What Stuff?

On or near September 1, 2015 my daughter Angela’s birthday, she texted me and asked me what I thought about the days of God’s judgment and how did I feel about all the September 23 stuff.  My reply was, “What stuff?”

September 23 has something to do with the start of the days of atonement.  Angela said it was all over the news.  I refuse to watch much news.  It is always twisted and perverted in the eyes of those reporting it.  The 23^rd has something to do with the Pope coming and something the author of the book The Harbinger wrote.  I read the book and it was very entertaining.  I told my daughter that we had been in the “last days” since Jesus came, died, and ascended.

Last days have always been good for book sales because most Americans are afraid to lose their material possessions.  In my way of thinking, if people are worried about the end of time, to me is an expression of a lack of faith.  GOD IS STILL ON HIS THRONE!  Americans have not faced what Christians worldwide have already suffered.  According to God’s Word, it’s gonna get pretty bad before He raptures the church.

Second, if there is a genuine expectation of God’s coming judgment, we would be wise to share our faith with those who are lost.

I remember in the late 1970’s that the End of Time theme was everywhere.  People had identified the Antichrist, and all was doom and gloom.  I thought I would never pay off the loan on our house because the Lord was coming back any moment.  Well, we paid off the home and it burned to the ground a couple of years later.

During this period, my dad was lost.  Knowing the imminent return of Jesus was near I was burdened for dad.  I could not stand the thought of dad dying lost and we would be eternally separated, he to hell and me to heaven.

I talked with dad and for some reason he believed he was beyond the saving of Jesus.  I told him I knew God could save him, that I was praying for his salvation, and that the Holy Spirit would draw him to Jesus.

The Sunday morning that dad publicly confessed Jesus as Lord, brought tears of joy and shouts of hallelujah to Union Springs Baptist Church.  Dad’s conversion was, a cousin of mine said, a Saul to Paul Damascus Road conversion.

One week after dad’s salvation, doctors diagnosed him with inoperable brain tumors.  One tumor, the size of lemon was in the frontal lobe of the brain and a second the size of small pea at the base of the brain stem.  The prognosis was not good.

Doctors said the operation could leave him blind, paralyzed, and loss of memory.  The morning of his surgery, he asked me to pray for him.  This is before my call into the ministry.  I read from Psalm 55 and prayed.  All of Union Springs Baptist Church and many others were praying that this new convert could live and show the world that his salvation was real.  There were those who did not believe his salvation.

When the doctors talked to our family, they said they felt the presence of God guiding them as they operated.  They were able to get ninety percent of the large tumor and treated the rest and the smaller tumor with radiation.  Everyone waited in anticipation to see dad’s response.

Dad scared the recovery room nurses. Being cold, he got up to move his bed away from the air-conditioner vent.  Nurses thought he was going mad.  Nope, dad was just cold.

A few days later, I was hosting a cottage prayer meeting for revival at our home.  About thirty-five folks showed up.  To everyone’s surprise, dad entered the room.  I will never forget the way he looked.  He always wore a blue uniform from his job.  Tied around his head was the bandage from his surgery.  The hospital released him that afternoon and he came to prayer meeting.

Joy filled the room because of his presence.  We started to pray.  I sat on the hearth of our fireplace with our pastor and I began the prayer time with the pastor to close it.

I remember where dad was seated.  Closer and closer the prayer moved toward dad.  Faster and faster my heart beat.  Suddenly, dad started to pray.  I had never heard him pray.  He always called on my brothers, sister, or me to pray.  Remember he thought he could not be saved.  Dad was fifty-eight.  As dad prayed, tears of joy and the presence of the Holy Spirit filled the room.  For two years dad demonstrated what being a new creature in Christ is.

 

Want to change America?  God’s judgment is certain, Christ’s coming is imminent, and our mission is urgent.  Stop worrying and start praying and sharing God’s plan for salvation.

 

And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he have committed sins, they shall be forgiven him.  Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much (James 5:15-16 KJV).

