WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Glory

     One of my favorite movies of all time is Glory. Based on a true story, it details the history of the all-black 54th Massachusetts regiment in the Civil War whose commander was Colonel Shaw, a white officer, played by Matthew Broderick. At one point in the movie, a black soldier, John Rawlins (played by Morgan Freeman) is presented the honor of becoming a Sergeant Major. After receiving his stripes and sword, Rawlins leans close to Shaw and whispers, "I'm not sure I'm wanting this, Sir," to which Shaw, who was basically given no choice when appointed to be the commander, replies, "I know exactly how you feel."
     Realizing that most of you who read these ramblings of mine already know that I spent most of my previous existence as a college baseball coach, I feel the need to provide some background for those occasional desperate readers who are tuning in for the first time. For 33 years I coached baseball, the last 30 as a college coach. I retired from coaching this past May and began a new venture as a Sociology professor at a community college. In addition to that, I've been serving as a worship speaker on summer youth mission trips since 2010 and occasionally filling in at churches whose pastors were on vacation or sick on a given Sunday.
     For many years I have felt the nudge of God preparing me for possible pastoral ordination at some point. This past summer, while serving as worship speaker six nights in a row to a group of youths and adults on a mission trip in Puerto Rico, I began to sense the nudge turning into a push. When I was asked to provide indefinite pulpit supply for a local church this past September, the pushing ended and the calling emerged. God was telling me it was time for me to pursue ordination.
     During the ordination process that followed I was asked the question by the council, "Why do you need to be ordained?" I actually quoted the Glory scene and then explained, "I don't need to be ordained, I'm not even sure I want to be ordained. I just know God has called me to be ordained." The council appreciated that answer and even commented that it was preferable to someone who felt they needed or had to be ordained. Relieved I was.
     I wouldn't say I've been running from the call all these years. I would say I've been preparing for it. And now that God has called loud and clear, I'm reminded of the scene where Isaiah receives a specific calling from God in Isaiah 6:8-  "Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send?' and I said, 'Here I am, send me.'"
     The time is now. Answer the call I must. But that doesn't mean I'm qualified, confident, or giddy about it. I feel a little like Sergeant Major Rawlins. I'm not sure I'm capable. Which is a good way for me to feel, because I'm not. That means I will be totally dependent on God's strength instead of my own.
     Having been confirmed by the council, I will officially become ordained as a pastor on December 29 at the church where I've been filling in since September (Love my Calvary Baptist family). I have considered the possibility of placing security guards at each exit on ordination day, not to keep people out, but to keep me in, just in case I try to escape the calling in the middle of the service. "If I try to sneak past you, throw me back in and make me stay," I shall tell them.
     On second thought, maybe security guards won't be necessary, because there will be folks there who I could never run out on- including my wife, my three sons, and my parents. But most especially, I don't want to run from God. That didn't work out well for Jonah in the Bible and I don't fancy finding myself floating in the gastrointestinal juices of a humpback whale.
     When explaining to the council what I believe to be my calling, I told them I feel that God wants to use me to provide short term pastoral service to churches in transition. Churches who have had pastors leave suddenly for sickness, for another calling, or whatever reason. That's what He's calling me to do . . . for now. Only He knows what I'll be doing in the future. In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy and perform my ministry as a college instructor while also being available to churches who need someone to fill in for a period of time.
     I'm not sure I'm wanting this, Sir . . . but I'm willing to accept the call. And I pray that it will never be about me or bringing any glory to myself or any other person, but that it will always be about God's Kingdom and His Glory.

   
   

WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM- From the Mouths of Babes

     You many know from reading some of my Wacky posts in the past, I enjoy putting on my waders and trudging my way through the branch of the local river near my house on warm summer nights in hopes of fooling hungry catfish. You may also know that I am normally unaccompanied on these fishing treks- except for the crickets, frogs, otters, snakes, beavers, cranes, bats, raccoons, and bobcats who show up to keep me company. Okay, the bobcat only showed up once on the other side of the bank but I feel it's worth mentioning.

     Add to that the fact I occasionally land some sizable catfish and you can see why I'm drawn to the experience. And don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about the animals. It's their home turf, I'm the intruder.  

     Catfish aren't the only things I catch. Due to the inordinate amount of trees, branches, and sticks that work their way to the bottom of the river, I tend to sacrifice two or three hook and sinker set ups to the unseen depths of the river on each venture. Despite bringing extras, sometimes I simply give up and head back home, especially if I've already landed a fish or two. 

     Such was the case recently when I convinced my youngest son JT (20 years old now) to accompany me on a late summer evening of river wading and fishing. We ended up snagging more branches than fish, to the point where we finally gave up and laid out on a rock in the middle of the river and stared at the stars.

     It was a perfect summer night. The afternoon heat had given way to a warm and balmy evening. The sound of the flowing water deflecting off the rocks and gently slapping the boulder on which we rested was calming and tranquil. Soothing enough that suddenly we both felt the urge to bond with nature by going to the bathroom (number 1) but we decided against it. (Sanitary reasons). 

