In worship this coming Sunday morning, Aug 9, I will be instructing people in the Methodist decision making process called "The Wesleyan Quadrilateral." As a part of that decision making process individuals are asked to determine what "tradition" says about the issue they are facing. I have determined that most local church folks don't have an easy way to access information concerning what the church has always taught.
Therefore I am going to attempt to use this blog as a resource for helping those who are attempting to make Godly decisions by answering to the best of my ability any questions that are posed with regard to the Church's historical position on an issue.
To access this process you simply log in and comment with your question. I will then post an answer as soon as possible.
My hope and prayer is that God will help us in this to begin to make better and more Godly decisions.
We will see how it works!!!!
God's best,
Bill
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
A Response to the President
I read of the President's address to the graduating class of Notre Dame University and found some of his words hopeful. I agree completely with him that it is highly unlikely, save a direct miracle from God, that we will see the extremist from each end of the political spectrum ever agree on the issue of abortion. I agree that this means those who are not on those extremes must be the ones to carry on the discussion. Since in my experience no one ever believes they are on the extreme on any position, everyone naturally believing they are rational, I will attempt to start the conversation.
Let me begin by saying that as a minister I have been in situations where I have counseled for and against abortion as an option. I suspect I will be in both positions again. In neither situation have I been comfortable, nor assured I was making the correct recommendation. I have prayed a lot.
What I have found is that until we begin to use language correctly and precisely it is impossible to even discuss options when confronted with this life and death issue. Yes, I said "life and death" issue. What I have found is an amazing ability to use language to avoid speaking the truth when we begin to discuss abortion.
I often find people who come into my office and must choose whether or not abortion is an option they should consider and yet they are unwilling to confront the truth of their choice. They want to talk about what to do with the "fetus" or their "right to choose" instead of clearly understanding that what we are discussing is whether or not it is proper in this situation to end a life. The truth that we all must face if rational people are to come to some satisfying agreement on the abortion issue is that left to its natural progression a fertilized egg will develop into a fully formed human being and be born. Interupting this process ends the possibility of life. When we talk about abortion we need to be clear we are talking about ending a life.
I happen to believe that the teachings of the Holy Scripture and of the Church through the ages recognize that their may be times when it is permissible, perhaps even desirable, for people of faith to determine that ending a life may be appropriate. The commandment I understand to read, "You shall not take life unjustly" or "You shall not commit murder." This clearly means that there may be times when it is permissible to take life justly.
I also believe that the teachings of Scripture and the Church clearly indicate that life is sacred. Life is a gift from God, breathed into our fundamental elements. All life must be respected, even revered.
When I talk with a person considering an abortion this is my starting point. We agree that we are talking about ending a life. We agree that all life is sacred. Then we talk about what possible reasons we might have to "justify" a decision to end that life.
At that point we have some guidance from our history and from our traditions. We all know that self-defense has been viewed by society as a reasonable excuse for taking the life of another. This has been translated in abortion to the idea that if the pregnancy threatens the life of the mother (here we are open to discuss what "threatens" might mean) then it may be permissible to end the life of the infant.
We also know that in cases where a person threatens to endanger the lives of others it may be permissible to end that person's life. A case where a man with a gun is pointing it at another person gives the police the right to use deadly force. If it can be shown that the pregnancy is a severe threat to others (I don't have a clear case in mind, perhaps embroinic testing reveals the child to be a carrier of a deadly contagious disease) then it may be permissible to end the life of the infant.
What I am saying in this is that the same reasoning we use to determine the use of deadly force in a life that has been born should be used to determine whether or not the use of deadly force through abortion should be considered. Life is sacred. To take a life requires some justification other than "he was bothering me so I shot him." That reasoning won't work in life outside the womb, it should not be allowed on life inside the womb.
In cases where it is determined that there may be just cause for ending a life, inside the womb or outside, society should always do so with a mourning and repentant heart. In the cases where I have counseled for abortion I have always required that before taking the action we go to God in Holy Communion and ask for God to understand and forgive our choice. Then again after the action we return to the Communion table to once again share our value of life and ask God for our forgiveness in taking it.
On the one occasion where I had to assist a family who had lost a loved one to murder and then had to watch as the person convicted of the crime received the death penalty I recommended exactly the same proceedure. We take life only with a saddened heart and seeking forgiveness from God.
My hope and prayer is that through his speech at Notre Dame the President will indeed open the doors for all in our society to truly and honestly discuss the crisis of abortion. I want to do my part.
Of course the real issue behind abortion is the burning question, "Why in this day and age with all the prevention available are so many women getting pregnant who do not wish to give birth?" But that is for another time.
God's best,
Bill
Let me begin by saying that as a minister I have been in situations where I have counseled for and against abortion as an option. I suspect I will be in both positions again. In neither situation have I been comfortable, nor assured I was making the correct recommendation. I have prayed a lot.
