176 days in

The school year is like the baseball season - it seemingly goes on forever. And also like baseball, the significance of any one day or game really seems fairly meaningless. It's in the day to day routine of working on the skills or standards as we call them, the patient but confident building of abilities and molding of character that things happen. As a teacher now for a while and a pastor for much longer, I've learned the routines and accepted them.

When a batter is in a slump, one of the first things he does is to go back and watch film of when he was in the groove. If it's a really bad slump, he might even reach out to an old coach. I've read of stars who were struggling calling in high school coaches.

When a teacher can't reach a student, they do check to see if they are teaching the fundamentals well. They examine their interactions with the child, and talk with others who interact as well. They try other approaches. They seek to find a motivating tool to use to get the student to perform in a way that will help them grow.

176 days in, after doing all of that and much more, after being at the point of frustration many many times, I think it happened.

I was hugged by a nine year old boy.

He's so very bright. I have never had a child who has asked so many questions that were worthy of adult conversations. Of course most all of those occurred when we were discussing something else, but...

Yet he is always on his own path, that only occasionally coincides with what all the adults who want desperately to see him grow have planned.

But Friday, after a typical day of trying to encourage him to persevere in doing his best and finding him doing far less, we had a conversation. Nothing unusual on my side - another try at getting him to see that if he'd set his sights on a goal and work hard until he got there, all the adults who care so much about him would not only rejoice in a way the heavens would hear, but he would find that all the structures we've constructed to keep him in line would fall away, like training wheels taken off a bicycle do once the skills are mastered.

He listened and went back to work.

Then right before he left, he came up to my side and gave me a hug before he left.

176 days in.

Teaching...

It made me wonder... "Lord Jesus, how in the world do you put up with us?"

Harry Potter and the Hope Eternal

As a young boy, I read every Superman comic I could plead for, later enjoyed the works of Mark Twain, and others who took me to places and times I'll never inhabit - except through their prose.

As a pastor, over the years I have received different responses from people about the Harry Potter series when they found out I had read them all. And at times I've had questions from parents about whether their children should read them - those questions coming not because of what they knew personally about them, but what they had heard.

Well after finishing the last of the Harry Potter series again recently, I'm not sure that as time goes by we might not see theologians treating the books and their author much more kindly. For in this book I found words I have always treasured in the most uncommon places.

When Harry ventures back home to where his parents are buried, he comes across the gravestone of his mentor Dumbledore's mother and sister. The Mother was killed trying to protect the daughter from herself, and later the daughter died too. On the gravestone were these words.

Where your treasure is, there your hearts will be also.

This of course comes from Christ's words in Matthew 19 "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matt 6:19-21 (NIV)

Then Harry finds himself at the graves of his parents, who both died trying to protect him from an evil wizard, and the reader sees these words on their monument.

The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

Coming again from Scripture - 24 Then comes the end, when he delivers the kingdom to God the Father after destroying every rule and every authority and power. 25 For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. 26 The last enemy to be destroyed is death. 1 Cor 15:24-26 (ESV)

The themes of "the Greater Good", of sacrifice, of selflessness, of laying down your life for your friends run all through this last book. If you cannot see that, it's not that you have read too much fiction.

It's that you have read too little Scripture.

Reading for information isn't enough.

You have to read the Bible with a sense of anticipation - of wonder, relief and amazement that God - this God - the One and Only God - would sacrifice His One and Only Son - for you.

And that through your love for Him, you would lay down your life for your friends - no matter what.

You know you are flawed, but that He is able to use you to change lives for eternity.

And you have to be convinced in your very soul that your life matters to God - that what you do matters. You have a part in the Big Story of God's reconciling the world to Himself.

If you can see that connection with your own life's walk, then it will be easy to spot it wherever it appears in any variation whether explicitly Christian or not - even in fictional books like the Harry Potter series.

I'm grateful for J.K. Rowling's work, and the treasures I found in The Deathly Hallows. But I'm immeasurably more grateful to the God who through the sacrifice of His sinless Son, gave me freedom from guilt and shame, a purpose for living, and the hope of eternal life with Him, when death will be destroyed and love triumphs over all.

Shalom,

David

Red Ink and Laughter - A Teacher's Influence

If your gift is that of serving others, serve them well. If you are a teacher, do a good job of teaching.8 If your gift is to encourage others, do it! Romans 12:7-8 (NLT)

How many people have you met in your lifetime? You probably can't count that high. Okay, how many can you say made a real difference? Chances are, out of a list of the top ten, there will be a teacher in there somewhere. Think back - who would you choose? What teacher affected you the most?

