Top Five Tuesday -- Top Five "Live" Rock Songs

Live albums are admittedly a mixed bag.

All too often they feature poor quality sound, tired arrangements of familiar songs, and a longing for the original, "studio" recording.

I still remember disappointment at the Moody Blues anemic Caught Live Plus Five.  Get the concept?  A recording of a Moody Blues concert plus five brand new songs!  It was one of those cases where the concept was greater than the reality.

Yet every so often, a song -- or an entire album -- overcomes the genre.  What results is a live recording that either improves an existing song or remakes it entirely.

So here below are five that in my experience -- and for my tastes -- have done just that:

5.  I Want You To Want Me, by Cheap Trick.  I personally never believed a  Cheap Trick song would ever appear on one of my Top Five Tuesday lists, but you have to admit that they put the phrase "live at Budokan" in the vernacular.



4.  Jailbreak, by Thin Lizzy.  Thin Lizzy is a much under-rated band and Jailbreak a much under-rated song.  I miss Phil Lynott's voice.



3.  Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash.  Has there ever been a better way to intro a song than "hello, I'm Johnny Cash." 



2.  I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For by U2.  I always knew that Still Haven't Found was at its heart a gospel song.  Then the backing of a gospel choir during the movie Rattle & Hum removed all doubt.  I still get goose bumps when Bono answers the choir's entrance with an elated, "All right!"  A sublime reinvention of an already beautiful song.



1.  Take It To The Limit by the Eagles.  Speaking of goose bumps, the musical crescendo coupled with Randy Meisner's falsetto at the song's finale gets me every time.  I saw and heard this song live at the very first concert I ever went to -- Fort Worth, Texas, 1977 -- and remember the awe Meisner's voice created in the audience.  The recording on the Eagles Live album captures the moment almost perfectly.  When Glenn Frey says at the end, "Very good, Randy" you've just got to agree. 

Once Saved Always Saved, Eternal Security, And The Book Of Hebrews

In the middle of preaching the sermon yesterday, I realized I was stepping into some people's hallowed ground.

Here's what I mean.

Our Baptist friends have a teaching called Once Saved, Always Saved.  Our Reformed & Presbyterian friends believe the same thing and call it Eternal Security. 

(If the fact that Baptists call it Once Saved, Always Saved and Presbyterians call it Eternal Security doesn't tell you everything you  need to know about the difference in style between Baptists and Presbyterians, nothing will.)

So what is this one doctrine with two names?  The teaching that once a person accepts salvation by grace through faith in Christ, he or she cannot lose it.  That person is always saved, continually protected by God's sovereign grace, and eternally secure. 

A person can neither lose nor deny what was given by grace.

If a person who gives verbal testimony of salvation at some point later rescinds that same testimony (denies the faith), our Baptist and Reformed friends generally offer one of two explanations:  1) the original conversion & confession was not genuine; or 2) the person will be ultimately be "saved" and go to heaven after death, all based on that one time (much earlier) confession of faith.

A number of Scriptures support Once Saved, Always Saved, including Romans 8:38-39, John 10:28-29, and I Corinthians 3:10-15.

Charles Stanley has written one of the most influential books on the subject.  You can check it out here.

Finally, proponents of this view use the analogy of childbirth & family: once a child is born into a family, they cannot be unborn out of it.  In the same way, the thinking goes, once a person is born again into the family of God, they cannot be unborn out of it.

So Eternal Security has an impressive list of adherents, a cross-section of Scriptures to buttress it, and a powerful analogy most of us can relate to.

But then . . . the book of Hebrews steps in. 

Time after time after time, it seems, the book challenges the thinking behind eternal security -- that a genuinely saved person can never fall out of that saving relationship.

First, there's Hebrews 2:1: We must pay more careful attention, therefore, to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away.   A warning against drifting away.

Then Hebrews 3:12:  See to it, brothers, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God.    A stronger warning aginst turning away.

Next, Hebrews 6:4-8:  4 It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, 5 who have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the coming age, 6 if they fall away, to be brought back to repentance, because[a] to their loss they are crucifying the Son of God all over again and subjecting him to public disgrace.  Everything in vv. 4-5 -- enlightened, tasting the heavenly gift, sharing in the Holy Spriti, tasted the goodness of the word & the powers of the coming age -- cries out, "Christian!"  So why would the Christian of vv. 4-5 receive such a stern warning against "falling away" in v. 6 if it were not possible for them to do so?  Now:  the rest of  v. 6 brings about a slew of interpretive issues . . . but that's another blog for another time.

