The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

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Upholding the Ideal

September 22, 2011 / / 1 Comment

Our holy Scriptures are full of lofty ideals. We listen to Jesus say, “Love your enemies,” and we realize, “Wait a second, I don’t even like my friends!” Give to everyone who asks. Never lust. Always forgive. Rejoice in persecution. Put the needs of others ahead of your own. Our Lord calls for a single-minded fidelity to following him without reservation. And it’s demanding. Impossibly so. Yes, the Holy Spirit of God empowers us to do what Christ is calling us to do. But we don’t always do it. We mess up. We sin. We fall.

To borrow from Yancey, I find that, personally, I talk and write about spiritual disciplines far better than I practice them.

How about you?

Yeah, I know.

But we keep trying, right?

We never put our feet on the floor in the morning and allow that, “I’m human so I’m going to sin today. There’s no way I’m going to be perfect today. I’m going to mess up. I’m human.” No! God forbid! We strive with everything in our power and by the strength of the Spirit to pledge that, today, I’m going to be like my Lord! We don’t ever give in to the world’s conclusion that we cannot possibly be like Christ. We keep trying.

Scripture paints a beautiful picture of the Kingdom of God and the coming wedding feast of the Lamb. It’s a gathering of “every tribe and language and people and nation.” We find “the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame” around the table. Paul makes it clear that, in Christ, there is “neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.”

I believe the very core of the Gospel of Jesus is that our Christ died and rose again in order to destroy completely and eternally all the barriers that exist between God and man and man and one another. Social distinctions. Cultural differences. Language obstacles. Socio-economic disparity. Zip codes and tax brackets. None of these things register as even a blip on our fellowship radar. These differences don’t even exist in Christ.

But we have black churches. And white churches. And hispanic churches. And rich churches. And poor churches. And somehow we’ve fooled ourselves into thinking that’s OK. We have begun to believe the lie that church has always been this way and it will always be this way. The cultural differences are too great. The language difficulties are too much. We’ve tried to integrate, we’ve tried to come together, but it’s just never worked. And it never will work.

So, why try?

Because there is honor in the trying. Trying is an act of faith. Our Father wants us to engage that struggle and try. He wants us to try.

Scripture gives us a crystal-clear mandate. It tells us in no uncertain terms that the table of Christ and the house of God is to be enjoyed by all. Together. United as one. Everybody equal. Everybody just as wretched and lost and condemned to death without Jesus and everybody just as holy and saved and righteous because of Jesus. Together. We uphold the ideals we find in Scripture. We lift up those ideals and we try with everything we have to bring heaven to earth, to practice God’s will on earth just as it is in heaven.

And we slip. And we fall. And fail. And do really stupid things. But we never give up. We never give in to the world’s conclusions that division along racial and economic and language lines is necessary. We keep trying. And we trust that Jesus, our King, is watching even as we are “straining at the oars.” He’s interceding for us as he watches. And he’s proud of us. He’s pleased with us as we keep trying.

Peace,

Allan

A Banner Beginning

September 19, 2011 / / 5 Comments

What an amazing day of worship and praise and communion and fellowship with the Body of Christ that meets here at Central! What great energy and enthusiasm among the more than 800 disciples of Jesus in the building! The singing to our Lord was inspired. The words and prayers from our shepherds were challenging and convicting. The example of our Savior to live our lives as huge billboards proclaiming the glory of our God is motivating and encouraging. I certainly felt like God was present in every handshake, every hug, every pat on the back. More than 500 of us Sweatin’ to the Oldies together in the chapel last night and then trying to cool off with Levi’s green chili ice cream is something I thoroughly enjoyed and will never forget. What a marvelous day and great beginning to our ministry together.

What a blessing to pray together with my shepherds and ministers in the chapel early yesterday morning. What a joy to be joined by Paul and John. What an honor to have Paul and Andrea, John and Suzanne, and Darryn and Cindy and Camryn and Ryan here with us Saturday night and Sunday. What a blessing to see Gerald and Joice Ball in the crowd! To have ten people here with us from Legacy means the world to me. What great friends. What true devotion. What awkwardness when Darryn writes on his nametag “Legacy Search Committee.” And wears it all day.

The work here at Central is great, the call from our God in this place is clear, and the challenge is real. Yet, I am filled with a tremendous deal of confidence and courage, realizing that this is bigger than me, bigger than us, bigger than just the Central Church of Christ. God has huge plans for us. He is working in mighty ways to impact our panhandle communities for his Kingdom.

I want to thank every single person who has encouraged me with a text, an email, or a voice message over the past 48 hours. I received 25 texts of prayers and well wishes in a 90-minute window early yesterday morning. And it hasn’t slowed down much since. Thank you. Every one of you have played and are playing a role in shaping me and encouraging me and pushing me to be God’s servant and a servant of his Kingdom.

God bless us. And may his holy will be done here at Central and throughout this world just as it is in heaven.

