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Knowing the Way Home...

My youngest son, Mark, raises, among other things, homing pigeons.  I have been amazed how this creature I once thought of as nothing more than a city-nuisance, pecking around on the ground for any leftovers on the dirty city streets and park trash cans, could, and does, amaze me with their sense of wonder and amazement.   Mark can release these pigeons from their coop, let them fly free for as long as they like, and, every time, they return to their home.  He can even take them to a remote area, release them, and, like clockwork, they usually beat him home!

I've read a bit how the homing pigeons have a magnetic north somehow imprinted into their brain, and, how they use low frequency  infra-sounds to give them a geographical marker no matter where they may be released that allows them to always know the way home.  But, I have also witnessed Mark's care for the pigeons as a means to bring them home safely each day.

When he first got the pigeons, he asked me to feed them for a couple of days he would be gone.  Sure, no problem, I thought.  Just throw a little feed inside their coop and all's well...  Not exactly.  Mark gave me specific instruction on feeding his newly acquired "family members".  Before I was to give them the food, I was first to shake a plastic bottle full of rocks and give a little whistle - This, Mark said, would teach the pigeons to respond to his calls any time they were within hearing distance (Which, with a pigeons keen sense of hearing, I've learned, can be a pretty long distance).  As they heard the bottle shaking, the soft whistle, the call, they would associate it with their place to find, food, water, nurture... home. 

I reluctantly shook the bottle full of rocks, whistled softly hoping nobody would witness my what seemed compulsive behavior and overkill for something as simple as feeding a few stupid birds.  But, to my absolute amazement, after Mark had done this repeatedly, day after day, and week after week - His disciplined repetition paid off as he can release his beloved pigeons, call them at any time, and,  soon they'll make back home...

Perhaps we all have that something innately imprinted into our heart that allows us to somehow sense the direction we need to go.  Maybe we are able to hear God's voice softly speaking to our soul, beaconing us homeward.  But, just maybe as well, we need that little extra effort to bring us home safely.  That personalized calling, summons, reminder of who we are and where we really belong. 

Maybe I can learn something from Mark about being the Church - That place, that family, that home for folks who may have never really had a place of belonging to be nurtured, taught, loved, called, and disciplined, so, no matter what life might throw their way; no matter what they might encounter on one of their daily flights; no matter where they may find themselves at any given time; they know there is one place, and perhaps one place alone, they can find the love, support, nurture, feeding they need for the well being of their souls - Their church - their family - their home...

The Pastor Hanging in the Bars...

Yesterday, I posted about my "community" over at the local Waffle House, and the eclectic mix we are.  Later in the morning, I had coffee with one of our new church planters, Carter McInnis, lead pastor of the UMC of the Way in Lawrenceville.  I love to be around our new church planters!   I always come away energized and excited about the work God is doing in and through them and the churches they lead.  These guys and gals are truly reaching the non churched culture in relevant ways.

It's not uncommon for me, particularly in my new position overseeing our new church development, to have a pastor tell me they want to plant a new church that reaches the non churched and lost.  I usually respond with something like, Ah, great.  Tell me about the last conversation, lunch, encounter you had with a non churched person.  The reply I too often receive goes something like, Oh, well... I, um, I really don't know any non churched people.   What!  You have a passion for reaching non churched people, and you don't even talk to them?  They're everywhere!  There's more non churched, de-churched, minimally churched people in our state than churched, saved, sanctified and holy!  And you want to start a church for them?

But, not Carter.  In our conversation he said, As the executive director, and my direct report, I thought you might want to know... I frequent the local bars.  I looked into his impish eyes and saw that glimmer of mischief.  He followed by saying, I used to hang out in the local Starbucks, meeting, greeting, and getting to know the folks.  Then, one day, as I was sitting sipping on a late', eavesdropping on the tables around me - I heard the group of students in front of me talking about their awesome youth group, the two guys behind me discussing their Bible study, the people beside me talking about shuttling their kids to the various children's ministry activities in their churches....  And it dawned on me -- These people are all already active in a church!  So, where can I find some non churched folks?  Epiphany - IN THE LOCAL SPORTS BAR!  So, Carter continued, that night I went to the local sports bar to take in the Monday night game - I mean, I know football; I can talk about football,; I can relate to people who are watching football -- And guess what?  EVERYBODY IN THE BAR THAT NIGHT WAS UN CHURCHED! 

Carter had hit the non churched lotto!  He'd tapped into his passion to meet, reach, and relate to the vast number of people who are not currently and actively affiliated with any local church.  He found those who aren't yet, and began building bridges to help them discover the love their Savior has for them! 

