A New Day

I grew up as the only white guy in my class at high school. Now there were only fifteen of us total and until my ninth grade year there was only one black girl. Janie got a "soul-mate" about that time when Regina moved in. Being the only white guy, I guess gave me a unique perspective in the turbulent 60's. I made friends with the black guys. It wasn't always easy. There were definite differences of perspective and culture between us. Sports, homework, field trips, and just the living of the days together brought some barriers down. Those common ventures of life, as Trueblood called them, like death, illness, marriage, births that all humans share also gave rise to better understanding. When you see a someone lose a big brother in Vietnam or see a guy you cheered in basketball come back from Nam without his legs, well, the color thing fades. I still consider Otis one of my true friends. I've been horrible about keeping in touch with him through the years. I deeply regret that and hope to correct this wrong in my life soon. Things were different from the time I was a little boy in Milford. Everything was separate. Toilets were segregated. Drinking fountains were separate. To a little kid in the late 50's the biggest difference I remember was at the doctor's office. The little clinic in Milford had a sidewalk that separated like a "Y" out in front of the building. The whites went to the left and "Negros," or "coloreds" as they were called then, ( I haven't heart those terms in decades) went to the waiting room on the right. Same doctor, same nurse Amy with the long needles, same X-ray machine, and same prescriptions handed out but white folks couldn't sit with the blacks in a waiting room. That all seems so silly, stupid and sinful now. How could we act that way? But we did and did much worse in fact. But today is a new day. Today the first black man elected president is being sworn in to the office of the presidency of the United States of America. We've long since left behind the prejudices of separate waiting rooms, toilets and drinking fountains. Politics aside, it's a great day for America on many levels for which we should be thankful. We should rejoice with the blacks as this signifies another mountaintop that has been too long in being reached. Grateful we must be for the safety our outgoing President has insured on our own shores. The transition of power in this nation takes place in such order and peace that is known a only a few nations. And in the climate of economic fear and the burden of war being shouldered, the hope that the new administration brings is refreshing. Tomorrow the real work begins. Today, rejoice for the privileges our nation affords us and the hope that new leadership brings. Tomorrow, President Obama's race will not matter. His strength, courage and wisdom will be tested and we can only hope that God will bless his presidency and our nation. The choices he makes and that we make with reference to God's blessing must be linked to God's will. Greed, arrogance, lust for power or selfish pleasure, and injustice will not preserve nor protect this nation. So pray for him as instructed in I Tim 2-1-3. Pray for our nation and pray for yourself that the righteousness that exalts a nation (Proverbs 14:34) will be found not just in the White House, but in your house and mine. Terry

About This Blogging Thing

You may not have noticed but I took about three weeks off from this blogging thing. I guess its time to get back with it. Actually, I'm somewhat old school about some things and prefer to call these offerings articles or essays. But we've gone from smoke signals, drums, letters, pigeons, telegraph, telephone, email and now blogs. Progress! Before you know it, we'll have a man on the moon. I heard a smart man speak regarding love and laughter,those magnetized twins (some times they attract, sometimes they repel), that if you have to explain either one then it's probably neither. That is true about many things so I shouldn't attempt to explain these articles. So I will. When I started at White Bluff I just started writing them. No explanation. They just showed up in your inbox one day. We don't send it via email anymore. You've got to want it enough to make a few clicks with the mouse and go get it. But why do them at all? What's the reason then? I can't answer that succinctly-hey I'm a preacher what did you expect? That actually is the key word-expect. I write in hopeful expectation. For what do I hope? I take my cue from Isaiah 61:1-3. (if this were a sermon this is where you read the passage-so look it up. Go ahead, the rest of the article will make more sense) This happens to be the passage Jesus cited when He began His ending phase of ministry that will change everything we know about heaven and earth, living and dying, God and Satan, and history itself. There are wonderful things in this passage and also some tough things. It's easy to want to proclaim God's favor, His grace, but in this passage are also words about God's vengeance. If one adopts this passage to guide you, you will find yourself up to your epistles in mourning and grieving people. This scripture deals with binding up broken hearts, comforting those who mourn, and crowning heads once heaped with the ashes of sorrow with tiaras of triumph. Beauty for ashes...nice trade don't you think? So I sit at a computer a few hours a week in hopeful expectation pecking out these little essays, articles, wonderments. I hope you find a bit of a rag in these words to help you dust off some ashes and see the glitter of a crown headed you way. Some days they may be funny, even if I didn't intend it that way. I hope most days they make you think. Occasionally, they may make you feel, deeply I hope. On rare days, I hope they make you mad. On all days I hope they help you hang on. I'll bring my thoughts, questions, experiences, and put them into these articles. I hope by voicing them maybe I can wander, stumble, walk, run or crawl toward Jesus.You bring your hopes and dreams, anger and hurts, questions and experiences, joy and victories. I'll write, you read, and if you and I meet Jesus somewhere in the middle of these essays, then it was time well wasted.

