Author: Allan (Page 373 of 492)

This Is Not God’s Way

Winston Churchill told a story about a little boy who was playing on a pier and tumbled over into the water. The boy couldn’t swim and began to cry out for help. A soldier working at a nearby dock heard the desperate screams and dove into the sea. This brave young man swam out to the child, put him on his back, and brought him safely back to shore and into the loving and nurturing arms of the cheering crowd. The next day, the little boy’s mother came back to the docks looking for the courageous soldier. When the pier workers pointed her toward her child’s rescuer, she walked right up to him and asked, “Young man, are you the one who saved my little boy?”

The soldier stood up. His chest began to swell and a smile broke out on his face as he answered her, “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

The woman leaned in and looked right into his eyes, “Where’s his cap?!?”

We preachers and ministers and elders and other church staff believe we are called by God. We believe we are charged by God to do the things we do in the name of his Son. It’s a high calling. It’s a noble vocation. It’s not a nine-to-five gig. It’s an all-consuming passion that compels us to preach and teach and pray and serve.

So when we answer that call from our Lord and move into the ministry, we all believe we’re entering a holy, God-sanctified realm. But the reality for most of us is that we’ve entered a system, a man-created and human-perpetuated system that grinds up and spits out preachers and elders. Broken preachers and elders are all around us. A lot of them are still working. A lot of them are not. Burned out. Trashed. Used. Abused. Walked all over. Stomped on. Chewed up and spit out like the gunk on the floor of a major league dugout.

The expectations we place on preachers and elders, the ways we treat them, the things we say to them and about them — behind their backs and even to their faces! — the things we demand of them, the attitudes of ownership and entitlement that guide our interactions with them, none of that is from God. We’ve been a part of this sick system for so long, we think it’s God’s way. But it’s not. It’s the human way. It’s the world’s way. The way we generally treat preachers and elders is not God’s way.

The reason wives and families of ministers and elders resent the church, the reason so many of our best and strongest and most faithful men refuse to serve when the church calls, the reason so few of our most gifted young people are interested in the call to preach and minister is that they all know they’re not entering into a holy partnership with God and his people as much as they’re entering into a life-sucking, soul-robbing, energy-draining system.

It’s not supposed to be this way. It doesn’t have to be this way.

It needs to change. We can do better. And we should.

The call from our God is for us to live in mutually-encouraging relationships in Christ. We are to “fan into flame” the gifts from God we see in our preachers and elders, not explode all over them with soaking wet, white fire extinguisher foam.

We are all holy people, set apart by our God to serve his holy purposes. Our interactions with one another should also be holy. They should encourage and inspire, not discourage and depress. We should express gratitude, not attitude. Instead of arguing and complaining and criticizing, our words and actions toward those who serve us should be motivated by the Spirit who lives inside us, the Spirit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law. And no system.

Peace,

Allan

Thank You, Cliff Lee

So, Lee signs with the Phillies for less money and years than the Yankees and Rangers were offering. It’s OK. It really is. Texas did not lose the free-agent jewel to the Evil Empire. Today the Rangers are still better than the Yankees. And Lee’s surprise move reminds us that, sometimes, it can be about more than just the dollar signs. Excellent.

Look, we knew in July that Lee was only a rent-a-player. We had no expectations that he would be here in 2011. It was out of the realm of possibility. It wasn’t even worth talking about. The only reason any of us believed he might even possibly consider re-signing in Arlington is because he did help take Texas to the World Series.

The fact that he did that is enough to be thankful for. There’s no whining or crying today over losing Lee. None. Only gratitude. Only thanksgiving. Only appreciation.

Jamey Newberg says it best in his daily column:

Thanks, Cliff.

Thanks for the four greatest sports months of my life.  Thanks for the greatness, the dominant precision, the artistry.  The way you pitched, the way you competed.  The occasional transcendence. Thanks for October 6.  And for October 12, and the Don Draper cool of that march toward Bengie Molina and everything that happened in the three hours that led up to it. Thanks for October 18.  Man, thank you for that. 