I'm glad we have pastors like Carter whose intense desire for the non churched people in our midst fuels his fire to think of out of the box, creative ways to meet them RIGHT WHERE THEY ARE and begin building relationships that respect them and who they are.  Carter opened his outer shirt he was wearing and revealed a teeshirt with the name of the sports bar.  The owner gave it to me, he said.  He also gives me all the sweat tea and coke I can drink on Monday nights...

I think that guy, Jesus, was often seen dinning with those who weren't known to frequent the local Synagogues - Those outsiders, disenfranchised, yet to be people who were so important to Jesus he was willing to die so they might live!  Thanks Carter for being an obedient follower...

Waffle House Community...

I'm a morning kind of guy -- Up at 5:10 each day, cup of coffee, shower, then breakfast.  I usually cook my own breakfast as a part of my morning ritual, but, three or four times a month I like to stop by the local Waffle House on my way in to the Methodist Center.   

Most of the time when I'm eating alone, I spend the majority of my time  with my Iphone in my hand checking emails and catching up.  But, not at the Waffle House -- There's too much happening to risk missing something.  The clientèle at the WH is as eclectic as it gets.  And, the great thing about it is, nobody, as unique as some are, is out of place. 

The WH I frequent is full of some interestingly odd people, but, we all seem to be right at home together.  There's "Ponytail Guy", the older fellow with the gray beard and long gray ponytail who looks to have never left the sixties; sitting on the bar stool next to him is the African American girl who always has on an over-sized, dirty  golf-type shirt, and she always has her arms and hands tucked up inside the shirt like she's freezing cold.  A couple of barstools down from them is the transvestite who's always decked out in a brightly colored dress and spiked heals.  Then, in the booth closest to the door is the Prince lookalike from head to toe, the artist Prince is in the house - Waffle House that is.  Right in the middle is Jack - Or, that's what I call him because he drives the big Jack Daniels Whiskey truck that he parks on the edge of the lot before coming in for a morning cup of coffee and two slices of toast before making his daily whiskey run around Atlanta.  Rounding off our little community of misfits are the two waitresses, Nell and Keisha, and the genius memory guy cook, Rob -- Oh, and me, Mr. dress pants and button-down shirt, two eggs scrambled, dry wheat toast and Diet Coke guy sitting on the bar stool by the cash register...

All-in-all, I guess we're a sort of motley-crew.  But, none of us seem to  feel out of place; we all seem to get along and enjoy observing, chatting, laughing, and dining together for our brief morning, predawn convergence.

I wonder sometimes, why is the Church so exclusive?  Why do people only seem comfortable worshiping with other people who are pretty much just like them?  Is life an extension of worship - Or, maybe even more appropriate, shouldn't worship be an extension of our real life?   I wonder if, perhaps, my Waffle House experience may be more representative of what our churches should look like than what most of us see on any given Sunday morning? 

I don't know, really...  Perhaps worshipping with people like us somehow builds us up and prepares us for our real-life reationships and encounters...  Maybe I'll just keep communing with my Waffle House family until Jesus comes back - Then I'll know for sure what real, authentic community should look like.  Till then, grace and peace, two eggs scrambled, wheat toast, Diet Coke and eclectic table-mates to get the day going just may need to suffice...

Not Always Easy...

I'm doing the  Bible in a Year scripture readings from crosswalk.com and was reminded this morning that things are not always easy for a follower, and especially, a leader in the cause for Christ. 

8 We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed and broken. We are perplexed, but we don't give up and quit. 9 We are hunted down, but God never abandons us. We get knocked down, but we get up again and keep going. (2 Corinthians 4.8-9)

It's easy to forget just how difficult things were for those first Christians whose lives were literally in danger each day simply because they professed a belief in the Risen Lord. 

I think how  we, in the Church today, often forget what our role/goal/mission really is -- "To make Christ known to the world!" - In a quarter of a century of pastoral ministry I've seen too many times Christians/believers/followers of the Risen Christ become so caught up in the "comforts" of Christianity that we refuse any type of suffering.  I don't like this!  We've never done it this way before!  That's going to be too much trouble!  And on and on the list could go in ways we often conduct ourselves as Christ's followers. 

I wonder, sometimes, what might happen if we accepted the life of a disciple is not always easy - Being the Church is not always convenient - Living the life of a follower of the resurrected Christ is not always going to be comfortable...  What differences could be made if the Church/Body/Congregation were willing to make the sacrifices of comfort and ease to reach a lost and hurting world with the news of a Savior?

Why Pop...?

I took the day off today and was building a picket fence in my yard.  My son, Mark, and granddaughter Aly came over to see what I was doing.  Aly's first words were, Why are you digging that hole Pop?  What a great question!   I explained to her that this is where the posts for the fence would go, and that I could not complete the fence without the holes.  With that she was satisfied, and jumped in to help in any way she could - Well, actually, she began to supervise me in the "how to" dig the holes, but that's another story for another blog :). 

