The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

“Your child is following a mutant form of Christianity, and you may be responsible.”

That’s the first sentence in a recent on-line article from CNN that’s been emailed to me four times this week and seems to be making the rounds. The August 27 article tackles the topic of religion and teens from the viewpoint of Kenda Creasy Dean, a professor of theology at Princeton Theological Seminary and the author of “Almost Christian.” Her book claims that lots of parents and churches are unwittingly passing on a watered-down, self-serving, imposter strain of Christianity to our kids. Our children today see God as a “divine therapist” whose chief goal is to boost our self esteem. God simply wants us to do good and feel good. Researchers for the book call it moralistic therapeutic deism. And Dean says, “If this is the God they’re seeing in church, they are right to leave us in the dust.”

According to the book, Dean’s research included in-depth interviews with more than 3,300 American teenagers between 13 and 17, and found that most who call themselves Christian are indifferent and inarticulate about their faith. Dean says three out of every four teenagers in this country claim to be Christian, but fewer than half practice their faith and only half deem it to be very important at all.

I wonder if those numbers wouldn’t also accurately reflect the beliefs and practices of the adults in our pews.

I haven’t read the book. I’ve only read this article. At least five times now. And the one sentence that keeps coming back to me, the one quote I can’t get out of my head, I think, sums up one of the major problems — if not the number one problem — in our churches and our church programs.

About a third of the way through this article, Dean is quoted as saying, “If teenagers lack an articulate faith, it may be because the faith we show them is too spineless to merit much in the way of conversation.”

Amen.

The good news of salvation in Christ is not a “gospel of niceness” in which faith is simply doing good and not ruffling feathers. The Christian call is to take risks, to witness to the world, to sacrifice and serve others; to die to self and to live in a way that is radically — dangerously — different from the surrounding culture.

Preachers preach safe messages that will bring in more people and/or keep more people from leaving. Elders and other church leaders promise security and comfort and happiness at their congregations. We’re not challenging our people. We’re not teaching them or showing them that following Christ — living in the way of Christ and in the manner of Christ — means doing something to fix what’s broken in the world. Restore something. Cleanse something. Change everything. We don’t call our people to anything that’s bigger than ourselves. If all we’re doing is asking our people to sit in a pew, write a weekly check, and then allow the church to work hard to make them physically and spiritually and emotionally comfortable, we’re guilty of adding to the problem. We’re guilty of teaching and practicing a mutant form of Christianity.

We need to stop telling and showing our teens — and all our adults for that matter — that Christianity is all about following rules and drawing lines and adhering to boundaries. We need to immediately cease telling our members — and the world — that it’s OK to worship in that way over there but not this way in here, or it’s allright to sing that song in that room but not this song in this room, that there’s nothing wrong with worshiping God in that style on this day but not this style on that day. We can’t keep telling our kids that it’s OK for women to pray or read Scripture in our living rooms and classrooms but not in our worship assemblies. We need to stop this vain protecting of our comfort zones and comfort rules by insisting that weddings and funerals are not worship services. When you tell me that an assembly in the worship center in which the gathered men and women sing songs of praise and thanksgiving to God, prayers are offered to God in the name of Jesus, Holy Scripture is read, and a sermon is preached from the Bible is not a worship assembly, it makes no sense. Our kids are not stupid. They see right through this stuff. And I don’t blame them.

That’s not Christianity.

Biblical Christianity is bold. It’s huge. It turns whole towns upside down. It dramatically changes lives. It’s a call to rescue and save. It’s more about what’s happening in your community than what’s happening inside your church building. It’s more about what you do than what you believe. It’s more about how you live than how you sing. It’s about serving; it’s not about being served. It’s about dying in the name and the manner of our Lord. It’s all about doing things that make absolutely no earthly sense because God in Christ Jesus has broken through the barriers of time and space to deliver us from an eternity in hell. We don’t explain the faith; we courageously live the faith.

Which message is your church preaching and practicing? Is it a mutant Christianity of arbitrary rules and comfort? Or is it a Scriptural Christianity that goes out on a limb to make a massive difference in the lives of hurting and sick men and women in your community? Does your church love and serve unconditionally or does it model love and service with exceptions and fine print?

If you’re telling the teens in your church they can clap during the songs just as long as they don’t clap too loudly, they’re going to leave. And I don’t blame them.

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I need to apologize to Jerry K: you’re right, Cliff Lee is not the savior of the Rangers. I need to retract a statement I’ve made to Whitney: no, watching Lee pitch is not like it used to be watching Nolan Ryan pitch. Sorry. I know Lee says it’s his back. I know he’s getting treatment. But he’s started ten games now for Texas. And the Rangers are 3-7 in those starts. If the playoffs began today, I’d go with C. J. Wilson and maybe even Tommy Hunter in the opener over Lee. Hunter showed more of those gritty guts last night. David Murphy and Nelson Cruz made some unbelievable catches. And the Yankees are taking care of the A’s.

Peace,

Allan

It’s been a full eleven days since my last post. Sorry. Thank you. Let’s get caught up.

