They Never Told Me...

...how to prepare for a church service. Now I'm not talking about the sermon preparation, although that can be a challenge in and of itself. Some Ministers love the study, the note-making, the digging. Others love the presentation, getting in front of the crowd, preaching the Word. It seems most Ministers love either the preparation or the presentation, but one of the two is often a little more difficult than the other for most of us. There are times when I really get inspired in the preparation, but mostly I love the presentation.

But, how does one prepare himself for the service itself. The normal and most common activity of many Ministers is to pray until the moment it's time to walk onto the stage. Some ascend the stage, as it is practically named, or more technically, the pulpit, as the music begins. Some pray in some secluded room until the music has ended and the announcements have concluded, then grandly make an appearance. I'm sure it is not nearly as important just when one arrives, as long as he/she is ready and prepared.

Many churches have a Prayer Team, an invaluable team, and I do not say that lightly, who intercedes for the Pastor and the service before and/or during the service. My Prayer Teams always felt it was important for me to join them in our Prayer Room just prior to the service. I tried to accommodate them as I knew it was important.

For me, and I say this knowing that it does not have to hold equally true for everyone, I found myself frustrated and confined in feeling it mandatory to participate every week with this Team. It actually distracted me from my readiness. I'm not against prayer, by any means, but I had already prayed. I had spent the week in prayer asking for God's anointing and guidance. I was ready. I still needed their prayer, their intercessory prayer, for me. The crux of intercession is to pray for another, isn't it? I needed that; I just didn't need to be present always.

After many years of trying to understand my own emotions and needs in this area of preparation, I came to realize that what I most needed right before the service was some face time with our members. I'm a people person. I need conversation, connection, laughter, stories. I had to make connections with the people I most cared for. I just had to satisfy my need to see and be seen. Once I had my people-fix, I was ready to go. It took some time for my Prayer Team to understand and accept my needs, but once they did, I was a free man, and we all understood how to dovetail our needs together.

Maybe this all sounds a bit narcissistic, but, hey, it is what it is. A Pastor at our church just blogged ( A DAY IN THE LIFE WITH PK: NARCISSISM ) about the narcissistic tendencies our modern world of communications - FaceBook, Blogs, Twitter, etc - has produced. He and I decided to become the founding members of the FELLOW NARCISSISTS CLUB.

Currently, Membership applications are being accepted. The only prerequisite is that you understand we all have a little (or a lot) of self to which we must die. "Nevertheless, I live, and the life which I now live, I live in Christ..."

They Never Told Me About Elder Fights...

We studied Biblical Leadership. We went to Leadership Seminars and Workshops. We read books on Leadership. We watched as mentors dealt with their own church Elders and Deacons. But, still, no one can prepare you for the battles that spontaneously break out when passionate men and women feel strongly about church direction with opposing opinions.

There is an adage that Pastors should never surround themselves just with "Yes Men". I believe that is true, but I have also discovered that every Pastor needs someone who is in agreement and in tune with his heart and vision. It is healthy to have leaders who agree with you. I propose that every Pastor needs a couple of "Yes Men", because it is a given understanding that every Pastor will, without fail, have plenty of "No Men".

Dallise's Dad was a Pastor. In one church he served, the Deacons drove past his house one night and fired a rifle into his house. It happened to be fired into Dallise's bedroom. Fortunately she had not yet gone to bed and no one was hurt, but that's a pretty serious "Deacon Problem".

I have been blessed with some very good leaders and advisers along the way. We still have blessed friendships with many of them. One of those Elders whom I still call my dear friend and with whom I still communicate is Ronnie. He and I have stood toe-to-toe in the church building locked in an intense verbal disagreement. After 30 minutes, we had still not come to an agreement, but we embraced and parted company, both still passionate about our own view of the circumstances.

This "intense fellowship" was not uncommon between the two of us, but we always came back together over lunch at the local hometown restaurant or to play golf. I knew he had my back when the times were tough and he knew I always valued his opinion and input.

There are more stories about Ronnie, but to relate them now means that I would be telling the story according to my own flawed recollections. His memory may recall different details about the same story, and the next thing you know, we would be on the phone arguing over whose version is the most accurate.

Bottom line is that "Yes Men" or "No Men", we all need each other. I have learned to appreciate the divine tension that exists between men consumed by God's calling. So, Ronnie, and all the others with whom I have been privileged to minister, here's to you, the salt of the earth.

A Wife Who Keeps Me Straight...

There was a generation of Pastors who were expected to have musically talented wives who would complement the Pastors' preaching skills through the music ministry. They were hired as a package, though the wife was generally never compensated monetarily.

Dallise, my wife, has a degree of music competency. In fact, she has a great heart for leading worship, and has led in various seasons of our pastoral ministry. However, it is not her passion and it is not the greatest asset she brings to the churches I've pastored.

She is wonderfully able to take my big picture-no detail plans and turn them into organized success. For example, it is common that I might step onto the stage on a Sunday morning and announce to the church, with no prior warning to Dallise, that we are going to have a church dinner on a certain date. When we get home, she asks, "Who is going to bring the food, the drinks, the plates, the condiments?" In other words, what about the details? My answer is always that it will just work out, but she knows better. So she gets busy with the list making, the delegating, the planning; and it always results in a fabulous event, all because of her.

But, I have to say the most fun and most humorous assistance she brings to the church family is her insistence in keeping me on track. I'm a storyteller and have a tendency to travel far afield from my sermon point as I chase one rabbit trail after another.

Dallise has always sat just to the right of center aisle on the second pew. She knows me all too well and early on developed her own series of subtle hand signals to get me back on point. Because I often ignored her subtleties, she was forced to become more and more overt in getting my attention. As a result, every church we have pastored picked up on her signals and many, if not most, of the congregants soon joined her in giving me the "fingers-slashed-across-the-throat" signal. This signal is universally recognized as the "cut" sign, meaning stop the current thought; it is not appropriate to go there. Or maybe you can visualize her "rolling-the-hand-in-circular-motion-in-front-of-her-face" signal, meaning move it along, pick up the pace.

