A Lesson on Play from Lady Jane (2)

 

 

Watching Lady Jane’s transition from being an outdoor cat to an indoor cat is fascinating. For example, she eats differently now than she did outside.

 

When she was outside, Lady Jane was consistently looking around when she ate. She’d eat a few bites and look around, eat a few more bites and look around, always aware of her surroundings. After all, she was responsible for finding her own food day after day, meal after meal, nothing was predictable – other than uncertainty. Outdoor cats need to be aware of their surroundings, they need to protect themselves, and since their next meal isn’t promised they need to protect their food. Elsewhere I’ve written about Socks, who was a threat to Lady Jane’s food.

 

While still outside, as Lady Jane became comfortable with us, she relaxed somewhat in her eating, if we were on the deck she didn’t check her surroundings as frequently though she never complexly let down her guard. After we brought her indoors permanently and she realized that she was safe, it wasn’t long before she stopped eating a few bites and looking around, eating a few bites and looking around.

 

During the weeks after coming inside to live with us, Lady Jane slept beneath a bed or a table. Now she sleeps in the open for she has nothing to fear, she is in a safe place and she is protected by us.

 

One of the first things we did after bringing her inside was to buy our cat some toys, including some stuffed mice and a wand to which toys are attached, such as feathers. While I could induce Lady Jane to play with me using the wand and feather, she had no interest in the mice. For the first few weeks Lady Jane would play with me and the wand, but she ignored the toys, such a “mouse,” that she could play with by herself.

 

Then, about three weeks ago, a change happened with Lady Jane; she began playing with “mouse,” batting it here and there, throwing it around, rolling with it in her paws, it was so sweet to see her playing. Lady Jane had learned to play! Lady Jane was feeling secure, she was safe, and she could play…she had nothing to fear.

 

Playing with mouse is now part of Lady Jane’s life and she gives us such joy as we watch her, yesterday she spent all day playing. Lady Jane now knows rest, love, security, and the joy of play. (Yes, yes, I realize some might say I’m overdoing it, that she is a cat. But she is our cat and we are her people – and since Vickie and I are children of our Father, we will rejoice in God’s gift of Lady Jane as life comes naturally to us.)

 

When we are safe we can play, when we aren’t safe, even when we try to play, we’ve got to be careful, we can’t really let go and play. When we are secure we can play, when we aren’t secure our play is constrained and cautious.

 

Paul writes that we are to rejoice in the Lord always, he is emphatic about this (Philippians 4:4), “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!”

 

Jesus wants our joy to be full, in fact, He wants His very joy to be poured into us and us to be filled with it – imagine, the joy of Jesus overflowing within us (John 15:11; 17:13).

 

When we know rest in Christ, we stop living by our works, our own wisdom, our own agenda…and we can play…and ever better, we can invite others to play! (Psalm 127:1; John 15:1 – 5; Hebrews 4:9 – 10). 

We don’t need to be outdoor Christians any longer, we can live securely in our Father’s House. We can stop sleeping and hiding under religious furniture, we can stop hiding the way the world hides, we need no longer look this way and that as we dine at our Father’s Table…we can enjoy our meals (especially with one another).

 

“Cease striving [relax, let go] and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

 

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matthew 11:28 – 29, The Message, Peterson).

 

Are we outdoor or indoor Christians?

Living On the Cusp of Eternity (2)

 

 

When I write that Joe and I talk about dying, I should make clear that we are talking about life beyond death, death is a portal through which we pass, it is putting off our temporal tent so that we may be clothed with our eternal tent in Christ.

 

Hebrews Chapter 11 plays a big role in my anticipation and vision of eternity. I see myself as a fellow pilgrim, along with Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, looking for that City whose Builder and Maker is God. Hebrews 11 and Revelation 21 and 22 are melded together in my heart and mind, I “see” them, I sense them, I often feel them pressing upon me and enveloping me. There are those I have known, and still know in a mystical fashion, who have gone before me, yet they are still with me in a way which can’t be described, I think any attempt at description might be profane and unlawful – too holy.

I am reminded that in The Pilgrim’s Progress Christian and Hopeful crossed the river together, and that Hopeful was encouraging to Christian through the transition. I don’t know who will be with me when I enter that river, but I am assured that should there be no one on this earth who can be with me, that our dear Lord Jesus will ensure that I am not alone, no doubt friends who have gone before, who are now numbered with that great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1), will walk with me through the transition…and to those who doubt, I simply say, “Why not?”

 

Do we not look forward to being with friends? Especially friends who we have not seen for many years? Do we not desire to share good news with our friends? What greater news could we share than the news of that City and of our dear Lord Jesus and Father who are the light of that City? Do not our friends who have gone before us yearn to share with us the riches of glory which we all have in our Lord Jesus? If those who have gone before were good friends in this life, how much greater friends will they be in our eternal home? Can we begin to imagine the glory of friendship that is unencumbered by the frailty and sin which we have endured in these earthly bodies?

 

Here are excerpts from The Pilgrim’s Progress, this occurs after Christan and Hopeful have crossed the river:

 

“There came out also at this time to meet them several of the King’s trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the world; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet.

 

“This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, and some on the left, (as it were to guard them through the upper regions,) continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down to meet them.

 

“Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and, as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother how welcome they were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them. And now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came to it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had the city itself in view; and they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there with such company, and that for ever and ever; oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed! Thus they came up to the gate.”

 

“Now I saw in my dream, that these two men went in at the gate; and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them; the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then I heard in my dream, that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, “enter ye into the joy of your lord.”

 

 I am looking forward to that City…what about you?

 

A Lesson on Play from Lady Jane (1)

  

On numerous occasions I took care of Zorba and Zelda when their “parents” were out of town. Taking care of them meant letting them out of the house to go potty, giving them food and water, and keeping an eye on their wellbeing. Zorba was a bloodhound, and Zelda a midsize mixed breed full of energy. Zorba was a senior citizen, Zelda an adolescent. While their spacious yard did not have a physical fence, they were on an invisible fence system and were trained to respect it.

 

During my first time watching Zorba and Zelda for a weekend, I planned to spend some playtime with them on my visits, giving them exercise and attention. After all, we were always playing with our puppies (they are always puppies) and ensured that they had plenty of toys. Playing with our dogs was a natural element of daily life for us.

 

Since “fetch” is Play Time 101, I assumed I’d use one of their toys and that I’d give them some good exercise. The first problem was that they had no toys. Really? No toys? How could this be? How could dogs not have toys?