(As always, click on the images to get the full size)

We had a fantastic couple of days at LTC over the April 2-3 weekend. Lots of gold, silver, and bronze brought back to Legacy from the DFW Hyatt. My favorite part of Leadership Training for Christ is going to as many of the events as possible and cheering on all our kids. Encouraging them. Telling them what a great job they did. Recognizing in them the great gifts they have from God and seeing in them all the wonderful ways our Father will use them to his eternal glory. I love laughing with them and patting them on the back and hugging them after a job well done. Our teachers and volunteers do a great job with LTC here at Legacy. And the kids always respond with award-winning performances.

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Our four-day Resurrection Renewal was a God-glorifying, Church-edifying, Gospel-verifying event that started Easter Sunday morning with 1,200 men, women, and children lifting our hearts and voices to God in praise and thanksgiving for the empty tomb. Four days of participating in the Resurrection accounts from Holy Scripture. Four days of basking in the power of the Resurrection and gaining new strength in our Resurrection hope.

Two brand new souls experienced their own resurrections Wednesday evening as they were buried with Christ and raised to walk in newness of eternal life. Five of our brothers and sisters publicly confessed their sins and asked for the prayers of their church family as they declared their own new beginnings.

I’m so proud of my Legacy family. We baked cookies and served refreshments. We greeted visitors and held doors. We organized and taught fun interactive children’s classes. We invited our friends. We wore empty tomb T-shirts and passed out flyers. We were/are the kind of church family — the kind of Resurrection Community — to which anyone would want to belong.

And it’s not over.

I’m so encouraged by the conversations I’m overhearing in the hallways during and following our Resurrection Renewal. We’re thinking and talking about the right things. Our attention at Legacy is shifting from an inward to an outward focus, from one of being served to one of serving others. This is just the start. We’re going to keep inviting our friends to Legacy. We’re going to keep talking about the Resurrection. We’re going to keep paying more attention to the lost than to the saved. And we’re going to remember that the Resurrection is not simply something we sing about or teach. It’s not something we merely believe. The Resurrection is who we are.

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By the way, many of you have been asking about the three-minute video we showed at the end of the sermon Easter Sunday morning. The audio was from a sermon preached by S. M. Lockridge called “The Seven-Way King.” The video images were produced and edited by Albert Martin. Jeff Walling has used the video on several ocassions at WinterFest and the Tulsa Workshop. You can check out the video again by clicking here.

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For the second time in three years, Whitney wound up winning the annual Stanglin Bracket Racket. She correctly picked Duke to win it all and edged me out by a total of six points in our family college basketball pool.

I kept hoping and waiting for the Hoosiers miracle. I kept wishing for Shooter to show up and coach the Butler Bulldogs into a picket fence play with Jimmy Chitwood / Gordon Hayward hitting the game-winner at the buzzer. Only in the movies, I guess.

Whitney also, last January, correctly predicted the winner and the final score of the Super Bowl. Seriously! She not only chose the double-digit underdog Saints to beat the Colts, she picked the exact final score! We’re taking her to Vegas tomorrow. Or maybe to the QT to at least buy a couple of lottery tickets.

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We got to see lots of old friends this past Saturday night at the annual Oklahoma Christian University Alumni and Fundraising dinner here at Legacy. It was the biggest North Texas dinner to date. Tons of money raised and pledged for the new Bobby Murcer Athletics center and for scholarships to deserving DFW kids. The highlight for me was catching up with my old Delta buddies and reliving our quests for All-Sports trophies and Spring Sing laughs. What OC event would be complete without a Delta Alumni photo?

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Whitney and Valerie were in Glenrose for a youth retreat. Carrie-Anne stayed in bed. So Carley accompanied me early, early, early Sunday morning to the Red Lot on the northeast side of Texas Stadium to witness in person the implosion of that iconic landmark. We woke up at 4:00am, got there at 5:15, (we handed the parking lot attendant $25, he handed us four boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese) and worked our way to the front of the barricades to hear — and feel — the concussions of the dynamite and suck the concrete and steel dust into our lungs.

I still can’t really imagine that Texas Stadium doesn’t exist anymore. My aunt LouAnn took me to my first ever Cowboys game in that building when I was twelve. I saw Drew Pearson’s consecutive-games-with-a-catch streak end in a close win over the Patriots there with Paul Barron. I wore my blue Roger Staubach jersey. Paul politely asked me to stop yelling so much through my Cowboys popcorn container which doubled as an effective megaphone. I think the people in front of us were giving us looks. When I was 15, Mike Cunningham and I got thrown out of an SMU-Texas Tech game there for dropping ice cubes off the second deck. When I was 16, Todd Johnson and I froze to death there in a miserable January Cowboys playoff loss to the Rams. I remember a two-touchdown fourth quarter performance by Chuck McSwain there in a pre-season win over the Dolphins. I remember a wild Sunday night shootout with the Raiders with five other high school friends. We jeered Marc Wilson and I ate too many bugles. And I was in the stands when a rookie Troy Aikman outpassed Dan Marino in a close loss in ‘89.

