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Category: Allan’s Journey (Page 20 of 31)

First Sunday

August 17, 2011 / / 2 Comments

It got weird for me during communion on Sunday. And it happened so fast that I’m still not really sure what it was.

Our first Sunday here at Central as the new preaching minister was a swirling blur of brand new people and faces and names, exciting experiences and Spirit-filled worship, and undeniable proof that we have made the right decision in joining this group of believers up here in the panhandle. It began before Bible class as Carrie-Anne and the girls and I jumped in to help serve breakfast to more than a hundred of the needy and poor of this downtown community at Central’s Upreach Center. And it ended with an area-wide worship assembly at the Southwest Church of Christ where the singing was inspirational and the fellowship divine. In between, there were two meals shared with two different groups of new friends, roughly three hundred handshakes and hugs, and a thrilling chance to address our new congregation and thank them for their warm hospitality and friendly welcome.

But something happened during communion.

As we were sharing the bread and the cup with our new church, my thoughts went straight to our former church. If I were communing at Legacy, I would have felt John’s hand on my shoulder from the pew behind me. I would have heard Tom’s whispered “Thank you, Jesus” from my left. I would have made a funny face at Shannon and Audrey to my right. And I would have smiled as I watched Tommy and Drew and Valerie and Sebrina pass the trays in front of me.

This Sunday, it was all new. It was Craig sitting behind me. I had hugged him before church began and I could hear him singing. It was Steve and Judy sitting next to us, exchanging smiles. “The body of Christ broken for you.” “The blood of Christ given for you.” I found myself making faces at little Elise two rows up.

I stared up at the massive wooden beams that rise from the tops of the walls to the center of the stained glass dome of our worship center. It’s beautiful. It’s stunning. People who have been here a long time jokingly refer to it as “the vortex.” Some say it makes the outside of the building  look like a sombrero. But I love it. It speaks to the transcendence of our great God. It expresses our desires to reach him, to offer ourselves to him, to be near him. I think it also conveys our hopes for unity: every person in every corner of the room, brought to the Father and united to one another in and by and through the One True and Living Way.

Looking around at all of this, taking it all in, soaking it all up, my eyes welled with tears.

How great is our God?!? How amazing is this heavenly Father who somehow has deemed me worthy? Despite my inadequacies and shortcomings and failures — my sins! — he thinks I am valuable enough to make me his partner in this new work in this new church. (This new church that’s been in this same spot in downtown Amarillo for over a hundred years!) Our God is doing a new thing here, an exciting thing, a Kingdom thing. And he’s got me right here in the middle of it. I can’t believe it. It’s truly incredible! All these new people. All these new works. New opportunities for service. New avenues for God’s mercy and grace. New places to find God’s forgiveness and salvation. New ways to share his spectacular gifts of eternal life. And he’s got me in some kind of a leadership role here!

I don’t deserve it. I can’t fathom all these blessings. I can’t begin to comprehend all the good that’s coming my way. I don’t know why God thinks he can use me to fulfill his eternal purposes here. It makes no earthly sense.But he does. He really does.

And I just became overwhelmed.

He has forgiven me. He has lavished his great love on me and called me his child. His son. That is what I am!

Carrie-Anne looked at me and asked, “Are you OK?”

Through my tears I said, “No, I don’t think I am.”

And she said, “Do you want a mint from Coleman?”

Carrie-Anne reached into her purse and pulled out a familiar individually-wrapped peppermint from the Legacy candy man. Coleman Archer has been the candy man at Legacy for decades. Mints and Peppermint Patties and Krackel. Sometimes he would throw them at me across the concourse. Usually he would hand them to me along with a kind and encouraging word.

I popped the mint in my mouth and my thoughts raced back to our old church.

I was blessed there, too. More than I could ever possibly ask or imagine. Much more than I could ever hope to deserve. I didn’t know what I was getting into there when I first started at Legacy. But it was good. It was very good.

Of the hundreds of people I met after church here at Central Sunday on this first Sunday, one of the firsts was Pattie Archer. Coleman’s daughter-in-law. She and her husband Kelly, Coleman’s son, have been here at Central for a long time. Pattie didn’t give me any candy. But she gave me a smile and a hug and told me how glad she was that we were here.

Yeah. Me, too.

Peace,

Allan

#1622

August 13, 2011 / / 0 Comments

The movers have left. The doors are finally closed and the A/C  is now cycling some air that’s slightly less than 90-degrees. And we are home. Oh, I’m sorry. I mean we’re in the apartment. The girls keep telling me this is not home. This is temporary. This is only a place to sleep and eat and do homework until our house in North Richland Hills sells and we can purchase a more permanent dwelling here in Amarillo.