 

Well, I thought, okay, we’ll play “stick.” After all, all dogs know how to play “stick.” I’ll find right-sized sticks for Zorba and Zelda and throw them. Zelda will fetch hers and bring it to me for another throw, and Zorba will do likewise. This will be good exercise for them since they are inside the house more than usual while their family is away. The three of us will have fun.

 

With woods on three sides of their house it didn’t take me long, with my practiced eye, to select two sticks which any Golden Retriever would be proud of; certain they would meet with their approval I called both dogs to me. Then, in anticipation of a rousing good time of throwing and chasing and retrieving and throwing again, in expectation of tiring both dogs out so that they’d be ready for a good dog nap, I heaved first one stick and then the other across their yard. They were beautiful long and high arching throws, giving Zorba and Zelda time to be off and running, tracking their sticks in dogful joy, perhaps even eliciting barks and howls. I envisioned Michael Jordan and Scottie Pipen racing in tandem down the court to the basket.

 

Instead, they both looked up at me, as if to say, “Why did you do that?”

 

“Stick!” I said. “Go get stick!”

 

I ran to where both sticks were, thinking they would follow me. I’d demonstrate what I wanted them to do. I clapped my hands, I encouraged them in my sweetest and most excited doggy voice, I picked both sticks up and threw them again. I waited, no movement, the dogs were exactly where they were when I made my first two throws.

 

I fetched both sticks again and went back to Zelda and Zorba.

 

“Stick, when I throw stick run and get it. It’s fun. Let’s play stick. One, two, three, GO!”

 

Again, I gave both sticks heaves that an Olympic javelin thrower would be proud of, certain the dogs would be tearing after them.

 

Again, I…not the dogs…ran after the sticks. (What were the neighbors thinking?)

 

I am slow, sometimes I can be very slow, very very s-l-o-w; it finally dawned on me that Zorba and Zelda did not know how to play.

 

When I returned home after that first visit, I said to Vickie, “They don’t know how to play. They don’t have toys, but beyond that, they don’t even know how to play “stick.” How can this be? How can dogs not know how to play?”

 

C.S. Lewis wrote somewhere that “Joy is the business of heaven.” Paul exhorts us to “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice.” Joy and rejoicing and “play” are gifts from God, they are distinct experiences, yet they often overlap. Many of the Bible’s psalms are exuberant, loud, boisterous, and demonstrative. John’s Revelation portrays heaven and the Throne Room as a place of loud noises and thunderous activity, yet these noises do not offend our senses, they inspire us, they awe us, they give glory to God and draw us into worship. (Yes, there are also times of silence and rest in Revelation and in Psalms.)

 

We can only play when we are secure. We can only play when we are at peace. We can only play when we are at rest, and we can only rest when we have played. Play is fun, it is joyful.

 

A wealthy man once boasted to me, “I have never even thrown a ball with any of my children.”

 

Now for sure it was sad that Zorba and Zelda did not know the doggy joy of playing fetch, but it was even sadder to hear this man, who took pride in his wealth, boast about not playing with his children.

 

Someone once said that you can measure a congregation’s health by the laughter you hear. I think that’s a fair observation. While it is obviously not the only vital sign, for sure its absence is a warning sign.

 

Lady Jane, our calico, has been with us indoors for a little over two months now and she is teaching us a lesson on play.

 

To be continued…

Living On the Cusp of Eternity (1)

 

My friend Joe and I talk about dying, we’re both looking forward to it. This isn’t to say that we are trying to accelerate the process, nor are we trying to force ourselves into the front of the line, but it is a glorious thought, to behold our Savior’s face. We both want to remain here for our wives, our families and friends, and those who are not yet our friends. Yet, there is a Divine pull that calls us onward and upward and inward and ever deeper into our Lord Jesus and the communion of the saints.

 

When Joe and I speak of dying we often recite 2 Corinthians 5:1 – 5. Here is Peterson’s paraphrase of the passage:

 

“We know that when these bodies of ours are taken down like tents and folded away, they will be replaced by resurrection bodies in heaven – God-made, not handmade – and we’ll never have to relocate our ‘tents’ again. Sometimes we can hardly wait to move – and so we cry out in frustration. Compared to what’s coming, living conditions around here seem like a stopover in an unfurnished shack, and we’re tired of it! We’ve been given a glimpse of the real thing, our true home, our resurrection bodies! The Spirit of God whets our appetite by giving us a taste of what’s ahead. He puts a little of heaven in our hearts so that we’ll never settle for less.”

 

While I love the “attitude” and sense of desire embedded in Peterson’s work, I also love the precision of traditional translations, they capture the depth and complexity of our calling and life in Christ, here is the NASB:

 

“For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For indeed in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven, inasmuch as we, having put it on, will not be found naked. For indeed while we are in this tent, we groan, being burdened, because we do not want to be unclothed, but to be clothed, so that what is mortal will be swallowed up by life. Now He who prepared us for this very purpose is God, who gave to us the Spirit as a pledge.”

 

God our Father has given us a desire in Christ to be with Him for eternity. God Himself, the Holy Spirit, has come to live within us, He has pledged Himself to us (2 Cor. 1:22; Eph. 1:14; Rom. 8:15 – 23) – to draw us to Himself for eternity, giving us a mysterious and glorious resurrection tent (see also 1 Corinthians 15).

 

Some folks might think that it is crazy to want to leave this tent, this body; but for the man or woman in Christ (at least according to the Bible), it is crazy not to want to! This is not escapism, it is acknowledging our destiny in Jesus Christ, it is affirming that we are “looking for a City whose Builder and Maker is God” (Hebrews 11:8 – 16), it is living as “citizens of heaven” (Phil. 3:20).

 

Yes, we can struggle with the timing of our departure (Phil. 1:21 – 26), for we want to serve others here, and yet we want to be in the Presence and with the saints “there.”

 

Living on the cusp of eternity entails, for me, a sense of transition, a passing of the baton as best I can…completion and new beginning…within our Author and Finisher…our Finisher and Author. There isn’t a day in which I don’t sense and don’t see Revelation chapters 21 – 22…some days and moments are clearer than others…I see the Light of that City…and even when there is fog…I know that the City is there…my Father and the Lamb are there.

 

And to think they are looking for me! Even as I desire to be with God, God even more so desires to be with me…with us! After all, God paid the price for me, I could not pay the price for God. God purchased me, I did not purchase God.