Finally, Hebrews 10:26-27, the place I stepped yesterday in my sermon:  If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, ²⁷ but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God.  The "we" of verse 26 is the key . . . it is a sermon to insiders, a message of warning to believers, and it is consistent with Hebrews' dire admonitions against falling away.

And how does this drifting away, turning away, falling away happen, according to Hebrews?  Does it come with a single moment of denying faith in Christ -- what most people refer to as apostasy?  Or does it come as a result of gradual yet escalating sinful rebellion against the God who saved your soul?

On that question -- perhaps the question in this dilemma -- Hebrews offers baffling silence.  Could the answer be "yes" to both?

So if I as a preacher cannot hold at the same time a belief in Eternal Security and a trust in the authority of the book of Hebrews, what am I to do? 

Thank God for Methodism.

One of the signature teachings of historic Methodism is the doctrine of assurance.  I call it the first cousin of Eternal Security. 

Assurance teaches that you can know for sure that you are saved.  That through a combination of objective evidence -- public confession of Christ -- and subjective experience -- the loving touch of the Holy Spirit -- a believer can know for sure that he or she is a child of God.

Does that mean it is impossible for that same person at some point to deny the faith?  No.  The same free will we had before conversion remains with us afterwards.

But, as Maxie Dunnam says, the question is not whether we can or can't deny the faith, the question is whether we will or won't. 

By God's grace, we won't. 

I claim and live I John 5:13 as testimony to the assurance of salvation:  I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know you have eternal life.  "Know" is the critical word there -- not "hope" or "wish" or "believe."  Know with certainty.

Since that's the gift that's offered, that's the gift I'll take.








 

Upgrade, Week 6 -- The Forever Upgrade

Kenny Chesney knows How Forever Feels.

Rod Stewart wanted to be Forever Young.  (It didn't work, by the way).

Most of us want a BFF -- a best friend forever.

But how about a Forever Upgrade?

That's this Sunday.

But be warned.  The Forever Upgrade has to be teased out of one of the most terrifying sections in all of the bible.

I can't wait.

Sunday.

8:30.  10.  11:30.

What I Wish They'd Said

I recently had a conversation with a fellow United Methodist pastor who reminded me that she had been on the denominational building committee which approved the final drawings for Good Shepherd's current Worship Center.

(That's denominational policy, by the way -- and a good one, as it keeps checks and balances between congregation and connection.)

Considering that we opened our building in May of 2005, I figure this particular meeting my friend remembered took place in late 2003 or early 2004. 

And her memories were tinged with some embarrassment.  She reminded me that the committee wanted to make sure that our Worship Center was Methodist enough. 

How do you make a worship space Methodist enough?  With appropriately colored liturgical paraments, a baptismal font, and a communion table. 

In other words, with symbols of the faith.  All things that will one day pass away.

You know what I wish they'd told us to do to make sure our worship space and worship gatherings were sufficiently Methodist?  You know what I kind of exhortations I wish they'd given me?

• Make sure you preach about prevenient grace and free will.
• Make sure you spread Scriptural holiness throughout the land.
• Make sure you remind people to flee the wrath to come.
• Make sure you offer them Christ.
• Make sure you plunge new converts into the waters of baptism.
• Make sure you teach on the Holy Spirit.
• Make sure you pray that Holy Spirit fills the people who come into that church.
• Make sure you have them leave that Worship Center and get into small groups.
• Make sure you have them sing 'loud and long.'

That kind of denominational accountability, I believe, would have been more than "Methodist enough."

Why Does "Exegete" Now Mean "Homophobe"?

Exegesis is the art and science of pulling out the meaning of a particular passage of Scripture.

The word comes from the combination of two Greek terms:  exo, which means out; and hegeisthai, a verb meaning "to lead, guide."

Exegesis is the opposite of eisegesis, which happens when the reader imports his or her previous understanding of the text in question into the interpretation.  Under eisegesis, readers take their biases and presuppositions and read them into the words of the bible rather than allowing the bible to read its own meaning out.

All that to say that someone who studies a passage carefully and then through the process of reading and research pulls out the interpretive meaning from within the text is an exegete.