You'd probably not choose someone who laughed at you while scrawling a big red "F" on your essay. But that's exactly why I'd put Dr. Catherine Futral high on my list of women who've affected my life.

After a long time away, I had returned to Mercer University in Macon, GA to finish my undergraduate degree. I was majoring in business, because that's what my company would pay for, and was checking off the squares of required courses when I ran head on into Dr. Futral. A fixture for years at Tift College in Forsyth, she was teaching in the evening college after Mercer had absorbed her beloved campus. My goal was to get all my English courses out of the way as quickly and as easily as possible. Her goal seemed to be the destruction of the ecosystem by flooding the world with red ink.

To give you a mental picture of her wouldn't be hard. Think English teacher. That was harsh. Okay, think English teacher with a great smile and eyes that twinkled as she explained just how miserable she would be making our lives for the next 12 weeks.

She was a woman of grace, peppering her lectures with humor, and her comments on our work with wit. A committed Christian, and member of First Baptist Church of Forsyth, she'd often bring her faith experiences into her lectures. She'd quote Shakespeare, Faulkner, and the Psalms all in the same example of how to write a compelling paragraph. But when she evaluated your work - well, you'd better be ready to hear the truth.

I'll never forget one paper I wrote which received this comment: "Until the very last line of this paper, I felt that it was one of the best I had read. However, your thoughtless comma splice in the last phrase ruined it for me - and you." Beside that snippet she inscribed a large red "F".

Can I call that the gift of encouragement?

It was for me. My mission from that point on was to make Dr. Futral see the error of her ways. She kept trying to change my style, wanting me to use less punctuation - create shorter sentences - eliminate the passive voice. At one point, I ran a paper through a grammar checker program (new technology at the time) and handed it in. Her comment? "This isn't your work." "Oh yes it is," I replied, "and it's perfect." "It may very well be perfect as far as grammar is concerned," she shot back," but it is perfectly awful prose." You've never seen a smile leave anyone's face as fast as mine did. "You can do better," she said now smiling as she handed it back to me, "write it like David this time - from the heart."

Maybe she was from another time, when teachers could demand more and not worry about their student's self esteem. All I know is that she gave her best and expected ours in return. I think of her often and thank God for her. In a sense I'm still writing partly for Dr. Futral. She believed in me. Every time I write I remember, "from the heart."

Do you remember someone who encouraged you along the way? Someone who helped you become the person you wanted to be?

Let them know it. 

They gave you their gift - pass it on.

Grace!

David Wilson

Hey! Little Help Here!

What do you know about this picture without any doubt whatsoever?

That turtle did not get on that fence post by himself. Someone else had to put him there.



That popped into my admittedly strange mind when I was reading the first of the letters attributed to the apostle Peter. That rough hewn Galilean fisherman is one of my favorite characters in all of Scripture simply because of his so obvious flaws in character. Impulsive, unlearned, rough, crass, and with an opinion of himself that didn't square with who he really was, Peter was as they say all over the South, "a real piece of work." Now for those of you who are not clued into Southern expressions, that one has more to do with how much work is yet to be done than it ever has with what sort of person the "piece of work" is now.

Peter needed work.

A LOT of work.

Oh he had his moments, but there were always others coming down the road that showed everyone just how short of the mark he was. At root, Peter was all about Peter and how things affected him. He's the absolutely last person I would ever expect to write something like this.

8 Most of all, love each other as if your life depended on it. Love makes up for practically anything.
1 Peter 4:8 (MSG)

See, I read that and it made me go "Whoa! How'd he get there?"

I'd say Peter had help getting to that point in his life. He'd been led past "what's in it for me?", and made his way by "what difference does it make?" To "Christ is all. He is enough. He is here- for me -no matter what."

Now, with everything he has within him, he's practically begging his fellow followers of Jesus to make love the end all be all of their lives - of every waking moment.

What changed Peter?

His great failure, and Christ's great forgiving grace.

Peter never forgot just what Jesus had done for him. Have you?

Do you need a touch of God's amazing grace today?

Open your heart, confessing your need and accept His love as help for your soul. Find the freedom that only a life hid in Christ's love can give.

You can't get there without help.

Grace and peace,

David

Sharing Jesus As A Grace Driven Church

We're walking through a series of messages that examine the purposes of the Church through the lens of grace. Today, we looked at evangelism. When I laid out the series,I felt that this would be the hardest to deal with. Now after I have delivered it, I still think that's the case.

