The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

This is the question Jim Martin hit us with yesterday during our afternoon session of the Waco Alliance. If Jesus were the preacher at Legacy, how would he go about his day? What would his week look like? What would he do that you do? What would he never do that you find yourself doing every day?

Weird question.

Weird, because I can’t imagine Jesus as a preacher at a church. Not a church in the way we do church today.

I look at Jesus in the Gospels and, yes, I definitely see a preacher. “Repent!” he preaches. “The Kingdom of God is near!” Oh, yeah, Jesus was certainly a preacher. And he ministered to people. All kinds of people. He taught Nicodemus. He consoled Mary and Martha. He healed the crippled and blind. He encouraged the outcast. He ate with the sinner. Jesus was a pastor/shepherd. On the road. In the desert. At the lake. In people’s homes. In the temple. At the market place. Jews and Gentiles. Sinners and saints. He preached and ministered. He did all the things I long to do. He is all the things I long to be.

But how would he be the preacher at Legacy?

The preacher at Legacy has an office. Four walls. Book shelves with lots of books. A desk. The preacher at Legacy is expected to be in this place, this preacher space, every day. An office. With a phone. And a computer. A lamp. Paper clips and staples and a printer. Emails and messages and blogs. Writing sermons. Practicing sermons. Re-writing sermons. Pens and paper. Budgets and meetings and meetings about budgets. Lunch at the drive-thru and then back in my space.

I imagine Jesus would not keep regular office hours. He might not have an office at all.

And I sometimes find myself living in this office. Living here.

How would Jesus do my job?

I wrote three more paragraphs here and then, after re-reading them a couple of times, deleted them. I’ve got some soul-searching to do. I’ve got some serious questions to answer. I have to be a disciple of Christ first and a church “preacher” second. The lines are blurred more often than not. I’ve got to figure out if that’s good or bad.

Peace,

 Allan

(You’ve got to read Ezekiel 34 — the whole chapter — before you read this post.)

Ezekiel 34 troubles me. Just exactly like the rest of this book of prophesy, it’s strong. Bold. In-your-face. It pulls no punches. It’s convicting. Condemning, even. Powerful. You never have to wonder what God is thinking when he speaks through Ezekiel. And that’s true with chapter 34. I’m troubled because so much of this chapter seems to be speaking so directly to our churches today.

God rips into the bad shepherds because they’re ignoring the fat sheep who are oppressing the other sheep. And I see us. Sometimes. Sometimes elders don’t want to challenge the church bullies because they don’t want to stir up any conflict. They want to keep the peace. And, sometimes, the fattest sheep are the biggest givers. Sometimes preachers hold back on what God’s telling them to preach because they don’t want to offend anybody. They don’t want to answer the phone calls and emails Monday morning. They don’t want anybody to leave. They don’t want the emergency meeting with the elders.

Elders and ministers don’t always take care of the weak sheep like we should. Taking care of sheep is hard. It’s painful. Time-consuming. It’s work. And, sometimes, church leaders do crave the attention. Some of are tempted by the spotlight. Sometimes we really do just want our own way. Sometimes we do only act in an effort to save our own necks. And our selfishness and inconsistencies can drive the sheep away.

God help us.

We can also — all of us — sometimes be really sorry sheep. We can be territorial about our ministries or areas of service. Or our pews. We don’t let anybody in. We can shove brothers and sisters out the door by being dogmatic and unyielding about our own personal preferences. We can push people to the curb by insisting they believe and think and worship and sing and dress and pray just like me. We’re so good at it, so oblivious to it, that sometimes we can actually take the official position of a weak sheep and use it like an 18-pound sledgehammer to bully and head-butt and ram other sheep into my comfort zone and my lines and boundaries.

There are sheep in our flocks who’ve been in our flocks for years and who’ve never been invited to anyone’s house for dinner. They’ve never been asked to go out to eat. There are sheep in our churches who feel like they don’t matter because we have absolutely run them over on our way to the next committee meeting or service project.

God help us.

God says, “No, I’m just going to do it myself.”