What I have found is that until we begin to use language correctly and precisely it is impossible to even discuss options when confronted with this life and death issue. Yes, I said "life and death" issue. What I have found is an amazing ability to use language to avoid speaking the truth when we begin to discuss abortion.
I often find people who come into my office and must choose whether or not abortion is an option they should consider and yet they are unwilling to confront the truth of their choice. They want to talk about what to do with the "fetus" or their "right to choose" instead of clearly understanding that what we are discussing is whether or not it is proper in this situation to end a life. The truth that we all must face if rational people are to come to some satisfying agreement on the abortion issue is that left to its natural progression a fertilized egg will develop into a fully formed human being and be born. Interupting this process ends the possibility of life. When we talk about abortion we need to be clear we are talking about ending a life.
I happen to believe that the teachings of the Holy Scripture and of the Church through the ages recognize that their may be times when it is permissible, perhaps even desirable, for people of faith to determine that ending a life may be appropriate. The commandment I understand to read, "You shall not take life unjustly" or "You shall not commit murder." This clearly means that there may be times when it is permissible to take life justly.
I also believe that the teachings of Scripture and the Church clearly indicate that life is sacred. Life is a gift from God, breathed into our fundamental elements. All life must be respected, even revered.
When I talk with a person considering an abortion this is my starting point. We agree that we are talking about ending a life. We agree that all life is sacred. Then we talk about what possible reasons we might have to "justify" a decision to end that life.
At that point we have some guidance from our history and from our traditions. We all know that self-defense has been viewed by society as a reasonable excuse for taking the life of another. This has been translated in abortion to the idea that if the pregnancy threatens the life of the mother (here we are open to discuss what "threatens" might mean) then it may be permissible to end the life of the infant.
We also know that in cases where a person threatens to endanger the lives of others it may be permissible to end that person's life. A case where a man with a gun is pointing it at another person gives the police the right to use deadly force. If it can be shown that the pregnancy is a severe threat to others (I don't have a clear case in mind, perhaps embroinic testing reveals the child to be a carrier of a deadly contagious disease) then it may be permissible to end the life of the infant.
What I am saying in this is that the same reasoning we use to determine the use of deadly force in a life that has been born should be used to determine whether or not the use of deadly force through abortion should be considered. Life is sacred. To take a life requires some justification other than "he was bothering me so I shot him." That reasoning won't work in life outside the womb, it should not be allowed on life inside the womb.
In cases where it is determined that there may be just cause for ending a life, inside the womb or outside, society should always do so with a mourning and repentant heart. In the cases where I have counseled for abortion I have always required that before taking the action we go to God in Holy Communion and ask for God to understand and forgive our choice. Then again after the action we return to the Communion table to once again share our value of life and ask God for our forgiveness in taking it.
On the one occasion where I had to assist a family who had lost a loved one to murder and then had to watch as the person convicted of the crime received the death penalty I recommended exactly the same proceedure. We take life only with a saddened heart and seeking forgiveness from God.
My hope and prayer is that through his speech at Notre Dame the President will indeed open the doors for all in our society to truly and honestly discuss the crisis of abortion. I want to do my part.
Of course the real issue behind abortion is the burning question, "Why in this day and age with all the prevention available are so many women getting pregnant who do not wish to give birth?" But that is for another time.
God's best,
Bill
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Anti-Depressant
Often people tell me that they cannot believe the things that I remember, and because I remember, write about them. If you don't know what they mean, check out my previous post about being a third grader mimicing the behavior of the older boys. My answer is always that I see such memories as a gift from God. For some reason or other I am able to reach back and recall insignificant events from my life and then use them to do one of the things that brings great joy to my life, put words on paper.
Of course, these memories are tempered by the fact that I have watched my children grow and revise their histories. Events that Brenda and I recall quite clearly are often distorted beyond recognition in the memories our children carry. I am quite certain my memories are no different, they are recollections totally shaped by who and what I am today. I make no claim to my memories being perfect or even very accurate. They are simply my memories.
However in that process I suspect there is a God given blessing working as an anti-depressant. I choose the memories that I will allow to shape my life today and bring joy to me and manage to not focus on those that are harmful and bring pain. In my talks and visits with people who struggle with the darkness of depression they seem to be unable to be so selective. Perhaps that is even the core of their illness. Often in fact, they do exactly the reverse, focusing only on the things in their past that are hurtful and drag them down.
I began to think about all this over the weekend as I prepared for our worship service. Part of that process involved watching a video of an interview with a member I had conducted. I was shocked to see the spitting image of my father staring back at me from the screen! I must admit that image was not pleasant for me. Not that I am not proud of my Dad and all his accomplishments, but I had never realized so potently how much I look like him.
Pondering that resemblence, I suddenly discovered that I could not say with any certainty whether he died on March 9th or 10th. A major event in my life and there was no way I could be certain of the right date. I began to wonder what is wrong with me. (don't worry the correct date came to me soon enough.)
