Category: Church (Page 33 of 59)

Muttering

The religious leaders we see in Scripture are always forcing Jesus to defend himself and his mission. Jesus is welcoming the outcasts and eating with sinners. He’s associating with and accepting these people who just don’t measure up. Jesus is continually embracing these misfits, giving to them, serving them, teaching them, fellowshipping with them. And the established religion of the community couldn’t handle it. One of the main political and religious charges against Jesus that led to his execution was the fact that he “welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Luke 15 is just one of many places in the Gospels where we find that when Jesus associated with the marginalized, “the Pharisees and the teachers of the Law muttered.”

They muttered.

They mutter and grumble and complain among themselves. They do it behind Jesus’ back. They gripe under their breath. Because a religious person would never say these kinds of things out loud:

“Those people don’t speak English.”
“Those kind of people won’t give.”
“Their kids are not well-behaved.”
“Have you seen what they wear?”
“They’ll mess things up.”
“They’re on welfare.”
“He just got out of prison.”
“She has AIDS.”
“He cusses.”
“She smokes.”
“We have to protect our kids.”
“We have to be careful.”
“They should probably go somewhere else.”

Church people don’t talk like that out loud, right? A religious person would never say stuff like that in public. Not from the pulpit, not in a Bible class, not in an elders meeting.

No. Religious people mutter these kinds of things under their breath. Among themselves. In private.

If we’re following our Savior — and we are! — we have to recognize that Jesus came with everything he had to seek and to save the lost. And the lost responded to Jesus, not because he catered to them or compromised his message, but because he cared for them. He loved them. He understood their needs and helped them while the religious leaders criticized them and kept their distance.

Jesus strongly rebukes that attitude. His every word, his every deed rebukes that self-centered mindset. Jesus invested his time and energy in sinners. He associated freely with them. He ate with them. He became personally and intimately involved in their messy lives and desperate struggles. Jesus pursued sinners with such enthusiasm and commitment that the religious community questioned his character and his motives. But he kept seeking and saving the lost. With everything he had. And then he died for them.

We don’t ever dare make fun of, poke fun at, or look down on any person made in the image of our God.

Ever.

We don’t mutter.

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I’ve been to a couple of Rangers playoff games at the Ballpark in Arlington, one in ’96 and another in ’99. I was there when they clinched the division title in ’99. I’ve been to important division games in September. I’ve been in the stands for weekend games against the Yankees when the Rangers were rallying to take a lead in the 8th inning and winning it in the 9th. And I’ve thought many times that there’s no way the Ballpark could ever be louder or as exciting as this.

Until Napoli’s two-run double with the bases loaded in the 8th inning against the Cardinals Monday night in Game Five of the World Series. I’ve never been a part of anything quite so loud and exciting at the Ballpark. It was improbable. It was emotional. Magical.

From Roger Staubach’s ceremonial first pitch to Feliz’s last, it was a nail-biter. Nerve-wracking. Gut-wrenching. It seemed that St. Louis had runners at second and third in every inning. Every pitch was do or die. Every Cardinal at-bat went full count. And Texas couldn’t do anything right. Murphy and Moreland were booting balls, C. J. couldn’t find the plate, and nobody could get on base. That 2-1 deficit seemed like 10-1. Or 100-1. It was awful.

Which made it so much better once Napoli finally came through with his double and then chased Berkman to first base an inning later to end it.

We hugged and high fived everybody in the home run porch. We took pictures. We cringed when Darren Oliver came in and exhaled in relief when he left. We chanted Napoli’s name and laughed at the Ron Washington videos. We ran into Russ Garrison and his family. And we ate for the cycle. It was an awesome night! Thank you to Brian Gray for scoring the ticket. And for being the most superstitious baseball fan I’ve ever known.

 

Game Six tonight. In the cold and the rain in St. Louis. Colby Lewis has the stuff on the road to give the Rangers their first ever World Series title in their 51-year history. Start the DVRs.

Go Rangers.

Allan

It’s A Problem, Right?

“Cruz Control!”

Nellie is dealing, man! His perfect strike from right field in the 8th and his three-run jimmy jack to put it away in the 11th have given the Rangers complete command of this ALCS. Young finally drove in a run and appears to be slowly returning to form. Kinsler’s running the bases like a seasoned veteran. Mike Napoli’s still red-hot; his throw to nail Jackson, coupled with his catch and block at the plate on Cabrera, were things of sheer beauty and grace. And watching Wash running in place in the dugout as Hamilton rounded third made everything seem just as fun as last year.