 

God loves you so much that He gave His only begotten Son! You may want God; God most certainly wants you! You may love God; God deeply loves you! You may want to be with God for eternity; God has pledged Himself to you, to ensure that you will be with Him!

 

How are you seeing eternity today?

 

Do you feel the pull of that City?

My Story - Your Story

 Good morning Friends,

This past Saturday was my last installment for now of My Early Story. While there is more I want to write about, namely the early Charismatic Movement, my time in Nashville, and possibly some other things, I need to catch my breath on this. It isn't just a matter of writing; it is a matter of reliving.

I hope you've enjoyed some of this, and I wonder how you view your own story.

In my advancing years I find that I remember things I'd like to forget and forget things I'd like to remember. Thankfully, I can still remember enough to share, I hope, to God's glory. 

The Bible recounts story over and over again. The Exodus is recounted throughout Scripture and is a significant motif in Revelation. The Gospel is very much a recounting of the Great Story. As a pastor, when Christmas and Easter came around, I always felt that I could not improve on the Great Story, my job, if you will, was to portray the Story and pray that the Story of Jesus would capture our hearts. 

What is your story?

And may I gently say, that if our stories have ugliness in them, ugliness that we were the objects of, or ugliness that we generated, that our wonderful Lord and Savior Jesus Christ cleanses us and heals us and redeems us and uses even the horrors that may be in our stories for His glory - we have holistic healing in Jesus. 

Life is not always pleasant, life can be terribly hard, life can even be hell at times - but our kind and good Shepherd loves us with the everlasting love of God, and He is our destiny...this life is not all there is...it is the vestibule of our everlasting life and home...a glory beyond comprehension. 

So what is your story?

How are you passing your story on to others, to the glory of Jesus? 

Much love,

Bob

My Early Story (33)

 

San Francisco and The Jesus People – Five

 

Sister Josephine was the heart of the Anchor Rescue Mission, and Sister Yvonne was her faithful friend and companion. Everyday Josephine would make the rounds of produce dealers and grocery distributors to pick up items to feed the hungry that evening at the Mission. When she’d arrive at the Mission we’d haul the day’s “catch” in and follow Jo’s directions for the preparation of the meal. I did a lot of peeling, cutting, and dicing.

 

Josephine had a heart condition, and during my stay she had an episode that laid her up for a few weeks. In her absence Sister Yvonne took the helm and we followed her directions. Josephine returned to the Mission before she was supposed to, but that was Jo, her heart for others was so much bigger than her concern for herself.

 

These were the gentlest of women, ladies, sisters in Christ, and sisters to all humanity. Feeding people, mostly men, night after night, never showing any condemnation toward them, never a critical word, always praying for people, always welcoming, always loving. They weren’t looking for Federal or State grants, they weren’t fundraising, they were just trusting God on a daily basis to meet the needs of the people they were called to serve. Don’t misunderstand, this is not a knock against fundraising or grant money, but it is to say that perhaps we make things a bit too complicated, and that perhaps we’ve lost what it is to trust Christ for provision; perhaps the main thing is no longer the main thing – maybe we’ve lost the main thing?

 

I think it was Oswald Chambers who wrote that what we call the process God calls the goal. What he means is that we get so focused on goals that we lose sight of life, we lose sight of experiencing God and others in daily life. We look at the process as a means to an end, but God sees the process as the goal – He wants us to know Him…now, today.

 

I don’t know when the Anchor Rescue Mission closed. I doubt there is a historical marker recognizing its existence. But I can tell you that if you were in San Francisco when it was open, and you were hungry and needed a generous meal served by people with tender hearts, that you were not likely to forget Josephine, Yvonne, Pastor Redford, and Brother and Sister Manners. I know that when I met them I was hungry and they fed me; when I came to them I needed a place to sleep and they took me in.

 

"I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me” (Mt. 25:40).

 

My Early Story (32)

 

San Francisco and the Jesus People – Four

 

David Hoyt and I shared a room on the second floor of the Anchor Rescue Mission. On many evenings I’d help prepare the meal for the people at the mission. Other days and evenings I’d travel with David to gather with other young people for worship, witnessing, and fellowship. Sometimes we attended churches, sometimes we met in homes.

 

What struck me was that everyone participated in these gatherings, it wasn’t just a one-man show by the preacher. My thinking was revolutionized by this – people were sharing their thoughts, praying for each other, telling others about Jesus, caring for each other – and they were excited and serious and compassionate. I remember writing a letter to a pastor friend back in Maryland about it all, I was in awe – this was church! This was Romans 12 and 1 Corinthians 12, and Ephesians 4; this was a functioning body of believers. Not long after San Francisco I would experience something similar in the early stages of the Charismatic Movement, I may share about that in the future.

 

There have been similar renewal movements in church history, movements which have a functioning body of believers as a hallmark. The Pietistic renewal in Germany is one of my favorite models; it had home groups and social action centered in Jesus Christ. Church-life as a functioning body has also been one of the strengths of the persecuted church in China. The beauty of the Jesus People was that it was not orchestrated by man and that Jesus was the focal point of the movement. In the early days of the movement you could truly say that “church is not an organization; it is an organism.”

 

A friend recently pointed out to me that there were some heresies in thought and practice that came out of the Jesus People. As I thought about that it occurred to me that that has always been the case with renewal – if you have life you’re going to have counterfeit, excess, people doing stupid things, and yes, there will even be the working of the enemy. And then it occurred to me to just look at the New Testament, much of the NT was written to correct heresy, stupid thinking, sin, and the work of the enemy. My point is that it isn’t likely we are going to do any better than the Apostles – not to be negative here, but I think that if the churches they founded had problems and false teaching grew from them, well then, perhaps we can be a bit charitable to one another and also realize in our own ministries that “we ain’t God.”

 

One evening I happened to be looking in David Hoyt’s Bible and saw that he had drawn artwork on its pages, along the margins. “Why do you have all this artwork?” I asked.

 

“Well, the Bible is my home and people put artwork in their home.”

 

I’ve never forgotten his response.

 

David’s enthusiasm and commitment to Jesus were inspirations to me. If you read about David you’ll find that he became involved in probably the ugliest cult contemporaneous with the Jesus People, The Children of God. I first read about David’s move to the cult in the magazine Christianity Today around 1973. The article also said that he had moved to Atlanta. The next day I drove to Atlanta to see him – but he had left the country and I don’t think returned for a number of years – after leaving the cult. Some of this you can find on the Web, and I guess if his book comes out [which it did after I wrote this] he’ll deal with it as he sees fit. It was certainly a painful time for him.

