The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

AllanStanglin.com

Page 358 of 493

Mind the Gap

September 6, 2011 / / 5 Comments

During our 26 hours in London last summer on our return home from Kharkov, Ukraine, Carrie-Anne and I became quite comfortable riding the underground trains. Everything was clearly labeled, simple to find, not that big of a deal at all. I found myself especially intrigued by the “Mind the Gap” signs that were everywhere: in the stations, at the ticket counters, along the turnstiles, in the que, and even on the trains themselves. “Mind the Gap.” The friendly female voice on the recorded information messages reminded us at every stop to “mind the gap.”

See, there’s a gap between the train platform and the train itself. It’s no more than three or four inches across. It’s nothing really. I don’t think I ever would have noticed if it hadn’t been pointed out to me. Sometimes there’s a two or three inch difference in height, too, where the platform and the train come together. And, apparently, people were tripping on the gap and hurting themselves. So, a public service announcement program was born.

“Mind the Gap.” T-shirts. Billboards. Signs. Coffee mugs and computer mouse pads. “Mind the Gap.” Pay attention to the gap. Don’t forget the gap. Watch out for the gap. Don’t trip up on the gap.

There’s a gap between what we’re attempting to do in corporate worship each Sunday morning and what we’re actually doing. There’s a serious difference between who we are and who God is. When we gather to worship, there’s a canyon of contrast, a black hole of incongruity when it comes to what we think we’re doing and what’s actually taking place.

For a couple of weeks now, Kevin (Central’s amazing worship minister) and I have been planning my first Sunday. We’re less than two weeks away. We’re planning the songs. We’re planning the Scripture readings. We’re planning the prayers. The order. The communion service. The elders’ charge to me as the new preacher here. The appreciation we plan to show the search committee. We want it to be perfect. We want it to flow seamlessly. We want everything to work. We pray over it. We worry about it. We work it and re-work it together. Song and sermon and prayer and holy communion. God must be glorified and his children must be inspired. Song and prayer and sermon and communion. Do it again. We must take our people straight to his throne. We must pour ourselves out to our Father. Song and prayer, Word and table.

Even as we meticulously plan, I’m mindful of the gap.

What must our worship efforts look like to our holy God? Are they pitiful? Misguided? Sad? Shallow? Tragically funny? Do we miss the point entirely?

Annie Dillard wrote, “In two thousand years, we have not worked out the kinks. We positively glorify them. Week after week we witness the same miracle: that God is so mighty he can stifle his own laughter.”

I am always mindful of the gap. As I prepare sermons and dare to speak a Word from God to his people, I think about the gap. As I attempt to tie our table time directly to that Word each Sunday with a neatly composed prayer or a perfectly placed passage of Scripture, I remember the gap.

It’s there. I’m aware of it. But because of God’s matchless grace, I will not be tripped up by it. I won’t let it stop me from doing my best to please him and to encourage his people. Our Father smiles at our best and honest efforts, no matter how eternally foolish they may ultimately be. Mind the gap, yes. Be aware of it. But do not allow it to be a hurdle or a barrier between us and God. His patience is unlimited. His grace is beyond measure. His love for us is too great to adequately describe. And it renders the gap powerless against us.

Peace,

Allan

I Will Carry You

September 2, 2011 / / 4 Comments

“Even to your old age and gray hairs
I am he, I am he who will sustain you;
I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” ~Isaiah 46:4

God speaks through his prophet in Isaiah 46 about the foolishness of our idols. He shows his people the absurdity of putting our faith in idols. God’s people were worshiping Bel and Nebo, Babylonian and Canaanite gods, right alongside Yahweh. They were worshiping God, yes. But at the same time they were hedging their bets, covering their bases — political, cultural, agricultural — by including all the regional gods of the land, too.

Technically, it’s called syncretism. Practically, I’d call it materialism. Or consumerism. Or nationalism.

The picture painted in Isaiah 46 is graphic. God’s people are burdened by their idols, having to carry their idols, even as they’re marched off to captivity in Babylon for worshiping those idols. They’re being driven out of God’s Promised Land and they’re carrying their idols with them.