OK. They are right to some degree. But at the same time, I’m trying to communicate to them that this, too, is a wonderful part of our journey together as a family, seeking God, and trying to follow him as best we can. Even this apartment, #1622, is a holy place. God is present with his people in this apartment. He’s active and working and revealing himself to us in #1622. Just today we have been warmly welcomed by Scott and Kim and their two kids. Olen and Terry delivered two cases of ice cold bottled water. Janelle brought by a massive welcome basket full of things we desperately needed but hadn’t thought of ahead of time. Steve and Bob met us with hugs and smiles in the church parking lot as the movers dropped my boxes off in my new study. John Todd and Kami brought dinner. And a microwave oven. The mint iced-tea I’m drinking now is courtesy of their kindness. Tanner and Barrett and Bailey dropped by to say ‘hi’ and take our three girls to play Putt Putt and drive go-carts.

We spent all day with three movers we’ve never met before. And now I know about their kids and their famililes, where they’re from, and some of the things that have shaped their views. They’ve been invited to worship with us at Central tomorrow. So has the president of the moving company who stopped by to meet the new preacher at “that downtown church.” I won’t be surprised if I see one of them in the morning.

We have already prayed together in this living room at #1622. We gathered up in a tight and sorta sweaty circle and praised God for the blessings of his love and provision that are manifest as brothers and sisters take care of one another. We locked hands and put our arms around people we’ve known for a month now and others we had just met. And we asked our Father to bless our apartment. We prayed that every encounter — between family members, church members, people in the community — that takes place in our apartment would bring him glory and honor.

We might be in this upstairs apartment for six weeks or six months. Maybe longer. We don’t know. My prayer is that God will use our time here to teach us, to shape us, to prepare us for what lies ahead in Amarillo. And that he’ll do something with us and through us here that we haven’t even yet imagined. And that we’ll be better disciples because of the time spent in #1622.

Peace,

Allan

Moving Day

August 12, 2011 / / 6 Comments

Most of you know I like to post here at least three or four times a week. But it’s just been impossible lately. Impossible. This brief post will serve as a quick update on our situation and plans. And my intent is to begin a regular blogging schedule again this coming Monday. From the Central Church of Christ in Amarillo, Texas!

Today is moving day. Everything we own is boxed up and labeled either “apartment” or “storage.” The movers will be here later this morning and then we’ll follow them up to Amarillo this afternoon, sleep in one of the six thousand hotels on I-40, and then meet them at our apartment on Bell Street tomorrow morning to begin the unpacking. I can’t wait to speak to our brothers and sisters at Central Sunday morning and tell them “thank you” and how excited we are to begin. (I just hope I can locate something other than a pair of shorts and a T-shirt by then.) And then a staff meeting Monday and we’re off and running.

In the meantime, please pray for us as we begin this next phase of our Christian ministry. May God use us in powerful ways to advance his Gospel. Pray for our girls. May our Father bless them with great new friends and experiences. Pray for Central. May our Lord’s righteous and holy will be done there just as it is in heaven. And please pray for Legacy. May our gracious God bless the members with encouragement. And may he bless the Legacy shepherds with peace.

Next stop: Amarillo!

Peace,

Allan

Jumping In At Central

August 5, 2011 / / 2 Comments

Have I mentioned that I don’t know anybody in Amarillo? We don’t have any family up there. We don’t know anything about the panhandle. Or the high plains. Or West Texas. Dallas – Fort Worth is my home. This is what I know. This is where our family is. Our roots are here in the Metroplex. North Texas. DFW. I know the landmarks of DFW. I know the history. The people. The culture. I know how Belt Line meanders through every part of Dallas County and each place where Boulevard 26 changes names. I’ve been watching Gloria Campos and Dale Hansen since I was a small child. Randy Galloway has been on my radio since I was a teenager. I can name all the churches here and tell you at which ones I attended a Summer Youth Series in the ’80s. I know 7-11 and Reunion Tower and Dallas competitiveness and Fort Worth pride. I know R. L. Thornton and LBJ and what it means to be driving south on the North Freeway. I’m familiar with Frisco and Forney and Aledo and Granbury. And I don’t get lost on Harry Hines.

But I don’t know a crying thing about Amarillo.

We’ve made a few trips up there over the past two months since agreeing to move our preaching ministry to the Central Church of Christ. We’ve fallen in love with Blue Sky and have already eaten there a half dozen times. And bought the T-shirts. I know those things at the intersection of 1-40 and Soncy Road are prarie dogs, not ground hogs. I don’t giggle anymore when I pull into the Toot N Totem for a Diet Dr Pepper. I’m growing a real interest in the storied history of Amarillo High School where our kids are going to be Sandies. And, yes, we’ve got those T-shirts too. We’ve taken in the TEXAS musical at the Palo Duro Canyon and are beginning to get comfortable with basements. We’ve already put our mark on Cadillac Ranch, spray painting the empty tomb symbol at the top of one of the middle cars.