 

Cult or no cult, David Hoyt was an example to me, and the Jesus People gave me a glimpse of what church-life could look like. The fact that David left the cult is a testimony to the grace and faithfulness of God – our God is a covenant-keeping God and the work He begins in us He fully intends to complete.

 

“For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus,” (Phil. 1:6).

My Early Story (31)

 

San Francisco and The Jesus People – Three

 

Ralph and Shirley Manners were in their 60’s. Shirley was a large woman with a smile that would brighten just about anyone’s day and a laugh that could light up the city. She radiated exuberance. Ralph was shorter than Shirley, easy-going, always dressed neatly, and, as is often the case with couples, was much quieter than his outgoing spouse.

 

I took to Ralph and Shirley as soon as I met them, spending time in their home and being treated like a family member.

 

One weekend they asked if I wanted to visit Ralph’s mother, who lived in Oakland. Of course I did, so off we went.

 

“Momma" was in her advanced 80’s and lived in a two-bedroom apartment with a living room and eat-in kitchen. During the day we discovered that Momma had clothes that needed washing, so we put her laundry in a two-wheeled shopping cart, the kind folks used to use to wheel groceries home, and we headed off to the laundry mat, Ralph, Shirley, Momma, and me.

 

I guess we must have been a sight in that Oakland neighborhood. Racial tensions were high in those days with the Black Panthers marching in front of the Oakland Courthouse (I saw them on another visit to Oakland) and here were three elderly black folks with a young white guy hauling laundry down the street.

 

Before we knew it the day had turned to night and we decided to stay with Momma and head home the next day. When the question of night clothes was raised Momma had the answer – old fashioned white sleeping robes, the kind with a hole for you to slip your head through and two slits for your arms. So Ralph, Shirley, and Bob each got a white sleeping robe for the night. We would have fit right in with a baptismal service.

 

The next morning we got up, had breakfast in our robes around the kitchen table, and then we got our Bibles out and read the book of Esther. Yep, we were still in our robes. Read the entire book we did, enjoyed the drama, enjoyed God’s goodness to Esther and Mordecai and all the Jewish folk, and enjoyed God’s goodness to us around the table.

 

I felt like an honored guest wearing Momma’s robe, no, actually I didn’t, I felt like family, I felt like loved and accepted family. Do you remember what I said in my last post about Pastor Radford singing The Love of God and It Is Well With My Soul, how I said no one could sing those songs like he could? Well, that’s the way I feel about the book of Esther and Momma, and Shirley, and Ralph; I’ll never read the book of Esther the way I read it with those fine people – I experienced the book of Esther that morning, I experienced the book because I experienced the love of God flowing through three elderly black folks to a young white man.

 

You might recall that I wrote about the gift of a can of fruit cocktail, and how that was one of the greatest gifts I ever received. Well, that robe of Momma’s was the finest piece of clothes I ever put on – I’ve never worn anything finer…and I doubt that anyone else has either.

 

The Scriptures tell us that a day will come when we’ll have white robes; when that day comes I’ll be looking for Ralph and Shirley, and of course for Momma. 

My Early Story (30)

 

San Francisco and the Jesus People – Two

 

The Anchor Rescue Mission was an outreach to the homeless and down-and-outers, many of whom had drinking and drug problems. It was operated by Sister Josephine and her friend, Sister Yvonne. Then there was Pastor Redford, and Ralph and Shirley Manners. All of these folks were black, which I only mention in order for you to better visualize them.

 

Pastor Redford was around 5’10”, medium build, about 50 years old, with a chiseled face, not the kind that exhibits hardness, but rather one that lets you know the person has experienced life. His eyes were eyes that you probably didn’t want to look at if you were lying, those eyes were not only the window of Pastor Redford’s soul, they were taking the vital signs of your soul.

 

The pastor’s voice had a deep resonance and I loved listening to him. He could also sing, and when he sang “The Love of God,” …well, I’ve never heard anyone sing that song the way Pastor Redford could sing it. I can still hear him on the refrain:

 

“Oh love of God, how rich and pure, how measureless and strong, it shall forever more endure, the saints and angels song.”

 

On my last night at the Anchor Rescue Mission Pastor Redford asked me what song I’d like him to sing, my request was, “It Is Well With My Soul.” There again, I’ve never heard anyone sing that hymn like Pastor Redford – oh the range his voice had, he’d take you down into a cavern in which you were enveloped with reverberating bass notes, and then lift you higher than the clouds – you just didn’t want it to end.

 

Speaking of hymns, every evening at the worship service there would be a hymn request time. One of the regulars, Johnny, made the same request at least once a week, sometimes more frequently, it was “Yield Not To Temptation.”

 

Now I suppose Johnny had seen his share of temptation, and my guess is that he knew what it was to yield to temptation, but he kept requesting that song, week after week. He had a way of running his words together when requesting that particular hymn; he’d raise himself about halfway up from his chair, slightly bent over, and you’d hear, “Yieldnottatemptatshun”. Then he’d sit down and Sister Yvonne, who played the piano, and Pastor Redford, would be ready to lead us all in Johnny’s request.

 

I imagine an onlooker might be cynical about Johnny and his request, here’s a drinker asking for this song week after week. But I think there is a lot to be said about not giving up hope, about acknowledging our frailties, and just maybe that song gave some other folks there some hope too.

 

There is a line in the hymn, “dark passions subdue.” It takes a real man, or a real woman, to acknowledge that he or she has the capacity for dark passions. Johnny wasn’t putting on airs, he was just laying it out there. Of course today the idea of temptation is relegated to giving in and eating too much chocolate, we aren’t tempted to sin anymore because there isn’t anything called sin – everything has a diagnosis and we are no longer responsible for our actions. We live in a therapeutic society in which we all just want to feel good.  I don’t think Johnny was interested in feeling good, he was interested in getting out of the hell he was in. Johnny was looking for hope, and maybe every time he sang those words, with all of us around him, maybe just for the three verses of that hymn, Johnny could see beyond his search for the next drink and see the light of Christ shining into his heart.

 

I grew to like that hymn, and on my last night at the mission I was hoping that Johnny would request it, and he didn’t disappoint me.