“I myself will shepherd my sheep”

Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd.”

Jesus knows how to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted. To those who relied on their own righteousness, Jesus ripped away all their excuses and forced them to see their deep need for his grace. To those who were burdened and marginalized, Jesus drew them to God. He showed them that God did not delight in their death but was begging them to come to him so he could give them eternal life. They needed to know there was a place in God’s flock for the weak and the sinful.

The Lord Jesus Christ is our great shepherd. He’s bold and courageous and single-minded in his mission to seek and save the lost, to restore the lost sheep of Israel. And he’s so committed to it — he’s so committed to us, his sheep — that he lays down his life for us. He dies for us. He stands in the gate — he says in John 10 he IS the gate! — between us and the ravenous wolves and the muderous robbers who would kill us and eat us. He’s unwilling to sacrifice even one of us to the enemy. He’d rather die first.

And he did.

God’s people are scattered. We’re all over the map. We bicker and argue. We’re lost and injured and sick. And God through Christ keeps his promises to search and bring back and strengthen. The Good Shepherd makes us one. And he gives us peace.

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The Rangers are 2-5 right now on this ten game road trip. They’ve gone oh-fer on the season in the Twin Cities. They’ve lost four straight. Josh and Lee are both out indefinitely. Just a little speed bump, right?

Peace,

Allan

“The thread of our speech comes alive through the very joy we take in what we are speaking about.” ~Augustine

Some of my early Sunday morning alone time with God is spent thanking him for his preachers. As I prepare to do again what so many have done before, what so many are doing even as I’m praying, what so many more will do long after I’m gone, I praise our Father for their courage and boldness and commitment to our God and his Kingdom.

I ask our Lord to bless all the preachers I know with wisdom and fire. I ask him to speak through them to his people all over the world. I thank God for the preachers in the past who have taught me and shaped me: Burt, Jim, Willis, Rick, Doug. I thank him for the ones I listen to today who mold my theology and challenge my thinking: Terry, Buddy, Don, Patrick. I thank him for some of my best friends who are preachers: Jason, Jim, Charlie. I thank him for the preachers right here in Tarrant County who share with me their wisdom and friendship and encouragement: Eric, Rick, Jim, Larry, Grady, Robert. I thank him for those who are preaching in other lands, who’ve given up everything to answer our Lord’s call: David, Corey, Salvador.

And today I ask God to bless my great friend Jason as he preaches with our church family at Legacy.  May he deliver to our brothers and sisters at Legacy this morning just half the encouragement and wisdom he regularly delivers to me.

Peace,

Allan

“You must speak my words to them, whether they listen or fail to listen.” ~Ezekiel 2:7

 My preaching just got a whole lot better. Members of the Legacy church will be especially pleased to know that I’m a much better preacher today than when I last posted on this blog. The annual Sermon Seminar at Austin Graduate School of Theology will do that to a guy.

Sitting at the feet of Rubel Shelly as he graced us with his knowledge and insights into our Savior’s Sermon on the Mount and encouraged us to empty ourselves and truly live into what God intends for us as his children. Listening to Paul Watson as he walked us through the words of judgment and grace in Ezekiel and challenged us to preach both. Soaking up my great friend Jim Martin’s wisdom and experience as he taught from 2 Corinthians and inspired us to rely solely on our God as we minister in our churches. Feverishly taking notes as Jim Reynolds carried us from Genesis to Malachi, painting a portrait of our God and his people, a breathtaking picture of love and mercy and grace, and begged us to preach the story. It was, as somebody observed halfway through the first day, like getting a drink from a fire hose. It was so much. Almost too much.

I heard a few jokes. I picked up several preaching pointers. I gathered lots of sermon ideas and outlines and illustrations. All those things are going to make me a better preacher. But here’s the thing that matters; this is what’s important:

For three days in Austin I was reminded by some of the best preachers and teachers of preachers in our fellowship that our sermons do not belong to us. Our sermons are the holy words of our mighty God. My ideas, my stories, my words, my thoughts are inadequate and empty. The world is too messed up, it’s in too much trouble. I bring nothing to the table. I’ve got nothing to offer. It’s God. God’s holy words and God’s holy will. His grace and his mercy and his love. His presence and guidance and encouragement. It’s God. I’m speaking for God.