But, I wonder:  How many times do we do things without fist asking "Why?".  Why is this important?  Why does it need to be done?  How does it fit into the big picture of what I'm trying to achieve?   It's so easy to get all caught up in doing things without asking the fundamental questions...

As a church planter I know the importance of always keeping the "why" in the forefront.  To continuously ask why is what we are doing, and how we are doing it important and moving us toward the vision.  It's so easy for a church to get trapped in the motions of expending their energies, spending the majority of their resources in just "doing" without much rhyme, reason, or purpose about their action.

Maybe Aly is going to be a church planter one day.  Or, perhaps part of the new reformation of people who are asking that great question, Why do we do church the way(s) we do?  Why are we doing the programs, ministries, rituals, budgets, staffing, buildings, and on and on it goes...  How is it helping us achieve the one and only mission of the Church - To make disciples for Jesus? 

Why are you digging that hole Pop?  Thanks Aly for keeping me reminded of making the main thing the main thing, and not getting so caught up in the hole, that I forget I'm building a fence...

Fun at the Dentist...

I've always had this dental-phobia - Since I was a little boy I have been fearful of going to the dentist for any reason -  from a simple cleaning to the dreaded root canal.  Maybe it's fitting that I have a son, Massey,  who is a pediatric dentist and I'm a big old baby when it comes to going to the dentist.  I guess I could dissect that one for a while... But I digress.

I spent the morning with Dr. Jack Gentry and his assistant, Vera, finishing off a crown they prepared me for a couple of weeks ago on my first visit because of a broken tooth.  I usually see Dr. Earl Adkisson of the same practice [We share a grandson together, Eli], but Earl was off cruising with his wife, Brenda when the tooth broke, so - Dr. Jack it was.

He did a great job, and did everything as as painlessly as I've experienced, but, that fear of the dental chair seems to continue to over-ride my rational understanding that it's really not that big of a deal.  My palms were sweaty, and my eyes stayed riveted to Dr. jack's hands with every move during the procedure.

I think I've figured out that I'm just sort of a control freak in many ways, and, when I'm in that dental chair, I am just about as out of control as I could imagine -- And, that guy above me has very sharp instruments in my mouth exerting some pretty heavy force at times - One slip and... 

OK - There, I've admitted it  I'm a control freak, big-baby, dental-phobe who endured the morning's procedure with as much dignity as I could possibly muster.  Thank you Dr. Jack and Vera for helping this big old scardycat stay as comfortable as possible while you got me fixed up and on my way...

From a Director's Desk

I've always tried to keep my desk clean and tidy -- Until, that is, I realized the nature of my new work as executive director of New Church Development --

I love my new position in that not only is there not a day that's the same, but, no hour is the same.  I might be building a demographic report one hour, talking to one of our church planters the next, then, meeting with a district superintendent or another director the next hour.  My day is filled with phone calls, emails, meetings with a variety of different people concerning church planting - Briefings from staff members, conversations with my equivalent directors from other conferences, immigration issues with some of our pastors from other countries, conversations with Realtors about some of the land we hold in our conference, and, some of the land we'd like to have for future use - On, and on, hour after hour of new and fulfilling tasks and experiences... 

But, back to that desk - it's virtually impossible to keep it as tidy as I'm accustomed since I've got a number of things happening simultaneously in any of those given hours that necessitates having the information readily available and accessible.    I suppose I'll learn to live with the clutter, and to embrace the fact it represents the exciting world of a new church director...

A Morning With Coy Hinton

I had the privilege of spending most of yesterday morning with Coy Hinton, District Superintendent of the Atlanta College Park District of our annual conference.   We started the meeting off bright and early (Well, actually just early since the sun hadn't fully risen yet).  Coy treated me to a great breakfast @ Thumbs Up - They  make it like you order it!  We then did a ride-around through the southern part of his district.

I was blessed to hear how much Coy knew his district, and moved at how much he loved each church, pastor and congregation - He shared about them all as we passed by as if they were his precious grandchildren - And I know how much he loves the grandkids from the thousand pictures of them he proudly displays in his office.

Coy and I were looking at possible places to start new missions and new churches - I was amazed how the tri-city area of College Park, Hapeville, and East Point is developing, and, realized we NEED some presence in that area to reach the quickly growing Hispanic population!!

We drove down toward the south end of the district on Old national Hwy where we have a 12-acre plot of land right in the middle of an area booming with population growth - We need to revitalize our efforts and establish a new UMC congregation to reach the thousands in that area for Christ!