All kinds of folks -- lay people, pastors, and scholars -- engage in the kind of interpretive work of an exegete.

Only these days, many serious exegetes are instead called homophobes.

I'll show you what I mean. 

Bible scholars from the earliest days of the church and continuing into today have exegeted passages such as Romans 1:18-32 and I Corinthians 6:9-20 and concluded that homosexual practice is outside God's will for the human race.

The conclusion comes from approaching those texts with an inquisitive mind and commitment to the exegetical process -- and then guiding the meaning out from the words of Scripture.

Today's experts do so with no malice, no sense of glee, no spirit of triumphalism and no gay-bashing.  Instead, after serious study, scholars such as Ben Witherington and Robert Gagnon -- hardly members of Westboro Baptist Church, those two -- remind us that if Scripture has any continuing authority over the life of the church, the church needs to teach that homosexual intimacy is not God's design for men and women.

Sadly, if you align yourself with these longstanding exegetical conclusions in 2012 you run the risk of being given that new name I mentioned earlier:  homophobe.  I've been called that on this blog.  Other pastors and professors who preach and teach sexual orthodoxy have as well.  That word -- that name -- gets flung around pretty freely in the United Methodist debate over homosexuality . . . and never to the end of elevating the conversation.

As if the serious study of and honest conclusion about Scripture means you have an irrational fear of people with same-sex attraction and behavior.

Honestly, I wish Scripture wasn't so unanimous in its lament over homosexual intercourse. 

But it is. 

So my "phobia" these days has nothing to do with homosexuality.

And everything to do with the fear that I might somehow allow my wishes to influence my exegesis.

Top Five Tuesday -- Top Five Observations From A Family Vacation

As a lot of you know, Julie, Taylor, Riley, and I spent last week together on a beach vacation. 

Yes, we're grateful, pleased, and surprised that a 22-year-old living in Atlanta and a 19-year-old home from college for the summer are still OK with spending a week with their parents.  A cynic might say that's because we paid for it.  An optimist might . . . agree.

Here we are:

Here are five random observations from our time together, some of which might apply to your vacation, others to your vocation, and still others to your religion.

1.  The role of tradition.  The four of us have stayed at the same property on every vacation we've taken since 1997 . . . we believe this was the 13th time over those 16 years.  More than that, we do the same thing on the same night every year.  Monday: BBQ at the condo.  Tuesday: eat out at Fuddruckers.  Wednesday: Miniature Golf (and these days, 50-year-old parents complaining mightily that they still have to do miniature golf).  You may call commitment to tradition a bit OCD.  Our kids call it making memories.  Change the pattern at your peril.

2.  The appeal of a good book.  Note: this is much easier when they are 22 and 19 than when they were seven and four.  Since I no longer have to spend any time pretending to dig sand castles, there's more time to read.  Frank Deford's sportswriting memoir Over Time and Gillian Floyd's mind-bending Gone Girl made the time go quickly indeed.

3.  The power of innovation.  Riley received an iPad as a gift from a college friend (crazy, right?), and so this week was my first experience with the device.  Easy to use, hard to put down, flat out brilliant.  I hated to give it back.

4. The pull of work.  Because of item #3 above, it was oh-so-easy to check emails throughout the day.  So I did.  On a couple of occasions, I was actually needed.  How did any of us ever go away without remote access email before?

5.  The gratitude for home.  No matter how good a time you have when away, there's nothing quite like driving home.  We had to check the mail, feed the cats, and mow the lawn, but those are the weekly rhythms and routines out of which the spontaneity of real life emerge.

30 Good Shepherd Missionaries In Ecuador & Haiti

As you read this post in air conditioned comfort & surrounded by the latest technology, 30 Good Shepherd missionaries are serving under-resourced persons in Ecuador and Haiti.

Both groups are working with our partners at Samaritan's Feet to distribute shoes and share the gospel as they take seriously inviting all people into a living relationship with Jesus Christ.

Our Ecuador team has 13 volunteers; here they are in action:

If you are on Facebook, you can track their trip here:  https://www.facebook.com/TeamEcuador2012



Meanwhile, there are 17 folks on the Haiti team.  Here they are shortly after arrival:

Here's the Haiti Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/HaitiTeam2012

Upgrade, Week 5 -- The Blood Upgrade

What's the saying?  Back In The Saddle?

That's what I'll be this Sunday.