This preaching thing is not a career. It’s not a profession. It’s a calling. It’s a sacred calling. Preachers are not hired and fired; they are not applicants or candidates. We don’t update resumes or climb any corporate ladders. We work for our Father. Everything we do, we do for him.

If the whole church applauds in approval after my sermon this Sunday but God is not pleased, I have not fulfilled my calling. If the whole church scowls in disapproval but God is delighted, I have done what he is calling me to do.

The Austin Grad Sermon Seminar always re-centers me. It re-focuses me. It pulls me back to the proper understandings and views that get so easily distorted or sometimes even lost in the swirling mess that is church life and church meetings and church politics and church business. It reminds me of who I am as a powerful proclaimer of the great news of salvation from God in Christ. And it reminds me that I work for the God who created me and equips me and empowers me to speak his words — whether anybody’s listening or not — and he guarantees those words will not return to him empty.

Thank you to Stan Reid and the whole Austin Grad staff. Thank you to Rubel, Paul, and First & Second Jim. Thank you to Eddie Sharp who planned all our worship times. Thank you to my great friend Jason Reeves for his company and his encouragement and for not bringing his smelly Corn Nuts into my truck. Thank you to Jim Gardner and Jimmy Mitchell for the prayers in our hotel rooms and the gut-laughs during our meals. And thank you to our mighty God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, for calling me to preach the Word.

Peace,

Allan

God is not finished with me yet. Praise the Lord, he’s not done! He’s still working on me. And, by the power of his Holy Spirit, he uses people and circumstances and books and friends and strangers and situations to shape me more into the image of his great Son.

Right now our Father is using Kipi’s class on conflict resolution and a little book recommended by my great friend Jim Martin to show me how to better manage myself as a preacher. I especially want to share one wonderful insight and recent conclusion that has greatly reduced my burden and given me great comfort and peace. And freedom.

I’m afraid my private conversations with friends and church shepherds — those inside and outside our congregation at Legacy — involve some form of the question, “How can I get these people to….?” I’m afraid that’s my mindset. When seeking advice from others or when wrestling with our God in prayer, I often ask, “How can I get these people to listen? How can I get these elders to understand? How can I get these volunteers to act? How can I get these church members to think? How can I get these brothers and sisters to see?”

That kind of thinking and acting, that sort of mindset, would easily lead to frustration, don’t you suppose?

In her book Leaders Who Last, Margaret Marcuson says preachers should stop asking those kinds of questions and, instead, ask, “What am I called to say to them this week?”

I am responsible to do my best to preach God’s Word as I understand it to my congregation every week. I am responsible for challenging our church family and calling them to repent and live their lives worthy of our calling. I’m ordained to provoke them by God’s Word to do more and to be more. And that’s about it. These people are responsible before God for what they do with that Word each week. I can’t make anybody do anything.

It’s not, “How can I get them to…?” It’s, “What am I called to say?”

That takes the pressure off. That brings me great relief and peace of mind. It helps me trust more completely in God. Less of self and more of thee. Because if my faith really is in my Lord, if I really do believe he’s working through me in this church to transform all of us, I can relax. I don’t have to worry about taking care of everybody because I know the results of my preaching don’t depend on me. They depend wholly on God.

Marcuson says a church needs to be led, not driven.

“The concept is clear: people are not acquitted of the responsibility for their own souls. Personal decisions are still decisions, personal judgments are still judgments, free will is still free will. Being in a family does not relieve a child of the responsibility to grow up. The function of twenty-one-year-olds is not to do life’s tasks as their parents told them to when they were six-years-old. The function of twenty-one-year-olds is simply to do the same tasks well and to take accountability themselves for having done them… The role of leadership is not to make lackeys or foot soldiers or broken children out of adult Christians.”