Alas, I may have never finished a sermon or a Bible Study in our Small Group if it were not for her signals, although once again in Small Group all the members have joined her in keeping me on track.

What a wife! I love her and need her. She keeps me straight!

What about any of you other ministers? What signals do you get from your wives intended to keep you straight?

They Never Told Me I Might Not Have An Office.

This morning, I read a FaceBook note from one of the Pastors at our church, saying that his office is packed and he will probably be working from home a few days. His office is being repainted and re-carpeted.

I think it's great that he is getting a fresh makeover for the place where Sermons are formed and refined, prayer battles are waged and won and personal counseling encourages and restores. To be comfortable in such a setting is important and vital.

It made me think about my excitement leaving Bible College in 1975 and going to my first position as Assistant Pastor to my Father-In-Law. I was already dreaming of my office and all the miraculous ministry that would flow from that environment. I couldn't wait to get in there and furnish it naturally and spiritually.

The church had a recently built new facility and there were quite a few unfinished rooms. As luck would have it for this "Dreamer of Offices", there were no finished offices as of yet. So, it turns out that my first office was a shared room with my Father-In-Law. Not only did we share an office, we also shared an 8-ft folding table as a desk. He worked on one end; I worked on the other. It was quite a setup, but we made it work.

I eventually did get an office of my own and even my own desk. Through the next 30+ years, I have shared offices, worked from hallway offices, had small spartan offices and large well appointed offices and home offices and attic offices and basement offices. Of course, as you would imagine, it turns out in the end that while offices are necessary and conducive to good ministry, the bottom line is that Sermons are formed and refined first in the heart. Prayer battles are waged and won in every environment in which people live and struggle. Encouragement and restoration happens wherever the Word of the Lord is fitly spoken, even from my current desk sitting unenclosed and exposed in the middle of a bank lobby where I work as a Personal Banker.

I miss my own church office at times while in this different season of my life working and ministering at a bank. One great Revivalist wrote, "The world is my pulpit." A Circuit Riding preacher said, "The saddle is my pulpit." So, I say, "The world is my office, " and I am happy to know I'll never be without an office.

By the way, the Pastor I referred to in the opening paragraph would no doubt gladly give up his freshly painted and re-carpeted office to minister anywhere and everywhere there are hungry souls.

They Never Told Me About Going To Jail.

When I was a teenager and dating Dallise, I left her house late one night going home on back country roads in South Georgia. I got pulled over by a policeman who jumped out of his car with his pistol drawn and pointed over the top of his car door. He screamed at me to put my hands on top of my car and spread my legs. I was in no position to argue, so I did exactly what he said, but thinking this was obviously a mistake. He said I was speeding and resisting arrest, though I explained I never saw his flashing lights in my rearview mirror. Notwithstanding they escorted me back to the police station and after making a somewhat convincing argument, they let me go with a fine.

It was many years later that I was again arrested and spent two nights in the Birmingham, AL jail. Our church was participating in Operation Rescue. We planned to stage a sit-in on a particular weekend to block the doors of abortion clinics, hoping to save a few babies who might otherwise have been aborted those days. There were four Pastors on staff and it was decided that we should not all participate on Friday in case the police held the arrestees through the whole weekend. One of us would need to be available to lead the Sunday service. I was the elected hold-out for the Friday Rescue. As expected everyone was arrested by mid-morning, men and women and teenagers. But they were released late Friday night, so I was free to do the sit-in the next day. I was arrested fairly early, my hands cuffed behind my back with the tough white plastic zip cuffs, shoved into the paddy wagon with a few others and hauled off to the county jail.

It had been decided that we would take no personal ID with us and that we would each give our name as "John Doe"when booked in. It was thought this might drag out the process a bit and perhaps attract more media attention to the effort. We were all placed in a large common room with 5'x7' individual cells surrounding the perimeter. We were not in with the general population of the jail; we were isolated only with our group, so we certainly felt no danger. We were free to talk, fellowship, pray and read our Bibles together, which we did. It really was turning into just a nice day with other Believers.

We were given an evening meal, then shortly afterward guards escorted each of us to our own individual cells. When the big metal door slammed shut behind me, it no longer seemed to be a day of fellowship. I was wondering why we were not released like the group the day before, but then remembered we had not given our real names and the police were not going to be so easy on us. The cot which stretched from wall to wall in my cell had no sheet, just a hard plastic mattress and no pillow. I had my own little private toilet and sink, but it was very austere.

Somehow, I finally drifted off to sleep, only to be roughly awakened about 3:00 am and dragged down the hallway by the night guard. In my sleepy state, I was having trouble focusing on where I was and why I was being treated this way in the middle of the night. The officer had realized they had failed to fingerprint me and they were going to do it now. He demanded my name, to which I replied John Doe, having finally remembered where I was and why I was there. He explained this game could be played both ways and they did not have to, and would not, release me until they had my real name and felt that I was being cooperative. In spite of the sleepy stupor hanging over me, he finally had my undivided attention. I snapped to alertness and blurted out, "Philip Goodson. That's Philip with one "L". He fingerprinted me and returned me to a fitful night of waiting for morning when I felt sure I would be released.

For whatever reasons the police had, none of us were released on that Sunday either and we all spent a second night in jail, a little less traumatic than the first. Finally, late Sunday we were bonded out upon agreeing we would not participate in Operation Rescue again for some determined period of time.

I don't really think this experience qualified as having been arrested for my faith. I certainly did not suffer and I was not persecuted or even mistreated. We did some "soft time" for taking a stand on an issue about which we felt passionate. I want to believe it made a difference in Birmingham and that a few babies might be alive today because of our actions.

But I have to say that nobody in Bible College told me I might spend a couple of nights in jail. By the way, whose idea was it that I was the one elected to wait until day two and spend two nights in the 5'x7', when everybody else on staff got to go home to their nice warm beds?

They Never Told Me About Unrighteous Indignation...

I have experienced moments of righteousness indignation. There are certain injustices that must be met with a certain extreme level of anger. It demands reaction. Jesus displayed that type of anger when he overturned the moneychangers' tables.

