The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

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Worthy of the Gospel of Christ

September 9, 2011 / / 2 Comments

“Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ.” ~Philippians 1:27

The apostle Paul intentionally uses political language, the very Greek words from which we get our English words “politics” and “politicians,” to drive home a very important point to the little church in Philippi: “Our citizenship is in heaven.” (Phil. 3:20)

To confess that Jesus is Lord is to say Caesar is not. To claim citizenship in heaven is to declare our allegiance, first and foremost, to God’s Kingdom, not the Empire. To conduct ourselves politically or to behave as a citizen of that Kingdom and as subjects of our crucified and resurrected King is to first understand that none of it is of this world. The Kingdom to which we belong transcends all national borders. The Kingdom respects no geographical boundaries or distinctions of powers. And as colonists living under the rule of our Christ, we rise above any national thought, national pride, or national agenda. The Gospel of Jesus levels all of us into an eternal and international community of those who follow the Savior. And it’s his Kingdom that deserves — no, demands! — our undying allegiance.

If citizens of heaven do choose to engage in the politics of America or any other earthly country, we approach it, above all, from the standpoint of our relationship with God through his Son, our only King. Scripture tells us that disciples of Jesus survive in a hostile environment not by legal proceedings against persecutors but by endurance; not by imposing a lifestyle on others through law but by living holy lives that compel others to watch us; not by destroying others with emails and sound bites but by respecting them even as we witness to the eternal truths of the Gospel; not by hating and killing but by loving and serving. And praying.

With that in mind, I want to offer a few things this weekend for your reflection as you and I remember and respond to what happened ten years ago.

Christianity Today has devoted the entirety of its current issue to Christian reflection and response to the terrorist attacks of 9-11. It’s all very good reading. Varied and provocative. There’s an especially interesting section entitled How Evangelical Leaders Have Changed Since 9/11 which contains the thoughts of preachers and pastors and authors and worship ministers and other church leaders. It’s good. The best in that section comes from William Willimon, an outstanding Christian author and theologian:

On 9/11 I thought, ‘For the most powerful, militarized nation in the world also to think of itself as an innocent victim is deadly.’ It was a rare prophetic moment for me, considering Presidents Bush and Obama have spent billions asking the military to rectify the crime of a small band of lawless individuals, destroying a couple of nations who had little to do with it, in the costliest, longest series of wars in the history of the United States.

The silence of most Christians and the giddy enthusiasm of a few, as well as the ubiquity of flags and patriotic extravaganzas in allegedly evangelical churches, says to me that American Christians may look back upon our reponse to 9/11 as our greatest Christological defeat. It was shattering to admit that we had lost the theological means to distinguish between the United States and the Kingdom of God. The criminals who perpetrated 9/11 and the flag-waving boosters of our almost exclusively martial response were of one mind: that the nonviolent way of Jesus is stupid. All of us preachers share the shame; when our people felt very vulnerable, they reached for the flag, not the cross.

September 11 has changed me. I’m going to preach as never before about Christ crucified as the answer to the question of what’s wrong with the world. I have also resolved to relentlessly reiterate from the pulpit that the worst day in history was not a Tuesday in New York, but a Friday in Jerusalem when a consortium of clergy and politicians colluded to run the world on our own terms by crucifying God’s own Son.

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My great friend Jim Martin has used his blog, A Place For the God-Hungry, to ask preachers this week what they’re going to preach this Sunday. Again, the nearly 50 comments are worth reading. They are varied and provocative. Very helpful in guiding us to reflect and respond in a manner worthy of our Lord’s Gospel.

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Our Messiah has commanded us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. As disciples of the Prince of Peace, we are also to pray and anticipate and work toward the ultimate shalom that will be realized when God’s Kingdom comes in all its glory, when our Father’s will is truly and finally done on earth just as it is in heaven. A good resource for meditation and reflection in these areas is the Book of Common Prayer. I would especially recommend the section on Prayers for Peace and Justice.

For Peace: Eternal God, in whose perfect Kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength but the strength of love; so mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and forever. Amen.

For Peace: Almighty God, kindle, we pray, in every heart the true love of peace, and guide with your wisdom those who take counsel for the nations of the earth, that in tranquility your dominion may increase until the earth is filled with the knowledge of your love; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

For Our Enemies: O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies, lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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A few months ago, Jim Gardner turned me on to Kurt Willems at The Pangea Blog. Kurt is a former classmate of Jim’s at the Fresno Pacific Biblical Seminary. You might check out his angle on how Jesus washing Judas’ feet on the night he was betrayed serves as our model for dealing with our enemies. The article is “9/11 and Jesus’ Approach to Enemies of the State.”

