Category: Legacy Church Family (Page 1 of 37)

Sooner Born and Bred

“Sooner born and Sooner bred, and when I die I’ll be Sooner dead.”

Paul Dennis died yesterday. And the above line, which is one of his all-time favorites, makes me smile even as I’m typing through the tears.

The first real conversation I had with Paul was in 2007 on a Saturday morning in his living room about an hour after his son had been killed in a terrible car accident. I was the brand new preacher at Legacy–I had only been a preacher, period, for a couple of months–when I received a call at home from somebody at church, telling me that Paul and Jean’s son had been killed. So, I went. And it was horrible. I managed to say a couple of things that I thought sounded spiritual and comforting and I worded some kind of lame prayer, I’m sure. But mostly I just sat there and listened as they cried. I hugged them. I told them I loved them. I tried to act like I had it all together.

We bonded together during that tragedy, that Saturday morning and as we talked and prayed together often in the days and weeks to follow. But that initial bond, forged in disaster and grief, was strengthened for eternity over the next almost five years.

Paul and Jean Dennis sat directly behind us every single Sunday during our time at the Legacy Church. Even now I can still hear Paul’s deep resonating baritone voice singing those church songs into my ears. Into my heart and my soul. He sang with such abandon. He sang with gratitude and joy, he sang with purpose. He had his favorites, and you could tell by the change in volume and gusto from the row right behind us. But he liked all of them.

Paul is a people person. Loud. Boisterous. Full of energy and life. Always joking. Lots of puns. Always laughing and trying to make others laugh.

His love for OU football was complete and as rabid as anything I’ve ever experienced. We argued and joked about his Sooners all the time. He faithfully kept up with every recruiting class, every tweaked knee in a practice, every rumor, every statistic, every down of every game, and all the history. When I put together my Top 20 College Football Poll for this blog in 2008, Paul was the first guy I called to participate. His bias for OU and his hatred of UT came through in his weekly rankings, but it was always done in good fun.

More than all that, I love Paul Dennis for being a personal and continuous encouragement to me while I was preaching at Legacy. I was blessed by God to sit directly in front of Paul and Jean for those five years. Every single Sunday, without exception, during the song before the sermon, Paul would reach over with those massive and strong hands of his, place them on my shoulders, and say something like, “Go get ’em!” or “Preach the Word, brother” or “God bless you, Allan.” Every Sunday. And he wouldn’t leave the building without telling me something about the lesson. Something he learned. Something he needed to hear. A question about a text or a point. A related thought or memory prompted by something I had said. And a “Thank you.” Always a “Thank you.” Paul went out of his way to tell me often that I was doing a good job, usually at the moments when I seriously doubted whether I was. Our gracious God put Paul and Jean directly behind me at that Legacy Church because I needed them. I needed their kindness and generosity. I needed Jean’s sweet spirit and gentle faith. And I needed Paul’s encouragement.

Carrie-Anne and I both cried last night when we heard that Paul had died. We sat on the couch together, remembering Paul’s unmistakable voice and his unwavering faith and his consistent encouragement. Laughing and crying. Thanking God for this faithful servant of his and grateful that we were at the same church at the same time. I am a better preacher and a better Christian because of Paul Dennis.

May our gracious Lord bless Jean with his divine comfort and peace. May our God receive his servant Paul into his faithful arms. And may Paul handle it well on that resurrection day of glory when he learns that OU hats are not allowed in heaven.

Peace,

Allan

Leonard

The great Lenny Dawson died last night at the age of 87. The Hall of Fame quarterback took the Kansas City Chiefs to two Super Bowls, beating the Vikings in Super Bowl IV, the last football game played by the old AFL. I’m wearing my Len Dawson #16 football jersey today. For at least a couple of reasons.

The Chiefs have always been my second favorite football team. Remember, they began life as the Dallas Texans of the rival American Football League, sharing the Cotton Bowl with the NFL’s Dallas Cowboys, and competing with the Cowboys for fans and tickets and money. Both teams were so miserable during those early years, Texans owner Lamar Hunt once challenged Cowboys owner Clint Murchison to a head-to-head football game between the Texans and Cowboys, and “the winner gets to leave town.” Hunt did move his Texans to Kansas City where he renamed them the Chiefs and won a couple of AFL titles and, eventually, that Super Bowl with Dawson at quarterback. I’ve always felt a connection with the Chiefs because of their origins in my hometown. They’re from Dallas and I want them to succeed.

