Reality Check

Better Days

2011-12-13T17:52:00.000-08:00

In February 2010 I published a somber post about a pastor's perspective when families lose someone the love to death. I concluded the note with a prayer that a young couple who lost their infant at birth would face better days. I'm happy to report that Michael & Melissa experienced joy in the maternity wing last Friday as God sent them a healthy and beautiful son named Noah James Dwight Whaley. As I stood huddled with the elated family of this couple while they gazed of their newest member of the family, I thought of how different this scene was from that bitter winter afternoon last year. Yes, there were tears again but these were joyful ones. It was great to hear laughter and the oohs and ahs that come when another child is born. I am glad they waited patiently for those better days to come. When I left the hospital Friday evening, the snow gently cascaded around me. For a moment I felt I had found sanctuary before God where I considered how is able to turn our sorrows into joy. Noah, welcome to our world!

The Funeral Preacher

2011-11-11T14:52:00.001-08:00

This week I returned to the place I called home for thirteen years. Shoals Indiana is situated in a forested and sparsely populated county that contains a handful of traffic lights. It was a stunning late autumn morning, as I drove over roads that weaved and bobbed over hills and dipped through valleys that traced State Route 450 from Bedford to Shoals. Though the air had a noticeable chill, I could not resist lowering my window to breathe in air filled with distinct whiffs of wood burning stoves and the fragrances of trees that yielded their leaves to the woods below. Though the winds served to remind me that winter was not far away, the rustling of thinly coated branches soothed my mind on my way through quaint tranquil places called Williams and Trinity Springs and Dover Hill. There's only one funeral home in this town and everyone from the community can drive by the north side of the building and read the signboard to find out who died that week and when the service will be held. I came to town for the Joyce Downs service. Not only had I known her through my years as pastor in the community, but several of her family members were part of my congregation in Dover Hill. I mostly came to support, one of her granddaughters, Lesley, who married our oldest son Jason. She was very close to her grandmother and it was difficult to gather for that final goodbye.I was curious as to who would officiate the service as two of Joyce's sons were ordained ministers. I wondered if Larry & Jim would share the difficult duties. Instead of her sons though, it was a long time pastor and friend to the family, Rev. Claude Chastain. As the clock struck 11 am., the funeral director escorted the pastor down that oft traveled path from the director's office to the lectern positioned at the foot of the casket, next to a window in the corner of the room. When I saw Claude take his place before the crowd, a deep settled peace filled the room. From 1994-2007 I had was stood where he was standing that morning. But there were many more times when I was just there to support friends or family connected to the church or through acquaintances in the community. When I was "off duty," most often I had the privilege of watching Rev. Chastain minister to a room of mourners.Rev. Chastain is not merely the pastor of the Shoals Church of the Nazarene, his nearly 40 years in the community qualified him to be pastor-at-large to the whole community. He has a meek yet winsome style that makes him approachable to those who need a word from the Lord. When he stands before a grieving family, you have the sense that he genuinely loves and cares for the one whose memory is being honored and for all who are lined in the rows before him. More importantly I always felt that God had some comforting words to share through him. I have never heard a minister read the Word of God with such heart-felt inflection. He speaks the Bible as a man of God who has walked through and lived between its pages for his whole life. When he reads from a passage it seems so personal and direct, being just ripe for the moment to wipe away a tear or to embrace a heavy heart. He is plain spoken, yet not in a distant way, but as if you are sitting on the other end of a coffee table receiving godly counsel for the days ahead. I have heard prayers with "thees" and "thous" that distract my attention away from the One who is listening to our petitions but when Claude speaks that way, it seems fitting and natural, for it's how he has probably always talked with God about others.At the conclusion of the service, I had the honor to speak with him and thank him again for another well delivered message and ministry to hurting people. As I looked at him this week, I was mindful of a man, who has endured much, loved much and served much. It remains to be seen if I will ever have a chance to speak with him again as the miles between us are great and I don't know how much longer he will remain in Shoals. When I read in the Bible that one day God is going to tell His children, "Well done, good and faithful servant," I can't help but think that the Funeral Preacher will be one of the first to hear those words. Thanks, Rev. Chastain, for thirty-nine well lived years of ministry in Martin County! And even from a distance, you still inspire me to press on!

Chicago's Oldest Rescue Mission

2011-11-08T09:21:00.000-08:00

This week our church was moved by the presentation of 2 guest speakers from the Olive Branch Mission in Chicago Illinois. Pastors David Bates & Joel Smith shared with us about Chicago's oldest outreach center which has been around for 143 years. Listening to the stories of selfless, bold and compassionate people who were willing to leave the safety of rural America to engage and serve some of the most broken people of America's 3rd largest city was quiet compelling. Hearing just a few of the great redemptive stories stirred the hearts of Real Life worshipers who yearn to love and serve our community in deeper ways than ever before. I believe God made it clear that there is a direct correlation between local and global ministry. Both matter and bring fresh life into the body. When Pastor Bates,mission director, called Pastor Joel forward to share his story it was clear that God's anointing was on this team. He began by offering a song of praise and gratitude to God for what He has done and to call us to always remember the forgiveness and compassion God demonstrated to us when we were lost, without hope. He shared how his life began with great promise as a triple jump track star who still holds the 12 best record in the nation but how he began to waste his talents with many addictions in his life. One day, while partying he shares how he felt so empty inside and recalled his godly mother's oft repeated words, "You need Jesus." He prayed to God for a clean break and went to the hospital to seek help and for intensive care with his destructive cravings by getting into a place for recovery. He insisted that they find him a Christian-based recovery center and through divine series of events he was placed at Olive Branch. He begin to experience the transformation he really longed for that would would set him on the path that would lead to meaning & rediscovered purpose. By God's grace he not only recovered but became an example that went from a volunteer apprentice to fully employed ministry leader. Ten years later, he now sits as a member of the OBM governing board and more importantly a remarkable testimony to the way God continues to use the Olive Branch Mission. As the service ended, I sensed God's direction to challenge people to pray about becoming a part of a team that will travel to visit and serve at OBM. It moved my heart to see more than half the church standing up for the challenge. I just believe that this trip will change Real Life forever. It is exciting to think about the ways we will return, ready to serve our own neighbors with fresh vibrant vision and greater compassion. We raised more than $1700 for OBM and I can't help but think, though it's being sent to Chicago, it has become a seed planted right here in Mansfield

The Future... What's Up With That?

2011-11-03T05:10:00.000-07:00

I have been doing a series on Sunday's called "BACK TO...." This past week it was "Back to The Future." I made a passing comment that on Wednesday we would be unpacking some of the stuff we couldn't cover that morning. Specifically I was going to teach on the Rapture. Like most churches these days, it seems increasingly challenging to get more than a faithful few to show up on Wednesdays. I confess I was very surprised to see nearly double the usual number come out last night! It seems that people are willing to come out for midweek when the future is in the spotlight. I'm definitely interested in dealing with the future, especially in these days when some "leading" church speakers are downplaying and diluting and outright disregarding what the Bible says about it. Anyway... I think we are on to something for Wednesdays, at least for awhile. I hope the word spreads and more come out next week. I will continue to remind people that we don't want to spend much time debating or speculating but delving into what the Bible says about the future. The bottom line has never changed: BE READY & HELP OTHERS BE READY TOO.

