, and involving themselves in all kinds of sideline mischief. Perhaps the incident that could have potentially been my greatest public faux pas during my time at Tech involved the Ramblin’ Reck. It was December and all the kids were exhausted from final exams and a grueling class load. So, those who would normally take the antique car to the Ford plant for repairs, were headed home for the holidays. So, yours truly, had to borrow a school van, and hitch the covered car carrier on the back. The Reck was not running at the time, so with no Reck Club or Cheerleader muscle to push it into the trailer, I had to use the tie down, hand winches to ratchet it up the ramp and into place.  As soon as I got the van and trailer onto interstate 75/85 in downtown Atlanta just past the Varsity, I knew there was trouble. The van sputtered and died, before I could get it to the next exit.  I was left there in the middle of 6 lanes of standstill holiday traffic and this was before cell phones were accessible to people on a Student Affairs coordinator’s budget. A police officer politely came to my door and screamed, “get this $#!) out of here!”  While I was trying to explain I needed him to radio a wrecker, Atlanta’s finest walked away, spewing over his shoulder, “I don’t care, get it out of here NOW!!” My only remedy was to leave the cursed van and vulnerable, but covered Reck sitting there, dodge the traffic, and pray neither me nor the Institute’s invaluable icon got hit, (though the school would probably not mourn for my loss like it would their beloved car). I climbed up the interstate’s hexagonal block walls, tried to find a pay phone, but ended up running several blocks back to the maintenance department and getting another van.  The 'Reck had been vandalized a few times in the past, once while it was in my hometown at Neyland Stadium, at the University of Tennessee, after GT had beaten the Vols. It apparently got a new unwanted orange paint job. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for another incident. There were Tech hating, Georgia Bulldog fans who would love to know that the 'Reck was sitting helplessly incapacitated in the middle of the interstate.  With the next van, I scotched the wheels, rolled the other van forward, and maneuvered the next van into position to hitch the trailer. I got the other van towed, and I finally got the Ramblin’ Model A to the Ford plant safely. I was young and so arrogant at the time, you would think that this incident would have humbled me a bit… nope. “Large and in charge,” I was destined for more humbling, until God got my attention and headed my life back toward him again. 

God The Father loves us too much to let us remain in our rebellion against Him. Scripture says that good fathers discipline the children they love. In Hebrews (12:7),  the Scriptures tell us to endure hardship as discipline. When we belong to Him and identify as one of His, He will allow things to happen to us to get our attention. He humbles, disciplines, corrects, and changes us.  God’s people, Israel, had turned away from God in their arrogance and God was getting their attention.  The prophet Jeremiah humbly asks, “I know, O LORD, that a man’s life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps.  Correct me, LORD, but only with justice— not in your anger, lest you reduce me to nothing.”(Jeremiah 10:23–24 NIV) When we are experiencing hardship, it is sometimes God's discipline, let it turn us toward Him to ask for His direction and correction.

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

Big Balloon Ballyhoo!*

 

photo credit to rohrballoons.com

One of the churches where I served was having a Celebrate America Festival. We anticipated hundreds to show up for these events and we were typically overwhelmed at the number of celebrators. This happened on several acres of recreation land across the street from the church. We had games and hot dogs, cotton candy and popcorn, patriotic decorations and American flags, but we were really excited about having hot air balloon rides that year. We had hired the balloon company and sent the deposit months in advance and added them prominently to the publicity. They told us they would come a couple of hours early to set up the day of the festival.  When the day arrived for Celebrate America, two hours before, no balloon. We did not panic, these people were obviously professionals, we were confident they would get it all set up. Then an hour before, no hot air balloon. We were a little nervous, because we had advertised the balloon rides as a major attraction and counted on the balloon as additional advertising. It would make our festival more visible from the interstate and impact the number of people we had the chance to interact with.  But if the balloon with a giant basket below didn’t show, the spirits of the people who came to see it would fall like a lead zeppelin (not to be confused with a British rock band formed in the late 60’s).  If our big balloon ballyhoo was unrealized we could be considered untrustworthy in our advertising, just a lot of hot air about hot air balloon rides, which is not great for a church. We hoped to get to know some of these people who came to visit.   And we hoped to introduce them to Jesus as they became more curious, convinced, and convicted by God’s Spirit, if they didn’t already know Him.  So, thirty minutes before the crowds arrived, still no balloon. We panicked and prayed. We repeatedly tried calling the cell phone of the balloon pilot, but no answer. We were trying to come up with words of apology to the guests looking for balloon rides and then just before the event started, a large dually Ram truck showed up with a balloon and basket in the back. As we arrived, frowning and excitedly asking why they hadn’t arrived earlier as promised or answered our phone calls, the truck driver looked at us with surprise and said “We don’t know what you are talking about. We were just driving by your festival on the interstate and we were coming to ask you if we could offer balloon rides to your guests…” Sure enough the name on the side of the truck was not the company we had hired, but God had heard our prayers and sent some random balloon owner to drive his fabric and basket filled Ram by our event at just the right time. The non-dirigible airship, tethered by a strong rope to the Ram truck, went up and down in the softball field all afternoon and into the night to the delight of 100’s of our Celebrate America guests 3 or 4 at a time. We thanked them and sent them a check for their services.  

