This is the first episode of seven on “A Scattered Feast” Season three.

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I fell headlong into the chasm of my willful atrocities.
Some subtle and slight. Under the surface. Others are so visible I must tremble. 
The level of my careless rebellion is undeniable.
Without a word of recompence I have stood, not knowing the grief I impose on almighty God.

But then

My soul is transported through time to thorn-crowned head of the dawn creator.
He remains
I hear his voice from the hill of mankind’s transgression
His voice reverberates through the centuries

Through wars, idolatry, conspiracy, and flesh borne insurrection.
Like the deep voice of a billion sorrows crystalized in that one moment of suffering
Father, the voice cries above the unseen hoards of demons and  all too visible tormentors
Father, forgive them. They know not what they do. 
Bludgeoned, beaten, challenged, ridiculed
His power unparalleled
Yet he remains
Yet not only remains. He calls for amnesty in the midst of annihilation 

Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.
We hear Jesus uttering this prayer while enduring unthinkable agony
It’s personal. It’s unimaginable. But most of all, it’s mercy.
Mercy of the greatest kind.
And when I think of God his son not sparing sent him to die, I scare can take it in. 
Father forgive them.
Father forgive the dogs that surrounded him
Father forgive the religious bigots who spewed malicious venom and mocking rebukes
Father forgive Thomas who doubted
Peter who denied him.
And disciples who deserted him
Father forgive them.
And as he scanned the ions of centuries to come 
He gazed through history.
He saw me and he saw you
Father forgive them. 
They know not what they do.

Last Thursday, I was behind a lady at the grocery store. It’s a national chain, but not one of those fancy all organic places where they offer free samples of tofu ice cream and sushi. It’s the “bag your own stuff” kind of place where you can buy enough beans to feed the French resistance at a deep discount. She had a baby on her hip, one in the cart and three right beside her. She was a professional. She carried more coupons than I’ve ever seen. Totally organized. By the time she finished checking out and redeeming her coupons, I thought they were going to have to pay her for taking the groceries.  It was really close. In the middle of this important and somewhat shadowy financial transaction, she also managed to tamp down a sibling mutiny between two of her toddlers, convince a 12-year-old that chocolate causes acne, and give a plausible explanation to an 8-year-old for fake UFO sightings printed on the National Enquirer nearby. I was in awe. This lady had it going on in the “Mom Department.”  It reminded me of how difficult mothering can be, if done right. 

Being a mom requires a ton of multitasking and lots of counterbalancing. In order to be a good mom, you must have the patience of Job, the wisdom of Solomon, the compassion of Mother Teresa, the financial savvy of Warren buffet, and the defensive prowess of Chuck Norris, all in the same day.

I’ve seen a mom settle a dispute simple with a single sentence. Of course, the tone and volume of that sentence may have had a little to do with it. A mom can ease a pain with a kiss on the affected area. I’ve never pulled that one off successfully. I’ve tried.

My wife can handle and clean up just about anything with the exception of vomit. I am chairman of the vomit department at our house. She has a sensitive gag reflex. Just about everything else she can handle just fine, thank you very much. Sincerely, Dear… Thank you very much.

I’m also grateful that I’m the designated driver on long trips. That seems to be a fairly universal agreement in most families. The dude drives. I’m not a better driver but someone has to drive while negotiations worthy of United Nations treaties are being conducted in the back of the minivan. My wife is a firm yet gentle mediator. When we disagree and a debate ensues, it usually goes badly for me. Maybe it’s just me but about halfway through an argument, I forget what my original point was. How does she do that? Such verbal sleight of hand! If true be told, no man has ever really won an argument with his wife, the mother of his children. If you do win, you kind of lose in the long run. Our doghouse has room for only one dog and it’s a rough place to spend the night. I’ve kind of decided that she’s too attractive to argue with and that suits me just fine. 

I think we can all agree that no one’s just a mom. Mom is a big enough title for a gal to rock the world and I got to see another example in the checkout line on a Thursday day afternoon.  

Welcome to life as a deacon! Always exciting, inspiring, fulfilling and self-satisfying. Wait… that’s not exactly true.  Let’s start over.

Welcome to life as a deacon! Much different than you expected (that’s a little closer to the truth).

As you begin your ministry as a deacon, here are a few common errors to avoid for the sake of your ministry, your marriage and maybe even your sanity. The last thing that anyone wants to see happen here is for you to flame out in the first year. I’ve known a number of men that did and the following exhortations are the result. And by the way, I’m flamed out early on but found my stride a few months later. I wish I would have known about three of these errors back then. 

1. Listening to Pastor Bashers.  Once you become a deacon you enter a different perceived role. It is the role of sounding board for everyone who thinks your pastor in obtuse, lazy, overbearing, driven, long-winded, shallow, manipulative, disorganized, carnal, pharisaical, aloof, nosey, trite, over-analytical, under-educated, simple, complex, late, early, egregious, spineless, stubborn and/or incompetent. Do not listen to any of them. Ever. 

