Category: Carley (Page 8 of 11)

Two Little Sandies

For the first time in 15 years, the first day of school came and I did not drive one or more of my daughters to their campus. I was down to just one kid last year; Carley and I made the drive together to Bonham Middle School every day. But this morning, she got into Valerie’s truck and the two took off for Amarillo High without me.

Of course, I woke them up with my traditional rendition of “School Bells,” sung at the top of my lungs in an overly-annoying tone. I took all the normal first day of school pictures before they left. And I said to them in the garage what I have said to them every school day since they started Kindergarten: “Work hard, learn a lot, be sweet.” But as they walked to the truck, I heard Valerie say to Carley, “He’s following us.”

Yeah, Valerie’s a senior and Carley’s a freshman. Valerie’s already had her senior pictures made and Carley starts Drivers Ed this afternoon for the permit she’ll get in about two weeks.

Two beautiful little Sandies.

Sigh.

Raised with Christ

“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.” ~Colossians 3:1-4

Our youngest daughter, Carley, was baptized into Christ Jesus on Sunday. She publicly renounced the ways of the world and confessed the ultimate lordship of Jesus and her commitment to him. She was buried with him — symbolically, sacramentally; she was raised with Christ — symbolically, sacramentally — to walk in newness of eternal life with our King. She has been forgiven by God of every sin she’s ever committed and will ever commit against his great holiness. She is now indwelled by God himself in the form of his Spirit — symbolized by the first huge breath she took after coming up out of the watery grave. And she belongs exclusively to our heavenly Father. She is his and he is hers. Forever. Amen.

As we talked and prayed with Carley this past week, she asked me almost every night, “Who’s going to do the ‘Since then…?'”

The “Since then…” is the congregational reading of Colossians 3:1-4. It’s a baptismal tradition/liturgy at the Legacy church we initiated with the opening of the new worship center there in 2008. As soon as the newly baptized follower came up out of the water, the congregation would recite those words of blessing and challenge, of affirmation and commission. It was — and still is — a powerful way for the church to participate in the baptism and for the wet Christian to feel the strength of belonging now to a baptized community.

Well, we don’t do that here at Central.

Yes, we clap and cheer and sometimes even stand and shout when someone is baptized. Several people are usually waiting backstage to pray with the newly baptized brother or sister afterward . For teenagers, as many as thirty or forty people will crowd back there to offer congratulations and prayers. But our worship center is built and our baptistry positioned in such a way that congregational participation in a baptism event itself is all but impossible. Our baptistry is some 25-feet up in the air, far removed from the church itself. People on the very front pews are still 75-feet away from the water and are forced to watch the baptisms on the giant screens. Folks scattered around the giant room are even farther away and have no choice but to watch it on the screens. I was dismayed Sunday to walk out into the water in front of our church with my wife and our youngest daughter, and look out into our loving congregation to see 99-percent of them not looking at us, but watching on the screens. And we’re in the same room! Our building has turned baptisms into a spectator event.

But I asked our brothers and sisters to read the “Since then…” to Carley when she came up out of the water. We put the words on the screen. And they did it. It was beautiful. It was powerful. It honored us as a family. And it meant the world to Carley.

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you, Central Church of Christ, for loving our daughter and our whole family the way you do. Not a day goes by that we don’t recognize how blessed we are to be with you. Thank you to our small group and Carley’s middle school Muddle families who blessed us so wonderfully at our home Sunday night. You poured truth into our daughter. You affirmed her; you challenged her; you read God’s Holy Word to her and promised to always love her. Thank you. Thank you to the Popes and the Marshalls who drove thirteen hours round trip from Legacy to rejoice with us this weekend. Your friendship is a testament to the faithfulness of our God. And thank you to Carrie-Anne’s mom and my parents who sacrificed a lot to be here this past weekend. You received the Christian faith from your parents, you passed it on to your children, and you are blessing us as we pass it on together to your grandchildren. Thank you.

