A Lesson In Community

This past weekend, I, along with several other adults (including Carol, my wife) had the distinct privlege of chaperoning our annual Youth Beach Retreat at Laguna Beach near Panama City, Florida. This is the second consecutive year that I've made this trip and, each time I've been moved by watching our teens.

There are a number of memories I carry with me from this trip: a foot washing ceremony that left me in tears; powerful lessons from Dub Hall, our talented Youth Minister; a meditation room developed by Wendy Hall that plunged me into God's presence; moshing with the kids to the song "Life is good; Eternal Life is Better;" and many others. However, there is one memory that stands out in bold relief--it was a demonstration of community.

We had gathered around 11:00 p.m. on the beach to praise God, honor the seniors who will be transitioning into their college experience, and to hear testimonies from them. While we were singing, I noticed that a lone figure passed near our group. Though shrouded in darkness, I could tell that he was listening to us. He slowly moved on, continuing to turn his head in our direction. After a couple more songs, this same guy came near and sat on the periphery of our group. He simply hung his head and listened.

Dan Baxter, one of our shepherds and very dear friend, noticed this visitor near us. He walked over, sat down and began to talk with him. Two of our teenagers moved near him and I walked over and kneeled down as well. I didn't know what was happening. Was he simply curious? Had he stopped to mock us? Was he simply amused by the whole thing? What were his intentions?

As I knelt, Dan, who speaks a little Spanish, said: "This is Nelson. He's from Honduras where his family lives. He's all alone. He told me that he has made many mistakes and that he heard our singing and was drawn to it. He doesn't speak any English, but the music spoke to him. He wants to know if he's welcome to stay." The only thing I could think of at that moment was one of very few Spanish words that I know: "Bienvenidos, Nelson," I said with a pat on his shoulder. He smiled and nodded his head.

At that point, the youth group began to sing Our God is an Awesome God, complete with vocal percussion. As it was starting to really get going, one of the seniors stopped everyone. She said, "We have a visitor among us. His name is Nelson; let's all welcome him." At that moment all of the kids surrounded him, knelt down and spoke warm words of acceptance to him. After Dan told the group about Nelson's struggles, we all surrounded him, laid our hands on him, and Dan led us in prayer.

I don't think he understood what was said, but Nelson seemed to understand our intentions--we wanted to bless this welcome stranger among us. Though separated by geography and language, God communicated to us all that night. I sense that we experience Christ in one of the least of these--and our kids sensed it as well. One of the girls began to cry. Others immediately embraced her--I really didn't know what was wrong. Afterward she told me. "Do you know whay I was crying?" she asked. "I wasn't crying because I was sad. I was crying because I had never blessed anyone like that before, and it make my heart so full, I had to cry."

Such is the effect when we encounter Jesus...among the least of these.

Thanks to the CBYG for demonstrating true community to one who has attempted to preach this concept for years!

Acappella in Concert: A Night to Remember

I'm beginning to realize that I must be among a small minority of 30 to 40 somethings who grew up in the Church of Christ tradition who never heard Acappella in concert. Until last Wednesday, I never have had the privilege of hearing this amazing group of guys live and in concert.

Now, I must admit that there was one compelling reason why I made every effort to hear Acappella in concert at the Univeristy Church in Tuscaloosa: my son, Allen, is the newest member of this phenomenal group. For the last year and a half, Allen sang bass with New Reign, the flagship acappella group at Oklahoma Christian University. Over the holidays, he was presented with the unique opportunity to join Acappella, a life-long dream of his. While this meant his giving up a full-tuition scholarship and leaving a wonderful academic community at OC, he sincerely felt like this was God's invitation to him. After much prayer and conversation with him, he took the offer to become the bass singer for Acappella, joining them this past January.

I'm like any dad, I suppose. I'm very proud of my son and have always supported his efforts. For some time, Carol and I knew that he was extremely gifted musically, both vocally and musically. Allen developed these gifts in high school, playing tuba in the High School band, taking piano classes, and singing in the choir. Also, CrossBridge has been a place where he was able to develop his vocal talents, singing on LifeSong since he was in the 8th grade.

I must say that I was absolutely amazed, not only at Allen, but all the musicians in Acappella. These guys not only put on a great show with a great message, they all have hearts for God. I left Tuscaloosa with a deep appreciation for Keith Lancaster's vision that has had many talented voices through the years, but always one great sound, and one great message. I'm proud that my son is a part of this Christ-focus group who presents the good news of Jesus through their performances. And, I'm primarily proud that Allen is using his God-given talents to the honor and glory of the One Who has gifted him.

I hope to see him--and Acappella--again very soon. May God bless this group as they travel around the world presenting the good news of Jesus in their unique, powerful way.

Allen, if you read this blog, I want you to know that your old dad loves you with all his heart and that he is very proud of the man of God that you have become!