Why can I remember what it felt like to make a speech in class in the 10th grade and not remember the date my father died?
I think part of that answer may be that the speech in the 10th grade was the first time I experienced the joy of standing in front of people and seeing them react to words I was speaking. A joy that has stayed with me all my life, whether in the classroom teaching or on the stage preaching. My father's death, on the other hand, really has not shaped my life in any significant way. My Dad's life had an enormous impact on my me and shapes me still today, but his death merely brought some days of darkness that God blessed me with the strength to endure.
You see, I am blessed to be able to choose to remember the events that have positively shaped my life and shuffle aside other more painful ones.
I know that I will never escape the horror of the day that Tara died, but that day is not how I remember her. I clearly and quickly call up images of the race through the night from my parents home in Pine Bluff to Arkadelphia and the hospital on the day she was born. I laugh at how terrified Brenda was that something was wrong with Tara because she was so doped up following the birth that she couldn't see Tara until the next day. I see a basketball goal and instantly am transported back to the precious hours spent at the gym or on the outside court at church rebounding the ball for her. I never forget the emotion of the longest walk on earth for any father, the trek down the aisle in the church to give her away in marriage.
All of those, and many many more, are joyful memories that still tug at my heart. I thank God that for some reason they are the memories that haunt me, instead of the the painful ones of her loss.
For some reason, when I begin to feel blue and darkness closes in on me, I am able to look inside my memories and find some minor event and write about it. In the process I experience that same joy I found in speech class. I write and know that somewhere, someone will read and share a piece of my life and be moved, to laughter or to tears, it really doesn't matter which. In that process the sun breaks through the darkness and my spirit is revived.
I invite you today to look at your memories, but look selectively. If what you recall is painful, put it aside and search for other places in the recesses of that wonderful organ we call the brain and find joy. I promise you it is there. Often we have just gotten so comfortable with the darkness we are afraid to let the sun in. Ask God today to bless you with joyful rememberances.
Now how is that for a justification for how wierd I am with my selective memory??? Sometimes I even amaze myself.
God's best,
Bill
Of course, these memories are tempered by the fact that I have watched my children grow and revise their histories. Events that Brenda and I recall quite clearly are often distorted beyond recognition in the memories our children carry. I am quite certain my memories are no different, they are recollections totally shaped by who and what I am today. I make no claim to my memories being perfect or even very accurate. They are simply my memories.
However in that process I suspect there is a God given blessing working as an anti-depressant. I choose the memories that I will allow to shape my life today and bring joy to me and manage to not focus on those that are harmful and bring pain. In my talks and visits with people who struggle with the darkness of depression they seem to be unable to be so selective. Perhaps that is even the core of their illness. Often in fact, they do exactly the reverse, focusing only on the things in their past that are hurtful and drag them down.
I began to think about all this over the weekend as I prepared for our worship service. Part of that process involved watching a video of an interview with a member I had conducted. I was shocked to see the spitting image of my father staring back at me from the screen! I must admit that image was not pleasant for me. Not that I am not proud of my Dad and all his accomplishments, but I had never realized so potently how much I look like him.
Pondering that resemblence, I suddenly discovered that I could not say with any certainty whether he died on March 9th or 10th. A major event in my life and there was no way I could be certain of the right date. I began to wonder what is wrong with me. (don't worry the correct date came to me soon enough.)
Why can I remember what it felt like to make a speech in class in the 10th grade and not remember the date my father died?
I think part of that answer may be that the speech in the 10th grade was the first time I experienced the joy of standing in front of people and seeing them react to words I was speaking. A joy that has stayed with me all my life, whether in the classroom teaching or on the stage preaching. My father's death, on the other hand, really has not shaped my life in any significant way. My Dad's life had an enormous impact on my me and shapes me still today, but his death merely brought some days of darkness that God blessed me with the strength to endure.
You see, I am blessed to be able to choose to remember the events that have positively shaped my life and shuffle aside other more painful ones.
I know that I will never escape the horror of the day that Tara died, but that day is not how I remember her. I clearly and quickly call up images of the race through the night from my parents home in Pine Bluff to Arkadelphia and the hospital on the day she was born. I laugh at how terrified Brenda was that something was wrong with Tara because she was so doped up following the birth that she couldn't see Tara until the next day. I see a basketball goal and instantly am transported back to the precious hours spent at the gym or on the outside court at church rebounding the ball for her. I never forget the emotion of the longest walk on earth for any father, the trek down the aisle in the church to give her away in marriage.
All of those, and many many more, are joyful memories that still tug at my heart. I thank God that for some reason they are the memories that haunt me, instead of the the painful ones of her loss.
For some reason, when I begin to feel blue and darkness closes in on me, I am able to look inside my memories and find some minor event and write about it. In the process I experience that same joy I found in speech class. I write and know that somewhere, someone will read and share a piece of my life and be moved, to laughter or to tears, it really doesn't matter which. In that process the sun breaks through the darkness and my spirit is revived.