2. Beast Mode. When I became a deacon I was uninformed of my physical, emotional, and spiritual limitations. I actually believed I could be on “beast mode.” Beast mode, a term my kids used a few years ago, is that extra gear you have that let’s you become insanely fast and unstoppable. It’s a video game term. But you can only survive on beast mode for a day or two before you completely wear yourself out. Pace yourself in this first year. In the words of Spiderman’s aunt: “You aren’t Superman, you know.”

3. Desire for “Pixie Dust.” There is no pixie dust that you can sprinkle over some messes that will make them look or smell better. You are going to have to get your hands dirty in other people’s wreckage and there will be no “microwave” or “just add water” solutions. Usually it’s a lot of hard, awkward, ugly work in ministry. There are times in ministry when all the axioms fall short.

4. Becoming a Solo-mission Specialist. A deacon is never a one man wrecking crew. It takes a tribe to do it. Going alone could have various consequences including:

• Gossip from a neighbor who sees you entering a widow’s home by yourself.
• Anxiety from trying to accomplish tasks both great and small alone.
• Embarrassment from trying to fold that Lord’s Supper table cloth alone in front of the congregation (impossible!). 
• Danger from the generator as you try to reboot the church septic system.

Being a deacon without a wingman is a frustrating and lonely undertaking. 

5.  Going Full-On Gladiator.  Deacons, avoid the temptation to be consumed in conflict. There will be conflict in church. Conflict is actually healthy, but left unchecked it grows like kudzu on a hot Georgia night. It will smother everything good that’s happening in the church. Steve Davis, my pastor, reminded me that all deacons carry around two buckets. One filled with gas and the other with water. In every conflict deacons will throw one or the other at the flames. Choose the water please. 

6. “Fake it ‘til ya Make it.” You can get away with this strategy from time to time but it’s a whole lot easier to learn how to do the work and ask questions when you’re confused. 

7. Anticipating the Ticker Tape Parade. It’s an honor to serve but don’t expected to be honored. Most of the important stuff you do will be things that only your Father in Heaven will see. There are also some exasperating moments. I often think about one phrase when I think about pastoring and being a deacon, “It’s an early to rise, pride-swallowing onslaught!” Some days are like that and nobody gets a purple heart for those days. 

8. Underestimating the Power of a 40-Year Member. They are out there and you might want to spend a little extra time getting to know them. Political move? Sometimes. Wise? More often than not. Listening and relating to them often makes connections and builds bridges that will reap benefits. They have a lot of experience and are often more open to change than you would imagine.

9.  Trying to Speak When You Have No Words.   Sometime I forget that listening and silence can be much more powerful and constructive that wagging my uninformed and mystified tongue. A deacon’s presence at a funeral is more powerful than words. Trying to answer a question because you are embarrassed that you don’t know the answer is downright dangerous.

10.  And Finally … Forgetting the Pianist in the Lord’s Supper Element Distribution. It’s so easy to do! She isn’t on a row. She’s out in left field. She’s busy doing something important and she’s in full view of the congregation. Tie a string around your finger and then place the juice and wafer on the piano for her. Everybody watching will be glad you did!  

AUTHOR of my everything, my story A to Z

BRIGHT AND MORNING STAR above, my blinded eyes can see

COMFORTER of weary souls, COMPANION of the lost

DELIVERER, DEFENDER despite the cruel cost

EXALTED ONE who stooped to save, found in a humble place

FAITHFUL ONE of Glory who came to me in grace

GUARDIAN of my destiny, GOD in flesh and bone

HEALER of my solitude, I never walk alone.

INTERCESSOR standing tall, speaking for me, still.

JEHOVAH God creator, with hands of grace and skill

KING of all the universe, immortal God of love

LORD in every circumstance, watching from above

MAN OF SORROWS, MIGHTY ONE who came to seek and save

NAZARENE of providence whose life He freely gave

ONE AND ONLY Sacrifice, The lamb upon a cross

PIERCED for my transgression, my gain found in His loss

QUIET ONE, a still small voice, whispering His plan

RABBI in my ignorance, Redeemer,

SON OF MAN

TREE OF LIFE, evergreen, The fruit of holiness

UNFAILING LOVE, UNENDING JOY, and UNBRIDLED BLISS

VICTOR of my battles. He fought to set me free.

WARRIOR like none other, battling for me.

X-RAY of the human heart, a restorer from the fall

YESHUA, redeemer

ZENITH of it all…

Don’t you need Him?  Reach out to Him this day and you’ll see that He’ll give you everything your wounded soul craves.