Thanks for doing your part to make a playoff team a World Series team.  Maybe more than once.

Sure do appreciate you not signing with New York.  A lot.

I wasn’t surprised when I read last night that you called Jon Daniels yourself to tell him you were signing with Philadelphia.  I was entertained that you had your agent call Brian Cashman to deliver the same message.

I wanted you back in Texas, but the years and dollars that the bidding had gone to scared me.  Still wanted you here, but when the offers got as crazy as they did, I found myself more preoccupied with you not ending up with the Yankees.

Emotionally, it does stink that Texas reportedly offered the most lucrative contract and that, despite every indication that Lee loved his Texas teammates and despite proximity and lifestyle and tax laws and the strength and promise of the team around him and December hunts with Tommy Hunter while everyone else was on the edge of their Winter Meetings seats, it wasn’t enough.

But unemotionally?  (And sorta emotionally?)  I don’t blame Lee at all, and really I’m not all that torn up.  The biggest sports moments in my lifetime have been adrenaline rushes and kicks in the gut.  This one was really different, has an oddly surprising calm to it.  Hearing that Lee chose Philadelphia, that Lee didn’t choose Texas and didn’t choose New York, struck me as good news.  I would have never expected that reaction (and, despite the fear over the financial commitment, would have never had the same reaction if he chose pinstripes).

I’m not trying to rationalize this.  I realized two days ago, as we’ve talked about, that it was starting to feel more important to me to see the Yankees not get Lee than for Texas to sign him to what many of us – and I bet some of the Rangers’ decision-makers – knew deep down was a bad baseball contract.  I’m content with this, until we see what the Rangers do next.

Whoever Plan B is, will he be as good as Lee?  Probably not, but we’ll see.  Some think Greinke, in particular, will produce more over the next five years than Lee.  Far more unknowns with Greinke, though. Will Plan B leave Texas more money to address other needs, now or in July?  Yes. Will Plan B come off the books himself in two years, maybe three?  If so, then we go get the next young ace.

I love Cliff Lee.  There’s never been a pitcher quite like him in Texas, and there’s never been a season in Texas anything like 2010, which without Lee would have ended sooner.  The Rangers’ opportunistic move to get Lee in July, and his part in the four months that followed to give us that season, will stand forever among the greatest rewards I’ve had as a sports fan.  Forever. For that, Cliff, no matter what happens from here on out for you or for Texas, let me just say, once again:

Thank you.

Ditto,

Allan

All-Time Low

The storied history of the Dallas Cowboys contains many embarrassing moments. Clint Longley’s sucker-punch of Roger Staubach, Jay Saldi’s acting, Rod Hill, Barry Switzer’s gun arrest, Switzer’s “Load Left,” the 1986 Christmas video, the White House, “No, Danny, no!”, Campo’s three years, Tex Schramm’s treatment of Lee Roy Jordan, Jerry Wayne’s treatment of Tom Landry, Rafael Septien’s sin, the price of nachos at the new stadium. Plenty of things the Cowboys would rather sweep under the rug.

Does anything compare to the utter shame in what happened in the seconds immediately following last night’s three-point loss to the Eagles?

It happened right at midfield, just a few feet from the giant Cowboys star that, at one time, was worth defending. After a gut-wrenching home loss to the hated division rival Eagles that officially eliminated Dallas from postseason contention, there was Cowboys running back Tashard Choice chasing down Philly quarterback Michael Vick for an autograph. Like a star-struck eight-year-old, thrilled to death to just be in the presence of such greatness, Choice beamed wide-eyed at Vick as he scribbled his name across Choice’s extended glove.

I hit the backup button on my DVR and watched it four times before I could really comprehend it.

Sickening.

