The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

AllanStanglin.com

Author: Allan (Page 318 of 492)

Be Filled with the Spirit

February 4, 2013 / / 2 Comments

“Be filled with the Spirit. Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” ~Ephesians 5:18-21

We worship in the Spirit. We submit to one another and sing and speak to one another in the Spirit. The Holy Spirit of God is who gives the Christian life its energy and enthusiasm. Its endurance. And power!

Be filled with the Spirit.

This is an imperative. It’s a command. So we do take some responsibility here. This singing together and submitting to one another is either the means by which we pursue this filling of the Spirit or the result of being filled with the Spirit. Or both. Either way, Paul says when we sing together, when we pray together, when we really belong to one another, we are filled with the Spirit.

And that tells me that God is not a spectator when we gather for worship. Audience of one? No way! God is not the audience of our worship. Our God is an active participant with us — inside us — when we worship together. God is not just sitting on his throne in heaven soaking up all the hallelujahs and amens. No. Through the Spirit, the Father and Son are engaged with us. Communing with us. Eating and drinking with us. Rejoicing with us. Transforming us. Changing us. Growing us. Shaping us more into the image of our Christ.

Be filled with the Spirit.

Encountering God together — in our Sunday morning assemblies, in our Wednesday night Bible classes, in our living rooms on Sunday evenings — being in the presence of God together allows us to recognize our own sinfulness and shortcomings. And that always leads to an acute recognition of his marvelous grace. And the power of God’s grace is not just forgiveness, it’s also transformation. New creature. New creation. Christ formed in you. Being saved. It’s a communal sanctification event that we participate in and experience together when we are filled with the Spirit.

Peace,

Allan

From the Lips of Children

January 30, 2013 / / 1 Comment

“He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said, ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.'” ~Matthew 18:2-3

“Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.'” ~Matthew 19:14

Why does Jesus hold up little children as the model citizens of the Kingdom? What is it about little children we’re supposed to imitate? What are we supposed to learn? What are we supposed to change? Unless you change and become like little children — forget about being the greatest in the Kingdom — you won’t even get in! What are we supposed to change?

Jesus wants to teach us through little children. Jesus wants to use little kids to show us how to live, how to act, how to trust, how to have faith. He wants to show us through the children how to enjoy all of creation, how to play, how to chill out.

Little kids know God. Little children see Jesus.

In Matthew 21 it was the children who recognized Jesus as the promised Messiah. They knew it. They saw it. And they were shouting it and singing it at the tops of their voices. The religious leaders, in their irritation, approached Jesus and demanded an explanation. Do you hear what these kids are saying? Do you hear what these children are claiming? And Jesus says, “Duh!” (That’s the Message translation.) Jesus says, in essence, “What did you expect? Don’t you know Psalm 8? From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise!”

Our kids will show us God. If we’ll only take the time to pay attention, our children will reveal Jesus to us.

We tried doing that together during our communion time this past Sunday. We had all the children stand up and raise their hands and then asked all our people to get out of their own seats to get close to a little child. Spend communion time this morning with a little kid. As we share the bread and the cup, as we remember Jesus, let’s listen to our kids. Maybe we’ll learn something from the children this morning. Maybe the kids will show us Jesus in a way we’ve never seen him before. Maybe our God will teach us something this morning he’s always wanted to teach us, but we’ve never slowed down to be with a little child long enough for it to happen. We suggested that our people ask the children a couple of questions during the Lord’s Meal: What is your favorite thing that Jesus ever did? What is your favorite thing that Jesus ever said?

Show us Jesus, kids. Lord, reveal yourself to us through the lips of these children.

I got up and walked a section over to sit right between Chloe and Creede, a brother and sister, kinda new to our congregation, whose dad was out of town on business. Perfect. Their mom and grandmother joined us. Excellent.

Creede is fourteen. All boy, through and through. The coolest thing Jesus ever did? Turning over the tables in the temple, obviously. Yes! His favorite thing Jesus ever said? Creede gave us his favorite Bible verse: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Strength. Power. Might. Control. Yeah, that’s our Jesus. Sometimes I forget how strong our Lord is. Our culture wants us to believe Jesus was some skinny, pasty, white, wimp of a guy. A nerd. Oh, no. Not our King. He’s tough. That’s the Christ of my little brother, Creede. Thank you, God, for reminding me.