Prodigal Son Story Never Gets Old

2011-10-03T08:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I preached from this most popular of parables for the second or third time in 4 years.There's a reason it's often spoken of from pulpits- it's just too amazing to think that God will take waywards back with out scolding or withholding affection. I've lived in 5 states and an island in over 20 homes through 49 years. I have come to realize that asking many of us where home is, may not be easily answered. In truth I have come to embrace the truth -my true home is with God.On Sunday we learned through a prodigal's story why people leave home. It's about taking control, being autonomous and calling all the shots. That the wayward lived in a far country suggest that for many of who stray from home, we're deluded in top thinking that our dreams and desires come true when we can get as far from the Father as possible. The Father is willing to dispose an inheritance portion to his eager son. He takes no pleasure in such requests because he knows how things will go down. It always becomes a heart breaking moment when people demand to leave the Father's house. God will never detain those who wish to abandon His care.Life away from home never turns out as expected. The prodigal's dreams often turn into nightmares. The wealth of ones resources usually go up in smoke when lust and greed rule a wayward's heart. What makes a dream turn ugly is often the unexpected calamity that strikes at the least opportune moment. For the independent son, it comes in the form of a wide-spread drought that coincides with personal bankruptcy. The once self-sufficient young man is no longer captain of his soul, he is now hungry and dependent on the kindness of strangers. In abundance, his friends were unnumbered but in poverty none could be found. All that he longed for, control, wealth, women, luxuries evaporated with his deluded dreams under the hot sun of affliction.Jesus gives us the ability to overhear the thoughts of a wayward son wallowing in the mire of poor choices. His fuzzy brained thinking is replaced by more clarity than he had when he cooked up his personal dream under his father's roof. Sobering moments are a dire necessity to gain life-changing perspective. King Solomon noted that sorrow and not laughter has more of a refining influence upon us (Eccl. 7:3). The prodigal son comes to realize not only how bad things are for him, but how good his dad's servants have it compared to him. For once he is realizing how he has taken for granted blessings he once enjoyed. Down and out is where he is able to look past his senses and into his heart. A heart he realizes that has sinned against both his father and The Father. There's no need to cover his pain any more, he becomes real for the first time in a long time. Through confession he emerges from the depths with an attitude that moves from entitlement to humility. His only hope is to go back with lesser dreams of being accepted back on the farm not as son but a slave.All these thoughts ultimately demand action if there's any hope of better days than this. There are many who know they are far from home. They know what they should do and yet so many never make it back for a lack of decisiveness. That first step home may have been the toughest, but the beauty of the story only begins with that first step home. From this point on, the father again takes the initiative. He sees the distant horizon and recognizes the silhouette of his broken and beaten dreamer. He notices that the walk is not so certain and confident as it was the day he left. Struggling to make it home again, the father's heart overflowed with such love and compassion that it set dad's feet to dashing towards his wayward son. He did not wait for him to crawl all the way home. He set aside the pain he caused a father's heart to let him know he would take him back without any reservation. Lavished with gifts and a party, the father drowned out his son's timid request to come back as hired hand. If the prodigal was coming home, he was to come home completely once again. The Father's joy overshadowed and surprised this runaway son. He knows that a miracle has taken place. A son who plunged into a labyrinth of broken dreams and death, climbed out and back to life again. Not all who leave home, come back. Some go far away and convince themselves that they are too far gone to come back. Others are too proud to admit they messed up and so they opt to die in the pit of their nightmare. How sad. How unnecessary! And this is why this story never gets stale and musty to the wayward heart. Pastor's please keep sounding the story of a Father who will take broken, exhausted and soul-trampled sons and daughters back. I'm thankful that I got to witness men & women experience the joy of coming back home into the arms of the Father.

There Are People Out There

2011-09-28T11:47:00.000-07:00

I was raised in a church that was committed to sharing the Gospel with the goal of reaching lost people. I'm part of a denomination that places a priority on spiritual conversions. I was raised in the culture of altar calls and revivals. In fact, I came to an altar at a revival when I was 13. I'm thankful to be part of an evangelical culture and entered pastoral ministry with that mind-set. This has been the continued focus of my ministry over the years. Something dawned in me about ten years ago, however, that has been troubling. It seems that much of the incentives and measures of success have centered upon church attendance charts. In other words, how many people attended the church service? It has dawned upon me that much of our reaching out is short-armed. By that I mean the church has tended to embrace seekers only if they walk into their places of worship. In the book "Why Churches Die," it revealed that churches who focus on Come strategies will eventually experience death.It was ten years ago that I began to shift from thinking in terms of how many un-churched people came to how many church people went? I have come to believe if the un-churched aren't coming to our houses of worship, we blame the devil, the corruptness of society and the hardness of hearts to hear truth. Although we maintain that we are committed to winning the lost, it seems to include a disclaimer that says, as long as they come into our building. When they stop coming, most churches are content to live within a holy bubble, among like-minded people huddled together with a line drawn between the saved and the unsaved. Soon we become absorbed with our own intimate pursue of God while we seem resigned that those beyond our walls remain far and distant from Him. I would think as a saints heart draws near to God, he would eventually find that in the Creator's heart is a yearning to reconcile with those who are far from Him. He would come to discover that Jesus came to seek and to save the lost. That Christ was not sitting in some temple waiting for the broken to show up but instead he went through towns and villages to enter the lives of the lost. If the lost are not inside our 4 walls, then we need to get outside the box to enter their lives. I still believe God transforms many hearts during the act of worship but still much of the impact needs to be outside the box. I agree that Satan is waging intensive warfare as time is winding down. I also believe that a morally bankrupt culture does the church no favors. And that studies reveal a coldness toward Christianity and the church in these last days. This is when my eyes were opened to the fact that the church must adopt a Go-To-People focus if we are going to be faithful to our calling to make disciples.So this is where I find my heart these days. It started in Dover Hill Indiana when the church started to invest their resources in the thing they said mattered most- lost people. When the church started forming work teams that went to their neighbors other towns to tangibly demonstrate God's love through acts of service, the environment changed in worship. Meeting people at their point of need, we started to see barriers to the church come down and many people came to Christ. It would be dishonest to say I didn't care about how many showed up on Sundays anymore but the Body of Christ was more beautiful when she took up her towel and basin to serve broken people. I witnessed new joy among God's people and felt better that we were not engaged in short-armed evangelism anymore.Coming to Real Life I yearned to see that same passion for hurting souls demonstrated. It took awhile but soon we aligned ourselves with His will for our church. For three years we have offered a monthly ministry called ACTS or A Call To Serve. Each month we open our facilities as a base of operation for serving hot meals, providing clothes and household supplies. It took awhile for the bond to develop but now there's a sense of community, a trust and an openness to hear Good News. We give away coats, school supplies and Christmas gift to area kids. We pray for and over people who share their needs with ACTS team members. There's genuine joy among team members and new people are joining the ranks of service all the time. Last Saturday we had our annual fall festival where around 400 people came for a day of fun and fellowship all day long! Among them were many of our ACTS friends which stirred such joy in my heart. To see their smiling faces, knowing that much of their lives have been centered on pain and brokenness, confirmed to me that this is what the true biblical evangelism culture is all about! We have seen ACTS friends come to the Lord who are now attending on Sundays. We expect others to come to know Christ in the coming months. When the focus is merely on getting a crowd for an hour on Sundays, I don't think I could feel any success again if it's coming at the expense of neglecting the neighborhood through the week. It would be a shallow victory with out compassion-soaked hearts that care enough for the lost that they will get out of the box to bless the hurting. Are you stretching your arms and hearts far enough to reach beyond 11 am. Sunday worship?