I understand I’m not a young man anymore. I know it. I hung our Christmas lights on the house Friday and my legs are still killing me today. And I know I sound like an old man when I criticize Choice for his ill-timed request of his conquering foe. But, good gravy! These are not the Cowboys I cheered for as a kid.

The Cowboys I cheered for were led by Harvey Martin, who once threw a funeral wreath into the Redskins locker room after a division-clinching win. They were captained by Dennis Thurman, whose “thieves” once famously broke up the Washington Fun Bunch in the Texas Stadium end zone. Cliff Harris wound up on his rear end, but he didn’t let Jack Lambert push him around. Jimmy Johnson chased down Buddy Ryan to give him a piece of his mind after a game in ’89. When Joe Theisman ran around in the back of the end zone to run time off the clock before kneeling for a safety in a 9-5 win, Charlie Waters almost decapitated him. George Teague did his thing to T. O. long after I stopped rooting for this team, but I appreciated his attitude.

Tashard’s autograph request was an all-time low. His explanations and excuses are running a close second. I was bothered by the ho-hum reaction to DeSean Jackson’s pirouette and Nestea iced-tea plunge at the one-yard-line during what turned out to be the game-winning touchdown. Terrence Newman and Gerald Ball just stood there. But I’m more disturbed to think that while the Cowboys offense was gathered on the sidelines in the closing minutes, hoping for a final shot to win or tie the game, Choice was busy looking for a pen.

Over the past five weeks, I’ve found myself secretly hoping for success for Jason Garrett. If he’ll send Choice to the “asthma field”  this week for his nationally televised post-game brain-lock, Garrett might could win me all the way back.

Peace,

Allan

Two Kinds of People

From the rumor mill… I just got off the phone with a very reliable source in Benton, Arkansas, the home of free-agent ace and savior Cliff Lee and the center of the baseball universe. (The source is a gospel preacher and a great friend of mine. It doesn’t get any more reliable!) The informant tells me that Lee’s granddad was in the downtown Benton bank this morning and was overheard telling a buddy, “Cliff’s going to sign with the Yankees. And we’re going to disown him from the family!”

You heard it here first.

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You will be wowed — quite possibly overcome — by this rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus. Click here to check out this very different version performed to the glory of God by the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. Set aside six minutes of your life and be blown away by this. If you’re an impatient Cretan, forward to the 2:25 mark and let it rip. I’ve never heard any arrangement like that. Ever. Not even close. Goosebumps, man. Big time. Wow.

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First Tulsa Workshop preview — You already know what a big fan I am of the annual Tulsa Workshop. Every March, it’s one of the most anticipated and rewarding spiritual highlights of my year. This year, Terry Rush and the Workshop organizers are planning several sessions that are dedicated specifically “For Elders Only” and “For Children’s Ministers Only” and “For Preachers Only.” The speakers for those special sessions include such heavyweights as Don McLaughlin, Rick Atchley, Al Maxey, and Terry himself. The elders sessions are going to be facilitated by the Memorial Drive shepherds. I can’t recommend that highly enough. I’ve been with those elders there. I’ve spent time with them. I’ve prayed with them. They’ve prayed for me. They’ve blessed me. They know what they’re doing. They’re elders in our Lord’s Church and they love it. If you can get your elders to Tulsa this year, do it! Terry provides a sneak peak at this part of the schedule on his blog here.

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“The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” ~1 Corinthians 1:18

There are two kinds of people: those who are dying and those who are being saved. Paul makes it pretty plain. All of Scripture confirms what the apostle knew. The message of Jesus — his life, his teachings, his death and resurrection — is difficult to accept. It doesn’t make sense with our contemporary eyes. It contradicts everything we’re taught by society. It flies in the face of contemporary culture. It’s offensive to the values of the country in which we live.

Honestly, it’s the exact opposite of some of our own strongly held beliefs and practices.

May our Father give us eyes to see Jesus as the Holy Son of God, not just a really good man; the belief to view the cross of Jesus as our eternal victory, not a scandalous or embarrassing defeat; the faith to embrace the Resurrection as our certain destiny, not just an amazing story; and the trust to submit fully to Christ’s eternal reign as something real for us, not just an abstract idea.