I invite you today to look at your memories, but look selectively. If what you recall is painful, put it aside and search for other places in the recesses of that wonderful organ we call the brain and find joy. I promise you it is there. Often we have just gotten so comfortable with the darkness we are afraid to let the sun in. Ask God today to bless you with joyful rememberances.
Now how is that for a justification for how wierd I am with my selective memory??? Sometimes I even amaze myself.
God's best,
Bill
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Gotta Know What the Big Boys are Doing
I have a memory burned into the front of my brain that keeps coming out in my presleep dreams of when I was in the third grade at Drew Central Elementary. The picture I keep reviewing is of me (along with all the other boys in my class) standing with our noses stuck through the chicken wire fence that separated the 4th through 6th grade playground from our own. When the bell for recess or lunch would ring, we would all dash to the fence to see what the big boys were doing. Without fail, we copied whatever they were doing, usually with more gusto and energy than they could ever muster.
You see, third grade boys have no idea that they can control their own time and destiny. They must always look to the older boys for guidance. Then it is programmed into their brains that they must do whatever the big boys are doing better. Most are like me and can't wait to be on the other side of the fence.
I still have a knot on the side of my head to remind me of those days. One morning the trendsetters on the other side of the fence were playing dodge ball. So naturally we had to do the same thing. The only problem was that we didn't have a red rubber playground ball. Someone (thankfully it was not me) had the great idea that a baseball would work lots better. Our hands were smaller and we could throw a baseball a lot better! In the mind of the third graders this made perfect sense, so off we went. I was standing near the basketball goal, using the pole as a kind of shield and keeping my eye on the boy with the ball. I heard a noise and turned to look just in time to see clearly the stitches of another baseball inches from my head! When I woke up, amid teachers and nurses and blood, I asked what had happened. It seemed that the big boys had added an extra ball to their game and so naturally had we. The word of the new ball in the game arrived as it slammed against my head.
I've thought about that memory a good bit these past few weeks as I have watched our economy bounce up and down. I've talked with some friends who actually have money to invest and have been amazed to see them behaving exactly like my third grade friends. They stand in front of the television, with their choice of poison being displayed (CNN, FOX, MSNBC) and try to figure out what the "big boys" are doing. "Is the government going to bail this industry out?" "Is Obama going to do this or that?" They seem to believe that they must know what the big boys are going to do before they can act. Isn't it amazing that in many ways we never out grow the third grade!
Watching them has made the knot on my head ache! Because I know for an absolute certainty that such behavior leads to receiving a baseball between the eyes. Depending on others to set the course of your life always brings pain.
I wonder when we are going to cross that fence and become the big boys who are capable of making decisions on our own? I wonder why we all fall back to our third grade insecurity whenever times get tough? I wonder.
Let me dare to share some insight for your consideration. There is only one "big boy" that you need to be concerned about when you start making life decisions and you won't find him on CNN or other networks. Rarely will you ever make a bad decision if you take time to consider what God is doing and what God would want you to do in any given situation.
Instead of joining the crowd with your nose stuck through the fence to watch those you consider to be important, take time to stick it into the Bible and into prayer and meditation. I promise the guidance and insight you obtain will be of much greater value and almost always following it will result in less pain in your life.
Dream about it.
God's best,
Bill
You see, third grade boys have no idea that they can control their own time and destiny. They must always look to the older boys for guidance. Then it is programmed into their brains that they must do whatever the big boys are doing better. Most are like me and can't wait to be on the other side of the fence.
I still have a knot on the side of my head to remind me of those days. One morning the trendsetters on the other side of the fence were playing dodge ball. So naturally we had to do the same thing. The only problem was that we didn't have a red rubber playground ball. Someone (thankfully it was not me) had the great idea that a baseball would work lots better. Our hands were smaller and we could throw a baseball a lot better! In the mind of the third graders this made perfect sense, so off we went. I was standing near the basketball goal, using the pole as a kind of shield and keeping my eye on the boy with the ball. I heard a noise and turned to look just in time to see clearly the stitches of another baseball inches from my head! When I woke up, amid teachers and nurses and blood, I asked what had happened. It seemed that the big boys had added an extra ball to their game and so naturally had we. The word of the new ball in the game arrived as it slammed against my head.
I've thought about that memory a good bit these past few weeks as I have watched our economy bounce up and down. I've talked with some friends who actually have money to invest and have been amazed to see them behaving exactly like my third grade friends. They stand in front of the television, with their choice of poison being displayed (CNN, FOX, MSNBC) and try to figure out what the "big boys" are doing. "Is the government going to bail this industry out?" "Is Obama going to do this or that?" They seem to believe that they must know what the big boys are going to do before they can act. Isn't it amazing that in many ways we never out grow the third grade!
Watching them has made the knot on my head ache! Because I know for an absolute certainty that such behavior leads to receiving a baseball between the eyes. Depending on others to set the course of your life always brings pain.