Coy bought me a cup of coffee at the McDonald's and claimed it was as good as Starbucks - That's the only thing Coy and i disagreed on the whole morning  I wasn't, let's say, Mc-Lovin' the coffee...

You're Doing that Wrong...

I dropped by the pool at the YMCA yesterday for a quick swim, and, only after I had put on my swimsuit, locked my stuff in the locker, and headed toward the pool, did I find out the pool was closed due to one of the "Y" campers throwing up in the pool -- Bad for me, but I'd imagine a much worse experience for the poor kid who's summer camp memories will include the "pool incident"...

Well, I always carry a pair of shorts, shirt and shoes for such occasions, and typically jump on a treadmill or one of the exercise bikes - But I'm already ahead on both running and biking for the week, and have a couple more of each of those disciplines on the schedule, so, I decide to hit the weight room to salvage something from the time to drop by and get dressed to workout.

Now, I'm not a weight lifter - Never have been, and don't foresee being one anywhere in the near future - Usually, all the swim, bike, and run training keeps me in good enough shape as to not necessitate all that grunting and straining on the weights.  But, I did a few curls, presses, etc, etc, and finally worked my way around to the ab-machine.

I do about a zillion sit-ups a day, so I figured the ab machine would suffice for a few of those.  I jumped on, proceeded to "pump" my abs, when...  A little old lady  [Yes.  She was really little, and... really old] came up to me and unceremoniously said, You're doing that wrong.  What!  I sort of instinctively responded.  Without any explanation or smalltalk she quickly repeated in the same monotone fashion, You're doing that all wrong.  You're not supposed to bend your arms.  See that picture? [The one we seasoned athletes need bother studying]  Do it just like that.  Don't bend your arms, and go all the way down, and all the way back.  Then, just as quickly as she had entered my workout-world, she was gone -  Disappeared into the sea of machines, I suppose to go help some other poor lost soul.

I looked around at the people who had witnessed my correction, and noticed that they tried to act like they hadn't seen me so put in my place by the little old gym-rat.  I thought about how to proceed, and weighed the options - I could run crying like a third grade girl - I could fall over and fake some sort of seizer that would surely explain my lack of understanding how to properly use the machine -I could keep doing it the way I was, wrong as it had been - Or, now here's a thought, I could listen to the old gal and correct my ways and start from scratch doing it right.  I chose the latter... and got a really good ab workout.

I guess that's the choice we all have in life - There are times when we are just not doing it correctly - And, if we're blessed enough, maybe we can have someone interrupt us just long enough to let us know we're not doing things right (or, maybe healthily).  We can pretend they've hurt us, and cry to anybody who will listen - We can ignore them and keep doing the same things with the same results - Or, just maybe, we can wise up and listen to their counsel and correct our ways - As embarrassing as it may be, as awkward as we may feel - As inconvenient and offensive as it may seem - All in order to get on track and make use of this precious little thing we call life...

I'm thankful for my little old gym lady, and the many of her kind throughout my life who cared enough about me and my future to honestly say, You're doing that wrong... See the picture?  Now here's how to do it better.

When Worlds Converge

Monday night my sister called me to tell me my mother had been taken to the emergency room with severe chest pains. Two long nights in the hospital, two days and two hospital transfers later, she's doing fine after receiving two stints for blocked arteries.    But a strange two plus days it was.

I've been in this same situation with many families over the years, so the whole medical process was something I was familiar with - the terminology, procedures, time-lines, and so forth were pretty common fare (Even if it was MY mother and not someone else's).  But, one thing I noticed is how all of my worlds converged in these two days - My family world - work world - church world - friendship world - All coming together because of this one episode...

I am so appreciative for the phone calls, emails, text messages, and even visits I received during these past couple of days from so many people from different parts of my life.  And I'm  relieved that when my worlds came together they were compatible, cohesive, and congruent with one another.

We've all heard of those people who are living double lives - Those stories of people that stun us when something happens to reveal that they have had a secret life totally disassociated from the one we all knew - Utterly foreign - Completely other...

My mind can't fully comprehend all of that, and I cannot imagine having a compartment of my life that is so foreign to the rest, that, when somehow converged, was incompatible - I wonder how someone could ever get their life in the position where such incongruence might lurk...

Perhaps it's an inconsistency of values in their life - The things they say they believe somehow not compatible with the lifestyle they are actually living in one or two of those compartments - Maybe allowing them to be influenced in an area of their life that just doesn't jive with the rest of their worlds - I guess it can be a lot of things, and, probably a compilation of things - But, it is sad to think how many people are walking around living in multiple worlds, that, someday, not if, but when, will converge in an explosion that will surely damage not only them, but all the people in all their worlds in an adverse and harmful way...