 

Oh!  Many of you will be reading this on September 23^rd , which is seven years past when all the End Times Stuff did not happen.

My Way

Back in 2015 while traveling to a funeral of a friend’s mother in Mississippi, I used the navigation system on the automobile.  I looked up the address of the church and found directions to the church.  I knew the general location of the church but wanted to use the GPS to track time. 

What I realized was that the address was so rural that neither of my iPhone nor the navigational system could locate the address.  Knowing what directions I got from Google, I ventured into uncharted territory, but one of my passengers had to be sure and wanted to know the way.  She called John, our friend and son of the deceased to get specific directions.  His address was different from the ones I got from Google.

After the funeral, I entered my Linden address into the navigational system and I realized that we were in the middle of the nowhere, which was the parking lot of New Sardis Baptist Church between Mize and Mount Olive, Mississippi.

So many times, I have argued with the lady in the GPS and took my way.  Had I done that Saturday, I would have missed my destination.  I am afraid that many churches and members miss the destination that God has because we want to do things our way.

If there is one thing wrong, and there are many, with the church today it is trying to have church our way.  Since the beginning, doing things “my way” instead of God’s way has caused much pain and regret.  Think about the song “My Way” sung by Frank Sinatra.

 

And now the end is near
And so I face the final curtain
My friend I'll say it clear
I'll state my case of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and every highway
And more much more than this
I did it my way.

Regrets, I've had a few
But then again too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exception
I planned each chartered course
Each careful step alone the by way
And more much more than this
I did it my way.

Yes there were times I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I face it all and I stood tall
And did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill my share of loosing
And the now as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that and my I say
Not in a shy way
Oh no, oh no not me
I did it my way.

For what is a man what has he got
If not himself then he has not
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way.

 

Although Frank Sinatra made it popular and Elvis, along with numerous others, did his version, Paul Anka is the one who wrote “My Way.”  Anka got the song from Claude Francois and Jacques Revaux.  It is based on the French song “Comme d’habitube” composed in 1967.

The lyrics tell of an old man reflecting on his life as death approaches.  This old man is comfortable with his mortality and takes responsibility for how he lived with all the challenges of life while maintaining a respectable degree of integrity.

Anka rewrote the song specifically for Sinatra.

“My Way” is most frequently played at British funerals.  Mikhail Gorbachev of the Soviet Union joking referred to the Soviet policy of non-intervention in the internal affairs of other Warsaw Pact countries as the Sinatra Doctrine.

The song has been reported to cause numerous incidents of violence and homicides among drunkards in bars in the Philippines and named “My Way Killings.”

 

The song is a testimony to those who want to exclude God.  A deacon once told me in reference to a church problem, “I don’t care what the Church Constitution and By-laws say or what the Bible has to say.  This is the way we are going to handle the problem.”  Dangerous words, bad direction.

 

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord (Isaiah 55:8 KJV). 

Character Centered/Achievement Centered

 

Dr. Charles Colson writes in one of his books, The Body of Christ, that the Great Commission of Matthew 28:18-20 is an individual commission.  He goes on to write that the church needs to be more character centered than achievement centered.  To understand more about the Church, the body of Christ, the book is a good read and Colson is very prophetic in his wisdom concerning the church and secular influences on the church.

Colson as you may recall was the hatchet man for President Nixon and as result of the Watergate scandal was sentenced to prison.  In prison, he received Christ as his Savior.  Since his conversion and release, Colson has been a very prominent Southern Baptist leader for Christ as speaker and author.

The morning I read his comment or character verses achievement, I thought of a conversation I had with a pastor friend.  He and I would attend Southern Baptist rallies, national and state, and instead of being energized, he would get discouraged.  In his passion for evangelism, he became depressed because his church was not growing numerically.  That is achievement oriented.  This is how most Baptists, national, state, and local, judge success in our Convention, our states, and associations.

