Spring is “Springing”

Here I sit in my home office with the windows up enjoying the beauty of the introduction of Spring and music begins to play.  No, not on the radio, nor my iPod.  But the birds outside the window.

Having lived out of “four season country” for ten years, this is music to my ears.  I begin to realize what I had missed living where it was always spring or summer.  (Of course, there are great advantages to that. But I won’t bore anyone with that in this blog!)  The birds are singing and communicating to one another.  What are they saying?  To whom are they calling?  I really do not care.  Sing on creature!

The grass is greening; even the weedy-type which is prominent in the yard of our rental house.  It beckons the roar of the lawn mower.  Irises are popping up through the ground, stretching their fresh leaves out toward the sun preparing to bloom.  The rose bushes are greening and reviving from the trim given to them in the fall.  Gosh!  Even the dandelions are pretty this year!

The trees are budding – Achoo!  We are having difficulty trying to identify the various varieties of which we are not familiar with.  This is a task that is almost outside the realm of a Google search!  The beloved dogwood trees’ buds are bursting.  Soon, as in this week, their beauty of white and pink will permeate the horizon and even the dense woods.

We have placed our hummingbird feeder out waiting for these creatures to come and quench their thirst.  The bumblebees by the thousands are gathering pollen from the wisteria and flowering trees around.

Like us, the neighbors have begun to venture outside their houses, crank up the mowers, raking out the flowerbeds, preparing garden beds, and generally sprucing up.  Spring is springing all around!

The beauty of spring is a reminder of life’s resurrection.  What appeared to be dead is coming back to life!  What was dormant was actually still alive.  Life is springing all around.  This inspires me to refresh and rejuvenate my own living of this life.  (Somebody say “exercise.” Doesn’t pushing the lawnmower count?)

I am also reminded of my spiritual journey.  What has been dormant that I need to restart?  What can I do to rejuvenate my walk with Christ?  Even the Psalmist King David prayed “Create in me a clean heart, O God. . .Restore to me the joy of your salvation.”

During this season of Lent we journey toward a time of celebrating the One who overcame death, was rejuvenated for our sake, in order that we might live again and again.

What a beautiful reminder of spring!  Hallelujah what a Savior!

DEATH IS A LOT LIKE DYING, ISN’T IT?

This week is like weeks many of us have from time to time:  one in which several funerals are on my calendar.  One is for a saint from the church I served many years ago.  She was the organist and I imagine she is now part of the heavenly orchestra.

Attending funerals is one exercise I tend to do when I move to a new place (I’ve only moved four times in 30 years!)  It gives to me a perspective of the varying nuances of each region of the country.  Even each church in a region may have acceptable (and not acceptable) practices for funerals.  As a minister these are good things to know before leading one.

 

On an episode of the TV comedy Will and Grace, Grace goes running to Will with the dilemma of facing death.  She tells him that she’s been thinking a lot about dying because she’s afraid “that one day it may happen to her.”

Well, Grace, I’ve got good news and bad news.  The bad news is you’re right, it will happen to you one day.  The good news is you’re not alone!  One hundred percent of us are guaranteed only one thing in life: death.  Life is full of choices and most eventually have an effect on how we die, and perhaps when we die.  One important choice or lack thereof, however, determines where we end up after we “walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.”

John Kramp, in his book Out of Their Faces and Into Their Shoes, reminds the reader that most of the evangelism methods we have learned are “based on the premise that people believed in God, worried about eternity, and lived lives filled with felt-needs.”  He goes on to say that there is a “futility of offering the answer to people who are not asking the question.”

I have been with people as one whom they loved passed on into eternity.  Many times I possessed a sense of assurance that where they now were was where all Christians aspire to be when it happens to them.  Sadly, though, I’ve been there with those who have had little to no faith journey, or I did not know them prior to the event to have foreknowledge.

 

In that episode of Will and Grace, Grace was concerned that Will, a well-to-do lawyer, had only left her a measly $1,400 in his will.  She was working on her will and wanted to leave him something, but didn’t want to do too much.  She was upset that Will was only going to leave her a small amount.  The argument waned when Will told her that was all he had fifteen years ago when he wrote the will; he had not thought about it since then.