Chloe is eleven. All little girl, sugar and spice and everything nice, through and through. The greatest thing Jesus ever did? Healing the blind, making those blind people happy. Her favorite Bible verse? The joy of the Lord in Nehemiah 8:10. Yes! Our Lord is a Lord of happiness and joy, of laughter and glee. Sometimes I forget how happy Jesus was and how he filled everyone who met him with such joy. He left a trail of joy behind him everywhere he went. Our culture wants us to believe Jesus was some sour guy, somber and serious, bent on making us miserable with rule-following and sin-counting. No, that is not the Jesus of the Gospels. That is not the Jesus of the apostles. Our Christ came to give us life, abundant and to the full. That’s the Christ of my little sister, Chloe. Thank you, God for reminding me.

You might try it at your own church sometime. Spend communion time with the kids, talking to the kids, listening to them. Maybe God will reveal to you during the meal, through the children, something you need to see and learn. It’s an exercise that might make us more like Christ. And it might eternally impact the kids.

Peace,

Allan

About Third Day

January 28, 2013 / / 1 Comment

Let me be perfectly clear: I absolutely did not push a little girl out of the way to catch a guitar pick tossed into the crowd by Third Day lead singer Mac Powell during Friday’s show at Amarillo High School. I don’t care what Powell said or what I heard at church here yesterday, it didn’t happen.

Through a bizarre set of circumstances and timing, yes, Carrie-Anne and I wound up on the second row, at dead-middle-center-stage, for the Third Day concert at the high school auditorium. I have no idea why Third Day was playing in Amarillo, much less in the 700-seat high school auditorium. But I decided to take Carrie-Anne. She loves Third Day. We’ve seen them once or twice when they’ve played  at the Ballpark before a Rangers game a few years ago. I’ve always been an Audio Adrenaline guy, myself. But she loves Third Day and, unbelievably, here they were playing a block and a half from our house. I don’t have the time or the space to explain how we wound up in those super-up-close seats. But, we were less than six feet from the edge of the stage.

About halfway through the show — they had already tossed a couple of picks into the crowd — Powell began telling a story about a concert in Missouri in which, after the show, some folks in the crowd actually returned the picks they had caught. He explained that if you catch a pick, it’s yours to keep, and then tossed one, I thought, right at me. I stood up to catch it but it fluttered. Picture the dotted-line flight of Snoopy’s pal, Woodstock, in the old Charlie Brown cartoons. It flipped and fluttered right through my hands and then I lost it. While I was fumbling for it just as awkwardly as you could possibly imagine, Carrie-Anne trapped it on the back of her seat. As she attempted to pick it up, Powell stepped forward and asked, “Did she get it?”

For a split-second I thought he was talking about Carrie-Anne. (Yeah, she got it!) But then Powell continued, “No, the little girl. Did the little girl get it?” There was a little eight-year-old girl sitting right behind us. A cute little blondie, one snaggle tooth in the front, pony tail. Powell leaned in to his microphone, “I meant for it to go to that girl.” By this time Carrie-Anne was holding the coveted pick. And then, almost in slow motion, she realized it was not intended for her. And everybody was looking. Carrie-Anne held the pick high over her head, closed her eyes, stuck her bottom lip way out in the most exaggerated pout in the history of women getting their way by pouting, and passed it backwards to the little girl. With her lip still out, my wife of 23 years looked right at Powell with now wide-open and pleading eyes. And he surrendered. He rushed forward to give Carrie-Anne his only remaining pick. But so did lead guitarist Mark Lee. They both stepped forward with picks for Carrie-Anne and actually jostled one another for position to get to her first. It was funny. And a little weird. Powell finally out-reached Lee and grabbed Carrie-Anne’s hand. He pulled her almost on to the stage as he handed her another pick.

