It's not remedial!

My assistant Patti stepped into my office and showed me a Welcome Card from a recent weekend. The couple who had filled out the card wanted to "re-join" our church and were asking what to do. "Have them take the membership class again," I said. I could almost hear the questions as I said the words. "Why? They were members here before! We know about their spiritual journey and they know our church; why should they be forced to take a three-hour class?"

 

For full disclosure, the couple isn't young in their faith. He is seminary-trained, has pastored and has led a Christian non-profit in the past. They moved away some years back, but have decided to return to Yuma to be near their family. In addition, they have been our friends for about a quarter century. Why, then, would I require them to take our membership class?

 

1. Our church has changed. Though our messages are the same, our methods aren't. Over the years, we have stopped doing some things and started others. Our values are simpler and more direct. We have a process that is simple. We are larger than they remember, but less complex. We are fierce in guarding that simplicity! When a church does this, it changes the conversation! We spend most of our time talking about the important things and intentionally neglecting the things that don't matter.

 

2. They have changed. Hearing about their recent years will help us know where they will fit, should they decide to join. They bring incredible gifting and rich backgrounds, but we don't expect them to fit in just anywhere. We and they will want to find a ministry fit that will enrich them and be a great encouragement to those already in that ministry.

 

3. They will get to meet others who are connecting with our church. One of my great joys is watching people walk in to our membership class as strangers and walk out with new friends. These days we have people coming from about every kind of background, both religious and non-religious. People like this couple gain a huge insight as they hear some of the stories of others in their class.

 

Throwing a "One Way" sign in front of people whom I love isn't my favorite thing to do, especially if they reject it. However, it's the best way I have found to keep us all moving in the same direction.

 

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How Comfortable Must We Be?

The message she had heard changed her life. Like the hungry thousands who streamed from their villages to hear Jesus before He multiplied loaves and fishes for their dinner, she gave little thought to her physical comfort. Week after week she made her way from her tiny dwelling to the church where the message was being spoken. Her trip was unusual, to say the least: she had to cross an irrigation canal and the nearest bridge was a great distance away. She found it easier to wear old clothes, carry her church dress over her head and wade through the water...often up to her neck.

 

The church where the life-changing message was doing its work wasn't any more comfortable than her arduous journey. The group of dedicated, lively Jesus-followers met under a tree. In fact, Iglesia Bautista Fe Y Esperanza (Church of Faith and Hope) needed the shade of several trees to accommodate their growing tribe. Most of us have heard about climates where meeting outside can be tolerable -- even pleasant -- virtually every day of the year. This was not the case for "Church Under The Tree" (the name we still call it). They met under a tree in the Mexicali Valley, a place where 114 degrees is normal in the summer, 118 happens frequently and 122 was recorded a few years ago. The blazing summer heat didn't keep them from meeting and God kept changing lives with the Gospel.

 

I recently attended the dedication service in which Church of Faith and Hope became a full-fledged church. They now have a building; they even have air conditioning (whew!). However, it was their time under the tree that gave birth to a question which every church should ask: "How comfortable must we be?"

 

The easy way to approach that question came in the form of another query which I received from an attender of our church: "Why can't WE just meet under a tree rather than have to build expensive buildings?" On the surface it seemed so simple: Church of Faith and Hope was meeting under their trees at that time and their location is only about 15 miles (as the crow flies) from our church. "One problem," I answered, "is that Americans used to air conditioning are far less likely to attend church under a tree when everything else (houses, cars, offices) has AC. That's not the case in Mexico; many of the people have little to help them stay cool on the hot days."

 

The question of comfort, though, is relevant to every church everywhere. The moment a church becomes more concerned about their own comfort than about the needs of the people outside their walls, that church is dying. Local churches are always one generation away from extinction. I know about a church which has sent the clear message, "Don't ask us to change anything because we like the way we are and we don't have to change." In other words, "We're comfortable and we shouldn't have to face discomfort." It's no wonder that some within that church resist any attempt to reach the neighborhoods around their church building. After all, the people outside their walls are "different" and might want to change things if they come inside.

 

Every time I hear an anecdote about a newcomer sitting in the seat that a longtime attender invisibly claimed as their own, I shudder. How comfortable must we be? Isn't it time to forsake our own comfort to build relationships with those who most need to hear the best news in the world? If we do, we may be surprised at just how uncomfortable they might become in order to gather with our church!

 

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Running or Rusted?

