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Category: Allan’s Journey (Page 21 of 29)

This Is Not God’s Way

December 15, 2010 / / 5 Comments

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

Preacher to Preacher

November 22, 2010 / / 0 Comments

In Friday’s post I mentioned a few rules-to-live-by for preachers that our mentoring group down in Waco had discussed last week. Jim Martin presented these regular practices to us as paramount to his preaching ministry. And he had asked us to bring a few of our own.

These are the three that I brought:

Pray with everybody – nobody comes to see me in my study without spending some of that time in prayer. If you’re coming to my office to complain or confess or to ask questions or to share something personal or to ask for advice, I believe my number one job is to give spiritual guidance. I must speak to you out of my knowledge of the Scriptures, out of my relationship with God, and out of the love I have for you as a brother or sister in Christ. And that conversation must be bathed in prayer. The same is true if I come visit you. I will not leave your home or your office or your hospital room without praying to God with you.

Together prayer. Intercessory prayer. Community prayer. It sets the tone, it prepares our hearts and minds, it centers us on what’s really important as we talk about whatever needs to be talked about. I believe prayer very clearly communicates to my conversation partners my priorities in giving counsel from a spiritual perspective, not a worldly one. It also communicates that I, myself, understand I’m not qualified to be giving any counsel at all. Whatever wisdom I have comes directly from our gracious Father.

Be transparent – some of our shepherds at Legacy say one of the reasons they brought me to this church is because I’m so open with everybody. When I hear that, I’m quick to say — mostly joking — that the openness will also be the reason they fire me.

I don’t hide anything from anybody. I’m honest with my feelings, with my sins, with my dreams, with my frustrations, with my love for God and for this church, and with my opinions. By the grace of God, as Paul says, I am what I am. I’m a work in progress. I’m trying really hard. I’m inadequate in many ways. But I’ve got Holy Spirit power inside me. I’m not afraid of that.

If we’re really going to live in Christian community with one another, if we’re really going to love each other like brothers and sisters, if we’re really going to accept and trust and defend and respect one another, if we’re really going to confess and share and be open with one another — and I preach all those things — then I must be the one to model it. And I do. You never have to wonder where I stand or what I think. I’m out there. Vulnerable. Open. Honest. It does rub some people the wrong way, I know. Not because they don’t like it, I think, but because they’re not used to it.

Acknowledge wins for the elders – I’ll never forget listening to Eddie Sharp talk about preachers and elders several years ago at an Austin Grad Sermon Seminar. (I think I know why elders and preachers have historically butted heads. I understand what causes it. It’s wrong. There’s nothing right about it. But I get it.) Eddie made it crystal clear to me in an afternoon session in May 2006 that, of all the people in our congregations, elders have the job description that most closely matches that of the preachers. Elders have the same frustrations, the same feelings, the same dreams, the same struggles, the same gifts, the same doubts, the same everything.

But here’s the line that nailed me, the line I’ll never forget: “You preachers are always looking for affirmation and respect from your elders; you have no idea that your elders are all looking for affirmation and respect from you.”

Really? Sometimes I can’t hardly believe that. But what if it’s true?

I always try to compliment our shepherds, to congratulate them on jobs well done, to point out to the church when they do something special. When I recognize compassion in an elder, I point it out to him and thank him. When I see generosity or kindness in one of my shepherds, I acknowledge it and tell him how wonderful it is. See, in church ministry, it’s really difficult to judge wins and losses. It’s not like looking at numbers or balancing ledgers or meeting goals. How do you know if you’re becoming more like Christ? How can you tell if your congregation is growing spiritually? They need to be congratulated for the “wins” that you see. I tell them that I love them. I tell them I appreciate their hard work and their dedication to our flock. And I tell them I support them and that I have their back. If you’re a preacher, I think your elders need that from you.

Preaching for a local congregation is a difficult job. I still don’t feel very good at it. I’m certain I’ll never stop learning how to do it better. I often tell people it’s the hardest work I’ve ever done, but absolutely the most rewarding. Those rewards and blessings come from our God who calls us and equips us for the task. It all comes from him. And it’s done in order to bring him eternal glory and praise.

Peace,

Allan

I Think God's Messing With Me

October 11, 2010 / / 1 Comment

I think God’s messing with me.

A few months ago I was asked by Chance Vanover at Oklahoma Christian University to speak at OC’s chapel. Anybody who had any connection to that school back in the mid to late ’80s understands full well how improbable that is. Me? Speaking at OC’s chapel? If you had told me 20 years ago that I would be standing on stage at Hardeman Auditorium this morning preaching the Word of God, I would have said the Rangers have a better chance of winning the World Series. The men of Delta would have a better shot of winning a social service award (inside joke). But our God is the God who breathes life into the dead and calls things that are not as though they are. So, of course, I agreed.