We were all surprised by this coincidence that was really a God-incident. We can get so worried about all the plans we make. When Jesus started his ministry, He told us to keep our focus on God first and not worry about all these things we get so worked up and anxious about. He tells us,  “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you. Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:33–34)God provides what we need, even hot air balloons occasionally. Interestingly, the truck didn’t come early to the festival and it wasn’t late either, it came just at the right time.  Jesus' half brother James reminds us, “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.” (James 4:10) We were humbled that day by the seeming evaporation of our big plans, but God lifted us back up with His miraculous provision… we were exhausted but walking on air… 

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

(not a pic from our event, but photo credit to rohrballoons.com)

How I Met Your Mother!*

 

How I met your mother. I had returned home “like a bad penny,” as the expression goes, but perhaps taking baby steps away from some of my stubborn bad habits and insatiable ego. After 7 years away from home (4 years of college, summers spent working camps around the Southeast, a half a year at the World’s Fair, another half at the Omni Hotel, and 2 years in the Student Affairs office at Georgia Tech), I boomeranged back to my parents home (lucky them) in Knoxville to get a Masters Degree in Communications at UT. Because my undergrad was in Sociology, the Communications Department Head said I would need some leveling classes in the communications department. That’s when I saw her. She had big 80’s strawberry blonde hair, beautiful big blue eyes that took your breath away and captured your heart, a cute little nose, and she gained some adorable freckles when she was kissed by the sun... AND she was usually with her best friend ... and when I say usually, I mean ALWAYS. These two coeds were attractive and effervescent “TV news aficionados,” who took every college class together. They were inseparable and talked incessantly. The University’s News Radio staff did their best to send the two of us out to get stories together, but there never seemed to be a good time to talk to her outside of feeding the news machine for ALL NEWS 850. The station was always hungry for stories twice an hour, all day, everyday. Finally, I saw my opportunity. I was sitting near the front of the class on the same row as my blonde news fox and her friend, not to be mistaken with Fox News and Friends, which would not be invented for several years. The lecture finished and I waited in my seat for these two ladies to stroll down the aisle. At a strategic moment, I stood up and slid between them. Anita, unaware that I was behind her, kept walking and talking. Without turning around she asked Amy if she were going to the movie that night (they were taking an elective class that included watching and evaluating classic movies). I said, “I thought you’d never ask!” to which Anita turned around, frowned, and said, “I’m not talking to you,” and continued her conversa- tion with Amy. But then, we were assigned by the Station Manager to go report on a story together, on the topic of “Communication in Marriage,” so I offered to drive us to the conference. Afterward, it happened to be about dinner time and we were near one of my favorite restaurants (Grady's of Regas Family fame), so I said, “are you hungry, I love this restaurant and I’m buying?” To which she said, “yes.” I was impressed with not only how much we had in common as we discussed our typical southern upbringing (both the good parts and dysfunction), shared family values, and faith roots, but also that she didn’t hesitate in asking me if I were going to eat the rest of my shoestring fries after she had already finished hers. I said I was happy to share mine, and she ate them all! (to her credit, the shoestring fries from this place were warm, golden, crispy, strips of potato deliciousness... the best in the world). That was it! I was in love! She was, as the school fight song “Rocky Top” says, “wild as a mink but sweet as soda pop.” However, I guess the stars in my eyes had prevented me from seeing the fraternity lavalier she was wearing. All I could do was wait and hope that this long distance relationship would eventually end as it did with many a “hometown honey” at a faraway school. Needless to say, that relationship ended and we began dating.

Our relationship was as intense as it was fast. We jumped in with both feet. I met her folks and she met mine. It wasn’t long until we were engaged. Perhaps it was too quick, because we ended up breaking our engagement. The breakup was painful, effusive and intense. We both landed in counseling separately, but with the same Christian counselor. This was maybe one of the best things that could have happened to us individually and as a couple to work through some of our “stuff.” I decided to finally quit running from God, accept my calling into ministry, and determined that I would go to seminary when I finished my masters degree. We didn’t talk with each other for weeks. With so much pain, I was sure the relationship was over. The counselor must have seen how deeply we still cared for each other in spite of the ways we had hurt each other, so he carefully suggested we meet with him together with some ground rules in place. I wasn’t sure, but with some trepidation, I agreed. As my son’s father-in-law would years later tell him, “A faint-hearted man never won a fair lady.” Our counselor helped us set up some healthy boundaries, so that the relationship would be given a fighting chance to make it this time. God worked in our hearts and the wedding was back on. We married, I finished my degree and we headed to Seminary in Texas. Thirty-two years, 4 kids, 1 grandkid, 7 cities, and 7 churches later, God has taught us that we are better together, the 3 of us, with Him at the center. The years still include some intense joy and effusive disagreements, and we are also still learning how to love each other well.