Carley, you now belong to our God. Paul told the Christians in Galatia that you are a daughter of God by faith when you clothe yourself with Christ by baptism (Galatians 3:26-27). When you were baptized Sunday, you put to death the old Carley. You killed that girl; you buried her. And when you came up out of the water, you were a brand new creature. God has created something brand new inside you Carley, so that by his Spirit you will experience all of life in a brand new way. Death has nothing on you now, precious daughter. And neither does sin.

Our prayer for you, Carley, is that our God will bless you richly with his grace and peace, his protection and provision. Our great desire is to see you become more and more like our Lord. Our eternal hope is that you walk with him faithfully, all the way to the end.

We love you. And we are so proud of you. And we know your life in Christ is going to result in praise and glory to God. May his holy will be done in you and through you, Carley, just as it is in heaven.

Love, like you just can’t believe,

Dad

Happy Birthday Carley Sue!

It just seems like seven or eight years ago; certainly not fourteen! I realize that speaks more to my own rapidly advancing age than anything else. But how in the world are you — our baby, our youngest daughter, our last one — already fourteen?

You are a study in extreme contrasts, Little Bear. You were born screaming at the top of your lungs that Friday afternoon in Wichita Falls and you haven’t stopped screaming since. Good grief, you’re loud, girl. Always have been. I have no idea where you got that. But at the same time, you’ve always exhibited a really quiet and reflective side. I’ve watched you spend hours and hours curled up in a book, writing in your journal, drawing another puppy dog or little girl with big eyes.

You can be so demanding — bottle now! polka-dotted blanket, now! Cheerios, now! mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, now! And, yet, you can be so incredibly selfless and sacrificial — making and giving gifts to family and friends, deferring the choice of TV show or restaurant or souvenir T-shirt to others.

You’re the one, way beyond your sisters, who wants to wrestle and fight, slap box and spar. I never know when you’re going to jump on my back as I’m innocently passing through the living room. When are you going to punch me in the gut next? How many times this week am I going to have to fend off another fake — and pathetic — karate kick or chop to the throat? But at the same time, you’re the one, far and above your sisters, who delights in the cuddles and hugs. Your “burrowing” at night and your insistence on the back scratches, still to this day, are precious to me.

The contrasts in styles and personality, pleasures and peeves, seem much more pronounced during these your middle school years. And I thoroughly enjoy trying to figure them out. You bring me great joy, daughter. I love being with you.

I love that you have Beatles posters on your wall, that you know John Cougar and John Mellencamp are the same guy, and that you recognize within a few notes the difference between a song by the Rolling Stones and one by The Who. I love that you make fun of girls who like Justin Bieber and One Direction. I love that you quote lines from Indiana Jones and It’s a Wonderful Life and that you remember funny stories I’ve shared about my own childhood. I love that you have perfect eyebrows and a sarcastic and sharp sense of humor. I love that you used to have seven thousand Beanie Babies and still get weird and weepy over a particularly cute stuffed animal in a toy store display. I love that you still want to eat lunch with me on your birthday.

More than those wonderful things, I love that you love our God. I love your knowledge and hunger for his Word. I love the way you finish my sentences when I’m quoting Scripture. I love that you want to follow Jesus, to imitate him, to be more like him. I love that you want to help other people in his manner, to worship God in his name, and serve him to his glory. I love listening to you sing. And pray.

You, Carley, are a gift to me straight from heaven. God gave you to us. And we are beyond delighted.

Happy Birthday, Bear.