More Truth Than You Know

If you look closely you will be able to detect hints and whispers of the gospel's Christmas even in the classic shows that are broadcast on television. I doubt if it is done on purpose except possibly in the case of the Charlie Brown Christmas special. There seems to be a universal longing for the the good, better and best in people and situations that is sorely lacking. You see this lacking, this missing, this discontent, and the mournful in Christmas shows and cartoons. I know you aren't following me yet so consider the island of misfit toys from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the Christmas tree in Charlie Brown's special, the broken down old building and loan from It's a Wonderful Life, and the Grinch's heart in the Dr. Seuss re-telling of a Scrooge-type character. Now you're starting to see it. In every good Christmas story there is something wrong, broken, missing, abandoned or downright mean messing up an otherwise orderly life. Further, you could plug these stories into the gospel and end up in a good place or better, plug the gospel into these stories and end up in a better place. What if the Shepherds in the gospel of Luke were played by the toys from the island of misfit toys in Rudolph the RNR? The shepherds were regarded as misfits. So the Charlie-in-the-Box, Hermey the Misfit Elf (remember, he wanted to be a dentist), the spotted elephant, bird-fish(the bird who swam)and Cowboy(he had to ride an ostrich) could find their place in the gospel story. Which means, of course, that all of us who have misfit ways, different dreams, and move through life never at the pace the world thinks we should move, find our rhythm in worshipping Jesus. Following this leading, the broken down old building and loan from It's a Wonderful Life could play the stable and manger in our re-telling of the gospel. George Bailey struggled with that old business most of his life. It kept him from bigger dreams and traveling to exotic places. Yet, in the end it held the town together and helped many others find their home in a world run by the old men Potters who could have cared less. No doubt the owner of the stable thought little of his stable but God thought enough of it to make His entrance there. Most of us spend our days wondering if we really make any real difference. One day we will know and we will see not through a glass darkly but through the Light of the World shined on those old things we thought kept us from a wonderful life. Then we will see that it was those very things that God used to advance His kindom and agenda in ways we could never imagine. All good stories have an antagonist. In Matthew's gospel you meet King Herod, who, was not unlike the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. The Grinch had a heart that was two sizes too small. Many question if Herod had a heart at all. Much heartache was caused by Herod. He had his own two sons executed as he thought them wanting his throne. At his death he had two popular Jewish teachers and their students burned to death to insure there would be someone mourning at the time of his own death.Then there is the death of the innocents in Bethlehem. But history tells us that within 4 years of Jesus' birth, he was no more. So we don't celebrate "Herod-mas" and don't so much as name our dogs after him. Evil exists. Sometimes, like with the Grinch, it repents and changes. In Herod's case, his evil died with him. There is plenty of evil left in the world but we know from Herod, Hitler, Ahab, Pilate, Nero, Domitian, and any other despot that they die. One day we will add Osama bin Laden and Robert Mugabe to the list. Someone else will pick up where they left off. One day God will take evil off every one's list. Our Christmas list will be much easier then and our hearts will be big enough to fill it. Admittedly, finding a place for Charlie Brown's scraggly little bent-over tree has been harder to plug into the story of Christ's birth from the gospels. Misfits, Grinches, Building and Loans, yes. But where does the left over Christmas tree come in? Then I figured it out. That's me. That's where I plug into the story. God's not through decorating me yet. I won't stand still enough some time to let Him work. I keep dropping ornaments and breaking them. But God is relentless. He just doesn't stop working. And if you have been bent out of shape, lost your needles, felt like you didn't grow like everyone else, abandoned at the back of the lot, and in general felt unloved, then the Christmas story is what you most need to hear. To the misfits, in out-of-the-way places, in spite of Grinches, God shows up to love those needing it the most. And the last time I checked, that includes everyone. Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God... John 1:12 Merry Christmas 2008 Terry

