We were in Tulsa this weekend for the Baby Blessing ceremony at the Jenks Church where our daughter Valerie and her family worship and serve. Elliott and Samuel are six-months-old, the perfect age to steal the show at a baby blessing. And they did. We were listening as the parents of all the babies born in that congregation over the past year made vows to raise their children in the nurture and admonition of our Lord, we affirmed our own promises to help these parents raise their children in Christ, but everybody was distracted by the cuteness of our twin grandsons.
Or was that just me?
I don’t know, man, they’re super cute.
David’s parents and his sister, Claire, were there from Virginia to really add to the fun of the long weekend together. There was a massive yard work project, big meals, football watching, and packing up the tubs of clothes the boys have already outgrown. But mainly we spent our time holding and playing with and loving Elliott and Sam. Elliott is taking steps now in his walker. Kinda. They’re both eating really well from jars now, and beginning to experiment with drinking from cups. They laugh and shriek at each other and are figuring out how to get their way. Elliott didn’t mind the lemon slice I had him try at Hideaway Pizza. Sammy hated it. We thought Elliott said “ma-ma” one time. He didn’t. But it was close.
I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of looking at those boys from way across a crowded room and watching them light up with recognition through those big eyes and wide-open smiles. How can I describe something like that? It’s crazy.
If you don’t have any, you should get some grandkids. It’s really awesome.
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The fastest way to get out of a spiritual rut is to dive head-first into a mission.
Having the mind of Christ, being transformed into the image of Jesus with ever-increasing glory, means increasingly doing for others. It means sacrificing and serving others. Philippians 2 says your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus, and describes that attitude as considering others better than yourself and looking not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. 1 Corinthians 10 tells us to seek the good of many. Romans 15 instructs us to please our neighbors for their good, to build them up.
Actually doing some ministry like that–not just talking about it or studying it or agreeing that it’s good–changes us.
When we risk going to new places, meeting new people, trying new activities, the uneasiness creates some space for change. New experiences challenge our beliefs and assumptions. Ministry when you’re in over your head forces you to face your fears and surprises you with resources and strength from God that you didn’t know you had. Hearing the stories first-hand, seeing the places and meeting the people, makes the needs and the opportunities more urgent and real. The Scriptures become more alive when you connect them to real ministry. It pushes you out of the comfort and theory of rhetoric and into the places where God is changing the world. To empty yourself for God’s mission like that feels good.
You know it feels good. Because you’ve done it before. And the reason it feels so good and refreshing and real is because it is your God-ordained purpose. He made you to put others first. When you do that, you are being more Christ-like. That’s why it’s so powerful. When we serve others, we live better, we worship better, we pray better, we love better–everything’s better!
Living your life on mission means more people in our world will be blessed. And more of us will be changed.
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Derrell Havins, a gentle man of deep faith and a dear friend in Amarillo, finished his race this afternoon. And he ran well. Very well.
I love Derrell because he first loved me. I count Derrell among the greatest sources of encouragement I had during our ten years of ministry at the Central Church of Christ. He’d start all of our conversations with a smart-aleck comment about my tie or my hair or something I had said in a sermon, and then move immediately into an encouraging word. He told me on multiple occasions to never stop preaching. He told me to never let up. He told me to keep speaking the truth, even when it was difficult. And sometimes it was.
He and his loving wife, Nola, took us out for burgers at Buns Over Texas and catfish at that all-you-can-eat place in Umbarger. They were a fixture at Central’s annual Family Camp. And his smile–I never saw Derrell frown, unless he was faking something.
I love Derrell because he loved our daughters. He and Nola doted on our girls constantly, telling them how pretty they are, how talented they are, how important they are. They hugged all three of our girls every Sunday. Valerie and Carley always referred to Nola and Derrell as “our favorite old people.” Derrell stood on the stage in that old Central chapel in the summer of 2020 as I walked Valerie down the aisle at her wedding. He’s the one who asked who was giving away this beautiful young lady in marriage. Valerie was blown away. Astonished. She had no idea Derrell would be up there. I remember when the doors opened and she took one step into the aisle and saw Derrell, she turned to me and said, “Oh, my word! It’s Derrell!” And started crying.
I’m typing through tears as I’m writing this right now. Remembering what Derrell would say every time we ate lunch together at the Burger Bar on Polk Street. He would order the Monte Cristo. Every time. And he would say, “Don’t tell Nola.” Every time.
After Nola died suddenly in March 2015, Derrell’s encouragement to me became a one-track stuck record. He ordered me to tell Carrie-Anne how much I love her. Every time we spoke, and at least a couple of times every Sunday, Derrell would insist. “Promise me,” he would say, “that tonight you’ll tell her. Tell Carrie-Anne you love her. Again.”
So, tonight, in honor of Derrell and Nola and their 57 years of marriage that truly reflect the glory of God and serve as a powerful testimony to our Lord’s love for his people, tell your wife tonight how much you love her and how much she blesses your life. Tell your husband how much he means to you and how you can’t imagine living without him.
God bless all the Havins and Vaughans in Amarillo tonight, and all the people who love Derrell so much. Rest in peace, Derrell. May our faithful God receive you into his loving arms.
Peace,
Allan
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