A few weeks later, Chance sent me the text. 2 Corinthians 3:18. “And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”

Chance wanted me to talk about a changed life, a new life in Christ.

Probably just a coincidence.

Part of me wanted to just read the passage to the students and then declare, “Exhibit A!” and point to myself and then sit down. That would probably greatly please the faculty and staff. But their collective sigh of relief would collapse some walls and endanger the lives of hundreds of tuition-paying students. So, I preached.

While I preached this morning, my sister, Rhonda, who lives in Edmond with her husband, Geoff, and their three kids, was standing in the back. She updated her Facebook status while I spoke. “Listening to my brother, Allan, speaking at OC’s chapel.” Almost immediately, a common friend of ours replied, “Does OC security know?”

The moment I finished, Dr. Larry Jurney made a bee-line to the front. Dr. Jurney was our Radio-TV department head at OC. I hadn’t seen him in a dozen years. He greeted me and then, in front of eight or nine others, said, “Here’s what I remember about Allan Stanglin! Allan Stanglin is the reason I had to serve on the school’s disciplinary board! They put me on the board when Allan got in trouble. And after we dealt with him, I asked to be removed. But Dean Mock said as long as Allan was at OCC, they needed me on the board!”

Nice.

I was so pleased to see Jamie and Charley Jo, two of our Legacy kids, at OC today. I’m hoping we can have lunch together tomorrow and catch up. I was glad to see Dr. Jurney and so many others who had a great influence on me so many years ago. I think about Stafford North. Philip Patterson. Tod Brown. Bailey McBride. Even Dean Mock. They loved me. They pushed me. They disciplined me. And they did their dead-level best to keep me on the right track. They gave me every chance. They extended to me every grace. They gave me much more than I ever deserved.

And I didn’t see it at the time. I didn’t recognize it then. I wouldn’t have even admitted it ten years ago. But I see very clearly now how true are the things they told me. How wise is the counsel they gave me. How loving was the rod they applied and the mercy they showed.

I’m thankful for the nearly two days and a night I get to spend with Rhonda. We ate Mexican food at Ted’s today, we picked up the kids from basketball practice, and we’re getting ready for a youth group devo at their house tonight. Maryn played and sang for me a beautiful song she wrote a year ago. She’s a genius. I’m listening to Asa right now playfully argue with his guitar instructor in the living room. He’s hilarious. And Caleb’s hitting the books. Homework and hoops: that’s his whole life. Geoff will be home from work in a few minutes. The Cowboys play his Vikings this weekend. He’ll rag Dallas. I’ll rag Favre.

I’m giving one more message at OC chapel in the morning about what it means to live a new life in Christ and to be transformed by his Spirit. Coincidence, right? At the very least, it’s incredibly ironic.

I think God’s messing with me.

Peace,

Allan

How Would Jesus Do My Job?

September 8, 2010 / / 4 Comments

If Jesus were the preacher at Legacy…This is the question Jim Martin hit us with yesterday during our afternoon session of the Waco Alliance. If Jesus were the preacher at Legacy, how would he go about his day? What would his week look like? What would he do that you do? What would he never do that you find yourself doing every day?

Weird question.

Weird, because I can’t imagine Jesus as a preacher at a church. Not a church in the way we do church today.

I look at Jesus in the Gospels and, yes, I definitely see a preacher. “Repent!” he preaches. “The Kingdom of God is near!” Oh, yeah, Jesus was certainly a preacher. And he ministered to people. All kinds of people. He taught Nicodemus. He consoled Mary and Martha. He healed the crippled and blind. He encouraged the outcast. He ate with the sinner. Jesus was a pastor/shepherd. On the road. In the desert. At the lake. In people’s homes. In the temple. At the market place. Jews and Gentiles. Sinners and saints. He preached and ministered. He did all the things I long to do. He is all the things I long to be.

But how would he be the preacher at Legacy?

The preacher at Legacy has an office. Four walls. Book shelves with lots of books. A desk. The preacher at Legacy is expected to be in this place, this preacher space, every day. An office. With a phone. And a computer. A lamp. Paper clips and staples and a printer. Emails and messages and blogs. Writing sermons. Practicing sermons. Re-writing sermons. Pens and paper. Budgets and meetings and meetings about budgets. Lunch at the drive-thru and then back in my space.