I was also blessed to roam the sidelines, pressboxes, and underground tunnels at Texas Stadium for four seasons as a radio reporter for KRLD and AM 990. I ate my meals across the hall from the locker room. I ticked off Bill Parcells and made Terrence Newman laugh. I squeezed through the crowds to interview quarterbacks and linebackers and enjoyed leisurely conversations with offensive linemen and kickers. I rode elevators with movie stars and singers. I met Tex Schramm there. I shared work space with the giants in the sports media industry, some of them my heroes of the past and present. I was there when a Thanksgiving Day halftime performer caught on fire. And I was part of the standing ovation when Emmitt Smith passed Walter Payton.

Even after watching it completely collapse into a pile of debris yesterday, I still can’t really imagine that Texas Stadium is gone. I saw Tom Landry coach there. I saw Staubach throw and Tony run. I can still see the end zone scoreboard flash “Martinized!” after a huge Harvey Martin sack. I can still hear Tanya Tucker’s “When I Die” after every Cowboys touchdown. And I can still hear Tommy Loy’s trumpet playing the national anthem.

Thank you, Carley, for going with me and for screaming, “That was awesome!” at the top of your lungs when Texas Stadium was demolished. Forgive your dad for not feeling the same way.

Peace,

Allan

I’m way too young to have a 17-year-old.

Our oldest daughter, Whitney Leigh-Anne, turns 17 today. Actually, I’ve been kidding her all week that she really doesn’t turn 17 until 10:15 tonight. That’s what time she was born, after 17 hours of labor for Carrie-Anne, at South Austin Medical Center.

Since that long, long Wednesday in 1993, Whitney has brought such joy to our lives. She laughs at anything. She’s ultra-competitive at everything. She wins nine out of every ten games of Connect Four she plays against anybody. And she can go through a deck of cards in Solataire in about four minutes. She sings We Are the Champions, emphasizing the “no time for LOSERS!” phrase at the end of the chorus everytime she beats me at backgammon. She’s hilarious. She lives to play games. And she lives to watch games. It doesn’t matter if it’s the Super Bowl or a Western Louisiana and Idaho State basketball game, she watches every minute. And cares deeply about who wins and loses.

And she’s taught us so much over the past 17 years. How to love life. How to see the positive in every situation and everybody she meets. Whitney doesn’t see skin color or clothes or social status or money or cars or zip codes or hair styles. Everybody’s exactly the same in her eyes. When she was in sixth grade she was assigned to write a report about a black person she admired. She came home confused. I tried giving her some examples. I mentioned Dallas Mavericks guard Michael Finley, her favorite player at the time. She looked right at me and said, “He’s black???”

I love that about my Whitster.

Through every surgery, every stretch on crutches and in wheelchairs, every doctor’s appointment, she remains amazingly upbeat and positive. Nothing fazes her. I think she likes the attention, yes. But people give her the attention because she’s so sweet.

I had lunch with her today at school. Took her some Chick-Fil-A. The eight-piece Number Five with a Dr Pepper. The girl sitting across from Whitney shook my hand, introduced herself, and said, “You’re so lucky to have a daughter like Whitney. We love her.” The one sitting next to her said almost the same thing. These girls are varsity basketball players, varsity volleyball players. And they ask Whitney to sit with them. One of them texted her a Happy Birthday message at 7:00 this morning. They like her. Whitney makes them laugh. And I think God’s working through her to show these girls what a Spirit-indwelled person looks like.

Whitney blesses us beyond what I can even imagine to write here. I believe she’s a blessing to everybody who comes in contact with her. And I love her with everything I’ve got.

Happy Birthday, Whit.

Dad

My kids run to me all the time. They run to me when I get home from work in the afternoons. They scream from upstairs and from the living room, from the dining room table and the computer room. Wherever they are they yell, “Daddy!” And they usually come running. Wow. I love that.

They run to me when they want to go to Sonic to get a Dr Pepper float. When they want to play, they come to me. When they want to spend the night at a friend’s house, they run to me. When they’ve learned a new trick or made a good grade, when they have a difficult question or a problem at school, my daughters come to me.

But when they get hurt…..

…they go to their mother.

When they skin their knee, they go to their mother. When they’re sick, they go to their mother. When they have a fight with a friend, when they don’t make the team, when they smash a finger in a kitchen drawer, they run to mom.

Because they know how I am. “Suck it up, girl! Let’s go! What? Are you crying? Come on! I’ve had bigger scratches on my eyelid! Walk it off! Rub some dirt on it! What’s the matter with you?”

When children are hurt they go to their mother. Physical pain. Emotional pain. When it’s deep and it’s real, they go to mom. Because mother will meet you with a Band-Aid. Mother has a hug. Mother wipes away all the tears. Mother will just hold you and kiss you and carry you. Mother always knows exactly what you need. A mother’s love is warmer. It’s more sensitive. It’s more in tune. When you’re really hurting, you need your mother.

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.” ~Isaiah 66:13

Have you ever pictured God as a mother? God does.