Will is no different than any of us.  We try not to think of our own death—a very distant, future event.  Yet, like this friend of mine from long ago, death could come to any of us today.  More important than preparing for the disbursement of one’s estate (as important as that is!), is one’s preparation for life after death.  It is appointed unto everyone once to die, and then the judgment.  But, all who have placed their faith, trust and hope in Jesus Christ shall receive their heavenly reward, because He took upon Himself the judgment for our sins.

For the most part we cannot determine when or how we shall die.  But we each must decide where we will go when that moment comes.

People Watching

I have heard people say many times, “I love to go to the Mall just to watch people.”  Of course, this is a fun activity just about anywhere you go.  Since I have been in a lot of airports recently, I tend to do my observing there.

Recently I had a rather lengthy layover in the airport in Nassau, The Bahamas.  NO, I was not there on vacation!  My first flight from Treasure Key, Abaco had gotten me up very early—before sunrise.  In this little airport on this somewhat remote island in the northeastern part of The Bahamas, I literally helped open up the airport.  Soon a few more passengers-to-be arrived as did a few of the employees.  Eventually the plane arrived and a well-dressed Bahamian National Police officer went to greet the plane.  Off stepped one casually dressed Bahamian man wearing a ball cap, smiling and speaking to everyone as he walked by them.  Except for me of course.  I figured it was obvious I was not a registered voter and he passed me by.  But, I didn’t jump up to shake his hand either.

As I was exiting to board the plane I asked the gate attendant who the gentleman was.  Well, she looked at me disgustedly and said, “That is the Prime Minister.”  Holy cow!  I had ignored a world leader!

After arriving in Nassau I quickly sought after my morning dose of caffeine and a breakfast sandwich.  I watched as others passed through the shops and food court.  Some were also looking for their morning meal.  Soon I spotted one young couple which appeared to be ending their tropical vacation.  What caught my eye was the amount of flesh that he had not tattooed.  Well, I sized them up immediately and began to conjure up my humble analysis of them.

Then, the strangest thing happened.  He brought their food back to where she had sat; he sat across from her, they clasped hands and prayed!  They said grace; they had the blessing; they thanked God for the provisions they were to partake.  Great!  All of the negative thoughts I had assigned to them due to his appearance fooled me.  These two were sincere followers of God and were acknowledging His provision for their sustenance.

I was thankful that they could not hear my internal thoughts judging them by their outward appearance.  I had to seek forgiveness from the same One to whom they prayed. 

Wasn’t this pretty typical, though?  We tend to “judge a book by its cover,” not really caring about the true content of one’s worth in the sight of God.  For me, this was just another time in which God reminded me that beyond my short, chubby appearance, it is who I am in Him that matters.  My prayer needs to be over and over again, “LORD, give my eyes to see others as You see them.”

"...But the Greatest of these is Love."

On this day set aside each year to pad the coffers of greeting card companies, chocolate manufacturers and Jewelry stores, I can’t help but follow the trend to express to my Valentine my love and affection for her.  For almost thirty years now she has been my constant companion, true friend, and mate.

I recall the first time my eyes saw her.  I believe the words which went through my mind were the same which Adam first uttered when God presented Eve to him: “Hubba Hubba!”  (Seriously, it’s that way in the original manuscripts!) I know, not very romantic, but truly sincere.  Long before Cupid drew back his bow, God had planned for her and me to meet then and there.

Let me give to you a little background information.  Susie was born to Bill and Ora Parr in Fort Worth, Texas in 19__ (what?  You think I’m stupid!).  These two Alabamans were living there because Bill had taken a job after graduating from Devry Institute in Chicago.  They were very faithful and active members of Rosen Heights Baptist Church where Dr. R. Earl Allen was pastor.  After Susie’s birth in September her parents dedicated her to the LORD in a special Parent/Child dedication service at church.  Dr. Allen held this little precious newborn girl in his arms and prayed for her and her parents.  Soon after that Bill and Ora moved back to their home state of Alabama to raise their family in Huntsville.