I imagine Jesus would not keep regular office hours. He might not have an office at all.

And I sometimes find myself living in this office. Living here.

How would Jesus do my job?

I wrote three more paragraphs here and then, after re-reading them a couple of times, deleted them. I’ve got some soul-searching to do. I’ve got some serious questions to answer. I have to be a disciple of Christ first and a church “preacher” second. The lines are blurred more often than not. I’ve got to figure out if that’s good or bad.

Peace,

 Allan

Can Anything Good Come Out of Pleasant Grove?

August 30, 2010 / / 32 Comments

Pleasant Grove

It was never really cool to be from P-Grove.

Until now.

As a kid growing up in Pleasant Grove, a once proud community in the southeast corner of Dallas — I’ve always assumed it was proud at one time, long before I was on the scene —I always knew we weren’t as well off as most everybody else in Dallas. I don’t think I ever lacked for a thing. But it was obvious, especially since my siblings and I went to private Dallas Christian about 15-minutes north, that the cool people lived somewhere else.

I distinctly remember a school-sponsored overnight trip to Camp Deer Run when we were kids. It was pouring down rain and blowing really hard and lightning and thundering and our teachers and counselors gathered us in the dining hall. They told us that a tornado had been reported in Dallas but “it’s OK, there’s no need to worry, the tornado was reported in Pleasant Grove.” Welcome to PGrove

Pleasant Grove has been the butt of the Dallas jokes for at least 35-40 years now, maybe longer. People who live in P-Grove are called Grove Rats. It seems that 90-percent of the shootings reported on the evening news occur in Pleasant Grove. When I’ve driven my kids through the Grove to see my boyhood home, they’ve always reacted with horror. Carrie-Anne clicks the car doors locked as soon as we take the Scyene Road exit.

Can anything good come out of Pleasant Grove?

The Bruton IV theater just west of Bruton Road and Prarie Creek is where I experienced Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and Raiders of the Lost Ark. The Pleasant Grove branch of the Dallas public library, on South Buckner Boulevard, is where I checked out all of Beverly Cleary’s books about Henry Huggins and Ralph, the motorcycle-riding mouse. The Pleasant Oaks recreation center, just about two miles down Jennie Lee Lane, is where we played ping-pong and basketball. That’s where dad pushed us so fast around the merry-go-round we thought we would either die laughing or choking on puke. It’s where I played three sets of tennis in that record 113-degree heat of a summer day in 1980. In my blue jeans. The 7-11 at the corner of Prarie Creek and Bruton is where I spent hours playing Asteroids and slurping Slurpees. The Pleasant Grove Church of Christ, on Conner Drive, is where I was baptized into Christ. Our three-bedroom house on Terra Alta Circle is where I learned how to be a family. The old Gibson’s store where I made my first major purchase: an $89 ten-speed bike, with lawnmowing money. Craving the ninety-nine cent hamburgers at Griff’s. Pulling the levers on the cigarette machines at Dairy Queen where my grandmother worked. The Circle Grill at Buckner and I-30. Doorknocking the apartments off Lake June Road. Learning to drive on Military Parkway. Twilight Time skating rink. (Oops. Sorry. I was only going to list positive memories in this paragraph.)

Jim Martin came out of P-Grove. That’s pretty cool. When he and I get together for our monthly meetings in Waco or run into one another in Austin or Abilene, our conversation inevitably turns to something only Rats like us could appreciate. And when Jim told me a couple of months ago that Stanley Hauerwas, the great American theologian and one of my favorite authors, was born and raised in the Grove, I was skeptical.

But here’s the proof. Today’s Dallas Morning News carries a front-page story (below the fold) about Hauerwas’ roots in Pleasant Grove. He’s just released a memoir, Hannah’s Child, that details a lot of his childhood experiences as the only son of a Pleasant Grove bricklayer, faithful members of the Pleasant Mound Methodist Church. From there, Hauerwas has gone on to lecture and write and teach and preach. Yale Divinity School. Notre Dame. Duke Divinity School. He’s one of the great theological thinkers of our time.

My favorite work of his is Resident Aliens. Living as Christians in a pagan land. The Church as a colony of outsiders in the middle of hostile territory. Read it. It’s challenging. Convicting. You won’t be the same after you’ve digested Resident Aliens. You won’t view God’s Church or God’s mission for his Church the same way. His writings have certainly had a profound impact on shaping my theology. Hauerwas is a genius.

And he’s from the Grove.