And: Is it a cobra or a sitting duck? What is that thing? Whatever it is, it’s not as cool as the claw and antlers.

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Jesus and the Church today don’t attract the same people. That’s a problem, right? While he was ministering on this earth in our flesh, Jesus seemed to attract a certain kind of people. But his Church today seems to repel those kinds of people and attract others.

In just about every Gospel account, anytime Jesus met up with a religious leader or a well-respected pillar of the community, they were offended by the Son of God. They were repulsed by Jesus. Threatened, even. But those who were on the margins of society, those who had no power or status or wealth, were intrigued by Jesus. They were attracted to him. The outcast is always the one who connects with Jesus. Those are the ones coming to Christ. The city rulers and “church” leaders were the ones trying to put Jesus down, trying to kill him.

Our experience today seems to be just the opposite.

Timothy Keller, in his little book The Prodigal God, speaks to this as he compares and contrasts the two lost sons in the Luke 15 account of Jesus’ most well-known parable. (What? You’ve never read Timothy Keller? Oh, my. Look, as soon as you’re finished reading and commenting on this blog post, the very moment you’re done, click here and buy Keller’s The Reason For God. And when it arrives, read it!) The younger son types were always attracted to Jesus while the older brother types were cynical and suspicious. But that’s not the way things are in our American churches today:

“Jesus’ teaching consistently attracted the irreligious while offending the Bible-believing, religious people of his day. However, in the main, our churches today do not have this effect. The kind of outsiders Jesus attracted are not attracted to our contemporary churches, even our most avant-garde ones. We tend to draw conservative, buttoned-down, moralistic people. The licentious and liberated or the broken and marginal avoid church. That can only mean one thing. If the preaching of our ministers and the practice of our parishioners do not have the same effect on people that Jesus had, then we must not be declaring the same message that Jesus did. If our churches aren’t appealing to younger brothers, they must be more full of elder brothers than we’d like to think.”

What kind of  a message are we sending when we relegate the poor of our community to a back room downstairs? What are we saying when the Hispanic church can meet in our building, but only after we’re finished with it? What do we communicate when the outcast feels more warmly welcomed at Wal-Mart and McDonald’s than he does at church? What’s the “gospel” we proclaim when we’re quick to hand a guy a five dollar bill for lunch but avoid like the plague the thought of ever actually inviting that guy to our homes for dinner?

That’s a problem, right?

If we ever came to the conclusion that acting like our Lord — doing Christ-like things in Christ-like ways — was the way to go and acting the opposite of our Lord was wrong, then things might change. But none of this will ever change a long as we think it’s OK the way it is. That’s a problem, right?

Peace,

Allan

Homothumadon

Our church at Central experienced homothumadon here together yesterday morning. Homothumadon is my second favorite Greek word from the New Testament, right behind koinonia. Homothumadon appears throughout the book of Acts to describe a fiery unity. It means passionate togetherness; emotional and active unity; intense and fevered oneness.

We had that here yesterday when we prayed to God together for our dear sister Judy Newton.

I had only anticipated a few of the people sitting around Lanny and Judy would actually gather around her and place their arms around her and hold her hands while we lifted up a congregational prayer on her behalf. She was diagnosed Friday afternoon with a couple of brain lesions in an out-of-the-blue, ambush, rip-the-rug-out-from-under-you, punch to the stomach, what-in-the-world-do-we-do-now kind of way. I was ready to lead that congregational prayer for her yesterday morning, but before I could start, people began getting up and walking over to Lanny and Judy and crowding around her in a spontaneous show of compassion and solidarity.

They came from all over our worship center. Those immediately behind and next to Judy wrapped their arms around her. But then a few people stood up to join them. And then a few more people. They came from a couple of rows over and from clear across the sanctuary. From the front and back and the middle. Young and old. People who’ve known Lanny and Judy for thirty years and people who’ve never met them. Men and women were crawling over people in their own pews to reach Judy. It’s a “preacher’s count,” I acknowledge, but I’m guessing almost a hundred of Judy’s brothers and sisters made their way to be with her during that prayer.

And I was so inspired. Yes, I thought, this is not doing church; this is being church.

As I watched the people stream toward Judy and surround her with love, I also became somewhat intimidated by my pressing task. As I waited and waited and waited while these people kept coming and coming and coming, I began to feel wholly inadequate for wording a prayer that would properly honor these folks, most of whom I still barely know, and these relationships, all of which I haven’t a clue. How could my prayer do it justice? I felt compelled to call on somebody else to lead it. How can my prayer match what I’m seeing?