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My great hope is that when we gather in the name and manner of our Lord Jesus this Sunday morning we will think and speak and behave and worship in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ. While we’re naming the evil, may we also point to the sovereignty of our Father who “reigns over the nations” and “is seated on his heavenly throne.” While we’re praying for soldiers of the United States military and their families, may we also lift up the soldiers and families of the Iraq and Afghanistan armies to our God “who takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked.” And while we teach and preach on the repentance and restoration of America and America’s churches, may we also teach and preach on the redemption and the reconciliation of all of creation according to the holy will of our eternal Father.

Lord, come quickly.

Allan

The Stakes Have Never Been Higher

September 7, 2011 / / 1 Comment

“In the front pews the old ladies turn up their hearing aids, and a young lady slips her six-year-old a Lifesaver and a Magic Marker. A college sophomore home for vacation, who is there because he was dragged there, slumps forward with his chin in his hand. The vice-president of a bank who twice that week has seriously contemplated suicide places his hymnal in the rack. A pregnant girl feels the life stir inside her. A high-school math teacher, who for twenty years has managed to keep his homosexuality a secret for the most part even from himself, creases his order of service down the center with his thumbnail and tucks it under his knee. The preacher pulls the little cord that turns on the lectern light and deals out his note cards like a riverboat gambler. The stakes have never been higher.”

                                                                        ~Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth

I’ll forever be amazed by the great mystery of preaching. I have very little idea how it works. I don’t know how God’s Holy Spirit overcomes my inadequacies, my shortcomings, my sins, and consistently delivers the Word directly into the hearts of the people who need to hear it. I’m not sure how our Father uses the proclaimed Word to comfort people, to challenge people, to transform people more and more into the perfect image of his Son.

But I’m humbled to be in the middle of it.

The stakes are high every single time I dare step into that pulpit and attempt to speak a faithful word from God. There are people leaning in to listen whom I’ve never met. There are people present who are only there because they mustered up every piece of physical and emotional strength they had to make it; and they might not be back. There are angry people who believe God is mad at them. There are proud people who are hiding sin. There are hopeless people desperate for a word of grace, dying for a glimmer of redemption.

And I’m going to say something to them that will make an eternal difference in their lives?

No. No chance. It’s impossible.

I mean… yes, of course. Absolutely. It happens every Sunday.

By the grace of our God and the truth of his Word and the power of his Spirit, it happens. And I am humbled. And forever amazed. And trying desperately to be worthy of it all.

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I don’t want to jinx anything. I know it’s early. And things aren’t nearly as certain as they were this time last year. It’s terrifyingly close. Too close. But we’ve got to start keeping track of the magic number.

The Rangers’ magic number is 17. Any combination of Rangers wins and Angels losses that add up to 17 will give the Rangers their fifth division title in franchise history and send them back to the postseason. According to coolstandings.com, the Rangers have a 91% chance of making the playoffs. And the way they’re playing right now, I believe it. Ceej got his first ever complete game shutout last night for his 15th win of the year. The Rangers have now broken their club record for shutouts in a season with 18. Murph and Kins are smashing the ball all over the field. And it’s starting to look like Mike Adams is this year’s Cliff Lee.

Seventeen. And counting…

Peace,

Allan

Mind the Gap

September 6, 2011 / / 5 Comments

During our 26 hours in London last summer on our return home from Kharkov, Ukraine, Carrie-Anne and I became quite comfortable riding the underground trains. Everything was clearly labeled, simple to find, not that big of a deal at all. I found myself especially intrigued by the “Mind the Gap” signs that were everywhere: in the stations, at the ticket counters, along the turnstiles, in the que, and even on the trains themselves. “Mind the Gap.” The friendly female voice on the recorded information messages reminded us at every stop to “mind the gap.”

See, there’s a gap between the train platform and the train itself. It’s no more than three or four inches across. It’s nothing really. I don’t think I ever would have noticed if it hadn’t been pointed out to me. Sometimes there’s a two or three inch difference in height, too, where the platform and the train come together. And, apparently, people were tripping on the gap and hurting themselves. So, a public service announcement program was born.

“Mind the Gap.” T-shirts. Billboards. Signs. Coffee mugs and computer mouse pads. “Mind the Gap.” Pay attention to the gap. Don’t forget the gap. Watch out for the gap. Don’t trip up on the gap.

There’s a gap between what we’re attempting to do in corporate worship each Sunday morning and what we’re actually doing. There’s a serious difference between who we are and who God is. When we gather to worship, there’s a canyon of contrast, a black hole of incongruity when it comes to what we think we’re doing and what’s actually taking place.