It was sort of awkward the way they both tried to reach Carrie-Anne before the other. And so they discussed it. “Why were you trying to give her your pick?” “Well, I thought you only had one left and I didn’t want you to give away your last one.” “Well, no, I thought since she thought she had gotten a pick from me, then I should be the one to give her another pick, not you.” “Well, it’s okay if I give her a pick.” “Yeah, but it should have come from me.”

Then Powell looked at me and began talking to the crowd. “This guy here, I guess you’re her husband?” I nodded, beginning to be a little uncomfortable with where this might be heading. (On our second date ever, back in college, Carrie-Anne and I became the subjects of a stand-up comedian’s spontaneous song. He made fun of Carrie-Anne’s name and my summer tan. He sang, “Carrie-Anne, Carrie-Anne, lives in a garbage can, dates the garbage man with the garbage tan.” We heard about it from friends at school for the rest of the year. When Powell singled me out, I had flashbacks.) Powell continued, “This guy here, her husband, he’s pushing that little girl out of the way, holding her off, while his wife gets the pick. It’s brutal, man. Wow. You guys are tough in Texas.”

Great. I knew then I was in trouble. We had already seen Steve and Debra Cearley and Mike and Becky Robertson in the audience. Who knew how many other of our Central friends were in the auditorium? (I found out yesterday. A few more.)

After the concert, we got to meet Powell and the rest of the band for a couple of minutes. Mac agreed to take a picture with Carrie-Anne and the pick. And we shared a couple of jokes. It was a good night. They put on a good show. For the record, though, I did not push the little girl. I didn’t even know there was a little girl anywhere near us until Powell pointed it out. So, whatever you happen to hear in the coming days, I didn’t do it.

Now, if it had been Van Halen…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were so blessed two weeks ago to host the Lubbock Christian University Praise Choir and Chamber Singers here at Central. And my family and I were quadruply blessed to notice that Jalayna Ward was standing on the front row center of the stage for the performance. Jalayna is the middle child of the amazing Ward sisters, that talented trio of daughters belonging to my great friend and co-worker in the Lord, Kipi Ward. What a joy to listen to Jalayna sing again. She tore the house down during our Vacation Bible School musicals back at Legacy and she still inspires everyone who hears her beautiful voice. When Jalayna stepped forward to sing a solo during “All That Have Breath Praise Ye the Lord,” I was taken right back to the stage in that Legacy gym where Jalayna and Ashley Stein blew everybody away. It was so much fun to get caught up with Jalayna after the show, to see her engagement ring and hear about her upcoming wedding, and to get the latest info on Kipi and Hailey and Brooklyn. I remember telling Jalayna more than five years ago in that gym that our God is the one who gave her that beautiful voice and that she would always glorify him by using it for his purposes. She remembered it, too. Or, at least she claimed to. Thank you, God, for our friendship with the Wards and for the ways you provide for and bless that sweet family.

Peace,

Allan

Valerie: Happy Sweet Sixteen!

January 24, 2013 / / 2 Comments

Today our Little Middle turns sixteen. And it’s as wonderful and exciting and scary and depressing and amazing and cool as you can imagine. And, yeah, I’m a little conflicted about it.

Valerie is sixteen. And it’s different. At fourteen, they’re still little kids. At fifteen, it feels like “Oh, no, she’s moving into a different phase.” Now at sixteen, it’s “Wait a second! This is for real!” Sixteen is a full blown teenager with serious adult thoughts and tendencies. It’s responsibility and freedom, it’s abstract thinking and smart humor, it’s heavy conversations about increasingly weighty topics. And it’s boys. Good gravy, it seems like it’s most of what they talk about at sixteen. Which leads to, “Oh, no, I’m gonna lose this girl!”

I don’t want to think about it.

Sixteen years ago today, our Valerie Nicole was a nine-and-a-half pound chunk of a new born baby. She had a big, bald, round, bowling ball head and these huge eyes that people came from all over the hospital to see. She looked like a kindergartener among all the five and six pound lightweights in that nursery. Today, she’s a beautiful rail-thin twig of a young lady. Bony Maroni. And, did I mention, beautiful? And happy; she really seems happy.