When I finally started praying, it happened. Homothumadon. Unity in thought. Unity in mind. Unity in purpose. Unity in prayer. I wasn’t the one praying. We were all praying. We were all saying the “amen.” We were all together speaking with groans only the Holy Spirit can communicate to the Father. It was audible. It was genuine. It was together. We were in a fox hole together, as one, lifting this dear sister to the only God who can do anything about her circumstance. We were communicating to the gracious One who is sovereign over pain and disease. We were lifting Judy to the author of life and the destroyer of death. In faith. In desperation. In trust. As one.

We were all blessed by the prayer. Not the words of the prayer which, again, had everything to do with God’s Divine Spirit and nothing to do with me. We were blessed by the unity of the church. I know Lanny and Judy were encouraged and blessed. I know I was inspired. If you were here with us yesterday morning, I know you were moved, too. We all grew together yesterday morning. We matured spiritually as we considered Judy’s needs greater than our own. We grew together as family. And we became more childlike, more Christ like, as we depended solely on God.

E. M. Bounds said prayer does not prepare us for greater works; it is the greater work.

Judy is set for surgery on her brain at 8:00 tomorrow morning, Tuesday October 11.

Pray.

Allan

Church Clothes

I vividly remember as a young teenager, after spending a Sunday afternoon at my friend Todd’s house, showing up to church that evening in blue jeans, a Huey Lewis and the News concert T-shirt, tennis shoes, and extra-wide sweat bands on my wrists. Upon entering the half-empty/half-full worship center I was notified that I was on the list of those who were supposed to serve communion. (This was back in the day when, if you weren’t at church that morning, we made you raise your hand or stand and the rest of us watched you commune. By yourself.) So, I stood up there, feet shoulder-width apart, hands firmly clasped in front, praying and passing the Body and Blood of Christ.

And, man, I got it when we got home. I was not wearing church clothes! I was waiting on the Lord’s Table and not wearing church clothes!

Of course, I know now what I did not know then. In all actuality, I was wearing my church clothes. You are right now wearing your church clothes. The place where you are sitting or standing right now is holy ground.

Scripture holds that everything — absolutely everything — takes place on holy ground. God has something to say about every aspect of our lives: the way we feel and act in the so-called privacy of our own hearts and homes, the way we make and spend our money, the politics we embrace, the entertainment we enjoy, the wars we fight, the tragedies we endure, the people we know. Nothing is hidden from the sight of our God. And nothing is exempt from his rule. The ground is holy, the folks are holy, the words we speak are holy.

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory!”

Not just in the worship center on Sunday morning, but everywhere you walk is holy ground. Everywhere you go is a sacred place. Everybody you meet is a holy opportunity. Everything you do is a sacred activity. Everything you wear is church clothes!

It’s all governed and ruled by God and set apart by him and acknowledged by his children as holy and set apart for his divine and eternal purposes. All of it.

“As God has said, ‘I will live with them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they will be my people…’ Since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.” ~2 Corinthians 6:16, 7:1

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The Texas Rangers are smoking hot heading into their second straight postseason. While clinching the title in the AL West, the Rangers won six in a row, ten of their last eleven, 14 of their last 16, swept the Halos, and notched a club record 96 victories. The only team hotter in the American League is the Tampa Bay Rays.

Come 4:00 tomorrow afternoon, I will be planted on the microfiber couch, in front of the tube, with Whitney, some ice-cold DDP, an ample supply of chips and hot sauce, and enough popcorn to make Orville Redenbacher blush. You can text me tomorrow afternoon after 4:00. But don’t call.

This is the most complete Rangers team ever assembled. Kinsler and Napoli are smashing the ball. Josh and Beltre are clutch. Michael Young is MVP-calibar. Ceej and Holland and Harrison are in a groove. Feliz has found his stuff. And Mike Adams is this year’s Cliff Lee.

Rangers in four.

Allan

Upholding the Ideal

Our holy Scriptures are full of lofty ideals. We listen to Jesus say, “Love your enemies,” and we realize, “Wait a second, I don’t even like my friends!” Give to everyone who asks. Never lust. Always forgive. Rejoice in persecution. Put the needs of others ahead of your own. Our Lord calls for a single-minded fidelity to following him without reservation. And it’s demanding. Impossibly so. Yes, the Holy Spirit of God empowers us to do what Christ is calling us to do. But we don’t always do it. We mess up. We sin. We fall.

