Monday Morning Music Ministry

9-2-16

I have told this story before. Like a couple weeks ago, a reprint by request; I have gotten a lot of comments on this memory I share. It is about a holiday far away from my home… but very close to my heart. It happened on a Summer holiday years ago.

A number of years ago I was working on a book, a three-part biography of rock ‘n’ roll pioneer Jerry Lee Lewis; evangelist Jimmy Swaggart; and country-music superstar Mickey Gilley, all first cousins to each other. My good friend Maury Forman offered me his unused condo in Montgomery, Texas to get away for a bit of a personal research and writing one summer. Since Lewis lived in Mississippi, Swaggart in Louisiana, and Gilley in nearby Pasadena Texas, it made geographical sense.

Once settled, I took out the Yellow Pages (remember them?) to chart the location of Assembly of God churches, intent on visiting as many as I could through the summer. East Texas was in every way new to me, and I wanted to experience everything I could.

Well, the first one I visited was in Cut and Shoot, Texas. That’s a town’s name; you can look it up. A small, white frame AG church was my first stop that summer… and I never visited another. For one thing – coincidence? – I learned that a member of the tiny congregation was the widow of a man who had pastored the AG church in Ferriday, Louisiana, the small town FOUR HOURS AWAY where, and when, those three cousins grew up in its pews. She knew them all, and their families, and had great stories. Beyond that, the pastor of the church in Cut and Shoot, Charles Wigley, had gone to Bible College with Jerry Lee Lewis and played in a band with him, until Jerry Lee got kicked out. Some more great stories.

But there was more than that kept me there for that summer. In that white-frame church and that tiny congregation, it was, um, obvious in three minutes that I was not from East Texas. I was born in New York City. Yet I was treated like family as if the folks had known me three decades. A fellow named Dave Gilbert asked me if I’d like to go to his farm for the holiday where a bunch of people were just going to get together and “do some visitin’.”

I bought the biggest watermelon I could find as my contribution to the pot-luck. Well, there were dozens and dozens of folks. I couldn’t tell which was family and who were friends, because everybody acted like family. When folks from East Texas ask, “How are you?” they really mean it. There were several monstrous barrel BBQ smokers with chimneys, all slow-cooking beef brisket. (Every region brags about its barbecue traditions, but I’ll fight anyone who doesn’t admit low-heat, slow-smoked, no sauce, East-Texas BBQ the best) There was visitin,’ surely; there were delicious side dishes; there was softball and volleyball and kids dirt-biking; and breaks for sweet tea and spontaneous singing of patriotic songs.

I sat back in a folding chair, and I thought, “This is America.”

As the sun set, the same food came out again — smoked brisket galore; all the side dishes; and desserts of all sorts. Better than the first time. Then the Gilberts cleared the porch of their house. People brought instruments out of their cars and trucks. Folks tuned their guitars; some microphones and amps were set up; chairs and blankets dotted the lawn. Dave Gilbert and his brothers, I learned, sang gospel music semi-professionally in the area. Pastor Wigley, during the summer, had opened for Gold City Quartet at a local concert, playing gospel music on the saxophone. But everyone else sang, too.

In some churches, in some parts of America, you are just expected to sing solo every once in a while. You’re not expected to – you want to. So into the evening, as the sun went down and the moon came up over those farms and fields, everyone at that picnic sang, together or solo or in duets or quartets. Spontaneously, mostly. Far into the night, exuberantly with smiles, or heartfelt with tears, singing unto the Lord.

I sat back in the folding chair, and I thought, “This is Heaven.”

I have grown sad for people who have not experienced the type of worship where singers and people who pray do so spontaneously. From the congregation. Moving to the front. Sharing their hearts. Crying tears of joy or conviction. Loving the Lord, freely. If you have not… visit a church where this is commonplace; even witnessing it is an uplifting balm to the soul., where there is freedom and joy in singing spontaneously.

I attach a video that very closely captures the music, and the feeling – the fellowship – of that evening. A wooden ranch house, a barbecue picnic just ended, a campfire, and singers spontaneously worshiping, joining in, clapping, and “taking choruses.” There were cameras at this Gaither get-together, but it took this city boy back to that holiday weekend, finding himself amongst a brand-new family, the greatest barbecue I ever tasted before or since… and the sweetest songs I know.