 

Here’s the chorus of Johnny’s hymn:

 

“Ask the Savior to help you. Comfort, strengthen, and keep you. He is willing to aid you. He will carry you through.”

 

Not a bad piece of advice – thanks Johnny.

 

My Early Story (29)

 

San Francisco and the Jesus People – One

 

A while back I was talking with a parishioner and mentioned the Jesus People, he didn’t have a clue to what I was referring. If you don’t either I’d suggest you Google “San Francisco Jesus People” and get some background. If you do read about the Jesus People in San Francisco (and elsewhere) chances are the names David Hoyt and Kent Philpott will come up.

 

Much like Miguel Diaz and George Will, David and Kent had an early influence on me. Around 2010 I chatted with Kent on the phone after some email exchanges, and later I had a snail mail (yes – they still do happen!) exchange with David Hoyt – in both cases it had been over 40 years since I had contact with them. David has recently published a book on the Jesus People.

 

If you do Google about the Jesus People, you’ll find more info about David and Kent than I could share on a blog, but I do want to share about my time with them, especially David, and about my time with other great people in San Francisco.

 

I suppose you could say that I had three spheres of relationships in San Francisco, the Jesus People, the black church community, and the hippie/revolutionary movement. Yep – no typos here. For a time I lived in Haight-Asbury (and again, if you don’t know about Haight-Asbury and the hippie movement go ahead and look it up). I also lived with David Hoyt at the Anchor Rescue Mission.

 

Now I need to adopt something here that I am a bit uncomfortable with, but I see no way around it – other than David and Kent I’m going to have to supply names for people whose names I can’t remember. If I do remember an actual name I’ll point that out, otherwise I’m afraid that I’ll be supplying names as I go along – I think you’d get tired of reading about “Mrs. so-and-so whose name I can’t remember.” Fair enough? Thanks.

 

The Spanish-speaking community of New York City taught me hospitality, a love for missions, and a love for those in need. The Jesus People introduced me to the functioning Body of Christ. Up until my encounter with The Jesus People my paradigm of church was traditional, the preacher/pastor did the work and everyone else basically watched. My idea of “ministry” was individualistic, ministry centered on the preacher/pastor, and these preacher/pastors were focused on developing their ministries – as opposed to developing people.

 

By this time I had probably read Watchman Nee’s The Normal Christian Church Life, now I think republished under another title, but I must not have understood it. Nor must I have understood Bonheoffer's discussion of community in The Cost of Discipleship. What we see is so much more powerful than what we read – I guess I needed to “see” a functioning body before I could relate to writings about a functioning body.

 

If you’ve never seen a VW microbus with Jesus- People art painted all over it, rolling down the highway with the driver and inhabitants singing Jesus songs, you’ve missed a sweet part of both Americana and church history. Some folks might want to celebrate Woodstock, I’ll celebrate The Jesus People. Come to think of it, that’s not a bad testimony – to have people call you “Jesus People.”

 

“…and the disciples were first called Christians in Antioch.”      Acts 11:26

My Early Story (28)

 

Coming To Know Jesus - Four

 

I have not always been a good witness for Jesus, O my goodness, No!

 

But, witnessing has been part of the fabric of my life…from the beginning. I shared Jesus with my friends and classmates, I purchased tracts and handled them out, I talked to people at bus stops. I was once at the bus terminal in Friendship Heights on the D.C. – MD. line, where you had to transfer, and was talking to some folks who happened to be Catholic.

 

When I mentioned being “born again” (John Chapter 3), and they told me that that wasn’t in the Catholic Bible, I went into the bookstore that was there and purchased a Roman Catholic Bible and showed them the passage.

 

I have never understood not sharing Jesus with coworkers. If it had not been for a coworker I would not know Jesus. I have worked as a construction laborer, a carpenter, worked in a stone quarry, served as a soldier, as well as a CFO in a high-profile regional firm, and as a COO – and by God’s grace I have seen my positions as first and foremost venues to be the Presence of God to others, places to serve others, pray for others, share Jesus with others, be Jesus to others.

 

To be sure, in my early years I was inconsistent in my living, I don’t want to mislead you. To be sure, I am still on the learning curve of life. However, the workplace has been the primary place of spiritual formation in my life (along with marriage and Chrisitan koinonia) and a place of witness…often long-term relational witness.

 

I was once preparing to leave a firm and knew that there was one lady who I had not shared Jesus with, her name was Julie. I invited her to lunch, which she accepted. At lunch I looked across the table and said, “Julie, I need to apologize to you. We’ve worked together over a year and I’ve never shared the most important part of my life with you. Could I please do that now?”

 

With a smile she said, “Of course,” and we had a sweet time together as I shared my testimony and about Jesus Christ.

 

Now let me remind you, that the quality of my work and my attitude of service toward my coworkers laid the groundwork for this lunch – we cannot separate our work and our actions from our words.

 

The Early Church grew through workplace witness, through witness via commerce. As Michael Green writes (in effect) in his book, Evangelism in the Early Church, “Evangelism in the Early Church was primarily a lay movement.”

 

Perhaps being rooted in Mark 8:34 – 38 has meant that I’ve never expected anything but the Cross in life, service, and witness. What is the point of espousing something that you can’t give your life to? That you can’t give your life for? If Jesus is God, which He is, and if we have truly meant Him and are in a relationship with Him, then we ought to get with the program – He has sent us as the Father has sent Him (John 17:18; 20:21).

 

From the beginning of my life in Christ I have loved hymns. I used to not only carry a Bible, but also a hymnal. Often, when waiting for a bus in D.C. I’d have my hymnal open and sing to the Lord silently, I guess like praying the psalms. Those hymns are embedded in my soul and I still sing them, with renewed and deeper meaning; Jesus is their focus, and the Bible is their foundation.

 

There are so many things to write about, so many things I “see” looking back, but I’d better close this for now. Here is a saying I learned as a teenager, and I still believe it:

 

Only one life, twill soon be past, only what’s done for Christ will last.

 

My Early Story (27)

 

Coming To Know Jesus - Three

 

My poor father didn’t know what to think about me. He hated what was happening, but I suppose he hated it because he wasn’t equipped to process and interpret it. I had no rules when living with him. I could come home anytime I wanted to, school night or not, and I was out some late nights. I was really a kid on his own, doing his own thing. The only constant in my life was my after-school job.