To borrow from Yancey, I find that, personally, I talk and write about spiritual disciplines far better than I practice them.

How about you?

Yeah, I know.

But we keep trying, right?

We never put our feet on the floor in the morning and allow that, “I’m human so I’m going to sin today. There’s no way I’m going to be perfect today. I’m going to mess up. I’m human.” No! God forbid! We strive with everything in our power and by the strength of the Spirit to pledge that, today, I’m going to be like my Lord! We don’t ever give in to the world’s conclusion that we cannot possibly be like Christ. We keep trying.

Scripture paints a beautiful picture of the Kingdom of God and the coming wedding feast of the Lamb. It’s a gathering of “every tribe and language and people and nation.” We find “the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame” around the table. Paul makes it clear that, in Christ, there is “neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.”

I believe the very core of the Gospel of Jesus is that our Christ died and rose again in order to destroy completely and eternally all the barriers that exist between God and man and man and one another. Social distinctions. Cultural differences. Language obstacles. Socio-economic disparity. Zip codes and tax brackets. None of these things register as even a blip on our fellowship radar. These differences don’t even exist in Christ.

But we have black churches. And white churches. And hispanic churches. And rich churches. And poor churches. And somehow we’ve fooled ourselves into thinking that’s OK. We have begun to believe the lie that church has always been this way and it will always be this way. The cultural differences are too great. The language difficulties are too much. We’ve tried to integrate, we’ve tried to come together, but it’s just never worked. And it never will work.

So, why try?

Because there is honor in the trying. Trying is an act of faith. Our Father wants us to engage that struggle and try. He wants us to try.

Scripture gives us a crystal-clear mandate. It tells us in no uncertain terms that the table of Christ and the house of God is to be enjoyed by all. Together. United as one. Everybody equal. Everybody just as wretched and lost and condemned to death without Jesus and everybody just as holy and saved and righteous because of Jesus. Together. We uphold the ideals we find in Scripture. We lift up those ideals and we try with everything we have to bring heaven to earth, to practice God’s will on earth just as it is in heaven.

And we slip. And we fall. And fail. And do really stupid things. But we never give up. We never give in to the world’s conclusions that division along racial and economic and language lines is necessary. We keep trying. And we trust that Jesus, our King, is watching even as we are “straining at the oars.” He’s interceding for us as he watches. And he’s proud of us. He’s pleased with us as we keep trying.

Peace,

Allan

Football Friday!

It’s going to be a record 101-degrees in Amarillo today, but it feels like fall. Drum lines and cheerleaders and football players and victory chants do it for me every time. It’s high school football season. Zero week starts tonight at Bivins Stadium when the Amarillo High School Sandies take on Midland. Carrie-Anne and I just returned from the pep rally in the Sandies Gym. We sat next to the Freshmen section and right across from the Seniors. But we never once saw either one of our girls. (If they had seen us, I’m sure they would have made sure we didn’t see them.)

There’s something really cool about being a part of this Amarillo High School scene. It’s the sense of genuine community. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the history of the place. Amarillo High has been around since 1889. There’s a lot of tradition here. In fact, they do all they can to keep the traditions alive. They still use the old 1920s mascot and logos on a lot of their literature and publications. They still employ a quaint rally chant from the ’40s, “Blow, Sand, Blow!” at opportune times during football games. While discussing tonight’s tailgating activities in the parking lot after the pep rally, we met a couple of people who went to school at AHS, sent their kids to AHS, and now have grandchildren here on the football team and on the spirit squads. There’s a lot of that here. They value their history. They uphold their traditions. When you’re a member of the Amarillo High School community, you’re a part of something much bigger than yourself. You’re a part of something that’s been vital and important since before your grandparents were born and something that’ll be vital and important long after you’re gone.

There’s a really provocative and interesting blog post in here somewhere about traditions in God’s Church, about traditions within our Church of Christ heritage, about the value of those traditions and what they mean to a community of believers. There’s a lot to write today about being connected to the greatness of the past, those men and women of the faith on whose shoulders we’re standing today. There’s plenty to consider regarding what we’re doing today and how it will impact future generations of disciples of Jesus.

But you’ll have to think about it and discuss it yourself. You’ll have to draw your own conclusions today. C-A and I are going to lunch and then we’ve got to find a couple of Sandies T-shirts before kickoff.

Hoping your team wins tonight. Unless it’s Midland.

Allan

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