Peace,

Allan

Turn Out The Lights

I didn’t get the news until about 8:45 this morning, right before our church staff meeting. My sister, Rhonda, texted me:

Dandy Don is dead. Turn out the lights…

Our Youth Minister, Jason Brown, walked by my door. I told him, “Don Meredith has died.” Jason looked at me with a blank stare. “Who’s Don Meredith?”

I know. I just shook my head. Dismissively.

Don Meredith, the very first Dallas Cowboy, signed to a personal services contract in the fall of 1959, months before the franchise was admitted into the NFL. All-America quarterback for SMU. Captained the Cowboys from 0-11-1 expansion futility to the brink of glory as “Next Year’s Champions.” (Eddie LeBaron was only a caretaker until the future of the franchise, Meredith, could be ready.) Cowboys Ring of Honor. Monday Night Football icon. Movie star. Life of the party. Legend.

Meredith never got along with Tom Landry. A quarterback who sang “Honky Tonk Angels” in the huddle during the fourth quarter of division games, of course, would rub the Stoic One the wrong way. Landry never thought Meredith worked hard enough or took things seriously enough. Dandy Don thought Landry needed to lighten up. The two made it work and, I think, earned each other’s respect until Meredith was too beaten up physically and emotionally to take it anymore. He always regretted that, on the day he walked into the coach’s office to announce his retirement, Landry didn’t try to talk him out of it.

He was under appreciated as a Cowboy.

Nobody was tougher under the circumstances. Nobody endured more. Nobody took more abuse. Nobody ever exhibited the same grace. Quarterbacking that lousy expansion club full of walk-ons and other team’ rejects as well as he did should be seen as the heroic thing it was.

“Number 17 in your program, number one in your heart.”

It’s sad that a lot of really good people don’t get their due, they don’t receive the recognition, until they’re dead and not around to experience it. I’m thinking that’s what’s going to happen with Dandy Don. We’ll see clips on the news tonight of Meredith throwing long passes in a near-empty Cotton Bowl, eluding would-be tacklers as the pocket breaks down yet again, stomping around in the ice in Green Bay. ESPN will bring us tons of his best barbs and one-liners from the ABC broadcast booth at the expense of Howard Cossell. And they’ll all talk about what might have been. If Landry could have relaxed a bit, then Meredith would have excelled and would be considered one of the all-time greats. Meredith was great but the team around him was so lousy.

As Dandy Don himself always said: If “ifs” and “buts” were candies and nuts, we’d all have a merry Christmas.

Turn out the lights, the party’s over. They say that all good things must end.

Peace,

Allan

Of Elders Meetings, Atheists, and Huskers

Scattershooting while wondering whatever happened to Steve Pelluer…

At the beginning of last night’s elders / ministers  meeting, one of our saintly-est members walked in out of the blue to pray for us. He told us he appreciated us, that he prays for us every day, and that he believes we’re all doing the right things. He prayed for us. He thanked God for us. He asked God to bless us and our families. He asked God to protect us. And this wonderful man thanked us again for allowing him the privilege of working for the Lord at this congregation. Then he begged us to use him even more. As he walked out, he patted a few of us on the back. We had been blessed.

A similar thing happened at the beginning of last month’s meeting. A couple who have only been Legacy members for about eight weeks popped in to meet everybody. They shook our  hands, and expressed a desire to pray for us. They told us they loved this church, they supported the leadership, and they had every intention of getting busy in God’s work here. And we prayed. And we were blessed.

What a breath of fresh air. What a shot in the arm. What a glorious gift of affirmation and encouragement from our Father through these dear brothers and sisters. And what a carry-over effect it seems to have throughout our meeting! Both of our past two meetings have gone really, really well. I think we’re happier, more confident, more willing to step up and do the right things, less willing to get bogged down in unimportant matters.

