Stewardship

Thirty-five Down and Thirty-five to Go

Thirty-five years ago, my father officiated at our wedding ceremony in the sanctuary of First Southern Baptist Church in Northglenn Colorado. I remember two things about his involvement that day. As you would expect in the moments before a wedding ceremony begins, there was a substantial cloud of tension. Just before he led the groomsmen in the procession to the front of the auditorium, he turned to me and said, "This is your final chance to back out." I think he was trying to tap the relief valve and reduce some of the tension in the room. I have used that same stupid joke several times myself to coax a chuckle from a groom who was overly stressed.

The other memorable part of my father’s participation has to do with the Unity Candle we lit at the conclusion of the ceremony. The bride and groom take two candles and light a third candle in the center, symbolizing how the two now have become one. However, Sharon and I forgot to extinguish the two original candles. For years, my father would comment that the two became three. Well, the two did become three a few years later, and then four, and five, and now all the way to eight.

Many significant events have transpired during the past thirty-five years. We have listed ten different addresses, located in three states, as our home address. We have owned ten vehicles, if my memory is correct, not counting the cars the boys bought while they were still living at home. We have owned more pets than I care to remember, including fish, hamsters, guinea pigs, birds, cats, and more dogs than we should have. Among the pets were many that were the unintentional kind that boys would expect to bring home, like tarantulas, lizards, snakes, and turtles.

When we took the wedding vows, Sharon assented to take me for better or for worse. I am sure that in the past thirty-five years, she has received the worst of me and I hope some of the best I have to offer. We have also endured through the sickness and health thing as well. According to the vows, we have done the poor thing and it is still possible we will experience the riches, although I am not holding my breath.

These thoughts were triggered in my thinking by an article I read that indicated young people are taking the plunge into marriage at a much older age than in the past. Depending on the survey you read, it seems that men are waiting until nearly twenty-eight for marriage, and women until age twenty-five.

Is The Church Only for Good Christians?

I recently read an article about an organization that provides background checks for churches. If a church wants to feel safe about those who volunteer to work with children or serve in a leadership position, it might be a good idea to get information about that person’s past. The article was full of statistics and inferences, but it was not the numbers that caught my attention. It was the attitude of quoted interested parties that struck me as curious.

Researchers did what statisticians like to do. They took the numbers, applied them to a specific situation, and came to a conclusion. Don’t worry if their conclusion is based on faulty logic and incomplete research. The researchers speculate that there are more than 60,000 people with some type of criminal history in Southern Baptist churches.

I am not sure why they chose to single out Southern Baptists. Do we really believe that Methodists are more law-abiding? I know some Southern Baptists who believe that "mixed bathing" is a walk on the wild side. For those of you younger than forty, "mixed bathing" does not refer to taking a shower with your girl friend. It means boys and girls swimming together, actually in the same body of water and wearing a complete swimsuit.

I am sure the background check folks were not searching for criminal backstrokers, or for the truly serious sinner who likes to spend Sunday afternoon at the mall. They identified people who had been accused and convicted of committing a felony, a significant crime.

"It is so important in this day and time to run these checks," said a church Secretary in Tennessee. "We just don't know who is coming into our church. We'd like to think everyone is a good Christian, but we can't know that."

I have a problem with the statement made by this church secretary. Apparently, one who has a criminal background cannot be a "good Christian." With that definition of a good Christian, we must eliminate a person like the Apostle Paul or anyone else who has experienced the amazing transforming power of salvation.

How Much Do You Spend On a Dog?

We received some bad news in our family this week – one of my wife’s dogs needs surgery. You might wonder why I refer to "my wife’s dog," but there is no doubt about the allegiance of these dogs.

Actually, Sharon has two dogs. They are both Yorkies - or Yorkshire Terriers for those of you who are fans of canine breeding. If you have ever been to our house then you know Samson and Moses. No one gets in and out without a meet and greet with the dogs.

When you ring the doorbell, they both fly to the front door like a ricocheting bullet. If Barak Obama rang our doorbell, the Secret Service could not keep those dogs from jumping the President. When I answer the door, I always issue the same warning, "Watch out for the killer dogs!" Both dogs run toward the intruder, barking and bouncing. Samson will run around the visitor twice and then turn for a walk in the front yard. Moses will sniff a few times and then sit on the visitor’s foot, waiting for a back rub. After a few seconds, I tell them to get in the house and they disappear inside the house and leave everyone alone.

We have had both dogs since they were freshly minted puppies. Samson is eight years old, weighs only about five pounds, has long shiny hair, and jumps and walks like a cat. He barks like a maniac whenever a leaf blows across the front yard, but if he hears a loud noise, he cowers in fear. I thought of the name Samson because it seemed to be the opposite of his reality.

We named the other dog Moses. His hair is shaggy, and when it gets long, he looks like a ball of fur running around the house. At nearly four years of age, he is twice as large as Samson and has a completely opposite personality. Samson barks at things outside, Moses barks at Samson. He never met a stranger and loves to sit in your lap. He is very aggressive when it comes to being first in line for affection or food.

I repeat my earlier statement; these dogs belong to Sharon, not me. If you watch how they act with her, you will learn a great lesson of what it means to worship and adore. As Sharon drives up the street toward home, they start barking. When she finally enters the door, they jump up and down at her feet like cold water drops on a hot skillet. They are constantly at her side as she does her chores and are almost always in the same room with her. They go to bed when she does and get up when she does. The one rule I enforce is that they do not sleep in our bed.

Where is a Fireball Evangelist When You Need One?

The term "Evangelist" conjures up a variety of images in our thinking. Historically, it has been a Christian word used to describe an itinerate preacher, one who specialized in delivering sermons leading up to a decision to be saved. At least, that is the Baptist understanding that I grew up with. Once or twice a year, the church would hold a weeklong revival meeting, two weeks if your memory goes back far enough, and the evangelist had a pack of sermons designed to motivate, humiliate, encourage, shame, or whatever else we needed at the time.

I do not hear much about evangelists any more. The way we do church, with our emphasis on being seeker-friendly is not conducive to the way most Evangelists preach. The modern day equivalent to Evangelist is probably what we call a "Church Starter." These folks do not hold a weeklong event. Instead, they plant their lives in a community, recruiting others to join them as followers of Jesus and building a church.

In a way, I miss not having an occasional Evangelist conducting a revival meeting. I will confess, I would probably not attend every night so I am not going to encourage it too loudly.

There were two evangelists from my days as a pastor who were unforgettable characters. Jack Franklin was a former rock singer, complete with a hit record and a wasted decade of drug use. Jack spent a week in our little community. He and his wife stayed at our house and we sat up late every night eating and listening to tales about life before Jesus and life after Jesus.

Tommy Phelps is the other larger than life character. Some of you probably know Tommy. If you ever met him, you will remember. He was a former professional wrestler who experienced a miraculous conversion that led him out of the ring and into the pulpit. As you might imagine, he was a large, powerful men. Legend has it that on more than one occasion he split a pulpit in half with his pounding fist. I loved Tommy because I could tell the moment we first met that he already loved me. I could listen to his testimony of salvation over and over, and he liked to tell it over and over. In fact, it probably got better each time he told it.