I think God blessed me with a pretty easygoing personality. I am not too easily angered. The problem is that easygoing personalities have a really ugly side. If pushed too far, the circumstances can devolve into UNRIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. I don't like the picture of who I am when that happens, although from the perspective of 25 years later, it does have an element of humor.

We once faced an accusation by a Grandmother of inappropriate discipline of her Grandchild in our Daycare Ministry. She was so incensed on the phone that we could not speak civilly, so I invited her to my office for further discussion. It picked up where the phone call ended, definitely not on a pleasant note.

The tension escalated until I became very defensive and ultimately stated EMPHATICALLY, "This meeting is over!!" She hotly replied, "Don't tell me when this meeting is over! I'm not finished!" At this point, I had reached the "ugly side". I slapped my hand on my desk several times demanding that she leave. When she refused, I turned off the light, walked out and shut the door behind me, leaving her in my darkened office.

Of course, she hotly pursued me still irately berating me. I followed her across our building to be sure she did not engage any of our workers, and even though she never let up on me, I had gained control of my own emotions and was relatively calm again - that is, until she whipped around right in my face. She screamed, "Don't you follow me!" That sent me right off the deep end again. I explained loudly that this was my sidewalk and so was the surrounding 5 acres and that I could walk anywhere I wanted to, violently waving my arms to accent my attitude.

As our voices climbed the decibel scale, she drew back her hand to slap me in the face. Out-yelled at this point, all I could do was lean into her pointing at my cheek, daring her to go ahead and slap the snarling cheek I presented to her. I'm sure it must have taken great restraint on her part to withhold her desire to deck me.

I distinctly remember to this day the fearful prayer coursing through my thoughts at that moment, "Dear God, She is going to knock me on the ground. My only request is that you help me not to cry when she does." For whatever reason, she did not follow her instincts to oblige my foolish offer of a free shot at my jutting law, for which I will be forever grateful.

She left, but filed an official complaint and soon a pair of police officers showed up to question me about the incident. I was more than happy to answer their queries until they read me my Miranda Rights. I have to admit that was a bit unnerving. I invoked my rights and called our attorney. Thankfully, we were able to resolve the issue without bruises or bloodshed.

The ugly side of an easygoing person is just that - UGLY! I'm mostly thankful my actions did not result in cosmetic reconstruction. I did, however, undergo a painful spiritual reconstruction and I don't think I have ever stooped quite that low again in unrighteous indignation.

Mission Trip Hot Tub Incident...

Well, I promised the story about the Hot Tub Incident. Prefacing the story, I must relate a simple fact. I have always admired Billy Graham for many reasons that are immediately obvious. He has always been represented as a man of high moral integrity. One of those reasons is his carefulness to never be placed in a compromising position with women. I have read in his autobiography that when traveling, he would never enter his hotel room unless a staff member went in first to verify there was no one there of the opposite gender.

I have also worked hard to be careful that I am in no similar position of moral question. I have made it a practice to not counsel women unless someone else was present in the building or in an outer office. I will not close a door completely if I am counseling a woman. I include Dallise or some other Christian lady in counseling if and when possible. Except on rare occasions, I do not even have lunch in public with a lady by myself. I certainly do not visit a woman at home alone. I have this whole scary, fearful, funky paranoia thing going on about this sort of encounter.

Now to the story. We were on this R&R trip with our Missionaries in Puerta Vallarta, MX. (See previous blog) About five of us from our group were lounging in the massive 30-person hot tub outside by the pool area. Dallise was sitting by a friend at the opposite end of the little half-circle we formed in the seating area. I'm chatting with one of the guys beside me on the other end of our little half-circle. I looked up to see two young "ladies" entering the hot tub. Now there was lots of room across the hot tub with plenty of distance from where we were seated, but these two girls sat down immediately to my right, immediately adjacent to me, in broad daylight, mind you.

One of them stepped directly in front of me in the water, stuck out her hand and said , "Hi, I'm _____. What's your name." I was rather flustered at this brazen approach and stammered, "I'm Philip, and that's my wife right over there." Undeterred, she asked, "Are you here for business or pleasure?" I was so befuddled, I could not even answer. One of the ladies, one of our friends sitting beside Dallise, took up my defense. While I sat in stunned speechlessness, she answered, "This is our Pastor and we're here on a Missions Trip with our church! We're holding devotions tomorrow morning. Why don't you join us?" Well, that was all that was needed to end the encounter and the two "ladies" immediately left the hot tub. By the way, the "ladies" did not attend devotions the next morning.

I was completely lost and embarrassed and consequently the target of many jokes and jibes for the remainder of the trip. When we returned home and dedicated a service to sharing the events and fruit of our trip, it seems to have been the one story told repeatedly by those who attended the "incident" with me. In future Mission Trips, I have decided it might be wise to avoid the whole hot tub scene altogether. Still, what a way to do a Mission Trip, huh?

I can't say They Never Told Us ABout Missions.

Missions was integral to the life of the Bible College we attended. What amazing times we had at Liberty Church in Pensacola when it was Missions Week! There were the most incredible stories of Mission work from Missionaries who had committed themselves to work long-term in various fields of ministry around the world. Special offerings were taken and Faith Promises for the coming year were confirmed. Dallise and I found ourselves so inspired that we promised more the first year than we actually made in income. We had to figure out the balance, however, and were a bit more realistic after that.

We have had the pleasure of leading a few short-term, 2-week trips to Guatemala and Mexico. We always wanted to inspire members who had never been to the mission field to go see first hand what their giving and prayers accomplished.

One of our church families had served for years in Jocotepec, Mexico. Several of our men had made trips down to assist the missionaries in constructing a new building. When it was finished, we were invited to participate in the dedication of the building. When I announced the trip and asked who wanted to go, the men who had been down volunteered to go again. I was disappointed that no one else was interested. The following week, the Director of Globe Missionary Evangelism, the overseeing mission organization, and I spoke about the trip. He was planning to be at the dedication and then sponsor an R&R trip for several missionaries over in Puerto Vallarta on the Pacific Coast. I offered that our church would sponsor our missionary family and join them for the trip. We would spend about 4 days at the dedication and then another few days at this fabulous resort. Next Sunday, when I announced the expanded plans that included Puerto Vallarta, we had a whole new group who was ready to go. We all went and had a great time of ministry and of rest.