We need to live out our love for Jesus in such a way that even those who oppose our worldview admire the way we live it. It means holding those beliefs tightly, but opening our hands and hearts to be good neighbors, regardless of whether those neighbors agree with us on a number of areas.

It means seeking the common ground that the apostle Paul wrote about.

My prayer is that we at New Hope would be people of grace, always ready to give an answer to the question of why we love God, love each other, and love others. And that we give that answer gently, gracefully, with respect for the person who asks.

Here's the You Tube link.

Taking It Personally

1 Thes. 5:11 (Msg)
So speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you'll all be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind. I know you're already doing this; just keep on doing it. 

One day a young boy came home from school with a note. It suggested that his parents take him out of school. Partially deaf, the boy was having problems keeping up with the other students. But rather than help him, they sent him away. The note said that the boy was "too stupid to learn." 

When the boy's mother read the note, she said, "My son Tom isn't 'too stupid to learn.' I'll teach him myself." When Tom, then known as Thomas, oh and Edison was his last name - died many years later, the people of our nation paid tribute to him by turning off the nation's lights. which he had invented, for one full minute. Thomas Edison invented not only the light bulb we read by, but also motion pictures and the rec­ord player. He has over one thousand patents to his credit. You might very well have known all that. 

But you wouldn't have if Thomas Edison's mother, Nancy, hadn't taken that offense personally and set out to prove the school system wrong. Edison himself later said of her, "My mother was the making of me. She was so true, so sure of me, and I felt I had some one to live for, some one I must not disappoint." 

Everyone needs someone like that. And many of you are that "someone" to others around you. You are making a difference, most of the time going unnoticed and unappreciated. That's why I'm writing this. 

I'm writing today to thank all of you who have heard society tell you that teenagers won't amount to anything - then set out personally to prove the critics wrong by investing your lives into those of countless boys and girls. 

I'm writing today to thank all of you who hear all the time about how churches don't make a difference any more - and have dedicated your lives to proving them wrong by serving your communities in countless ways, sometimes at great cost. 

I'm writing today to thank all of you who have been told that your church was dying - and took it personally - telling the devil and all his henchmen - "Not on my watch" - and are doing the hard work of loving people and inviting them to come and meet God in worship. Heart by heart, you are building God's church. 

And I'm writing today to all of you who see the wrongs and try to right them, who see the hurts and try to heal them, and who never hear one word of praise. That aggravates me. You could say I take it personally. 

Thank you for what you do. It matters. May God bless your efforts. Keep on doing it. 

Grace! 

David Wilson 

Today

Come, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish,
Come at the shrine of God fervently kneel;
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish—
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
~Thomas Moore, c.1813, published in Sacred Songs, 1816

It's been thirteen years today.

Countless moments have passed. Our love of Ana has never ceased.

Heaven is healing. Heaven will ultimately heal completely.

And one day, we will meet our granddaughter.

Until then, we will love our family fiercely. We will seek every opportunity to live this all so precious life with them. 

So if you're reading this, Wilson clan, know that you are loved more deeply than words could ever express. ALL of you - sons by birth, daughters by marriage - ALL of you.

Plan B Is A Blessing

Well, we at New Hope sure had to be this weekend, as an electrical problem caused us to lose the use of our sanctuary's air conditioners - and we're in Florida - so we need to know we can call on them. That meant we had to move to the fellowship hall for worship. Very different but we pulled it off. Plan B only changed the location, not the object of our worship - Jesus.

Here's the YouVersion link for this week - YouVersion

And thanks to Jonathan McGee, here's a very rare (but hopefully not so rare from now on) video of me delivering the message.

Hopefully we'll be back in the sanctuary come Sunday, but if not, we'll not lose anything in the sweet fellowship, warm worship, and the presence of the Holy Spirit with us.