I’m also a huge fan of the old NFL Films and that Super Bowl IV in 1970 was the first time a head coach had been wired up for the championship game. Hank Stram stole the show with his one-liners and quips, most famously his exhortation to “Lenny” to “keep matriculating the ball down the field!”

That quote became the line that bonded me forever to a friend at the Legacy Church of Christ in North Richland Hills, Chris Drake. Love the Drake. He called me Lenny or Leonard because, in his view, I was trying to move our church, trying to get us somewhere, trying to grow our faith outside our Sunday assemblies and grow our vision to include the Kingdom outside our walls. He could sense I had a passion and a plan. He could also sense that it would be tough at Legacy. So he encouraged me with “keep matriculating the ball down the field.” One yard at a time. One play at a time.

Drake called me Leonard all the time. Lenny. “Keep matriculating the ball down the field.” This is how he encouraged me when he knew things were rough. Continually. “Pump it in there, baby. Set ’em up for the 65 Toss Power Trap.” Constant encouragement. True friendship. “Work for it, wait for it, them drop it on ’em. One play at a time. One yard at a time.”

After a couple of setbacks with resistant elders and grumpy members, Drake told me he would be my Daryl Johnston. He would be my lead blocker, taking out anybody who got in my way. It made me slightly uncomfortable because I never knew how serious he was. He would text me after a particularly challenging sermon with “I’m turning the corner and looking for contact!” I never thought he would ever really physically take out one of our shepherds with a crack-back block in the west foyer. Would he? He signed his emails to me with “#48.” And kept me guessing.

He gave me this Len Dawson jersey as a Christmas gift a couple of years into our ministry at Legacy – that was thirteen years ago – and I still wear it every couple of months. We still text and email each other about the Cowboys and Rangers. We still go back and forth about church politics and Kingdom of God issues in the ‘comments’ section of this blog. He still signs his communications with me as “#48.” And he still calls me Leonard.

In a weird way, Drake helped me understand my role and solidify my identity as a preacher in God’s Church. It’s not an individual sport, it’s a team game. And not every play is a touchdown pass. It always takes a few short gains between the tackles before you can go deep. It takes dirty work in the trenches, down in the mud and the sweat of the real life of the Body of Christ, before you can run that sweep to the end zone.

Len Dawson died last night.

I’m reminded that he played in a different era and represents, in many ways, a different sport. Dawson was asked once how long halftime was back when he played and he replied, “About two cigarettes.” I’m reminded that success as a preacher in the Lord’s Church means keeping your eye on the big picture and just faithfully matriculating the ball down the field, one play at a time. And I’m reminded of Drake and the way he so intentionally went out of his way to encourage this brand new preacher so long ago.

Peace,

Allan

Pray for Kharkiv

I know you are aware of the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the death and devastation unfolding on the streets and among the people of its cities. I know your heart is heavy. And I know you are in prayer. Me, too.

All war is sinful and tragic. All violence is decidedly against God’s will. The right thing to do today is to pray for God’s peace, to pray for the people on all sides of this unholy conflict, to ask God to intervene and stop the madness.

As you are doing that, would you please pray for some very specific people in Kharkiv whom Carrie-Anne and I love?

Back in 2010, my wife and I spent eleven days in Kharkiv, a fairly major eastern Ukrainian city about 20 miles from the Ukraine-Russia border. We were there to visit and encourage David and Olivia Nelson, a sweet missionary couple we were supporting from the Legacy Church. We love David and Olivia. We missed them terribly in Fort Worth and were very anxious to spend the time with them. What caught us off guard was how much and how quickly we grew to love the Ukrainians there.

I don’t know where any of these people are today. I don’t know anything about them or their families. But I am talking to our Lord about them today and I hope you will join me. I can’t get some of these people out of my head today. Or my heart.

I’m thinking about Andrei, a funny little guy who looks like Billy Crystal but who thinks and talks like he just stepped out of the Lincoln-Douglas debates. Super smart. Whoa. Andrei had only been baptized about seven months before we arrived and he was on fire for our Lord. He took off work one day to walk Carrie-Anne and me around Liberty Square and through some of the 500-year-old cathedrals. Andrei also drew blood when he beat my back with a ceremonial branch at a Ukrainian sauna. I think it was meant to honor me. Maybe.