Now, hardcore missionaries who go out to immerse themselves long term in the culture of the mission field thereby effecting lasting change for the Kingdom of God probably scoff at such a mission trip. It probably seems like a glorified, feel-good exercise that makes the individuals participating feel better about themselves and their altruism. They may have some valid observations from that perspective. However, I found on our trip that it was an effective way to introduce missions to Believers who had never ventured out before. Their appreciation and prayer and financial support for those who do go long term was greatly increased. Bottom line is that it's not a bad combination to bring perspective to those who had no personal experience other than listening to Missionaries speak and show their slides. (I know, I know. We now call it a PowerPoint Presentation.)

Everyone who went to Mexico with us on that trip came back with great memories. Sadly for me, the favorite story seems to have involved the Hot Tub Incident involving Yours Truly. I'll tell that story in my next blog. Stay tuned. You don't want to miss that one.

I don't know about you, but I'm ready for another mission trip, maybe to Jamaica or Hawaii this time. Who wants to go with us on this "Mission Trip"?

They Never Told Me How To Balance Ministry With Family Life.

They did tell me it was important, but there were no formulas on how to make it happen. So, I had to figure it out on my own. I'm not sure you can teach a Minister how to keep focus on Family. Every family and every ministry is so different. For me, I look back over the years with gratitude that I was an Associate Pastor for half my ministry life. As Sr Pastor the other half, I led smaller churches and was not overwhelmed with round-the-clock schedules. It seems to have taken the pressure off a bit and I could adjust my ministry schedule around personal life a little more easily.

One year on the Saturday when our church was hosting a Liberty Fellowship Winter Conference in which I had some organizational responsibility, I was able to slip out and attend basketball games for my sons. Dallise and I always made it to band concerts and football game halftime shows and sporting events and sailing events. It was hectic, but we felt it was important.

Once as Sr Pastor, I had scheduled Judson Cornwall as our guest speaker. As we neared the week of the meetings, I realized it coincided with the final game of Seth's High School basketball career. Dallise and I toyed with several ideas about how to juggle the conflicting schedules, including skipping the service that particular evening. In the end, I called Bro Cornwall to explain my dilemma and ask if he might be flexible enough to reschedule and come to our church on a different weekend. He replied that it was the most legitimate reason for a reschedule he had ever been given and graciously agreed to come later.

We have been blessed in our family. As one friend put it to us, "For parents who have done so many things wrong raising their children, they sure have turned out remarkably well." That's about all the credit Dallise and I can take. We just blundered through it all and now have every reason to be proud of our kids. Each son has married a godly wife and together they are raising their own children in Christian homes and wisely balancing their service as Leaders in their respective Churches.

We just finished a blessed Memorial Day weekend with the whole bunch of them in our home. What a delight! There are now seven Grandchildren (two in Heaven) and another due in November. You may gather from the previous statement that life is not always rosy. The sweet is mixed with the bitter, but in the end, God has triumphed in our family.

I have said often that my greatest life ministry would be reflected in our kids. That is already apparent. Who they are in God and what they will accomplish in their lives will be evident in generations to come.

Do I ever think I somehow missed out on greatness in ministry? Not a chance! The most challenging, yet rewarding ministry in which I ever engaged was with our kids. The balancing act was worth it, and I think God is just pleased in the Center of our Family.

They Never Told Me That Not Everyone Is Transparent.

People say that they appreciate my transparency. The problem is that I know myself and I sure don't feel very transparent a lot of the time. If there is any transparency in me, I'm not sure I can say that becoming transparent was a natural process for me. I'm not sure it is natural for anybody. We all have a tendency to put forward our best foot, to maybe talk and act as we think other people want to perceive us. We want to hide the innermost thoughts and feelings that betray the fact we are not all we are cracked up to be. We Christians seem especially to struggle with this. We certainly have our own language, Christianese, and we have developed a carefully crafted set of Christian platitudes that are not always, but can be, empty and meaningless.

I'm not about to suggest that all conferences and retreats are bad. However, it can be very painful for the minister whose church is in the middle of a difficult time to get to the retreat and hear the glowing reports from everyone else present. The feeling is that I must be doing something wrong; I must not be a good leader; I must be the problem in our church. It took only a few years in the ministry to discover just how difficult it is to be open and honest with other ministers.

One year in particular, Dallise and I headed off to the annual retreat. We were not very excited because we had been going through a difficult year. I was not looking forward to pretending that all was well. We decided that we would be honest about our emotions and confess the hard times, but also that we were trusting God. We did not even get to the registration table before we had been greeted by two or three close minister friends. "Hey, Bro Philip. It's great to see you. How are thing going in your church? Great, I'm sure; just like ours. Isn't it great to be a Pastor?" Well, my response was, "Not so great right now. We had a rough year. Some key people left. Our finances are down and we're struggling a bit. But we are also believing God and know He will see us through this time. It will get better. We're just needing some encouragement." Honestly, some of our friends did not know quite how to handle us. We just kept being honest at this retreat because it was the only way we knew to ask for help and understanding. Finally, on the third day of the conference, one of our best friends broke down and admitted he had been going through all the same things we had experienced and that he too was discouraged. It took him three days, but he finally got transparent with us and we were then able to encourage each other honestly. The honesty was refreshing and liberating.

Maybe you notice that I value being real and that I do not value pretence. One of the best compliments I have ever had made about me was from my daughter-in-law, Charis. A co-worker once asked her how she could deal with her father-in-law being a Pastor. The co-worker's perception was that Pastors are different out of the pulpit than in it, and how could Charis deal with that difference. Charis' response was that it was not a problem for her because her father-in-law was the same both out of and in the pulpit. I was honored by her kindness.

Although I wish it were always true about me, I appreciate that occasionally someone may see and appreciate the real me. It sure seems to make life easier and more enjoyable when I don't have to remember who I think I'm supposed to be to make others happy. I think I'm just gonna have to be me, you know - the me God wants me to be.