Afghanistan Again

2011-07-09T19:12:00.001-07:00

Andy has been home on leave for the past two weeks and tomorrow he boards a plane once more to head back into the fray of war. It seems like a blink of the eye since we patiently waited his arrival into our arms on that Friday night that amounted to nearly 6 hours of flight delays. It was a glorious night when he emerged from the gate door that led to his plane. We were anxious and filled with wonder as he was making his way from his outpost to our home once again. We were apprehensive with how we might find him back on home soil. Would he be so different? Would he seem distant? Would he feel at home quickly or remain restless? How much effect would that IED have on him?
What we found was our son, happy to be home with us once again. He wanted to do the American stuff like cook outs, shopping, and just sitting around the house watching tv or chatting about small stuff. We had a packed vacation planned and I made it clear that this time would be dedicated to him and my family. It was a great time together. The open house gave Andy an opportunity to feel overwhelming support in his service to our country. There was Brad's wedding and time spent in a place called home for 13 years. What pride I felt as I saw him in his Class A uniform escorting a bridesmaid down the aisle of the Dover Hill Christian Union Church. We returned home long enough to recharge a night before heading up to Niagara Falls. It was a relaxing time and I could tell that Andy & Caleb were having a great time, which made Kelly & I happy that we planned this getaway. We even stayed an extra night because it went so well.
The last two days have been spent doing as little as possible. Just resting up and eating what ever sounds good. Laughing and watching Sanford & Son reruns have been good enough the past 2 days.
Tonight my eyelids are weighing heavy while my heart stirs restlessly knowing that in the morning we take our soldier back to the airport. These have been 15 great days together! I did my best to shove out thoughts of his leaving until I could no longer push. Once again his room will be empty. The yellow ribbons will come down. The conversations will be sparse once again. I will find myself awake some nights again praying for divine protection on him and his platoon. I will check facebook to see if he logged in to add a friend, pictures or change his status. We get to do this all again. The next time he comes home it will probably be cold and perhaps there will be snow flakes racing across the deck again. I will get a half year older and we will experience plenty while we are thousands of miles apart but one thing remains constant- our love for each other and the pride mixed with sadness I will feel apart from him. I'm counting on dear friends to pray for him and each of us as we say goodbye again to one fine soldier

Changes Coming My Way

2011-01-21T08:54:00.000-08:00

I'm in the middle of a sermon series on change right now. As I think about changes, that seems to be the theme of my life lately. The brightest of changes in the recent past is the arrival of my first grandchild. I'm looking forward to time with Alex this weekend, in fact. I also learned that next summer we are getting our second daughter-in-law, as Brad plans to marry Courtney. These are wonderful changes that have been thrust upon my life. Some changes I have been less eager about like, meandering around in the middle ages of my life which is accompanied by my first pair of glasses, a set of partials, even less hair, more joint aches and the constant battle with becoming more of me than last year (weight that is). I know that these changes come with the fast approaching 5-0 on the nearing horizon and I'm glad I don't have to like them. Then there are changes I simply wish would never come my way. I did not like saying "Goodbye" to Andy as he loaded up his rucksack and headed to Afghanistan. Some days I do not like realizing our little boys grew up to become men who no longer needed dad's hands on approach to parenting but instead occasional advice, and then only when it's sought.

Truth is, the only changes we are eager to embrace are the ones that bring pleasure to our lives. There are some changes we may not be eager about but we live with them because we are warned in advance that they're coming. And there are some changes that matter how hard we may try to alter them, we simply can't. Wow, that is a powerless feeling too! That's how I felt when Andy left for the Middle East in a danger zone! How do you deal with the things you can't change.

In high school I became familiar with the "Serenity Prayer."
"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change. The courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference." It is a prayer I admire and apply more as I wade through all the changes that have come my way!

It's good to know I'm in a large company of people who are up against unchange-ables!
Even the Apostle called Paul hit the wall a time or two in his life with things he could not change. In particular I go to II Corinthians 12 for comfort when I'm up against a wall that won't move for me. He describes his unchanging circumstance as a "thorn in the flesh." It was uncomfortable and I suspect since Paul wasn't really a whiner, it must have been pretty bad. But he started praying to God to take it away.

After three efforts of pleading for God to take it away, he realized God had no intentions of changing his circumstances. He discovered somewhere along the way that the changes he wanted weren't the ones God had in mind. This is the moment of breakthrough not only for Paul but for me too. Sometimes the changes that are supposed to take place are not around us but WITHIN us! For Paul, the no to his prayer request was accompanied by something much better; GRACE.

When things don't improve on the outside it's because we may need to discover something better and stronger that outlast misfortunes or thorns, the amazing grace of God. I sometimes wonder if we always received what we requested from the Lord, if we'd ever really learn how to GROW IN GRACE. And like Paul, we need to discover that the true source of our strength is not found in the erasure of distressing situations but in the power that fills the absence of our own strength, God's! It is then we are able to rejoice when things don't fade away because we pray harder but when we rest in the strength we can not claim is our own.

In the Time Rapids

2010-09-22T06:14:00.000-07:00

Of late my life feels like a boat whisked into the rapid currents of a river. By that I mean it seems that with little effort time is just breezin' by as I head downstream. I think it's a combination of significant life passages we all go through. This morning I popped Caleb's bedroom door open to wish him the best as he heads out for his very first day of college. For those who don't know, he is the last of our 4 sons and so another marker in time was just eclipsed.