The Cost of Freedom and Forgiveness

The Cost

So this was the cost

the price you had to pay for me

to be with me

to save me

to redeem me

You laid down here for me

Hung here for me

Died here for me

You laid down here for me

As they laughed at you

And said who’s hitting you

You laid down here for me

As they nailed you

Impaled you

You laid here as nails cut you, pierced you, ripped you

You laid down here for me

You hung here for me as they mocked you

Jew King, here’s your crown so come down and be king

You hung here for me as your breath wouldn’t come

And the blood wouldn’t stop

and nails or no nails you still are God

and could have come down

and made the pain stop and made the laughs stop

but you hung here for me

You died here for me

As you said

it is finished

And now there is nothing left,

But the horror of this place

And I want to turn away, to walk away, to run away

To just forget without regret

All the horror of this place

Of the blood on your face

And the pain of the nails and the hole in your side

But I can’t turn away cause I need to be saved

And if this is what it takes for me to know you

To be with you

to find you

if this is what it takes for you to save me

Then I can’t look away

Cause I need you to save

this soul that cries out for you,

dies for you,

reaches for you

If this is what it takes then I all I can say is

Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!

Cause I need to be saved

And I...

I can’t pay the cost

Valentine Gifts

The year was 1973. At the beginning of the year, gas was still cheap, and you could still buy a car for less than $4,000 fully loaded. Skylab was launched, the World Trade Center and the Sears Tower opened. There were no cell phones, there was no internet - which meant that when you met someone, you did it in person. In 1973, I fell head over heels in love.

I had been recruited by my friend Ernie Tidwell to play basketball for Bethesda Baptist Church. It was a church that I had gone to when I was little, but once we moved out in the country, that ended my church activity. But I loved to play basketball, so I agreed to give up a Sunday morning a month to have a chance to play.

When I came back home from UGA, I left most of my friends behind - still at school. Ernie and I had worked together the summer before I left and reconnected once I started Macon Junior. So when he asked me to come to his girlfriend's house to hang out and play board games, I readily accepted. Once there, I can remember being in the living room when through a swinging door from the kitchen came the most beautiful girl I had (and have) ever seen. Pick up a thesaurus and dump out all the adjectives.

Then look for some verbs to describe what I felt. Stunned, stupefied, gobsmacked - I'll run out of those too quickly. I honestly went home thinking I had made a fool out of myself, trying not to be noticed looking at her eyes, her smile, or listening too intently when she laughed. I tried to act normal, but I'd never ever felt that way before.

On the way home I kept replaying the evening. And yet she was Ernie's girl, so I did my best to be a good friend to him and to her. We rode to basketball games together for the next couple of months, and continued to hang out from time to time. For them it seemed nothing had changed, but for me, everything had - and I didn't know what to do about it.

Valentine's came along though, and of course I didn't have a girlfriend. And Bunny was still Ernie's girl. But I felt like I needed to give her a gift, as a friend of course. So I bought her a Beatles poster. I almost didn't give it to her - I was afraid she'd think I was weird. (By then, she'd have already picked up on that, but teenage emotions cloud your reasoning.) With everything I had in me, I wanted her to like that poster, and wrapped in it not so discretely, me.

It was the first time in my life that I knew that if I could have anything in this life, I wanted Bunny Clinard as my love forever, and my first action in hopes that my wish might come true.

This is our 42nd February. For me, it began right there.

And to this day, I have never forgotten that feeling, and I have never stopped thanking God for giving me my heart's desire.

Happy Valentine's day, my love.

The Daily Dare

With desperate and hungry people camped all over the church lawn, Jesus turns, then and now, to his followers and speaks what is either a cruel joke or lavish divine humor: "They need not go away; you give them something to eat" (M.t 14:16). The disciples, fully aware that their own resources are not up to the magnitude of the need (Mt 14:17) nonetheless trust that the jest is a divine one and obey Jesus.  Thomas G. Long

Jesus' words "You give them something to eat," are a "divine jest." They are a daily dare. He's saying "I dare you to take me at my word. And see what happens. "

A few years ago, a few New Hope folks began helping out with the "Supper on Saturday" meal distribution. It's a wonderful program that brings together people from the local Methodist mega-church as well as others from other churches in trying to meet the needs of the poor among us all. After that experience, we reasoned that if some were taking 6 meals for two people, then perhaps the need was greater than just on Saturday. We were already cooking meals for anyone who came on Wednesday night, so what's a little more?

You see the picture of the shelves above? That's our pantry for the meals. It looked pretty low when that picture was taken, and it's been lower. But for 4 years, we have cooked, packed, and delivered anywhere from eighty to one-hundred twenty meals every Wednesday night. We've never missed a Wednesday, regardless of weather or holidays.

It's been part of the "daily dare" that is the walk of faith at New Hope.