I’m praying for Valerie and Julia. Valerie was my interpreter when I preached and taught during our time in Kharkiv. I remember having to wait on him while he came up with the Russian words for my American phrases like “wrapped around her finger” and “jump for joy.” He told me there is no Russian equivalent for “compels” as in “Christ’s love compels us.” A big red-headed dude who looked like he could suit up and play for your college alma mater right now. Very gentle and kind. He wanted to become a preacher. I have no idea if he did.

I’m thinking about Alexander, a dentist and oral surgeon. He told me in front of everybody that drinking diet soda was bad for my teeth. He spoke really good English except when he said the word “naked.” When we were reading Genesis 1 out loud he kept saying “nak’d,” just one syllable.

I’m praying for Yelena, David and Liv’s Russian language teacher. She taught Carrie-Anne and me the only Russian we know. We still say “lublu” sometimes, the Russian word for love. And Victoria, the elementary school teacher. Robert, the preacher at the Baptist church on the west side of town. Sergei, who once served hard time in a Ukrainian prison, preaching at a Christian church of about nine souls on the northeast side of Kharkiv.

I could write more about Vitali and Galina, Nikita, Masha, and Kevin.  I taught Kevin how to throw an American football with a spiral – I don’t think his real name was Kevin. I learned to tolerate chicken-flavored potato chips. I nearly threw up when David forced me to drink a glass of Kafir. We laughed when we learned the local beautification ordinance meant that everyone had to paint their houses and sheds the same color of gray. I could spend a whole post recounting our worship times together, listening to my Eastern European brothers and sisters sing “Nearer My God to Thee” and “Lamb of God” in Russian. About sharing the bread and the wine together at that tiny church building near Aptarski Lane and in the Nelsons’ living room.

We rode the subways where, today, people are huddling together and hiding from the tanks and the missiles. We hung out at the coffee shops that, today, are boarded up and abandoned. We shopped and laughed with the Nelsons’ neighbors at that massive downtown Kharkiv market that, today, is empty.

That was almost twelve years ago. I don’t know where any of these good people are today – if they are still living in Kharkiv, if they are safe, if they are scared, if they are okay. I am praying for them and their families today and for all the people of that great city where I witnessed first hand our God saving people and advancing his Kingdom.

You might be connected to Ukraine through Our House and the Gospel work done for so many years in Donetsk by Tony and Shanna Morrow. I know the Morrows came back to Abilene a few months ago. I found out today that Bill Hayes got out three weeks ago. But I don’t know anything about the community of teenage orphans they established there.

Maybe you’re connected to the people of Ukraine by Eastern European Missions. Maybe you’ve sent Russian and Ukraine language Bibles there.

Pray for the people of Ukraine today. Pray for our Christian brothers and sisters over there, six thousand miles away from Texas, and in so much danger and peril. Pray that the war would end, that all hostilities would cease, that all pain and death and demonstrations of power and force would disappear from that whole region. Pray that God’s will would be done in Ukraine and Moscow just as it is in heaven.

Do not put your trust in politicians or their positions, in armies or their weapons, in generals and secretaries or their strategies and plans. Put your trust and offer your prayers to the One Sovereign who alone can stop the senseless violence against innocent people.

“God is the King of all the earth;
sing to him a psalm of praise.
God reigns over the nations;
God is seated on his holy throne.’
~Psalm 47

Peace. Seriously. Peace.

Allan

Double Knot

Our middle daughter is already on her second marriage.
Valerie has been married twice but never widowed or divorced.
It took two weddings in the middle of this global pandemic to successfully tie her knot with David. And Friday’s wedding was a spectacular event.

Carrie-Anne and I are both grateful and humbled by the numbers of long-time friends who traveled great distances to be with our family on this special night. Dan and Jennifer and Meredith made the drive up from Marble Falls and Mike brought LeeAnn (and those Virdell granddaughters!) to make those awesome cakes. David and Shanna and Delaney, John and Suzanne, and Lance from the Legacy Church. Jason and Tiersa, Chris and Liz, Kevin and Anita, and Brian and Terry from our days together in Mesquite. All the familiar faces from our Central church family. And our family and relatives from Austin and Dallas and East Texas and Oklahoma City.  All these good people who have poured themselves into our lives for so many years. What a blessing from God to be together for this special weekend.