We always open up our time together in those Thursday meetings with a passage from Scripture and prayer. I’ve always thought that’s the best way to begin any elders’ meeting — the only way. Now, I’m re-thinking it. The past two meetings have started off really nicely.

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By now you’ve seen the stories and heard the news about the four city of Fort Worth buses that will be sporting atheist advertising on their sides beginning next week. The DFW Coalition of Reason purchased the ads for a little over $2,480 to run for 30 days. They say the slogan on the boards, “Millions of Americans are good without God,” is intended to encourage people who don’t believe in God during the Christmas season when they can feel so left out and isolated. The Christians who are being interviewed for the stories, however, see the billboards as offensive and insulting.

Yeah, the ads are insulting to Christian disciples. To suggest that one must abandon all reason to accept God as Almighty Creator or Christ as Lord is terribly offensive to me.

Now there are groups of church leaders and pastors and ministers who are pushing for a boycott of the Fort Worth Public Transit system as long as the ads are displayed on the sides of these four buses. One local preacher I saw on TV last night declared something along the lines of “If the signs go up, we will walk!” He added that their Christian boycott will “force” the city to remove these ads that “don’t agree with what we believe!” The premise of a boycott is that the offenders will be pressured by money, the potential loss of money, and bow to the boycotters’ demands. It’s an economic battle. A fight fought with weapons of money and commerce.

I know that Christ Jesus never forced his way onto anybody. He never imposed his will on anybody. He never used a position of strength to get his way. He never gathered up large groups of disciples to subdue by power those who opposed him. He never tried to influence with money. He never threatened. He never intimidated or bullied. What in the world makes Christians today think that’s the best way to handle these kinds of situations?

I imagine actually riding the buses would be a much better idea for Christians who really do want to be more like their King. I imagine the billboards would provide the perfect starter for spiritual conversations. I imagine perfect strangers on these buses — especially on one of the four buses — will be talking about the ads. “Hey, we’re actually riding one of the buses that’s causing all the uproar!”

“I don’t think it’s that big a deal. What do you think?”

And there it is. Your opportunity to share your faith. Your opening to profess your belief in a Sovereign God and his crucified and resurrected Son. Your platform to declare your hope and your peace and the heavenly source of your eternal life.

Every day we’re met with moments in which we can act like Christ or act in a way that denies Christ. I don’t believe there’s such a thing as a “christian boycott.”

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Nebraska plays OU for the Big XII title tomorrow night. And I’m torn.

On the one hand, everything in my very, very Texas bones cries out against Zero-U. My four years at Oklahoma Christian and exposure to Sooners fans there only solidified my inherited bias against the Crimson and Cream. I can’t root for OU.

But, Nebraska? I can’t cheer for them either. I’ve never personally held anything agaisnt Nebraska. I always thought Tom Osbourn versus Barry Switzer was an easy call. But Bo Pelini is a different story. Hard to root for a guy who seemingly treats players and officials and his own coaches as less than human. But the bigger issue at hand is Nebraska’s pending Big XII defection. They’re leaving the conference, abandoning the league because they feel they’re mistreated by a Texas bias. We can’t have the Huskers leave the Big XII with the championship trophy!

It should be a fantastic game. The bitter hatred between these two teams goes back more than a hundred years. This is one of the greatest rivalries in college football. And there hasn’t been this much riding on a Nebraska-Oklahoma game in decades. It’ll be nuts inside Jerry’s Stadium. And I’m going to be blessed to enjoy the game wtih one of my greatest friends, good ol’ Dan Miller, and his family. Dan is a Husker to the core. Life long. He grew up just outside Lincoln. Went to school at Nebraska. He’s been foaming at the mouth for a month.

You won’t catch me wearing red. And I’ll never sing that most banal and tiresome of fight songs, Boomer Sooner. But I’m cheering for Zero-U tomorrow.

Don’t tell anybody.

Peace,

Allan

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