Someone, maybe it was Andy Warhol, said that all of us get fifteen minutes of fame in our lives. I don't know, since I have every intention of living for quite a few more years, but I may have experienced my moment in the spotlight this Summer.
As a pastor I have been attending our National Association for about thirty years. I have not been able to go every year, but I have been to most of the meetings. During that time I have listened to a good number of sermons. That has been a real mixed bag. Honestly, some were among the best I have ever heard, many were average, and some were down right poor. I have often wondered what it would be like to be the guy preaching the sermon rather than just one of the preachers in the congregation critiquing it. Well, I finally found out this year in Ft. Worth Texas. I delivered the Sunday night message at our convention.
I got the call in January that I had been invited to speak. My first emotion was one excitement. I couldn't wait to tell my wife and several of my preacher buddies. I am not sure when exactly, but I began to think seriously about the message. I knew, however, that could be a problem. One of the things that I had observed over the years was that most of the guys who did not do all that well preaching at the National seemed over prepared. What that translated into was that if they normally had three pages of notes they would have six at the National! I determined not to let that happen to me. I dug out a lot of material, but I was very conscious of time and tried to be a good editor of the content of the message.
As the time drew closer I began to mentally go over the message. That led to a sort of building anxiety, a type of tension about doing as good a job as I am capable of. It was interesting how this changed as the date came closer. At first I wanted to preach an outstanding message, then I wanted it to be a good example of my style, and finally I just didn't want to fall flat on my face!
When the day finally arrived I was remarkably calm. I had thought I would be nervous, and I suppose in a sense I was, but it was an anxiety about getting the message across not about doing well, personally. I suppose this is what preachers mean when they speak of "delivering their soul" in a message.
I will leave it to others to determine if mine was a memorable of forgettable message. I do know that many people, both friends and total strangers, gave me what seemed like sincere compliments. I do believe it was a good representation of my style. My dear wife told me it wasn't the best she had ever heard me do, but it was good, and she was proud of me. One thing I had not anticipated was how relieved I would be after it was all over.
Looking back on it I'm glad that I had the opportunity. I am glad that I went through all the worry, prayer, preparation and the anxiety of the actual moment. It was an honor, and I was humbled by it, but there is a sense in which it all helped me see the value of preaching week in and week out at the church I have served for nearly twenty years. At the National I was one of scores of guys in that auditorium who could have gotten up and delivered a message, that is not true at my church. In fact, it is just the opposite.
So I had my fifteen minutes, and it was nice, but I am so glad I have had, and continue to have, much more time than that at the church I serve. I pray the Lord will give me many more opportunities to deliver my soul at Bethlehem.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Thursday, May 8, 2014
"Don't Go Breakin' My Heart"
In the interest of full disclosure I must say that the title for this entry is stolen from one of my all time favorite TV shows, Frazier. I suppose it would only be the most addicted fan of that series who would know the episode I am referring to, but it is the one where Niels is recovering from open heart surgery. Now Frazier is a comedy, but this episode is decidedly not funny. Essentially it deals with Niels' fear of his own death. Having open heart surgery will do that to you, it happened to me in 2005 and one of the things I still vividly remember was realizing my own mortality.
Now, I am a reasonably intelligent guy. I knew before I had the surgery that all of us are mortal and we, and that includes me, will one day face death. When my cardiologist told me I would be having heart by-pass my first thought was, "suppose everything goes wrong and I die? What will that do to my wife?" I began to think of how poor a provider I had been and while the church would certainly be gracious about it, she would probably be moving out of the parsonage within 60 days of my death. At the very time she would need stability, not just her husband but her home would be taken from her.