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Click: The Sweetest Song I Know

8-26-19

Oh, yes; God plays games. Not to deceive us, of course. But He is a play-ful God, never think otherwise. Despite the moon-faced Jesus of some movies and Sunday-school calendars, I believe He smiled as much as He rebuked; He wept but He laughed. He was tender with His mother; He gathered children around Him; He welcomed crowds.

“Jesus loves me; this I know.” He doesn’t get there by being stern or vacant. When God created the earth, He paused and “saw that it was good.” Smile!

God has used – and still uses – uncountable ways to instruct us. He shares His will for our lives through inspiration of the Holy Spirit; by Biblical passages; via circumstances. Balaam’s ass, you know the story. Sometimes even people who themselves are… well, you know, unexpected sources. Hard lessons. “Coincidences,” that some of us recognize afterwards as “God-incidences.” Sermons. Books. Radio and TV preachers. Song lyrics.

When God doesn’t whisper, sometimes He shouts.

Thinking on these things, I wondered whether we can find Godly messages even in games. Games, that is, that we might re-purpose, to see His purpose.

Here are some suggestions:

Ready Or Not, Here I Come! Can you picture Jesus calling that out? In a very real way, that’s what He said as He emerged from the tomb on Easter Sunday. His mother, and the disciples, hoped for the Resurrection, and vaguely remembered His promise… yet they were surprised. Were they ready? Are we ready? Because the Resurrection was an event at which to marvel, but – “ready or not” – then there is the life-long obligation to remain joyful, and to follow His commands. Here He Comes!

Tag, You’re It! In that game, the rules are strict. As much as you might wiggle or hide or evade, when the leader tags you… you are it. You know that Jesus seeks you, and soon enough will “tag” you. You’re it!

Leapfrog. Do kids play this any more? And maybe it’s a stretch, but let’s compare the jumpers to the challenges in life we have to get over. Isn’t it funny (or not) how every time we overcome the challenge before us, something or someone jumps over us and gets in the way all over again. Gotta keep jumping, running the race, and leaping!

Truth or Dare. This is easy. Can you keep secrets from God? Can you avoid His call? Can you avert His gaze? He already knows the Truth about your situation better than you do… do you dare break the rules?

Rock, Paper, Scissors. Um… whatever configuration, no matter how many do-overs, God always wins. He made the rocks, paper, and scissors!

Simon Says. Another old-timer. In the new version, Simon is God, giving the requests. Or, Simon is Jesus, who showed us how to obey. Or Simon is the Holy Spirit, who will help us play.

And win.

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Click: Hide Thou Me

8-19-19

There are only a couple messages I reprise here during the year. I am not lazy – at least regarding words – but I think the ideas have resonated in my “mind.” So I share with myself, as much as with you.

One of them is about children going off to school, or to the military, or to get married. “Empty nest” is one of the gifts of language that provides a euphemism, or an allusion, from other corners of life. It explains, comforts, distracts, or puts things into perspective. Or reminds us of inevitability. Or futility in the face of our wishes and dreams.

When nests empty themselves there often is a certain innate satisfaction – almost an animal instinct – that evokes pride in fulfilling a role in the process of life. “There is a season; turn, turn…” We ourselves grew and flew; so too our children.

In Ecclesiastes 3, it is written, What happens to the sons of men also happens to animals; one thing befalls them: as one dies, so dies the other. Surely, they all have one breath; man has no advantage over animals, for all is vanity. All go to one place: All are from the dust, and all return to dust.

Words that imply that life is little more than a wheel in a gerbil cage? However, elsewhere in the book of wisdom is found: To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, And a time to die; A time to plant, And a time to pluck what is planted;

A time to kill, And a time to heal; A time to break down, And a time to build up; A time to weep, And a time to laugh; A time to mourn, And a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, And a time to gather stones; A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to gain, And a time to lose; A time to keep, And a time to throw away; A time to tear, And a time to sew; A time to keep silence, And a time to speak;

A time to love,
And a time to hate;
A time of war,
And a time of peace.

There will be some people who read these lines as fatalistic – the glass half-empty / half-full paradigm. (Which I have never understood. Half is half! Fill ‘er up, if you’re thirsty.) But most people, through uncountable eons and circumstances, have rather found comfort in these lines. Whether at grave sites or alone with one’s memories, or reminiscing with family. Remember that Ecclesiastes also tells us – reassures us – that “there is nothing new under the sun.” God sees; God knows; God understands; and we are part of His great plan, a wheel of life that turns.