A Christmas Without

It's not good to set out the nativity scene when you're mad at the preacher. All that stuff he wrote about no donkey, no wise men, no innkeeper or stable just ticked her off. She fairly slammed Melchior down beside the manger. "Well, MY nativity scene has wise men!" It was at that moment that the tears came and Fran just slumped down on the floor beside the hearth. After a few minutes she gathered her thoughts again and tried to figure out where that outburst came from. It probably wasn't just the pastor's article. It was everything else that happened that year. Her divorce was nine months past and her ex wasn't around last Christmas but it still hurt and still made her mad. Her dad's health had taken a downturn and he would spend this Christmas in the nursing home. Fran hated that prospect. The kids were grown with their own traditions for family to take care of and wouldn't be in until later on Christmas day. That magnified the loneliness of decorating a tree and trying to put out the Christmas cheer with no one to enjoy it. The thoughts that haunted her the most were about her oldest grandson who would spend this Christmas in Afghanistan. The fear and sadness were too much some days. Fran remembered to stop a moment and count her blessings. She had two days off work for Christmas and had two vacation days left so she could rest, cook, and enjoy the kids and grand kids when they finally would make it in. She had survived the latest round of layoffs at work and she was thankful for the job. Of course, everyone who remained was expected to pick up the extra work. If she could just hang on a few more years she would seriously considering retirement. That's another reason to be mad at the man she once called husband. No sooner had the anger begin to rise again when came the interruption of the doorbell. It was Jackson, next door neighbor's youngest child. She wiped her face, put on a semi-fake smile and opened the door. "Say Jack, wassup?" He giggled at the way she said that. " Not much, Fran. Mom wanted you to have these cookies and I wanted to ask you a question." "Fire away, Jackson." "Well, our kid's choir is singing at church tonight and I was wondering if you could come. I've got a song I sing by myself. Anyway, I hope you can come. It starts at 6. Bye." Judging by the loose wrapper on the plate and the chocolate on his face, Fran figured Jackson had tested one of the cookies on his way to her door. How do you tell a nine year old with chocolate chip cookie on his face "no?" So Fran guessed she would be at church tonight. The kids were cute. Jackson sang very well. But the most remarkable thing about that evening were the songs. They weren't really sung any better than most kid's choirs. She just needed to hear the simple truths of the Christmas carols again. It was going to be a Christmas without a husband; a grandson without his family in a faraway place; a father without his own home. In this year of brokenness, loneliness, anger, doubt, fear, and exhaustion the Christmas songs reminded her of why there was a Christmas in the first place. The world was broken, fearful, exhausted, and alone without God in their lives. So He came. Fran thought to herself that there were many things she was without this Christmas. She laughed at herself for getting mad at the preacher earlier. Maybe there was no donkey at the first Christmas, or no wise men or no innkeeper but the world was not without a Savior. He is Immanuel- God with us. Terry Quote wanted from Sunday's sermon(12-14-08)"Joy is dancing to a rhythm the world cannot hear but the heart faithful to Jesus cannot miss." author unknown

Gate Crashers I live in a gated community. I pastor a church in a gated community. I had trouble wrapping my mind around that concept before I came to pastor White Bluff Chapel. Churches don't hide behind gates was my reasoning. Churches are "out there," open to all, working along side the common man. How can a church function with New Testament conviction when you have to pass through a security guard to get in? The curtain in the temple was torn in two at Jesus' crucifixion to tear down racial, religious, gender, and class barriers to God and one another. It seems at first glance to go against the current of kingdom mission to live behind gates. The leadership of the church assured me that the gate was no barrier to church attendance or ministry performance and mission. I trusted them and believed. I have come to see the truth of their convictions over the past few months and see how diligent the Chapel works to see that much goes out that gate in terms of resources spent, effort exerted, food shared, and service rendered. But I still eyed warily that gate at the entrance, living at an uneasy peace with it. Then I discovered something else inside the gates: people. There are people here who need the Lord who have yet to come to know Him as Savior. There are people here who need to grow in their faith and service to Christ. There are people here with great hearts, talents, and resources who live to serve their Lord. With these kinds of people in White Bluff, what should be the response of the church at large and the local church in particular? The bottom line is we need to be in White Bluff sharing the gospel, growing in the grace, knowledge and service in the kingdom. And so we are. There is another observance about the gate at the entrance. This came as no surprise, however. We have way too many gate crashers at White Bluff. I don't blame the security personnel. I don't blame the management or the property owners association. I know of no way to keep out some of these unwanted visitors. They pay no attention to the gate or the rules. They show up uninvited, unwanted, and almost never leave when you ask. Who are these interlopers? They have different names. Some are called disease, illness, sickness. Some of these are short-timers, some move in to stay. I've seen cancer crash the gate. I've seen Alzheimer's run around the barriers. From colds to colostomies the family of unhealth pours through the gates and over the fences to bring their poisons to our families. It's not just illness, either that crashes our fences. Divorce finds its way past our defenses. Children and grandchildren's issues ring our doorbells. Lately, many people's finances fell more often that the putts on the golf courses. And as too many know, death comes over the covered bridge, past the retaining walls, tramps on pretty yards, and invades homes simple and extravagant. Life crashes our gates and you can't stop it. But fortunately it's not just the bad side that comes on in. Grace dances right past the guards. Hope floats on the lake, in the pools and into the homes. Forgiveness comes into the bedrooms and living rooms and love has yet to discover its boundaries. So it seems to me that since these gate crashers, both good and bad are here, its best to prepare for them. We do that by asking the Lord who brings down barriers but won't crash the heart, to please come in. Once asked, He gives strength to the weak, binds up the wounds of the broken hearted , grants freedom to those imprisoned by doubt and hurt, and helps us to share His goodness. There is another place with gates we do well to take note of. It is found in Revelation 21: 22-27. There is a difference in our gates now, but there won't be forever. Hear the promise of that city where on no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. Nothing impure will ever enter it...but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life. In the meantime we live a crash course in life but we need not live it alone. The Christ and His church are here, within our gates and without, which is right where we all live. And we who have been invaded in turn invade this life with His grace, love and joy. 'Till all the gates are open, Terry