Fast-forward to 1980 when Susie graduated from college and headed to Fort Worth to continue her education and follow her Calling to ministry.  Her parents and friends at Rosen Heights Baptist Church had remained close over the years and when they heard Susie was coming their way, they let it be known that they needed a pianist.  Dr. Allen was still pastor and was delighted that this now young woman would serve the Lord in the church in which her calling had begun.

In 1981 as a struggling seminary student myself, I needed additional income in order to buy groceries.  I learned of a “job made for a seminary student” at a church on the north side of Cowtown.  I got the job as night custodian at Rosen Heights Baptist Church and began on June 3, 1981, the night referenced above (“Hubba! Hubba!”).

Little did Susie Parr or I know that the Lord had a plan for each of us—together.  From Alabama and Virginia God brought our very different paths together at the same church under the same pastor that held her many years earlier and with her parents dedicated her to the Lord.  Thus began a journey of love that has taken us from Texas to Georgia, Virginia, Florida and back to Georgia again; has blessed us with two sons who love and serve the Lord; countless friends and colleagues in churches and ministry settings we would have never dreamed of; and a wonderful extended family that has blessed us all these years.

There is no doubt in my mind that when Holy Scripture was penned, canonized and provided for all to read, that love was and is its ultimate theme.  Yes, love for God; love instead of hate for one another; and His unfailing love for us.  The model of love that should dictate all of our thoughts and actions.  Yes, there is faith and hope; but the greatest of these is love. (I Corinthians 13:13)

Happy Valentine’s Day, my Love!

Arrived Safely

“Arrived Safely…”  This was the message that I was able to send to my wife and family that I had arrived at my destination safely.  My destination?  Mount Hope in Abaco, The Bahamas.  I am here for the week to teach “Leadership” in the Bahamas Bible Institute, a seven years partnership between CBF of Florida and CBF of The Bahamas. (Yea, I know, “tough assignment.”  But, somebody’s gotta do it!)

The rest of my message, however, expressed some “trying times” ahead: “…luggage has not.”  Only one other time in my seven years of extensive travel around the Caribbean for Fellowship Baptists has my luggage taken a different trip than me.  The last time I went to San Juan, Puerto Rico (SJU) and three days later my suitcase caught up with me after going to San Jose, Costa Rica (SJO).  Unfortunately, I was not awarded its frequent flier miles nor reimbursed for expenses I incurred to have clothes presentable for the Baptist meetings I attended.

I take for granted the pleasures of daily rituals that were going to be a challenge without certain items not in my possession.  Toothbrush? No. Medicines? No. Clean clothes? Uh-uh.  I wasn’t too stressed at the moment.  I was (almost) confident that I would once again be reunited with my things.  I did have with me my notes and items for the four nights of teaching.  I had spent the better part of two weeks reading, studying and preparing and I was not going to part with them.  However I wasn’t encouraged by the airline agent who looked at my claim check and declared it was not theirs.  What?  Wait!  It was YOUR airline agent in Orlando who put the matching tag on my bag!

My host, Rev. John McIntosh, is well-known throughout the Abaco Island.  He made a quick call to Marsh Harbor, the next stop for the island-hopper which left me at Treasure Key, and the search began.  It wasn’t there or on my plane.  It had been left in Nassau and would be on the next plane over…tomorrow!  The good news arrived the following day and my body was soon refreshed with its contents.

Isn’t this typical of how we go about life?  We entrust our worldly possessions to complete strangers in hopes that promises will be fulfilled.  And most of the time we are not disappointed.  However, we tend to do similar with our spiritual lives—entrust it to others to get ‘r done for us: preachers, teachers, deacons, leaders in the church.  But if I am to be a follower of Christ, I need to keep those precious items close and in my own possession, opening up only to the One who gave all and desires my daily contact.  My growth in spiritual matters is no one’s responsibility or fault but my own.

Prayer: Loving and gracious God, thank you for loving me, in spite of me and for bringing me back to You, when I entrust my relationship with You to someone else.

(Almost) Daily Trek

For the past seven years I have been “traveling” somewhere.  Many days, one would find me on Interstate 4 between Orlando (where I lived) and Lakeland, Florida (where my office was) a distance of 58.3 miles one-way, but who’s counting?  Many friends and family often asked me about my “commute.”  The answer I usually gave was “it was my spiritual journey!”