Yesterday I said good bye to summer and today I'm greeting my 48th autumn. It was a gentle hello at least. And yet it seemed to whisper to me, "I will quickly march by and all traces of me will be covered by fresh fallen snow." I have a lot of traveling ahead of me over the next 2 months. All of it taking me to Georgia where I will celebrate with Brad & Andy the manly achievements of graduating from both Infantry & Ranger schools at Ft Benning. I look forward to these significant moments in my sons lives and yet I feel it will happen all so quickly.

These days I feel like that old Dunkin Doughnut commercial where they guy shuffles out the door saying, "Time to make the doughnuts," followed by him coming homes saying, "I made the doughnuts." He continues to do this daily until he gets to the point when he heads out to make the doughnuts only to find that he is also standing startled and face to face with himself coming home. His coming home side says to his going out self, "I MADE THE DOUGHNUTS!" It may not be doughnuts I'm making these days, nonetheless, I sometimes think I catch a shadow of my coming home self as I head out the door to another day.

I'm not bemoaning it; not that I haven't in the past! I just quit feeling the need to fight it, deny it or suppress it. I not only accept it but have learned to work with it for these two reasons.

* The rapids of time changes my perspective on the daily challenges I face. In the past my tendency has been to exaggerate the magnitude of the present tense. Problems and victories tend to be overvalued in the moment. Over time you learn not to get too carried away with the ups and downs of the daily grind. It is not that you lose passion in the moment, you just manage it better instead of wasting it on every perceived crisis.

* The rapids of time will carry me toward the destiny God had in mind for me from the start. This does not mean that I'm anxious to get to the end. I want to enjoy the ride, yet realize not all of it will be pleasant. Some of it will be down right scary and heart wrenching. I'm trying to learn how to appreciate the journey yet mindful that there is a final destination at some point. If I'm willing to be led by Him, even when the currents flow faster or even slower than I'm comfortable with, in the end, it will take my life toward God-ward purposes.

The river's bends and drops are as mysterious as the ride's speed and scenery. Today I am just looking around listening to the gush of lively currents as I feel the wind's cool wisp on the back of my neck. I will not bail out or try to paddle upstream. This is the ride God has for me and I'll be alright.

When Good People Pray

2010-09-17T07:17:00.000-07:00

I know a lot of people who pray because I spend a big chunk of my days with spiritually-oriented people. As a pastor, I am expected to listen to the needs of others and to talk to God on their behalf. I've done that for over 25 years now and am happy to serve as an intercessor in times of pain, confusion and brokenness.

In the ministry I have had people who have expressed that they pray for me often, some even daily. The first time I recall someone was that faithful to speak with God about my ministry and my family, I was taken by surprise. Ray's son was one of the student's in my very first ministry responsibility, 28 years ago. As a youth pastor just getting started, he must have known I needed extra prayers. But it wasn't until many years after I had moved on to become a senior pastor in other places that we had a brief conversation in which he informed me that he prays for me everyday. I was surprised that long after I had left Columbus Ohio he stilled prayed for me. It reminded me that I don't fully realize how many people are supporting me in prayer.

I know one thing though, if it were not for praying people, I would not be able to endure the things I have encountered along the way. If only I could go back and hear the words of good praying people while I was under attack by the enemy. If people had not prayed at strategic moments what would have ultimately happened along the way?

Of late the road of ministry has been very challenging, strung with some heartbreak and disappointments. The tendency for pastors is to put up a good front that tells people it doesn't get to them. Because I haven't been able to veil disappointments very well, I have opted to deal with this differently. Instead I seek out good praying people with whom I can honestly share what I feel, who aren't about scolding me when I'm hurt but instead listen and more importantly know how to pray for and with me.

I'm thankful for those good people who took the time to listen to me and to speak with God about my needs. Strangely though the days are very trying right now, I feel strengthened and supported through these prayers. I can't really explain what's going on inside me at the moment but I feel God is even closer than the whispering words of my dear praying friends. Friends that I know and others that simply feel a tug to talk to God for me. To all who are praying these days- thanks, I need all you can lift up at this time!

On the Edge of Fall

2010-08-26T04:21:00.000-07:00

This morning when I stepped out on the deck to give our dog some fresh water, I was overtaken by cool refreshing morning breezes! I'm thinking a week or two of early mornings like that and I will be captivated by some of the Artist's brilliant brush strokes upon His creation.

Last night Kelly & I were just talking about, not only how quickly the summer has passed, but how rapidly this stream called life is flowing right now. It's almost like being caught in some rapids with an oar of futility. Instead of fighting it, I choose to hang on and enjoy the ride!

My Thursday routine allows me the opportunity to work from my study at home. I like this because, not only am I able to better prepare Sunday's message, but the day serves well as a time to reflect and view the bigger picture of my life. At this moment this is where I find myself in a quiet house while the sun's rays are just breaking through my window.

It seems at the moment that a lot of currents are pushing me well down the stream of my life this summer. There is the grandson, Alex who's 1st birthday is being celebrated this weekend. How does someone so new in my life invoke such love and joy from my heart? To watch my son step up to his role as a loving parent is a sight that brings such contentment. There's the graduation from high school of our last, Caleb. A milestone that typically signals the start of an empty nest. While it's comforting to know that he is staying here for the next two years, as he attends a local OSU branch, there are fresh reminders that he is increasingly independent of us a little more each day. Then there are my two Army sons that make me both extremely proud and much more prayerful. Andy and Brad are doing something they were not made to do when they committed to Uncle Sam. To subject themselves to the physical and mental demands of military training under the hot, hot Georgia sun is amazing in itself. But when I think that they volunteered in such perilous days of global conflict, I am driven to me knees not only for them but all our brave men & women. I seriously ask myself, how did they become so bent on pushing the bodies, hearts and minds to such limits? How did such boldness, drive & passion possess their souls?

This summer has been marked by rest and restlessness.It has been a season of epiphanies, some pleasant and some a little more unsettling. It seems that the streams of my family life, coupled with the streams of my ministry life are bring things a little more into focus for me. This dying to self thing the Bible speaks of makes a lot more sense than at any time in my life, especially that part Paul spoke of when he says he does it with every flip of the calendar. On one level it's tough to "die." This is not death in the sense of physical but rather the spiritual, emotional and mental dimensions of me.

I have had to die to the fact that I can't go backwards in my life. There have been times this summer that I have wished I could return to the days when our boys were running around in there footie pjs, eating cereal while they watched Saturday morning cartoons! There are times when I look in the mirror and wished the thinning gray hair on my head was thick again and that the love handles that I now carry would magically disappear. Sometimes when I drive by a crowded sandlot I wish that I was there again coaching and cheering my sons up to bat with the bases loaded.

I have also had to hold a funeral for the way I "dreamed" things would be in "the ministry" at this stage of my life. I was under the delusion that as I gained experience in the Calling, so I would grow great big churches! (And by grow, I confess, that meant numbers!) In truth, what I sadly discovered is that I have staked too much of my self-worth as a minister on the "How Many?" criteria. My definition of success and failure have revolved too much around this illusion. Over two years I have been dying out to my need to be validated by the questions like "How many did you have at church Sunday?" or "How big is your church's budget?" or "How many staff members do you have?" I want a growing church, and a healthy budget and many people involved in accomplishing "Big Things for God." But not at the expense that these things will any longer define my life.

