There is no right way to do a wrong thing.
I Found myself reviewing one of my journals and came across this quote. I’m not sure to whom it should be attributed, but it is still as true and meaningful as it was when I captured it ten years ago.
I also found this quote I recorded from Mid-Course Correction by Gordon MacDonald,
There are some awesome consequences whenever we make stupid attempts to help God out in fulfilling his promises
Sometimes God will use the emptiness of false hope to bring to light His true hope.
This is one of my “pastor” memories. A true story. Just the name and a location point changed. Seems appropriate to remember as so many seem to be in a season of “waiting”.
Years ago (Pleistocene era), when I was a budding youth pastor, working with Junior High students, I met Donny. Donny was a bright fun-loving twelve-year-old who was a bit small for his age, well liked by our staff and all the other students, and, quite lonely. He, and his mom, came some distance to our church so he wasn’t as connected as he wanted, but several staff made the commitment to get him to youth group despite the long drive. Donny’s parents parents were recently divorced and his mom was trying to make it with little money earned at a lower wage job. Her ex-husband, Donny’s dad, was an alcoholic who had driven the family into debt, continued to spend money profusely, failing in his support payments, and and promised the world to his son.
Like most kids his age, Donny didn’t understand everything going on. He missed his dad. He loved his mom. He just knew that if he could just spend time with his dad the world would be right. And if his mom would just trust his dad more they would get back together and happy times would come. But mostly, he missed his dad and wanted to spend time with him. And his dad promised that they would have some great times even as soon as whatever excuse he had for that week was gone. So Donny talked about his dad a lot, the things they would be doing, where they were going, how cool his dad was, and how happy his mom was going to be when they all got back together.
The Junior High winter camp was coming up and Donny was pretty pumped about it. He’d never been away with friends like that overnight – and in the mountains, with snow! We arranged financial help for him. One of the staff was going to pick him up so mom wouldn’t have to take time off her shift. We easily found a sleeping bag and warm jacket for him to borrow. Donny was really excited! He must have called one of the leaders three or four times a day with questions. I think every student and leader was almost as excited as Donny about Donny going to camp.
And then Donny called the night before and cancelled. His father had called. “I’m taking you fishing this weekend buddy! I’ve got spaces on the boat reserved. Pack a bag because we’ll hang out for a few days and have some fun. Just you and me buddy. Tell your mom to have you out waiting early tomorrow. Yep, we’re gonna have a great time.”
So Donny missed camp … and waited on the curb for his dad to come pick him up on Friday morning.
And he was waiting there until well after dark. A call. “Sorry buddy, I had something to do, but I’ll be there tomorrow. Promise”
Donny didn’t know about alcoholics; that some people don’t keep promises – don’t even remember that they made one. So he waited again on Saturday. All day. His mom said he had his little bag and proudly told anyone who walked by he was going fishing with his dad. He was so excited he didn’t even take time eat. Didn’t want to miss when his dad came. Another phone call late. “Sorry buddy…”.
So Donny waited the next day. Another call. “Tomorrow buddy. I’m taking a couple of extra days off for the holidays.”
Meanwhile, we had a great winter camp. Of course, everyone wanted to know where Donny was; but they were pleased that he was spending time with his dad. When I called on Wednesday to see how his weekend had gone Donny’s mom tearfully told me the story, along with the conclusion.
Monday, Donny waited again, but only until noon. Another call.
Tuesday, he didn’t even go outside.
Wednesday, I had the opportunity to talk with Donny about his disappointment and hurt; and introduce him to the One who’s promises are always kept, who always comes through – even if you have to wait for a while.
Anne Jackson had an insightful post a while back about friendships that change when the circumstances of our lives change. As is usually true with a Flowerdust.net post, the comments following bring real-life depth and insight to the discussion. Anne’s honesty is always refreshing even if us older pastor-ministry folks don’t always feel comfortable with it. (I have a daughter like that too. And a couple of other young friends).
As someone in the midst of an ongoing significant change of circumstances, it has been interesting to see how friendships are affected, how I am affected by that. I wonder how much harder it will be if we ultimately move out of the community, not just out of the church.
But I do know that every friend is a valuable gift for however long God allows.
This morning I tweeted. No surprise there.
Preparing for a solo morning in downtown Glasgow … freezing fog, grey, dreary. Will look for signs of God’s presence in a dreary day.