And God says, “Listen to me! I will carry you!”

You’re carrying these lifeless idols around, these idols that can’t save you or protect you. You’re carrying them. And you’re bent over and weakened by the weight. They make the idols and then are forced to carry them. And our Lord points out the insanity of that when he says, “I have made you and I will carry you!”

We’re all getting older. Our hair is going to turn gray. Or turn loose. Or both. The instability of the economy scares us. The tenuous nature of the world’s governments unnerves us. Wars threaten us. Healthcare seems to be increasingly lacking for us. Everything’s changing. Nothing much seems dependable. And Isaiah 46 shows us very clearly the utter foolishness and sin of trusting in politics and governments and technology and goods for our peace. In the midst of the change and the turmoil and the uncertainty that surrounds us and sometimes overwhelms us, our mighty God says:

“Remember this. Fix it in your mind. Take it to your heart. I am God. And there is no other. I am God. And there is none like me.” (46:8-9)

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

I’m still not real sure what “Howdy Week” is at Amarillo High. But Whitney and Valerie have been in costume for the past five days. It was 80s dress for Time Travel Tuesday. Suspenders and thick black glasses for NerdsDay. But today they’re sporting their dad’s old maroon and gold for Frat Friday. Eggleston will appreciate this picture of my two older daughters wearing Delta jerseys. Byrnes and Frost will make some immature comments about it that will betray their pathetic Sigma jealousies. When John-Tern sees it, he will laugh out loud.

But it just makes me proud.

Go Sandies.

Allan

Home in Amarillo

August 31, 2011 / / 1 Comment

It’s starting to feel like home. I’m starting to feel like we belong here. In the middle of our third full week at Central, I’m getting comfortable.

My autographed Ring of Honor Bob Lilly print is up on the wall in my study. The Staubach-Aikman football has found its place under glass in the center of my bookshelves. The Tex Schramm card, the Rangers nesting dolls, and Jerry Plemons’ praying hands from Israel are resting in their designated spots. It looks right.

I’ve learned to navigate the 19-different staircases that get me from the offices down to Sneed Hall without getting lost. When I get to the top or bottom of each landing, I still have to pause and look both ways to get my bearings. But I’m not getting lost anymore.

Vickie is comfortable enough with me to have reclaimed her seat around the tables in the Upper Room. She had to wake up early today, fight through the traffic on I-27, and beat me up the stairs. But she did it. Now I’m looking for a new chair. I’ve been told I can have any of them. Except one.

I can run down the streets now in my mind, in order, without even thinking about it: Soncy, Coulter, Bell, Western, etc., all the way to church and back. Steve and Judy have shown me every single Sonic in Amarillo. I’ve eaten at the Whataburger on Georgia Street.

I own and proudly wear an Amarillo High School Sandies T-shirt.

Valerie has a new pair of cowboy boots.

I’ve spent enough time now with my co-ministers to start feeling comfortable. The fact that Matt wears a hair band and Greg doesn’t wear socks seems normal to me now. I’ve gotten used to Tanner’s Tarheels hat and Mary’s love for the Red Sox. I enjoy the fact that I’m not the loudest member of this ministry team; Adam is by far the loudest human being I’ve ever been around. If I need to find Mark before 8:30 in the morning I call Calico County. If we start talking about sports, I know that Kevin will leave the room; if we start talking about anything else, I know that Kevin is likely to break out into song. And that seems right. When Bob speaks, everybody listens. And when I need help with my computer or my printer or the network or anything else that plugs into the wall, I scream for Hannah. And when all I needed to do was simply follow an on-screen prompt or replace an ink cartridge, she won’t tell anybody.

I may never get totally used to the smell when the winds are out of the southwest. I will probably never embrace all the Texas Tech stuff around here. And there’s no way I’ll ever possibly meet and keep straight all the people who are related to Mark & Gina Love. But Amarillo is beginning to feel like home.

The wonderful, generous, patient, kind people here are making it really easy.