I have learned that dying can be painful and sometimes it is a long drawn out process. Temptations come along that try to entice me away from the anguish. Running from crosses is the natural inclination when it gets really hard. The opportunity to break from it all and withdraw from life, as I now know it, looks inviting when I hurt. This is the part of "dying" I really hate.

But I have found that dying also has a better side. We tend to fight death off because it is hurts and don't completely know what's beyond it. We read about it in the Bible and we summoned to take it by faith. But if there's one thing the death of Jesus teaches us is that He rose again to better things past the graveyard experience.

Here are a few things I am learning to enjoy in this dying to live experience:

1. RELATIONSHIPS Along the streams of adversity I have experienced a company of friends I could never have treasured as deeply without some scrapes and cuts. You know who you are and I thank God for you!

2. RESIGNATION There's a lot of stuff I simply can't control and that's ok because I don't have to manage some things! When my sons grew up I couldn't dictate what they could or couldn't do. I may give God's word weekly to people in hopes that they will make decisions to be more like Christ. Whether they choose to or not is beyond my control. I accept that along with the fact that God rules and so I just need to talk to Him about those things that scare me or bother me or overwhelm me.

3. reVISION Truer success is coming into focus in my life, not based on how big I build a church (though I want to) or how well known I may be my peers and community or even how good things turn out for our family. Instead it's about faithfulness from this point forward. The ability to stick with it when the raft feels like it's going to flip over and to stay in it until the end of all things, well, that's true success! If my family, my wife and children and grand kids feel more loved. If my congregation and community has the security of knowing I'm growing more in love with Jesus and with them, I think may hear God's, "Well done good and faithful servant," regardless of my mistakes and failures in this kind of dying I have encountered so far.

Brad Is Off to Fort Benning

2010-07-26T05:35:00.001-07:00

This morning it's Brad's turn. He is on a van heading for Evansville Indiana and then routes to Indianapolis to catch a flight to Atlanta before landing in Columbus Ga. and more specifically Ft Benning. Like his brother Andy, Brad is getting ready for intensive basic & AI training to become a soldier in the US Army. I sit here wondering, how did we become such a military family? I know that I had a grandfather who was a Navy Sea Bee and Kelly's father was also in the Navy but I never dreamed of having two sons who set their sites on becoming soldiers. I don't recall any GI Joes in their toy boxes. Kelly wasn't big on toy guns when they were little either, although I think they were inclined to use their imagine to fashion weapons out of sticks, broom handles, etc. I am very proud of them and also scared at the same time. What a dangerous time to volunteer with all the troubles in the Middle East. A year ago we were sending off Andy and feel extra proud of the man he is becoming. I know the discipline and structure have made a big difference. Next week he also heads to Benning for Army Ranger school, which is quite an honor to be recommended. I know that Brad has what it takes to become a great soldier. I may sound like a proud Papa when I say this but- the Army is very fortunate to be getting such a young man to serve and protect our country. In the end, while enlisting is not the first counsel we would offer to our sons when considering a life-path, I know it's what they strongly feel they must do. We proudly support them in this decision and yet it is tempered with much prayer for a hedge of protection about them and godly wisdom to make wise choices with each opportunity that comes their way. May God bless all of our troops who serve all around the world.

Real Life Goes Mobile

2010-05-06T09:09:00.000-07:00

TEXT CONNECT to REAL LIFE

Easy As 9 5 2 8 5

What Is This?

New Way to PLUG IN to Real Life CC through the week
If you Text Message you will love it!
Get Key Real Life Info straight to your cell phone

Why Do It?

Get Latest Info on Upcoming Events

Pastor Real Life Word of the Week

Cancellations & Time Changes

Other Important News

How do I get started?

1. Send a Text Message to this number 95285
2. In the text message simply type REALLIFE
3. In short time you’ll get a confirmation note. THAT IS IT!

Important Note

Make sure you have a text messaging included in the contract with your service provider
Check with your provider for details on text usage

Grateful For The Pastoral Vote

2010-04-11T14:07:00.000-07:00

Today the Real Life Community Church voted to give me an extended tenure as pastor.

The members gave overwhelming support (over 80%) to provide me with an indefinite term as senior pastor. The approved decision eliminates an imposed specific timed-length term that necessitates a future votes every 3 years.

I look forward to building relationships and and a Kingdom vision with a long-termed perspective. I think this day marks the start of a corner turned at Real Life!

Thanks for demonstrating your confidence in me. Our family deeply appreciates the love and support you have offered to us! Let's start this new chapter strong.

SWEET 48

2010-03-22T08:50:00.000-07:00

I know there's a "Sweet 16" birthday but I guess sweetness for me took 4 times longer. I had a 2 day long birthday celebration which was far more than I could have hoped for this weekend. It started on Saturday playing with my 7 month old grandson. The day at Jason & Lesley's was laid back with cherry cake and presents! I got some new running gear, a Willie Mays biography and Spaghetti Warehouse gift card.

The celebration spilled over into Sunday at Real Life CC with all the Sunday school kids presenting me with cards they created and a birthday song just before service. After the service I was totally surprised by a room full of balloons & people celebrating my 48th! Thanks to Laura, Deb & Amber and their sneaky tactics to pull it off. I felt tremendously blessed by family and friends who went out of their way to show me love. Or maybe it was pity???

New Direction On Wednesdays

2010-03-02T12:07:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow marks the start of a new focus on Wednesdays @ Real Life. Since last fall we put our energies into equipping people in things like evangelism, teaching, prayer, marriage, spiritual gifts, leadership and finances. Some of those who participated have been ignited to serve God in bolder and far-reaching ways. I pray that that all who joined us have a deeper passion for ministry where ever God leads!

So what's the new thing about Wednesdays? Christianity 101, 201, 301 & 401.

A Chinese proverb goes like this: "Give a man a fish; you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish; and you have fed him for a lifetime." In essence that's what I feel like God wants me to do at Real Life today. Too often churches are built to give a fish or two a week to feed people through the week. What this new approach calls for is lessons that "teach people how to catch, clean and cook their own fish."

Here's how it will work. Every Wednesday we will start with some praise & worship and then shift into some practical teaching on how to develop a personal relationship with Christ on a daily basis. Attenders will get a weekly lesson designed to get the most of the discipleship experience. Along with the weekly notes, there will be practical tools given to guide people in a day-to-day encounter with God. There will be nine sessions per level.