For a couple of weeks now, Kevin (Central’s amazing worship minister) and I have been planning my first Sunday. We’re less than two weeks away. We’re planning the songs. We’re planning the Scripture readings. We’re planning the prayers. The order. The communion service. The elders’ charge to me as the new preacher here. The appreciation we plan to show the search committee. We want it to be perfect. We want it to flow seamlessly. We want everything to work. We pray over it. We worry about it. We work it and re-work it together. Song and sermon and prayer and holy communion. God must be glorified and his children must be inspired. Song and prayer and sermon and communion. Do it again. We must take our people straight to his throne. We must pour ourselves out to our Father. Song and prayer, Word and table.

Even as we meticulously plan, I’m mindful of the gap.

What must our worship efforts look like to our holy God? Are they pitiful? Misguided? Sad? Shallow? Tragically funny? Do we miss the point entirely?

Annie Dillard wrote, “In two thousand years, we have not worked out the kinks. We positively glorify them. Week after week we witness the same miracle: that God is so mighty he can stifle his own laughter.”

I am always mindful of the gap. As I prepare sermons and dare to speak a Word from God to his people, I think about the gap. As I attempt to tie our table time directly to that Word each Sunday with a neatly composed prayer or a perfectly placed passage of Scripture, I remember the gap.

It’s there. I’m aware of it. But because of God’s matchless grace, I will not be tripped up by it. I won’t let it stop me from doing my best to please him and to encourage his people. Our Father smiles at our best and honest efforts, no matter how eternally foolish they may ultimately be. Mind the gap, yes. Be aware of it. But do not allow it to be a hurdle or a barrier between us and God. His patience is unlimited. His grace is beyond measure. His love for us is too great to adequately describe. And it renders the gap powerless against us.

Peace,

Allan

I Will Carry You

September 2, 2011 / / 4 Comments

“Even to your old age and gray hairs
I am he, I am he who will sustain you;
I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” ~Isaiah 46:4

God speaks through his prophet in Isaiah 46 about the foolishness of our idols. He shows his people the absurdity of putting our faith in idols. God’s people were worshiping Bel and Nebo, Babylonian and Canaanite gods, right alongside Yahweh. They were worshiping God, yes. But at the same time they were hedging their bets, covering their bases — political, cultural, agricultural — by including all the regional gods of the land, too.

Technically, it’s called syncretism. Practically, I’d call it materialism. Or consumerism. Or nationalism.

The picture painted in Isaiah 46 is graphic. God’s people are burdened by their idols, having to carry their idols, even as they’re marched off to captivity in Babylon for worshiping those idols. They’re being driven out of God’s Promised Land and they’re carrying their idols with them.

And God says, “Listen to me! I will carry you!”

You’re carrying these lifeless idols around, these idols that can’t save you or protect you. You’re carrying them. And you’re bent over and weakened by the weight. They make the idols and then are forced to carry them. And our Lord points out the insanity of that when he says, “I have made you and I will carry you!”

We’re all getting older. Our hair is going to turn gray. Or turn loose. Or both. The instability of the economy scares us. The tenuous nature of the world’s governments unnerves us. Wars threaten us. Healthcare seems to be increasingly lacking for us. Everything’s changing. Nothing much seems dependable. And Isaiah 46 shows us very clearly the utter foolishness and sin of trusting in politics and governments and technology and goods for our peace. In the midst of the change and the turmoil and the uncertainty that surrounds us and sometimes overwhelms us, our mighty God says:

“Remember this. Fix it in your mind. Take it to your heart. I am God. And there is no other. I am God. And there is none like me.” (46:8-9)

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I’m still not real sure what “Howdy Week” is at Amarillo High. But Whitney and Valerie have been in costume for the past five days. It was 80s dress for Time Travel Tuesday. Suspenders and thick black glasses for NerdsDay. But today they’re sporting their dad’s old maroon and gold for Frat Friday. Eggleston will appreciate this picture of my two older daughters wearing Delta jerseys. Byrnes and Frost will make some immature comments about it that will betray their pathetic Sigma jealousies. When John-Tern sees it, he will laugh out loud.

But it just makes me proud.

Go Sandies.

Allan

Home in Amarillo

August 31, 2011 / / 1 Comment

It’s starting to feel like home. I’m starting to feel like we belong here. In the middle of our third full week at Central, I’m getting comfortable.

My autographed Ring of Honor Bob Lilly print is up on the wall in my study. The Staubach-Aikman football has found its place under glass in the center of my bookshelves. The Tex Schramm card, the Rangers nesting dolls, and Jerry Plemons’ praying hands from Israel are resting in their designated spots. It looks right.