I wonder when we are going to cross that fence and become the big boys who are capable of making decisions on our own? I wonder why we all fall back to our third grade insecurity whenever times get tough? I wonder.
Let me dare to share some insight for your consideration. There is only one "big boy" that you need to be concerned about when you start making life decisions and you won't find him on CNN or other networks. Rarely will you ever make a bad decision if you take time to consider what God is doing and what God would want you to do in any given situation.
Instead of joining the crowd with your nose stuck through the fence to watch those you consider to be important, take time to stick it into the Bible and into prayer and meditation. I promise the guidance and insight you obtain will be of much greater value and almost always following it will result in less pain in your life.
Dream about it.
God's best,
Bill
Friday, January 9, 2009
The Barbed Wire Bird
Every year I am blessed to be invited to hunt quail and pheasant with friends in Kansas. For over fifteen years I have spent a week in the fields near Abbeyville and eating at Carolyn's Esterhaus in Arlington. Family members say that I really only use the hunting as an excuse to go and eat in that wonderful Amish restaurant. I suspect they are on to something.
Over the years I have had many wonderful experiences in the fields around Abbeyville and Arlington. But probably none have been as amazing as this year.
On the first morning in the first field we hunted we had one of those once every ten years hunt. Every few yards we found birds and more birds. The dogs had some great points and it was one of those magical mornings that keep us all coming back.
We reached the far back corner of the field and gathered to collect ourselves before starting down the other side. I was standing with two friends near an old fence line laughing and talking about points and shots when I noticed that there was a large coil of old barbed wire leaning against a post (one of those limestone posts that mark a lot of the territory there). Suddenly the ground near me began to shake. There was a loud rustling noise and that coil of barbed wire began to vibrate.
There, right beneath my feet, and beside my leg, a cock pheasant was attempting to fly up and out of that coil of wire!! I guess he must have run out ahead of us and ducked into what he thought was a safe haven. With us standing there talking he finally got so nervous he had to fly.
I watched in awe as he bounced from one side of the coil to the other in the attempt to escape. Finally he cleared the top of the coil and with a laughing cry began to fly away.
I came to my senses and realized that I was the only person with a shot at the bird. In a panic I threw up my shotgun and fired two absolutely off mark shots. Above the laughter of my friends the cock offered up one more cawing cry and was out of range.
I spent the rest of the trip listening to friends tell everyone at the restaurant and anyone else who would listen about that barbed wire pheasant and my pitiful reaction and shots. I've spent a lot of time since then thinking about what happened.
Now I have missed a lot of shots in my life, probably missed more shots than I have made. But that was a perfect chance, one almost no one can miss. But I did. Why?
I think I have a pretty clear understanding of what happened. I was so surprised that I lost focus on what was happening around me. I was in Kansas to hunt. I was in that field specifically to shoot at cock pheasants. That was my purpose.
But I got interested in watching the bird try and escape the wire. I watched him bounce around inside. And in all of that I forgot what I was in the field to do. So I missed the easy shot.
I wonder how many people in our land today are losing focus in their lives and missing great opportunities? You know, I don't own any stock except that held by my pension account and I'm not within years of retiring, so why am I so concerning about the current up and downs of the market? I don't own a GMC automobile and haven't for years, so why am I so concerned about the future of that company. I paid 20% down on my home and am blessed to be able to make my payments on time each month, so why am I so concerned about the banks who loaned money to people on 100% of the value and the home and whose income wouldn't support the payments? You see, I'm often focused on the wrong things.
This morning I had the opportunity to refocus. One of our members leaves for seminary next week. I have been really excited for her and believe she will become a wonderful minister. I have helped her get scholarships and aid to make school possible as she doesn't have a great income or resources. I, like others in the church, was worried about her car.
She has a car that had a rusting frame and an engine that was not in very good shape. We had been looking for a way to get her car fixed enough for her to be able to depend on it. We weren't having much success.
Then one of the people who attends our church, but isn't a member, called with an amazing offer. This lady and her family own a used car lot. They offered to give our student a new car free and clear to make her seminary experience possible. WOW!!!
This morning we surprised our student with the keys to a new car and also sold her old one and paid it off free and clear. There were a lot of tears.
The lady who gave the car away said these words, "I remembered that when times are tough we need to focus on how we can help one another. I can't do a lot, but I do have cars that are paid for and I can give one away."
Focus on helping one another. You know, if we all could take that focus in our daily lives, then this economic blip would quickly pass away and without near the pain that it will have if we don't keep our focus on what is truly important.
Every time I think about that barbed wire pheasant, I stop and tell myself to regain my focus, on helping other people.
I hope you will do the same.
Bill
Over the years I have had many wonderful experiences in the fields around Abbeyville and Arlington. But probably none have been as amazing as this year.