Peace,

Allan

Weary of Holding It In

August 29, 2011 / / 6 Comments

“His Word is in my heart like a fire,
a fire shut up in my bones.
I am weary of holding it in;
indeed, I cannot” ~Jeremiah 20:9

Sunday was torture. The past two Sundays, in fact, have been impossibly difficult for me. For two Resurrection Days in a row I have found myself sitting near the front of the worship center, surrounded by my brothers and sisters in Christ — my church; my church family! — and listening to someone else preach the sermon.

Now, please don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t enjoy listening to Jerry Taylor, the esteemed ACU professor who’s preaching here at Central every Sunday between now and when I start on September 18. I love listening to Jerry Taylor. Jerry’s powerful, authoritative, smooooooooth delivery combined with his expert’s grasp of the Scriptures fueled by the energy of God’s Holy Spirit makes for just about the best preaching anybody could ever hope to hear. I could listen to Jerry for hours. For days.

It’s not at all like what John Bailey says about sitting through some sermons: If I’m going to listen to mediocre preaching, I’d rather be the one doing it.

That’s not it at all. It’s that this is my church and these are my brothers and sisters and I’m their preacher! I’m the preacher here. And I’m supposed to be preaching.

God has given me things to say. Our Father has opened my eyes and my heart to truths in his Holy Word that must be revealed, that must be proclaimed by me. God has brought me here, he has pushed me here, to speak his will and to proclaim his purpose. He’s led me here to comfort and console, to provoke and challenge and upset, to exhort and encourage from his all-sufficient Scriptures.

Construction workers dig holes. Linebackers make tackles. Texans say “y’all.” And preachers preach.

I was made to preach. Called to preach. Equipped and empowered to preach.

I was completely on board with the initial time line that had us moving to Amarillo on August 12, getting unpacked and settled in, registering the kids for school, getting my study set up, and getting to know people before I dove into the preaching. It sounded great. Time to refresh. Time to rejuvenate. Time to meditate and revive, to get my head right with God and his Word. Time to pray. Time to worship with my new church family. Just worship. Time to meet people, to get to know my staff, to form a few relationships before attempting to speak to them a word from our God. What a gracious gesture on behalf of Central’s shepherds. What a nice big-picture view of our partnership together. What a clear indication of their love for and appreciation for their new minister. Yes. Thank you. Wow. I really appreciate it. Yes, it’s been perfect. Honestly, it’s been great.

Until last Sunday. And again yesterday.

God, grant me patience. I’m weary of holding it in.

Peace,

Allan

Football Friday!

August 26, 2011 / / 3 Comments

It’s going to be a record 101-degrees in Amarillo today, but it feels like fall. Drum lines and cheerleaders and football players and victory chants do it for me every time. It’s high school football season. Zero week starts tonight at Bivins Stadium when the Amarillo High School Sandies take on Midland. Carrie-Anne and I just returned from the pep rally in the Sandies Gym. We sat next to the Freshmen section and right across from the Seniors. But we never once saw either one of our girls. (If they had seen us, I’m sure they would have made sure we didn’t see them.)

There’s something really cool about being a part of this Amarillo High School scene. It’s the sense of genuine community. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the history of the place. Amarillo High has been around since 1889. There’s a lot of tradition here. In fact, they do all they can to keep the traditions alive. They still use the old 1920s mascot and logos on a lot of their literature and publications. They still employ a quaint rally chant from the ’40s, “Blow, Sand, Blow!” at opportune times during football games. While discussing tonight’s tailgating activities in the parking lot after the pep rally, we met a couple of people who went to school at AHS, sent their kids to AHS, and now have grandchildren here on the football team and on the spirit squads. There’s a lot of that here. They value their history. They uphold their traditions. When you’re a member of the Amarillo High School community, you’re a part of something much bigger than yourself. You’re a part of something that’s been vital and important since before your grandparents were born and something that’ll be vital and important long after you’re gone.

There’s a really provocative and interesting blog post in here somewhere about traditions in God’s Church, about traditions within our Church of Christ heritage, about the value of those traditions and what they mean to a community of believers. There’s a lot to write today about being connected to the greatness of the past, those men and women of the faith on whose shoulders we’re standing today. There’s plenty to consider regarding what we’re doing today and how it will impact future generations of disciples of Jesus.