I love you,

Dad

Corporate Singing as Spiritual Discipline

Yes, today is Wednesday. It’s hump day, it’s already the middle of the week, and I’ve neglected to post the traditional first-day-of-school pictures that have always marked the beginning of another education cycle at Stanglin Manor. The tradition is that I wake them up five minutes before their alarms are set to ring with several loud and very off key singings of “School Bells.” And, right before we head out the door, the taking of the pictures. Here they are: Valerie, our “little middle,” a junior now at Amarillo High; and Carley, our “tiny bear,” entering 8th grade at Bonham.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’d like to spend today and tomorrow considering a piece authored by Sean Palmer, a very talented preacher of the Word down in Temple, Texas. This short article was forwarded to me a couple of weeks ago by our worship minister here at Central, Kevin Schaffer. I love the article and want to share it and explore it in this space for two reasons: 1) I agree with it entirely; it says everything I’ve been preaching and teaching about corporate singing for many years, and 2) it says it so much better than I ever have.

With Sean’s forgiveness (he has to forgive me; he’s a Christian!), I’m just going to paste the first half of the article right here:

There’s nothing the church does so wonderfully and terribly as singing. If you’ve spent more than 10-minutes inside an American worship service, you already know how important singing is. Regardless of the worship style of your congregation, the music is important and usually done well. Music has power. It transforms moments and has the power to embed memories and stir emotions. We are moved by the singing and music in ways little else can or does. For most of us, the music and singing of our congregation is one of the major reasons we picked it.

And that’s the problem. In the mid-20th century, some traveling and nationally known preachers decided that a “personal Savior” was the carrot-and-stick that would motivate non-believers to come to faith. It worked. For the last 50-years, the sales pitch for faith in Jesus has been a personal one. “If YOU were to die today, where would you spend eternity? If YOU ask Jesus into your heart… If YOU accept Jesus as your personal Savior…” A measure of individualistic focus is right and good. After all, I live in a world where I cannot make faith decisions for other people. And as a good Anabaptist, I would choose not to even if I could. Nevertheless, it’s nearly impossible to imagine that such a singular focus could result in much other than a self-centered faith. After all, we got into this for personal reasons.

And that’s where the singing comes in.

Our corporate/common singing, regardless of the musical style of our congregation, is still viewed by too many as an individual pursuit. This is odd, because we can’t do corporate singing alone. We just wish the songs were picked and sang as if corporate worship existed for us alone. Don’t believe me? Do you know anyone who left their church because of a change in “worship?” In truth, these changes are barely changes in worship. Most churches still celebrate the Eucharist, engage sermons, sing, pray, and — sadly — have announcements. What changes is the singing! And the reason people leave over “worship” is because they no longer “like” the singing… personally.

Of course, we rarely say that out loud. We say, “It’s not what I grew up with. This music doesn’t speak to me. I’m not being fed by this.” Or we evaluate the musicality and lyrical content of the music. Don’t get me wrong. It hardly ever matters what style of music you prefer — hymns, CCM, instrumental, Gregorian, a cappella, classical, jazz — all of us do the same thing.

Our problem is that we enjoy, celebrate, bemoan, criticize, and judge church life based on what we like. We are deciding on the basis of what we like because we’ve bought into the lie that our corporate singing should be personal. Personal worship for a personal Savior, right? But what would church look like if we reframed corporate singing, not in the ever-narrowing category of “worship,” but as a spiritual discipline?

If corporate singing were a spiritual discipline…

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

Allright, let’s stop right here for the day. I’ll post the second half of the article, all five of Palmer’s reasons for viewing congregational singing as a spiritual discipline, tomorrow. For now, let’s consider his premise that most of the people in our churches — including, if we don’t guard against it, our church leaders — view their salvation in Jesus Christ as a personal thing.

In our increasingly individualistic and highly specialized society, our default is to see what God has done through Christ on the cross and what the Spirit did at the garden tomb was for me. Christ died for me. God loves me. Jesus gives me eternal life. I am saved. I am a Christian. I worship God. He answers my prayers. Me, me, me!