On the first morning in the first field we hunted we had one of those once every ten years hunt. Every few yards we found birds and more birds. The dogs had some great points and it was one of those magical mornings that keep us all coming back.
We reached the far back corner of the field and gathered to collect ourselves before starting down the other side. I was standing with two friends near an old fence line laughing and talking about points and shots when I noticed that there was a large coil of old barbed wire leaning against a post (one of those limestone posts that mark a lot of the territory there). Suddenly the ground near me began to shake. There was a loud rustling noise and that coil of barbed wire began to vibrate.
There, right beneath my feet, and beside my leg, a cock pheasant was attempting to fly up and out of that coil of wire!! I guess he must have run out ahead of us and ducked into what he thought was a safe haven. With us standing there talking he finally got so nervous he had to fly.
I watched in awe as he bounced from one side of the coil to the other in the attempt to escape. Finally he cleared the top of the coil and with a laughing cry began to fly away.
I came to my senses and realized that I was the only person with a shot at the bird. In a panic I threw up my shotgun and fired two absolutely off mark shots. Above the laughter of my friends the cock offered up one more cawing cry and was out of range.
I spent the rest of the trip listening to friends tell everyone at the restaurant and anyone else who would listen about that barbed wire pheasant and my pitiful reaction and shots. I've spent a lot of time since then thinking about what happened.
Now I have missed a lot of shots in my life, probably missed more shots than I have made. But that was a perfect chance, one almost no one can miss. But I did. Why?
I think I have a pretty clear understanding of what happened. I was so surprised that I lost focus on what was happening around me. I was in Kansas to hunt. I was in that field specifically to shoot at cock pheasants. That was my purpose.
But I got interested in watching the bird try and escape the wire. I watched him bounce around inside. And in all of that I forgot what I was in the field to do. So I missed the easy shot.
I wonder how many people in our land today are losing focus in their lives and missing great opportunities? You know, I don't own any stock except that held by my pension account and I'm not within years of retiring, so why am I so concerning about the current up and downs of the market? I don't own a GMC automobile and haven't for years, so why am I so concerned about the future of that company. I paid 20% down on my home and am blessed to be able to make my payments on time each month, so why am I so concerned about the banks who loaned money to people on 100% of the value and the home and whose income wouldn't support the payments? You see, I'm often focused on the wrong things.
This morning I had the opportunity to refocus. One of our members leaves for seminary next week. I have been really excited for her and believe she will become a wonderful minister. I have helped her get scholarships and aid to make school possible as she doesn't have a great income or resources. I, like others in the church, was worried about her car.
She has a car that had a rusting frame and an engine that was not in very good shape. We had been looking for a way to get her car fixed enough for her to be able to depend on it. We weren't having much success.
Then one of the people who attends our church, but isn't a member, called with an amazing offer. This lady and her family own a used car lot. They offered to give our student a new car free and clear to make her seminary experience possible. WOW!!!
This morning we surprised our student with the keys to a new car and also sold her old one and paid it off free and clear. There were a lot of tears.
The lady who gave the car away said these words, "I remembered that when times are tough we need to focus on how we can help one another. I can't do a lot, but I do have cars that are paid for and I can give one away."
Focus on helping one another. You know, if we all could take that focus in our daily lives, then this economic blip would quickly pass away and without near the pain that it will have if we don't keep our focus on what is truly important.
Every time I think about that barbed wire pheasant, I stop and tell myself to regain my focus, on helping other people.
I hope you will do the same.
Bill
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Are You What You Wear
Once upon a time getting dressed for church on Sunday was easy. I got up, put on a white shirt, knotted a tie (I did go wild there, often having ties with pictures of quail or snowmen on them instead of the traditional stripes), put on a suit and drove to church. There I took off the coat and put on my robe and stole. It was as easy as that, no thought involved at all and I was always properly attired.
Even though I resented an experience I had during my first appointment, I realized I wasn't that far removed from it. Let me describe that experience.
I had just graduated from seminary, received my first appointment, and was invited to have tea at the apartment of a retired minister who served in that church. During the visit he told me to come into his bedroom and he would show me what the closet of a Methodist minister should look like. (once again seminary had failed me; not one class or lecture on proper ministerial dress!) He opened the door to his closet and there were seven dark blue or black suits hanging on the rack. Next to them were seven long sleeve white dress shirts. Draped over a hanger were several red, blue and striped ties. On the floor were two pairs of highly polished black wing tip shoes. "That is what a preacher's closet should look like!" he solemnly informed me.
Now I never followed that theology of sartorical propriaty. In fact a few weeks later he wanted to have me excommunicated. The senior pastor was on vacation and I preached my first sermon in that congregation. At the end of the message the retired minister informed me that I had disgraced the ministry! I thought it was a pretty good sermon and was extremely disappointed. He then informed me that I had...shock of all Satanic shocks....worn brown shoes into the pulpit!!!! I almost never regret that choice.
