Category: Preaching (Page 1 of 25)

Open the Curtains!

I believe God calls us to regular and serious self-examination, but my experience with this is that serious self-examination can be both difficult and dangerous. It’s very easy for the enemy to turn my thoughts against me. I avoid silence and solitude–just me and our Lord–because of what gets very quickly revealed about me and my soul. I find it easier to pray about others and minister to others and work harder and produce more than to deal with my own stuff. It’s better when I remember that the enemy is a big fat liar. But I do struggle with this.

Introspection and self-reflection is hard. It can be confusing, maybe even chaotic. Are these gifts from God or is it arrogance? Am I passionate or am I a bully? How mixed are my motives? Am I really making any kind of a difference in our church? Is my own level of discipleship to Jesus too inconsistent to be a preacher? Man, I can get twisted up inside myself pretty fast.

Thomas Chalmers, a 19th century Scottish pastor and theologian compared self-examination to walking into and sitting in a dark room. You can’t see what’s inside the room because the room is dark. So how do you see? How do you brighten the room? Not by straining your eyes or looking harder. Not by sitting longer in the dark and taking more time. Not by squinting. Not by concentrating.

You can’t see yourself more clearly just by focusing more intently on yourself.

Chalmers says you must go to the window and open up the curtains! Let the light of Christ, he says, break into the darkness of whatever’s going on in your soul. And Chalmers says the light is the Word of God.

“If we derive no good from the work of self-examination, because we find that all is confusion and mistiness within, then let us go forth upon the truths which are from without, and these will pour a flood of light into all the mazes and intricacies of your soul, and at length will render that work easy, which before was impossible.”

Self-reflection is difficult and dangerous. Don’t attempt it without soaking in the sunshine of God’s Word. Listen to the voice of the Lord. Learn to look more at Christ than at yourself. You’re not changed by focusing on yourself, but by focusing on Jesus.

God knows the very worst about you, and he still loves you. He does not deal with us according to our sins. He promises that if we confess, he will forgive us and cleanse us and transform us. You must be secure in the love of God for you before any self-examination can be confident or fruitful. Know how precious and honored you are in God’s sight, know the glory of who you are in Jesus, know the guaranteed future you have with God in Christ. Remember that God is for you!

Now.

Now you can identify where God is at work in you. Now you can keep going with the assurance that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion.
Now I can identify where God is at work in me. Now I can keep going with the assurance that he who began a good work in me will bring it to completion.

This post is more about me than you. Let’s both try to be better at this.

Peace,
Allan

Concerning the Robe

Just to dispel the rumors, I did NOT preach in Steve Schorr’s robe yesterday at First Presbyterian Church. I did preach the Word with our brothers and sisters at First Pres yesterday, and I was honored and blessed by God to do it. But I did not preach in any robe.

I was gathered with the excellent pastoral team at First Pres–Walter, Dillon, Erica, Charlotte–and going over the order of service, checking my microphone, praying, and all the things you do before a Sunday morning worship assembly. Dillon joked about me wearing the robe and it turned into a photo gag for Steve. I put the robe on, we took the pic, and they sent it to Steve. Hey, ha ha, Allan is wearing your robe!

Little did I know that Steve, who was preparing to preach at GCR, gave his phone to Andrew and Tim in the A/V booth and they grabbed the photo to show to our whole church! Steve put it up on the big screens early in his sermon!

Needless to say, I had several text messages waiting for me after church. Mostly smart-alack remarks. A couple of pointed questions. And they kept coming. All afternoon. As soon as I entered our building Sunday afternoon for the 4Midland Thanksgiving Service. And a couple more after the service.

Wearing that robe, even for that short amount of time, even as a joke, has caused me to do some deeper reflection on the whole clergy regalia thing. I’ve always had many reasons–convictions!–for not wearing a robe while I preach. But, for the first time ever, I’ve realized there are some good reasons for embracing it.

  1. I would never have to iron a shirt on Saturday night. I would never have to decide what to wear. The robe covers everything. My socks wouldn’t even have to match!
  2. The robe gives off a very pious look. People might take me more seriously.
  3. Big pockets. There are huge pockets inside that robe. Places to put my gum, my pen, my index cards. Pockets enough to conceal a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll and a Diet Dr Pepper.
  4. The slimming effect. At least two people told me I looked thinner in the robe. Because it’s black? I don’t know. This is a very compelling reason to change my mind about robes.
  5. It’s the only reason anybody would ever think of maybe calling me “Your Eminence.” I’ve always wanted somebody to call me “Your Eminence.”