Here is a preview of the first three sessions:
* DISCIPLESHIP & DISCIPLINE GO TOGETHER
* T.A.W.G. or TIME ALONE WITH GOD
* GETTING GOD'S WORD TO STICK

I believe in the great potential of this new direction. Just imagine the power of worship and spiritual influence when each of us makes a daily commitment to feed our souls! I have seen this ministry at work when I lived in Indiana. It works when people take it to heart and apply it to their daily lives. Meet us at Real Life on Wednesdays at 7 pm.

Being A Pastor

2010-02-23T11:40:00.000-08:00

I've been a pastor for 26 years and on some days I feel like I am brand new to this. Some days I feel like I signed up for far more than I ever dreamed. There's much about ministry that is routine and predictable. There are sermons to prepare, people to see, meetings and ministries to oversee. Some weeks are great. Others are uneventful. And then there was last week.

I married a couple last summer. This week they went into the hospital understanding that it was time to deliver their first born. I called to check on them and heard this would be the exciting day. I entered the room filled with excited and anxious family members. We held hands and prayed a blessing. I headed to the waiting room to hang around for awhile. One by one family members sauntered in and out of the waiting area with updates and anticipation. They were ready for some good news after a long winter with the loss of two close family members over the past 6 weeks. But there's nothing like the arrival of a little one to take the edge off the pain of loved ones laid to rest.

Most baby waiting rooms are full of joy. I heard John Maxwell say, "There's one place in the hospital that's happy, the maternity ward. But on Thursday, it wasn't. Over the speaker our conversations were abruptly halted by the words, "Code Pink." I deeply distressful feeling came over me and I could see it on the faces of those who sat in the circle. Staff, nurses, doctors rushed through the halls with carts and medical kits into the doors we had set gaze upon with joyful anticipation of a birth announcement.

In moments a somber looking nurse came out of the doors and dreadfully made a bee line for the waiting room. "The baby is not doing well," she slowly announced. We reached for each others hands and began praying with fervency. When the wave of prayer subsided we paused and then noticed the door swing open once again. This time it was the doctor with news that weighed like a thick dark cloud. With words of resignation he stated that they did all they could but the baby did not make it. A wave of sorrow overtook the room. I was thinking, "This is not how it should be. Not here. Not for them. Not today." But it happened just the same.

The next several hours were incredibly dark. I've known few experiences more agonizing than this day in pastoral ministry. I have often been around people who have died before. I have been around those who knew the end was nearing and I have been with families who thought their loved one was going to pull through surgery, only to learn they died on an operating table. I have done a funeral for a mother of two who lost control and was thrown out of her car. I have walked with families who have parted with someone through suicide, disease and accident. I have heard spouses and parents and children weep violently, as nurses informed them that their loved one was gone. But no sorrow have I felt so strongly as the one I stood near last Thursday.

This week I prepare my heart to minister to a family that fully expected to celebrate a bundle of joy. I so wanted to share in their joy and hold their little angel in my arms. This week's assignment won't be easy but I'm trusting Jesus to be there nonetheless.

Being in the ministry for such a long time allows a pastor plenty of opportunities to become jaded and cynical. But Thursday was not one of those days. At the end of a long day in the hospital I went home to my wife and last of our 4 sons. At supper we joined hands and I asked Kelly to say grace. As she prayed, I broke down not only over the events that just transpired, but knowing that I was also holding the hand of our son who came into the world under some similar complications that fell upon the couple who just lost theirs. Was it fair? NOT AT ALL! But my heart was rending with sorrow for Mike & Melissa, while bursting with deep gratitude for a healthy 18 year old who will graduate in a few months.

I pray for better days for two people and a whole family that have become very dear to this pastor's heart.

Honoring My Dad - Denzil Otero

2009-06-20T18:41:00.000-07:00

In honor of my dad, Denzil Otero, I want to highlight some things he has taught me so far:

1. Don't be bashful.
By nature I'm shy but he insisted that it's good to be more assertive or I miss opportunities.

2. Persistence and dedication pay off.
His hard work ethic has brought reward and so I also try to drive forward in my goals.

3. Laugh.
As a melancholic I can take things, well myself, too seriously. Finding humor is a good stress reliever.

4. Keep learning.
He got this from his dad who was still studying new words in the dictionary in his 90s and doing the crossword. Dad is always learning new things.

5. Learn to defend your beliefs with conviction.
With dad, he knows what he believes and is ready to debate others when he feels the need.

6. Adapt to life.
When disappointments come, he taught me it's an opportunity to think outside the box.

7. Love family.
Never had a doubt of his love for me when I did well or failed miserably. He has always been there to support and keep me honest about life.

8. Grand kids are great.
Dad lights up when he is with them or talks with them on the phone. He gets to see 2 of them this week. He makes me look forward to our grandkids!

9. Remember where you came from and tell stories about the past.
I have watched him tell stories to me son and I really don't know who loves it most, them, him or me. Dad taught me the power of stories reminds us where we've been and reveals a lot about us.

10. Be proud to be an Otero.
I love the sense of pride he has in our name. When I told him Andy got a tatoo on his chest he was so upset until I told him that it was a tatoo with our last name. Then he said with a smile, "He's proud of that name, eh?" I thankful for the name and our nationality that he gave me.

Often as I relate with my kids, I see and hear my dad coming out in me. That's a good thing. Thanks dad for 47 years of being there to guide, advise and support me through this big maze called life. I love you- Happy Father's Day!

Quit? Not In 100 Years!

2009-03-28T17:33:00.000-07:00

I turned 47 last week. I was starting to think, "Hey, that's not so young anymore." I told someone I wasn't going to play softball this year because I was getting... "Too old." Yuck! I really don't want to start thinking that way already. I'm ready to have lunch at McDonalds and I grabbed a copy of the Cleveland Plain-Dealer. Front page news was a "feel good" story. It was more like a, "Mark, you're a wimp" story. Anna Lark turned 100 years old on Thursday. I know that aren't many of century old people around but she stood out from the others. The reason she made me feel pretty lame when complaining about my occasional aches and pains is because she still works. Anna is a school crossing guard. She has been one in the Cleveland area as long as I have been alive. She seldom misses her duties and walks 2 blocks to her job site every day school is in session. She won't even talk of retirement. She says God "will stop me when I'm ready to stop." Until that day you can expect her to show up at the corner of Lee and Tarkington. Honk when you see her but stop if she blows her whistle or else! May God grant me, and each of us, the determination to give it our best until the final bell rings. Maybe I better look for my ball glove after all!

Public Meets Private

2009-03-07T11:06:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow morning I will do what I've been doing for 25 years. I will bring God's word to people during our worship service. While I look forward to the message on dealing with worry, I am going to get up with a heavy heart because my family is feeling the loss of my step father, who passed away today after a hard fought battle with cancer.

It's a reality for pastors, the private naturally spills over to the public. There's a part that wants to demonstrate God's grace when I hurt. It's important that we let people see God's comfort not just in the word but at work in their spiritual leader's life. I'm o.k. with that and it's needful. While it's normal to have some privacy with family matters, I understand there are times when people need to see that I am a very ordinary guy, who is very dependent upon an extraordinary God.