During the last six years, our church has weathered severe financial hardship, coming out of debt, and dealing with the lack of resources in a way that turned a challenge into a "see what happens" chance to truly see what God can do with our faith. Our treasurer and I on many occasions have shared a private laugh over what our bank balance was, what our obligations were, and how somehow, someway, God always, always, always got us through. One week I shared that we had $1.21 in the bank during a Wednesday night prayer meeting, and my beloved church family burst out in applause. "Look what God did tonight with $1.21" one man said. "We delivered 120 meals" for less than what you could find in the couch cushions."

Now we've done what we could. I've returned to bivocational status, working as a teacher to cut overhead. We're notoriously frugal as a church when it comes to spending on things. But I believe we are notoriously generous when it comes to spending on helping people - wherever they may be. And right now I sense God beginning to move us to do more.

Friend, we're just normal people. There are a lot of ways we could improve. But I don't think we can improve on the call of Jesus to come along and see what He can do with folks who don't have much, but are willing to see what He can do with it.

Shameless plug: If you want to be a part of a church that hasn't forgotten why we're here, and tries very hard to do as much as we can, for as many as we can - come join us at New Hope.  Oh and bring some green beans - we could use them for this week's meal. :)

Wearing Him Well

“Putting on Christ'...is not one among many jobs a Christian has to do; and it is not a sort of special exercise for the top class. It is the whole of Christianity. Christianity offers nothing else at all.” 
― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

So we know how to act.

To do the right thing, to say the right words, or not say them.

Well, most of us do.

We know that we need to "put on Christ."

Most of the time we do okay. But if we're honest, that "clothing" wears thin when the wind of criticism, the tiny cuts of aggravating people, and just the stress of living snatches us away from the place we want to live.

But some people... it just FITS them.

One of the folks God's graced Bunny and me with makes me want to be more like Christ every time I watch him bless people with his genuine goodness, his heart for others and his devotion to his Lord. While others walk around the most menial tasks thinking someone will get that, he quietly heads that way. When a most demanding person causes others to cringe, he quiets that storm with his grace expressed - placing himself in service to him in such a humble way it's shocking to watch.

Shocking in a most convicting way.

He'll never preach a sermon.

But he lives one every day.

Thanks, Ray.

You wear Him well.

Christmas - Weakly

While rereading the accounts of Christmas again, it occurred to me - God's powerful act of Incarnation couldn't have come to a more unlikely group of people. His mighty actions and revealed plans to change everything elicited a very weak response from those who received the news.

Zachariah doubted God and couldn't even believe when an angel showed up.

Joseph searched for another way to explain what Mary had told him.

Even Mary, a model of faith, asked "How can this be...?"

Each and every one of them had a moment or moments when the situation they were presented with was just too much to believe.

Have you ever been there?

I sure have.

There have been times where, despite years of trying to live a live of faith and devotion to Jesus, something will happen and I'll silently ask the question "How can this be...?" Or really, how in the world am I going to make it through this?

To that question, God answers - "wait."

Uh, not really helpful - see we have this situation here and I need to get it fixed. And to that you say - "wait?"

I realized when I typed it that "wait" is not a word we would ever associate with Christmas, unless we add the obligatory "I can't.." as a prefix.

And yet, waiting is exactly what God required of each of the people involved in Christmas.

Zachariah and Elizabeth had prayed for a son all their married lives.

Joseph and Mary agreed in their betrothal to wait a year before consummating their marriage.

Even after the angel's announcements to them, there was the usual nine month wait for the babies that were promised to appear.

How long have you been waiting for your Christmas miracle to come? I'm not talking about that long promised pony or motorcycle.

I'm thinking of that moment when the faith you have...

...expands to fill your whole life.  When this verse becomes reality... to you.

What is faith? It is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see. Heb 11:1 (NLT)

You know what?

I'm encouraged that Zachariah wouldn't take an angel's word for it. And in a way I'm grateful for Joseph's worries and Mary's concerns.

Because I am no weaker than they were, when they failed to grasp Christmas.

But then it's not about us, in our weakness.

It's about God, and His unfailing love. Remember what Gabriel said? "For nothing is impossible with God."

We can have the faith they had when we, like Mary, say to God, "let it be to me exactly as you wish. I trust you."

May we all be given the grace to do just that.

Grace and peace,

David

Thanksgiving 2014

One year ago, Bunny was holding a much smaller Aiden. He's grown so big. Missing him and Adam and Shonda this Thanksgiving, but thankful to be headed over to share Thanksgiving meal with Sean and Chelsea in a little while.

