The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

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Category: Allan’s Journey (Page 16 of 29)

Post #1,000

October 19, 2012 / / 4 Comments

My plane landed here in Amarillo at just after 2:00 yesterday afternoon. It gave me just enough time to get to Bonham Middle School to pick up Carley, get unpacked and cleaned up for dinner with the family, and make it to Bivins Stadium to watch the Sandies remain undefeated in district play by hanging 70-points on Caprock. I dragged into the church office here at just after 9:00 and discovered, a little later, that a full color portrait of Dan Bouchelle was hanging in my bathroom, right above the toilet. I was startled, to say the least. It was both funny and creepy. I’m not sure who replaced my picture of Steve Martin from a scene in the The Jerk with Bouchelle’s mug, but it’s good. You got me. Greg? Matt? Adam and Mary are long-shots. I’m guessing it was Greg and/or Matt.

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My very first blog post was on June 4, 2007, the morning after my very first official sermon at the Legacy Church of Christ in North Richland Hills. My plans then were to use this website to encourage and teach and support my local church family and the Kingdom of God worldwide. I said then I would also use the blog to post updates about my own family (four girls and a guy!). And I admitted this blog would also occasionally serve as an outlet for the sports thoughts and opinions that back up inside my brain. 

Today marks post number 1,000. To commemorate this historic occasion, here’s a link to that very first post a little over five years ago.

Much better than that, here’s a link to the post that generated the most comments (35) of any single post in the brief history of this site. The day I accidentally killed Valerie’s birthday gerbil led to a pretty nice article about rodent hygiene. But the resulting comments from friends and family and complete strangers made it memorable beyond description. Click here for that post and the complete discussion that followed, which included a philosophical debate about intentional and unintentional “accidents,” quotes from WKRP, a clever re-do of Allen Iverson’s famous “playoffs?!!?” speech, and a link to one of the funniest Super Bowl commercials of all time, the Outpost ad in which several hamsters are loaded into a cannon and shot into a plywood wall. Take about five minutes and check it out. You’ll be glad you did.

I’m not sure anything can ever top that gerbil post. So I won’t even attempt to write anything new today. This 1,000th post will only be about giving away the celebratory prizes. Those of you who posted comments on this site since September 20 were all entered into a drawing — multiple comments on multiple days resulted in multiple entrys. The names were drawn just a few moments ago from a cardboard box that originally held an Elvis Andrus bobblehead. Here are the names of the winners and the book(s) that lucky reader/poster has won:

Grand Prize – Chris Drake (Rob’s Dad) – all three books in the John Mark Hicks series on the sacraments of the Church of Christ. Come to the Table, Down in the River to Pray, and A Gathered People. This will be good reading for my confused Episcopalian friend.

First Prize – Jason Reeves – Resident Aliens. Jason, I know you’ve already got a copy of this book. Give it to one of your elders. Somebody besides Ray. I made him buy one while we were in Abilene last month. Or work out a trade with Graham.

Second Prize – Graham Bates – Surprised by Hope. Graham, I’ve never met you; I hope you love this book by N. T. Wright. Don’t let Jason talk you into a trade.

Third Prize – Chris Adair – The Reason for God. Strength through Unity, Dependability, and Pride. See you in April, brother. Delta rules!

Fourth Prize – Paul Dennis – The Screwtape Letters. I can’t believe we let an OU fan win a prize.

Fifth Prize – Jocelyn Boyer – The Jesus Way. I can’t wait to hear what you think of this book.

I’ll be in touch with all the winners by email before the weekend is done.

Thank you so much for participating. I’m so grateful to each of you who read and comment, who encourage and support me while I openly wrestle with and grow in my Christian faith. May our Lord use this little website to his eternal glory and praise.

Peace,

Allan

Behind the Pine Curtain

October 15, 2012 / / 2 Comments

I’m writing this morning from the library at the Chandler Street Church of Christ in Kilgore, Texas where I’m in the middle of preaching seven times in four days at the church’s annual Gospel Meeting. I was so happy to accept the invitation almost five years ago and I’m thrilled to finally be here this week. I won’t post another article here until Friday. That 1,000th post will contain the names of the winners in our drawing for all the books. In the meantime, I’ll be checking all the comments and engaging in those on-going conversations and you’ll have these three or four days to become eligible for the prizes.