 

Now you might think that school was a constant, but school was chaotic for me. I had some interesting and nice friends, one from Greece, another from Guatemala, another from Thailand, and one American – the school had quite a few international students, after all, we were in N.W. D.C. We ate lunch together most days. I was also in Jr. R.O.T.C.

 

But in terms of academics, I really didn’t care.

 

Before Howard Wall’s question to me about being a Christian, I was reading philosophy on my own; I recall Plato and David Hume. Perhaps if I had a goal, it was to discover what the heck we were all doing here on earth.

 

I enjoyed my grocery job because I had a feeling of accomplishment, and I liked the people I worked with. Howard Wall was Native American, then there were Jewish folk (the owners were two Jewish brothers), your average white folks, a Cuban refugee, and African – Americans. I truly liked them all and they all treated me well. I was the only kid working there until I got my classmate Roderick a job. Maybe, looking back, it was also a safe place for me, a kid in an alcoholic family.

 

As I was coming to know Jesus I began carrying a pocket New Testament and Psalms with me. I’d read it in some classes (I had been reading philosophy in classes that bored me), and I read it during lunch and other breaks. While my international friends thought my turn to religion was a good thing, my best Anglo friend, like my dad, was upset.

 

One day, during a class break, I was sitting at the base of the flagpole reading the New Testament when my friend, Frank, came up to me and knocked the book out of my hand – he was so angry at me coming to Jesus.

 

I shared Jesus with my friends back in Maryland, where I had lived with my mom, two younger brothers, and Aunt Martha. One evening at my church in the Wheaton – Silver Spring area, I invited friends to come so we could talk about Jesus (the pastor let me use a room), and that’s what we did. Some came to know Jesus over those same months that I was coming to know Him.

My Early Story (26)

 

Coming to Know Jesus – Two

 

I have known folks who can’t recall a time when they didn’t know Jesus. I have known others who can point to a time and place when they came to know Him. All I can tell you about myself is that sometime in early 1966, over the course of a few weeks, or maybe months, I came into a relationship with Jesus Christ.

 

This occurred primarily through reading the Bible. My great-great aunt Martha gave my brother Bill and me Bibles when we were quite young, and though I never read mine, when I moved in with my Dad I brought my Bible along with my other books (mostly history). As I look back, what is particularly interesting about Aunt Martha’s gift is that she wasn’t a believer, she was very much an idealistic humanistic, along the line of New England transcendentalism.

 

After I came to know Jesus Aunt Martha said to me, “You’ll get over this.”

 

One thing for sure, Aunt Martha loved me even if she didn’t understand me and I owe as much to her as to anyone in my life for many many reasons.

 

Aunt Martha once told me that she’d heard Gypsy Smith preach; who knows the seed that God placed in her heart during that meeting. She also once mentioned that she had an aunt named Rose who prayed. “Aunt Rose prayed,” is what she said. I’m sorry I never asked her to tell me more about her Aunt Rose, but I’ve often thought that I must be the fruit of Aunt Rose’s prayers.

 

I began with Genesis in my Bible reading and got bogged down in Leviticus. What to do? I noticed there were red letters in the back part of the Bible and was drawn to them. These were, of course, the words of Jesus.

 

I only had to read Mark 8:34 – 38, and Mark 12:29 – 31 once to realize the import of what I was reading. I read those passages over and over and over again, and without trying to memorize them, I knew them, they were embedded in my soul. I have probably recited them in Sunday messages, and in conversation, more than any other passages, with Galatians 2:20 a close second.

 

Frankly, the only Gospel I have ever recognized is the call of Jesus in Mark 8:324 – 38, anything else is less than the Gospel. This is what conversion looks like. Many people are converted who never say a “salvation prayer,” and many are not converted who say such a prayer. Jesus draws us in many ways, all by His Holy Spirit.

My Early Story (25)

 

Coming to Know Jesus - One

 

I’m going to take a step back and talk about coming to know Jesus. Perhaps I should have included this earlier in these reflections, but I didn’t want to disrupt the action in the narrative. I struggle with the concept of coming to know Jesus, the title, because there is so much mystery about coming into a relationship with Jesus Christ. Sometimes I wonder when I really came to know Him, and sometimes I wonder how deeply I know Him, and sometimes I wonder how He ever puts up with me and why He didn’t just dump me in the garbage years ago.

 

I don’t buy the idea that we say a few words and call salvation a done deal – sorry about that, but I just don’t see that in the Bible and I don’t see that in real life. Repentance means that we change direction and follow Jesus, simply confessing our sins is not repentance – we are often confused about this – repentance includes confession of sins, but confession of sins need not include repentance. For those of us who quote 1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness,” let me remind us that this is written to Christians, to those who have already repented and are already in a relationship with Jesus Christ.

 

Mark 8:34 – 38 is Jesus’ call to us to follow Him, if you read Jesus’ words you’ll see that this is a decision that is life-changing, a new way of life, that includes self-denial and the Cross and witnessing. This is hardly a picture of getting a salvation ticket validated and going our own merry way.

 

This is not to say that we can’t have dramatic salvation experiences that usher us into repentance and eternal life, my own wife has a dramatic testimony. It is, however, to say that we would do well to revisit the Parable of the Sower, there may be something there for us. We would also do well to heed Bonhoeffer’s warning about “cheap grace,” which we seem to be selling and mass marketing. When Jesus says that the way and the gate are narrow, I think He means what He says.

 

I passionately believe in what we often term the “assurance of salvation” and the “perseverance of the saints,” but I also passionately believe that if we aren’t preaching the Gospel and the call to discipleship, that we likely have many folks with a false sense of security. This is like the religious leaders of Jeremiah’s time, who taught, “Peace, peace,” when there was no peace.

 

I think it was Ian Thomas who wrote something like, “There are those who try to live a life they have never had, and then there are those who have a life they never live.” I think this is probably true in just about all Christian gatherings, a pastoral challenge is to help both groups along the way…to the Way.

 

My Early Story (24)

 

Eufemio Alvarez’s Automobile Repair – NY

 

I suppose I should close out NY and move on, here are some concluding pictures:

 

Friday nights were often all-night services at the church on Delancey Street. People from many churches would gather, play music, preach, and pray into the wee hours of the morning. If you got hungry you went out and got something to eat and came back.

 

The Colon family on Meserole St. in in Brooklyn were kind to me. They pastored a church, and across from the church was what they called a “mission house.” Missionaries from all over the world used it as a place to stay and a base of operations when visiting the States. I remember a lively pastor from Guatemala, and an older pastor from Columbia. The older man had been persecuted for his faith – placed in a barrel and rolled down a hill, he was a gentle soul.

