The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

It’s 1:30 Wednesday afternoon at the airport in Kiev (5:30 Wednesday morning Texas time). Carrie-Anne and I are a little over halfway through our seven hour layover and it looks like we’re going to make it. It was touch and go there for a couple of hours. But we have lunch behind us — we’re hoping it stays well behind us — and we’re only two hours away now from boarding our flight to London.

The techno-disco blaring from the giant screens in both terminals, the smells coming from the downstairs water closets, and the smoke — OH, THE SMOKE!!! — is about to get to us. It’s a little overwhelming. Factor in that C-A is on Day 11 without Dr Pepper and, wow, is she tired. Very, very tired.

We’re keeping a journal of our layover. It’s pretty funny. You wouldn’t believe most of it. But that’s OK, I wouldn’t publish most of it.

Needless to say, the atmosphere here is not conducive to the kind of contemplative, reflective, theological blogging you’ve become accustomed to in this space. Sorry. All of that will pick back up on Monday.

Until then, our plans are to spend a day and a half in London, fly back home to DFW late Friday afternoon, head straight to Posado’s or Abuelo’s, order one of everything on the menu, eat Mexican food and drink Dr Pepper until they ask us to leave, and then go home and sleep for about 14-hours.

David and Olivia say ‘hi’ to everybody at Legacy. I can’t wait to write more about them and God’s Church in Kharkov. Thank you for your prayers and your encouraging emails. We miss everybody. See y’all soon.

Peace,

Allan

Yes, yes, I know how awful I am. I wanted so badly to post something here every day of our trip. I know. You can’t believe how busy we’ve been and how little time I’ve had. I’m sorry. I have tons of pictures and dozens and dozens of amazing stories about the great people here in Ukraine. And I can’t wait to share them all.

Carrie-Anne and I are waking up at 5:15 in the morning (it’s 2:45am right now; yes, that’s how crazy everything’s been!) to head out to the airport for the first leg of our return home to Texas. We take about a 65-minute plane ride to Kiev where we have about a seven hour layover before our ten hour flight to London. Yuk. Words can’t describe the misery of the Kiev airport. Maybe during the seven hours I’ll post a longer blog with a bunch of pics. No promises.

Pray for God’s blessings as we hit the skies.

Our Father is so powerfully great and so wonderfully good. Oh, yes, he is.

Peace,

Allan

Most of you know I’m being arrested this Thursday and hauled off to a prison cell (I think it’s a Spring Creek barbecue) in Bedford this Thursday to raise money for MDA. I need to raise $1,480 in “bail” money in order to be released. All the details of the fundraiser can be found here in a post from last week. After writing about it on this blog, I/We had raised a grand total of $30 in six days. So I was forced to send out emails.

They went out late yesterday afternoon. I’m asking for donations for bail money to get me out of jail. These are my friends. And these are some of the responses that came back.

“How much do we pay to keep you in there for a month or so?” ~Rusty Thompson
“How much do we pay to get them to take you away sooner?” ~John West
“You’re going to be stuck there all day!” ~Jason Brown
“Have a good looooong weekend. They do serve bread and water, right?” ~Bill Podsednik

Those were the mild ones. J.Q. Manos came back with this gem: “Sorry, Allan, my check is going to Royal Family Kids Camp. But I will start a jail ministry, come with a pack of cigs and a gallon of water to help you pass the drug test.”

Some of my dear brothers — elders in the Lord’s Church! — acted like the Pharisees crying “Corban!” in using Scripture to avoid the call to duty:

“Paul wrote some of his best stuff from prison.” ~David Watson
“I understand Paul did some of his best and most introspective writing in prison.” ~Jerry Plemons
“No doubt, Paul got much inspiration from his time in prison.” ~Dennis Tom

Yes, that’s true. And when he preached, it seems Paul routinely went past midnight! See you Sunday!

I received this from another of our elders: “Looks like you’ll be there for a while. I’ll look into skyping you in from your jail cell. Better get those sermons memorized. They may not allow crib notes in the cooler” ~Russ Garrison

The best line thus far has come from an old college roommate, Todd Adkins, “Don’t you have an OCC lawyer on permanent retainer?

As of this morning, Tuesday, I/We have raised $150. Thank you. We’ll get there. If you’d like to donate, please click here.

Peace,

Allan

I’m going to jail. The pen. The big house. The clink. The cooler. The crossbars motel.