Well, I didn't die. Thank the good Lord, He brought me through the whole process with a minimum of pain and a new appreciation for friends and family. I think my understanding of people facing major surgery deepened and I was granted something of a new lease on life. So, why revisit all of this now? About two months ago I was playing golf with a friend when I suffered a "mild heart attack." This meant a trip to the local emergency room and then an ambulance ride to Nashville. I had a heart catherization and was told that one of my by-passes had completely shut down and another was 80% closed. A stint was successfully implanted, and currently I am doing well physically. I have had a couple of doctor visits since my hospital stay and it is why I am writing this today. It seems that I am part of minority of folks whose veins and arteries continue to close down regardless of how low my cholesterol level is. Now this is not a death sentence, but it is saying that short of some medical break through, I will continue to have heart issues. It is enough to make you want to buy stock in the companies that manufactures stints.
I suppose the upshot of all this has been to make me resolved to live fully and well today and to do what I can to have as many "todays" as possible. I want to serve God faithfully, love my family passionately, and be a friend to as many as possible. In 2005 my heart might have physically been in the hand of my surgeon, but in a more real sense it was in the hand of my God. It still is.
Now, I am a reasonably intelligent guy. I knew before I had the surgery that all of us are mortal and we, and that includes me, will one day face death. When my cardiologist told me I would be having heart by-pass my first thought was, "suppose everything goes wrong and I die? What will that do to my wife?" I began to think of how poor a provider I had been and while the church would certainly be gracious about it, she would probably be moving out of the parsonage within 60 days of my death. At the very time she would need stability, not just her husband but her home would be taken from her.
Well, I didn't die. Thank the good Lord, He brought me through the whole process with a minimum of pain and a new appreciation for friends and family. I think my understanding of people facing major surgery deepened and I was granted something of a new lease on life. So, why revisit all of this now? About two months ago I was playing golf with a friend when I suffered a "mild heart attack." This meant a trip to the local emergency room and then an ambulance ride to Nashville. I had a heart catherization and was told that one of my by-passes had completely shut down and another was 80% closed. A stint was successfully implanted, and currently I am doing well physically. I have had a couple of doctor visits since my hospital stay and it is why I am writing this today. It seems that I am part of minority of folks whose veins and arteries continue to close down regardless of how low my cholesterol level is. Now this is not a death sentence, but it is saying that short of some medical break through, I will continue to have heart issues. It is enough to make you want to buy stock in the companies that manufactures stints.
I suppose the upshot of all this has been to make me resolved to live fully and well today and to do what I can to have as many "todays" as possible. I want to serve God faithfully, love my family passionately, and be a friend to as many as possible. In 2005 my heart might have physically been in the hand of my surgeon, but in a more real sense it was in the hand of my God. It still is.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
The Sound Track
This past week I downloaded the sound track from the movie Gladiator. Some of you might be thinking, "didn't that movie come out in 2000?" Yes it did, I have the DVD of it as well, and I like it so much it became one of only three movies that I carry around on my iPad and my iPhone.
For those of you unfamiliar with the story, or with only a foggy recollections of it, let me give you the synopsis. A Roman general refuses to give his allegiance to the new Emperor and is promptly scheduled for execution. He fights his way out of this only to find himself a slave, sold into the cruel world of the arena where it is kill or be killed. If that were not enough drama, he ends up fighting in Rome before the very Emperor who had ordered his death and had successfully killed the former general's wife and son. The best line of the movie is when the general turned Gladiator has won a lopsided contest in the arena and the Emperor wants to meet him. Up to that point the Emperor has no idea it is his former general, due to the protective helmet he has worn through the contest. When asked for his name, he says it is simply "Gladiator" and turns to leave. This is an insult to the Emperor who orders him to remove his helmet and give his name. "My name is Maximus Decidus Meridius, commander of the armies of the north, general of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next." The question for the remainder of the movie is, will the Emperor succeed in killing the former general, or will the general, against seemingly impossible odds, have his vengeance?