Peace,

Allan

The Hope of Glory

September 18, 2011 / / 0 Comments

I have become the Church’s servant by the commission God gave me to present to you the Word of God in its fullness — the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the saints. To them God has chosen to make known the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.

Peace,

Allan

Meaning To Do Them Good

September 17, 2011 / / 3 Comments

In less than 24 hours I’ll be preaching to and with my new church family. There will be a dozen people in our worship center who’ve heard me preach more than 200 sermons in person. These dear friends from Legacy know me. They love me and they know my deep love for them. But the overwhelming majority of the listeners tomorrow will be hearing me for the very first time.

And they need to know that I love our Lord. And I love them.

John Newton wrote that his congregation would take almost anything from him, however painful, because they knew “I mean to do them good.”

That is the litmus test for my preaching ministry. That’s my centering point for everything I do. Intending to always do them good means my sermon preparation is a more sacred endeavor than just satisfying my own personal love of study. It means my preaching will have characteristics that are maybe difficult to define but still sensed by my hearers that reflect what Paul meant when he talked about preaching and pastoring:

“We do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake.” ~2 Corinthians 4:5

“We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the Gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.” ~1 Thessalonians 2:8

“I will very gladly spend for you everything I have and expend myself as well.” ~2 Corinthians 12:15

I have been receiving more phone calls and emails and text messages since yesterday from our brand new friends here at Central wishing me well, showering me with love and encouragement, and expressing their excitement. I received a voice mail this morning from a dear sister here who said, among other things, “We already love you and your family; you can’t do a single thing to make us love you more.”

They need to know I love them, too. God help me; I mean to do them good.

Peace,

Allan

Saving a Seat for Paul

September 16, 2011 / / 8 Comments

Going into our shepherds meeting this past Wednesday, I wasn’t really sure who would be praying with me at 8:00 Sunday morning. I assumed I would invite all of our shepherds and ministers to join me in the chapel early Sunday morning so we could pray together for the day and that several of them would commit to showing up.

That’s always been my habit.

Since my earliest days as a minister in Marble Falls, 8:00 on Sunday morning has been a sacred time for me. Jim Gardner and Jimmy Mitchell and I prayed together in Jim’s office at 8:00 every Sunday. Jim would have his Red Bull, Jimmy would have his Muscle Milk (gross!) and I’d be working on my second or third Diet Dr Pepper. And we would pray together. For one another. For God’s Church. For the day.

It continued at Legacy. First, with the worship leaders, Howard and Gordon, during my transition months between Austin Grad and moving to NRH. On my first official day there, every single one of the shepherds showed up. Then after that, six or seven guys committed to praying with me in the church library every Sunday morning. That lasted a few months. And then it began to dwindle. Four guys. Then three. Two for a while. And then there was one.

Paul Brightwell.

Every single Sunday morning. 8:00. Paul would walk into my study. “What’s going on?” And we would shake hands, small talk while we strolled into the library, and then pray. Every single Sunday morning. 8:00. Paul and me. For four years. Praying.

We prayed together for the people at Legacy. We prayed in anticipation of the events of the day. We asked God to bless our assembly, to be present in every interaction among his people, to encourage those who were looking for a word of grace and to convict those who needed a push. We asked God to work on us, to change us more into the image of his Son. We prayed our thanksgivings and our laments together. We prayed through the health problems of Paul’s parents and, eventually, through the death of Paul’s dad. We prayed together through my struggles and triumphs as Legacy’s preacher, all the ups and downs of life in congregational ministry. Paul knew when I was nervous or worried about that day’s message. And we prayed about it. He knew instinctively when I was really excited about what God was going to say through me that day. And we praised God for it. We prayed about our kids and our wives. We thanked God for our friendship.

Sometimes we prayed for ten minutes; sometimes we were in there together for nearly an hour. Sometimes I’d be running around like crazy — updating some sermon slides on the S Drive, re-printing some Small Groups Church study guides, moving some chairs around in a classroom — and Paul would find me. “Stop!” he would say. “Stop! Let’s pray.” And I’d drop whatever I was doing, wherever we happened to be, we’d put our arms around each other, and Paul would pray for God to calm me down, to get me focused, and to use me to his eternal glory in the next couple of hours.

I’m going to need a Paul Brightwell here at Central.

So, Wednesday night, heading into our elders meeting, I’m ready to invite the shepherds and ministers to pray with me at 8:00 Sunday morning. But everything got away from me. Man, when Tim decides the meeting’s over, it’s over! Boom! We went from the middle of a fairly important discussion to a beautiful conclusion with assigned action items to our closing prayer before I even knew what was happening. And the meeting was over. I hadn’t offered my invitation for Sunday morning prayer. I figured I would just have to send out an email the next day. I’m not going to pray alone at 8:00 Sunday morning.

So I got in my truck. Pulled out onto 14th Street on my way home and checked my phone. Two missed calls. From Paul Brightwell. One voice mail. “Call me.”

I’ve only talked to Paul once since we moved. So I called.

“Hey,” he says. “What are you doing at 8:00 Sunday morning?”