But you’ll have to think about it and discuss it yourself. You’ll have to draw your own conclusions today. C-A and I are going to lunch and then we’ve got to find a couple of Sandies T-shirts before kickoff.

Hoping your team wins tonight. Unless it’s Midland.

Allan

On The Church Directory

August 24, 2011 / / 3 Comments

We were sitting together that afternoon on a third-or-fourth-hand couch in my office behind the fellowship hall at the Marble Falls church. Jim Gardner had just announced he was leaving to begin preaching at the Woodward Park congregation in Fresno. I had just taken the preaching position at Legacy. And we both had just received copies of our new churches’ pictorial directories. We were flipping through the pages together, checking out the pictures of the good brothers and sisters to whom we would soon be ministering. Among the pages and rows of young families and widow ladies and old men and babies, Quincy’s picture jumped out at me.

Now look at Quincy. Look at him. That’s a face that has a story. There’s some pain there. Something happened. And the evidence is right there. This man deals with things most people never endure. He suffers.

My very first thought upon seeing Quincy’s picture — and I’ll never forget it — was to wonder in what ways I would be able to minister to this man. How am I going to serve him? How am I going to comfort and encourage him? How is God going to use me to help this guy?

As most readers of this space know, Quincy, of course, wound up ministering to me. He served me. He comforted me and encouraged me. He helped me more than I can possibly put into words.

Quincy’s faithful trust in God strengthened my own faith. His selfless, sacrificial attitude matured my own outlook on congregational life and the world. His prayers delivered me straight to God’s throne for healing and forgiveness, mercy and grace. His phone calls lifted me up and kept me going strong. Quincy’s love for me sustained me in many ways. When I needed a minister, when I needed a faithful friend, when I needed affirmation, Quincy was my guy.

Quincy and I would talk all the time about Legacy Morning Prayers. We lamented the lack of congregational participation. We prayed together that God would bring more people to our prayer time, that God would fill the prayer room with our brothers and sisters so we would all be changed to become more like Christ. Why won’t people come to pray? We couldn’t understand it.

And then at the end of May, it happened. Teenagers!  High school seniors and college freshmen. Young people from our church and young people from the NRH community. Fifteen-year-old, 17-year-old, 20-year-old boys and girls. Kids with faithful Christian parents and kids who are spiritually on their own. They started showing up this summer. Four and five and sometimes six or seven at a time. Teenagers! Praying with Quincy. Talking with Quincy. Being formed and shaped by God through Quincy. Being changed by Quincy’s prayers. Being matured by God’s Word through Quincy’s reading.

Quincy and I had prayed and prayed that the prayer room would be full. But we never once thought God would bring us teenagers!

Every morning this summer Quincy and the teenagers prayed together for an hour. He ministered to them. He helped them. He encouraged them. He loved them. I would show up to work in the mornings and listen at the prayer room door as I put my Diet Dr Peppers for the day in the staff refrigerator. Quincy ministering to a room full of teenagers. More than I could ever possibly ask or imagine. God’s always doing weird and wonderful things like that.

For the past four weeks I’ve been thumbing through and praying over the pictures in my new Central directory. Well, it’s not really new; it’s four-years-old. I might be praying for and studying the names of people who died a long time ago or who don’t even belong to Central anymore. But my experience with Quincy has forever changed the ways I look at these pictures and names.

I still wonder about the ways God is going to use me to minister to this man in a wheelchair or to that single mom with four kids. I still pray that God will bless this widow lady and that guy with cancer. But, mostly, I wonder how these people are going to minister to me. How is God going to use this person to encourage me? How is our faithful Father going to use that lady to mature me in my faith? What’s this man in this picture going to do that’s going to change my life and make me a better disciple of Christ?

There are people in these 48 pages of pictures who are going to have an eternal impact on me. Some more than others. Yes, a few of them are going to make me crazy. But many more will become my greatest friends. I know I’m here to help them. But I’m just as certain our God is going to use these people to help me. And that gives me great confidence.

Peace,

Allan

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2026 The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