As one funny but truthful older and wiser friend said of her fifty year marriage, “we had 45 good years.” She says, “it wasn’t 5 bad years in a row, it was a day here, a week there, ten days back there, over the lifetime of the marriage.” “But overall,”she says, “it's a good relationship and I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

As the Divinely inspired writer of Proverbs says, “He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains

favor from the LORD.” (Proverbs 18:22 ESV)

Canoe Race with a bad taste.*

 Canoe Race with a bad taste. The tweenage years were those of adventure for me. Oh there was plenty of angst and pre-teen trauma, but one of my favorite quests was competing in the Powell River Canoe race with my Boy Scout Troop. We practiced for a few months in lakes, ponds, even the scout master’s pool tied to the diving board. We learned how to paddle a canoe and not turn upside down. And we even learned what to do if we turned upside down. I don’t know who thought it would be a good idea to let a bunch of middle school boys race a few miles down the river after only practicing in calm water a few times, but I’m glad they did. With the exception of a few bumps, scrapes, and sore muscles it was a pretty smooth operation. Scout troops from all over the area had an assigned camping spot and each canoe had a slated start time. They put us in order fastest to slowest and started each canoe a couple of minutes apart. We were in the youngest/slowest group near the end. My canoe mate said he wanted to be the spotter in the front and I was in the back to steer. We navigated the river remembering to avoid the V’s pointing upstream in the current, made by water going around a rock.  And we pointed our canoes toward V’s in the current pointing down stream made by two rocks on either side. There were only a couple of places where the river moves somewhat fast and most of the canoers avoided ending up on the rocks or in the water. In my 12 year old mind, it may have looked like the falls from the movie, “A River Runs Through It,” not to be confused with another Brad Pitt classic, “Legends of the Fall,” that, contrary to the name, had no falls at all.  The Powell River was nowhere near that kind of rapids and yet it was an adventure I still remember with fond memories. I don’t think our troop won anything, but made the top 10 (out of 10). Oh and there was that unfortunate incident after the race where my scout troop raided the canoe filled with soft drinks and ice and absconded back to our campsite with all the cokes meant for the participants in the race. Though we were the troop that met at a fancy church in a relatively fancy part of town we were all easily swayed by one of our suburban hoodlums from an upscale neighborhood. We quickly became known as “that troop” (and may not have been invited back to the next year’s race).  I don’t know why we all shamelessly followed suit when this young man started grabbing more drinks than he could possibly drink and tossing them in his backpack and tent. He began downing them one after another. Then in his out of control sugar rush, he was shaking and wasting the diet drinks spraying them in the faces of the other scouts, even the adults who came to politely ask for us to put them back so that all could share them. The Bible says, “‘Stolen water is sweet; food eaten in secret is delicious!’, unfortunately it is a quote from the woman Solomon called “Folly,” who says these words to lure in “fools.”  I don’t know what lured us into this kind of folly that would leave a bad taste in people’s mouths during such a life giving and memorable outdoor adventure. Many leaders had invested so much of their time, energy and effort to give us a wonderful experience and life-long memories.   Maybe we were jealous of those who had practiced hard and won the races and in our prepubescent, yet-to-be-fully formed minds, this was our “rational” answer to make us not feel so embarrassed by our loss. Our total lack of gratitude, couth,  and grace actually embarrassed us more. 

Back in Jesus day, a marvelous life giving thing had happened. Jesus healed a man who was born blind. It was glorious, but quickly some men, jealous of Jesus, tried to take away the victory when they spoke against Him for healing on the Sabbath. They even said bad things about the man who was healed because he embarrassed them by continuing to give glory to Jesus for healing him.  Jesus reminds us that we can be life givers or we can be takers.  He says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”(John 10:10 NIV) When we bring life to others, we are acting like we belong to Jesus, but when we are taking from others, we are acting like the Evil One.  We needta remember, if we belong to Him, we act like Him and bring life to people even when we are embarrassed or feeling “less than.” 

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

Are You a Spiritual Somnambulist?*

 Are you a spiritual somnambulist? When I was a boy, I would sometimes wake up in a different place than where I fell asleep. I usually ended up on a couch in the basement. My parents were still awake one night when I began to sleepwalk, so they decided not to wake me, but see what I would do. I walked right out the front door, climbed into the back seat of the car, locked all the doors (as was my habit before there were automatic locks) and rode to whatever dream destination I was going to. After a few minutes I unlocked my door, walked back into the house and went back to bed. My parents said I would often come ask them for a drink of water, while walking back and forth at the foot of their bed. I would not hold the glass, but would apparently drink it if they held it for me. I never recall waking up while sleepwalking, but often wondered how I woke up on the couch after being “tucked in” my own bed. Thank goodness I outgrew my somnambulism by high school. One lady from Massachusetts told Reader’s Digest she’s had many sleepwalking incidents as an adult. Apparently “she’s left the house and visited neighbors, kicked holes through doors, punched out windows, initiated arguments with her husband, and reported fictitious emergencies to the police—all while having utterly no idea of what she was doing or why, and no recollection upon waking.”

Apparently, the church at Ephesus had somehow become like somniloquists. They were walking around acting as if they were asleep with no recollection they had connected their lives with Christ. They were living like they were not His people. Paul reminds them, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said: ‘Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.’ Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is.” (Ephesians 5:8–17 NIV) Those in the early church in Ephesus, like us, used to belong to the world and the evil one, we were “darkness,” but now we belong to Jesus, we are “children of the light.” When Paul wrote this letter to the early church he knew that we would sometimes need to be reminded of how to act like our Jesus’ selves, living good, right, and truthful, God honoring lives… loving God and others well.