Keynote speakers at conventions are typically pastors who started with a few members and grew large churches.  The typical storyline was, “we started with 50 or less members in an open area and now we are running 500, 1000, or more.”

I would quiz my friend about these claims.  I asked, “Did you know that that church did start in a cotton field, but now there are subdivisions due to white flight and urban expansion?”  I would ask him how many people moved into his community within the last year.  He would reply that people had moved out.  I asked how expected his church to enlarge if the community was shrinking.

Another depressing concern for my friend was the inconsistence of his Sunday morning Sunday School and worship attendance.  Again, this was achievement oriented.  He continually complained that he would have a consistent attendance if he did not have so many members that worked on Sunday.  He told me on several occasions that they needed to quit their jobs if they had to work Sunday.

I would quiz him again.  I say quiz but it might have been me playing the devil's advocate.  I would ask him did he turn on the lights on Sundays.  He said yes and I said someone was working at the electric plant for him to have lights.

I asked if he drove a car to his church on Sunday.  He said yes and I said that many of the parts of that car were manufactured on Sunday and that the car may have been assembled on Sunday.

I knew he liked to eat out on Sundays, and I reminded him that those people were working Sunday.  I reminded him that I worked shift work for many years, which many of his members have, and had only one Sunday a month as an off day.  I worked shift work as a bi-vocational pastor.  I missed one Sunday morning, one Sunday night, and one Wednesday night every month.

My pastor friend preached for me when I missed these services.  I reminded him that most of the conveniences, luxuries, and necessities are produced on Sundays.  I told them that it was very costly and inefficient to start and stop a cement kiln so the operators could be off on Sundays.  It took several hours to shut down a kiln and several hours to restart.  That would make cement unaffordable.  That is true for most manufacturing.

When we focus on the achievement, we forget character.  The Great Commission challenges us to make disciples.  I asked my friend if his members that worked shift attended, taught, and tithed when they were at church.  His response was they do and even send their tithes and have a substitute teacher when they have to work on Sundays.  I asked him, “Well, what’s your problem?”  In reality, the members who were faithful in these areas were disciples by the character of their actions.  Besides this, they were witnesses where they were employed.  They were following the commission of Acts 1:8. They were witnesses at work.

But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth (Acts 1:8 KJV).

Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:  Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen Matthew 28:19-20 KJV).

Colson says, “The first priority of those communities (Churches) is to disciple men and women to maturity in Christ and then equip them to live their faith in every aspect of life and in every part of the world.”

Pivotal Moments

You and I measure time by events.  The writer of Ecclesiastes reminds us of that in Chapter three.  We have those pivotal moments that mark our living in births, deaths, holidays, special events, and tragedies.

Growing up daddy would say on the day you were born icicles were hanging off the house a foot long and we buried your momma’s Grandmoe Crumpton the day before you were born.

One of those pivotal moments came in October 1986.  Momma heard that I would be preaching at the Maplesville Baptist Church.

Mom had worked in the veneer mill in Maplesville thirty-five years earlier.  She wanted to go with me in hope of renewing some old acquaintances.  I hoped that she wanted to hear me preach, but she wanted to meet old friends.

It was rare for mom and dad did not get to hear me preach.  Both died within the first three years of my ministry.  I think the only sermon my dad heard me preach as a pastor was a Father’s Day message at my first church.  Mom heard a few more, but not many.

The trip to Maplesville was fun.  I spent time with mom.  She met a few old friends and for mom, she heard me for the last time.  In my ministry, my sermon has been the last message people heard before they died.  That is an awesome responsibility when standing behind the Sacred Desk.  My preaching what may be the last word from God a person hears.

The following week, I went to see momma on Saturday morning.  She was standing at the place she stood most, behind the kitchen sink washing dishes.  She was looking out the window as I sneaked up behind her.  Momma did a lot of humming and singing while doing dishes and this morning was no different.

I grabbed her from behind, gave her a big bear hug, lifted her from her feet, and turned round and round with her.  When I put her down, she said, “You broke my rib.”  I said, “Momma I did not squeeze you hard enough to break a rib.”