Most of the time, I found it was a good time to “listen.”  I usually listened to “talk radio” getting caught up on the news of the day and the hundreds, yea even thousands of opinions that went along with it.  Easy listening and Christian music radio was another standard.  All of these, of course, gave regular traffic reports which aided me in decisions of the route to take.

When radio didn’t suffice, or I couldn’t find what I liked, I popped in a CD (yes, I had not commandeered the iPod shuffle!)  Sometimes a book on CD was a great way to brag that I’d “read” a good book recently.  Whatever the medium, I listened.

Some of what I “heard” went in one ear and out the other.  Every once in a while, something goes in and camps out on a brain cell and I have one of those “a-ha moments.”

One morning I found myself maneuvering the “Nascar” style traffic heading west on I-4.  You know the type I’m referring to:  65+ mph, lots of cars and trucks bunched together, and everyone “jockeying” for position.  Right around Walt Disney World you lose one west-bound lane.  I know it is there; I’ve handled it hundreds of times; I’m preparing for it.  Then all of a sudden a Dodge Ram green pickup truck flashed up from the rear at a speed which made me appear to be sitting still.  He swerved around me and glares at me like it was my fault that he did not have clearance for take-off!

Well, I did what many do—I gave him a “holy honk” of the car horn.  Racing through my mind were thoughts of anger, disgust, ridicule and judgment.  Just prior to this I had popped a CD into the player by a male trio of Southern Gospel music that I was introduced to some years earlier.  I love their music, style and presentation.  It is classy Southern Gospel.  Usually one would pass me and observe me singing at the top of my lungs with them as their “fourth” singer to make it a “real quartet.”

Wouldn’t you know that God sent a message to me to “hear” in that particular moment?  The group and I were singing “I’m happy with you Lord; I hope you’re happy with me.”  Oh, boy!  I got the message!  In that moment, I did not portray one with whom the Lord of Heaven and Earth could be happy with.  I had not given a “good witness” to that other driver.  Rather than voice a prayer of thanksgiving for His protection upon me and the Dodge Ram driver, I had feelings of anger that the other driver felt entitled to the piece of asphalt that I was occupying.

Oh, Lord. Forgive me for not listening as intently as I should during my Daily Treks.  Thank you for protecting idiot drivers like me!

"Thank God you're an American!"

Last week I went to Islands of Adventure/Universal Studios Orlando with my son Ragan.  (He was in early for a conference and I was finishing up a week of my work there.)  We purchased our (entirely too-expensive!) admission tickets and proceeded to the entrance.  Not really cognizant of the folks ahead of us, it did seem it was taking a while for them to maneuver through the turnstiles. 

As it became our turn to scan our ticket and our finger-print (where does that information go?!), the gate attendant exclaimed “Oh, thank God you’re an American.  I can understand you.”  Ragan and I both chuckled at this as we passed through, not because of any ill feelings toward the world’s visitors ahead of us, but because of the one who had made the statement.  She was a very pleasant southern-Asian woman with a definitive accent!

She, too, at one time had ventured from her homeland to “the land of promise” and found a home here.  At some point, I assume, she too had difficulty with the language.  But, here she was now recognizing that verbal communication is limited when one doesn’t know the language.

This moment in my journey last week allowed me to pause and reflect on how I am no different than she or the park attendees entering ahead of us that day.  We all are strangers in a distant land at times.  Orlando is a city in which the whole world converges.  Anywhere you walk you will hear languages other than English being spoken.  Yet, there we were all together to enjoy the same things: fantasy, thrills, Harry Potter World, roller coasters!  With just a quick observation of those around, one notices that folks were from all walks of life.  No one’s status, language or religious affiliation awarded them special privileges.  We ALL had to walk through the maze of queue lines to “enjoy” those 47.6 seconds of “thrill.”

My God doesn’t look upon my or anyone else’s status, color of skin, nationality, political affiliation or language spoken to determine whether we can enter His Kingdom.  We all enter the same way:  trusting and believing. And I would add what the entirety of Scripture says, live like you do.  So, isn’t it great that God will not say, “Thank Me, you’re an American; come on in”?