A Preacher or a Pastor?

The rain was coming down in buckets as I struggled to keep my car between the ditches on the washed out gravel road. I was doing what every country church preacher boy should do on a Sunday afternoon. I was "visiting," house after house, spending a little while drinking coffee and getting acquainted with the handful of folks that were part of my first flock.

Lindley Adams lived way out on the edge of civilization. It was not the end of the world, but you could see the end of their world from his place. Even the gravel stopped a mile or so before Lindley's place, but some how my old Dodge plowed through the mud and I wiped my feet on the old rug on the porch.

"How'd you get here?" Lindley asked as he opened the door. "I didn't figure anybody could make it in with all this rain."

"Well, here I am." And so began a good friendship with Lindley. We had great conversations from time to time and one day he even took me out back and let me shoot some of his antique revolvers and black powder muskets. I think my ears are still ringing.

But what I will always remember about Lindley is the question that he put to me on that first rain soaked afternoon. After just a few moments of introduction and small talk, he got right to the point. "Well, let me ask you," he said, "Are you a preacher or are you a pastor?" I wasn't sure how to answer, so I mumbled something about trying to be a little bit of both.

Lindley was not satisfied. "Don't you know the difference?"

I shrugged and said, "I guess I don't."

"Well, let me tell you. A preacher prays for his people, but a pastor prays with his people. There's been lots of preachers around here, not too many pastors. Now, which one are you?"

Some thirty years have come and gone since that question was put to me so plainly, and I have tried to put the old man's wisdom into practice as a pastor, hopefully the kind that would make Lindley smile. Some day in Heaven he's probably going to ask me if I ever learned the difference, and I'll know what to say next time.

Thank you, Lord, for getting me through the rain and the mud on that gloomy afternoon so that one of your old saints could point this preacher boy in the right direction. God bless him.

Anybody Here Seen My Old Friend, Martin?

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.
 
Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men.

The hottest place in Hell is reserved for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict.

I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

Blessed Are the Uncool

A friend shared the link to this blog post by Rachel Held Evans. Really refreshing perspective and a needed reminder of what being the church is all about. See what you think.

Blessed Are the Uncool

A Christmas Toast . . .

The Spirits had shown Ebenezer that it was wrong to cheat and steal. But I say the Spirits were mistaken!

We must cheat!

We must steal!

We must drink!

We must cheat death!

We must steal time to be with our loved ones!

And we must drink in the happiness and warmth of this holiday season!

In a One Horse Open Sleigh

It was a cold, wintry Wednesday afternoon in December, 1980. After class at William Jewell in Liberty, I headed my old Dodge north to Nettleton, Missouri, to the little country church where a handful of kindly folks first called me "Pastor". This was to be a very special evening, taking a break from the normal routine of a little Bible study and a long prayer list. This was a night for Christmas caroling, hot chocolate, and family fellowship.

As I pulled off the interstate and headed east on Highway 36, the gray skies seem to open and big flakes began to fall. By the time I pulled off the old highway on the gravel road, a fresh blanket of white had brightened the bleak December landscape. I wondered if my people would still want to get out in this sudden winter storm, but I soon learned that these were not soft city dwellers, quick to cancel any plans at the first sign of snow. The good people of Nettleton Baptist Church were hale and hearty country folks who faced nature's surprises without hesitation or fear. Snow and slick roads never put them off.

As we gathered and huddled in the warmth of the church, I learned that a new plan was already in place. Our neighbors just across the road from the church raised a few horses and were also the proud owners of a large antique sleigh. Sure enough, in just a little while we were skimming along the snowy roads, stopping to sing all the songs of the season on frigid front porches and around warm wood stoves. I remember the almost mystical quiet of the countryside, just the sound of the horse's hooves plodding through the snow. What a beautiful, magical evening it was. I stayed over that night with Bill and Linda, sleeping on the couch near the fireplace. The folks were not willing to send me off in the snowstorm alone.

As I reflect on that wonderful Wednesday evening, it occurs to me that our Nettleton folks fit into the Christmas story rather well - common, country folks out in the weather going from place to place celebrating the birth of the Savior. Those original shepherds had nothing on us. The Good News of great joy is for all people. Go tell it on the mountain and in the valley, in the factory and on the farm, in the city streets and across the countryside, in the sunshine and in the snow storm - Jesus Christ is born.           

My "Immanuel" Moments

This Advent season I've been thinking about those very special, even sacred moments of my life - call them "Immanuel" moments - when God came near to me. When in the midst of crisis or pain or on a wave of great joy or in times of surprising epiphany, God shows up. Immanuel - God with me. Of course, God's always around, everywhere, all the time, but sometimes, much to our amazement the dark night suddenly lights up, angels sing, shepherds watch, kings bow. God shows up, unmistakable and unforgettable. May I share a few of my "Immanuel" moments with you?