“I’m going to be praying in the Central chapel,” I answered him. “It’s Central’s original worship center, a stunning 82-year-old chapel that’s right next to my office here. I’ll be praying in there, hopefully, with a bunch of our shepherds and ministers.”

And Paul says, “Save me a seat.”

He and Andrea are coming up Saturday night. Paul wants to pray with me on my first official day at Central. At 8:00 Sunday morning.

And I am humbled. And I’m typing through tears even now, at 9:00 Friday morning, thinking about it. I praise God for the people he’s put in my life, people like Paul Brightwell, who have given themselves to encouraging me in my ministry. To praying for me and with me. To paying attention to me and lifting me up when I’m down and bringing me down a few notches when I get too high. For knowing me. And caring.

Thank you, God, for Paul Brightwell.

And, thank you, Paul.

Our Sunday mornings together in prayer have, more times than you know, gotten me through the day. You have always said the exact right thing to me at the exact right time. I believe that God pushed you directly into my path to speak through you to me, to help me do what God has called me to do. Those Sunday mornings with you are precious to me. Thank you for allowing our Father to use you in that way. Thank you for the selfless way you gave yourself to God, to me, and to our church on those Sunday mornings.

God will give me a Sunday morning prayer partner here at Central. He knows how badly I need it. It may happen this month or it may take a while. I have no idea who it’s going to be; but God’s going to make sure I’m not praying alone on Sundays. This Sunday, I’ll be in a group of elders and ministers, these church leaders who are going to become some of my very best friends. There may be twenty of us in that chapel day after tomorrow.

But I’m saving a seat for Paul.

Peace,

Allan

The Face of God

September 15, 2011 / / 1 Comment

We’ve just begun a Sunday morning adult Bible class series on the book of Exodus, the great foundational story of God’s rescuing a desperate band of nameless slaves and shaping them into a nation of his holy people for the salvation of the world. Wow. That’s quite a lot to consider.

The first couple of chapters in Exodus deal with God’s concern for the dignity of his created people. They have names and families and hurts and needs. All of them. Even these poor slaves who have no power, no resources, no status; they have dignity and beauty and great value as God’s created sons and daughters. They have names.

And we’re trying at Central to restore that same dignity to and recognize the value in the powerless marginalized of downtown Amarillo. Sunday mornings at the Upreach Center, Wednesday nights at Martha’s home, and Thursdays at Loaves and Fishes are special times each week when we make faithful attempts to show the love and grace of Jesus to those who need it most. For the past three Thursdays I’ve been blessed to share the good news of salvation from God in Christ to 140-150 people who are desperate for food and shelter. And grace. And hope.

I preach to them. (Or, I should say, I preach ‘with’ them. They talk to me and with me throughout my time down there. Lots of ‘amens’ and ‘thank you, Jesus.’) I visit with them about segregation and old BBQ joints and grandkids and illnesses. Actually, I mostly listen. I hug them. We laugh together. And we always wind up marveling together about the faithfulness of our God. And his great goodness.

Oh, yeah. Some of them are grouchy, too. Just like church people, some of them complain and wonder aloud why they aren’t being properly treated.

But the whole scene reminds me of something Robert Coles wrote in The Spiritual Life of Children:

Sometimes, as I sit and watch a child struggle to draw a picture of God — to do just the right job of representing God’s face, his features, the shape of his head, the cast of his countenance — I think back to my days of working in Dorothy Day’s Catholic Worker soup kitchen. One afternoon, after several of us had struggled with a “wino,” an angry, cursing, truculent man of fifty or so, with long gray hair, a full, scraggly beard, a huge scar on his right cheek, a mouth with virtually no teeth, and bloodshot eyes, one of which had a terrible tic, Dorothy told us, “For all we know he might be God himself come here to test us, so let us treat him as an honored guest and look at his face as if it is the most beautiful one we can imagine.”

Meeting needs and serving others and restoring dignity to God’s children is like heaven. It really is the Kingdom of God. It’s God’s will being done in Amarillo just as it is in heaven. And jumping in to join our Father in this kind of work is so very rewarding. Of course, the good feelings we recieve and the satisfaction of partnering with God is just a foretaste. Our Lord promises those who feed the hungry and thirsty, clothe the cold, shelter the homeless, care for the sick, and visit the prisoners actually participate in feeding, clothing, sheltering, caring for, and visiting Jesus himself. We inherit the “Kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.” But we also get a glimpse of God. God reveals himself to us on Thursday mornings.

Today I saw the face of God in David, sitting there in his wheelchair, singing with Amber a song he didn’t even know. I saw the face of God in Willie’s gold tooth with the diamond “W.” I saw the face of God in Christy’s grief today. I saw the face of God in Louise’s gratitude. In Carla’s huge smile. In Doug’s enthusiasm. In the telling and re-telling of Debra’s healing and recovery.

I don’t see the face of God when I look in the mirror. Maybe I should. He definitely reveals it to me every Thursday. It’s unmistakable. And I praise him for that regular and glorious revelation.

Peace,

Allan

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