I’ll write more about the amazing 4Midland Thanksgiving Service tomorrow. I just wanted to clear up any questions about the robe.

Peace,
Allan

Holding On

I thank God for refreshing my soul and rekindling my heart for his holy mission the way he does every single year at ACU’s Summit. My spirit is overflowing with gratitude today for our Lord and for the good people at Abilene Christian University who continue this annual gathering of church leaders despite the many challenges in providing physical space, brilliant content, inspiring worship, and relational opportunities for an increasingly digitized and individualized group of ministers and pastors.

We typically take seven or eight of our nine ministers on the team at GCR, but this year only four of us were able to make the two-hour drive for the event that covers parts of three days. We do our own tracks with our fellow preachers, youth ministers, children’s ministers, and formation ministers from all over Texas, the Southwest, and parts unknown. But we worship, take in the keynotes, and eat our meals together, sharing what we’ve learned, praying for each other, and laughing. On Thursday, we were honored to be joined for lunch at Twisted Root with Jason Minor, one of our amazing GCR teenagers who is enjoying the first weeks of his freshman year at ACU. We want to keep connections with our kids; what a joy to know that our kids want to maintain those connections with us.

I am at once dismayed and greatly encouraged to know that most preachers are dealing with all the same things when it comes to the current climates in our churches. Today, “Christian” means a lot of different things to a lot of different people, both inside and outside the Church. Some of those things are decidedly un-Christian, which is killing our witness to a desperate and dying world.

I’ll paraphrase what the brilliant Mark Hamilton said during a session on Isaiah 40-55 and its message to our present time and culture. He said the greatest gift the Church can give to our communities and to our world, is calm, reasoned discourse. We should call the demagogues for what they are–in the government and in our society, who they are and what they are doing–we should be clear about it. We should tell our brothers and sisters who are in the rabbit holes to repent and, if they don’t repent, to leave our congregations. Because people who are searching for God will discern very quickly that the church is not the place to seek. This is not a hypothetical; this is real. It is happening with a majority of younger people right now today.

Jerry Taylor’s powerful homily on our fear of death and the spirit of Cain and of the anti-Christ that is so prevalent in our communities and our churches left me feeling incredibly inadequate and gutless. I know my church needs to hear these things, I know I am called by our God to proclaim the truth that Christ lives and that Jesus alone is Lord and that we are collectively losing our minds and our souls by employing the ways of the world and chasing after political power to remake society in our own images. When I asked Jerry afterwards if he had a word for preachers like me in the situations we’re in–there are hundreds of us–he said, “Allan, there are bigger things at stake than your employment.”

I know courage thrives in community and in collaboration. That’s why I am so thankful for my pastor friends in Midland; for my longtime friendships with preachers I’ve known for 25-plus years; for Jason, with whom I study and pray and argue and laugh; and with guys and gals in our unique fraternity I’m just now meeting and getting to know. We hold on to Scripture. We hold on to justice. We hold on to love. We hold on to our Lord and the promises of our God. And we hold on to each other.

Peace,
Allan

Hard-Found Humility

Pastoring a church can sometimes be a brutal business. Congregational ministry is richly satisfying for me, but it’s also by far the hardest work I’ve ever done and sometimes kicks the stuffing completely out of me. Being the preacher means getting cut. Deeply. By people you love very much. Such sharp and painful cuts. Friends who leave. People who are lost. Unfounded accusations. Jumped conclusions. Confusing complaints. A million different betrayals. When I encountered one of my first set backs in my first year of preaching, a long time ago, someone told me that the church never loves the preacher as much as the preacher loves the church. I didn’t know what he meant back then. Stan Reid, the president of my seminary, wrote on my graduation card in 2007, God will use the good times to encourage you and the bad times to keep you humble; both are needed. Indeed.

But it’s not just what others do to us, it’s our own mistakes and mess-ups that keep us humble. Eugene Peterson wrote this in a letter to his son about being a pastor:

“We make far more mistakes in our line of work than other so-called professionals. If physicians and engineers and lawyers and military officers made as many mistakes as we do in our line of work, they would be out on the street in no time. It amazes me still how much of the time I simply don’t know what I’m doing, don’t know what to say, don’t know what the next move is… But I had a sense much of the time (but not by any means continuously) that ‘not knowing what I am doing’ is more or less what it feels like when I am ‘trusting in God’ and ‘following Jesus.’ 