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

We Mayor or May Not Have Tried to Borrow a McDonaldland Playground Character.*

 We Mayor or may not have tried to borrow a McDonaldland playground character. In college, in my rebellion years, a group of friends and I decided we would give Mayor McCheese a new temporary home until his newly redesigned playground was completed at the Mickey Dee’s near campus. He was obviously bored in the parking lot while he waited for his playground to be rebuilt. So, a plan was hatched to relieve his ennui while his place at McCityhall was revamped. A friend, who happened to be a PK (Preacher’s Kid), was driving his dad’s car that night. We grabbed an old quilt and threw it on top of the shiny two door caprice classic that had a like new wax job, so it was slick as glass. The four of us carefully lifted the most McHonorable sir to the roof. He obviously liked the idea, he was smiling… kind of. When I asked about tie down straps, we had obviously not thought this thing through. One said, “you guys just hang out the window on each side and hold it, just like those people do with mattresses.” So, silly us, we did. We had made it out of the parking lot and turned onto the road with a giant downhill beside campus. About one third of the way down the hill, police lights and sirens came on. My PK friend, the driver, panicked for a moment and accelerated. With the increasing speed, the newly emancipated Mayor began to slide on the “hard shell finish” of the recently Turtle Waxed roof and was about to be ousted from his motorcade. I and my passenger side human-tie-down-strap began to be pulled out our windows by the less than aerodynamic, bulged eyed, top hatted, metallic beef, bun and cheese head. The metal bolts that would normally hold his Honor in place on the ground had found their way off the quilt and onto the paint job of the pastor’s car, leaving squiggled gashes of exposed metal on the top as we attempted to keep the McCityofficial from flying off onto the campus police cruiser quickly approaching behind us. Our driver finally came to his senses, deciding that we couldn’t outrun the police, especially with our statue on top and so he found a safe place beside the road to pull over. We climbed out of our windows expecting the worst. We were all “getting our story straight” in our minds… that we were only “borrowing” it to put behind our campus apartment for a few days. I was already rehearsing what I would say to my parents, who would have to drive 3 hours to come get me out of jail. The campus police officer climbed out of his cruiser and couldn’t talk because he was laughing so hard… saying something about the look on Mr. McCheese’s face as we sped down that hill. He walked up and laugh-slapped one of my friends on the shoulder so hard he almost fell into the ditch with the words, “you boys!” We didn’t know if this was a good sign or not. He had called the other campus police to come see what “these knuckleheads” had done. Fortunately, the PK knew this particular officer and shared that we were just bored and planned to bring this impeached McPublic official back in a day or two. The officer who continued to chuckle as he talked, said, “you boys take him right back up there now, and everybody can go back to campus…and y’all find something else to do with your time tonight.” He went back to his car chuckling and shaking his head. So, we took our McDonaldland friend back to his boring spot in the parking lot. My friend had “some ‘splainin’' to do to his dad about those four divots in his roof, but we were all relieved to sleep in our own beds rather than being in the lockup for kidnapping the Mayor. We noticed our next time through the drive thru that Mayor McCheese, Ronald, the Hamburgler, and Officer Big Mac were all incarcerated, securely chained and padlocked with a temporary fence around them until the playground was completed. But Mayor McCheese never felt so liberated as that night he took a ride on the wildside. Thankfully this was back before security cameras and cell phone cameras, so there is no record of these misguided shenanigans, and I would probably deny they ever happened.

Everyone in that car that night we took Mayor McCheese, had grown up in the church and claimed to be a Christian. There were lots of these times during my rebellion that I needed to be reminded that we don’t do those kinds of things.That "boredom" is not a free pass to act like a jerk. We were God’s kids, not kids of the Evil One, but we weren’t acting like it. The truth is I wasn’t listening, even if someone tried to remind me… sad, I know. God’s grace awaited me if I would just turn back to Him and quit acting like I didn’t belong to Him. Fortunately, I eventually repented. The apostle Paul had to keep reminding the early church Whose they were, the things they no longer did, but also who they now are. He says, “Don’t you realize that those who do wrong will not inherit the Kingdom of God? Don’t fool yourselves. Those who indulge in sexual sin, or who worship idols, or commit adultery, or are male prostitutes, or practice homosexuality, or are thieves, or greedy people, or drunkards, or are abusive, or cheat people—none of these will inherit the Kingdom of God. Some of you were once like that. But you were cleansed; you were made holy; you were made right with God by calling on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.”(1 Corinthians 6:9–11) I still need to be reminded that I have been “made right” with God and that I am now in Christ and the way I honor His boundaries and treat His people are expected to be in keeping with Who belong to now. Let's keep acting like His people.

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

Go Ahead And Jump! *

 On a recent trip back to my hometown of Knoxville, my mind returned to the day a highschool friend said,'' let's go cliff jumping.” We hopped in my ‘67 convertible Mustang and he gave directions as we wound around country roads to the jumping place. As I walked toward the edge and looked over, I was filled with simultaneous fear and exhilaration. The fear came from both the height and a traumatic experience in a diving class as a child, in which I did a painful back flop. Finally, it was time to take the leap. I had watched the old movies of people who were escaping their enemies jumping with reckless abandon from a cliff into a river in order to survive. But there were no enemies here, just the opportunity to experience an instant of Earth’s gravity’s tremendous 9.8 meters per second squared accelerational pull on my body until hitting water. Hitting water at that speed feels like concrete on impact if you hit flat footed, which, by the way, I did on the first jump. However, something in me wanted to do it again. So I did, but made sure I pointed my toes on entry! Twice more from 40 feet up! The adrenaline rush was addicting. Then we rode home, wet hair drying quickly in the summer heat, in my top down mustang, still tingling all over from the experience. I would like to say that was the last time I jumped from a high place into water, but it wasn’t. In spite of my father’s warnings I did not turn down other opportunities to feel the whoosh of air from the exhilarating speed and the sudden splash into the water. As a physician who had seen the unfortunate accidents that can occur, my father continued to warn me. As a boy, when I would do something silly because “everyone else was doing it,” my mother used to ask, “if everyone jumps off a bridge, are you going to do it too?” I guess the answer was “yes,” because in college, my cheerleader friends asked me to go jump off the Keowee Toxaway Bridge in South Carolina. So, I did. It was just as exhilarating.