I have written previously that parents share a feeling about children they rear and say farewell to, that the days drag, but the years fly. Odd. Common, universal; yet counter-intuitive.

It is also odd that the empty places, the holes in the fabric of life, the things you miss about children who leave – when you “let go” it is not the major events or footprints or habits or even the milestones that haunt your emotions. It is the smallest of aspects: funny words; unfinished projects; notes pinned to the wall; scribbles on a pad; bedroom furnishings that seemed so trivial; silly jokes; even arguments that once were hot and then subsumed by obscurity.

“Warp and woof.” Who uses that phrase any more? It is a tailor’s term for horizontal and vertical threads. Lives, like fabric, are comprised of countless threads, often nearly invisible.

And sometimes that fabric of life is rent. Ripped, that is; torn. In those cases – if a child leaves home in anger, and a natural cycle of life is broken – the nest is just as empty. The tears burn just as hot… yet of course it is different. I have a friend whose son only occasionally calls, despite living nearby. His studied indifference hurts as much as if a battle royal had occurred. Another friend has a daughter who is aggressively hostile when she is not merely distant. How cruel if a daughter resents her mother and sister showing up uninvited but unobtrusive, in the back row of the church, at the wedding. Someone else I know has been shut out of the child’s life for years, over a first-time-ever argument; and has not seen the grandchildren over that time. Child abuse or elder abuse?

The bonds between parents and children should not be subject to footnotes. You are tempted to think that it is as unnatural as in the animal kingdom… yet there are some animals who remain in pods through their generations.

We appreciate the difference between vacant nests and empty nests. But both should serve as a welcome-home mats too.

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Click: Letting Go

8-12-19

Conversation in the doctor’s waiting room. A woman next to me said, after reeling off her worries, “… but as the Bible says, God never gives us more than we can handle.”

Me: “You know, the Bible does not say that.”

“It doesn’t? I’m sure it does!”

Fortune cookies, yes. Greeting cards, yes. Even sermons, yes. But the Bible – prophets, poets, kings, disciples, Jesus? – no.

In fact, if we think about it, troubles and sickness and problems usually are attacks from the devil, or the results of our own folly… but not “sent” by God. He doesn’t “give” us more than we can handle. That is not how He works. He “gives” us hope. And strength. And faith. And wisdom. And, yes, deliverance.

But He does not visit us with bad things, even temptations. That’s in the devil’s job description, not God’s.

A proper understanding of this can change our lives. We should be free of the pagan superstition that God pushes us to the edge all the time. We are His children, and He is not a child abuser.

He did not tempt Jesus in the wilderness. That was Satan.

Let’s dig deeper into these ideas about challenges and God. I say He does not “give” junk to us. The world will ask, “If He is a loving God, then why doesn’t He prevent those problems?” A question that seems logical. He could have plucked Jesus from the cross. He could have put out the fire in the furnace before the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar ordered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to be tossed therein. The “valley of the shadow of death”? Why didn’t God promise simply to keep us away from the cursed valley?

Well, those actions are not in God’s job description.

He never promised us a trouble-free life. Some people never quite understand that! In fact, it is guaranteed that troubles will come our way… and the more Jesus there is in our hearts, the more the devil will attack. Stone cold, that. So what does God promise? Let us re-visit the three examples:
Jesus was on the cross to fulfill God’s plan, and to demonstrate His love for us. He would not interrupt that.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego did not avoid the fire, but were saved in the midst of the fire. Brought through. And manifested the “fourth man” who appeared with them, the pre-incarnate Jesus. Lesson delivered.

Walking though the valley of the shadow of death? God promises to be with us… not to slap us down a detour. We learn (or should learn) trust and faith, because He is with us in those times.

As Andrae Crouch wrote and sang, “I thank Him for the storms He brought me through, For if I’d never had a problem, I wouldn’t know God could solve them… I’d never know what faith in God could do.”

God always “gives” us exactly what we need.

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Click: Through It All

8-5-19

I am writing this in the first week of August, a time that once, and elsewhere, carries more significance than a new calendar page. In the 19th century, a lot of magazines published “Mid-Summer Numbers,” observing some sort of moment in the earth’s cycle, like taking a breath. In Europe – France especially – the entire month of August is devoted to vacations; trips far away from home. Some streets in Paris are virtually empty except for unlucky waiters and gendarmes.