In 2005, when Carrie-Anne and I finally got up the guts or the faith (both!) to leave sports radio and enter full-time congregational ministry, the Chandler Street church way out here in East Texas said, “Yeah, we want in on that!” Chandler Street jumped in early with a commitment to help in financially supporting my family and me while we moved to Austin for a Master’s Degree in Theology. I hope it wasn’t just that my dad and my uncle are elders at this congregation. I know it helped; but I pray that wasn’t the only thing. Even if it was, our God blessed us tremendously through the people at this place. They put a trust in me, they showed some real faith in me, and they barely knew me at all. I’ve always held that trust sacred. I’ve always been grateful to this church for their belief in me. And I’ve looked forward to this week ever since to tell them “thank you” from the pulpit in their church, to let them know how much they mean to me, and to assure them that I’ll never forget.

It’s been so good.

In yesterday’s opening prayer, Archie asked God to give me a “ready recollection.” Seriously. John Kyles promised he’d do his best to stay awake. My dad led singing. Uncle Gerald gave me an introduction that was way too kind. And we dove into the words of our Lord in John 14-16. We have already laughed together and cried. We’ve sung to our God and lifted our hearts in prayer. We’ve eaten a lot of food already at two different congregational meals with at least two more to come. My uncle told me I’d gain five pounds this week and I’m well on my way. I’ve watched this church family gather around a young woman who’d just received some devastating news and was feeling so.very.alone. I’ll watch them later today bring in dozens of children from the nearby middle school to mentor and to help with homework. I was blessed last night to sing with the young people around a fire and underneath some massive oaks trees. Today, I’ll eat lunch with my good friend, Chris Vidacovich, the preaching minister here. Tonight, I’m driving to Tyler to spend the night with Jason Reeves and his family. I’m having lunch with Uncle Gerald tomorrow. My closest family and some of my dearest friends live out here. And I’m meeting so many good, good, good people. In some ways this feels almost familiar.

But it’s different.

East Texas is not a foreign country. Yes, it’s different; very different. I flew out of the flat, brown plains of Amarillo Saturday morning, above the skyscrapers and highways of Big D, and landed a couple of hours later among the hills and lakes and towering pine trees of Gregg County. Very different. The dialect is different; the accents are more pronounced. The food tastes here lean a little more toward Louisiana and Arkansas than make me comfortable. The culture is different; even the church culture is different. I know it’s not a foreign country, but it can feel like one.

It’s so good to be reminded that people in Kilgore worship God exactly like the people in Amarillo. It’s comforting. Different types of songs, yes. Different orders, different styles, different practices, even a few different beliefs and, perhaps, different theological views. But they worship God in Kilgore just like we do in Amarillo. They praise the name of Jesus in Gregg County just like they do in Dallas and Sao Paulo, Brazil. They honor our Father here just like they do in Fort Worth and Kharkov, Ukraine. You know why?

Because Jesus is Lord.

So, it’s not just good. It’s not just comforting. It’s powerful. It’s empowering. It’s everything!

It means everything to be reminded that the Kingdom of God to which we all belong is so much bigger and better than my particular congregation or my specific city or my own country. We all belong to a Kingdom, to a holy and righteous and eternal movement, that transcends all of our individual styles and traditions, cultures and viewpoints. God’s name is praised in Kilgore and it’s praised in Beijing. Our Father is worshiped all over the world, because he alone is God. It’s big. It’s bigger than we usually think. What a blessing to belong!

Peace,

Allan

Brueggemann’s First Blush

September 20, 2012 / / 8 Comments

Walter Brueggemann looks and acts like a cartoon character. A tiny little man with white hair and eyeglasses that hang way too close to the end of his nose, this most respected of Old Testament scholars and expert on the ancient prophets, was in Abilene as a guest speaker at this week’s annual ACU Summit. The headliner, so to speak, wowed us with his deep insights and wisdom. He moved effortlessly from difficult text to even more difficult application. He seemed to whisper and shout at the same time, raising his eyebrows, cocking his head to one side, dragging the last words of key sentences for almost half a minute in a whiny, yet authoritative, rasp, and all the while wringing his oversized hands in an exaggerated fashion in front of his face. It would be very easy to imitate Brueggemann’s style. It’s hilarious. And fascinating.

But it would be impossible to duplicate his substance.