Samuell HSThe Dallas Morning News article mentions that Hauerwas graduated from Samuell High School in 1958. My dad was a Samuell Spartan, class of 1960! Is there any chance? Could they have known each other? Is it even possible? I took my driver’s education at Samuell. But does my dad know Hauerwas?

He doesn’t. I just called. My dad doesn’t even have a 1958 Samuell year book, only a ’59 and ’60.

That’s allright. Today, it’s a little bit cooler to be from the Grove.

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

Rangers magic number is 26!The magic number is 26. Any combination of 26 wins by the Rangers and losses by the A’s gives our baseball team their first division title since 1999. Do you realize that there are only 32 games remaining? If the Rangers go 16-16 the rest of the way — no chance since Cruz comes back tonight and Kinsler’s scheduled to be in the lineup by this weekend — Oakland would have to go 25-8 to win the A.L.West.

I remember well those Red Octobers from the late ’90s. Whitney doesn’t. This is fun.

Peace,

Allan

Lukewarm Disciples Part Two

July 13, 2010 / / 4 Comments

“Lukewarm people say they love Jesus, and he is, indeed, a part of their lives. But only a part. They give him a section of their time, their money, their thoughts, but he isn’t allowed to control their lives.” ~Francis Chan, Crazy Love, p.72

None of self, all of thee!As I consider my own discipleship to Christ, my own calling to deny myself and take up my cross and follow my Lord, I don’t want to be mediocre about any of it. I don’t want to hold anything back. I want to give him and “it” — my discipleship — my all.

And if I’m not careful, it’s easy for me to feel like I’m doing that simply because I’m a preacher.

Hey, look at everything I gave up. Look at all of my sacrifice. Look at the tremendous risks I took. I left my radio career. I sold the house and moved to Austin to get theological training, trusting God to provide. And now I’m preaching the Gospel. I’m teaching Bible classes. I’m ministering to people. I’m promoting church programs. I’ve given it all to God.

The honest truth is that I’m not sure I’ve really given up anything. It’s not really risky or hard, it’s not really a sacrifice to preach at Legacy. It’s a huge upper-middle class church in a suburb just minutes away from our families and stomping grounds in a wonderful part of Texas in the wealthiest country in world history. I get paid tons of money, I have a massive house with a pool, two nice cars, health insurance, a savings account, and an air-conditioned office with a big desk and a swivel chair.

I look at Manuel and Yvina Calderon and the work God is doing through them at Siempre Familia in the Rosemont area of Fort Worth and I see sacrifice. I see front-line Christian ministry. I see people being impacted, lives being eternally changed, by the Gospel. I look at David and Olivia Nelson in Kharkov, Ukraine and I see real risk and hard-core faith for Christ. I see them leaving everything behind to take Jesus to people who’ve never heard.

When I look at myself, I’m sometimes afraid that my discipleship doesn’t add up.

I’m not comparing myself to these missionaries. I don’t think that’s right. And I don’t feel guilty about the house and the cars. I use those to God’s glory and to bless other people in Christ’s name. I just don’t want to become complacent. I don’t want to settle. Yes, that’s what I’m trying to say: I don’t want to settle.

Because it’s easy to settle.

It’s easy for us preachers, I think, to slip into a very un-Christ-like mentality and pattern. Eugene Peterson describes it in Working the Angles (I think, I don’t have time to look it up) as church chaplains, holding the hands of the saved. Just kind of babysitting the faithful. Making life comfortable for the saints. Working to help the Christians feel better about themselves and their church. Religious shopkeeping.

That’s a pretty comfortable life for a preacher, too.

I don’t want that. I want all of my life — every moment, every action, every reaction, every interaction — to be lived not from a sense of self but from a sense of God. I want to hold myself to the high standard of my calling as a disciple of my risen Lord. I don’t want to compromise. When I’m writing a sermon, when people come to me for advice, when I’m teaching a class, when I’m counseling a friend, I want to give it my all from a deep sense of the God who lives in us and whose Spirit is working to transform us from the inside out. If my primary orientation is of my God, then I must be committed enough that when people ask me to do or say something that will not lead them into a more mature participation in Christ I refuse. I don’t compromise.

But it’s so easy to settle.

Not everybody I talk to wants to jump all the way in. Not everybody in our church is willing to go all the way. Chan says I have to “sprint up the down escalator, putting up with perturbed looks from everyone else who is gradually moving downward.” Peterson says it’s hard because the people who would rather we just settle into a nice, comfortable Christianity and Christian ministry are all “nice, intelligent, treat us with respect, and pay our salaries.”

I . Don’t . Want . To . Settle .

But it’s so easy to settle.

Allan

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