When God’s people are at their lowest — the temple’s destroyed, the holy city is in ruins, they’re scattered in exile, they’re experiencing deep separation, pain, loneliness, and despair; when the only memories they have are bad and the only future they have is bleak — God says, “I will hold you and comfort you. Just like a mom. I have borne you and I will love you forever. Just like a mom.”

In Isaiah 49, God’s people say, “The Lord has forsaken me. The Lord has forgotten me.” And God replies, “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!”

And that’s reason for joy.

“Shout for joy, O heavens; rejoice, O earth; burst into song, O mountains!
For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion
on his afflicted ones.” ~Isaiah 49:13

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An emailed comment from a loyal reader regarding last week’s picture of the 24 elders from Revelation 4-5 casting their crowns down at the heavenly throne: “Great comments, awful picture. Old white guys as elders? Really?”

OK, that’s fair. You got me. I’ll forever stand on the biblical picture of elders being old(er) and guys. There’s no debating that. Ever. But you’re absolutely right on the absurdity of all 24 elders being white. That doesn’t hardly capture the revelation of Christ as these elders representing ”every tribe and language and people and nation.” Not at all.

Sorry. Good catch.

If anyone can email me a picture or a link to a picture which represents the elders around the throne as from every color and language and nation, please do.  

Peace,

Allan

The Gospel is all about changing places. It’s about substitution. Someone taking my place. Me filling in for someone else. Christ paying a debt he didn’t owe. Me bearing the burdens that belong to my brother. An exchange. A switch-out.

The Gospel is this way because our God is this way.

God is love. And love — real love, intimate love, liberating love, gospel love — is all about this exchange.

Think about your small group that meets Sunday night. Think of the emotionally wounded person in that group. There is no way to listen to and love that person and stay completely emotionally put-together yourself. As you listen to him and attend to him, he will probably begin to feel stronger and better. But that won’t happen without you being emotionally drained yourself. There’s an exchange. And it takes its toll.

Parenting is the same way. We sacrifice and give and serve in order that our children may live. We decrease so they will increase.

God’s salvation through Christ works the same way. He submits to man. He leaves his heavenly home. He serves. He suffers and sacrifices. He takes on shame to give us glory. He dies so we can live.

John Stott wrote:

The essence of sin is we human beings substituting ourselves for God, while the essence of salvation is God substituting himself for us. We put ourselves where only God deserves to be; God puts himself where we deserve to be.

If we’ll open our eyes and look for it, we’ll see that the exchange is happening all around us. We live in this exchange. Praise God for the great exchange!

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Busy weekend. Thanks to J and Laurie Bailey, we were able to watch the Rangers at the Ballpark Saturday night with their sweet family and some other guests. Another Rangers loss in which Texas scored only one run. But this one was a little easier to take since we were in J’s super suite directly behind home plate. Whitney, of course, hung on every pitch, while Valerie and Carley took books to read and mostly laid around inside the suite, reading and eating cotton candy. They even managed to get one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies on the big screen TV. How embarrassing. Thanks, Baileys. We had a blast.

We dropped the two little girls off at Three Mountain Camp just south of Lake Whitney yesterday afternoon. This is Carley’s first camp, so Carrie-Anne got a little weird. Thinking about Carley sometimes makes me a little weird, too. Two weeks ago Carley finally jumped up in the hallway at home and hit the top of the bedroom door frame with her hand. She’s been trying for over year. Now she’s hit it. And now she jumps up and hits the top of every door frame in the whole house, everywhere she goes. Just like I did when I was her age. She’s big now, right? No more little kids. They’re all able to hit the top of the door. I suppose the ceiling’s next. I think Valerie’s still a year away.

Thanks to Kipi Ward who’s managing that 3rd-4th grade cabin down there for taking and posting some pictures.

So, it was just the three of us last night: C-A and Whitney and me. Just like it was for almost four years. We got back from Three Mountain just in time to take in a late night concert in Dallas. I know, Gene Paul, that singing “Sharp Dressed Man” with 25,000 people isn’t the same as singing “Hey, Jude” with 80,000 people. OK, you’re right, it’s not even close. But we had a great time.

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Yesterday was Aaron and Jennifer Green’s last day here at Legacy. This really stinks. They’re being forced to re-locate to Katy, Texas in the Houston area. They fought it. But, now they’re gone. Aaron and Jennifer are those kind of people that, as a preacher, you really, really, really appreciate. Jennifer was up here at least two or three days a week, every week, for as long as I’ve been here, working in and for our children’s ministry. Aaron jumped immediately into the middle of our move to weekly Small Groups Church, serving on the planning committee and co-leading his own groups during both cycles. He also plays a vital role in the leadership of our young families class here. They both work tirelessly behind the scenes and show up for everything. Man, they’re leaving a big hole here at Legacy. It was a tough day around here because of that. But they’re going to bless a lucky group of Christians somewhere down in Katy.