The old Jeep has sat there since I was a little boy. It has occupied the same fixed position on my grandparents' homestead ranch for decades. What once was a lively, powerful mode of transportation has degenerated into a decaying pile of rust. As kids, we played on it, pretending to drive on imaginary adventures. In that sense, it has fulfilled a purpose...but not the purpose it was designed for. You see, that old Jeep was once new. In a factory somewhere, people were putting the parts together with the knowledge that it would roll out the door and into the world of challenging hills and valleys. It was designed to meet those challenges and it did...until it didn't anymore.

The sad truth is that I have known many Christ-followers who ended their lives like that Jeep. Designed and built by the Master Designer/Craftsman, they started out with great hope to meet the hills and valleys of life. Something happened, though, and they ran out of spiritual fuel. With their engine no longer running and their gears no longer shifting, they stopped, doomed to rust in place. What a tragedy!

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Rotten tomatoes are fun...

…if you're the one throwing them!

The following is a non-political announcement.  "I have compassion for Newt.  And Barack.  And Mitt."

You see, I have thought more than once about what it would be like to make speeches every day, knowing that someone out there is ready to criticize everything you say.  They will especially love to hurl rotten tomatoes if you open your mouth and make a huge gaff...

…just like I did last Sunday.  10:45 service.  Last sermon of the weekend.  Spontaneous remark.  I. BLEW. IT!!!

I was talking about Demas, the New Testament deserter.  (Look him up.)  For some strange reason, I decided to bring in a bit of American history and talk about another famous deserter from the Revolutionary War.  I snatched his name from my memory and blurted it out: "Nathan Hale!"  The moment the words left my lips, I thought I saw one friend do a double-take.  I quickly did a memory rewind and knew it sounded wrong.  But I was fully in the next paragraph and chose not to pause for a quick audience reaction.  (Our church is filled with people who love it when I let them point out my mistakes.)

I hope you are a compassionate reader.  To all the descendants of the indelible Mr. Hale (and all you citizens of Connecticut, where he is the official State Hero), I am humbled by his heroic quote before being hanged by the British: "I only regret that I have but one life to give to my country." To the rest of you, I say, "Please don't pull a Benedict Arnold on me…

…My skin is allergic to tomatoes!"

Rice and Beans

Rice pudding. Fried rice. Rice balls. Spanish rice. Rice milk. Rice meal.

Cathy awoke Monday with her mind on ways she can cook rice next week. Most likely she is turning her creativity to beans next. No doubt people the world over find great ways to cook those two staples. Why? Because it's all they have! I read recently that the world's poorest 1.1 billion people live on less than $1.00 a day. 700,000,000 of them live in Asia and spend up to 40% of their daily income on rice, the majority of their caloric intake. You and I would spend a dollar on a candy bar without even blinking.

It's time we shocked ourselves into reality. For that reason, Stone Ridge Church is going on a 3-day diet the Monday-Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Rice and beans! We will distribute your food to you at worship services this weekend. The culmination of this restricted diet will be what we are calling our 1:17 Offering. 1:17? What's that? I'm glad you asked!

Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows. Isaiah 1:17 (NLT)

You and I may want to do good, but it often takes more than wanting; it takes learning. Subsisting on rice and beans can help us learn. Then we can do more. We can help the oppressed. We can genuinely do something to care for orphans and widows. We can give. We can help those locally, regionally and internationally who are broken and hungry. 1:17! We will start receiving that offering on Thanksgiving weekend. Then we will give it ALL away to where the needs are.

You can choose to distance yourself from this reality or you can embrace it and ask God to speak to you. I hope to see you this weekend at Stone Ridge! It just might be your greatest adventure yet!

It's So Uncomfortable!

Two recent incidents are on my mind today. Both have served to impress an uncomfortable truth into my heart. The truth: we have developed the idea that part of our American heritage is the elimination of anything uncomfortable. If it's too hot, turn on the air conditioning; if it's too cold, turn up the heater. We live in a climate-controlled, acoustically stimulating, smell-good environment.

Let me tell you first about the incidents, then I'll get to the lesson I think God is trying to teach me. The first occurred almost two weeks ago. It was a typical early September Thursday. I was about to leave our office to work on a project in the quietness and high-speed internet of my home. Suddenly, the lights flickered and the power went out. The office was dark and quiet without the hum of the A/C in the background. Early September is HOT in Yuma and it was the hottest time of the day. We waited, expecting it to kick back on in a few minutes. We waited some more. I went home still waiting. Updates sent to my smartphone told me that this major outage started very near my house but had taken in everything all the way to San Diego and up the coast into Orange County. It might not be restored until the next day!