• As a little boy and the youngest of eight kids, it was a big moment for me when on Christmas Eve as we gathered around our tree, it was finally my turn to read the Christmas story from Luke's Gospel. As I read the words I could imagine the Christ Child smiling at me.
• Once on the back porch of our home, as a sixteen year old boy I sat under a starlit sky and heard Him whisper my name. My life would never be the same.
• Late at night lying awake on my bunk at college after my first date with Suzanne. I was just beginning to learn how to love from the Original Lover who seemed to be whispering, "Don't blow this, you dope."
• In my little blue VW, stuck in a snowstorm and in a storm of heart-breaking circumstances, I suddenly realized I was not alone. Bethlehem's Boy was there in the bucket seat beside me.
• The nurse in labor and delivery just said, "Here, hold your daughter," and introduced me to my new owner, a baby girl who along with her brothers, staked a claim on my heart and would teach me more about God's love than all of the colleges and seminaries put together. 
• I remember a rental house just a few blocks from our church, as I was delivering all of the Christmas that we had collected for a struggling family. A young nursing student and mother of three thanked me as I carried in each load and assured her, "There's more, there's more." I'm pretty sure that Christ came with me, but He decided to stay awhile after I moved on.
• It was an intensive care unit, as I held tightly to the hand of a precious friend and partner in ministry and assured her of our love and God's care. Someone with scars of His own came near and in a little while He took her home.

I call them "Immanuel" moments, when the God who came near long ago comes near to us, right in the middle of our lives. Tis the season to remember and reflect on your own "Immanuel" moments. How about telling your story? Maybe that's part of your "Good news of great joy" that is just too good to keep yourself.

And whether we laugh or cry, sing or sob, we know the Gift has been given, the Promise has been kept, a Savior has been born to us. Call His name Immanuel.

Practicing My Thanksgiving Scales

It's time once again to pause and give thanks, to reflect on the abundance of blessing in our lives. As I think about it, it seems to me that our gratitude is usually expressed on kind of a sliding scale, depending on our present life situation, of course, but also based on our own maturing faith. What have we learned along the way and what have we come to appreciate about life that never used to show up on our radar? Even more, what have we learned to value that we used to whine about? Hopefully, we are still growing and learning to be grateful not just for the simple pleasures and basic needs which God provides, but also for the tough stuff, the struggles, the difficulties, even the painful life lessons almost always learned the hard way. It's a grown up gratitude that I think pleases God most.

So here's my Thanksgiving list on a sliding scale, from the simple and obvious blessings to the difficult and disguised ways in which God works for my good:

I am thankful for...

• unexpected hugs.
• cards that have more handwritten words than printed.
• the wonderful smell and taste of Old Testament cooking - throw the meat on the fire.
• my sister Judy's chocolate cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
• the last bright red leaf on the sidewalk.
• hearing the guitar actually making music in my own hands.
• the grace of two-man scramble, not having to play all of my hooks and shanks and slices.
• my wife, Suzanne, a one-man woman and a one-woman man on the long journey together, nearly 30 years and many more miles to go.
• my favorite word, "Dad", and three wonderful children, pretty much adults now, who light up my life and fill me with pride and hope.
• the big wet smile and bright eyes of each new believer I baptize. I know God smiles, too.
• a chance each year to deliver Christmas and put presents under someone else's tree.
• how it feels to light a candle on Christmas Eve.

And, I am learning to be thankful for...

• insights gained.
• lessons learned.
• obstacles overcome.
• pain endured.
• more reasons to be humble.
• help received in time of need.
• strength to persevere.
• opportunities to serve others.
• prayer without words.
• songs I cannot sing without tears.
• God's stubborn and persistent love.
• the amazing way that Christ puts His hands inside mine and lets me touch others with His love.
• a lonely path, a skull-shaped hill, and an empty tomb.

And, gratefully, I am finally learning that what I already possess is a thousand times more precious than anything I may lack.

Being a Force of Nature

"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy." - George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman

"There are vast tracts of undeveloped life in most of us. We have capacities for creativity, for love and for accomplishment that lie fallow. We are dormant in our personal relationships and get pushed around unconscionably. We are timid in our work and get passed over for promotions. We are intimidated in our marriages and get used. We feel futile in our communities, fated to shabby and shoddy service from government and business.

Then, from time to time, a person stands up among us and announces how marvelous it is to simply be human." - Eugene Peterson, Earth and Altar