I’ve learned to navigate the 19-different staircases that get me from the offices down to Sneed Hall without getting lost. When I get to the top or bottom of each landing, I still have to pause and look both ways to get my bearings. But I’m not getting lost anymore.

Vickie is comfortable enough with me to have reclaimed her seat around the tables in the Upper Room. She had to wake up early today, fight through the traffic on I-27, and beat me up the stairs. But she did it. Now I’m looking for a new chair. I’ve been told I can have any of them. Except one.

I can run down the streets now in my mind, in order, without even thinking about it: Soncy, Coulter, Bell, Western, etc., all the way to church and back. Steve and Judy have shown me every single Sonic in Amarillo. I’ve eaten at the Whataburger on Georgia Street.

I own and proudly wear an Amarillo High School Sandies T-shirt.

Valerie has a new pair of cowboy boots.

I’ve spent enough time now with my co-ministers to start feeling comfortable. The fact that Matt wears a hair band and Greg doesn’t wear socks seems normal to me now. I’ve gotten used to Tanner’s Tarheels hat and Mary’s love for the Red Sox. I enjoy the fact that I’m not the loudest member of this ministry team; Adam is by far the loudest human being I’ve ever been around. If I need to find Mark before 8:30 in the morning I call Calico County. If we start talking about sports, I know that Kevin will leave the room; if we start talking about anything else, I know that Kevin is likely to break out into song. And that seems right. When Bob speaks, everybody listens. And when I need help with my computer or my printer or the network or anything else that plugs into the wall, I scream for Hannah. And when all I needed to do was simply follow an on-screen prompt or replace an ink cartridge, she won’t tell anybody.

I may never get totally used to the smell when the winds are out of the southwest. I will probably never embrace all the Texas Tech stuff around here. And there’s no way I’ll ever possibly meet and keep straight all the people who are related to Mark & Gina Love. But Amarillo is beginning to feel like home.

The wonderful, generous, patient, kind people here are making it really easy.

Peace,

Allan

Weary of Holding It In

August 29, 2011 / / 6 Comments

“His Word is in my heart like a fire,
a fire shut up in my bones.
I am weary of holding it in;
indeed, I cannot” ~Jeremiah 20:9

Sunday was torture. The past two Sundays, in fact, have been impossibly difficult for me. For two Resurrection Days in a row I have found myself sitting near the front of the worship center, surrounded by my brothers and sisters in Christ — my church; my church family! — and listening to someone else preach the sermon.

Now, please don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t enjoy listening to Jerry Taylor, the esteemed ACU professor who’s preaching here at Central every Sunday between now and when I start on September 18. I love listening to Jerry Taylor. Jerry’s powerful, authoritative, smooooooooth delivery combined with his expert’s grasp of the Scriptures fueled by the energy of God’s Holy Spirit makes for just about the best preaching anybody could ever hope to hear. I could listen to Jerry for hours. For days.

It’s not at all like what John Bailey says about sitting through some sermons: If I’m going to listen to mediocre preaching, I’d rather be the one doing it.

That’s not it at all. It’s that this is my church and these are my brothers and sisters and I’m their preacher! I’m the preacher here. And I’m supposed to be preaching.

God has given me things to say. Our Father has opened my eyes and my heart to truths in his Holy Word that must be revealed, that must be proclaimed by me. God has brought me here, he has pushed me here, to speak his will and to proclaim his purpose. He’s led me here to comfort and console, to provoke and challenge and upset, to exhort and encourage from his all-sufficient Scriptures.

Construction workers dig holes. Linebackers make tackles. Texans say “y’all.” And preachers preach.

I was made to preach. Called to preach. Equipped and empowered to preach.

I was completely on board with the initial time line that had us moving to Amarillo on August 12, getting unpacked and settled in, registering the kids for school, getting my study set up, and getting to know people before I dove into the preaching. It sounded great. Time to refresh. Time to rejuvenate. Time to meditate and revive, to get my head right with God and his Word. Time to pray. Time to worship with my new church family. Just worship. Time to meet people, to get to know my staff, to form a few relationships before attempting to speak to them a word from our God. What a gracious gesture on behalf of Central’s shepherds. What a nice big-picture view of our partnership together. What a clear indication of their love for and appreciation for their new minister. Yes. Thank you. Wow. I really appreciate it. Yes, it’s been perfect. Honestly, it’s been great.

Until last Sunday. And again yesterday.

God, grant me patience. I’m weary of holding it in.

Peace,

Allan

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