After two weeks of not preaching, I'm ready to pick Upgrade back up by talking about . . . blood.

I can't wait.

The Blood Upgrade from Hebrews 9.

Sunday.

8:30.  10.  11:30.

Why I Could Never Wear A Promise Keepers Shirt

Now back in the 1990s, I loved Promise Keepers.

The stadium worship was authentically full color, the challenge to men was urgently necessary, and the response in our Mt. Carmel congregation was immediate and heartfelt. 

In our little church and around the world, Promise Keepers helped men become better followers of Jesus, better husbands, better dads, and better men.  I saw it first-hand.

But I never could wear the T-shirt.

Why?  Because of the tagline:  Men Of Integrity.

What if I got caught doing something lacking in integrity while wearing it?  Even something seemingly innocuous? 

Maybe more to the point . . . why should I wear something proclaiming my own integrity?  Isn't it better for other people to give you that label than to claim it yourself.

I guess the bottome line is this:  the louder you say it, the less I believe it.

Pastoral Confessions

Since I spent yesterday confessing songs to you that I probably shouldn't like but do anyway, I thought I'd fill in some other gaps today.

Here are some secrets I should probably keep . . . but just for today, I won't:

I wear two pair of socks to work everyday.  A pair of thick, white Thor-Los to keep my feet warm and my shoes tight and then a pair of respectably dark work socks over them.  Every day, no exceptions.

I have cottage cheese every day.

I wanted LeBron James to win.

When Jon Krakauer writes this: "Figures of male authority aroused in me a confusing medley of corked fury and a hunger to please" I know exactly what he means.

I'm much better presiding at funerals than officiating at weddings.

I sometimes look at my email Inbox and pray something new and interesting will appear.

I get frustrated and jealous when other people have better ideas than I do.

I don't think you need a graduate degree in psychology to understand that W had some Daddy Issues going on when he invaded Iraq.

My two most satisfying moments of the week: when I finish writing a sermon and when I finish mowing and edging the lawn.

I love wearing purple.

My nightmares involve an empty sanctuary on a Sunday morning.

I check my blog stats.

I sometimes get so nervous watching Roger Federer play that I turn the TV off.

My multi-tasking abilities include sending emails while in the middle of long phone conversations.

I still root for Tiger Woods.

Top Five Tuesday -- Top Five Songs I Shouldn't Like . . . But I Do

Every once in awhile, you come across a song that's a guilty pleasure.

You secretly love it but you know that if word got out, there would be no end to the ridicule.

Well, the word's getting out today.  Make fun of me if you must, but please respect my honesty.

Here they are:  five songs I shouldn't like . . . but I do.

5.  Seasons In The Sun, by Terry Jacks.  Can you even say the name of the song with a straight face?  Probably not.  But hearing it takes me back to sixth grade, going "steady" with a girl named Ellen, and thinking I had it all figured out.  Where have you gone, Terry Jacks?



4.  I Got A Feelin', by The Black Eyed Peas.  I hate dancing.  And this song makes me want to dance.



3.  Hey, Hey, My, My (Into The Black), by Neil Young.  Neil Young is so tedious.  His politics are predictable and his voice is regrettable.  And I think I'd rather fade away than burn out.  But I can't turn this song off when it comes on.



2.  Music Box Dancer, by Frank Mills.  What's an instrumental song doing anywhere on a list of favorite songs, guilty pleasure or not?  Especially an instrumental with nary a hint of guitar on it?  Well, this one is so . . . soothing.  Plus, it takes me back to when I was 17, had a gigantic crush on a girl named Jennifer who I prayed would like me back, and was sure this song would be "ours."  Unfortunately, she never returned the favor or the affection and so now as then the song is all "mine."



1.  Hey Ya, by Outkast.  I like a song featuring a guy named Andre 3000?  Absolutely.  I bet you do, too.

The History Of Rock & Roll In 100 Riffs

If you speak the language of rock guitar, you'll love this video from the Chicago Music Exchange.  Two million hits and counting:



I'm amazed -- and a little embarrassed -- that I know so few of the riffs after #70.

Upgrade, Week Four -- The Access Upgrade

God is so good.

He takes series that I'm not sure about and does much more than I expect.

That's been the case with Upgrade.

Face it:  Hebrews is a difficult book.

So the messages have been complex and challenging both to deliver and to digest.