Time For A New Blog

O.K. I know that my last blog had to do with Christmas and Christmas is now weeks past. Sheila, a good friend, reminded me of that fact in her latest comments. Honestly, I just haven't really felt like blogging lately. It's not that I'm tired of this whole blog thing or that I haven't had anything to say. Perhaps it's a touch of the post-Christmas blues that seems to grip me during the month of January. Perhaps, this blogging lacuna is the result of a number of stressers currently in my life--pretty heavy ministerial type matters along with a mamoth home repair project (rebuilding my chimney, perhaps more on that later).

Anyway, I really do look forward to this year. Already I've seen the hand of God in powerful ways. And, I've been reminded that when God shows up disruption often occurs. I pray that in 2006 I will exprience more holy disruptions and embrace them more fully. Also, I'll try to write a few more blogs every now and again.

O.k. Shelia, I hope you enjoy this new blog!

The Arrival of Jesus


In his introduction to The Message, a popular translation of the New Testament, Eugene Peterson made the following observation.

The arrival of Jesus signaled the beginning of a new era. God entered history in a personal way, and made it unmistakably clear that he is on our side, doing everything possible to save us. It was all presented and worked out in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. It was, and is, hard to believe—seemingly too good to be true.

But one by one, men and women did believe it, believed Jesus was God alive among them and for them. Soon they would realize that he also lived in them. To their great surprise they found themselves living in a world where God called all the shots—had the first word on everything; had the last word on everything. That meant that everything, quite literally every thing, had to be re-centered, re-imagined, and re-thought.

As we enter into the Christmas season, these words by Peterson are extremely relevant and worthy of sustained reflection. We must resist allowing the consumerist frenzy associated with this season to eclipse the astonishing events that Christmas represents for the Christian. It signals that God did “enter history in a personal way,” demonstrating that God truly is “on our side.” Yet is also reminds us that God’s continued presence means things have changed and that everything must be “re-centered, re-imagined and re-thought.”

During this Christmas season let’s take some time to intentionally reflect on what it means personally to us that God has entered, not only history, but our hearts. What needs to be re-centered or re-thought in our lives? Anything need to be re-imagined? God came to rule in the hearts of women and men—the very domain of His kingdom. May Christmas be a time when we acknowledge His lordship and re-centered our lives around Him. In so doing, we embrace the true gift of Christmas, and re-enter the beginning of a new era for our lives.

Community Thanksgiving Service

Last evening was the third time that CrossBridge has participated in an interdenominational Thanksgiving Service. Each time I experience this service, I'm reminded about how much Christians have in common. I'm grateful that God is opening my eyes to see His larger kingdom. I'm always prayerful that His Spirit will create unity in the body of Christ so that "the world might believe that God sent Jesus."

Thanks to Clark Skelton and Indian Springs Baptist Church for hosting this event. BTW, last year's Thanksgiving service was at the church where Bo Bice attended before his American Idol fame. He sang with the praise band, and gave a very moving testimony. I enjoyed talking with him after the service--he was a very genuine guy. I pray that, in his newly acquired fame, Jesus will continue to shine through him.

Back From the Pit: Dependent on Him

Well, I've experienced the Grand Canyon--or at least a small piece of it--once again. This year, my 10 year old daughter, Miranda, traveled with me to Arizona to plunge into the pit with her old dad. While she did not hike to the river with me, she did hike a total of 9 miles in one day--from the Bright Angel Trailhead to Indian Garden and back. My sister, Vicki, and I started out a little before 6:00 a.m. down the South Kaibab Trail. At the Colorado River, we took the River Trail over to the Bright Angel Trail and met up with Miranda, and my dad at Indian Garden. From there we made the 4 and 1/2 mile trek to the South Rim. This year we were out of the pit by 4:00 p.m.--nearly 3 and 1/2 hours earlier than last year.

Each year on this trip, God has shown up in a powerful way for me. And, typically, as with the prophet Isaiah, His self-disclosure has exposed serious shortcomings in my spiritual walk. As I've admitted before, I tend to be task oriented. I'm the kind of guy who, when I'm involved in a project, task, or goal, I become tremendously focused. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing. It becomes a weakness, however, when the task, project or goal becomes more imporant than people. And, often through our connection to people does God demonstrate His connnection to us.

While on my hike, I was so focused on accomplishing the task before me, I nearly missed out on experiencing Jesus once again. It happened while I was on the River Trail. This relatively level trail follows the Colorado River for about 1 and 1/2 miles. It joins the Bright Angel Trail at one of the suspended, foot bridges that spans the river. As Vicki and I were making our way along the trail, I noticed several hikers crossing this bridge. Admittedly, my gate lengthened and my pace quickened: I wanted to get ahead of these "slow pokes" on the trail.