Probably the best thing I can do as a preacher is to teach the Word of God, to communicate my understanding as clearly as I can, challenge my hearers, and then give them room — and time! — to respond.

Look at Jesus. He preaches and teaches out of this amazing position of relaxed trust. Trust in God and trust in people. He simply says, “Your sins are forgiven. Go and sin no more.” If Jesus can give that kind of room and time to others, without chasing after them and hounding them for their own good, maybe I should give more effort to doing the same thing.

Peace,

Allan

“Christ in you, the hope of glory.” ~Colossians 1:27

“To him be glory in the Church.” ~Ephesians 3:21

“Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” ~1 Corinthians 10:31

God reveals his glory to us in the soul-stirring words of Exodus 34. God tells us very clearly that his glory has nothing to do with the way he looks. It’s not about his power or his rule. It’s about his character. It’s who God is. God’s self-revealing statements in Exodus 34 are the “I AM” defined.

Compassionate. Gracious. Slow to anger. Abounding in love. Faithful. Forgiving.

If the world really understood these things about our God they would beat down our doors to get to know him better. They’d be lined up around the block. We couldn’t keep them out. But how will they comprehend our God’s eternal qualities if they don’t see those characteristics reflected in God’s redeemed people? How will they know the character of our God, how will they see his glory, unless his Church shows it?

Why do people think God is grumpy and always on the hunt to judge and punish somebody? Do they see that in us? Have they seen that in you? Why do they think our God is distant, out of reach, untouchable, and unable to meet their deepest needs? What would make them think that? Have they experienced that in you? Why do some people believe God can’t forgive them, that he remembers their past sins? Have they noticed that in me or in my church?

As God’s children, we are called to reflect his glory. To live it. To reveal it. Embody it.

A lot of people say we are the hands and feet of Jesus. A real understanding of what it means for us to reflect his glory tells us the Church is actually the very heart of God. The glory of God.

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I just completed all my registration forms for the 29th annual Sermon Seminar at Austin Graduate School of Theology late next month. It’s always an intense 48-hours of exegesis and outlines and sermon prep at the feet of the best scholars/preachers practicing today. I’ve been blessed in the past to work under Ben Witherington, Tony Ash, Rick Marrs, Eddie Sharp, Glenn Pemberton, Tom Olbricht, James Thompson, and Harold Shank, to name just a brief few. I’ve been inspired and encouraged and convicted during these serious sessions.

But this next one is shaping up to potentially be the best I’ve ever attended.

My great friend Jim Martin is presenting 2 Corinthians. And he’s the perfect guy to do it. Jim is a compassionate comforter. He’s sensitive to people and their deepest needs. He embodies the message of 2 Corinthians with his every breath. The legendary Rubel Shelly is presenting the Sermon on the Mount. Jim Reynolds is discussing the Old Testament Story. And Paul Watson is back to show us how he preaches Ezekiel. I love Ezekiel because he is such a crazy, over-the-top prophet. Ezekiel’s prophesy illustrations were exotic and unforgettable. And Paul Watson really knows how to make the biblical text come alive. I was moved by his presentations of Jonah and Ruth and Daniel in 2006. Those sessions helped shape our Missions Month this year at Legacy. And I know he’s going to make Ezekiel pop for us this year in Austin.

Everett Ferguson, the world’s foremost authority on early church history, is presenting a special session on “Baptism in the Early Church: What I Learned and What Surprised Me“ and Wendel Willis is hosting a Q&A session on “Lord’s Supper Theology and Practice.”

Are you kidding me? I can’t wait.

If you’re a preacher, you should make the Austin Grad Sermon Seminar an annual event on your calendar. You’ll be better for being there. And so will your church.

Peace,

Allan

As is often the case, my posts on this blog are things I’ve thought about and studied about and prayed about in relation to Legacy’s Sunday sermon but didn’t actually preach. Sometimes these posts are things I wanted to say on Sunday — intended to say — but, for a variety of reasons, didn’t.

This is one of those posts.

