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

Memorial Day

There's no way I can know. No way for most Americans to know. But that doesn't excuse us on Memorial Day.

Every year we get a chance to grasp the incredible - to appreciate what should for us be a deeply moving and abiding revelation.

Men and women, some barely having reached adulthood, gave their lives - with all that would have held for them - laughter, joy, legacies of family, of love - for us.

I can remember talking with my father, who served in the Pacific theater in WW2, about what he saw - about what he experienced. Most of the time he wouldn't say more than just "it was rough." But when the curtain he had created between him and the horrors came down, it was as if he was seeing ghosts.

When I think back, fragments of scenes he described scare me still.

When a terrifying night where Japanese attacked in wave after wave from the darkness - screaming "Banzai" with officers waving samurai swords ended, my father looked out over a field where "Japanese were stacked like cordwood, and body parts scattered like melons - like cornstalks."

"My friend and I were in a ditch, a little dip in the ground, trying to stay alive. A shell hit right next to him. I turned to look and all that was left was his legs."

New Guinea, Saipan, Mindanao, Okinawa.

Places on a map for me.

Scars that never healed for him. Scars...that...never...healed.

And he came back. Scarred, profoundly affected - but he came back.

Memorial Day is not for him, as much as he and all those who came back deserve our respect.

It's for his friend, and the others who gave "their last full measure of devotion."

For us. For our country.

Think on these things.

The Power of We

We finished tired and happy today. No, we didn't win a trophy.

But let me tell you what kind of class this is.

We fell way behind in the lap-run. Just wasn't a strength for us. On the second half though, Tyler took over and took off. He made up an enormous amount of the gap. But here's where it gets good.

Every child ran to the halfway point and joined Tyler in his race to the finish, all the while shouting encouragement. Because of that, Tyler got even faster and finished strong.

That's what people - big or small - who truly care about one another can do - they create a climate where what you thought could be accomplished is blown away and a new level of achievement takes place.

It's the power of "We."

I'm very proud of all the academic success I've seen from this class, but this morning may have just been my favorite moment all year.

"So how big did this place get?"

It's funny how an offhand comment or question can sometimes drive me into periods of really deep thought and reflection. That's really not a neighborhood I frequent much anymore, simply because the pressure of getting this done NOW is so much a part of my life. Between church and school there's just not much down time.

The question came from a friend while we were preparing meals to be delivered to people who live in the neighborhoods around the church. I could be there because it was a "snow day" for us at school, so I could help Bunny get the cooking done and then be able to show up at church hours earlier than normal. His job on base let him be there too. The roads were icy, and most people had hunkered down at home, but that didn't mean they didn't need a hot meal. So some of the folks at New Hope turned out including this young man.

He and his family had simply showed up one Sunday and quickly became a part of our church. Their heart for Christ and willingness to serve have just endeared them to everyone at New Hope. And their precious daughter is a sense of endless fascination and joy while we watch her scamper around. It's been a great blessing to have them within our church family.

So his question was delivered while he and I were filling clam shell containers with black-eyed peas and rice. Not a probe, just a curious question. But it's made me think.

I answered him like most pastors would do - with numbers and relating them to the size of our sanctuary and number of seats. It's possible I mentioned some of the factors that have caused those numbers to shrink - but I don't think so.

At any rate we kept filling the containers with food, and another New Hope family member came in with some rolls to add to the meal. Then in a little while another brother came in to help finish up "plating" the meal and help deliver them. And once we got them all filled, we left and delivered them all - 99 meals to people who needed them, and maybe reminding of the fact that God loves them and so do we.

Today as I was taking a look at Sunday's Bible study, the conversation came back to my memory. You have to understand - I've spent over 14 years at New Hope, preaching and teaching the Word, loving and praying for the people, and doing whatever it took at the time to see us love people and reach them with the love of God. There have been times I wanted to leave out of frustration with what was happening, and a couple times I could have left, but I knew absolutely it was God's will for me to move here and though it has been tough at times, He has never released me from this call. So here I am.

Look - we've had more people. Twice as many plus some. We've had some really great folks come and serve with us, and then move away or move on for one reason or another. God bless them all. I'll be forever grateful for what they meant to God's work at New Hope, and what they meant to me personally.

You don't serve with someone, spend time in each other's homes, do funerals for their fathers, mothers, and pets; you don't stand up with their children as they pledge their lives to God and each other; you don't laugh and cry with them - without a feeling of loss when they leave. Not sure many people understand that when you have prayed for a person as their pastor - calling out to God for them by name everyday for years, you grow kind of attached. So yeah...

But you have to understand this too. A pastor does not live in the past, he runs to the future, because that's where his prayers to the timeless God he prays to - lead him. I'm always praying for another chance to see God capture the heart of a child, of a teen, of an adult. I'm always hoping to be there when God mends a broken heart or when He sets one on FIRE for souls. That's what drives me - what keeps me excited about being a pastor.

And right now I'm seeing a rekindling of that fire in the people of New Hope. We may have less people, but we have a group who love, who serve, who give, who want to see the Kingdom come and His will be done right here in a small church in a small town.

"So how big did this place get is?" a question I hope to ask the Father one day. In person.

I really expect to be blown away.

Because Scripture tells me that God can do more than we can ask or even imagine. And I believe it with all my heart.

The Cost

Well, it's almost Christmas. The traffic is thicker and our patience is thinner. We're beginning to put one eye on the calendar and the other on the checkbook make sure that one doesn't get ahead of the other. That fear can begin to start - what if we don't have enough? Don't you miss those days as children when you never gave a thought to Christmas' cost? 