For me, August reminds me of summers growing up outside New York City, in New Jersey. The Jersey Shore? Palisades Park? No, as an eternal foodie, my memories are of the best corn and the best tomatoes on earth. It is futile to seek such quality elsewhere, but these weeks beat Spring flowers and Fall harvests in many ways. De gustibus and all that…

It requires no stretch to see a spiritual aspect to the unique time between planting and harvest. We make plans, we live in hope, we anticipate; we pray. Planting seeds is a metaphor for being intentional about life, and commitments, our directions. Harvest? We anticipate the results of our work and plans. And prayers.

This week my son Ted, my daughter Emily, and I coincidentally went through separate but similar experiences, all related to the work we do. We praise God (always) for His leading, and His hand, the calling on our lives. But sometimes – without stopping to acknowledge God as the Master Farmer – it seems like we plant soybeans and we harvest alfalfa (or whatever those two plants look like; have mercy on this City boy; this is still a metaphor).

That growth period is just as important as Planting and Harvesting.

When Emily was very young, missionaries from Central America visited our little church and made a presentation about their work. Somehow their stories, their passion, affected her. As young as she was, she was overtaken with emotion and tears and… a conviction that she would serve in the missions field when she grew up. She eventually went to Bible College, joined missions trips to Mexico, Russia, and Ireland. And Ireland again. Her heart was joined there – in two ways; as she fell in love with Norman, attending a Bible college in Dublin, marrying, and being fruitful and multiplying. Still serving the Lod, of course.

Would all this have happened without that impactful visit of a missionary family decades ago? Maybe, or maybe not in the same way… but as a father I am awestruck at the growth (and nurture) of certain seeds that are planted in lives.

My friend Becky Spencer (writer, missionary, singer, songwriter) and her husband Tracy run a B+B and a Thrift Boutique in Kansas, to help finance their longtime work in Swaziland, now eSwatini in Africa. (I’m sorry, but the country’s new name sounds more like a video game to me…) It is a land with many challenges of health, poverty, disease, and education. And more. These past weeks has seen her crew from GrandStaffMinistries (.com, you know) experienced some family crises among relatives before they left America; financial challenges of course; a stolen passport at a stopover airport; stolen credit cards and money at another airport, followed by crazy rules and balky “facilitators” when help was needed; a ton-of-bricks debilitating infection to Becky herself… and so forth.

[And just as I write this, I received an emergency message from Becky in eSwatini that their facilities have caught fire that is spreading. Please pray, friends!]

Hard truth: when the devil attacks, it often means that you are doing something right. But when missions work – schools, clinics, worship centers, food sharing, teaching – is savagely attacked… is this God’s harvest for work well planned?

Well, yes, it is. For the overall accomplishments and victories of Grand Staff Ministries; for the work Emily has done and the blessings she receives; for the results of yieldedness that unfolds for Ted and me (and multiplied other testimonies), God does not bless our agendas. It’s about His plan, not our ideas of what His plan should be. He knows where we are headed. (Pssst – I can share a secret about how to know it: It is where He wants us.) And, almost always, He does not ordain where, and in what form, that harvest will be manifested.

Excuse me: He does ordain it. He just seldom shares it with us. And if we do work as unto the Lord, there are no “good” results or “bad” results; only God-results.

In fact I believe there is an aspect to spiritual planting-and-harvesting that we seldom think about. We offer ourselves as living sacrifices to serve Him, by serving others; we understand that, and we obey (not often enough, most us, but that’s another message). But our Sovereign God can use other people and other methods. But… the fact that He chooses us is a reminder that He cares about us as much as the people we serve.

It is truly the case that God wants to do a good work in us, not only in third-world kids or starving villages or abused women. By sharing Christ, sharing resources, and sharing ourselves we do not only do favors for the “lost”… but for ourselves.

And that is good theology. God will not take our lives, or our souls, for granted, as we do good. He cares about us as much as the people we serve.

Mary did not merely honor and bless Jesus by anointing His feet. She was blessed, and received honor and blessing from the Savior, for the choice she made. “The poor ye shall always have with you.” St Augustine saw that not as an admission of futility. He recognized that God wants to encourage in us, not only our loving targets, the reality of His love.

Not something only to deliver, but something to live, ourselves. Harvest time approacheth.

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Click: Thank You For Giving To the Lord