We’re immersing ourselves in the story of Jonah here at Legacy this month as we build towards our annual Missions Sunday on March 28. This past week we considered God’s call to take the good news of his salvation to all peoples, specifically our enemies.

God wants all the people of Nineveh saved. He wants them to repent and come into a relationship with him. And God intends to use Jonah to make it happen. But Jonah doesn’t want to participate in the redemption of this particular people. So the prophet runs to get lost in another culture. He heads west to Tarshish, the farthest point west known in Jonah’s day. Yhwh is not honored in Tarshish. He’s not even known there.

Jonah knows he can’t run away from God. But he can go to another place, another world, where maybe he can escape God’s call. Jonah maybe can immerse himself in worldly things. He can become overly occupied with possessions and status and busy-ness and career and sports and home ownership. Maybe a wife and kids. If he can just get away from the temple and from a lot of church people trying to tell him what to do, maybe Jonah can find some peace.

Of course, Jonah never got that chance.

God’s call on your life is unmistakable. It’s clear. You understand exactly what it is. But are you avoiding it?

I felt my God’s call to preach for years. And for years I said ‘no.’ I rationalized my rejection of the call. I was working at KRLD! I was the Sports Director at the Texas Rangers flagship station in a top-ten market! I was already doing enough. I was being a good influence there. I was shining like a light. Don’t talk to me about preaching the gospel, I’ve got work to do! God needs me here at the Ballpark!

Turns out I was just hiding at the Ballpark. Running away from the call. I’m sure God could have used me in radio. I’m sure he wanted to. But I wasn’t letting him. I was afraid. Or maybe I just wasn’t that interested. I was preoccupied with chasing my own dreams to insure my own comfort. Jonah tried to hide in the hull of a pagan ship. I was hiding in the tunnels at a stadium in Arlington.

In what ways are you avoiding God’s call on your life? What is God wanting to do with you and through you that you’re not letting him do? What are you running away from? Where are you hiding? In your job? In your recreation activities? In your family?

Why don’t you come on out? It’s beautiful up here. Getting involved in people. Getting into the middle of their broken lives. Talking to them about the miracle of salvation, the power of the empty tomb, the promise of the Resurrection, the glory we share in our risen Lord. Helping people. Encouraging people. Guiding people. Sharing their burdens. It’s the hardest work I’ve ever done. And, by far, the most rewarding. You might not be called to preach. But I’m certain our God is calling you to something big for the Kingdom. Something really big. Something he’s equipped you for and empowered you to do. And maybe you’re scared. Or uninterested.

Stop hiding. Commit right now, today, to doing exactly what our God is calling you to do. Act now and avoid the hungry fish!

Peace,

Allan

The story of Jonah helps us understand how God thinks. It helps us see God’s great love for all of his creation and his will for all men and women of the world to be saved. The apostle Peter finally figured it out after a couple of rooftop visions in Joppa.

“Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.” ~Acts 10:15

“God has shown me that I should not call any man impure or unclean.” ~Acts 10:28

“I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts men from every nation who fear him and do what is right.” ~Acts 10:34-35

We have enemies in Iraq and Afghanistan. And our God loves them and he wants them to be saved. But sometimes our language and our prayers and our actions and our emails don’t reflect it. How quickly we forget that while we were God’s enemies, Christ died for us.

We have enemies right here in our own communities. Enemies of our property values, enemies of our employment figures and tax rates, enemies of our comfort zones and our decency and order. And our God’s unmistakable call is to take to them the good news of salvation.

See, the deal with Jonah is that he believes in the sovereignty of God in his clear call. Jonah understands it. He just doesn’t want to obey it.

We believe that Jesus meant it when he said love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. But we don’t always practice it.

God is still calling his people to preach, to witness, to testify, on his behalf to other people. We see it with Jonah. We really see it in Jesus. Our Savior crosses all the social and political and cultural and racial and economic boundaries to save violent outcasts, those possessed by demons, warring zealots, traitorous tax collectors, Roman centurions, and thieves on crosses. He broke through the barriers of time and space to save you. And me.