The old professor reminded us that our God has a high regard for his people but our God also has a high self-regard for God. Both. Brueggemann pointed out that our therapeutic culture mostly thinks God is only in it for us. He loves us, he forgives us, he restores us, he’s patient with us, he saves us because, afterall, that’s what God does. It’s his job. We would do good, however, to wake up. It would benefit us greatly to become like the child who wakes up one day to discover that her mom has a life of her own. Our God is a free agent. He chooses. He wills. He decides. And he changes his mind. His eternal holiness trumps everything else about him. Therefore, he is both a passionate and punishing God. Both.

I hope to write a little more about Summit, particularly Brueggeman’s brilliant insights, in the following couple of days. (Anybody who can drop cuss words from the pulpit in both ACU’s chapel on the hill and Moody Coliseum merits more than just a couple of paragraphs in this space. We were all shocked when Mark Hamilton prayed before Brueggemann’s afternoon keynote that God would “loosen his tongue.” Had Brother Hamilton not attended any of the earlier sessions?)

But, here’s what I really want to write about today. That was all just an introduction.

I have a tendency, personally, to think and talk about the Churches of Christ in apologetic terms. In my defense, most of the negative things I think and say about my faith heritage are in the past tense: we used to be this, we’re trying to get away from that, we’ve always thought this way, we’re changing the way we do that, etc., But, still, the truth is, when somebody brings up the Church of Christ in a conversation, my gut instinct is to apologize. We used to think we were the only ones going to heaven, but we’re moving away from that. We used to abstain from working with other Christian denominations, but we’re getting better. We’ve traditionally taught and practiced a works-based salvation, but our understanding is much better now. We used to ignore the Holy Spirit, but not anymore.

You know what I mean? Do you do that, too? There’s so much good going on in our particular branch of God’s Kingdom, we have so much to offer the Christian community and the world. And I know that. I talk about it all the time with our own people. I see so much good, I experience so much joy, I hear so many wonderful things. But, still, my default is to apologize first.

After his morning keynote at ACU, Brueggemann was asked by moderator Brady Bryce to share his first impressions of the Church of Christ. And it wasn’t a fair question. Up until the moment he arrived on campus Sunday, I’m not sure Brueggemann had ever seen a Church of Christ member in person. I wouldn’t bet he’d ever heard of the Church of Christ before Brady called him last year. It wasn’t right to ask this Episcopalian and UCC scholar to share his thoughts on our movement in front of all of us. He begged out, but Brady pushed.

And Brueggemann said he was very impressed with the immediacy and the urgency with which we approach Scripture. He said our interpretation of the Bible was simple and fresh. He said our teachings and approach to faith and life in Christ were not complicated. And, again, “fresh.”

Fresh? Did you ever think you would live to hear a world renowned scholar refer to anything related to the Churches of Christ as “fresh?”

Now, to be fair, Brueggemann had spent a couple of days by this time listening to our best speakers and worshiping with our best singers. I know he was paying attention because he referred to and quoted from several of the sermons we had heard since Sunday night. And he specifically cited the immediacy and urgency with which we approach Scripture as fresh.

This outsider who has a keen eye for what’s faithful and good, this alien scholar who thinks so well and only says what he really thinks — this esteemed man of God had a first impression of us. And it was good. It was very good.

When am I, a lifelong CofC insider, going to fully get over the past so I can wholeheartedly embrace the present and the future of our denomination? Our present is exciting and our future is promising. Brueggemann’s first blush reminded me that we are brimming with holy potential for the great cause of our Christ. We are important in the Kingdom of God. We do have a lot to offer. I knew this already, I’ve known it for a long time. But it’s good to hear it from an outsider, to be reminded by someone who’s not nearly as concerned about our past as I am.

As of today, thanks to Walter, I’m done apologizing. I’m through with qualifying the wonderful attributes of our movement with backward glances at our struggles. I’m not ever going to shrink back from my CofC heritage again. And I may even take up hand-wringing during my sermons.

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I started writing this blog when I began my first full-time congregational preaching with the Legacy Church of Christ in June 2007. Today’s post is #985. I’m thinking that post #1,000 will happen before the end of October. And on that day, I’d like to celebrate by giving away brand new copies of some of the books that have radically shaped my thinking, my preaching, and my writing. Now, this is not going to be like Oprah — I’m not giving away any cars or houses — but I do want to distribute some excellent books.