They Never Told Me Just How Little Time

I would actually have for prayer, study, and personal devotion. Maybe they did tell me how difficult, yet important it would be to prioritize my day for personal preparation, but did I believe them? Naively, NO! When I was in Bible College, I worked a 40-hr week and took classes at night. It seemed all I did was work, eat, study and sleep. I left for work (BTW, making $3.00/hr and proud of it) at 7:00am, got home at 5:30pm, showered, ate dinner and left at 6:00pm for 6:30-9:30 classes, arriving home at 10:00pm. Every day was full.

I remember thinking how glad I would be when I was finally out of school and into ministry. I envisioned myself enjoying unending and uninterrupted hours of prayer and study. There would be no time restraint on the devotional side of life. After all, this would be the most important facet of personal ministry, right? Keeping myself spiritually alive, basking in God's instruction to my spirit would be key.

Wow, was I ever wrong about that! It was frustrating just how demanding everyday administration could be; and, oh how demanding all those people could be. Didn't they know I needed to be with Jesus? Now, I'm no Moses sitting in the gate or under the tree in the wilderness "judging" 3M+ people, but I felt a bit disconcerted at ending a day and realizing I had not spent adequate time with The LORD. I always thought ideally that if I could just take care of one issue or another, I would then have the time to study for myself and not just for a sermon.

Well, here I am 33 years later, still trying to figure out how to be successful at managing my devotional time. I once listened to a Christian radio show host interview an author who had written a book on how to have a consistently successful family devotional life. The more I listened as I drove down the road, the more guilty I felt. We had times, seasons maybe, when our kids were young that we would get somewhat consistent, but we never broke the distraction issues for long, consistent periods. This author really sounded like he had it together, and I certainly did not. Right at the end of the program, the host asked the author, "How do you make this all work in your family since you travel so often and always on the road away from your family?" The author replied, "Oh, I don't do so well at this myself." Well, I was all alone in my car, but I looked at the radio dial and screamed aloud, "You what!!!! All this time I'm feeling guilty because of you, and now you tell me you don't do this so well yourself!!?? How dare you!" Well, needless to say, I did not buy his book on Family Devotions, nor anything else he ever wrote.

The bottom line, I figured out, is that time is really not the issue with most of us. We will make time for the things that mean the most to us. I met a young man a few years ago who played soccer passionately. Because of hectic lifestyles, their games were played at 11:00pm and later. Another young man I know and love has been playing a basketball tournament at 10:00pm and later. It just points out that devotion is not a time issue, but a priority issue.

By the way, I'm not writing a book about prioritizing one's life for devotions. I'm still working on it myself. When I get it perfected, I'll start the book and inform you where you can pick up a copy.

Get me out of this hospital room!

For some Ministers, hospital visitation is one of the most tedious of pastoral responsibilities. For me, it has proven to be one of the most Life-Giving facets of ministry. Some of my training for hospital visitation informed me that I should get in, see the patient, say a quick prayer and get out ASAP. Sometimes, when a patient is extremely ill or deeply medicated, that is obviously the way the visit should go.

But I have found through the years that it can often be most advisable to spend as much time as possible with patients and their families. I found it a profound ministry to sit at the hospital with patients and families for entire days at a time. I am listing below some of the fun things, some of the funny things, some of the poignant things that have happened to me around the hospital visit.

* It was in the hospital waiting room that my church members learned I used Tanning Lotion to soften the glare of my extreme whiteness.
* It was in the waiting room that I perfected the telling of some of my favorite jokes.
* It was in the waiting room that I learned intimate things about these families and they learned them about me.
* It was in the waiting room that I laughed with families as we told stories, and it was like medicine.
* It was in the waiting room that I cried with families, and it was like healing.
* It was in the hospital room that I learned a lot about medicine, even though the Dr's were ready for me to be quiet and leave so they could speak to the patient.
* It was in the hospital room that I saw the real person without makeup, without the fancy clothes, without any pretense, and they didn't care how I saw them, as long as I saw them.
* It was in the hospital that I saw God touch Sonny after his heart surgery and a supernatural peace came over him when God's anointing fell upon him.
* It was in the hospital that many private confessions were tearfully made to me in absolute confidence.
* It was in the hospital that widowed daughters and wives, husbands, children and parents met me coming in with open arms and shameless tears of appreciation that their Pastor had cared enough to come.
* It was in the hospital that parents voiced the fears and questions about their sick child that could never have been spoken anywhere else without shame and condemnation.
* It was in the hospital that God through anointed prayer raised up a neighbor from certain death. It was absolutely a miracle.
* It was in the hospital that one touch of my hand to my friend's shoulder made it perfectly clear she had left her body and gone to be with Jesus.
* It was in the hospital that I was privy to a dynamic family gathering around the death bed of its patriarch singing hymns as he was removed from life support.
* It was in the hospital that we sat silently watching a family mourn quietly and knowing it would be an interruption of holiness to say anything.
* It was in the waiting room that families exchanged questioning and worried looks as we waited for news of the surgical success.
* It was in the hospital waiting room that I could serve families in practical ways; getting drinks and snacks; going to the nurses' station for an update when the family was afraid to ask, but afraid not to ask; speaking words of hope or words of reality when necessary; calling family members with updates; calling out-of-town family members to summon them to the bedside; providing transportation.
* and of course there was prayer, intense prayer, intercessory prayer, comforting prayer, releasing prayer.
* It was in the hospital that I spent an entire day helping a family let go.
* It was in the hospital that I rejoiced the most when unexpectedly good news was shared.

I guess there's a place and a time to get in, see the patient, say a quick prayer and get out. But most of the time ministry just takes more time. I believe, in looking back at over 30 years of ministry, most of my church families will remember me more for being THERE than for the sermons preached, and that is just fine with me. It was in the hospital that I discovered how to love, hurt, care, serve, grieve, hope and rejoice.

Nobody Had To Tell Me About ...

the importance of a supportive, loving wife when it comes to ministry. On this Valentine's Day, 2009, Dallise and I have been married just about 36 1/2 years. I cannot think of any way in the world that I would or could have have faced all these years in the ministry without her.