We love y’all, Greens. We send you to Katy with our love and our prayers and our appreciation. We send you with the grace and peace of our Lord and Savior, Christ Jesus. We send you to the disciples in Katy to bless them and encourage them, as you have us. And we send you to join them in redeeming the world back to our God.

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There are 55 days left until the Cowboys kick off the NFL season. Probably less than 55 minutes left until Jerry Wayne holds another press conference about another event coming to his new stadium. But we’re concerned with the start of football season here. And we’re counting down the days with our Red Ribbon Review, a look at the second-best players in Cowboys history, according to jersey number. Before today’s #55, we’ll catch up with yesterday’s #56.

Eugene Lockhart. “Mean Gene the Hittin’ Machine.” A sixth-round draft pick in 1984, Lockhart became the first rookie to ever start for the Cowboys at middle linebacker when Bob Breunig was lost halfway through the season due to injury. Lockhart stayed there for six more seasons and became one of the very few bright stars on some pretty bad teams. He made over a hundred tackles in every season but his broken leg year of 1987, and still holds several team records for tackles, including the single season total of 222 he set in 1989. That was the year Lockhart racked up double digit tackle numbers in all 16 games, including a team-record 16 stops against the Cards. That was also Jimmy Johnson’s 1-15 first year in Dallas. So Lockhart’s accomplishments mainly went unnoticed. He was traded to the Patriots following the 1990 season for a number one draft pick that turned into Russell Maryland. As he was cleaning out his locker at Valley Ranch, Lockhart was heard to say, “It’s a cold business — a cold, cold business. And it’s even colder in New England.”

Today’s #55 is another Cowboys middle linebacker, Robert Jones. Jones was Dallas’ first round pick in 1992, the 24th player chosen overall, and the first from East Carolina University to ever be taken in the first round. He played only four years for the Cowboys. Just 56 total games. But they were the four glory years of the Cowboys’ dynasty that decade. Jones was named the NFC Rookie of the Year in ‘92. And the Cowboys went to four straight NFC Championship Games, winning three conference titles and three Super Bowls. He went on to play for the Rams and the Dolphins. But for four years, he was the defensive signal-caller on the NFL’s best team.

Peace,

Allan

I’m still not finished with that second desert temptation of Jesus. Two more things. One today and one more tomorrow. If Jesus would have jumped off the roof of the temple and allowed God’s angels to save him in front of all those crowds, it would have been quite the spectacle. Amazing. Incredible. Wow.

Do it again.

People would have kept showing up every week, every day, if Jesus were going to jump. And that would have created a community of spectators, a group of people who came for the show. They would be there faithfully. Every time the doors were opened. And they would watch. They would sit back and watch. And then they’d go to lunch and talk about what they saw. They’d critique this week’s jump. How did it make you feel? What did you like or not like about this week’s jump? A community of watchers. Spectators.

Might that be one of the reasons Jesus said “No”? Creating spectators is not The Jesus Way.

I believe there’s a real temptation to try to dazzle our people in our worship centers on Sunday mornings. More culturally-relevant songs, more culturally-desired audio and video presentations, a more culturally-acceptable pace and tempo and environment. If we’re not careful, we’ll create a community of spectators, a generation—or several—of not disciples but spiritual couch potatoes. We’ll find ourselves filling up our bleachers and trying to give our people a show. Or an experience. I think that’s a very real temptation today.

And that’s just the opposite of The Jesus Way.

Jesus invites his disciples to participate, never to just watch. He invites us to participate in the worship and to join him in the mission. He sends us out together in groups of two and groups of 12 with his power and with his authority to drive out demons and cure diseases and to preach the Kingdom of God and to heal the sick (Luke 9). When he feeds the five thousand in Luke 9 Jesus gives the bread and the fish to his disciples and has them serve it to the people. Participate. Get involved. Don’t just sit there.

The Jesus Way is to get up and get busy. Everybody. Nobody just watches. We minister as we’re ministered to. We care as we’re cared for. We forgive as we’re being forgiven. We love as we’re being loved. Together. That’s The Jesus Way.

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Thanks to Dale Bankhead and Brian Kendall (we’ve got to stop calling him Brittany’s husband!) Whitney and I got to take in Tuesday’s Rangers-Astros game in some sweet seats in the Ballpark. Ian Kinsler went deep in his first two at bats. Millwood and Jennings combined on a nice five-hitter. And Pudge Rodriguez tied Pudge Fisk for the all-time major league lead in games started as a catcher. (We gave Rodriguez a standing O when he hit his solo shot to cut the Texas lead to 6-1. I doubt he would have received the same level of love if his blast would have meant something for Houston.) A Lemon Chill and a new Josh Hamilton jersey for the Whitster, ballpark nachos for me, a big Rangers win and a great daddy-daughter night for both of us.

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Our Little Middle, Valerie, has been down in San Antonio all week on a Junior High trip to minister to urban children in the downtown parts of the Alamo City. We haven’t spoken to her since they left Sunday afternoon. But we’re able to keep up with her through the miracle of Lance’s blog. (It’s a miracle he’s actually updating it three or four times a day.) What a joy to log on and see Val, from 200 miles away, reading with little kids, teaching a Bible story with puppets, and giving piggy back rides. She’s so good with little children. She has a heart for that kind of thing. I think our God is going to use her to touch a lot of people in her lifetime.