I’ve been informed that officials are coming here to the Legacy church offices at noon on Thursday May 13 and hauling me away to a cell in Bedford. And they will hold me there until I raise $1,480 in bail.

Actually this is all part of an MDA fundraiser. The bail money I (we) raise will fund Muscular Dystrophy research, repair medical equipment, fund clinics and therapy and treatment, and send local DFW kids to a summer camp.

Don’t just laugh at my predicament. Don’t just forward emails and blog comments full of lame puns and weak jokes about my plight. I need help! I’m asking you to please bail me out, knowing that your donation doesn’t just get me out of jail. The money goes to all kinds of wonderful causes.

a $300 donation is enough to provide a diagnostic workup at an MDA clinic
$150 pays for a therapy consultation
$74 funds one minute of vital research
$30 pays for a flu/H1N1 shot
The full $1,480 funds 20-minutes of Muscular Dystrophy research

MDA funds six clinics in DFW, including the one at Cook Children’s Hospital in Fort Worth.

Please click here to get to my MDA donation page. Or you can click the link on my blog role there to the right. Next to the funny little video is a “donate” button that allows you to donate any amount toward my bail. Plug in $25. Donate $50. You can choose to have your name and the amount you donate displayed on my MDA page or you can remain anonymous. You can use any credit or debit card or you can choose the “bill me later” option. You can also write me a check or give me cash in person. They’ve provided me with receipts to make sure you get full tax credit.

It would be great to hit the $1,480 goal before they actually show up to arrest me next Thursday. I’ll keep you posted on the progress we’re making between now and then. Please do this for me. I don’t need to stay there all day. I’ve got sermons to write!

If you can’t donate money, maybe you can bake us a helpful cake.

Thanks so much,

Allan

If I’m ever going to hear any good preaching, I’ve got to get away from Legacy.

C-A and I are headed up to Tulsa today for the annual Soul Winning Workshop. We will spend the next four days praising God with thousands, sitting at the feet of our tribe’s best speakers, and fellowshipping with dear friends. When we return, I fully expect to be sung out and wrung out. And renewed. And re-energized.

Have a great week!

Allan

I spent the first Tuesday of every month in 2008 with Jim Martin, a long-time family friend and the preacher at the Crestview Church of Christ in Waco. Jim had put together a mentoring group of nine preachers and an elder, all from the Waco area. And he had asked me to join.

I came to crave those Tuesdays. I needed them.

For the most part, people I know say, “Good sermon,” and they mean, “You didn’t offend me.” They ask, “How are things going?” and they mean, “How are things going at church?” They say, “Let’s get together,” and they mean, “Let’s talk about a program or a ministry issue.”

That’s a broad generalization, I know. Please understand that I love these people. All of them. And I’m thrilled to have these beautiful, God-ordained, holy relationships. I’m blessed.

But, once a month, it was nice for my good friend Jim to look me square in the eyes and ask me, “How are YOU doing?” Not your ministry, not your church, not your sermons, not your programs. You. How are you doing? How are you and Carrie-Anne doing? Tell me something that excites you right now about God. What part of you, Allan, needs work? What can I specifically pray about for you? How are your kids?

It was also refreshing to hear my brothers call me to accountability. They were not afraid to challenge my view of a particular topic or my stand on a current situation. They were not embarrassed to ask me if maybe my pride or my ego were affecting my thinking. They didn’t mind showing me something from a different angle that maybe I hadn’t considered.

The best part for me was knowing that I could really be myself. I could be totally open and honest and 1) know that everybody in the room completely understood and 2) they weren’t going to judge me or tell on me. They know. All these preachers know. They know the heartache and the joy, they know the burden and the responsibility and the blessing of being one of God’s preachers. I trusted them. Still do.

For one day a month, it was sanctuary.

Jim puts together a new group every year. Seven or eight new faces. Only two or three holdovers. I didn’t participate last year. And I missed it. I missed the focus it gave me. I missed the camaraderie and the worship and the study and meditation. I missed hearing all the good things our God is doing in other faith communities. I missed encouraging other preachers and being encouraged by those same preachers. This year, I’m in.

Twelve Tuesdays. And it starts today.