 

There was another brother, an older man, Brother Maisonette, with whom I traveled to Haiti, who also lived in the mission house.

 

On E. 10th Street in Manhattan I met a building superintendent who had a chicken farm in the basement of the building. Yep, you read correctly – a chicken farm. He opened the stairs from the sidewalk – the kind that have double metal doors embedded in the sidewalk – took me down into the bowels of the building…and I guess there were at least 50 chickens. He was a nice guy, what you might call a “good egg.”

 

On one visit to NY, Eufemio Alvarez demonstrated his ability to deal with troubled automobiles. You may recall that in an earlier post I described him as “mercurial,” here is what I mean.

 

“Where is your car,” I asked Brother Alvarez.

 

“Well, the devil had been giving me problems with that car. It kept breaking down. I’d go to Harlem and it would break down. I’d go to Brooklyn and it would break down. I’d go down FDR Drive and it would break down. The devil kept making my car break down – so I decided to do something about it.”

 

“What did you do?” I asked.

 

“I set it on fire. It won’t break down anymore. I showed the devil I wasn’t going to allow him to trouble me.”

 

See what I mean about being mercurial?

 

I haven’t quite figured out why Brother Alvarez thought he got the better of the devil on that deal, and I haven’t bothered to try to work out the theology behind setting his car on fire – but I guess considering other things I’ve seen over the years that the only person Eufemio hurt was himself and I don’t think he propagated a teaching that folks should start burning their cars when they break down.

 

Come to think of it, he may have been doing his friends and family a favor by burning his car – you'd only have to ride with him a few blocks to know what I mean.  He must have been watching too much Roller Derby because he was forever blocking and passing other cars and (seemingly) trying to knock pedestrians over guardrails. He should have been a taxi driver.

My Early Story (23)

 

The Gospel According to George Will

 

It occurs to me that I should unpack what George taught me for those who might not be familiar with my passing reference to only God being able to live the Christian life; in so doing I’m demonstrating that George did in fact mentor me in the greatest possible way – he kept my focus on Christ.

 

In a recent conversation with George I heard, “I am nothing, I can do nothing, I can be nothing – Christ is everything.” That is exactly what I heard from George in the 1960’s.

 

In John 5:19 Jesus says, “The Son can do nothing of Himself, unless it is something He sees the Father doing.” Then in John 5:30, “I can do nothing on my own initiative.” “The Father abiding in Me does His works,” 14:10.

 

In John 15:15:5 Jesus says to us, “I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.”

 

These are some of the passages that George used in his preaching when I was with him, passages that have become one with him over the years, passages that he still speaks of with passion.

 

Another passage I often heard from George, a passage that I was reminded of when listening to a recent sermon by my friend Michael Daily, is 1 Corinthians 1:30-31:

 

“But by His [God’s] doing you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption, so that, just as it is written, “Let him who boasts, boast in the LORD.”

 

I’m getting to the place where I can really say that, “I’ve lived a long time.” I’m also getting to the place when I can say, “I’ve been a Christian for a long time – almost 60 years.” This then also allows me to say, “I’ve seen a lot of religious fads and fancies, I’ve seen a lot of substitutes for Jesus in the Christian community, a lot of substitutes for knowing Him relationally (is there any other way to know Him?) and a lot of substitutes for actually knowing the Bible – and none of them amount to anything worth keeping.

 

More than ever we live in a time of religious personalities with quick fixes, but I ask, “Where is Jesus? Where is the Christ of the Cross and the Cross of Christ?” I don’t believe that I’d be asking those questions were it not for George.

 

I have not always been a good testimony for Jesus, but God has always been merciful. There have been times I have sought the quick fix, but God has always brought me back to the Cross. And there have been many “Christian” things I’ve walked away from because I haven’t seen Jesus.

 

Even today George is enigmatic to me, there is a lot about him I don’t understand – but he certainly was used by God to build a foundation in my life.

 

“I am crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me” (Galatians 2:20).

 

My Early Story (22)

 

Eufemio and Carmen Alvarez

 

Carmen Alvarez, Eufemio’s wife, was as patient and gracious a lady as I have ever met. The Alvarezs lived in a first-floor apartment in the projects off FDR Drive in Manhattan. Carmen was around 5’8”, taller than her husband, with long black hair, somewhat plump but not excessively so, and a round face that always had a smile for guests. With her six children and mercurial husband she had her hands full, yet she never revealed the least bit of stress or irritation.

 

Eufemio was indeed mercurial, he could go from zero to sixty in 2.3 seconds leaving rubber on the asphalt. Brother Alvarez’s way of parenting his children was often a matter of increasing decibels; whereas Sister Alvarez brought harmony from cacophony with a smile and melodious words. If you’re familiar with the clarinet, Eufemio played upper-register notes and Carmen played the middle register, along with occasional lower notes with deep soothing resonance.  

 

This is not to say that Eufemio didn’t embrace his children and didn’t have a warm smile and cheerful word for them, he often did; but Eufemio was always on the go and when he was home it was to grab a bite to eat, change clothes for that evening’s preaching, and exit the apartment the way Jeff Gordon exits Pit Road during the Daytona 500, the difference being that Eufemio didn’t observe a speed limit.

 

Mrs. Alvarez always had coffee for visitors, and if you were there during mealtime you could expect an invitation to eat with the family. This was true of every family I knew in NYC. Hospitality was a way of life for the Hispanic community. Perhaps one of the blessings of a basic diet of rice and beans is that you don’t need to worry about calling up Martha Stewart for a recipe for honored guests; guests know they are honored by the simple experience of sharing a meal – it is in the sharing that we find the substance. After all, the greatest meal any of us can prepare for another or partake of with another is bread and wine. Next to the bread and wine I think I’ll list rice and beans.

My Early Story (21)

 

Miguel Diaz – Part Two

 

I lost track of Miguel around 1973. He had married Carmen Maria and moved to Boston to pastor, where I paid him a couple of visits. Then they went to Latin America as missionaries and I didn’t know how to contact them.

 

As the years went by Miguel was on my list of people that I wished I could reconnect with. As with George and his family, so with Miguel and his family, they remained in my prayers.