Contemporary praise songs support this individualistic view of our salvation and relationship with God. Most church songs written in the U.S.A. in the last quarter-century use many more singular personal pronouns than plural. O Lord, Prepare Me to be a Sanctuary. A Shield About Me. My God is Mighty to Save. I will Call Upon the Lord. I stand to praise you, but I fall on my knees. O God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you. My Life is in You, Lord. Holy Lord, most holy Lord, you alone are worthy of my praise. On Bended Knee I Come. Nobody Fills My Heart Like Jesus. He Has Made Me Glad. I Worship You, Almighty God. Make Me a Servant. The joy of the Lord will be my strength, I will not falter, I will not faint. You Are My All and All. Jesus, you’re my firm foundation, I know I can stand secure. Lord, I Lift Your Name on High. I Sing Praises to Your Name. I could go on and on. But this is enough to make the point.

They’re not all like this. Some of the songs we sing together speak as or to the corporate body of Christ. But for every We Bring the Sacrifice of Praise or We Shall Assemble on the Mountain, there are a dozen or more songs like There’s a stirring deep within me and Here I am to worship, here I am to bow down, here I am to say that you’re my God.

Those of you who are members of churches who use an abundance of technology during corporate worship, have you noticed how all the pictures and backgrounds are mainly of one person worshiping God? You probably haven’t noticed it or paid attention to it because it’s so prevalent in our society and, consequently now, in our churches. Look at it this Sunday. One man standing on a mountain with his hands raised to God. One woman in a field, bowing down in prayer to God. It’s in our PowerPoints and Easy Worships, on our bulletins and websites, our art and our language foster and support this idea of an individualistic salvation. Kevin tells me all the time it’s next to impossible to find worship images for our use in assemblies that depict more than one person adoring God.

Naturally, and unfortunately, this shapes us into a people who expect the songs on Sunday mornings to be our personal favorite songs, the songs we personally enjoy, the songs that speak to us personally, the songs that personally move us or have special meaning for us. Personally. Of course, no one is saved alone. Not one person is saved by him or herself. God saves us together, with one another, belonging to one another, in a faith community. Together. The overwhelming majority of the pronouns in Scripture are plural. The Bible was written for the collection of God’s people. God so loved the whole world that he gave Jesus who came and died for the whole world. We are made more like Christ together. We grow in the Spirit as a group. We watch and pray, sacrifice and serve, as a body. Worship in our Scriptures is never an individual or a personal thing. But we’re all programmed to view it that way. As long as we do, we’ll keep having “worship wars” and we’ll keep judging the worth of a church assembly based on our own personal preferences.

Peace,

Allan

The New Has Come!

“If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” ~2 Corinthians 5:17

We hear the word “new” about thirty-one thousand times a day. All in TV commercials, I think. New this, new that, new everything. Everything’s new. New and improved. New and longer lasting. New and April fresh. No, most of those things aren’t really new. That detergent’s not really new: they just added some blue sprinkles inside the box and a fourth color on the outside of the box. That cereal’s not new; they just replaced the yellow stars with purple ponies. Come on, we’re wise to this scam. The word “new” just means less content, more complicated packaging, at a higher price.

That’s why Paul says “new creation.” Paul says participating in the death and resurrection of Jesus dramatically changes everything. The same God who created the heavens and the earth out of emptiness and darkness takes your emptiness and darkness, he takes your confusion and chaos, and creates a brand new person. You are truly a brand new person, full of God’s Holy Spirit, made to experience all of life in a brand new way. All of this is from God, Paul says.

The same power that was on display when God first said, “Let there be light” is at work in you. The same glory that characterized the forming of the mountains and the seas, the same glory of the making of the sun and the moon and the stars, the same glory that was present in the creation of that very first human being from the dust of the ground in the holy image of Almighty God, that same original and eternal power and glory now characterizes you! And everything around you!

The old has gone; the new has come! He has changed us! He has changed everything! What God has done and is doing in your life is just as magnificent and miraculous as the creation of the world!

I’m glad Paul said, “new creation,” and not just “new.”