I had just completed my daily Bible reading and journaling and was heading off to downtown Glasgow. Linda chose to remain in the warmth of our room at the guest house so I was heading out into a deeply dreary morning, the fog was quite dense, and everyone walking by outside was bundled up like Eskimos (or Glaswegians, which of course, they are). Anyway, I was hoping to be observant enough to find something of God’s joyous presence in the midst of the grey (have I mentioned how much I really dislike grey – especially in February?).
A short walk brought me to Kelvinbridge station for the underground. A handful of people were waiting to board, none looking at anyone else or talking. The only noise was the building rush of air announcing the soon arrival of the still unseen train. Ah, a metaphor for the movement of God’s Spirit! Maybe we won’t see what God is doing all the time, but … OK. I found something of a sign of God.
At Buchanan Street Station, I joined the majority of people in disembarking. Having shared a few moments together on a train, we now went our various ways, some moving with purpose to their employment, some excited about shopping, and some, like me, with no real agenda. Directly behind me was a church with a sign announcing a 30 minute service on Wednesdays for workers on their lunch break. The doors were open, and inside this rather bland looking building was a light, airy, welcoming interior. Three volunteers welcomed me warmly and allowed me to look around. The small book shop was filled with solid volumes of theology and excellent commentaries. Their vision was to be a light house to the lost of the city. I almost wanted to return a few hours later to experience their 30 minute service. All in all, it seemed that they were a light in the grey.
I finally found my way to Princes Place, a unique shopping center inside a very old looking building. For those from Seattle, its similar to Pacific Place only a bit smaller, in a much older facade. Walking to the top floor I noticed a young girl, maybe five or six years old. She was sitting with her brother on open floor which serves as a performance platform for seasonal events and concerts. As I watched she shoo’d her brother off to her mother seated at a nearby cafe and immediately she took a ballet pose, taking care to put her arms in special places, and moved her feet around a couple times. Then she began to dance. She lost the ballet form quickly, but it didn’t really matter. She ran across the floor moving her arms in the air. She twirled brilliantly, and often. There may have been a jump or two. The music was in her head and I’m sure she was keeping perfect time. And in her mind there must have been 
crowds watching rather than her distracted mother and a lone American three floors up. Finally, after dancing her heart out she stopped, took her ballet pose again for several seconds, then with all the humility of a child, she bowed with a flourish, pumped her arms in the air and ran to her mother saying something like “did you see me?” And I had another reminder of God (Jesus did say a few things about children and the kingdom of God). This little one just danced for the pleasure of dancing. It didn’t matter that no one watched, that it was dark outside, or cold, or that she didn’t do everything perfect. She just danced.
And as I walked outside, the sun burst out almost as brilliant as it had been dreary minutes before. I’d like to think that it was because a little girl danced without concern and brought joy to an man’s heart as he watched. God is often in the little things.
I’ve written before on some thoughts I had upon considering the church in Scotland. I’ve now been to Glasgow 4 times in five years and each time, I have noticed a large number of mostly very old church buildings in the area surrounding my daughter’s flat which is near the
University. I don’t get all the ins and outs of the Church of Scotland, nor many of the other churches I’ve come across, and I’ve been a bit lax in reading my Scottish church history. But I have found that many of these churches that once proclaimed the message Jesus have “gone out of business”. I’m told, in fact, that one of the “cool trends” in real estate and business is to find and purchase an empty church building and repurpose it into something "worthwhile”. This former church in the heart of the district has been re-“anointed” as a nightclub. I guess it gives new meaning to being filled with the spirits. Several others are now restaurants. I came across one that is now an office complex.
If I didn’t know about a growing movement of the Spirit of God in Scotland, it would probably be quite discouraging to consider this ongoing re-purposing of space formerly devoted to God. I wrote back in January 2007:
As I reflect on the state of affairs in Scotland, I wonder about the state of the church here in the U.S.A. Could we come to the same place 20 years from now? I’m not a prophet so I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure that the true Saints of Scotland past would be surprised by the lack of faith today, so I have to believe that it could happen here too.
What I can do is pray that the church where I serve today would remain faithful to Jesus and the Word of God well after I am gone. I can also seek to do what I can do to encourage the young leaders to “guard the good deposit entrusted” to them (2 Timothy 1:14).