Wednesday, February 17, 1993. South Austin Medical Center. 10:15 pm. Whitney Leigh-Anne came into the world and into our lives kicking and screaming and needing some extra oxygen. I was able to calm her down in those first couple of minutes by singing “Love Me Do” and “Eight Days a Week” softly to her in the delivery room. And I’ll never forget looking for the very first time into those bluer than blue eyes. So blue. And so beautiful. She had a huge ragged mop of dark black hair. And those little crooked toes. And it all knocked my socks off.

How amazing to have this innocent, vulnerable, newborn infant. How terrifying that she depends on me for her very survival. How humbling to realize I’m responsible to her and to our God for bringing her up in Christ Jesus.

Whitney is my sports nut. Big time. She was hitting plastic baseballs off a plastic tee with a plastic bat when she was two. She was eating popcorn and chips and hot sauce and watching football games with me by about the same age. She throws like a boy (Yes!). She loves basketball. She watches ESPN News for 15 minutes every morning. She wants nothing but sports jersies and posters for birthdays and Christmas. We can’t play enough air hockey and backgammon together. And she argues with me about the Cowboys almost daily.

And I love that about Whitney. It really connects me to her.

But what I really admire about Whitney, and the thing I’m most grateful for with her, is her sweet spirit and positive attitude. Whitney is an angel. She’s had to overcome, and is still working to overcome, so many difficulties in her young life. Multiple surgeries. Subsequent therapies. Physical limitations. Hearing aids. Glasses. Fine motor skills. Her list goes on and on. But through it all, somehow, Whitney maintains an incredibly upbeat attitude. She’s never down. The doctors’ appointments and medical reports never drag her down. She keeps that same smile on her face and that same positive attitude day after day after day. She’s such a blessing. She’s endured so much pain in her life, especially with her legs and her feet, and yet she’s generally much more concerned with her sisters’ feelings than with her own.

We tell her all the time that God is going to use the trials she’s enduring now to produce through her amazing things for his Kingdom. We tell her all the time that she’ll be able to minister to other people in ways that I never will because she can personally relate to so many things that other people are going through. As Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 1, she’ll be able to comfort others with the same comfort she’s received from God. She’ll be better equipped to encourage others because of the ordeals she’s facing every day.

I see our loving Father in Whitney. I see him in her trusting spirit and her faithful dependence on him. I see him already using her to teach others around her—namely her dad—about keeping our eyes on the things that are unseen, the eternal things, not the seen things that are temporary.

I can’t wait to see what other huge, wonderful things our God is going to do through the Whitster.

Happy Birthday, girl. I love you.

Dad

Ever seen a burning bush?

If you ever did, how would you respond?

How about the clear, unambiguous call of God to his Church — to us! — to apply the holy words of Scripture to our lives, to be transformed more and more into the image of Christ, to connect with each other and to minister to one another and to serve each other like family, and to take the good news of God’s mercy and grace and forgiveness into our neighborhoods and communities?

That’s a huge burning bush! That’s an Aggie bonfire towering in front of us, crackling with possibilities and blazing with the fire of God’s call!

The spiritual leaders of the Legacy church body, the elders and ministers, are all firmly convinced that the proper response to this eternal inferno of God’s commission is best made in weekly Small Groups Church.

Last year’s first cycle of SGC began with 692 men, women, and children and ended last month with 778. And we certainly anticipate bigger things in this next cycle that starts in April. With an average of 21 people in each of our 37 groups, there’s no room to grow. We need every former Co-Leader and at least 30 others to sign up this Sunday. If you already have your co-leading partner, please sign up. If you want to Co-Lead but you’ve not yet secured a partner, sign up anyway. There’s time to find your buddy. We need 100 total Co-Leaders to lead 50 groups when we start up again in April.

That’s the challenge. That’s the call. To you.

Now, what’s your objection?

“Nobody will follow me.” Abraham’s servant said that, and the Lord’s angel told him, God will make it happen (Genesis 24:6-7).

“I’ve tried it before and failed.” Moses said that, and the Lord said, it’s not about you, it’s about God (Exodus 3:12-4:17).

“It’s too hard for me.” Isaiah threw that excuse out there and he was promptly told, God sees and controls the big picture (Isaiah 6:11-13).

Jeremiah said, “But I’m not a good leader.” The Lord told Jeremiah, God is with you and will provide for you (Jeremiah 1:8).

Ezekiel was brutally honest and said, “I don’t want to go.” The answer came back over and over again, with God, there’s nothing to fear (Ezekiel 2:6).

“I’m too old.” That was Zechariah. The angel replied, God will give you signs and proof of his presence (Luke 1:19-20).

Mary said, “I’ve never done this before.” She was told, nothing is impossible with God (Luke 1:37).

Paul said, “I’ve got a rotten past.” Christ told him, God is empowering you for his mission (Acts 22:21).