And yet people have responded.  It's good to know that people hunger for the Word even in the middle of the summer.

And this week's message deals with some of the most thrilling words anywhere in the bible -- draw near to God.  Check it out at Hebrews 10:19-25.

The Access Upgrade.

Sunday.

8:30.  10.  11:30.

The Purpose Of A Sermon Manuscript

As a lot of you know, I write a sermon manuscript virtually every week.

I am able to work several weeks ahead, so while I write one almost every week, it's not the one I'll deliver that coming Sunday.  That one, of course, has been written several weeks earlier.

But what's the purpose of a sermon manuscript?  Why write so much of what you are going to say?

The purpose of a manuscript is to disappear.

Yes, the manuscript gets prepared for, typed out, looked at, and prayed over all so that it may get out of the way.

Because, as many of you know, while I write the sermons out I end up delivering them without any notes.

I heard a seminary professor say one time "write your sermon out and then leave the paper in your office when preach."  I've taken that to heart for 23 years.

There are two reasons why this process works for me:

1.  I think to talk.  People come in two shapes:  those who talk to think and those who think to talk.  Some people process their thoughts while verbalizing them; if you're kind you call them loquacious and if you're feeling less charitable you call them long talkers.  I cannot think to talk -- it's why I'm a poor debater and an even worse "arguer."  I'm simply not quick on my feet and only after a heated argument think "Doh!  That's what I should have said!" 

Other people process their thoughts before verbalizing.  This is my natural wiring.  If I were to preach "off the cuff" my messages would wander around trying to find something interesting to say and never arrive.  So I think -- and pray and prepare and write -- before I talk.

2.  I internalize rather than memorize.  The time I spend with a manuscript the week before delivery is NOT to memorize it.  It's to internalize.  There's a huge difference.   A memorized sermon comes off as an actor reading lines from an invisible script.  An internalized sermon is one that inhabits the preacher's very being all week long.  I pray that by internalizing the message I know and live the things the Scripture says and the things that I can't wait to say from that Scripture.  On a given Sunday I will say most but not all of what was written down . . . as well as a few things that weren't written anywhere.  But that carefree sponataneity is only possible in the context of careful preparation.

So the reason I spend all that time writing a manuscript is so that when the time comes, it will be long gone.

Ann Patchett And The Art Of Sermonizing

If you've been following this blog at all, you know that I'm an enormous fan of the fiction of Ann Patchett.  State Of Wonder and Bel Canto are two of the most beautiful and most engaging novels I've read in years.

In The Getaway Car, a little e-reader memoir where she gives readers a window into her writing, Patchett says this:

Art stands on the shoulders of craft, which means to to get to the art, you must master the craft.


In Patchett's world, that means authors who yearn to write great novels must write.  And write.  And write.  Only when the craft of writing is down does the art of a novel -- a good one -- emerge.

As I mentioned on Monday, an effective sermon works along the same lines as a song -- verse, chorus, verse, chorus.  In other words, it is in some respects a work of art.

How, then, does a preacher get to the place where his or her sermon can operate on the level of art?

By mastering the craft.  By preparing, praying, and preaching.  And then doing it again.

When the congregation appears uninterested.  Preparing, praying, preaching.

When the congregation is oppositional.  Doesn't appear oppositional; it is oppositional.  Preparing, praying, preaching.

When the congregation is hurting.  Preparing, praying, preaching.

When the congregation is, blessedly, hungry for the next word from God.  Preparing, praying, preaching.

When the congregation is at the crest of a wave and the momentum is inescapable.  Preparing, praying, preaching.

Do it enough, do it relentlessly, and every once in awhile what comes out on a Sunday morning will be even more than a sermon; it will be a work of God-honoring and God-inspired art.

Top Five Tuesday -- Top Five Responses To Preaching

We preachers value the responses that people have to our preaching.

After all, most of us didn't go into this so that our words could vanish into thin air, never to be heard, much less considered, again. 

Yet even the best preachers (so I'm told) get all kinds of different responses and reactions to their messages.  Here are just a few . . .

5.  People hear what someone else has said.  At least once a month someone will say to me, "Well, it's like you said in that sermon one time . . . " and then quote something I don't even believe much less ever said.  A few weeks ago it was a version of the "God helps those who helps themselves" that I supposedly preached one time.  I usually smile and nod, and rarely correct.