 

In the summer of 2001 Vickie and I were in Toronto at a pastors’ conference sponsored by the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association. There were around 1,000 people there and the format consisted of plenary sessions and small workshops. On the second afternoon I was in a meeting room for a workshop on worship music. I was seated and chatting with the man next to me, waiting for the workshop to begin, when I heard a deep distinctive voice, “Are you Robert Withers?”

 

I looked up and saw Miguel Diaz – 28 years since I had last seen him, I was looking at Miguel Diaz – he was a bit more then than 185 pounds (sorry Mike!), but it was Miguel Diaz.

 

After our embrace he said, “Last night, in the worship meeting, I heard a laugh, and I looked at Carmen Maria and said, ‘Withers is here. That’s his laugh.’”

 

Ah what a blessing, what a treat to see Miguel again, to have a wish fulfilled – how sweet. Vickie and I had lunch with them and spent time with them before the conference ended. A year or so later they visited us in Virginia while on a ministry trip.

 

In the years since 1973 they had served as missionaries in Central America and pastored in Philadelphia, which is what they were doing when we reconnected. We exchange emails from time to time and now that I’m writing this I think I should probably give him a call and do some more serious catching up. After all, it isn’t everyone who will wipe bird poop off your head.

My Early Story (20)

 

Miguel Diaz

 

Life at Ayers Kaserne in Kirchgoens, Germany was lonely for me. The men in my infantry unit were good guys, but I hungered for Christian fellowship. The chapel services were plain vanilla, about as inspiring as Interstate 64 between Richmond and Charlottesville, straight with no scenery, a drive that can easily put you to sleep. Our chaplain was nice enough, but in the military you never know what you’re going to get with a chaplain – I guess it’s the same way in churches with pastors, some guys and gals should have gone into social work and skipped the ministry.

 

I taught Sunday School for a crowd of military children, and I mean a crowd. There must have been fifty of the rascals. I only mention this because I might forget it and years from now this will remind me.

 

A new chaplain arrived on base, a tall, balding, red-haired, slender colonel in his mid-40’s. He was a Southern Baptist. Shortly after his arrival there was a notice: GOSPEL HYMN SING THIS COMING SUNDAY, 1900 HOURS (1900 hours is military talk for 7:00 P.M.). That Sunday evening a group of about 40 of us gathered and sang hymns. A few pews in front of me I noticed a Hispanic soldier. When the hymn service concluded I made my way to him and asked, “Are you from New York City?”

 

“Yes,” he replied.

 

“Are you Pentecostal?” I continued. (In those days if you were Hispanic and lived in NYC and were not Roman Catholic you were probably Pentecostal.)

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

So began my friendship with Miguel Diaz. Miguel is about 6’1”, was around 185 pounds in those days, wore glasses, and had a deep voice that ended sentences on high notes. Perhaps that was the Spanish coming through the English? Miguel was a medic. We quickly got to know each other, spending time praying, reading the Bible, and talking to other soldiers about Jesus.

 

We soon received permission from the new chaplain to hold Sunday evening services at the chapel. We put posters up around the base and folks showed up. We ended up receiving support in the form of hymnals from the Church of God, Cleveland, TN. Miguel remembers a time he and I prayed with a distraught soldier out in the rain, kneeling on the ground – since I’m accustomed to people remembering things that I don’t I’ll trust him on that one.

 

Miguel was thoughtful, good natured, patient, and a good friend. After our Army days I looked him up in Manhattan and we had more time together. He was going into vocational ministry and I visited his church on more than one occasion. One of my shining moments was my participation in a street meeting his church was holding. There we were on the street, singing and preaching, I guess at least 20 of us.

 

Now you never know who or what you’ll attract at a street meeting. Some folks will be respectful, others derisive.  D.L. Moody was warned not to go to some places in the UK for open air meetings due to the roughness of the population, but he went anyway. John Wesley went into some pretty tough areas too. David Wilkerson established Teen Challenge on the streets of NY. If you are going to put yourself out in public you have to be willing to suffer the consequences.

 

There we were, on a street corner, sharing the Gospel – not knowing what might befall us…when it happened…

 

A bird pooped on my head.

 

Miguel cleaned it off. I told you that he was a good friend.

My Early Story (19)

 

Retrospective Thoughts

 

In reading about my expulsion from Bible College and arrival in NY you may be thinking, “That’s pretty neat. What a great experience for Bob.” If you are thinking anything along those lines I want to disabuse you of the thought. Yes, it was wonderful meeting the Spanish-speaking Christians of NY and I treasure what they taught me and most of all their friendship. I also treasure George Will – I have been blessed to know him and without my early exposure to our inner life in Christ, which came through George, my life would be much the poorer.

 

On the other hand, I didn’t have an adult male or males mentoring me, guiding me, directing me, and holding me accountable. I had been a poster boy for The Little Church in NW D.C. and for the church in Silver Spring, MD. Then I was a poster-boy of sorts for the NY circles I was in – and George, well, George I’m sure did the best he could with me, but I don’t recall direction or challenge from him either.

 

I had been a Christian for less than a year after my arrival in NY – and this poster boy was anything but mature, in fact I was markedly immature and self-centered. I needed a framework within which to live and I didn’t have it. I needed accountability and didn’t have it. I was building a house without a foundation and it was not a good thing.

 

The fact that I could speak publicly and that I knew the Bible reasonably well (I use the term "knew" in a sense of storyline and data rather than in a sense of understanding and wisdom) didn't mean that I had internal character or maturity. I've seen this mistake made throughout my life in the church, with both young and old. How many times have I seen a successful businessperson come to Christ and be given a position of leadership in the church without a period of discipleship? Too many. It's the same thinking.

 

This lack of direction and accountability would cost me dearly in my early adult life – and so my point is that responsible accountable relationships are critical in formative years (actually in all seasons of life) and that if you are young that you should seek out older folks to mentor you – and ask them to hold you accountable. If you are older – consider approaching younger people to come alongside them in an intentional and accountable fashion – not controlling, but accountable, there is a difference.

 

If you are a pastor or church elder – every young person in your congregation should have someone walking alongside him or her. The liftoff is critical for the Space Shuttle, if its trajectory is off the mission will be off; yet we let our teenagers and young adults launch their lives without helping them with their trajectory, we abdicate responsibility. Whatever the reasons we do this we need to get over it, take the risk, and get involved in the lives of our teenagers and young adults – and this includes young married couples.

 

Our young people need much more than programs or cool music or hip-hop or “contemporary” services and events – they need relationships – which seem to be one of the things we don’t have time for anymore.