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this celebration of David and Valerie. Thank you for your love and your friendship. Thank you for all the times we’ve prayed together, eaten together, laughed and cried together, and moved boxes out of each other’s attics. Thank you for what you mean to our daughters and our family. We are so blessed by our God because of you.

Peace,

Allan

Two in Oklahoma

Our youngest daughter, Carley, joined her middle sister, Valerie, at Oklahoma Christian University this weekend and we’re just hoping that campus is big enough for the both of them.

Moving a girl into a freshman dorm today is a whole lot different from when I moved into those OC dorms as a college freshman back in 1985. I had all my worldly possessions in the back seat of my ’74 Monte Carlo: a suitcase full of jeans and T-shirts, two pair of shoes, an electric typewriter, and a boom box. It seems I remember it taking about an hour to get unpacked and organized. With Carley, it was an almost ten hour ordeal that included unloading multiple storage totes, hanging lights, plugging in refrigerators, water dispensers, and coffee makers, raising beds to an ideal height, and setting up complicated shelving systems.

To their credit, she and her roommate, Hayleigh, did transform a drab cinder-block cube into a somewhat livable abode.

It was good to see some great old friends from our Legacy days moving in their kids, too: David and Shanna with their son Dawson, Ron and Stephanie with their daughter Brighton, and David and Krista with their daughter Maddie.

Emotionally, moving our youngest child into college was a little more difficult than I had imagined. Maybe I hadn’t thought about it much or hadn’t thought about it in the right ways. But it all kind of snuck up on me in the past week. Waving goodbye to Carley from the gas station parking lot — she heading east back to campus in her little Jeep and us heading west to Amarillo — was strange. If you’ve done it, you know. A weird mix of pride and concern, excitement and hesitation. It’s really weird not having another one coming up behind Carley. She’s our last one. This is it.

Carley and Valerie, we love you both. Give each other plenty of space, but be sure to take care of each other, too. May God bless you both with good grades, great friends and a wonderful semester.

Peace,

Dad

Worlds Are Colliding, Jerry!

What a joy to welcome some of our very best friends from Legacy and their massive youth group into our student space here at Central for a quick sleep over on their way to a mission experience with an Indian reservation in Arizona. This was a busy weekend at the weigh station that is Central during the summer. Dozens of church youth groups crash at our place on their way to somewhere pretty. But it’s always special to welcome Legacy.

We stayed up there until midnight last night, getting caught up with everybody’s kids who, surprisingly, are growing up at the same rate as our kids. These tiny children who were in elementary and middle school when we left Legacy six years ago are now in high school and a few of them have graduated and are heading to places like Abilene and Santa Monica for college.

Carley came straight from a late shift at The Big Texan to meet us so she could hug Kate and verify that, yes, Dawson seems to be growing four inches taller every six months. I enjoyed so much showing off our 88-year-old chapel to Stephanie and David, getting the low-down on the basketball gang from Chris, marveling at how much these kids look like their parents, and wondering why we adults haven’t changed at all in the past six years but our children have.

After I made sure they knew how to get to the Donut Stop on Georgia Street and which exit to take to spray paint Cadillac Ranch on the way out of town, we left them blowing up their air mattresses and brushing their teeth. All fifty of them are coming back through Amarillo next Saturday to eat a late lunch at Blue Sky — Ron, that cheeseburger will change your life — and I’ll be there to meet them.

Yes, I’ll use any excuse to eat at Blue Sky. But, much more than that, I love hanging out with these great people. Being with Chris and Lori, Ron and Stephanie, Larry and Deanna, and David and Shanna reminds me of just how blessed I am by our God. They remind me that Legacy believed in me and took a chance on me before I believed in myself. They were so patient with me and kind; they encouraged me and worked with me while I learned and made mistakes. But these couples in particular never ceased to protect me. They had my back. They prayed for me. We worshiped and served together in small groups, we sorted T-shirts together, we set up and tore down Give Away Day together, we brainstormed and prayed together. And spent some really good times together at Texhoma.

God bless the Legacy Church of Christ and these wonderful families we love so much. God be with us til we meet again at that glorious place. Blue Sky next Saturday.

Peace,

Allan

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