Valerie enjoys her life. She loves it. Valerie loves Amarillo and Amarillo loves Valerie. She fought us tooth and nail when we moved here a year-and-a-half ago, but now she wouldn’t move back to DFW for love or money. She actually owns and wears a pair of cowboy boots. She spent this past fall working weekends and part time at the Borgers’ pumpkin farm. She listens to some cross-over country music. And she thinks she might like to work this summer at Palo Duro Canyon. Valerie has a pack of extraordinary friends both at school and at Central with whom she shares lots of meals and lots of laughs. She loves this place. It’s been so good for her. She’s thriving. And it does my heart good.

Our middle daughter and I share a lot of little things together. We both sing a lot in the truck. We sing and sing and sing. She sounds like an angel and I sound like somebody who shouldn’t be singing as loudly as I am. And we laugh. We get each other’s jokes. With just a glance across a table or a single word muttered under the radar or a subtle sound nobody else would catch, we communicate something we both think is absolutely hilarious. And we don’t think anybody else gets it. It’s special.

Of course, like most every dad who’s ever had a daughter, I’m trying to hold onto that kind of stuff for as long as I can. Praise God, for some reason Valerie still likes being with me. Maybe it’s sympathy. I’m leaving here in a few minutes to pick her and the ValPals up for a birthday lunch. She doesn’t mind hanging out with me. She pretends to actually enjoy it. And I cherish it. It’s precious to me. More and more precious with every passing birthday.

About four months ago, for the very first time ever, Valerie shooed me away in a social setting. It had never happened before. I was dropping her off at the high school on a Friday morning and actually walking in with her so I could buy our tickets to that night’s football game. As we walked across the parking lot together, her friend Chloe appeared on a nearby sidewalk. Valerie greeted her and began walking toward her. I yelled out, “Hey, Chloe!” and began walking that way, too. And Valerie said, “Dad, go away. Go away.”

I was crushed. I mumbled something like, “Okay, sorry” and kept walking toward the school office. But it was awful. Did she just tell me to go away? Yeah, she did. Oh, man, that hurt. It was a killer.

It hadn’t happened before. And it hasn’t happened since. But it gave me a weird little glimpse into the future. Some day that little middle is going to take off without me. And I’ve got to be allright with that.

But, not yet.

Our God has blessed Valerie with a wonderful sense of humor, an outgoing and infectious personality, and a heart for other people that reflects the love and mercy of our Savior. She really seems to put the needs of others ahead of her own. She’s especially sensitive to those people others might consider outcasts or misfits. She defends the weak. She gets into arguments with school teachers and classmates over religious and social issues. She challenges me. She makes me think. Valerie is smart enough and dedicated to our Christ enough to know what’s wrong with this world and what needs to happen. And she’s just rebellious enough to try to do something about it. I admire our Valerie. She’s going to do something really important in God’s Kingdom. I see it. He’s getting her ready for it. I don’t know what it’s going to be, but it might change the world. I can’t wait.

In the meantime, I’m hanging on.

Valerie will always prefer grilled cheese sandwiches to a steak dinner. She’ll always watch Little House on the Prairie and Sponge Bob. And she’ll always doodle and draw on things she’s not supposed to doodle and draw on. But, she’s growing up. Oh, man, she’s growing up. And she’s becoming as wonderfully beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.

I love you, Valerie. Happy Birthday.

Dad

Yesterday in the Chapel

January 23, 2013 / / 0 Comments

Our 83-year-old chapel is my favorite room here at Central. This beautiful worship space was built in 1930 with “liberal” stained glass windows and crosses, in the middle of the Depression, by godly men and women who lived week-to-week and rain shower to rain shower. This chapel speaks to me of tradition and heritage and legacy. It reflects customs and beliefs and practices and stories faithfully handed down generation after generation by some of the best people who ever walked on this planet. I love this chapel. And we spent a lot of time in there yesterday.