It’s not home for us, of course. Not yet. It’s going to take a while. But something happened yesterday that got us a whole lot closer in a super short amount of time.

Loaves and Fishes. Central’s outreach to the poor and homeless in the downtown Amarillo community. Every Thursday. Inside the Central building, Kevin leads more than 150 of these souls in praise and worship to our God. Mary and Hannah make announcements and describe how much food and clothing are going to be distributed. Mark reads from God’s Word and encourages and exhorts, preaches and teaches the Gospel to people who are hungering and thirsting for righteousness. And for bread and water. And they pray.

Carrie-Anne and Carley and I jumped into the middle of our first Loaves and Fishes yesterday. We sang I Surrender All with a whole bunch of people who don’t have nearly as much to surrender as I do. We clapped and grinned through Lord, I Lift Your Name on High and several other songs. And then Mark brought Christy to the front of the room.

Christy has been coming to Loaves and Fishes for quite a while now. She’s never made it to a worship assembly in the main worship center on a Sunday morning, but I’ll bet half of Central knows her. Christy never misses a Thursday. She’s always there. But, yesterday was different.

Christy was grieving. Her heart was broken. Just 24 hours earlier, on Wednesday morning, Christy had found her 19-year-old son, Caleb, dead of an overdose in his bed in their house. He was her only son. And he was dead. Caleb’s body was in Lubbock awaiting an autopsey. And Christy was in God’s house with God’s people seeking comfort and peace.

We rushed to hug Christy. We put our hands on her and prayed with her and for her. We cried with her. And not a one of us knew what to say. “God bless you.” That’s all we kept saying, “God bless you.”

A few minutes later, once the food distribution began, I grabbed Mark’s Bible and made my way to Christy. Hannah was already there. Listening to Christy. Holding her. Showing her the mercy and grace of our Lord. I opened up the Scriptures to Mark six where the Gospel tells us that while the apostles were rowing against the wind in the middle of a stormy sea, while the wind was blowing them off course, while they were “straining at the oars,” our Christ was watching them from the mountain. He was watching and praying. I showed her the passages in Isaiah 46 where our God promises to carry his children, to sustain them, to rescue them. And then I prayed with Christy.

I met a lot of people at Loaves and Fishes yesterday. I watched God work through my brothers and sisters at Central to minister to “the least of these.” I watched our Lord’s Spirit move through his Church to console and encourage, to provide and protect, to heal.

I saw our God in action. In Amarillo. At Central. He is rescuing the captives and retrieving the plunder. He is saving people. He is impacting and eternally changing lives. He is restoring and redeeming, re-creating. In Amarillo. At Central.

Amarillo is in Texas. It has a Rosa’s. The stores carry Diet Dr Pepper. There’s a Cheddar’s that serves my favorite Buffalo Chicken Strips. They play high school football on Friday night and go to church on Sunday. The people drive pickup trucks and SUVs and say “y’all.” They’re over-the-top warm and friendly. Fiercely loyal. That’s comforting. That’s comfortable. That feels like home.

But the thing that speaks to me, the thing that gives me confidence in this move, the thing that makes me feel right about this, is knowing that God is already at work in Amarillo and has been for a long, long time. It’s God. It’s him. Our God is moving at Central. All I’m doing is just jumping in.

Peace,

Allan

Gratitude For The Day

August 3, 2011 / / 4 Comments

Things are busy. Good gravy, things are busy. We’re flying in and out of Amarillo every week. Looking for and not finding our house up here. Worried about not selling our house in NRH. Registering the kids in their new schools. Packing. Planning. Phone calls. Meetings. Losing things. Oh, my word, our grass is going to die! Cell phones are not allowed at Amarillo High School?!?! Hooray!!! Which mission trip are the girls on this week? What time was I supposed to pick up Carley? Why won’t anybody buy our house?

It’s super easy to lose track of the day. To miss the blessings. In the midst of my busy-ness, it’s easy to be oblivious to the constant and eternal grace of our Father.

G. K. Chesterton’s little poem of gratitude is keeping me grounded at the end of every one of these busy days:

Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?

Be thankful for the day. And keep reminding me, too.

Peace,

Allan

The Gifts of Preaching

August 1, 2011 / / 2 Comments

I’m cleaning out my study at Legacy today. Boxing up books. Packing the commentaries and knick knacks. Pulling the pictures down from the walls and throwing away a bunch of stuff, too. It’s taking me longer —  a whole lot longer — than it should to pack up and clean out a 17′ x 11′ room. That’s because I keep coming across the gifts.