The renegade elder, Ray Vannoy, is in. I’ve never met a shepherd quite like him. He’s so well read, so current with what’s happening in the Kingdom, so encouraging to preachers, so open with his own criticisms of church and church leadership. So over-the-top gentle and generous and humble. My good friend Charlie Johanson from the Brentwood Oaks Church of Christ in Austin is in. Charlie and I probably took 40 of our 48 hours at Austin Grad together. He was always one step ahead of me. Always pointing me to the bigger picture. A perfect picture of what hungering and thirsting for righteousness looks like. And then there’s Jim. His soft voice and mild mannerisms don’t quite cover up a fiery passion for our Lord that’s obviously boiling inside him. He’s so deliberate. So insightful. So empowering. He sees good in everything and everybody. He is a man of God beyond reproach.

And I want to be just like him. And Charlie. And Ray. I pray that being with them will cause some of their character to rub off on me.

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I’m disturbed today to read that Joe Perry and the rest of Aerosmith are actually auditioning lead singers to tour with the band and cut a new album while front man Steven Tyler recovers from his rehab. You can read the story here. Reportedly, Lenny Kravitz and Billy Idol are among those being considered.

All indications are that Tyler’s relapse into the drugs that derailed the group in the late 70s was his first setback since they all went cold turkey back in ‘85. This doesn’t make sense. Give him a break.

I know Tyler and Perry split this band up once. Ego and drugs and pride and philosophies and all kinds of things were to blame then. But to actually use another lead singer while Tyler is recovering seems crazy. And mean. You know, David Lee Roth and Van Halen had only been together eight years when they went their separate ways. Aerosmith’s been this exact same band for four decades! It would be like The Who touring with Bryan Adams as their lead singer or The Rolling Stones cutting an album with Peter Frampton on lead vocals.

If they do this, they can’t call it Aerosmith.

Joe Perry plays a mean guitar. But he already tried the Joe Perry Project on his own. Yuk. Steven Tyler IS Aerosmith! He’s the face (and the lips!) of the whole Aerosmith franchise.

A moment of silence, please. Somebody hum “Dream On.”

Peace,

Allan

“God could not be everywhere, so he created mothers.” 

  ~Old Jewish Proverb

On a literal level, we certainly disagree with the proverb. God is most definitely everywhere. But in a symbolic sense I dearly love what the proverb proclaims. For we do see our God in our mothers.

When our mothers cook for us our favorite meals, sew the patch in the knee of our blue jeans, and slip us the cash for the movie, they are reflecting the provision of our God who always meets the needs of his children.

When our mothers hold us closely through the thunderstorm, watch us as we cross the street, and insist on meeting all our friends, they are mimicking the protection we’re promised by our Father.

When they wipe away the tears and apply the band-aids and force the cough medicine down our throats, they are shadowing our God, the Comforter and the Healer.

Our mothers love us unconditionally, despite the messes we make and the trouble we cause. Even when we don’t listen and we don’t behave, mom’s love never wanes. She disciplines us when we stray from the path. She forgives us when we wreck her carpet or her drapes. And she encourages us to be everything our God has created us to be.

Our mothers teach us right from wrong. They listen inexhaustibly. They rejoice in our success. And our setbacks cause their hearts to break. They know what we’re going to say before we say it. Our mothers brag about us to their friends and defend us to our peers. They believe in us even when we don’t believe in ourselves. They lead us from in front and they push us from behind.

And there’s nothing that could ever separate us from their love. Ever.

Yes, our God is everywhere. But so too, it seems, are our mothers.

As an old Spanish proverb says, “An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.”

I’m not touching that one.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Allan

Most of you already know how proud I am of my brother, Keith, a Bible professor at Harding University in Searcy, Arkansas. He teaches church history and New Testament theology and he is the world’s leading scholar and expert in the thought and theology and writings  of Jacobus Arminius. Keith’s first book, Arminius on the Assurance of Salvation, was published two years ago. You’d need a small loan to purchase it. Most of you (us) would need a brain transplant to read it. It’s heavy. Deep. Profound. And very, very important. It’s meant for reading and research in theological libraries. And I know our mom has a copy. But John Mark Hicks has recently read the book and posted a wonderful review on his website, John Mark Hicks Ministries. You can read his review of Keith’s book here.

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And would you please do me this favor? It’s kinda cheesy, I know. Indulge me, though. Please. This will take a grand total of ten seconds. It’s a total of two clicks.