Because He’s everything…

 It happened at the start of my first year of junior high school. My dad got a new job in another state and so the week before school started, we were moving. The great thing about this move was that in the middle of the chaos, I was shuffled off to my grandparents so far into the sticks that I couldn’t be contacted to move a single box. My grandparents lived in a little house in the woods of central Louisiana, complete with a ten-acre pond and a cousin nearby.  The day before school was our last day to fish and so we rose up early. In a crude boat made of a tractor tire and a metal tub, (Yes, I share the DNA of Larry the Cable Guy.) we navigated our way through the dead trees rooted throughout the pond. Then something unexpected happened. We hit a stump filled with yellow jackets. The swarm would rival the plagues of Egypt. My cousin and I both dove out of the boat and into the pond. The result was very visible. The yellow jackets bit what they could: my head. I looked like the Elephant Man with measles. And the next day was the first day at the new school in a new town and a new address. As fate would have it, I was transported across the state by my grandmother who dropped me off directly at the school where my hideous head would be the talk of everyone in the 7^th grade. In fact, I still have a few tiny scars on my forehead today.

After school, I rode the bus home, but I had forgotten the address. So, as I remember it, I just took a stab at where to get off and spent the next hour trying to muster the courage to knock on a stranger’s door and ask to phone home.  Looking like E.T., it seemed to be the right course of action. It was the worst day of my life up to that point.

But one thing good came from it. Years later I’d have a story to share when my kids experienced humiliation. I not only could say, “Wow, that’s got to be tough.” I could say, “I know how you feel.” First day of middle school is bad. Looking like a Halloween mask on the first day of school? Well, there had to be some use for that day. 

I think that’s really the beauty of the Gospel. When I’m in a really dark place, Jesus doesn’t just sympathize and say, “Wow, that’s got to be tough.” I can sense Him pointing to the cross that’s hanging on the kitchen wall and saying, “I know how you feel.” And that, my brothers and sisters, is good news. 

Do you remember her? Our rhetoric was imperfect, but there were guardrails in the grooves of our brain that kept us from the dregs of profanity. Do you remember the America where leaders respected each other, in spite their differences?

I miss the trust that people had in each other’s decency, when we bolstered our resiliency instead of dark conspiracy. Somewhere over the past few years, we’ve emboldened our rage. We’ve taken down the lines of demarkation between dignity and disgust.

We’ve ignored our values. For years as a nation, we haven’t valued the holiness of life. We still haven’t turned that page. But would we actually keep kids in a cage?

I miss the days when name-calling was considered taboo. And tweets from birds were all the tweets that we knew. I miss the dignity of her voice. I miss the power of a rigorous, thoughtful, respectful debate. Yes, I miss those days, and I wonder if she’ll ever rediscover her grace. Her respect for humanity. Her fear of Divinity. But the strides of the enemy seems to have quickened the pace of injustice.

I guess the thing I miss the most is truth. It’s all about who can scream the loudest. You can’t seem to win without hyperbole. We’ve lost our scruples, our trust and our dignity.

I miss the prayers. I miss the hope. I miss the church before is was commandeered by debates over masks and political fears.

Perhaps our incivility simmered underground and it had been there all along. But today, we are in a nation where the fever of hate is raging and no elected official can soothe her.
I still believe in the high-minded, winsome experiment called America. Maybe we can change. But frankly, right now everything seems scattered. Shattered.
I miss the America I knew.

“I hear what you’re saying about sharing my faith but I have an allergic reaction to it, I break out in a cold sweat when I even think about prying my way into somebody’s eternal destiny and trying to get them to do what they need to do.” 

For many believers, the term “evangelism” evokes visions of awkward unexpected home visits, feelings of intimidation and inadequacy, and a fair amount of nervousness. But evangelism can be a joyful adventure and the greatest thing believers will ever accomplish in their lives. Don’t get me wrong. Street witnessing and cold-calling evangelism are amazingly effective and inspiring, but every believer can do a few simple, creative, proactive things to exercise their relational and sharing muscles. Here are some easy sure-fire ways every member of your church can share their faith in a totally nonthreatening way. 

1. Video your faith story using your smart phone and post it on social media. The video should be no longer than 2 minutes and can be a simple explanation for how you became a Christ-follower and how it’s changed the trajectory of your life. If someone is camera shy, invite them to write their story as a post on Facebook. At the end of the post or the video, explain how someone can begin their faith journey by praying to ask Jesus to be the Lord of their life.