Looking back I realized that while I wasn't in that school, I was not very far off. I still wore a tie and a robe and looked like a preacher. (Not the green leisure suit of TV evangelists, thank God.)
Now I look back and in many ways long for the security of those easy days! I awaken now and have not a clue what to wear. If I put on jeans I am told that my tire shop is open, you know, your belly has Dunloped over your belt. If I wear slacks and a dress shirt, then I am out of touch with the vast majority of the congregation. If I wear chino's and a polo shirt, I am uncomfortable. Who would have ever known that in seminary I should have taken classes in chic?
I am told that I just need to wear what makes me feel comfortable. That doesn't help at all. The only clothes I really feel comfortable in are my hunting and fishing clothes, you know those things you wear when only your very best friends will see you. Somehow those don't seem appropriate for leading worship.
Or are they? Do I really believe that God is impressed by what I wear? Am I really so tied to the thinking of my Grandma, who was taught you only wear your very best before God? What do I really believe?
I wish I could tell you that I have an answer to post on the blog. Oh, how I wish I could tell you that. But the truth is that while I love the freedom of preaching without pulpit and the freedom of telling God's story in wild and new ways; I still am extremely uncomfortable with how in the world I should dress. Perhaps I am just still recovering from wearing an Axel Rose costume on stage a few weeks ago!
It is easy for me to feel comfortable with people in shorts and tank tops sitting in the congregation. I have no problem with our several Goth couples in the audience. The motorcycle for Jesus folks with all their leathers and tattoos are great. In fact, when someone comes in with a tie on we know they are lost! None of that bothers me. But I agonize over what I should wear.
Who would have ever imagined that of all the changes I've made these past two years, the biggest, most difficult, most enduring problem I face is what to wear on Sunday?
Anyone out there got any suggestions?
God's best,
Bill
Even though I resented an experience I had during my first appointment, I realized I wasn't that far removed from it. Let me describe that experience.
I had just graduated from seminary, received my first appointment, and was invited to have tea at the apartment of a retired minister who served in that church. During the visit he told me to come into his bedroom and he would show me what the closet of a Methodist minister should look like. (once again seminary had failed me; not one class or lecture on proper ministerial dress!) He opened the door to his closet and there were seven dark blue or black suits hanging on the rack. Next to them were seven long sleeve white dress shirts. Draped over a hanger were several red, blue and striped ties. On the floor were two pairs of highly polished black wing tip shoes. "That is what a preacher's closet should look like!" he solemnly informed me.
Now I never followed that theology of sartorical propriaty. In fact a few weeks later he wanted to have me excommunicated. The senior pastor was on vacation and I preached my first sermon in that congregation. At the end of the message the retired minister informed me that I had disgraced the ministry! I thought it was a pretty good sermon and was extremely disappointed. He then informed me that I had...shock of all Satanic shocks....worn brown shoes into the pulpit!!!! I almost never regret that choice.
Looking back I realized that while I wasn't in that school, I was not very far off. I still wore a tie and a robe and looked like a preacher. (Not the green leisure suit of TV evangelists, thank God.)
Now I look back and in many ways long for the security of those easy days! I awaken now and have not a clue what to wear. If I put on jeans I am told that my tire shop is open, you know, your belly has Dunloped over your belt. If I wear slacks and a dress shirt, then I am out of touch with the vast majority of the congregation. If I wear chino's and a polo shirt, I am uncomfortable. Who would have ever known that in seminary I should have taken classes in chic?
I am told that I just need to wear what makes me feel comfortable. That doesn't help at all. The only clothes I really feel comfortable in are my hunting and fishing clothes, you know those things you wear when only your very best friends will see you. Somehow those don't seem appropriate for leading worship.
Or are they? Do I really believe that God is impressed by what I wear? Am I really so tied to the thinking of my Grandma, who was taught you only wear your very best before God? What do I really believe?
I wish I could tell you that I have an answer to post on the blog. Oh, how I wish I could tell you that. But the truth is that while I love the freedom of preaching without pulpit and the freedom of telling God's story in wild and new ways; I still am extremely uncomfortable with how in the world I should dress. Perhaps I am just still recovering from wearing an Axel Rose costume on stage a few weeks ago!
It is easy for me to feel comfortable with people in shorts and tank tops sitting in the congregation. I have no problem with our several Goth couples in the audience. The motorcycle for Jesus folks with all their leathers and tattoos are great. In fact, when someone comes in with a tie on we know they are lost! None of that bothers me. But I agonize over what I should wear.
Who would have ever imagined that of all the changes I've made these past two years, the biggest, most difficult, most enduring problem I face is what to wear on Sunday?
Anyone out there got any suggestions?