Everyone who posts a comment on my blog between now and that 1,000th writing will automatically be entered in a drawing for the books. You can only be entered once per post during that time. You can only be entered a maximum of 14 times. You’ll only get credit for one entry per post regardless of how many comments you write per post. But it does start today. I’ll reveal the titles of the books tomorrow. The judge’s decisions (mine) are final. Good luck.

Peace,

Allan

THE Faith

September 4, 2012 / / 1 Comment

As the father of three teenage daughters (OK, technically Carley turns 13 next week), I have a lot to fear. I fear the boys. I fear the proms and the weddings. I fear the drama. I fear the things I don’t understand and can never relate to. And, did I mention, I fear the boys. But I also have another fear. I fear that one day one of my daughters may tell me she’s not interested in my religion.

My religion.

I’m human. Oh, my word, yes, I’m human. And as a father, my potential for failure is great. In my efforts to protect them and shape them and provide for them everything they’re going to need to fully function in this world and, at the same time, deny them the things they want that would ambush that process, I’m scared to death of being too strict. And in my sincere struggles to be open and accessible and relational, I’m scared to death I won’t have the courage or integrity to give them the proper structure and rigid discipline they need. My fear is that some day one or more of my daughters, damaged maybe by my failures as a dad, might see some connection between those failures and my religion. It would be easy to do. I’m afraid they could use that as an excuse to leave the Church. I’m not crazy, right? You’ve thought similar things before, yes?

So, I’m determined to teach my girls that my religion is not my religion; my faith is not my faith. It’s much, much bigger than that. I received it from my parents who, in turn, received it from their parents. The Christian faith in our family is deep and old. It belongs to me because I inherited it from them and didn’t throw it away. I’ve held it in trust for my kids. I’m passing it on.

I tell my daughters that rejecting the faith is not simply a matter of throwing away the tastes of their parents; it’s not just chunking my idiosyncrasies or abandoning my methods of control. Christianity is a long held belief about the nature of true reality. Our faith is a way of looking at life and living in this world. It’s been attested to by millions of very different people over many different centuries in a great variety of many different circumstances in countless different ways. It’s not just mine. The faith is universal and eternal. It’s everything.

Yes, my kids will be free to accept or reject the faith. But I’m doing everything I can to make sure they understand that what they choose to accept or reject is not simply their parents’ religion. It’s an old, old faith. One faith. Just one. The significance of the differences among the Christian denominations is made totally insignificant by the great march of time. This one great thing to be accepted or rejected is not my religion, not my family’s religion, not the U.S.A.’s religion. It is the Christian faith. It’s been passed down for over two thousand years. Each denomination has passed it down and transmitted what all Christians everywhere for all time have confessed. It’s one eternal faith.

Any faith that is Christian certainly has the proper pedigree. If it claims Jesus as the Son of God and the only way to the Father; if it claims salvation through the death, burial and resurrection of the Christ incarnate; if it claims Jesus as the exclusive Savior of the World, it goes directly back to the original apostles who saw and heard everything and to whom it was all revealed by the Holy Spirit.

We can’t say the words “my faith” apart from owning a faith that came from others. We all know that. But I’m not sure we teach it enough. This is not a private thing, or even a familial thing. It’s much more than family or denomination or nation or century or era. It is mere Christianity. It’s ancient and universal. And it’s weightier and more worthy than all the faulty expressions we’ve experienced in our churches or in our parents.

Now, I’m still scared. And I’m still very, very aware of my great potential for failure as a dad. But my kids are all going to know that Christianity is not my faith, nor my religion. It belongs to eternity.

Peace,

Allan

Utterly Disproportionate to Who I Am

July 2, 2012 / / 0 Comments

David Platt, the author of Radical and Radical Together and all the workbooks, study guides, and DVDs that go with it, is like most of us preachers and pastors. He, like us, is completely and totally unqualified for the task that’s been given him by our God. He’s overwhelmed  by the enormity of the challenge, disoriented by the eternal nature of his job, intimidated by the stakes. Yeah, me too! Sometimes it’s just too much!

Like us, Platt finds great comfort and strength in prayer. Like us, he knows that he’s in over his head with this pastoring thing. So, like us, he acknowledges this before God. And I really, really like his prayer:

“Lord, let me make a difference for you that is utterly disproportionate to who I am.”