I took a similar leap when I finally, after almost a decade of running from God, answered His call to ministry. I had many fears: fear of a boring life (it has been anything but boring), fear of disappointing God with my failure (I have failed many times and He has never abandoned me, though thankfully, He often corrects me), fear of perhaps not being able to provide for my family (He has always provided), fear of rejection by people (some have, but God has never rejected me) and the list of fears go on. However, the exhilaration of belonging to God and joining Him in what He is doing in the lives of His people is a blessed addiction. Jesus says in the sermon on the mount: “Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man! Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for so their fathers did to the prophets.”(Luke 6:22–23 ESV) If you see God at work, jump in and join Him. Take that joyful leap. The thrill of belonging to and being of service to the God who spoke everything into existence is overwhelming. Being a part of His work in people’s lives is a great privilege. So, go ahead and jump!

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

Words Flying Like Projectiles *

I spent part of my early teen years in Boy Scouts, camping, canoeing, scout meetings, tying knots, trying to learn the Scout law and oath… all the fun stuff. I wasn’t very good at getting merit badges. Our troop, on the whole, at that time, was not one that produced a lot of Eagle Scouts, but we sure had fun… It was as if we said, “we don’t need no stinkin’ badges,”  we just want to do what’s fun. (Kudos to all those who are diligent and dedicated enough to earn the honor of Eagle Scout) One particular campout, we of course hadn’t slept, we just played in the fire all night. The next day on the drive home, the troop stopped at a park to have lunch. There happened to be a large creek running through the park. So, after lunch we were all playing in the creek… it wasn’t long before someone threw a rock in and splashed water on another scout. AND then it was on! Rocks were flying into the water splashing the scouts on each side… teams were arbitrarily selected by whatever side of the creek you were on. This thing escalated quickly from harmless fun to an all out splash war. Sleep deprived teenaged boys first excitedly, then angrily retaliating, throwing harder and harder, grabbing bigger and bigger rocks. It was an all out frenetic fracus! Arm launched river rock projectiles were flying wildly everywhere! Adult leaders were trying to get a hold of the out of control donnybrook after they had initially passed it off as harmless fun. My friend bent down to grab another rock in front of me. I was focused on the scout target on the other side of the creek and the exact spot to throw the stone to splash him, so I didn’t notice where my friend was. Just as I released the rock, he stood up from grabbing his rock and WHAM, it hit him in the back of the head.  It really hurt him. I felt really bad. (I was also a little scared, I had heard the whole David and Goliath thing, I hoped I hadn’t killed him.) All the way home, he was hurting. Even worse, though he was exhausted, he couldn’t go to sleep, because the adult leaders didn’t want him to go to sleep with a concussion. He was angry too, he thought I had intentionally hit him with the rock. I felt bad enough that it was my rock in “the mountain creek melee” that had hit him, but I felt even worse that he thought I had hit him on purpose. His head and our friendship was injured. 

I have noticed in my own relationships that when fun, teasing words escalate into a full-fledged squabble, words can really do damage to healthy connection. I learned from a counselor friend that nothing good comes when word wars escalate verbally.  All helpful communication ends when we go into fight, flight or freeze mode.  Our brain chemicals shut down the thinking part of the brain and we become focused solely on winning. It becomes about instinctual survival of the fittest, which, by the way, leads to nothing good in relationships. Only hurt feelings, misunderstandings and destruction of connection happens. 

A seminary professor once told our class that words in early Hebrew society were like projectiles. Blessings that were said to you were received like blessed oil poured on your head running down to cover you. But curses, if they landed on you stuck like glue and did you harm.  He said people would physically try to dodge the curse words hurled at them from a rival, because the words had power to hurt you.  I still remember him quickly dropping to the floor to make the point, as if the curse was like a dodgeball covered in flypaper and he was dodging that curse by getting out of its path and letting the words fly above him, missing their target.  

In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus wants his followers to know that conflict escalation is antithetical to His Way. He tells us to respond with blessings to those who throw curses at us.  He says, ““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. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ lend to ‘sinners,’ expecting to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” (Luke 6:27–36 NIV) Wow! … “children of the Most High.” We’re most like Jesus when we return blessing for cursing, rather than what comes natural to us - picking up the next bigger verbal rock and throwing it harder.  How many relationships could I have protected, even nurtured,  if I had not escalated a conflict with increasingly hurtful words? 