Momma worked hard her whole life and she and dad never had many worldly possessions.  For several years, mom suffered severe pain, but the doctors could never find anything that may have caused the pain.  Mom hurt so bad that she would spend a couple hours after work resting at my sister’s house before taking the thirty-minute drive home.  My sister lived a couple miles from where momma worked.

So, when I hurt mom, I just added to the pain.  After two or three days following my big squeeze, mom went to the doctor.  When Dr. Funderburk, family friend and former parishioner of mine, read the x-ray, he sent mom to a specialist.

A few years earlier mom had a stroke but recovered.  She rehabbed herself.  Later the doctors diagnosed melanoma cancer on her back.  She had successful surgery.  But the pain continued.

I shall never forget the moment when the doctor told me, I was with her when she had surgery following the hug that broke the rib.  The surgeon said, “Your mom is eaten up with cancer.”  He said the rib was not broken, but I collapsed her rib cage on the left, the good one, with the hug.  The other side is completely eaten away.  That was the good news.  The bad news was that cancer riddled her body.  The surgeon said, “Your mom has six months to a year to live.”  That was around Halloween.

Mom had a bad spell around Thanksgiving.  The doctor said, “Your mom has three to six months to live.” Mom was in the hospital at Christmas.  It would our last Christmas with her.  The doctors said, “Your mom has days to live.”

My sister, brothers, and I spent time with mom.  My sister was marvelous staying the week, while my brothers and I did weekends.  On one of my watches, mom was struggling, always the fighter.  Seeing she needed some encouragement, I said, “Come on old woman, get up, and fix me some biscuits.”  I was not ugly or disrespectful, that was the way mom and I picked on each other.  She loved to fix me biscuits and I loved aggravating her. She tried to get off the bed using her good arm; cancer destroyed her right arm, esophagus, number four disk, thigh, and neck among other parts of her diseased body.  After a gallant effort, she fell back in the bed, looked me dead in the eyes, and asked me, “Am I going to make it?  Don’t lie to me.  I know when you lie.  I can see it in your eyes.”

Mom was obvious to how short her time was.  I told what the doctors told me.  I said, “You have days.”  She said, “I thought so.”

She said, “God has blessed me.  He gave me what I wanted.  Christian kids.  I have a preacher, two deacons, and a Sunday School teacher. I never wanted to be rich, famous, or have a lot of stuff.  All I ever wanted in life was Christian children.  God gave them to me.”

Pivotal events came at Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the start of a New Year.  Twenty-seven days into the New Year momma died.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2a KJV)

 

In the Mirror We Stare

 My, my time has quickly passed

Just yesterday, you came unexpectedly fast

The moment I saw you, you became my special angel

There were so many plans God had for you I could tell

Watching you grow has been frightful, yet wonderful journey

From daddy’s little girl, to worried teenager, to mother of three

 

Many special moments flood my memory

You with lifted arms saying, “Hold you me”  

 

You in the ring swing from the oak tree in the backyard

Saying, “Higher daddy, push me high and hard”

 

You riding down the sidewalk making the Bigwheel tire flat

To learning to drive the car, just like that

 

The many volleyball practices that we spent together

Sharing doubts, hopes, and dreams to make things better

 

The places, sights, and things that we have shared

From a multitude of the world’s problems God has spared

 

The journey to this day, your 45^th birthday, has had it bumps

It is good that God forgives and throws all our wrongs in the dump

 

I have, and always will, love “my special angel” sent from above

Just remember there is nothing greater than a Father’s love

 

It seems as yesterday that you were little with monsters in her hair

Daddy trying to get them out in tender care as in the mirror we stare

 

At that moment not realizing all the things that God would allow

Having faith that the Lord up would honor our prayers as we bow

 

When troubles and sorrows toss you and you think you will drown

Your old dad will be praying that the Lord put you back on solid ground

 

Happy Birthday Angel

Love Dad