4.  People hear what more -- or less -- than you said.  On a recent Sunday, someone offered me effusive thanks for words I'd uttered the previous week, saying how much that language had helped her in the intervening seven days.  That same morning, another person let me know in a gentle way that those same words (same section of the same sermon!) brought her some pain and discomfort.  People hear what preachers say through the lens of their own experience and expectations -- and we who preach need to be ever mindful of that reality.

3.  People hear what you say and disregard it.  Oh well.  We just want to make sure that if people do cast what we say aside, they're missing out on something that would have benefitted their lives.

2.  People hear what you say and repeat it back to you later.  Of course, we love it when this happens . . . especially when the "repeat-back" is accurate.  I have found this to be much more the case with a one-point sermon than with my older method of having three or four emphases per Sunday.

1.  People hear what you say and embrace it into their lives.  Tempers get controlled, wallets get opened, marriages get restored, forgiveness gets offered, and salvation gets received.  And that's why we preach.

Is A Sermon Like A Song . . . Or Like Saturday Talk Radio?

What form of communication, exactly, is a sermon? 

Is it written or spoken?  Heard or seen?  Inspirational, educational, or informational?  Is it a work of art or a medium of instruction?

Really, does a good sermon elicit the same kind of response in a congregation as does a good song?  Connecting with mind, heart, and memory? Or is it more like listening to talk radio?  Saturday talk radio with its myriad of instructions on how to make your car ride better, your house stand stronger, and your investments mature faster.  Which is it?

These are loaded questions, to be sure.  Because a good sermon needs to have a piece of all of the elements I've mentioned -- written, spoken, audio, visual, information, and inspiration.

Yet in the way we try to design sermons around here, they do function very much like a song if they are done well.  Think about it.  A song begins with a verse, hopefully one that creates an immediate visual image in the mind's eye of the hearer:

I got the call today, I didn't wanna hear

But I knew that it would come
An old true friend of ours was talkin' on the phone
She said you found someone
And I thought of all the bad luck,
And all the struggles we went through
How I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside love's open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?

The role of the verse?  So that hearers will say or think to themselves, "I know what that's like.  I've been there."

So it is with the opening moments of a sermon.  The preacher begins a journey with the congregation and at various points along the way invites people to join him in a common experience.  When I preach, this is most often the "someone here . . . " section of the message.

Back to the song.  A good song has a memorable chorus ... even if you don't know all the verses to your favorite song(s), you know the chorus.  Like this one for me which follows the verse from above:

I've been learning to live without you now

But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning them again
I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore

Choruses that are well done stick.  The Heart Of The Matter, Don Henley's song I'm using here, is 23 years old and I'll never forget its plaintive, forgiveness-seeking refrain.

It's the same with a one-point sermon, the type we preach most often at Good Shepherd. After establishing the common ground with the "verse" section and then studying the Scripture for the day to get God's perspective on our shared human dilemma, we try to communicate the salient truth in a way that connects.  That's memorable.  That's sticky.

We even call that point the "Refrain" in preaching.  Coming up with a Refrain phrase that's memorable, faithful to Scripture, helpful to life, and, potentially saving to souls is neither easy nor quick.  It's hard, time-consuming work that's generally worth the effort.   Some of the refrains we've had here recently include:

Jesus exposes who you are so you will discover who he is.

What you hide in order to have will come back to haunt you.

The favorites you play will play you.

What you tolerate today will dominate you tomorrow.

When Jesus builds your house, the upgrades are free.

So there's a reason good music intersects with your spirit and your memory in a way a good edition of "Car Talk" never can.  The verses bring you in and and the chorus brings it home.

We pray the same is true of preaching at Good Shepherd and elsewhere in the kingdom.

---------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Here's The Heart Of The Matter:

Mom Publishes Story

My mother, Betty X. Davis, just published a story called "The Last Bicycle" in the July/August edition of Spider Magazine, a highly regarded periodical for children.

Set in the French town of Uzaire in the waning days of World War II, "The Last Bicycle" weaves together a young boy named Jacques, an American soldier from Texas, and a treasured bicycle into a tale of loss, sacrifice, serendipity, and restoration.

While it is quite an accomplishment to have a short story published anywhere these days, I suppose you could say it's not altogether unique.

After all, lots of people's mothers have published short stories.  I daresay that even some preacher's mothers have published fiction.