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

Pixie Sticks and Schadenfreude!*

 Hot Summer days spent by the pool with 50 other kids in embarrassingly small swimsuits… miles of Pixie Stix consumed six inches at a time from a paper straw, unless you had the supreme sugar rush inducing 21 inch Giant Pixie Stick from a plastic tube, or the cheapskate version of sweetened Koolade powder eaten right from the sleeve… giant dill pickles from a giant pickle jar… sunburn, sunscreen, and near sun stroke… semi-soaked, then sun dried towels that smelled of chlorine, sweat, pickle juice, and Pixie Stix… hair bleached by the Sun with a tint of green from the pool chemicals… the excitement of cheering on a team member in a close race, the thrill of victory and agony of defeat… of course, I’m describing Summer Swim Team. For many Summers of elementary school and pre-teen years my sister and I swam with neighborhood friends for the University of Tennessee Faculty Club, The Senator's Club, and for the Fountain City Lions Club swim teams. Every morning we headed to the pool to practice, grow stronger, and learn more about fast starts, flip turns and best ways to breath between strokes…if we were listening. Our parents worked the ribbon tables, stopwatches, and served as water-cat herders to get kids to the blocks for their events. They tirelessly spent hours and hours at the pool for practice and meets to watch us swim events that were typically less than 1 minute long. Many of us were mediocre athletes, but it kept us active, gave us a group to belong to, and friends to cheer on. I still have glad memories of time spent with friends around the pool. Swim is one of those team sports that is mostly competed individually, but scored as a team. We had to figure out how to compete against a clock, to get a faster time than our last swim, rather than considering others that we raced against as our “enemy.” Schadenfreude can come easy when we are competing… we may be glad when someone else has a bad race, so that we do better. We may even begin to hope for someone else to have a bad race so we can defeat them, and blue ribbons can become more important than good friendships.

The church can sometimes become a place where Schadenfreude can come easy too. We may think of our faith walk as a competition as opposed to a team sport. We can begin to think that because we may have more Bible knowledge, think we are morally better, or think we are outserving others, that we are superior to other people, and we can get a little feeling of satisfaction when others don’t know as much, or they mess up, or they don’t do as much as we do “for Jesus.” Apparently the early church was struggling with some of these things too and Paul, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, had to remind them that belonging to Christ and each other is more important than being the best. He says, “ For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” (Romans 12:3–5) I am challenged to remember that Christ came for our victory in relationships. First, he came so we can have relationship with God the Father for all eternity. He also came to connect us in healthy ways with all those people He loves (everyone). Jesus didn’t come to make us a better version of ourselves or even better than others, He came to make us a new creation that acts like Him, connects with Him and loves people well. If we have been gifted in certain things, we hafta remember that our gifting is a tool to build up other people, not put them down, or humiliate them when they fail. Our world places value on the being the best, the fastest, and the strongest, because the world’s economy is based on the predatory model of “survival of the fittest,” exploiting the weaknesses of others for our own benefit. God’s self-sacrificial plan is a plan to rescue people, change their lives, protect them in their weakness, build them up, and love them forever and teach us to do the same.

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

Does It Have Any Value?*

 When my kids were young, we tried to have a family adventure each week, like trips to a local attraction, the YMCA pool, fishing in the pond, or a family bike ride. We had our plates full: Anita had 4 preschoolers all day and I had the shepherding responsibilities of a mostly aging flock: 3 sermons a week, hospital visits several times a week, and a funeral or two every month. We had finally bought, collected and repaired enough bikes, and bike-baby seats for all 6 of us to ride on the Shelby Bottoms trails in East Nashville, including one bike that we had to recover from the creek after being stolen off the back porch of the parsonage. (East Nashville has since returned to its former glory, but at the time in the early 2000’s, it was still kind of the “hood,” with gang activity, a 90% high school dropout rate, and nefarious characters sometimes roaming the streets at night. When I first arrived as pastor, I wondered why there were bars on the parsonage windows, then a young man in the church told me my family needed to be aware of our surroundings, he had been shot in the church parking lot a few years before). After an hour of pumping tires and tightening chains, sliding handles back on handlebars, I was ready to load all the bikes on the bike hitch and put the bike trailer that would carry our picnic basket and cooler into the Minivan. Anita piled the helmets and kids inside, buckled car seats and we were ready to go. Once at the parking lot, which was less than a mile from the parsonage (there were no sidewalks to ride from the house), we were quite the spectacle apparently. People stared as the kids seemed to keep piling out of the van like a VW Bug stuffed with clowns at the circus. We sunscreened, sunglassed, and helmeted all the kids, put two on bikes and two in bike-baby seats, attached the trailer to my bike with our picnic basket inside and we were ready to roll. Our son, the oldest child, was eager to go fast and explore, so we had to signal for him to come back closer to us with a loud curled-lip-whistle when he was about to get out of sight, which, to this day he recalls, was frustrating to his budding adventurous spirit. He did seem to understand we needed to stick together as a family and not everyone could pedal as fast as him. We finally made it to our picnic spot with a picnic table, swingsets and monkey bars. The kids ate their pb and j’s and deli sandwiches, whale-crackers (which were the cheaper, Aldi knock-off version of GoldFish), sliced apples, cheese sticks, sectioned oranges and juice boxes. Then they played for a while. The youngest seemed to be enthralled with the idea that there was a cinder block bathroom painted white, right in the middle of the park with one side for boys and the other for girls. We knew that we had to save some energy for the ride back, so after several minutes it was time to head back. With only a couple of minor injuries, tears, and tantrums (a few of them being my own) we made it back to the van. We were covered in a thin layer of the mud cake that forms with the mixture of sunscreen, sweat, and Nashville pollution, which consisted of traffic grime, wind blown Steiner Lift scrap-metal yard, rust-dust, glitter particles, and then add some playground dirt. This mixture is then dried onto our skin in the bike breeze like a janky mud beauty treatment. We reloaded everything for the short van ride back, and in spite of the short ride, our youngest was asleep (my daughter-in-law now calls this “carcolepsy,” like narcolepsy, but involves falling asleep anytime you ride in a car). We get them home, splash and wipe them down with a washcloth, which, by the wipedown of the fourth child looks like it was washed in a mud puddle. Even after the cloth is rinsed and wrung out, the last kid’s dirt just gets smeared around a little and it makes them look like they just got a bad spray tan on their lily white Euro descended skin. Exhausted, we put them down for a nap and offload the bikes and gear, clean out the van, cooler and picnic basket. Then we take a short nap, wake up and order pizza for dinner. Sometimes I wondered did this have any value? Was it worth all the effort to get us all together for a family activity? Was it worth the sweat, mud-cake baths, and tears to try to make some family memories that would help define our family, and remind us that we belong to each other, look out for each other, and that it’s important for us to have fun together. I have since learned that healthy growth and maturity emotionally and spiritually requires having the joys of belonging and having fun together, not just the “thou shalt nots.”