Ok, so what possible relevance can a popular movie from more than a decade ago have to the life of a pastor today? Now, please don't assume that I have a blood lust for vengeance, like Maximus, or that I am a power mad egotist, like the Emperor. No, I just see this as one of the best presentations of an under dog succeeding I have ever encountered. I identify with the under dog. No, I don't have an Emperor who is scheming of ways to kill me, but I do have seemingly relentless problems that I have to fight with. I am not in an arena surrounded by cheering fans who are indifferent to my fate, but I have had the experience of pouring everything into a sermon only to have it greeted with a yawn. I have a good friend in the ministry who insists that "pastoring is a young man's calling, you just can't stand up to the emotional drain of it as you get older." He may be right, but I sure hope not, and that brings me back to the movie Gladiator.
It is when I don't think there is a way to win that I watch, think about, or listen to the sound track of Gladiator. You see the Gladiator was not really alone in his struggle. He had the friendship of his fellow gladiators as well as help in high places, from his owner to a member of the Senate, to the Emperor's sister. While it is not a major theme in this picture, the Gladiator is also a man of faith. He is shown praying more than once. As a pastor I may be an under dog, but I have friends, friends who are in the arena with me, who live where I live. Most importantly, I have a personal relationship with God, and believe me, I pray.
When the Gladiator lies dead in the sand of the arena, the Emperor's sister asks, "Is Rome worth one good man's life?" Perhaps so, perhaps not, but even if my struggle ends with me dead in the arena I already know the answer to the question, "Is the calling of God worth one good man's life?" Yes it has been, yes it is, and yes it always will be.
For those of you unfamiliar with the story, or with only a foggy recollections of it, let me give you the synopsis. A Roman general refuses to give his allegiance to the new Emperor and is promptly scheduled for execution. He fights his way out of this only to find himself a slave, sold into the cruel world of the arena where it is kill or be killed. If that were not enough drama, he ends up fighting in Rome before the very Emperor who had ordered his death and had successfully killed the former general's wife and son. The best line of the movie is when the general turned Gladiator has won a lopsided contest in the arena and the Emperor wants to meet him. Up to that point the Emperor has no idea it is his former general, due to the protective helmet he has worn through the contest. When asked for his name, he says it is simply "Gladiator" and turns to leave. This is an insult to the Emperor who orders him to remove his helmet and give his name. "My name is Maximus Decidus Meridius, commander of the armies of the north, general of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next." The question for the remainder of the movie is, will the Emperor succeed in killing the former general, or will the general, against seemingly impossible odds, have his vengeance?
Ok, so what possible relevance can a popular movie from more than a decade ago have to the life of a pastor today? Now, please don't assume that I have a blood lust for vengeance, like Maximus, or that I am a power mad egotist, like the Emperor. No, I just see this as one of the best presentations of an under dog succeeding I have ever encountered. I identify with the under dog. No, I don't have an Emperor who is scheming of ways to kill me, but I do have seemingly relentless problems that I have to fight with. I am not in an arena surrounded by cheering fans who are indifferent to my fate, but I have had the experience of pouring everything into a sermon only to have it greeted with a yawn. I have a good friend in the ministry who insists that "pastoring is a young man's calling, you just can't stand up to the emotional drain of it as you get older." He may be right, but I sure hope not, and that brings me back to the movie Gladiator.
It is when I don't think there is a way to win that I watch, think about, or listen to the sound track of Gladiator. You see the Gladiator was not really alone in his struggle. He had the friendship of his fellow gladiators as well as help in high places, from his owner to a member of the Senate, to the Emperor's sister. While it is not a major theme in this picture, the Gladiator is also a man of faith. He is shown praying more than once. As a pastor I may be an under dog, but I have friends, friends who are in the arena with me, who live where I live. Most importantly, I have a personal relationship with God, and believe me, I pray.
When the Gladiator lies dead in the sand of the arena, the Emperor's sister asks, "Is Rome worth one good man's life?" Perhaps so, perhaps not, but even if my struggle ends with me dead in the arena I already know the answer to the question, "Is the calling of God worth one good man's life?" Yes it has been, yes it is, and yes it always will be.