Randy Roper is the family life minister at the Edmond Church of Christ. We called Oklahoma Christian University basketball games together in 1988-89. I did play-by-play. Randy provided the color. Colorful color. Road trips. Late nights. Triple overtime playoff losses. We’ve got a bit of a history together. If you know Randy, ask him about Swampman’s Dunk, mayonnaise, or the stink bomb in the Eagle’s Nest during a game against SNU. (Don’t ask him about our halftime comments during crazy hat night against Oklahoma City University.) On a whim, he recently entered a contest in which the winner gets a free trip to New York City to accompany Oklahoma City Thunder officials for the 2009 NBA Draft Lottery.

The Thunder is the NBA team in OKC.  It’s the old Seattle SuperSonics franchise that moved to Oklahoma two years ago. The set up here is to know that the team and its fans call their Thunder T-shirts and Thunder caps and Thunder sweatshirts and jerseys “Thunderwear.” It’s catchy. It’s clever. I like it. My brother-in-law and their two boys are always talking about their Thunderwear. We got them Academy gift certificates for Christmas last year so they could buy more Thunderwear.

The contest Randy entered is a slogan contest. The winner is determined by on-line voting. His slogan is “Gonna wear my Thunderwear in Times Square.” It’s down to three finalists. And right now, Randy’s leading the voting with 46%. “Thunder Loud and Oklahoma Proud” is next with 44%, so it’s close. Do me a favor. Vote for Randy right now. The voting ends at 2:00 CST this afternoon. Today.

Here’s the link to the site:

http://www.nba.com/thunder/news/lottery_challenge.html

The three slogans will pop up on the left. Click in the circle next to “Gonna wear my Thunderwear in Times Square” and then hit the “submit” button right under it. Again, it’ll take less than ten seconds max. Thanks. I owe you one.

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The Rangers are in first place this morning. They’ve won five straight. I’m not going to say anything about it. Don’t want to jinx anything.

And we’re down to one goldfish after two more kicked the bucket overnight. They’ve named him Spot. I think he’s in trouble.

Peace,

Allan

I don’t know who put the children’s wading pool in the back of my pickup truck last night and filled it up with water and several dozen goldfish. But I’m impressed. The effort. The creativity. The expense in money and time. The calculated taking of innocent animal lives. Admirable.

The one person I believe to have perpetrated this act against my personal property denies it fully. He’s got motive. He’s got the children who would love to help. He’s got the history. Recent history. But he’s also got strong alibies. I’m not sure I believe him. But I can’t prove anything. There’s no evidence but two empty plastic fish bags from Wal-Mart and my garden hose unreeled all over my front yard. The other person I believe is capeable of this elaborate prank has no motive. At least, none that I’m aware of.

I was laughing my head off this morning when I saw it. The girls were flipping out. Carrie-Anne was just shaking her head. Carley wants to keep all the fish.

I managed to save eight or nine. Four or five of them don’t look like they’re going to make it through the day.

I’m glad I checked the back of the truck before I took the girls to school this morning. C-A takes the truck to TWU in Denton nowadays. I would have hated for her to discover all this as she was running late to class. Or, worse, for her to take off and not realize the situation. Just imagine the little blue Ranger cruising down 114, dead fish flying out of the back, smashing into the windshields of other cars, causing a three-car-injury-colission. Carrie-Anne cited by local police and DPS and state game and wildlife officials for illegally transporting fish across county lines during a swine flu imposed quarantine. Not good.

Just know this, whoever did this to me: I will find you out and I will exact revenge. Just like Bill Cosby’s routine about the snowball and Junior Barnes (look it up, it’s a classic), I will wait until July if that’s what it takes. I will find you out and I will wait. And wait. I will make you my dearest and closest friend. I’ll laugh at all your jokes. I’ll bring you an orange soda while we play on my front porch. And then, at the moment you least expect it, I’ll get you.

Juuuuunior Baaaaarrrrrrnes. Where are you, Junior Barnes? Ohhhhhhh, Junior Baaarrrnnnes.

You Gunkie!

In light of the inescapable newspaper and radio and TV reports, yesterday’s community health fair here at Legacy, advice from friends and relatives, everybody’s minor level of anxiety, and our shepherds’ statement sent to all of us over the weekend by email, a couple of passages come to mind:

“They shall wash their hands…so that they will not die.” ~Exodus 30:21

“Wash your hands, you sinners.” ~James 4:8