I’ve never been so dependent on my time alone with our Lord in Word and Prayer every single day than since he’s called me to be a preacher. I find that more and more of what God is asking me to do and what the church expects me to do is completely impossible for me to do. I cannot do it. I have already messed it up. I am listening to you, Lord. I am following you. And we both know only you can do this.

Lastly, we preachers are humbled by trying to shepherd our churches in the name and manner of Jesus. He teaches us how to stoop, how to give, how to work with a bowl and a towel. He teaches us to lean in to the interruptions, to make the hospital visits, to listen for a really long time, to write the card or the letter, to ask for forgiveness, to show mercy, to exercise patience–the whole time looking for that little opening into someone’s soul.

I was invited to speak at First Baptist’s annual minister appreciation lunch here in Midland on Monday. Those pastors I already knew and some of the ones I met on Monday all concur that right now today may be the most difficult time to be a pastor in our lifetimes. It kills some guys. It makes them hard. They wear masks and lose their authenticity. They get guarded and stiff. Others graciously embrace the hard-found humility. They become more patient, more kind, more full of grace for others and for themselves.

I thank my God for the tremendous honor and for the lessons in humility. May my gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.

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Our most wonderful grandsons are three-months old today and they are even more incredibly awesome than you can begin to imagine. Look at these guys!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those two pictures were taken yesterday. The official  month-day pictures are always on the giraffe. Those came today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re gonna need a bigger giraffe.

Peace,
Allan

The Most Courageous Thing

A good friend of mine at our church sent me a powerfully encouraging email this week related to last Sunday’s sermon. The sermon was about identity and belonging from the first part of Galatians 3. Our identity, like our salvation, is to be found in Christ alone. We struggle with this. We build our identities based on where we came from or where we live or how we vote or the size of our houses or the work we do. It’s even possible–easily–for a preacher to construct his identity around being a preacher.

The note from this friend very generously reminded me that I am doing what God created me to do: to inspire and encourage my brothers and sisters to give themselves fully to God in Christ. It was very nice. And timely. I get these kind cards and emails every now and then, and they always feel like they come directly from God. I’m so thankful to God for these Spirit-inspired encouragements. This time, the message came with a long quote from Richard Rohr, the author of several books on spiritual living.

I’m sharing the quote here in its entirety, but I want to emphasize the dynamic center of the whole thing: “The most courageous thing you will ever do is accept that you are just yourself.”

Great people do not need to concoct an identity for themselves; they merely try to discover, uncover, and enjoy the identity they already have. As Francis said to us right before he died in 1226, ‘I have done what was mine to do. Now you must do what is yours to do.’ Yet to just be yourself, who you really are, warts and all, feels like too little, a disappointment, a step backward into ordinariness.

It sounds much more exciting to pretend I am St. Francis than accepting that I am Richard and that that is all God expects me to be–and everything that God expects me to be. My destiny and his desire are already written in my genes, my upbringing, and my natural gifts. It is probably the most courageous thing you will ever do to accept that you are just yourself. It will take perfect faith, the blind ‘yes’ of Mary, because it is the ongoing and same incarnation. Just like the Word of God descending into one little whimpering child, in one small stable, in one moment, in one unimportant country, noticed by nobody. We call it the scandal of particularity. This, here, now, me always feels too small and specific to be a dwelling place for God! How could I be taken this seriously?”

I don’t know how you’re messing up your identity, where exactly you are misplacing the center of who you are, to whom you belong, and your ultimate purpose. But you might try the more courageous thing of leaning into who God created you to be and where he has placed you.

Peace,

Allan

The Issues of Your Time

From my lectionary readings this morning, a passage from Richard J. Foster’s Freedom of Simplicity:

“Pastors need to take courage and share boldly and tenderly. People need the truth. It does them no good to remain ignorant… Martin Luther is reported to have said,

‘If you preach the Gospel in all aspects with the exception of the issues which deal specifically with your time you are not preaching the Gospel at all.’ 

We can no longer allow people to engage in pious exercises that are divorced from the hard social realities of life. Nor can we tolerate a radical social witness that is devoid of inward spiritual vitality. Our preaching and teaching needs to hold these elements in unity.”

Peace,

Allan

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