What makes this one noteworthy?

The fact that my mother published the story at the age of 96.  Ninety-six.  One hundred minus four. 

As in born in 1915 and getting stories published in 2012.

Actually, I'm not sure how she fits writing into her schedule, packed as it is with tennis matches, speaking engagements, and family gatherings. 

In other words, a daily routine quite unlike any other 96-year-old I've ever heard of.

Here she is, at far left of picture, with some of her Texas-based writer friends:

Top Five Tuesday -- Top Five 4th Of July Memories

In preparation for tomorrow's annual observance of Independence Day, I thought that I'd take a retrospective look at what the Fourth of July celebrations have been like through the years.

1.  When I was 5 and watching a fireworks show at a local golf course . . . I was TERRIFIED.  I remember crying throughout the entire show, no doubt ruining the experience for my parents, siblings, and anyone else within hearing distance.

2.  When I was 12 and travelled to the Bay Area to compete in national-level tournaments I was . . . FREEZING.  Think of it: I left Texas in July -- meaning daily temperatures of 100 degrees plus.  I had always been told that the west coast was sunny and warm.  And then I arrived in northern California and learned first hand what Mark Twain said:  "the coldest winter I ever had was a summer in San Francisco."  No wonder I played so badly!

3.  When I was 24 and returned to Dallas for a brief family vacation I was . . . NOSTALGIC.  In the summer of 1986, Julie and I flew from New Jersey for a couple of days in my hometown.  While there, we went to a 4th of July Parade featuring Steve Kanaly, the actor who played Ray Krebs on Dallas.  At that stage, I'd take any celebrity sighting I could get.

4.  When I was 40, recently moved to Charlotte and celebrating the 4th by going to a nearby Charlotte Knights game with my family I was . . . CLAUSTROPHOBIC.  The stands were packed, the game was minor league, the parking was a nightmare, the heat was oppressive, and the fireworks were underwhelming.  Think that's why we haven't been back for a Fourth since?

5.  When I'm 50 and acting juvenile by shooting fireworks off in the the driveway of some neighbor-friends, I'm . . . CONTENT.  I don't cry at fireworks anymore, I don't have to battle traffic in the subdivision, and I'm in a city that's very much home surrounded by family and friends I love. What could be better?

Sermon, Interrupted

About every twelve months or so, we have a medical emergency during one of the worship gatherings at Good Shepherd.

Over the years, we have had mild strokes, cardiac distresses, diabetic episodes, and fainting spells.

It happened again yesterday at 11:30, as a dear woman lost consciousness just as I began the sermon.

So what do you do as a preacher?

Well, the worst thing you can do is pretend it's not happening.

The best thing you can do is remember your sermon is not the most important thing in the world in that particular moment; helping a woman get restored to health is.

So I stopped the sermon as soon as I noticed the activity around our friend, asked any medical personnel in the room to come forward to offer assistance,  invited the rest of the congregation to pray over the situation, and confirmed that staff had called 911.

The medical professionals in the room were superb -- quick on their feet, unselfish in their attitudes, and professional in their actions.  They stabilized the patient and kept her family calm until the EMS crew arrived.

As part of the prayer, I also invited the people in the room to point their palms towards the ailing woman and those working on her.  Linking a mental activity such as prayer with the physical action of palm pointing seems to help with focus and passion.

A sermon interrupted by a medical emergency is a marvelous opportunity to test what kind of community you are creating.  In this case, the people of Good Shepherd showed themselves again to be a people of prayer, patience, and compassion.  I couldn't be more proud.

The woman's condition stabilized and improved as we prayed.  Eventually, the EMS team entered the Worship Center, placed our Good Shepherd friend on a gurney, and whisked her away to a local hospital where, as of this morning, she rests comfortably.

I remained on the floor (instead of returning to the elevated platform) and delivered a truncated version of the sermon I'd started fifteen minutes earlier.  It was much more casual and conversational than what I had preached at 8:30 and 10:00, but I pray it was a form that fit the moment.

Most importantly for the overall theme of the day, we were still able to hand out our Upgrade CD -- an audio recording of thirteen different people from the church reading the book of Hebrews out loud.  The CD is a way to emphasis Sunday's bottom line from Hebrews 2:1:  The Only Savior Demands The Greatest Attention.

That's a point that remains true -- medical emergency or not.