God's best,
Bill
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Ellie, TV star
One of the major changes that I have endured in the change from a traditional worship pastor to the leader of a "Modern," "Contemporary," "Theatrical," "Experiencial," or whatever the heck style of worship we now offer has been the lies told at the end of the service. In traditional worship the service ends with the minister standing in the doorway listening to some whoppers that would make the most fanatical fisherman proud. Things like; "Preacher you really inspired me this morning with your words," this from the man who you saw clearly from the pulpit snoring throughout the message!" Or; "I have never heard a more impressive sermon!" from a man you know never darkened the doors of a church before. While a part of my mind always knew that these comments and compliments were bogus or at best only well intentioned. They still fueled my ego and during bad weeks (when the offerings were down or the complaints were up) they kept me going.
In my current church I am in the midst of a record setting run. For the past six weeks no one has commented on my sermon at all. At the end of the service everyone dashes out the back doors of the worship center to see if there are still any donuts and coffee left while I am left standing in front of the stage looking at their backs. It's not that the parishioners don't enjoy what I say and the production that surrounds it; it is just that they have no history of building up preachers with false praise so they just go on their way. On a really good day they might discuss the service over latte's at Starbucks.
I have adapted to this reality. I have determined that I can live with my own evaluations of the message and service. I know when things have gone well or not. I still suspect God knows also. I have learned that when the staff doesn't criticize my delivery or some point that might offend "seekers" like when I refer to the closing hymn and not one soul in the place knows what I am talking about, then things have gone well. I have been rather proud of this growth of my internal strength.
Then my dog ruined everything!
Last week we taped a new devotional for our weekly television program. In this episode I put on my quail hunting gear and took my 9 year old German Shorthaired Pointer, Ellie, out to do the shoot. In the taping I sat on the tailgate of my truck (a Honda Ridgeline, after all I'd love to have a sponsor!!) with Ellie sitting beside me.
I introduced her to the audience and talked about how she loves to hunt and that she is never prouder or more happy than when she is hunting because then she is doing what God created her to do. My point was that we all need to discover what God created us to do.
We finished taping and I went back to the office. And the hurting began. A couple of the staff were wowed by Ellie. They begged to go outside and meet her. They talked about how cute she was and how well she had carried out her role in the production. (Now just how difficult can it be to sit on a tailgate and look loveable?) They raved over her.
That would have been bad enough but it didn't stop with the staff. Two members had driven by and seen us out doing the taping. They too wanted to meet Ellie. They too raved.
On Sunday morning five more people who had been told by the staff or the formerly mentioned members (I didn't have the courage to ask who had talked) wanted to tell me how pretty and well behaved they heard Ellie was. She was and is a heroine. People who can't talk to me to compliment my hours and hours of work on a sermon, come dashing up to brag on my dog!
Such is the life of a contemporary preacher. My dog has more star power than me!
I know humility is seen as a wonderful goal, but does God have to rub my nose in it?
The adventure continues.
God's best,
Bill
In my current church I am in the midst of a record setting run. For the past six weeks no one has commented on my sermon at all. At the end of the service everyone dashes out the back doors of the worship center to see if there are still any donuts and coffee left while I am left standing in front of the stage looking at their backs. It's not that the parishioners don't enjoy what I say and the production that surrounds it; it is just that they have no history of building up preachers with false praise so they just go on their way. On a really good day they might discuss the service over latte's at Starbucks.
I have adapted to this reality. I have determined that I can live with my own evaluations of the message and service. I know when things have gone well or not. I still suspect God knows also. I have learned that when the staff doesn't criticize my delivery or some point that might offend "seekers" like when I refer to the closing hymn and not one soul in the place knows what I am talking about, then things have gone well. I have been rather proud of this growth of my internal strength.
Then my dog ruined everything!
Last week we taped a new devotional for our weekly television program. In this episode I put on my quail hunting gear and took my 9 year old German Shorthaired Pointer, Ellie, out to do the shoot. In the taping I sat on the tailgate of my truck (a Honda Ridgeline, after all I'd love to have a sponsor!!) with Ellie sitting beside me.
I introduced her to the audience and talked about how she loves to hunt and that she is never prouder or more happy than when she is hunting because then she is doing what God created her to do. My point was that we all need to discover what God created us to do.
We finished taping and I went back to the office. And the hurting began. A couple of the staff were wowed by Ellie. They begged to go outside and meet her. They talked about how cute she was and how well she had carried out her role in the production. (Now just how difficult can it be to sit on a tailgate and look loveable?) They raved over her.
That would have been bad enough but it didn't stop with the staff. Two members had driven by and seen us out doing the taping. They too wanted to meet Ellie. They too raved.
On Sunday morning five more people who had been told by the staff or the formerly mentioned members (I didn't have the courage to ask who had talked) wanted to tell me how pretty and well behaved they heard Ellie was. She was and is a heroine. People who can't talk to me to compliment my hours and hours of work on a sermon, come dashing up to brag on my dog!
Such is the life of a contemporary preacher. My dog has more star power than me!
I know humility is seen as a wonderful goal, but does God have to rub my nose in it?
The adventure continues.
God's best,
Bill
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