As part of our shepherd selection process, we designated yesterday as a congregational day of prayer and fasting. Our church family refrained from eating in order to pour our individual and corporate energies into prayer. We fasted and prayed for our God’s guidance as we select additional shepherds. We asked him to bless us. We thanked him for those great shepherds who have gone before here at Central and, by God’s grace, have brought us to where we are today. We prayed for our current group of elders and their wives and kids. And we begged God to bless those men who are about to be appointed by their church family to lead in the name and manner of Jesus.

Oh, it was all very well orchestrated. All of our elders and ministers signed up to pray in the chapel in 30-minute shifts. We had sheets of paper in there with Scriptures to read and names to lift up in prayer and other suggestions and ideas to guide our people as we praised and petitioned our God. Email messages with similar helps and encouragements were sent to our church family every hour on the hour. We are spread out all over Amarillo and the greater Amarillo area (Canyon, Vega, Panhandle, etc.,) but we would be united in our fasting and prayer during this important time in the on-going story of this great church.

And then God did that thing he does. And he made yesterday in the chapel much better than I could have hoped or imagined.

From 8:00 in the morning until 8:00 last night, there was a steady stream of folks coming and going in and out of that chapel. Every time I poked my head in the door to take a peek, there were at least six or seven people in there. Quietly reading the Scriptures. Praying with and for one another. Holy conversations. Praise and thanksgiving. Confession and encouragement.

I spent three different 30-minute shifts in the chapel yesterday that somehow stretched into 45 and 60-minute shifts. And it was some of the most important and meaningful time I’ve spent with our church family.

We talked together about those great men who’ve gone before. Some of these men I’ve only heard their names (over and over and over). But yesterday I got to hear first-hand how these faithful shepherds impacted these special people in eternal ways. We visited about certain men who were under serious consideration for the important task of shepherding this church family. People had questions, they had insights. Some folks wrestled together over those lists in 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1 and those conversations were helpful to me and to everyone in those two or three pews. And we prayed. We begged God for his guidance and wisdom. And we asked him to bless our church. People came to the chapel yesterday for a variety of reasons. Some people stayed for five minutes, some lingered for more than an hour. And they were all blessed. But none more so than the preacher.

Thank you, Laverne and Melanie, for honoring me by opening up your hearts in prayer as we talked together about the things we’re looking for in additional elders. Thank you, Myrl, for bringing all those emails and making sure each one of our current shepherds and their wives were lifted to our God for blessing. Thank you, Doug and Lisa and Betty and Margaret for the wonderful and holy conversation we had about shepherd qualities, for the questions you asked about specific candidates, for the prayers you worded on behalf of those men we discussed. Thank you, Tim and Brice, for putting your arms around me and thanking God with me for the wonderful people in this church who have blessed us so richly. Thank you, Larry and Callie, for getting down on your knees at the front of our chapel to lift your voices and your hearts to our loving Father. I didn’t get a chance to speak to you. But I saw you. Thank you. And thank you, Gaye. Oh, my word. Thank you, Gaye, for sharing your very soul with me yesterday. Thank you for your precious tears of joy and thanksgiving. Thank you, Gaye, for reminding me with story after story after story of how great the people are in this church and how blessed by God we are to be a part of it. Thank you, Gaye, for your transparency with me and with all of us who were in that room yesterday. And forgive me, Gaye, in advance, for stealing some of your testimony and your stories for our sermon this coming Sunday.

Thank you, Almighty God, for yesterday in the chapel. You, Father, drew our faith community together yesterday in prayer. You reminded us of your power and your matchless love. You encouraged us with warm words and concrete evidence of your grace. You moved us yesterday. To you be all praise and glory forever.

Peace,

Allan

New Class East & New Class West

January 21, 2013 / / 0 Comments

Our God is doing something really, really cool on the south side of our Bible class floor here at Central. He’s the only One who can be praised for what’s happening down there. He’s the only One who can receive any glory.

Frequent visitors to this blog know that we are moving slowly but certainly toward what we feel is a fuller expression of the Gospel of Jesus in our church settings and programs and gatherings here at Central. We’re trying to become more inter-generational. We’re attempting to break down the barriers beween the ages and genders, the walls between socio-economic classes and cultures, the hurdles between languages and race. Not everybody fits in to the nice and neat little categories we use to make up our Bible classes. If you’re not a certain age or enjoy a certain marital status or make a certain amount of money, you may not easily slide into one of our established groups. I’m not being critical; that’s just the way it is. And it’s not unlike the way it is at most Christian churches.