Ananias offered, “It’s too risky, it’s too dangerous for me,” only to be told, God is taking care of the details (Acts 9:15).

See, the deal is that we usually view God’s call and God’s will and God’s plan for me as all about me. This task is too big for me. It’s beneath me. I might make someone mad. I’m too busy. I’m not gifted. I’m not qualified. I don’t know how. I’ve never done that before.

And God says, you’re right. But it has nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with whether or not you think you can handle it. God says, ”I AM.” I am qualified. I am powerful. I am the God who’s doing this, not you. I just want you to jump into it. I just need you to trust me. Believe in me. Allow me to do this with you and through you for my purposes and my Kingdom.

The call is right in front of you. How do you respond? With every reason and excuse as to why you can’t or shouldn’t act? With reasons and excuses as to why you can’t go to Egypt? Or by throwing yourself completely into his mission, wholeheartedly, in total faith and trust, no reservations, brakes off, full steam ahead, no looking back? By hurling yourself into the project, confident in our Lord who promises to deliver?

Small Groups Church is messy. You put a thousand people in each other’s homes and in each other’s lives, it’s messy. It’s difficult. It’s a real challenge. It’s full of suprises. It’s full of hospital visits and funerals, soccer games and car pools, different dynamics and diverse discussions, some extra dusting and vacuuming.

And lots and lots of wonderful stories.

I beg you to jump into the middle of it — or at the front of it — as a Co-Leader at Legacy. Jump head first, all the way. And allow our Father to do amazing things with you and through you for his people within this church family.

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We just got home a little while ago from Scottish Rite in Dallas. They took Whitney’s cast off. (Shew-wee!) Dr. Herring grabbed a pair of pliers and pulled the four-inch pin out of her heel. (Yech!) And then he pronounced her perfectly well and the reconstructive surgery a smashing success. She’ll be weaning herself off the walker as she regains strength and flexibility over the next couple of weeks. Praise God for her healing! Thank you so much for your prayers, your cards, your calls, your visits, all the wonderful ways you’ve encouraged and blessed our oldest daughter over the past two months. God has showered us with his love through you, our dear friends.

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Last thing: I’ll never forget — ever — a telephone conversation I had with my sister, Rhonda, back on Super Bowl Sunday 1994. It was about 2:00. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but in the middle of the conversation, I told her I was skipping church to go to a Super Bowl party at a friend’s house.

She was genuinely surprised. “You’re skipping church to watch the Super Bowl?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re kidding.”

I said, “Rhonda, come on! You know me!”

And she said, “I thought I did.”

That was the last time I ever skipped church to watch a TV show. I urge you to make the same switch in your lifestyle and in the message you send your kids and your friends starting this weekend. Please don’t skip church this Sunday night to watch a TV show.

Peace,

Allan

Whitney was released from the hospital at 1:00 Saturday afternoon. Wheelchair. Walker. Pain meds. Lots of cards and balloons. By 5:30 I had her in a luxury suite at Texas Stadium, getting ready for the last Cowboys game ever at their historic football home. Thanks to Doug Deere, a good friend here at Legacy, Whitney and I were able to take in the excitement of the game, the history of the evening, and the time spent together doing something we both love: watching the Cowboys.

As most of you know, Whitney’s a huge Cowboys fan. She doesn’t remember any of the Super Bowls of the ’90s — she was born 18 days after Super Bowl XXVII — but she knows enough to be huge fans of Troy, Emmitt, and Michael. Of course, she adores all the current crew (I keep telling her she’ll grow out of it) and knows everything about every one of them. She ate up every moment of our night together. And she made her usual lame excuses for Romo and Terrell Owens and Jerry Wayne throughout.

Glen and Karen and Crystal and Lexi, Doug’s great friends who actually own the suite, were outstanding hosts. What a great family. They pampered Whitney and catered to her every need. Plenty of Ruffles and Dr Pepper. A corner seat down front. And somehow Glen even arranged to have two Cowboys cheerleaders come up to the suite during the third quarter and take pictures with Whitney and sign her cast. (She would have been more impressed had it been Brady James or Anthony Henry. I didn’t notice them doing anything on the field that would have kept them from coming up for a quick visit.) With all of that PLUS!!! Dallas getting to within two points twice in the final four minutes and those huge gut-wrenching, record-breaking runs that sealed it at the end, I don’t think Whitney blinked for five hours.

Thank you, Doug! Thank you Glen! Thank you, everybody in the suite.

My interest in the event was in recalling my childhood and early adult memories made at Texas Stadium. My first ever Cowboys game with my Aunt LouAnn against the Saints when I was eleven. Paul Baron taking me there to see Steve Grogan and the Patriots, the man sitting in front of us asking Paul to tell me to stop cheering so loudly. A Sunday night game against the Raiders with my high school friends. A high-profile Thanksgiving Day duel between Glenn Carano and Chicago’s Vince Evans with my whole family. A freezing, sleeting, Saturday afternoon playoff loss to the Rams with Todd Johnson two months after I got my drivers license. A loss to the Dolphins in 1989 with my college buddies, but a free dinner from Mike Osburn because Aikman threw for over 300 yards (the last time I bet on anything).