• Invite members to have Gospel conversations. Many church members may shy away when you talk evangelism, but the idea of Gospel conversations seems like a more realistic goal for them.  So, what is a Gospel conversation? It’s fairly obvious.  It’s listening, asking questions and relating the Gospel. Ultimately, we are challenging people to place their trust in Jesus.  Jesus illustrated this time after time. His evangelism happened organically and situationally. John Meador says “Training believers to have gospel conversations with their friends, neighbors and co-workers must be one of the top priorities for pastors and leaders today.^[1]  Sam Greer, pastor of Red Bank Baptist Church, in Chattanooga, Tennessee has a unique way of motivating his church to have Gospel conversations. In their worship center, they have plexiglass display that has Jesus written on the front of it. Inside are white ping pong balls and red ping pong balls inside. The white represents every Gospel conversation people in their church have had. The red ones represent someone who came to Christ. Every time a gospel conversation or a salvation occurs, members are invited to drop a ping pong ball into the display. In one year, they recorded over 1900 gospel conversations. 

• Challenge church members to adopt their block for the Gospel. We can all get to know by name the families in walking distance of our homes. Offer assistance. Give gifts on special occasions. Host a barbeque or a game viewing party. Show up at the hospital when a health crisis happens. As we do life with our neighbors, we will earn their attention and ultimately, we’ll get a chance to share the Gospel with them. A little investment goes a long way in being heard when you start to share things of eternal significance.

• Challenge your people to practice sharing the Gospel on a friend who is not a believer. The invitation would go something like this: “My church is asking me to practice sharing my spiritual story with someone. Could I buy your lunch? And would you allow me to practice sharing my story?”Recently, I’ve heard testimonies of people who came to faith in Jesus through this simple, non-threatening invitation. 

• Finally, practice prayer-paration. We all know people who are without the hope of Jesus. Above health issues, financial hardships, and personal issues, our unbelieving friends should be at the top of the church prayer list. I know that the more I pray for someone, the more courageous I will become in sharing Jesus. Ultimately, we can’t save anyone. But we know the One who can. Let’s challenge the church to have a list of people, we’d love to reach for Christ. 

As we pray, share, give and go, we have to encourage each other to go to where the people are. It really is Good News. In fact, the gospel is the greatest news on the planet. When people in your church are challenged to share their faith, stories about evangelism and Gospel conversations will stoke the fire and increase the hunger to see more people come to trust Jesus. There’s really nothing better to create excitement, ease tensions, and grow a church than a group of people committed to sharing and celebrating this great news. 

^[1] https://www.namb.net/your-church-on-mission-blog/the-gospel-conversation-crisis/

Lord, I ask that Thou giveth me:

the strength of the elephant and the lightness of a butterfly

the patience of a snail and the speed of a jaguar

the playfulness of a monkey and the stubborn faithful plodding of an ass

the eyes of an eagle and the discernment of a bat

the roar of a lion and the song of a lark

the reach of a giraffe and the tenacity of a badger

the toughness of a turtle and the tenderness of a lamb

the stillness of a possum and ingenuity of the beaver

the loyalty of a retriever and the humility of the worm.

We were born with a deep sense of eternity. 

It’s inside us

It’s echoes through our doubts and struggles for meaning and hope

But we must ask… IS this life all that there really is? Or are we shaped and formed by a living God

There’s too much beauty, too much wonder, too much extravagance for a simplistic and crude explanation that everything around us is merely accidental… Like pottery his hands crafted this world in all its beauty and symmetry. 

It’s a portrait of a present and active God lovingly desiring a connection with his creation.

Through wars, chaos, injustice and disease

He’s been reaching out. 

The problem is that the bridge was broken between the creator and his creation.

But the Bible also writes that God’s perfect son was born and lived a perfect life.

Jesus showed us how to live and then he died as a sacrifice for our sin.

God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in his son Jesus will not die but will have eternal life. 

What we’ve earned is death, but the gift God gives to those who believe is eternal life. It’s not religion, it’s not legalism, it’s not performance. It’s grace.

No matter who you are, where you’ve been, or what you’ve done. You’ve been invited to this table of His grace.  

So would you pray this prayer.

Father God, I am in need of forgiveness and belonging. I believe that your Son came into this world, lived a perfect life and paid the death penalty for my sin. I accept the gift of being a part of your family. Thank you for the eternal life you offer. I lay everything down at your feet. Forgive me, wash me clean and take me in.

If you’ve prayed that prayer we want to welcome you into a family. That’s the big story. We’d love to help you connect with a church where you can grow in your faith. The real adventure begins today.  

We are all unwilling recluses.

We know the trifles of distraction

that pull us away from the tethers of reality

In the morning, we wake from restless sleep and fearful understanding

the darkness covers and we cry in the GethseMany of our aloneness.

And we taste the same legions of despair.

There will be a time of feasting, but for now we are alone.

We must taste this food of a hundred days lost

Trust the Father

Wash the hands and feet of the beloved- even if the chasm

brings bewilderment with consolations few.

We will set our course away from the high wind of desolation

toward the disambiguating light of our great Hope.

Our (dis)ease is alienation

Our hope

redemption’s release