We were married on Sunday, August 6, 1972. At the end of that week, the end of our Honeymoon trip to St Augustine, FL, we moved into our little 12' x 52' mobile home that still had not been leveled and properly set up. About two weeks later, I began Bible College classes at Liberty Bible College. Dallise was there when I dreamed at night about the big exam on I & II Samuel, walking in my sleep trying to find the answers in the staple on the wall. She calmly led me back to bed and assured me I would do well, and I did. She sat on the low tree limb in the back yard asking me questions from different Books of the Bible and made me feel invincible for the ministry days ahead.

When we chose to spend a summer interning with her Dad in his new church plant, she was willing and excited to sell our little mobile home and leave for a 3-month adventure. At the end of the summer, when it was time to go back to college, she helped me load our rented U-Haul and head back to Pensacola even though we had not secured a place to live once we arrived. Friends housed us overnight, and the next morning we found a house to rent. Her faith was unwavering even in such uncertainty. Two years after that we headed back to DeLand, FL to spend the next 12 years of minstry in the little town we called "DeLand of Promise". Her faith was unshaken as we watched a 10-hour torrential downpour practically destroy the little bit of furniture we were transporting in an open trailer.

Twelve years later, when we resigned and had no where to go, she is the one who sat up in the middle of the night and had a vision of going to Birmingham, AL where we found a place of ministry that lasted another 8 years.

When we were debating the move to Fairhope, AL and I was feeling overwhelmed with the enormity of the moment, she said, "Let's go!" Eight years after that, we were considering a church plant in Chicago. We knew there was risk of failure, but she agreed that if that venture was not successful, we would figure out together what to do next. That is exactly what has happened and she has encouraged me all the way. Now while I am working at Chase Bank and sometimes feel I am missing my Calling, she reminds me that I am still being used by God to minister to people I would never see in "Official Church Leadership".

My point is that I have never had to make a major, life-altering decision apart from her. She has been with me all the way. I cannot imagine this journey without her. That makes her far more valuable than simply a Valentine on this February 14. She is life to me! Happy Valentine's Day, my indispensable Partner in Life!!

They Never Told Me About Musicians...

When I was a kid, the first Christian TV programming was just hitting the airwaves; shows like Oral Roberts and his healing ministry and lots of Gospel Quartets. I was captured by the Gospel Quartets. I loved the music. It touched something in my soul. Music still does that to me. The strains of melody minister to my soul and the words are the confession of my beliefs. I need it often.

Musicians are a creative and wonderfully talented bunch of people, but they can be a little quirky. Nobody told me this in Bible College; nobody told me that some of the most intense fellowship occurs between the Pastor and the Worship Pastor as they both try their best to be obedient to the Holy Spirit.

I have worked with people who are extravagantly talented musicians leading with professional quality and I have worked with some who are not formally trained musicians, but have an incredible sense of the flow of the Holy Spirit for a service. I have also worked with musicians who do not necessarily shine in either of these departments. These fall under the heading of "making a joyful noise unto the Lord". As a Pastor, you sometimes just utilize what you have and pray for rescue. Sometimes you just give people a chance knowing their hearts are pure; sometimes purity of heart is the best quality going for you. In all honesty, I have been pretty blessed through the years to have some amazing Worship Leaders in the small churches we have served.

There was a time early in our ministry that was characterized by an incredible worship experience for months on end. We hosted a joint praise service, High Praises, one Friday night each month and invited other churches to participate. We experienced two hours or more of pure worship without interruption; no preaching, no announcements, just worship. Wave upon wave of God's presence overwhelmed us in those meetings. One minute we would be prostrate on the floor in awed wonder and the next leaping and shouting for joy. I've never experienced anything quite like it since.

It was while we pastored this church that we were blessed with an interesting team of musicians. Our pianist was narcoleptic. Yes, you read that correctly. She would strike a chord on the piano during a time of spontaneous worship and nod off to sleep. About the time you thought all was lost, she would rouse long enough to hit the next chord. We also had a deaf drummer at this same time. Yes, again you read that correctly. He was totally deaf in one ear and partially deaf in the other. He was a teenager who wanted desperately to be part of the team, so we gave it a shot. He wore headphones and really tried, but we did ultimately have to ask him to leave the music team. We had a fair trombonist at this time and a guitarist who we discovered later frequented the local bars as an entertainer.

Incredible, huh? It is amazing to me that God was anywhere near that whole thing, but we sure did enjoy HIS presence in those days. In some ways, I miss the excitement and spontaneity of those encounters with the Holy Spirit. Alas, we have come a long way, baby.

Musicians; you gotta love 'em!

They Never Told Me About Failure...

I suppose every Bible College student goes into ministry with expectations of glowing success. Most of us experience an abundance of success stories, especially when we have invested in the lives of the people around us. I don't remember, though, that I was prepared for the failures of ministry I would face, and honestly now in hindsight, I'm not sure anyone can be prepared for failure. Programs were unproductive, outreaches failed, not every person who came through the church doors were saved and discipled, and even churches as a whole might shut down.

I remember about 25 years ago praying that God would never call me to plant a church. Nevertheless, we left Alabama in 2003 bound for Chicago to do that very thing. Dallise and I understood in advance the risk of failure. The following letter written in October, 2006, describes the end of that endeavor.

"Dear Friends,

Dallise and I want you, our friends and prayer partners, to know The Gathering Place Church will be closing at the end of October, 2006.

Dallise recently read a magazine article about Katie Couric's move from the Today Show to the CBS Evening News Anchor position. Asked about the format of the evening news, "'Some things are going to work and some things aren't,' she says matter-of-factly. 'I believe in noble failure.'"

That phrase caught my attention. I looked it up on the internet for further insight. Charles Schwab says, "The idea that failure is okay is ridiculous. But here at Schwab we differentiate between noble failure and stupid failure." Among his criteria for defining noble failure, Schwab included, "...you have a good plan and know what you're doing, you've thought it through carefully, and have implemented with sufficient management discipline, that if you look back in review, you'd conclude that it was thoughtfully done."