Monday, April 28, 2014
"I'm Begging You"
"I'm begging you." Those were the words from a man who wanted me to come be the pastor of his church. He went on to comment on how I was just what they needed and he seriously hoped that I would become his pastor. To make a long story short, I did. I'm not sure how long it was before I got an early morning call from him with the remark, "Don't take this personally, but my wife and I are going to be going to another church." Now, what had changed? Had I not turned out to be the pastor he thought I was? Was I not as productive as he had assumed I might be? Was it just that another church was more attractive? Who knows. In fact, some people who asked him at the time got all sorts of answers suggesting that he might not be all that clear himself.
I have been a pastor for more than 30 years now and I have served four churches. Those churches have been in four different states, in both the Midwest and the South. Those churches have varied in terms of the kind of people that made them up, from farmers, to blue collar industrial workers, to management and professionals. In all of those settings I have had people leave those churches and it has left me with some observations.
First, I may be wrong but I can't think of time a when someone got mad at me and left. That is both remarkable and a bit mystifying. Does it mean that I have not been confrontational enough? Does it mean that I value peace over personal or doctrinal purity? I don't know, but I honestly don't think so.
Second, I have heard that earlier phrase, "don't take this personally" way too many times. I know that people are just trying to be nice. They have decided to leave and don't want to just disappear. When it happens I am sure I get the "deer in the headlights" look. I have always tried to say, "I understand. I will pray for you. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please call." But their admonition to not take it personally, never has worked. Loosing someone, even a cantankerous soul, (and I have had some of those) always has an impact on me. I will be haunted for days, perhaps weeks, and in a few cases months with thoughts that begin, "what if I had..." The resolution to this is to stop thinking everything in the relationship can be changed by me. I can't control people. If I even tried I would no longer be a pastor, I would be a cult leader.
Finally, to recognize again who I am serving. Pastors work with people and it is easy to assume that we work for them. I have to admit that the urge to be a "people pleaser" is pretty strong in me. What's more, the denominational machine as well as the preacher brethren only seem to value numerical success. "How many are you running in Sunday School?" could replace "Hello" as a standard greeting. All of this can tempt a pastor to feel like a failure when people leave. I think the flaw in this is forgetting that pastors don't serve people, or even churches, they are first and foremost the servants of God. I know there is a danger with this sort of reasoning. Some might think that means they have no accountability to anyone except God. My feeling though is that most pastors won't fall into that trap. Our natural tendency is so much in the other direction.
A few years back I heard a conference speaker say, "People come and people go, it is an ecclesiastical fact of life." I assume this guy was trying to be comforting, but I personally hope I never get to the place that someone can leave the church and I simply don't care. Will it happen again? Well, short my untimely death, an abrupt career change, or the second coming of Jesus, yes it will. I just hope that when it does I can remind myself then of who I work for.
I have been a pastor for more than 30 years now and I have served four churches. Those churches have been in four different states, in both the Midwest and the South. Those churches have varied in terms of the kind of people that made them up, from farmers, to blue collar industrial workers, to management and professionals. In all of those settings I have had people leave those churches and it has left me with some observations.
First, I may be wrong but I can't think of time a when someone got mad at me and left. That is both remarkable and a bit mystifying. Does it mean that I have not been confrontational enough? Does it mean that I value peace over personal or doctrinal purity? I don't know, but I honestly don't think so.
Second, I have heard that earlier phrase, "don't take this personally" way too many times. I know that people are just trying to be nice. They have decided to leave and don't want to just disappear. When it happens I am sure I get the "deer in the headlights" look. I have always tried to say, "I understand. I will pray for you. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please call." But their admonition to not take it personally, never has worked. Loosing someone, even a cantankerous soul, (and I have had some of those) always has an impact on me. I will be haunted for days, perhaps weeks, and in a few cases months with thoughts that begin, "what if I had..." The resolution to this is to stop thinking everything in the relationship can be changed by me. I can't control people. If I even tried I would no longer be a pastor, I would be a cult leader.