When I get to Thanksgiving, I always think of those years as a little kid in Macon Georgia. We'd all pile in the car and head over to my Aunt Geneva's house, just up from the cotton mill on Roff Avenue. All of my cousins would be there too, and so we'd get every opportunity to get into trouble.

There was Uncle Ben's bomb shelter, conveniently located under the house, to explore. Maybe we could sneak into the forbidden space of the living room and slide on the polished wood floors in our socks! There were the train tracks to put a penny on, and the post office a block away to visit and see the scary faces of the most wanted. And just down the street was my Uncle Will's store, where barefoot little boys could convince their uncle that his cookies needed to be tested for freshness.

Good times. No, great times.

Oh there were amazing meals. Collard Greens, pecan pies (no one cooks pecan pies like people with pecan trees in their backyard), my Aunt Geneva's best in the world corn bread, turkey and dressing, and every cake known to mankind. For a kid whose parents both worked, and our normal meal would be a 30 minute wonder - it was a staggeringly impressive feast - every year.

And yes, there was football - inside and outside. We'd play outside until lunch, then take some time to properly recover from said lunch by watching the Bears and the Lions or later the Cowboys and whoever they were beating on TV.

I was amazed when I sat down to write this, just how much of the little details of events that happened 40 years ago I did remember. The cars they drove, the year my cousin came home from the Army in uniform, the colors and fall chill - all come leaping back to my memory. But you know, what I remember most is the laughter. When my Mother's family got together, there was always laughter. That didn't mean that life for them was wonderful - this was the mill village, and like most families, they had troubles. Money troubles, alcohol troubles, kid troubles, and health troubles.

But when they were together, something incredible happened - none of those seemed so large. When I think about it now, I'm convinced that happened because when they came together, they were conscious of just how much they loved each other, and just how powerful that love could be, and was. They really did bear one another's burdens -and not just on Thanksgiving.

And when they prayed, it wasn't the 20 second version of grace, it was the recitation of what God had done in the past year for them, how grateful they were for His grace, and how thankful they were that God put them together as a family. Now I look back and see what I couldn't have then. They didn't take anything for granted - they built their lives on that gratitude and love for one another. It wasn't "lucky" that they were together, it was God's grace. And in that grace they dealt with adversity and with blessings.

I always came away impressed that if I was a part of that family, I would never lack for love. No matter what I grew up to be, no matter what I was to make of my life, I could always come back home and run right into the arms of love. Several pairs of them. :) I guess that's why, this time of year, I always want to go back to those times when all my family is together. When I can look around and know that everyone there loves one another no matter what life may bring.

We love, because He first loved us. And out of that love, we live lives that testify to the grace we have received. We grow our family by opening our arms to those outside and setting another place at the table. Just as no one ever was a stranger on Thanksgiving at the Bowden family's meal, no one should ever be turned away. That's what I think a church should be. One big family. I thank God for the family like that we're a part of called New Hope.

Happy Thanksgiving and may God's richest blessings be yours.

Grace and peace,

David

"Just like you said."

I'm a man who believes in grace and mercy - and who draws strength from those deep wells more often than most realize. As a pastor of a smaller church family that's seen its share of challenges, staying focused on Jesus' love has meant that when the storms come I know they come with needed rain and that they will not last forever. God loves me and works everything together for my good - even if it doesn't feel like "good" at the time. And that same beacon keeps me straight at school too.

Every year as a teacher is different. Obviously there are new children and new parents to know and relate to. Less obvious to the outside world are the changes in what you teach and how you teach. Let's just say we are in a time of extremely rapid change that's affecting everyone.

Teaching relies on a lot of skills, but really good teaching has that and more - good teachers have a character that lets them sway with the wind but stay rooted in their confident belief that if they do the right things every day, children will come through their classroom and leave as better students and better people. Like my work as a pastor though, that belief is tested by the times when you can't see the change happen, or when you look out and see people headed the wrong way despite everything you invested and prayed for.

So you learn to pray for rays of sunlight in the dark days - for glimpses of God's mercy and grace. You say things to Him like "If I could just see one thing go right today..."

In the avalanche of prayers that reach His ears, I'm sure that seems trivial. But absent confidence, teaching becomes something of a roller coaster ride depending on immediate success to keep you going. But this time of year, 12 weeks in, immediacy isn't always there.

Our awards ceremony comes for the first nine weeks and I have only one student who qualifies. Most classes have 6 or more. Four of my kids missed it by one point, but they missed it. I'm trying to shake the feeling that somehow I failed.