The early church was struggling to know whether it made a difference to keep acting like Jesus and keep doing good. The society around them didn’t always seem to care that they treated people differently than most, nor did they seem to care that because they identified as those who belong to Jesus, that they were kinder, did good deeds and loved people like no one else. The apostle Paul reminded them that it does matter that we keep on doing good, that even if we don’t see any noticeable results right now, it will have an impact in the long run. He says, “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9 ESVi) As people who belong to Jesus, it is what we do, it is how we act, it is in our character to keep doing good for our family, for our community, even for those with whom we don’t always agree. I am glad that now our adult children want to “be there” for each other, do good for others, and have fun together whenever they can. I screwed parenting up more than I got it right. I was especially bad at it when I was exhausted… which was most of the time, but God always sent His people from church at just the right moment to help my kids keep growing. They also encouraged me: to keep acting like Jesus, keep on loving, keep on having family adventures, keep on parenting, keep on doing good, that it will all make a difference in the long run. Just don’t give up!

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

Grafted In: a Lesson Learned from a Weeping Cherry Tree*

 Every Easter at the home of my adolescence, my Mother would host the family Easter gathering after church. There was usually ham, sweet potatoes, a congealed salad, green beans, red velvet cake, and sweet tea. There was lots of laughter and fun. The Easter Egg hunt was what my cousins and I looked forward to, even into our tweenage years. (We also enjoyed dying the eggs the day before.) We couldn’t wait to take off our Easter “Sunday Best” clothes and put on some more comfortable “egg huntin’ clothes” and compete with our cousins in the annual decorative colored oval orb quest in the front yard. BUT before the meal and the egg hunt was the family picture in our Easter clothes… ugh. This happened in the front yard, usually in front of the Weeping Cherry tree if its blooming corresponded with Easter that year. Though I probably didn’t acknowledge it at the time, this tree was beautiful. Its weeping branches filled with copious pink cherry blossoms looked like a mushroom fountain of flowers spraying up and over and running to the ground. It wasn’t until a storm broke a branch from the tree and it became just a tree no longer weeping, nor producing as many pink flowers…actually kinda ugly… that I learned what had to happen to produce this kind of beauty in the first place. My Dad explained that at some point, the trunk had to be cut and branches had to be grafted-in and the wounds of the tree and the grafted branch had to heal and grow together to make a new tree that was both weeping and produced a beautiful fountain of flowers. 

 

As I think back on that tree, I’m reminded that our broken humanity is just sad, disappointing, and ugly until we are grafted into the Divine through the scars and death and resurrection of Christ. We are redeemed to be a new creation that is compassionate, connected, and beautiful. Easter communicates to us what God had to do to graft us into His beautiful family, adopt us as His, so we could become beautiful like Him, and belong to Him. God had to cut, bruise, and wound His own Son Jesus, in order that we could be forever firmly attached and grow with Him. He says, “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...” (Isaiah 49:16a NIV) God’s disappointment with our ugly, rebellious, meanness doesn’t overcome His loving desire for us to be His children forever. “For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5 NIV) When our stiff-necked pride is broken and we confess our failure and sin and ask God to forgive us and connect us with Him, He takes our broken and helpless self and attaches us into Jesus’ humble but perfect self and our wounds heal and grow us together. He was cut and broken for our sake. On that first Resurrection morning the new growth from the grafting begins… Paul uses the symbolic language of grafted trees to tell us what happens when we let God attach us to Himself through Jesus. We are connected to God as His people forever. He says, “…and you, though a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing sap from the olive root… ”(Romans 11:17 NIV) We become a new creation, capable of both weeping and beauty, compassion, love, connection, and great joy that spills out to be shared with all those around us. We then continue becoming the full God-redeemed creature that He had in mind to make us from the beginning. 

 

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

Maundy Thursday, What Is It?*

 Maundy Thursday, what is it? When I was a young Baptist kid, I only knew of two days of the Holy Week, Palm Sunday and Easter. One involved Palm Branches and a Hosanna song, clapping our hands and stomping our feet, and the other day was shared by the Easter Bunny and Jesus (kinda like Christmas being shared by Santa Claus and Baby Jesus). I imagine I loved making the Easter scene with popsicle-stick-Jesus, Mary of Magdala at His feet, and an Angel, including an empty toilet paper roll and a construction paper stone to roll away. I also loved dying, hiding, finding eggs, chocolate bunnies and Cadbury eggs (bok, bok). This Christian/Pagan yearly ritual could be confusing.