Finally, to recognize again who I am serving. Pastors work with people and it is easy to assume that we work for them. I have to admit that the urge to be a "people pleaser" is pretty strong in me. What's more, the denominational machine as well as the preacher brethren only seem to value numerical success. "How many are you running in Sunday School?" could replace "Hello" as a standard greeting. All of this can tempt a pastor to feel like a failure when people leave. I think the flaw in this is forgetting that pastors don't serve people, or even churches, they are first and foremost the servants of God. I know there is a danger with this sort of reasoning. Some might think that means they have no accountability to anyone except God. My feeling though is that most pastors won't fall into that trap. Our natural tendency is so much in the other direction.
A few years back I heard a conference speaker say, "People come and people go, it is an ecclesiastical fact of life." I assume this guy was trying to be comforting, but I personally hope I never get to the place that someone can leave the church and I simply don't care. Will it happen again? Well, short my untimely death, an abrupt career change, or the second coming of Jesus, yes it will. I just hope that when it does I can remind myself then of who I work for.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
A Clean Basement
I might as well admit it, I am somewhat compulsive about my basement. I suppose at least three times per year I will go on a campaign to rearrange things, throw away things, and generally clean things. Usually this will take two full days and will end with a sense of satisfaction and my wife commenting, "that looks nice." It is a lot of work, but it generally has a subtle psychological effect upon me that makes it worth the effort. For some reason getting my basement all straightened up and in order helps me to reorder my life. I don't know why that is, but I know that it works that way.
Maybe it is because my basement, like my life, slowly gets disorganized and dusty and sometimes needs a thorough rearrangement. Perhaps it is because I sometimes rummage around for things in my basement, making a mess, and then retreat to use whatever I have found. I can see a parallel to the way that I sometimes hit things hard and then leave them. What's more, since I have such a large basement I have had times when people have asked if they could "store" things there. While I resist that generally I have gotten trapped into keeping everything from boxes to a boat, from furniture to flea market sales items. All of that, even when it is done for a friend, leaves me a bit anxious, wondering when I will have "my" basement back the way that I want it.
Ok, I know that all of this may have you wondering about my psychological state, but I assure you it is well within the "normal" range. If anything it is tending toward the positive right now since I have slowly been working on reorganizing and cleaning things over the last few days. Maybe you are thinking of the sign which reads, "A clean desk is a sign of a sick mind." Well, if that is true, what does a clean basement mean?
Maybe it is because my basement, like my life, slowly gets disorganized and dusty and sometimes needs a thorough rearrangement. Perhaps it is because I sometimes rummage around for things in my basement, making a mess, and then retreat to use whatever I have found. I can see a parallel to the way that I sometimes hit things hard and then leave them. What's more, since I have such a large basement I have had times when people have asked if they could "store" things there. While I resist that generally I have gotten trapped into keeping everything from boxes to a boat, from furniture to flea market sales items. All of that, even when it is done for a friend, leaves me a bit anxious, wondering when I will have "my" basement back the way that I want it.
Ok, I know that all of this may have you wondering about my psychological state, but I assure you it is well within the "normal" range. If anything it is tending toward the positive right now since I have slowly been working on reorganizing and cleaning things over the last few days. Maybe you are thinking of the sign which reads, "A clean desk is a sign of a sick mind." Well, if that is true, what does a clean basement mean?
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Training
Earlier this week I attended a software training seminar in Atlanta at Emory University. I was excited to be there, partly because I wanted to learn more about the Bible study software I am now using and because it would be a much needed break from my routine. Sad to say, I am a creature of habit and sometimes those habits become a rut. This would be a chance to step out of the rut.
Other than having a little bit of trouble negotiating the traffic, I arrived at Emory's Candler School of Theology in plenty of time. I knew that Candler was one of the training centers for the United Methodist Church, but I have to say I was not prepared for the size of it. My assumption was that it would be on the same scale as Vanderbilt Divinity, but it was both larger and was dominated by newer buildings.