At home, using battery-powered lights, I watched a battery-powered thermometer record the gradual rise of the temperature in my living room. Fortunately, my house was cool when the power went off and I am blessed to live in a place that is very well insulated. I read, drank water and pondered the uncomfortable air as minutes turned to hours. I began to think about how tiny this problem was in the big scheme of things. My friends in the Dominican Republic suffer through blackouts like these almost every day. I have Haitian friends who almost never have tasted many of the comforts I enjoy every day without gratitude.

I admit that I am normally prone to nervous fretting during times like that evening, but for some reason I was able to give this one to God. It was near bedtime and I said to Cathy, "I'm tired; I think I will just go to bed and get back up when the power comes back on. Then I can reset everything." Right after that, a light flickered and our comfortable world was back.

The second incident was this past weekend. Cathy was away on a women's retreat with ladies from church. She called Saturday morning to give me an update. "How are you?" I asked.

"It's funny," she replied, "Everyone is asking me that this morning." Then she explained why. The dormitory she and some friends were assigned was infested with bedbugs. Cathy got the worst of them, ended up with hives from neck to feet and had a bad reaction to the antihistamine she took.

As we talked, we both pondered our insulation from so many nuisances that the rest of the world takes for granted. We admitted how easy it was to develop the attitude that we live above ever being uncomfortable. We also thanked God that it happened to her and not someone else. My wife is pretty mature in her walk with Christ. She endured this and saw it as what it was: interference that didn't have to tarnish the joy of God working the hearts of many women. By the way, they changed rooms, their clothing and bedding were washed by some wonderful ladies in the group, and they all returned home safely with anti-bedbug measures in place.

What about the lesson I'm learning? You have probably guessed it. If not, here it is: I have no right to live in comfort all the time! Paul, the Apostle who endured beatings, imprisonments and shipwrecks, put it thus way: Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. Philippians 4:11 (NASB)

Honestly, I haven't learned this lesson yet and I want to learn it. I don't look forward to the methods God may use to teach me, but I sure want to learn it!

How about you?



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Tears and Hope

I awoke to a full schedule in my calendar.  The night before, I had arrived in Phoenix hoping to get some rest.  I was preparing for an important meeting and a critical hospital visit.  I felt fortunate that our designated hotel happened to be right next door to St. Joseph's Hospital and Barrows Neurological Center.  Two days earlier a young man from our church had suffered a very serious accident on a mountain bike and I wanted to pray with him as soon as he was out of surgery.

Hoping to clear my brain and jumpstart my cardiovascular system, I stepped out of the hotel and down the street into the fashionable Encanto district for a brisk walk.  Rush hour was still almost two hours away.  Enjoying the cool September morning, the sound of birds and the view of the old, restored houses I strode along block after block.

Feeling refreshed, I stepped back through the front doors into the hotel lobby, surprised at the number of people gathered around the televisions near the breakfast area.  I looked over to see what they were staring at and saw the smoke pluming out of one of the World Trade Center towers.  "It would be horrible to be in there right now," I thought, not knowing what was happening.  I watched, heard the commentators on the TVs and the exclamations of concern around me.  By now, I needed to get back to my room to prepare for my morning meeting.  I went upstairs and turned on the television to hear the latest as I cleaned up.

I received a call from one of our daughters on my cell phone.  Now, things were beginning to rush out of control.  A plane was filmed flying into the second tower and we knew we were under attack.  How far did it extend?  Was every large city in danger?  Then, one at a time, the towers collapsed.

I made the hospital visit and attended the meeting that day, little understanding that 9/11/01 was the day that changed everything for this nation.  I was due to fly to Chicago the next morning; obviously the trip was cancelled.  Instead, I drove back to Yuma that afternoon, experiencing both tears and hope.

The hope came from a radio report where I heard members of congress; women and men, black and white and hispanic, often foes across the congressional aisle.  They shared a statement and together sang, "God Bless America."  I am crying as I remember it.  Another source of hope came from local reports in Phoenix, telling of long lines at blood banks with people wanting to do anything -- including giving their own lifeblood -- to help.

The tears were as I walked into the door of our home and took Cathy in my arms.  We were under attack, but that day...that day we and our family were safe.

Our hearts go out to every family touched by 9/11.  To the many Marines, Navy, Army, Air Force as well as the many law enforcement, firefighters and DHS personnel who are part of us, thank you!  We can't say it enough.