So I'm sitting in the audience after my turn, watching the 4th graders troop across the stage and applauding when they do, but harder when my kids from last year do. About halfway through,I notice a kid who had the teacher next door to me last year made it. He struggled last year for a lot of reasons out of his control, and a couple of times his teacher had asked me to talk to him. I tried to let him know that it wouldn't always be that hard, and the best thing he could do was do his best at the things he could control. Then I had him look directly at me when I told him that I believed he could and should be an honors student.

And now he was. That was cool to see, but then it happened.

As the 4th graders filed past me, returning to their seats, the boy stopped in front of me and said, "I did it Mr. Wilson. Just like you said I could."

I replied, "Just like I knew you could. Great job!"

A sense of warmth and love filled my soul. I needed that. I had prayed for that.

Thank you God. You were there for me, just like You said.

The Long Walk

Bunny and I had boys, so I'll never experience what my Father in love did that December day back in 1973. Curtis Clinard had boys too - three of them - but he had only one daughter. And on that day, he took a long walk down the aisle of Bethesda Baptist Church and gave her hand to me.

He'd have been 86 today.

And right now, I'm sitting at the desk he used for so many years to prepare thousands of Sunday School lessons. I'm working on tomorrow's sermon about heaven - the place where God will dry every tear - and thanking God for Curtis Clinard's gifts to me.

First among them was my bride, who has been everything I had ever dreamed of or hoped for in a wife. She's just amazing in so many ways - an awesome Mother to two boys, a great pastor's wife, a soul mate and one true love. There aren't enough words to say everything I could say about her and what having her in my life has meant to me.

But Curtis gave me more than just my bride's hand. 

He gave me an example of how a Christian man should live. Over the years I had some opportunities to call on some of his old customers when he was with Carnation-Albers. When I'd mention his name, every one of them would ask two things, "How do you know Curtis?, and "how's he doing?"

Had one laugh out loud when I told him that I had married Curtis' daughter. "You must be some salesman. I'll bet that was a tough sale, because Curtis loved his daughter." I smiled right back and said, "You better believe it was - but it sure was worth it. I got the woman of my dreams and married into a great family to boot." 

In every instance of meeting someone who knew him in a business relationship, I heard of Curtis' integrity and genuine desire to build relationships with people and help his customers any way he could. For someone who was just starting out in sales, it was a great lesson. To have people would remember me 10 years or more later in that same way became my goal.

Having Curtis as my father in law was truly a gift from God. One that is still shaping how I live and relate to God and others to this day. If following God is truly a "long walk in the same direction" as Eugene Peterson has written, then Curtis' long walk marked a trail for me to follow, as it did for others as well.

Curtis had a wonderful journey in this life, for God had blessed him with his one true love, Dot. When she passed away, there was less of him. The next few years were not nearly as full of joy as when they were together, but he still brightened up when family came by.

And then he was gone too. 

As I finish my sermon on heaven for tomorrow, I'm sure Curtis would approve. The title is "Count Me In" and he already has been.

Happy birthday Curtis.

See you later. 

Eulogy for a Sheltie

Every Wednesday for the last few years, my Subaru wagon would roll into the driveway in Valparaiso and two things would happen - I'd deliver some meals to the family, and I'd be greeted by their dog. He was a beautiful Sheltie - like a miniature collie - and announced my arrival by "talking" to me and coming to me to be petted.

If he wasn't at the front of the house, his owner would say "your friend is here" and he'd come waddling down the hall. He wasn't fat - but he sure was fluffy. Okay, he was kind of fat.

Over the years we had formed a bond.

But last week he finished his race. Cancer took him away.

When I rolled into the driveway, the older woman and her son were both outside. As I was walking to the door I heard them talking and finish with "you tell him." Neither one could look up for a moment after the words were spoken.

So I said, "he was a good dog."

And that was enough to start the tears.

For five minutes I heard about a puppy that brought life into the family, and tales of times when he comforted, when he took the day's pain away burst forth.

It was like being at a funeral listening to the eulogies of the family. I've been to a many of them, hear a lot of words.

But you know, it's pretty hard to top...

He was a good dog.

And he was.

Are There Many Of You?

During the first week of school in Okaloosa County, teachers are required to eat lunch with their students in the cafeteria. It's a great time to get to know your new charges on a personal level. Most days now, "lunch" consists of my wolfing down something while simultaneously working on getting ready for Math after lunch, but maybe I need to eat with them every once in a while just to experience something like that which happened that first week.