     Instead we laid back on the rock and gazed up at the twinkling stars while basking in their wonder. For the record, moments like these are few and far between for a father whose three sons have all grown up and flown the coop- a "Cats in the Cradle" kinda thing. My sons lead busy lives. Apparently they do important stuff all day and all night long. And though I have no doubt they love their dad, we just don't have near as many "moments" like we used to when they were boys. 

     So I, trying to suck all the moment I could out of the opportunity at hand, posed a question concerning the wondrous concert of stars at which we were peering. "I wonder why God made all those stars when they're so far away and don't really serve any purpose for us."

     At this point, I was expecting any number of responses from a college student who, among many of his traits, has been blessed with quick wit and an unoffensive sarcasm that is endearing without being annoying. With that in mind, I awaited his response, knowing full well I was bound to experience a chuckle or possibly even a belly clutching laugh. 

     Instead there was a long pause as neither of us spoke. Eventually he broke the silence. "I think I know why God made the stars," he began. "So that me and you could look up at them and talk about them." Then silence again. 

     No punch line. No sarcasm. Only simple, profound wisdom. Maybe he's figured it out better than any scientist ever could. Maybe God created the heavens simply so fathers and sons could look at them together. And mothers and daughters. And anybody else who would dare take the time to pause and gaze at their wonder. 

     Isaiah 40:26 says "Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them name by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing."

     They say from the mouths of babes come truth and wisdom. I don't know exactly who they are, but I think they may be right. Psalms 8:2 talks about God's strength within the mouth of babes, meaning that in a child's simple and innocent wonder lies the truest form of worship.
     The problem with babes is that they grow up too fast. At some point you wonder if the hour upon hour of parenthood all those years was worth it. Then one starry evening you find yourself lying on a giant rock in the middle of the river gazing up at the sky and a son utters words that cause a silent tear to run down your cheek. A joyful tear that knows it's all been worth it. Oh, from the mouth of babes . . . even when they're not babes anymore.




 

      

WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: In it For the Long Haul

     December, 1944. World War II. Belgium. German forces have attacked Allied forces- including numerous American units along the Western front. A little blip on the map town in Belgium. Bastogne. The U.S. 101st Airborne totally surrounded by Germans. Low on supplies and ammunition. Outgunned and outnumbered. Freezing to the bone with inadequate cold gear clothing. Miserable. Virtually hopeless situation.
     Not so fast. Virtually hopeless does not mean hopeless. When the German general sent a truce messenger with an offer of surrender that would "prevent needless bloodshed", it seemed the battle would end soon. But when handed the note, U.S. Brigadier General Anthony McAuliffe immediately uttered his famous reply- "Nuts!"
     I shall translate. In modern day terms, McAuliffe was basically saying- "Baloney" or "Hogwash" or "Go jump in a lake" or "Take it and shove it" or in the most respectful terms- "On the contrary, Sir, we're in it for the long haul". (The Allies held out and eventually prevailed).
     A while back, after a conversation with a friend, I began to think a lot about what it truly means to be in it for the long haul. I decided it means being committed to the end. It means permanence. It means unwavering. (Back to that conversation with my friend in a moment).
     The folks who built Mount Rushmore- the last of which died a week or so back- worked for fourteen years to complete the task. St. Peter's Basilica took 144 years to build. The Great Wall of China reportedly took over 2000 years to build. Definitely in it for the long haul.
     I once knew a fine older gentleman named Charles who was in it for the long haul, too. One evening after a fellowship dinner at our church, he and I were scrubbing some pots and pans in the fellowship hall kitchen. As we cleaned he glanced out toward the tables in the dining area and noticed his wife Sally wiping and cleaning tables. I could tell he was mesmerized looking at her. I asked him how long they had been married. Without taking his eyes off her he said to me- "Over sixty years, and I'm beginning to think this just might work out." It remains the most romantic phrase I have ever heard uttered. And Charles remained in it for the long haul until the day he died a few years back.
     Which leads me back to the conversation with my friend a while back. He was struggling with "the whole faith thing", as he called it. Discouraged and disappointed, he was contemplating giving up on the Lord due to a number of things that had happened in his life. I'm not in touch with my friend much anymore but my prayer is that he has remained in it for the long haul.
     Hebrews 6:11 reminds us to "show diligence to the very end, so that what you hope for may be fully realized" and James 1:12 says "Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him". In other words, stay in it for the long haul.
     Airlines consider any flights that last over seven hours to be a "long haul". The Christian faith journey is much longer, what with its turbulent ups and downs. With its rough spots and shifting. With its moments of anxiety and uncertainty. But we are promised blessings beyond measure if we buckle our seat belts and hang on for the eventual landing, at which time remaining in it for the long haul will be totally worth the arrival at our destination.
     Will we let discouragement and despair wear us down? Will we surrender and give in to the enemy who tells us it's not worth it to persevere? I think you know the answer . . . . Nuts.