I successfully passed the bridge before the leader of this slow-moving pack made it to the trail. We exchanged pleasantries as I walked by then, much to my chagrin, he asked if I could take a picture of his group for him. The hesitancy in my voice as I agreed to do so must have exposed my real feelings--I really didn't want to be bothered. After all, I was on a mission to conquer this hike in record time. Sensing my reluctance to stop, the leader excused me: "That's o.k.; sorry to bother you. All of our group isn't here yet anyway." At the moment I assured him that I'd be happy to take a picture for him, the rest of his group joined them on the bridge. "We're all here," the leader said. "Are you sure you don't mind taking a few pictures?" "No problem," I said, and I told my sister to go on ahead and I'd catch up to her in a few minutes.

I figured that I could take a couple of shots, return his camera and be back on the trail in less than 2 minutes. That's when I saw them. Carefully perched on a large rock beside the trail was a covey cameras. Of course, none of them was the old shoot an click variety. They all were digital, each with unique features and focusing mechanisms. I tried to keep my composure. Admittedly, I thought about just walking off: afterall, I'd probably never even see this group again. But, I suppressed those feelings and dutifully clicked off picture after picture using one camera after another. Of course, I had to get specialized instructions from each camera's owner as I moved from one camera to the next.

I finally clicked the last picture laid it down on the rock and literally starting jogging down the trail to catch up to my sister. After about 15 minutes, I joined up with Vicki, just as we arrived at a stony beach area where we had planned to take a break and soak our tired feet in the chilly Colorado River. Ah, it was heavenly. My feet were tired and burning from the steep, long climb down. I almost could nearly see smoke rise from the ends of my legs as I plunged my feet into the swift, cold water.

After relaxing for several minutes, we walked back to the Bright Angel Trail to begin the long climb to the South Rim of the Canyon. Just as we hit the trail, there they were. The group whose pictures I had taken nearly 40 minutes earlier had stopped for a break. I greeted them once again and, with tongue obviously in cheek, asked the leader if he'd like for me to take a few more pictures. He laughed, thanked me again, and declined my offer.

That's when he noticed my t-shirt. It was one of my oldest son's old shirts that he had gotten at a youth rally several years earlier. On the front was a singular word framed by two gothic crosses: "Dependent." The guy pointed at my shirt and asked: "Dependent on whom?" I simply raised my walking stick, pointed to the sky and said, "God." Now, you meet all kinds of people at the Grand Canyon. Some are devoted naturalists there to investigate this fortuitious formation of nature. Others are avowed atheists, some are mystics, others are Christians. I really didn't know what to expect when I said those words.

His response was powerful. "Ah, dependent on the Lord Jesus Christ, maker of heaven and earth. God bless you brother!" "Yes, the Lord Jesus Christ, " I said in response. "And God bless you, too, my brother." Whew! God did it again. He brought to my attention by this good brother that I had begun the day with a shirt vowing my utter dependence on Him. In my haste to accomplish the task before me, I had forgotten that vital reality. It took a stranger, equally tied to the master, to remind me of my avowed dependence on God.

I think that's part of what community is about. We all have the propensity to live independent lives--even when we deny doing so. The community of faith is to be a constant reminder that only "in Him do we live and move and have our being." Perhaps we should dust off the old ancient greeting: "The Lord be with you," the officiate would say to the congregants who then would respond, "And with you also." Then, may we walk our individual journeys connected to one another and to the One Who actually is with us. And, may our steps be ordered only by Him.

Into the Pit...Again

Tomorrow is a big day. My youngest daughter, Miranda, and I will fly out of Birmingham to Phoenix, Arizona. There, we will meet my sister and her husband and drive to the Grand Canyon where my mom and dad await us. This is the third consecutive year that I've gone to the Grand Canyon for the grueling trek to the river and back in one day...and I can't wait to go!

I'm especially looking forward to spending some time with my daughter. She's never flown before, so she's excited, and a little nervous. This shared experience together will create many opportunities for great conversation in years to come. She's such a wonderful daughter!

The "pit," is a favorite psalmist metaphor for inward turmoil created by difficult circumstances. This was a place from which the psalmists would cry out to Yahweh for deliverance. I've been in that pit many times, and it's not a good place to be.

The pit into which I will descend with my daughter is one that I look foward to experiencing again. This descent is marked by geographical upheavals that demonstrate the power of God. For me, it's a deeply spiritual experience.

While the psalmist would cry "out of the pit" for deliverence, this amazing pit summons praise to Him from deep within my soul. I'm reminded of His power, mercy and grace everytime of experience this amazing place. I, therefore, look forward to descending into the pit again.

Thanks so much to CrossBridge for allowing me such time of intense spiritual renewal. I will miss this family of God this Sunday.