It's the very first day, and I get my lunch and sit on the corner of two tables, between a boy wearing a ninja turtle shirt and sporting a green mohawk on my right and a sweet freckle-faced little girl with ribbons in her hair on my left.

At first the boy dominates my attention as we talk ninjas, turtles, and ninja turtles. We disagree over which is the coolest, but do so agreeing to revisit once I learn more. It's a slam dunk that I will learn more during the year, as TMNT trivia along with Pokemon traits are hot topics for third grade boys.

Then the little girl tugs on my sleeve and gets my attention. Looking up, she says, "Mr. Wilson, you are my first boy teacher. Are there many of you?"

It took everything I had to keep from bursting into laughter. It was as if she was studiously observing an animal so rare that just being in its presence was a treat. I was trying to decide whether a white rhino or unicorn would be the best avatar when I replied, "No, there aren't many like me in elementary schools, not many at all. But I LOVE teaching third graders like you!"

She grinned from ear to ear, and I looked in the other direction and every one of the others was grinning back at me too.

Tonight, I'm tired and cranky after spending hours planning and grading. I gave everything I had to give this morning at church, enjoyed a great lunch with friends from New Hope, and took a quick nap in the afternoon. But the next 6 hours were intense work, and it wears on you.

So I chose to write this so I could focus on why I teach.

God put me there to make a difference. And I believe I make one.

A rare one. :)

Forgiving and Forgiveness

It's Sunday after church and we're going out to eat. Now being creatures of habit, there's a certain set of restaurants we'll likely go to. But on this day we decide to try a new one. Arriving at the table, I notice a couple sitting nearby (among a dozen or so others) who used to be members of New Hope that I haven't seen in a long time. Maybe a decade.

They were great members of New Hope, and friends and supporters of what we were doing as a church... until they weren't. And in one of those things that happens far, far too often, they left in a huff. The minister of music quit, so they quit. They left in a cloud of bitterness and vitriol.

It hurt.

But you forgive and focus on the blessing that they were when they were with you, and move on. No wailing and gnashing, no grumbling and blaming. It's a choice you make, and it's the only one that heals the hurt.

So there they were. I walked over and said "Hi," and mentioned in passing that I had just used the lawnmower they had purchased for the church (right before they left) just a few days ago, so they were still being a blessing to us. Then I walked back and enjoyed lunch.

I was conscious of his looking over at us as we ate, and every now and then I smiled back. They finished their meal and he walked over. He's in his upper 80's now, so feeble he walks with a cane, and after greeting everyone else, he turned to me and said, "I'm so sorry if I hurt you and the church."

He continued, taking my hand in a trembling handshake and with tears forming in the corners of his eyes he said, "Please believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you or the church. Please forgive me."

I looked into his eyes and told him he was our brother in Christ and we loved him and his wife. That I knew he would never mean to harm the church. That forgiveness was his before he had even left on that long ago Sunday.

He hadn't let go of my hand, and when he heard that, his grip grew stronger and his eyes grew bright. We hugged and he and his wife left.

You know, one of us had held onto a hurt for over ten years. It apparently had been something that was always there, like a weight that couldn't be laid down. But on a lazy Sunday afternoon, far from any church, unexpected grace showed up.

I LOVE that about our God.

“Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart.” 
― Corrie ten Boom

I Forgot Them All

I love this picture!

Maybe it's because I have witnessed this two times from the perspective of the man in the background, feeling the thrill of helping my sons take their first steps toward independence. They are men now, and one has experienced that same thrill.

As they learned to walk, not every one of their attempts was progress. I'm sure there were a lot of times when they sat back down, wobbled into things, or face-planted.

But here's the thing - I cannot remember a single failure. Not a ONE.

Why? Is it age? LOL, no I don't think so. I can remember a lot of moments.

So why can't I remember their failures?

Maybe it's because I've seen them walk. And run. For many years.

You may still be feeling the effects of a failure you had in your Christian faith. It may gnaw at you, rob you of your joy, or make you feel less loved by God.

Please read this carefully.

“I—yes, I alone—will blot out your sins for my own sakeand will never think of them again.: Isaiah 43:25

God doesn't remember those failures. He's the Father who rejoices to see His children living everyday. To see them draw on His strength and His love, facing life's challenges. Sure sometimes we fail, but what does God remember? That we got up and kept following His Son.

So live secure in the knowledge that God LOVES YOU and rejoices to see you living in Him.

Grace and peace,

David