The framed autographed photo of Steve Martin taken from a scene in “The Jerk.” Todd D gave it to me a couple of weeks after I had referenced the scene in a sermon on the distractions of material possessions. Plus an original promotional booklet for the movie “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World,” also presented to me a couple of weeks after I compared Ethel Merman’s character to Peninnah in 1 Samuel. Todd D is also the same guy who snail mails me an envelope full of random cartoons every couple of months. I’ve found several of them today. My favorite is the old lady behind the counter at a sidewalk kiosk proclaiming to passers-by, “…and I’m wearing a thong!” The caption says, “The Too-Much-Information Booth.”

A tiny little three-eyed alien from Toy Story sits on top of my tape dispenser, a gift from our Children’s Minister, Jennifer. She had used the little guys in a staff devo one morning to remind us that just as the toys are chosen by The Claw, we are chosen. We are chosen by God. We belong to him. We are his.

A roll of Life Savers with a note attached: Preacher Timer – Upon reaching pulpit, place one unit in mouth; when Life Saver disappears, so should the preacher! Howard C gave that to me a couple of years ago.

A bar of goat milk cheese given to me by Salvador Cariaga, our missionary to the Philippines. The Christians there are becoming economically self-sufficient by the grace of God as he works in and through all those goats. I joked from the pulpit one Sunday while Salvador was in town that I was glad our elders didn’t pay me with a goat. The next morning, I was greeted in my office by a live goat, courtesy of Jack’s Sunday morning Bible class!

There’s a big white posterboard on the door to my study that declares me “the best preacher ever.” It was made and colored and scotch taped there by Camryn and Brighton, two of the sweetest little girls at Legacy. It fell a couple of weeks ago. I taped it back up.

Here’s an electrical outlet spray painted gold hanging from a string of electrical wire and couplers. Keith R gave this to me after installing five ceiling fans in my house and discovering up close how un-handy I am with and around electricity.

The wooden carving of the old pioneer preacher was given to me by Steve P. Dana J gave me the beautiful crown of thorns that I used during our four week sermon series leading up to this past Easter. Joe A gave me a framed copy of our first family picture for the Legacy pictorial directory. Dawson B gave me the little miniature Homer from his Simpsons happy meal. Wayne S took and framed a picture of Whitney and Carley and me standing in a long line in the Academy parking lot at midnight to buy T-shirts celebrating the Rangers’ American League Championship victory over the hated Yankees. Paul Dennis just gave me this copy of Yancey’s Soul Survivor: How My Faith Survived the Church, figuring it might be good reading right about now. And the picture of Quincy and me at his naturalization ceremony sits to my left among photos of my kids.

Gifts. My office is filled with gifts. Every wall, every shelf, every corner contains a gift from somebody here at Legacy. And it takes me longer to pack this stuff because each gift is connected to a person. A story. A relationship.

Those are the real gifts.

It’s not the wood carving; it’s praying with Steve and Pat in their home while he endured multiple foot surgeries and amputations and prosthetics and rehab related to his diabetes, crying with Steve as he recounted the kindness shown to him by his brothers and sisters at Legacy who remodeled most of his home to accomodate his wheelchair.

It’s not the poster; it’s Camryn’s deep friendship with my youngest daughter and Brighton’s really loud comment to a crowd the Saturday night before my last sermon here: “Preach for two hours, Allan, and if anybody has a problem with it, they can come see me!” It’s my love for both of their families who have encouraged me and supported me and loved me unconditionally for every moment of my ministry here.

It’s not the bar of soap; it’s getting to know Salvador’s son and encouraging him in his studies and his Christian ministry; it’s being there for the funeral of Salvador’s father-in-law; it’s praying with him for the poor people in the Philippines and then being inspired by his life of selfless service.

It’s not the little green alien; it’s remembering that Jennifer always tells me — usually right before or after prayer together, sometimes through tears — church work and ministry is not supposed to be easy. If it were easy, it wouldn’t take faith.

It’s not the book; it’s being there at his house within an hour of Paul finding out his son had been killed in a car accident; it’s the huge bear hugs and his tears and his sensitive heart. And his great pain. His unspeakable pain.

It’s not the Homer toy; it’s knowing that I’ll be there to tell him how proud I am of him when Dawson puts on our Lord in baptism this next Sunday.

It’s not the pictures and candies and crowns and cartoons and books. It’s the lives. Those are the gifts that are handed to preachers every day. The gifts of people’s lives. They open them up to us. They give themselves to us. They pour themselves out in front of us. Every day they share themselves with us. They say things to us they would never say to anyone else. They confess sin to us. They dare to dream really big dreams with us. They make promises. They express concerns. They cry. They pray. In front of us. For us. They are vulnerable with us. They give and give and give to us. Nobody else gets gifts like these. And we get them every day!

What a blessing. What a burden. What a beautiful and amazing thing it is to receive these kinds of wonderful gifts.

That’s why it’s taking so long to pack up my study.

Peace,

Allan

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