There have been a handful of times as a pastor when getting up to speak has been extremely difficult. This is one of those weeks when I'd like to be the silent worshiper tucked away in the back corner of the church. There I imagine that I can praise God in my storm with little awareness that I come hurting. Weakness makes me want to retreat, yet I know it may be the very resource God wants to use to impact some hurting people tomorrow.

I know God has used my weaknesses as a platform to help others in the past and so I will get up and trust him to make up for what I feel lacking due to my private battle.

..... Only Got 100 Years To Live

2007-12-07T03:04:00.000-08:00

Hazel Cobb will turn 100 years old on Tuesday. We were starting to wonder if this milestone would be reached. Last week, her family phoned me to say she was taken to the hospital. When I entered the emergency room on Saturday, she wasn't doing very well; and was even worse by Monday. I really felt, as we surrounded her bedside for prayer, it would likely be the last time. Sometimes a pastor senses when family members are coming to terms with the inevitable.

But leave it to her fighting spirit and God's purposes, when I walked back into her room on Wednesday, Hazel was back as the person I've known all along. There is an angelic look in her eyes that reveals the quality of her soul. As she spoke with me, I could tell she was back to herself because she picked up on themes so familiar. Of the prayers for her unsaved family members, of how she misses not being able to go to church and of singing her favorite hymns. She ask about my wife, Kelly's, surgery and if it was true that I was leaving the church. As we spoke of lighter things I heard that familiar chuckle I have grown to love. I know it's selfish but I have always felt like these visits have been more beneficial to me than to her. That's just the way it happens in the presence of such saints.

I was starting to think that my final funeral at Dover Hill might very well be Hazel's but now I doubt it. In fact Hazel has outlived my 13-year ministry span in Indiana. (A mere 87 year old when I started!) On Sunday the family is planning a party for Hazel right after the morning service. I hope to have an opportunity to say a few words in tribute of this great lady of God. She will, indeed, be the first person in my pastorates to reach the century mark. She has attain this milestone with much grace and has served as an inspiration to many of us.

There is much good fruit that is obvious from her years on this planet. But one day, eternity will show even more than meets the eye. If only I can only finish as well as Hazel Cobb, then I'll feel like my life made its mark for the sake of Jesus Christ.

Foot Race Or Human Race

2007-10-29T06:06:00.000-07:00

By nature, I am pretty competitive. I realize this when I enter a race. It's not that I think I will be the one who breaks the tape at the end but if I think I can pass someone at the end of a 5k I'll pour all I have in me to try to make it happen.

On Saturday I resisted this urge that wells up in a race. It was a cool damp morning in Shoals as we lined up at the post office for the first ever race to Spout Springs and back. The distance was approximately 2 and a half miles with cups of water, dipped from the famed spring, awaiting each runner at the half way mark.

Honestly, I was disappointed with the turn out as the only ones who showed up were 5 runners and 1 walker (Kelly, my wife, who was guaranteed to win her first walk race). The runners were 4 first time racers. Caleb (my youngest son), Nick (his best friend), Christin (our student pastor) and Dorothy (college student from our church).

As we strolled up to the start line they were expressing their fears of being able to finish the race. I did my best to encourage them with words but knew that they needed more than words to help them attain a new accomplishment. I had decided I would hang back and pace them, offering some positive words when they needed a boost along the way. At race's end I finished dead last, yet delighted. Even Dorothy's sprint at the finish would not awaken the competitive streak within me. At the end they were gasping for oxygen as we high-fived their new conquest.
Then I returned to the course to join Kelly as she finished another walk race in good form.

That day, I chose to die out to my need to finish first. I do not say that to present myself in a virtuous light but to reflect on my ultimate passion to help others win what they think is un-winnable! Truth is, that passion still burns with in me and I found pleasure not merely in running but in running alongside others who were crossing the finish line for the first time.

Although there were only six people who showed up to get into a foot race on a dreary late October morning, it was by far, one of the best human races I entered in 2007!

Ministry Where I Wish and Where I Do Not Wish

2007-06-27T04:22:00.000-07:00

I'm getting ready to spend a third straight day in the halls of a hospital. Pastoral care calls me there at times. Of late, I've spent a great percentage of my time among the sick and dying. At times I'm at peace, knowing God designed me to offer comfort to the hurting. But there are times I get restless over this part of my calling, especially when it overtakes all other aspects of my responsibilities to the church, my family and friends.

I know there are sermons that need to developed, new families that need to be more connected, upcoming outreach efforts that need attention, new board members that need to become acclimated to the leadership process, a church staff that needs to go to a new level, discouraged Christians that need to be uplifted and the list goes on and on. I seem to handle delays pretty well until it becomes a chronic matter. I can handle unexpected crises but I get a little unnerved when the best made plans go into the trash can for weeks at a time.

This may reveal something about my temperament to anyone who may do a quick scan of today's post. Yet I have a hunch that if more than a few pastors had just read the last paragraph, those feelings would also resonate with them.

I believe God must see the need to constantly remind me about a principle in the ministry: DON'T GRIP YOUR WEEKLY PLANNER TOO TIGHTLY.

I understand the risks of this approach. There are people and projects that will compete for your attention. There are times we have to say no to certain demands, so we can get the right things done first. Yet I have this nagging sense that sometimes the issue isn't so much about upholding the right priorities, as it is keeping control of my own destiny for the week. This requires a serious look into my heart and motives for following a daily ministry path.

The words of Jesus to Peter in John 21:18 hover over my thoughts on this matter. "Most assuredly, I say to you, WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER, you girded yourself and WALKED WHERE YOU WISHED; but when you are OLD, you will stretch out your hands, and ANOTHER will gird you and carry you WHERE YOU DO NOT WISH."

1. In our youth we, like Peter, yearn to be free and to control our destiny. We want to make the plans and call the shots. We have dreams to make OUR mark in this world.

2. But like Peter, we must deal with the reality of what it means to be a "Called One". It means deciding what kind of freedom we will chase after, our own or the one we find in following Jesus.

3. Ministry includes things for which we wish and for things we do not wish. Of course we get to pursue wishful pathways but we also have to accept that we must travel down some roads we'd rather not.

4. A younger Peter might not understand this truth but an older Peter would get it. The reason he was able to get it is because he would have to go through the process of dealing with plans and unexpected twists and turns along the way. Like him, we all must go through the slow and painful refining fire that brings us to peace with God's purposes in our lives, especially when they don't look so desirable.

So I am headed out for another day to the hospital. Only God really knows where I go from there. And I guess that should bring a comfort to all of us who seem to be losing control of our schedules this week!

Opening Day for Outreach

2007-05-02T06:34:00.000-07:00

Last night the Shoals Summer League 11-12 year old Reds won their home opener 9-1.