We launched out three years ago with prayer, with counsel from many whom we respect and with an obedient spirit. We got off to a good start with a plan and a passion to obey God in planting this church. We experienced moderately steady growth. I became involved in the local Chamber of Commerce and discovered a receptive platform for communicating the gospel in that business setting. We even were able to lead a few to the Lord.

However, we have not been able to sustain that growth and momentum, and for more than a year have been in a steady decline. Some moved away or graduated college and left for other pursuits. Some left after discovering that we embrace the gifts of the Holy Spirit and some left because they had personal conflicts with others in the church. Our worship leader resigned to devote his energy to the completion of his doctorate degree. Other emotional setbacks, more personal in nature to several families in the church, rocked our world when a dear friend and founding member passed away after a short battle with cancer.

Charles Schwab included another criteria in defining "noble failure;" "...you need to debrief yourself and ask what you can learn from the experience...".

I have learned much about how to start (and how not to start) a church. I'm sure there are many things we would do differently if we were starting again. I've learned much about myself, the details of which I will reserve communication for another time and format. For now, suffice it to say, my sense of calling into the ministry is only reaffirmed and strengthened through this experience.

While we are sad and disappointed at the results of our efforts, we cannot say we are sorry we embarked on this great adventure. Dallise and I have no regrets about our decision to move here and start this church. We believe it is important to take risks and venture out beyond our comfort zones to attempt great things for God. We are ready for the next "step beyond" in our lives, whatever that may be.

A. J. Valliant, reflecting upon a personal failure, wrote, "I suppose the lesson I took from this is that if we fail with grace and style the end result becomes secondary. It's the purity of our intent, and the depth of our conviction, that informs our worth; not some arbitrary marker of success."

Dallise and I hope you will see godly grace and style evidenced in our lives in the coming days. Be assured our worth is informed by the love of God, and to that love we will cling tenaciously.

We are deeply grateful for the financial, prayer and emotional support from so many of you. Thank you for your confidence in us. "

Now we are two years beyond that "noble failure". So, what's next? I have been working at Chase Bank as a Personal Banker, and have many opportunities for personal ministry to my clients. In that respect, it is fulfilling, but still, "What is ahead?"

This following "Word" was given at our church last Sunday. "... God wants you to KNOW that today is the day of His visitation upon your LIFE! To resurrect dreams, hopes, visions & promises and what you think is dead & gone."

The immediate response of my spirit to this Word was not that I would experience a "resurrection" of dreams or of ministry as I have known it before. What I heard, instantly and instinctively, was that God is birthing a NEW vision, a new dream, a new direction for me and Dallise. That excites me!Dallise and I both feel we may have another two years here in Chicago before we fully understand a new ministry vision and the release to pursue it. Thanks for walking this journey with us in prayer.

By the way, we do not see ourselves as failures in any way, only that we have experienced failure along the way. Even if they had told me about failure in Bible College, I could have learned its lessons only through my personal encounter with it. We can't wait to see what God brings from this past "Noble Failure" we have experienced.

Learning to be Brief...

I took a speech class in high school and again in college. I remember how difficult it was to get through 3 minutes of a speech in front of an unappreciative audience. Even then, I realized it was important to speak with passion, and consequently, took some ribbing from my classmates for trying to be expressive.

I know what it is like to watch a parishioner plug in a set of earphones and listen to his transistor radio as I began to preach. I've watched people disappear from the service and never come back, and it always seems there is someone in the audience who falls asleep. Inevitably, someone would come to me at the end of a sermon and apologize for falling asleep. I had this happen frequently enough that I often publicly assured the congregation that it was OK to fall asleep. I would rather them fall asleep at church than at home in front of the TV. I joked that I sometimes put myself to sleep while I was preaching, and so I would not let my feelings be hurt when others fell asleep.

While I have not always been successful at following my own advice, I have realized that brevity in a sermon actually makes it more memorable. I have worked for years to refine and shorten my sermons. Alas, much of my downfall has been that I so easily stray from my prepared notes just to spontaneously tell a story that comes to mind. Of course, I have great stories to tell!!

At any rate, this week I went back through all my blogs because I discovered there were added comments that I had not seen. In doing so, I noticed something that will not come as much of a surprise to those of you know me. My earlier blogs were relatively short and my later blogs have become increasingly longer.

So, I'm off on a new quest to pare down the length of my reminiscing. Try not to fall asleep while reading these blogs. If you fall asleep while reading my blog, I can only surmise you might think I'm boring. If you do fall asleep, don't tell me; just let me think I'm interesting and you'll make me a happy man.

They Never Told Me in Bible College that I might have to be the Sound Guy!

In ministry I've always valued the importance of a good sound system, but also learned the system is no better than the person operating it. Further, I don't know too many issues that can cause more disagreement in a church than the volume of the music. It can divide a congregation.

The sound can also make or break the minister's effectiveness, whether he be preacher or singer. When I first arrived at a new pastorate, the Sound Guy (and that by the way, is usually the official designation of the person who operates the sound system), informed me that I would never have to tap the microphone to determine it it was on or not. In fact, he forbade that I do so. He had some experience in the field of sound and had worked professionally with a couple of bands. He promised that he was a proficient and professional Sound Guy and that my mic would always be ready when I was ready. He said that he would watch me constantly and know my habits and patterns so that I would never have to worry about the sound. You know what? He was right. It was wonderful to work with him.

Ultimately he left our church and Robert volunteered to be the Sound Guy. Robert was not as professional as the previous Guy, but in due respect, his experience in the sound field had been cranking up the volume of his favorite heavy metal music he was listening to on his headset. Lest you think I am being critical of Robert, I watched him take his new responsibility seriously and grow in his skills through the following years that he was Sound Guy. On top of the fact that he got better and better, no one could ever play air guitar as well as Robert did when he was in the sound balcony out of sight of everyone but God and me during our Worship Service. Here's to you, Robert!