So nearly a year ago we began talking about a new kind of Bible class at Central, one that would chip away at the dividing walls and welcome all-comers to the one table of Christ we read about in the Prophets and the Gospels. We’ve prayed and planned, we’ve laughed and cried, we’ve been overjoyed and in distress — sometimes in the very same day! — as we prepared for the launch of this new endeavor a few weeks ago. It’s been slow go, painfully slow at times. It’s been challenging. Tough. Scary. Risky, even.

But it’s also been such a tremendous blessing.

We’ve got a little bit of everything in this class. Almost fifty saints, young and old, blue collar and white collar, educated and not, Christians who were baptized 60 years ago and Christians who were baptized last month, suits and ties and tattoos and orange hair. A few of our new class members know exactly how to act in church: they were born and raised CofC. And they’re coming to our class because they never felt like they fit in anywhere else. A few of our other class members don’t know how to “act in church.” One of them just spent a couple of weeks in jail for some offenses committed during her previous life. She’s in our class because she can’t believe she fits in anywhere!

Our class was way too big way too fast to accomplish what we believe our God is calling us to do. We believe discipleship is taught and experienced in close Christian community. We think Christian transformation happens in relationship. So even at Day One, we needed to become two classes. We were too large. And I worried about how we would do that. We talked about it. We prayed about it together. For a couple of weeks we challenged one another. Someone said, “I should choose to go into the class where I’ll be most uncomfortable. That’s probably where God wants me.” Another said, “We’re all brothers and sisters in Christ working toward the same goals; just put us in a class and let’s get on with reaching out to more people.” It was beautiful. Inspiring. But would it work?

Nearly fifty of us were in the room again yesterday morning. After we spent a few more minutes in prayer about our first “multiply” (coming in the very first month!) we lined everybody up against the wall according to the year they graduated from high school. Seriously. That’s what we did. It wasn’t quite like consulting the Urim and Thummim; it wasn’t at all like casting lots for Matthias. But it’s how we did it.

There they all were, stretched out along the wall from Ernie (class of 1949) to Blaine (class of 2006) and everybody in between. I wish somebody had taken a picture. And we numbered off. 1-2, 1-2, 1-2, 1-2 all the way down. All the 1s went to New Class West and all the 2s moved to New Class East. And both groups evenly represented the multi-generational, multi-cultural table of our Christ as described in Holy Scripture.

We studied each other’s name tags for a couple of minutes, made some connections within our new groups for a few more, and then spent some time talking about our goals for our classes. We talked about small groups, about people we know inside and outside Christ who would benefit from our Christian community, about next week and next year. And then we prayed again. Prayers of thanksgiving. Prayers of hope. Prayers of faith.

I don’t know what God’s going to do with these two new classes. I really don’t. In my wildest dreams, I’d like to think this kind of thing could change all of Central and ultimately the whole city of Amarillo. Busting out of the norms that society has established always raises eyebrows and stirs up trouble. A deep commitment to this kind of living and sharing, loving and serving together in ways that the world never, ever experiences would be a powerful testimony. This type of cultural abnormality would be an undeniable witness to our King and his power to change people and save the world. I see all the Bible classes and small groups here at Central, eventually, looking more and more like these two new classes. I see everybody in Amarillo who’s never known Christ being attracted to this radical vision of barrier-smashing and non-conformity in such a way that the whole city is turned upside down. I can see that.

What’s mind-blowingly awesome is that our Father promises to deliver more than we can ever ask or imagine.

It’s just a start. We don’t have any cool names for our classes yet or even any coffee makers or posters on the bare walls. We don’t have a leadership structure yet or even a finalized curriculum. What we do have is a common heart for the biblical picture of God’s one people around God’s one table. We have a united passion for leaning in to and working toward what our God has promised is the ultimate goal of salvation.

And now we have hard evidence of our faith in God that he is doing something really cool.

Peace,

Allan

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2026 The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