When I got to the park last night, the stands were overflowing with energetic spectators. Kids climbed out of minivans in their pristine uniforms, carrying brand new bat bags as they squealed with unreserved joy that they were finally getting to play "for real." Most of those brand new uniforms were grass stained before the contest ever started as they joined in spontaneous games of tag, as if they had to release some of their nervous energy on their first night under the lights.

No doubt about it, I love baseball and I love working with kids. This is not my primary reason for signing up for kids baseball, after a few years of stepping away. All 4 of my sons have come and gone through this league. So why do I do this now? Because it is a great place for ministry!

Pastors prepare sermons, administrate churches, visit sick people and dedicate babies. Those things are expected of me. One of my great loves is seeing people come to Christ. Since I am not the best door-to-door salesman for Christ, I have to pursue my best place for sharing Christ. And that place seems to be on the athletic field.

It's not that I have an evangelistic sermon to preach at the end of every ballgame, with 5 verses of Just As I Am as an invitational hymn. I only know this, that some of the best outreach ministry I have been a part of in this area, has taken place when I head to the ballpark. It's building relationships with these kids and their families that has opened doors to reaching lost people for Christ.

Already I see some very good opportunities. And we have only played one game. Yesterday I saw two boys that need to be encouraged to overcome their timidity. Some small steps were taken there as they now talk and make eye contact. Another boy candidly said he feels hated by some of his own family members and it bugs him. There are a lot of things that scoreboard in left field won't reveal.

When the game ended the young Reds pumped their fists in the air with triumph. In my heart I was happy for them but most of all thankful to be back where I most loved working in the Kingdom harvest field wearing a jersey and a ballcap.

My Friend's Final Tee

2007-02-23T06:42:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I learned that an older friend passed away. Leon Cook and I were connected in the ministry as we pastored churches just miles apart on Maryland's eastern shore. I was just entering my first full-time pastorate when our friendship began.

Leon was probably about 35 years older than I but age never seemed to be a factor. In fact, Leon had a very young spirit and was enjoyable to be with in those days. What I really liked about him was his warmth and sense of humor.

It was not uncommon for us to get together once a week for some golf at "Hog Neck," near Easton Md. It was there that we'd relax from the pressures of ministry and lose golf balls while finding others. Some days we'd go out on the executive course and play two rounds of golf.

But I'll never forget the perfect day, we never wanted to end. Beautiful deep blue skies and ideally warm and calm. That day as we'd finish nine holes we would decide to go another nine. The same ritual unfolded each time. When the final putt was made on #9, we'd look at each other and say, "How 'bout another nine?" Eventually I thought, he'd conceed and say "No, I'm too tired." But he never did, and even if I was exhausted, I wasn't about to admit it at my age! By days end, we had putted the ball into 45 holes.

I went home and collapsed on my living room floor like I had just been shot. Leon later admitted that his wife had to help coax him out of his bed the next morning. That memorable day lived on in our memory for these past 16 years.

Although we both left the shore for new ministries, whenever our paths would cross, we'd still reminisce about that perfect day when we'd almost unendingly say, "How 'bout another nine?"

Don't play much golf these days but in that phase of my life, it made a great outlet and started a great friendship. Thanks, Leon, for making a young pastor slow down to enjoy life and good fellowship with a colaborer in the Kingdom! I'll never forget that day nor, more importantly, you.

Goodwin's Restaurant Revisited 25 Years Later

2007-02-12T08:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's message had to do with raising the level of our service to God. In the message I expressed how enthusiastic we are about ministry at the onset of our journey with Christ. I took them back to the corner table in a family resturaunt Circleville Ohio circa 1981.

We shared a common calling to full time ministry and were students at Circleville Bible College (now Ohio Christian University). Young and ambitious we were, as we sat there munching down fries and slurpping our shakes. We traded dreams, critiqued sermons heard in chapel, and spoke of hopes to one day become pastors of highly "coveted" churches in our denomination. We were full of idealism and great passion to serve God and to make a lasting impact on our world. The food was good but the company was the best part of this ongoing ritual among friends heading in the same direction.

So what would it be like if we could come back to our table some 25 years later? For starts it would take quite a bit to regather our scattered bodies back to the table. At last check, Randy lives in Pennsylvania, Mark resides in Georgia, Tim is not that far away in Columbus, Sam went back home to North Carolina, and I have settled down in Indiana. Don't know about the rest of the clan, but I would order the usual, a Double-D Burger, fries and chocolate shake, promising to run it off the next day.

As we gathered around that table and got past the chit-chat and revisited the topic of ministry, what would be the general tone of discourse? What if we could hear old taped discussions of our ministry fantasies back in 81? Would we laugh and shake our heads in bewilderment about some of our notions? Would we say we were dead on or we missed it completely? Was it what we thought it would be? Did any dreams come true? Are we in thriving or just surviving mode? Do we still have dreams, though tempered with some harsh realities along the way? Do we still believe the best years are ahead of us or are they in the rearview mirror?

Back then we swapped dreams, today stories. Back then we'd paint ministry pictures with bright brush stokes, today we'd add some darker shadows in the landscape. I've learned that it's ok to update the artwork, so long as darker tones don't drown out the brilliant colors of yesterday. We use to cringe when talking of cynical ministers whose age we now are. They'd warn us about how nasty those sheep could be at times. We were told you must never get that close or trusting of people in your church or organization. We listened to lamentations about how it use to be really good to be a pastor back in the good old days. After a while, we would just tune them out as we vowed never to become like them.

Here we are 25 years later. Are we like them? Is the passion still there? Do we still have God-deposited dreams that burn within. Yeah, we are a little wiser, I hope, but do we still have the fever to serve the Christ we followed a quarter century earlier? How I wish we could get together to break bread and listen to stories for half a day. After all there's a lot to talk about over burgers and fries after 25 years.

Having Done Your Best Yet . . . . .

2007-01-23T14:02:00.000-08:00

I lived in the country in upstate New York. Some people have a hard time believing it but I actually did chores on a farm, witnessed animals get butchered, stepped in manure and was goosed by a goose!

I adopted a piglet named Orville. He was the runt of a litter on Lester Warfle's farm. The odds were stacked against this sickly but endearing pet. I held him in my hands, feeding him with a bottle and patting him until he burped. I was convinced if I did my best to nurture this little fellow, he'd make it to a ripe old age. He didn't. He stopped breathing while he was in my hands and I cried and cried. I did all I could to help him but he died anyway.

I don't live on a farm these days. Now, as a pastor, I try to nurture baby Christians. Every now and then, I see them stop breathing spiritual air and my heart breaks. Thankfully I've seen many spiritual infants grow into maturing saints.

When I read how Christ weepingly overlooked Jerusalem, I wonder if His heart breaks because He did all that He could but they just quit living. Sometimes your heart will be broken in the ministry.