On our jaunt to the Scottish Highlands this weekend we heard the story of a highland clan that had the ability to make their herd of sheep disappear whenever they were raided by other clans or the hated English. Apparently these disappearances were common enough and frustrating enough that they took on the feel of legend with the powers becoming magical and growing with each telling of the story.
But like most legends the reality was a bit less than magical. There is a valley hidden high in the crags that is accessible only by a narrow track that is also somewhat hidden from view. From below it appears to be just a saddle in the crags, but (I’m told since I did not actually hike it) there is a sizeable hidden valley with everything the flocks and herders might require. As our “guide” told us, they hid the flocks in plain sight for you can see the valley entrance, just not what is behind. the entrance, while not disguised, requires one to imagine what is beyond in order to actually be motivated to climb that high.
I wonder how often we miss some of God’s good things because they are hidden somewhere that doesn’t make sense to us.
Mrs. Random and I are warmly ensconced in room 8 of a guest house in Glasgow (being in Glasgow seems to bring out words like “e nsconced”). It is a nice lodging with a number of notable features including the fact that they located it just one-tenth of a mile from our daughter.
Amenities of said room include a walk up three flights of wonderfully creaky stairs covered in mid 1900’s carpet. Using a decidedly low-tech skeleton key one enters a large (by UK standards) guest room with a bay window sitting area looking out over the river Kelvin, the local skyline of hundreds of flats, several church spires, and the Pewter Pot Pub. The room
comes furnished with unique lighting by bulbs that are especially imported in order to give a jaundiced cast to all in the room when there is no daylight. I believe the mattress is imported as well – they are made with unique coils designed to make themselves individually felt over the course of the night (however, Mrs. Random seems not to have noticed this unique feature).
In one of the upgrades at the end of the last century, a television was mounted upon the wall – carefully placed so that it can be seen from both beds or the sitting area, it is also at head height so one cannot miss caressing its corner with one’s head on a regular basis. the TV unit has stylishly rounded corners so that these times of loving contact draw no blood.
This unit is one of 4 with ensuite bath. The unique, smaller-than-cruise ship size shower is equipped with instant hot water and low flow spray unit, and an amazing drain that is designed to keep run off from entering the city sewer lines too quickly. The same yellow lights make for adventure in makeup (not that I wear any of course).
Yet, we rejoice that God has allowed us funds and time to visit Glasgow, our daughter, and her friends. We have found that there are more important things than the best hotel rooms. Or even the most comfortable bed. Family & friends, connected by God, reflecting on his work in our lives, just loving on one another wherever we are, makes all the difference.
As I write this post I’m counting down the last four three hours before leaving for Glasgow, Scotland for a ten-day visit with the farthest flung member of the Jack family. I find it interesting how much it actually takes my wife and I to get ready to travel. For some reason it can become difficult to choose what, and how much, to take, and I always seem to put off until the last hours everything that I need to do to complete my preparations to be away. And like most trips I take, sometime tomorrow I’ll discover something I forgot.
Since one of the themes God seems to be teaching me this year is to “living in the moment,” I’m seeking on this trip to be more aware of where I am, who I’m with, and what is going on in me and around me, rather than thinking ahead to the next thing to be done; or being conflicted about choices I don’t have to make yet; or being distracted by what I’ve left behind. In a sense, I’m hoping to be more a follower of the Holy Spirit as he unfolds and reveals what God has for me on each day, in each moment, of the journey.
I know that on trips like this there will be moments with little to do or to see. Those may be moments where God would have me pray, or just be quiet, or maybe I just need to notice the markers of God’s grace around me. I tend to be one who sometimes forgets to smell the romantic fragrance of the roses. Sometimes I’m too busy, or waiting for something more worthy of my enjoyment, or I’m just dense, forgetting that roses are not always in bloom.
Stay with me here, I think this will make sense. Travel tends to throw me off sync. I get out of rhythm, my routine is disrupted – especially when moving across so many time zones; and into new cultural situations. At one level it mundane. My coffee may not be at the ready when I’m used to it, my sleep is off, there’s no USA Today, and TV shows are different. On another level, being out of sync reminds me anew of things and people I value. The small (and large) gifts and reminders of God’s grace that have become so much of routine that they are forgotten. To return to the roses metaphor, out of my routine, might just see new roses, I might actually stop and smell them and enjoy them, and thank God for their beauty and fragrance. And I might just be reminded of roses in my “normal” life that I have come to take for granted. Or maybe there’ll be no roses, and I’ll come to realize anew how wonderful are the gifts of God that have been given and be reminded to cherish and enjoy them while they are present.