Certainly as impressive as the place were the people at the seminar. I was one of about 40 and they were really a diverse group. What struck me were the number of guys who were at least my age and some a good bit older. I met one "pastor emeritus" who looked like he was in his eighties! I had to wonder if I would be attending a software seminar if I shared his demographics. I have to say I took some inspiration from that.
Finally, I got to know Accordance Bible Software better than I ever had before, and I have to say I was impressed. There are many things that you buy which seem to have great promise but then don't deliver nearly what you expect. Accordance is that rare product that actually has a lot more to offer than you realize.
As I drove home I thought I really had gotten out of my rut. I was glad for the day, now I just wished I could get out of rush hour Atlanta!
Other than having a little bit of trouble negotiating the traffic, I arrived at Emory's Candler School of Theology in plenty of time. I knew that Candler was one of the training centers for the United Methodist Church, but I have to say I was not prepared for the size of it. My assumption was that it would be on the same scale as Vanderbilt Divinity, but it was both larger and was dominated by newer buildings.
Certainly as impressive as the place were the people at the seminar. I was one of about 40 and they were really a diverse group. What struck me were the number of guys who were at least my age and some a good bit older. I met one "pastor emeritus" who looked like he was in his eighties! I had to wonder if I would be attending a software seminar if I shared his demographics. I have to say I took some inspiration from that.
Finally, I got to know Accordance Bible Software better than I ever had before, and I have to say I was impressed. There are many things that you buy which seem to have great promise but then don't deliver nearly what you expect. Accordance is that rare product that actually has a lot more to offer than you realize.
As I drove home I thought I really had gotten out of my rut. I was glad for the day, now I just wished I could get out of rush hour Atlanta!
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Losses
2014 is not off to that good of a start. I have already done two funerals for church members and have another two that seem to be not long for this world. After the second of those funerals, I looked back at my records and noted that I had 10 funerals in 2013, which is the most that I have had in any year of my ministry. I really don't want to be the preacher known for his funerals, but it seems like I may be headed there.
In two of the last three funerals I have done I was overcome by the emotion of the moment as I came down to the end of the funeral message. Now, some might think of that is pretty normal, but it is not for me. I usually have very good control of my emotions at a funeral service. I think of it as being the responsible way to respond to the situation. The family and friends may be all torn up by the emotion of things, but the pastor should maintain control and lead the family through this experience of grief. I realize that many will not agree with me on that, but it has been my thinking on the subject.
All that being said, I realized with these two funerals where I just "lost it" that it communicated something to those assembled. I probably received more compliments on those than on the previous years worth combined. I don't really think that I did that much better of a job as a preacher in those messages, but there was more of an evident emotional connection. I learned something important in that. One of my foundational beliefs about pastoral ministry is that the pastor must love the people. Now, you can't manufacture an emotional moment to express that love, I suppose all you can do is thank God for those moments when it comes through.
In two of the last three funerals I have done I was overcome by the emotion of the moment as I came down to the end of the funeral message. Now, some might think of that is pretty normal, but it is not for me. I usually have very good control of my emotions at a funeral service. I think of it as being the responsible way to respond to the situation. The family and friends may be all torn up by the emotion of things, but the pastor should maintain control and lead the family through this experience of grief. I realize that many will not agree with me on that, but it has been my thinking on the subject.
All that being said, I realized with these two funerals where I just "lost it" that it communicated something to those assembled. I probably received more compliments on those than on the previous years worth combined. I don't really think that I did that much better of a job as a preacher in those messages, but there was more of an evident emotional connection. I learned something important in that. One of my foundational beliefs about pastoral ministry is that the pastor must love the people. Now, you can't manufacture an emotional moment to express that love, I suppose all you can do is thank God for those moments when it comes through.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