My family was not wealthy by any means, but neither were we poor. Like many, we lived from week to week, knew our banker or loan officer well, and while we never lacked, we never prospered. Yet every Christmas that I can remember came and went leaving me filled with the belief that I had been blessed. If I wanted a "Johnny 7 One Man Army Gun" badly enough, it seemed to find its way to the tree. If a "Model Motoring by Aurora" racetrack caught my fancy, well, apparently Santa knew that too. 

Even though I knew from my trips to the stores that such things had prices, I never concerned myself with the cost. 

Yet there was a cost - a sacrifice for my parents - every year. As I grew older, I'd catch snippets of conversations about the bills, and their struggle to pay them. "What are we going to do?", I'd hear my Mother say with worry and fear coloring her voice. "I don't know, but they are going to have Christmas," replied my Father, somewhat more hopefully, but still unsure. And off they'd go to the Western Auto, or to Sears, or to somewhere else they could buy toys and pay on time. 

Gradually I realized that my Christmas gifts cost them dearly. In time, in energy, in stress. My mother would cut corners - patch jeans, save pennies. My father would work overtime even after his regular swing shift. So somehow, every year there'd come Christmas. It came with a cost. 

It always has. 

That's why we have communion on Christmas Eve. To remember the cost.

My prayer is that as we celebrate the birth of Christ tomorrow, we remember that He came to pay the price for our sins.

Merry Christmas!

Whenever You Hold A Child

Christmas time always causes me to rummage around in my closet of memories. If you're like me, you've got stuff in there.

For me, back there past the 3rd grade report card I'm still grousing over from one December past, or the memory of the time the heat pump went out when I was 2200 miles away from a freezing Macon, GA, are memories upon memories of Christmases.

Some examples?

One Christmas when I was a child, I received a toy helicopter with a broken windshield. A note affixed read "sorry, dropped off the sleigh. - Santa". I come by my sense of humor genetically, obviously.

Another found Bunny and me walking away from a guitar store, not buying, but selling my guitar to pay for Christmas for the boys. We had smiles on our faces, thinking about how they were going to enjoy the toys. No regrets, only memories of their joy.

Really, most of my memories of Christmas revolve around children. I get excited every year to see the little ones as they begin to anticipate the day's coming. When I read the Christmas story, I remember what it's like to hold a newborn son. Joy floods your soul as you cradle this new life - full of promise, bathed in love, fresh from the arms of God. This time last year we were joyously but anxiously awaiting the birth of Aiden Brann Wilson, our grandson.

So when I read Zachariah's "song" and see this, it touches me.

And you, my child, "Prophet of the Highest,"
will go ahead of the Master to prepare his ways,
77Present the offer of salvation to his people,
the forgiveness of their sins.
78Through the heartfelt mercies of our God,
God's Sunrise will break in upon us,
79Shining on those in the darkness,
those sitting in the shadow of death,
Then showing us the way, one foot at a time,
down the path of peace. Luke 1:77-79

When I visualize this scene, I see a man holding his son. Maybe John was sleeping - you like them to get in that routine early. Or maybe he was looking up at his daddy, fist in his mouth, or with arms outstretched. I can see those dimples on the backs of his hands, and his little bitty toes. A baby, held tight in the arms of love.

Zachariah, unlike most anyone else, had a clear understanding from God directly about what the result of his son's life would be. That passage is God's announcement of just what the life of John the Baptist would mean.

But remember, Zach and Liz couldn't just kick back and not do the work of being John's parents - just the opposite. God's plan for John's life required Zachariah and Elizabeth to do what they only could do, and that is to "train up a child in the way he should go..." Before John could show anyone else the "path of peace", he had to be taught the "way".

Friends, when you hold a child, you are holding God's investment into the future of this world. You are holding one of His masterpieces of creation. Snug within your arms lies the continuation of God's purpose and plan.

That child you hold may be someone like John, who will show many people the way.
That child you hold may be someone like Mary, whose life will be used to change the world forever.

Your part in that isn't just to hold them, but to mold them into people who grow up to live for Jesus. Whenever you do, you are touching generations yet to come with His love.

So this Christmas, why not take time each night to read the Christmas Scriptures? Talk with your kids about God's love for the world expressed through Jesus. Let them pretend they are shepherds, wise men, Joseph and Mary. Let them enter into the wonder and experiences that surround Christ's birth.

Make their memories of Christmas include Jesus.

And give them a hug for Bunny and me.

Adam and Shonda, bring us Aiden please. :)

29,999 hits +1

There was a time, back in the days I was writing more, I used to check my blog's statistics often. I'd write a post and then check to see how many people read it and even where they came from. No, I can't tell exactly WHO reads it, just the general geographic area. Remember, I'm SBC, not NSA. My goal was to try to help people see the love of God reaching out to them in the everyday. So I'd check to see if it was reaching anyone at all.

Last week's sermon, though I suspect everyone else has forgotten it, is still pinging around in my brain. I guess you could say it reached - me. I've having trouble getting past the idea that we have no idea, really, of just how much God loves us. The trigger for that was pretty simple, really. Thinking about all the ways God has shown His love to me, I focused on the beauty of nature around me. My Mother invested in me a love of flowers in general and I've always loved wildflowers for their simple beauty. So as I thought - prayed, really - prayers of thanks to God for His gifts, it came to me.

God created gazillions of wildflowers, most of which few humans will never see. And yet, there they are and as the Bible says "Solomon in all his glory

I'm writing this on Black Friday, where this year's reports rolling in indicate that people are many times willing to suspend the love for neighbor in favor of fighting to get that just right gift for themselves or someone they love. They'll punch, craw, snatch, and grab just so they can prove their love.

In sharp contrast, God IS love.

Everything He does comes directly from His deep, deep love for humanity. 

I wish I could help everyone to see that. This week has been full of moments when His love was so real. Like this one. 

So dear reader, thank you. I'll try to do better at this writing thing which sits in the middle of a crazy busy life.