And our God unmistably calls us to reach out to others the same way.

Peace,

Allan

I realize every time I get up in the pulpit on Sunday mornings I’m preaching between 900-1,000 different sermons. Everybody within earshot hears something a little differently. The people in our churches arrive in the assembly and bring to our sermon different experiences, different worldviews, different backgrounds. They come from different family dynamics, different geographical locations, and different economic circumstances. These different contexts shape the sermon; what they hear; how they respond.

I’m also aware that what’s happening in the room also impacts the way I preach. I feel that I’m much more bold when I’m preaching in Arkansas or California to people I’ve never met. It’s not that I don’t want to be bold at Legacy. It’s just that it’s much more difficult to say hard things to people I’ve grown to love. I love these people and I think I speak differently to them. Obviously, it’s much, much easier to preach following an uplifting service of praise in which the entire assembly has together raised the roof in joyful song than following a half-hearted robotic effort to trudge through songs nobody likes or nobody knows. The songs are intended to edify the congregation, to uplift the people of God. And they do. They uplift the preacher, too.

The great theologian Reinhold Niebuhr knew that his Sunday morning sermons were better than his Sunday evening sermons. He realized that cicumstances do affect the quality of the message. And a lot of that, according to Niebuhr in Leaves from the Notebook of a Tamed Cynic, has to do with how many people are in the room.

“A full church gives me a sense of fighting with a victorious host in the battles of the Lord. A half empty church immediately symbolizes the fact that Christianity is very much a minority movement in a pagan world and that it can be victorious only by snatching victory out of defeat.”

Yes, the preacher is impacted by the mood of the crowd, the lighting in the room, the events of the past week, and by the anticipated, yet strangely unexpected, moving of the Spirit. All those things, and many more, affect the sermon.

My faith is in the divine promise that God’s Word never returns to him empty. He puts his truth directly into the hearts of our hearers. Despite our shortcomings and inadequacies, despite our human tendencies to be swayed by temporal distractions, our Father uses preaching to reveal himself to the world.

That’s still pretty cool.

Peace,

Allan

“We are to God the aroma of Christ…” 2 Corinthians 2:15

I know there are people in our congregation at Legacy who regularly listen to preachers who are a thousand times better than me. Through the internet, seminars and workshops, DVDs, podcasts, and a variety of other ways, our members hear preachers better than me all the time.  Actually, forget all that. There are at least a dozen preachers within our own congregation who are better than me! Smarter. Wiser. More eloquent. Better speakers. Better exegetes. I see them every Sunday. And I think, good gravy, why did they hire me? Why would anyone here listen to me?

I go to these workshops and seminars and get to enjoy some of the greatest preaching and teaching in our tradition. Important preachers. Book-writers and highly-paid speakers. These guys criss-cross the nation speaking to huge crowds who hang on their every words. And I think, wow, how do you get to be so important? How does one become a really great preacher?

I sit down in any room or at any table with any other preachers and I instantly feel wholly inadequate. Intimidated even. I don’t know anything. They know everything. I think about my failures. They don’t have any. My successes seem so small compared to theirs. My best ideas and sermons seem so trite and old compared to theirs. And I think, man, I’m not sure I even know how to do this.

I have a need to feel important. And that’s a sin.

Un-Christ-like. Un-Christ-like. Un-Christ-like.

The good news for me is that I am very, very important to God. Whether I realize it or acknowledge it or not, God says I’m important to him. I don’t need other people to validate me or the work I’m doing for the Kingdom. I am validated by my merciful Father who says I’m the very aroma of his holy and perfect Son.

And that’s good news for you, too. You don’t need to feel important. You certainly ARE important to our God. And so is the work you’re doing for the Kingdom. It’s all very important to him.

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In light of current events, isn’t Toyota’s current logo and ad campaign ironic?

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Good to see the Dallas Cowboys going into full off-season mode so early. Usually the first Cowboys player arrest happens sometime in the days and weeks following the Super Bowl. Not this year.

Peace,

Allan