In my more serious moments of reflection, I see very clearly how ill-suited for this job I really am. I’m still terrified to speak a word from God to our people. To dare to vocalize his eternal truths scares me. I’m truly intimidated by it. Walking into hospital rooms where people are hanging between life and death — they and their loved ones are paralyzed by fear, overcome with the uncertainty — and pretending to be able to comfort or encourage is crazy. I’m not capeable. I’m definitely going to mess that up every time. Telling people what God wants for thier lives when my own life can be horribly out of whack; attempting to teach people who’ve been studying and teaching the Word of God much longer than me; planning and promoting events that are supposed to inspire faith and good works; writing and delivering sermons that are supposed to compel; and, all the while, rationalizing and justifying the inconsistencies in my own life that betray my inadequacies for this position.

“Lord, let me make a difference for you that is utterly disproportionate to who I am.”

I do know that our gracious God specializes in the weak. He’s an expert in dealing with the unqualified. He chooses the last one you’d expect and then works to do the totally unexpected. It’s truly mind-blowing.

If it’s up to me, my congregation dies. My sermons are boring. The sick people I visit are discouraged. Nobody is saved. And I am a terrible waste of everybody’s time. If it’s up to me and my own strengths and talents and gifts and abilities, we’re all in trouble. I can’t do this. I know it. And everybody who’s ever met me knows it.

The Spirit of God must give me every word, he must provide every ounce of strength, he must come up with every nugget of wisdom and drop of inspiration if this is going to work. He must guide my every move. He has to steer me through every hour. He has to show up every single time. I know it. And the One who created me knows it.

“Lord, let me make a difference for you that is utterly disproportionate to who I am.”

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I’ve generally been pretty luke warm about Bud Selig’s crazy rule that gives home field advantage in the World Series to the league that wins the All-Star Game. I’ve always been negative about it — come on, what commissioner in his right mind awards a competitive advantage in his championship event based on the outcome of an exhibition game played three months earlier?!? — but it never affected me personally because my Rangers were never even close to being impacted. It has never made sense for random players on tricked-up rosters to determine home field advantage in the World Series. Players on teams that had already been eliminated from contention and had no stake in the outcome were determining home field for the World Series. Yes, it’s that crazy. But we never talked it too much because it never hurt the Rangers. Or particularly helped them. The American League won the Mid-Summer Classic thirteen straight years and I always joked, “Good, now the Rangers will have home field if they win the pennant.” Ha-ha.

When the NL broke the streak in 2010, I didn’t pay any attention. When the Rangers beat the Yankees three months later to qualify for the first World Series in club history, suddenly it mattered. During last year’s All-Star game, I paid close attention. When the Senior Circuit won it 5-1, I cringed. It’s not fair. When the St. Louis Cardinals received home field advantage in the World Series — a wild card that didn’t even win its own division over the division-winning Rangers who had six more regular season wins than the Cards— I was livid. And, yeah, it mattered. Game Six at Busch mattered. Harrison starting Game Seven in St. Louis instead of the Ballpark in Arlington mattered. The truth is that in the past nine straight Game Sevens in the World Series, the home team has won all nine times. Look it up. It matters a great deal.

The good news is that Texas is sending a club record seven players to the All-Star game in KC next week, quite possibly eight if Yu Darvish wins the fan voting. Ron Washington will manage with his staff beside him on the bench. Matt Harrison, Major League Baseball pitcher of the month for June, should be the starter and Mike Napoli will be the other half of the battery. Josh Hamilton will play center and Adrian Beltre will be stationed at the hot corner. Elvis and Kinsler will play and Joe Nathan will be called upon to close it out. They can do something about this. They can determine their own destiny.

The American League has scored a grand total of two runs in their past two All-Star Game losses. That can’t happen next Tuesday.

This current Rangers team racked up 50 wins before July. They’re not just winning games, they’re blowing people out. And if Holland and Feliz and Colby and Ogando get healthy, the Rangers are the World Series favorites again.

I’d have to do a lot more research on this — maybe somebody can help me — but this may be the first time since Selig’s rule, with the manager and coaching staff and eight players from a true contender, that the World Series participants actually determine in the All-Star game where they themselves play in October.

Peace,

Allan

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