I’m blessed to have had a mediocre broadcasting career that allowed me for almost five years to be at Texas Stadium for another 30-or-so games. Roaming the sidelines before kickoff. Watching the stadium fill. Visiting with assistant coaches. Hanging out in the locker room before and after games. Being overly rude and sarcastic with other reporters and hosts. Watching up close the drama of what’s said and not said during postgame news conferences. What a privilege to be there the day Emmitt passed Payton. Only time I’ve ever seen a pressbox give anybody a standing ovation. What a blessing to be there for all those games, to make all those memories, from the endzone nosebleeds in 1977 to the sidelines and up and down the players’ tunnel in 2004.

I wanted Whitney to remember this night as much as I will. I kept pointing to all the names in the Ring of Honor and telling her about each player. I talked to her about the differences between Tom Landry and every other coach the Cowboys have ever employed. I explained the significance of the hole in the roof. We talked about the championship banners and those Super Bowl teams from the ’70s and ’90s. The white stars that rim the field. The big blue star in the middle. The pressbox where I sat as the Sports Director at KRLD.

She looked up at me at the two-minute warning and said, “Dad, even if they lose, I still had a good time.”

Yes!

So they’re tearing it down. After 37 years, Texas Stadium’s not big enough, not fancy enough, not new enough. In about four months, the only ties the current Cowboys will have to the Clint Murchison-Tex Schramm-Tom Landry beginnings will be at their office headquarters and practice facilities at Valley Ranch. But nobody ever sees that. The offices are being moved to Jerry’s new place in Arlington. So is the little museum and the five Super Bowl trophies. The championship banners are being moved. And it’s only a matter of time, maybe just three or four years, until Valley Ranch is abandoned, too.

That new stadium in Arlington is amazing, no doubt. And for at least two or three generations of Cowboys fans, it’ll become a great place of lifelong memories. For me, though, that new stadium is one more reason not to like the Cowboys.

Peace,

Allan

Whitney came through her surgery yesterday with flying colors! Dr. Herring beeped us an hour-and-a-half in and declared everything a major success. He almost sounded surprised himself at how well it went! They took some bone from Whitney’s hip and grafted it into her left foot to straighten out some irregularities she’s dealt with for over ten years. “That bone,” Dr. Herring, the chief of staff told us, “did exactly what we wanted it to. It brought that foot right in where it needs to be.” She was back in her room by 10:30 am. And by 2:00 pm she was back to her normal self, talking a million miles an hour about sports and games and food.

There’s a pin sticking out from her heel underneath the cast. She’ll be in the cast that runs from just below her knee down to her toes for six weeks. And she can’t put any weight on it whatsoever. So she’ll spend most of these six weeks in a wheelchair. We’ve done it once before, when she had both feet operated on seven years ago. But we were in a one-story house then. I think the downstairs study is about to be converted into Whitney’s temporary quarters.

About three weeks ago, Doug Deere, one of our friends here at Legacy, gave me two tickets to his company’s suite at Texas Stadium for tomorrow night’s last Cowboys game ever at the historic football shrine. And my heart melted, knowing that I had no choice but to take Whitney, but realizing it would be a close call with her Thursday surgery. We got the news yesterday that they weren’t planning to take the epidural out until Saturday and that she wouldn’t be released until Sunday or Monday. They’re much more concerned with the pain in her hip than in her foot. I was devastated. Whitney’s been begging us to take her to a game in this final season at Texas Stadium since last year. It’ll make her decade to get to go. But it wasn’t looking good.

Until this morning. Carrie-Anne told Dr. Herring all the details of what had been planned. Knowing Whitney like he does—he’s been seeing her for seven years and operated on her now four times—he concluded there’s no way she can miss the game. So he conferred with a couple of other doctors and got everything moved up 24 hours. The epidural’s coming out this afternoon and she’s going home tomorrow at noon. And we’re going to the Cowboys game together tomorrow night! Dr. Herring said even if it sets her back a couple of days in recovery, she can’t miss that game.

So, they’re working out her pain meds and getting all of that regulated today. I’m picking up Valerie and Carley from school in about an hour and heading back over to Scottish Rite. And I can’t wait to tell Whitney about the game. She doesn’t know yet. We haven’t told her because we weren’t sure she was going to get to go. She’s going to flip. I can’t wait.

The experience has been marvelous, as it always is at Scottish Rite. We love that place. They take such great care of their patients and their families. Whitney won’t even need a Christmas after all the gifts and goodies she’s received from the hospital this week. And your prayers and calls and cards and visits have done wonders for us and our family. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Our church family at Legacy is so wonderful. Our friends and family spread out all over the southwest are wonderful. And our God is so great. Once again, he shows us his love and concern, his provision and protection, through his people. And once again he delivers us. He walks with us through the valleys. He rescues us. What an amazing Father!

Go Ravens.

Allan