These random thoughts come to mind as I’m packing for my relatively short trip and reflecting on devotional reading about the exodus journey of redemption on which God took Israel all in the light of a much greater journey I am presently taking in my life – one where I don’t know the destination, or much else. I’m trying by God’s grace to enjoy as fully as I can the gifts and markers of God’s grace. And when they are gone, or I am gone, maybe the memory of those gifts will sustain me in days when they are few. But I guess that means I better take time with the roses I can smell today.
I’m going through the daily devotional My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers once again.
Chambers in reflects on Paul’s statement, in 2 Timothy 4:6, that he is already being poured out as an offering, as a sacrifice. Chambers then encourages us to tell God we are ready to offered as a sacrifice for him. Sounds great, but then he goes on with hard-hitting application.
Then accept the consequences as they come, without any complaints, in spite of what God may send your way. God sends you through a crisis in private, where no other person can help you. From the outside your life may appear to be the same, but the difference is taking place in your will (Feb. 6 – My Utmost for His Highest).
OK, that’s the part I don’t like. I’m sure its just me but, when I give myself to be a living sacrifice the cost is not always what I’d like to pay. Somehow, I really don’t think the consequence should be so great. I mean, doesn’t God want to bless me?! But it seems like Chambers knows exactly what I might be thinking and continues with his development of the sacrifice metaphor with a calming reminder:
You must be willing to be placed on the altar and go through the fire; willing to experience what the altar represents–burning, purification, and separation for only one purpose–the elimination of every desire and affection not grounded in or directed toward God. But you don’t eliminate it, God does.
OK, God’s going to do all this in me. Yeah! But then Chambers adds, “…see to it that you don’t wallow in self-pity once the fire begins. Being a living sacrifice is really more than just nice sounding spiritual words. It is costly. But so worth it.
I spent an hour or so this morning with more than two dozen men of The Downtown Church. The elders of our almost one-year-old church had asked us to join them in a special meeting. Pastor Jayson Turner began the session by reading the record of prophetess Deborah and General Barak, in Judges chapters 4-5, emphasizing the sub-theme that Barak lost some of the glory from victory in battle than he might have had because he failed to lead courageously. He demonstrated a lack of trust in God, and depended upon Deborah to fill a role she was not called to. Scripture makes the clear implication that Barak failed in his role as a man, a leader, and this was not good (4:8-9; 5:24-27). Jay used this to springboard to a concern of the Elders – that the men of our fledgling church take on their biblical roles, not just in the church’s mission to be a redemptive force in the city, but also in our homes, with our wives and children.
In the discussion that followed (to which I just listened) several great thoughts were shared, but one strong thread resonated with me – that our wives, so very often, long to have us as husbands take the initiative in leading – especially in spiritual things. I wound up checking out of the discussion for a while as I reflected anew on the topic.
I’m sure there are books and articles and blog posts about the reasons why men wrestle with taking this initiative. I’m sure that there is often controversy about it. But I know that when I humbly, under the direction of the Holy Spirit, lovingly take the lead in asking my wife to pray with me, or to attend a seminar, or work on our issues, or solve a problem, she seems to be pleased and content.
Example. Linda and I have always prayed, Linda far more than I. We just haven’t always prayed together. We finally figured out that the best time for us was in bed each evening. In recent years I’ve tried to take point and initiate … sometimes just starting to pray, sometimes after we’ve discussed something, sometimes in response to a deep concern, but not waiting for her to say “can we pray?” all the time. She tells me that she appreciates that, and I can almost always feel her sigh contentedly as we begin. And it makes a difference in our marriage.
There are still lots of situations where I am more like Barak than I would like to admit. I think a lot of the men this morning might have feel that way as well … so, guys where do you need to take point more often? Why is it difficult to do so? Any advice? Ladies, what do you think? Am I on track? I wouldn’t mind a post with some comments – feel free to have at it. Of course there is more to marriage and relationships than this. And, yes, there have been all sorts of abuses of male leadership.
And here’s a couple of links you might find of interest:
Musings of a Random Nature 