“New creation” changes everything.

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

My good friend Matt Richardson’s grandmother died Sunday in Abilene. He and I were exchanging some texts today about her and about the funeral later this week. He described her to me — “a Godly woman with plenty of spunk.” And then he wrote, “You’ll like her when you meet her.”

“You’ll like her when you meet her.”

Yeah, I love that. I am going to meet Matt’s grandmother some day soon. I will get to know her. And I will like her.

I thanked Matt for writing that, for reminding me that his grandmother lives forever and that we will eat and drink together with our risen King around his banquet table in his eternal Kingdom. For reminding me that my grandmother lives, too. For reminding me that he who believes in Jesus will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in Jesus will never die.

When I thanked Matt for writing, “You’ll like her when you meet her,” he texted right back:

“I didn’t mean today…”

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

Carley and the show choir at Bonham Middle School rocked the ’80s last night. If the music from my high school days is considered by today’s kids to be old and nostalgic, what does that make me?

Peace,

Allan

Happy Birthday, Carley

You’re my youngest daughter and you turn thirteen today. Our baby is a teenager. And while you’re tall and beautiful, smart and funny, using makeup now and wearing Beatles T-shirts, I still see you most of the time as my tiny little bear. You know that’s true. Are you really thirteen? Is that even possible?

I love everything about you, Carley. I love everything about what you have become over the past thirteen years and what you are becoming right before our eyes. I love it that you love Raiders of the Lost Ark and It’s a Wonderful Life. I love that you love Aerosmith and hate Justin Bieber. You think it’s cool to have an electric guitar in your room and a circle whale on your bed. I love that. You appreciate good humor. Nothing gets by you or goes over your head. I love your sarcasm and your puns and that funny little thing you do with your eyes and your mouth to note a moment of irony. It reminds me so much of your Uncle Keith. You look just like him when you do that. I love how you finish my sentences while I’m preaching. And I love how you refuse to go to bed until I’ve properly scratched your back during the “night-night hug.”

I love that you’re the life of the party with your silly friends. I love that you’re the organizer, the planner, the instigator. I love that you love being with them so much of the time. You’re a great friend, Carley. You worry about your friends and you’re sensitive to their feelings. You’re caring and giving. I love that.

I love that you’re so smart and supremely talented. Your drawings never cease to take my breath away. Like yesterday when I watched you sketching out those models so you could encourage your mom in her fashion design class. It blows me away how effortlessly you do the coolest things.

I love that you’re always in the mood to chase and be chased around the house, that you are always a threat to jump on my back from anywhere on our property, and that your punch packs a pretty good wallop. What I used to call your “tiny fists of fury” are now formidable weapons to be feared. I love the way that keeps me on my toes.

I love listening to you pray, Carley. I love the way you talk to our God. So conversational. So matter of fact. So grateful and reverent. So focused on him and on others, not yourself. I learn about your heart by listening to you pray at night. And I love what that reveals to me about what God’s Holy Spirit is doing with you. You are a child of God. You belong to him. And he’s using you in wonderful ways to reflect his glory and reveal himself to others. I love that.

Honestly, there’s a part of me that doesn’t like seeing you grow up. You’re my last one. I look at pictures of you from ten and eleven years ago — even five and six years ago! — and I miss that little tiny bear. I sometimes wish you were still waddling around with that nasty polka dotted blanket, shrieking to get your way, refusing to be left alone, delighting in Veggie Tales, and endangering life and limb with all that climbing. But the bigger part of me thrills in watching you become this beautiful woman of God. I’m beside myself with anticipation over what our Lord is going to do with you, how he’s going to use you to bless his people and advance his Kingdom. He’s given you so many wonderful abilities and gifts. He’s blessed you, Carley. And he’s doing something really special and eternal, something huge and everlasting in you. I love that.

Happy Birthday, Bear. I love you.

Dad

« Older posts Newer posts »