But then I learned about Good Friday and Maundy Thursday. There was always a mention of the cross and Good Friday, but I never knew why it was called GOOD Friday, especially if Jesus was beaten and killed that day (I later learned that it was called “God’s Friday,” the day He redeemed the sins of the world for all who would belong to Him. Some speculate that it is similar to the farewell words, GOOD bye, that were a shortening of the traveler’s blessing, “God be with ye.”) And I just thought Maundy Thursday was the expression of some confused Southerner trying to say Monday, but it was Thursday. Then I learned the most marvelous thing… That "Maundy" comes from the Latin rendering of the word “Command.”

Many wonderful things happened on Maundy Thursday, Jesus showed us what humble leadership looks like by washing the feet of His disciples. He summed up the most important parts of His ministry with the Last Supper and His last words to those who belong to Him. He reminded us of how to keep the most important commandments to Love God and Love Others. We have to remain IN Him. He tells us we Love God by honoring the boundaries and expectations that He lovingly gives us. Jesus says, ““If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”(John 14:15 ESV) He also tells us what it means to be known as His, this is where we get the “Maundy” from. Jesus says, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.””(John 13:34–35 ESV). Notice He doesn’t say, you will be known as my disciples if you: have superior Bible Knowledge, have better behavior, never mess up, pray more, have more quiet time, go to more religious rituals, are more righteous than others… You won’t be known as His disciples by the number of converts you make, or if you can prove why you are right. He tells us that the proof of being known as one who belongs to Him is balanced on the fulcrum of loving one another, and He adds, “as I have loved you.” He really upped the ante with this statement, because He loves even His enemies. So New Command Thursday is a really big deal. Jesus was reminding us that day, how it is like “those who are His,” to act.

So, Happy Maundy Thursday People. Let’s love one another!

When Things Don't Go Our Way...

 When things don’t go our way… In elementary school, I participated in Royal Ambassador basketball. “Royal Ambassadors,” or “RAs,” was a Baptist missions organization for boys. Every week we had a Bible Study and learned about people who were telling the Good News around the world. Every winter we had RA basketball where we competed with other RAs from other churches around the city. We had some great coaches who were quite good at basketball and they invested their time in teaching us the game. We practiced on Sundays after church, which was kinda weird for the time (early 70’s) in Knoxville, TN, because there were still “blue laws” and Sundays were set aside for church, rest and Sunday drives to the country-side. However, no one could practice any other time during the week, so we brought our tennis shoes, knee socks, shorts, and t-shirts to change into from our “Sunday Best” and had practice after church. McDonald’s was open on Sundays. So, after leaving church, we would run to McDonald’s, get a Big Mac and a Coke, devour it quickly, change clothes, go to the gym and hopefully not hurl it back up when running laps. Before our church had its own gym, we went to the local school to practice. We learned to dribble, pass, shoot and learned the rules of basketball. One year, our coaches were so good we defeated all the local teams and were invited to the state RA basketball tournament in Nashville. We were all giddy. We got there and as I recall, won our first game on Friday night. Then we were all wired up about being in a hotel for a sleepover, juiced up on Coke and Cheetos, we somehow coerced our coaches into letting us watch “Crack Through the World'' movie on television. It was a disturbing late 1960’s apocalyptic movie about how the earth was destroyed by an ill-fated plan to harness the Earth’s geothermal energy by shooting a nuclear bomb deep into the earth. This of course, as you would guess, began the earth ending crack through the world. The movie showed many people dying in horrific ways (landslides, train wrecks, molten hot lava - to which one of the boys quipt “fried to a crackly crunch. Cheetos, cheese that goes crunch!” We all laughed, but kind of guiltily.

Of course, I didn’t sleep at all because I was so disturbed by the images seared into my brain, not to mention the copious amounts of fizzy caffeine and sugar that I consumed. Needless to say we were all tired the next morning. We played our next couple of games and won, which should have made us RA State Champions, but the host church decided that their team needed one more chance to defend their title against us with their best player who had not been able to play the earlier game. So they required a short play off game. I knew that this was not right and in my sleep deprived, elementary school immaturity, I threw a tantrum and began to cry, stating that I would not play another game...not that my playing had any impact on the team, I wasn’t that good, but I wasn’t bad at dribbling, passing or defense. I gave myself a free pass to act badly, because I perceived someone had disrespected us. The coaches tried to remind me that we had come to play basketball and agreed to the rules of the tournament. They also reminded us that we needed to represent God and our church well. So, in my “self-righteousness,” I still sulked and sat on the bench, while the rest of my team battled the title holders. The host church’s plan worked, they won the short winner-take-all game and we went home with a 2nd place trophy and my little tantrum, justified or not, did nothing but make me look like a crybaby and abandon my team.

We were supposedly “Royal Ambassadors,” we represent The King of Kings. Our motto was, “we are ambassadors for Christ,” taken from 2 Corinthians 5:20. Paul was reminding the young and immature church at Corinth, that they belonged to Jesus, and they represent Him now, so their behaviors had to change. Their own selfish, childish ways in which they used to live were not okay anymore. Paul tells them, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”(2 Corinthians 5:17–21 NIV) Things don’t always go our way, but that is not a free pass for us to act badly. When we belong to Jesus, we act like Him even in difficult situations, when sleep deprived, wronged by someone else, angry, tired or _____. Our identity changes when we are "in Christ," and we mature into acting like Him more and more regardless of our circumstances.

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