I never expected to ever have to be the Sound Guy. I am sure most of you will know who Larnell Harris is. Before he became well known and before he recorded and sold as many songs as he has, he came to our church to minister. He had no entourage to accompany him; no sophisticated sound system, no special lighting, no smoke, no nothin' but himself and a case of cassette sound tracks, one song on each cassette tape. He conscripted me to be his Sound Guy.

It sounded simple. We set up the cassette tape player at the front pew just a few feet to Larnell's right on the left front side of the sanctuary in plain sight so everyone could witness the Sound Guy at work. We set up a goose neck mic stand bent down to the speaker on the cassette player so the sound could be carried to the house speakers. He had his tapes all cued, meaning he had already advanced the tape past the blank leader tape that was always on a cassette. The music would begin immedialy, avoiding that awkward silence hissing in the speakers while waiting for the music to start. The tapes were all laid out in the order of performance. It sounded simple.

It sounded simple. Before the service, Larnell explained he did not like to talk too much between songs and that he wanted me to get the next tape into the player as quickly as possible and go ahead and punch the play button. He assured me he would be ready to sing at that precise moment. He went over a few subtle hand signals he would use to have me raise or lower the volume and suggested it would be important for me to pay attention. It sounded simple.

The service began, Larnell was introduced and I was on. I was johnny-on-the-spot at the end of each tape. Punch the 'eject' button, snatch out the concluded tape, pop in the next song and hit 'play' in one fluid motion. Other than the rattling noise of the tapes being manhandled, everything was going pretty smoothly.

It WAS so simple even though I was tightly wound and wanting not to disappoint or distract Larnell. I was clearly picking up his hand signals and ministry was flowing. It was unfolding as we had hoped and I was envisioning myself traveling as Larnell's roadie and Sound Guy. Then it happened.

The song had reached its climax. Larnell ended the song with a flourish and the music stopped. I punched 'eject' and as I did so, suddenly Larnell belted out this amazing acappella note. I was memerized by his talent and ability to give the song such a powerful unplanned finish. Everyone was in awe; you could feel the electricity in the air. God was with us. With an odd look of slight frustration, Larnell gave me a head nod to go ahead and start the next song and we launched into another spectacular moving performance. In my mind, the evening could have been no better. It really was simple.

After the service, Larnell made a beeline to me. I knew he was coming to congratulate me on a job well done and perhaps even offer me the full-time Sound Guy position. Alas, he launched into an explanation that I had essentially hung him out to dry on that one song. But the music had ended, I explained. Turns out, it was just a rest in the song, and what had appeared to be his impromptu spectacular ending would have been even more spectacular had it been accompanied by the dramatic musical conclusion now resting silently on the cassette. So much for simple.

Although the evening was a ministry success and people were leaving blessed and refreshed, I knew immediately and instinctively that any offer of becoming the Sound Guy for Larnell Harris had gone as silent as the blank leader tape on the cassette. It had seemed so simple.

Every Good Pastor Has A Toilet Cleaning Story...

Bible College is a place for dreams to begin taking shape. The ministerial student envisions himself preaching eloquently, baptizing converts and giving wise counsel based on the Word of God. He sees life change in discipleship and community in Communion. He will be loved and appreciated for his strong, yet compassionate leadership. The church will thrive as he obeys God.

What nobody really told us is that the everyday, mundane events of administration and maintenance can eat up the Minister's week. My son, Seth, now a Childrens' Pastor, wrote the following. "No one ever told me I would pull teeth of little kids; no one told me I would have to clean up bubble parties in the bathroom, or rescue preschool workers from little boys who lock themselves in closets because they had gone pee in there."

I discovered quickly that I would have to print bulletins, make deposits and do the accounting, cut grass and trim hedges, do painting, plumbing, carpentry and electricity (scary), replace lighting, vacuum, and worst of all, clean toilets. While I am not very good at many of these chores, I can say that I have developed a certain skill level in all of them. In fact, in a strange sort of way, I have come to realize that each of these responsibilities has produced character that I may not have developed otherwise. Charis (my daughter-in-law), wouldn't you agree that character is important?

I have come to realize the importance of serving the Body of Christ with a good attitude in these mundane, behind-the-scenes activities. I believe this so strongly that I can now say with a strong conviction that no Minister is worth his salt if he does not have a good toilet-cleaning story. Yea, you guessed it; you get to hear my toilet-cleaning story.

I was Administrator of the Christian School our church had established. One day it was reported to me that the urinal in the boys' bathroom that served our third and fourth graders was stopped up. In case you did not already know this, urinals are not designed for solids. Only liquids will flush. So, I wondered why the urinal would be stopped up. It would have been nice to have had a full time custodian whom I could call on a two-way radio and send to the rescue. But no, I, the Pastor/Administrator, was the only one on call. Besides, we didn't have two-way radios. When I arrived to scope out the damage, I discovered that apparently some little boy had devised a way to deposit "solids" (feces, poop, #two) in the urinal. Even though I knew it was not going to flush, I was hoping a few timely flushes would dissolve the "solids" adequately to make it disappear. That was only a pipe dream. Ultimately I conceded I would have to find a way to remove the "solids" from the urinal. It was not a fun task and I secretly resented the teacher who reported the incident, but would not take the responsibility to do anything more. Finally the task was over and I could get back to the important duties of ministry.

The next day, the teacher reported to me again the same problem. I took care of it again and this time really scolded the boys in the class and threatened the safety of their lives if it should happen again. Well, the next day, we were back in the same mess, if you know what I mean. Since none of the boys would own up to the responsibility, I figured the entire group of boys would have to assist in the cleanup. To their dismay, I made each of the boys join me in the bathroom and with the pair of tongs I had conscripted for the daily duty, each had to remove a piece of the "solid". I do not understand to this day why I did not have some parents in my office and on my case for involving their innocent little kids in this disgusting task. I'm sure most were uninvolved and yet, all learned an important lesson in hygiene that day.

By the way, if my memory serves me correctly, and it doesn't always, my son, Heath, was one of the "depositors" involved. Heath, if I am wrong, please forgive me for the unjust accusation. If I am right, I hope you have your own share of similar experiences. I would wish this on you only because I understand the value of every minister having a good toilet-cleaning story.