The Work of the Pit

“They lowered Jeremiah by ropes into the cistern; it had no water in it, only mud, and Jeremiah sank down into the mud.”
(Jeremiah 38:6, NIV)

“The Lord corrects the people He loves and disciplines those He calls His own.”
(Hebrews 12:6, CEV)

“But God corrects us for our own good, because He wants us to be holy, as He is.”
(Hebrews 12:10b, CEV)

“It is never fun to be corrected. In fact, at the time it is always painful…”
(Hebrews 12:11a, CEV)

“…but later it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.”
(Hebrews 12:11b, ESV)

“It hasn’t been much fun, but the work that it has done in my life has made it worth the hurt.”
–from The Fire, by Deb (Jackson) Searles

“Trials are not an elective in the Christian life, they are a required course. Patience is accepting a difficult situation without giving God a deadline.”
(C.S. Lewis)

I mean, what kind of God…?

Really? When I’m already in a valley?

This pit? Are you kidding me?

Talk about insult to injury.

I repeat: what kind of God responds to the helpless cry of a person already at the end of their rope by saying “let go” only to drop them into a deeper well?

But for the grace of God, that could’ve been my attitude.

But on today, of all days, there’s something I want to say. I discovered something a few months ago. A refresher course, if you will. I learned that while I do not like the pit, I am loyally in love with the work of the pit.

As it happens, today is Saturday.

A year ago this very day, the sky was overcast with a dull, newspaper gray.  

Today is bright, sunny and rife with speechless beauty.

Last year I was the sickest I have ever been in my life.

Today I am whole, healthy and spectacularly alive. Soli deo gloria!

Last year, on this day, I was in a spiritual valley. As I recorded in my journal back then, “Bring peace, Lord. I am blessed you are there, Lord, to listen to and succor me in this dark valley. I confess I am helpless without You. Without You, I am dead. You are Life. Power. Supply. Resurrection. Peace. Everything.”

(All the things I would need Him to be, in short order.)

But that was then; this is now. Today, a year later, I stand astride a mountain peak, breathing in celestial air, resurrection life, keeping the pipes hot with songs of deliverance. I’m worshipping to the song I listened to a year ago–before I fell past a valley and into a pit.

I know I’m loved
I know I’m wanted
(I don’t want to insult the cross by not believing in Your Love)
I want to stare at the Face of Jesus
Look in His Eyes once more
Worship Him with all of my heart
For His Love is pounding on my door!

Then it was an assumption, today it is proof of life. Back then it was a truth, but now it’s THE Truth I have forever.

Once upon a time it was a doctrine I would die for. Now it is a blessing I live for.

What lesson have I discovered down there? It’s pretty cool. And I give it to you for free: The work of the pit has made it possible to experience another realm of glory, a new vista that amazes; it’s like I’ve gone from analog to digital, from standard definition to HD.

And getting more HD all the time.

But that’ll probably take some more pits. Or valleys. Or both.

Sorry, George Takei. Quattron may be the television we all just have to have, but my “oh my!” trumps yours, as good as yours is.

Eye has not seen…

Yes, that’s true.

But…

“these things God has revealed to us through His Spirit”
(1 Cor. 2:10)

If we’re teachable.

If we have ears to hear.

What have you learned in your pit?

Dad’s 80

It is said of only a select few in the scriptures that their names were “esteemed” in heaven. That smallish lot earned such praise because they obeyed God faithfully, served humbly and led principled, exemplary lives. Dad, we’ve no doubt your name is well-spoken of from one end of glory to the other, and this is our attempt to fittingly esteem your life in this side of eternity. And what a life it has been! Like Abraham, Job and David, your days have been full and your years have known the richness of a life greatly lived.

Eighty years ago, you were born beneath the thickening clouds of Great Depression yet the little boy with glacier-blue eyes and a mop of sandy-blonde hair atop his head smiled mischievously in the face of hard times and rose above with l’esprit de la vie beautifully marked by resilience, gusto, grit and the grace of God. The sorrows and difficulties of those early years only emblazoned the stuff of greatness deep in your being and tempered sensitivity and kindness from your heart. How blessed are we to say to the world: this man is our Dad!

You are a man of few words yet your life is a library of reference for splendid living. Not long ago, a man who was gifted with a golden tongue said “I talk and talk and talk, and I haven’t taught people in fifty years what my father taught by example in one week.” Hear, hear. We have learned much from your life, Dad. You are a living epistle of true wisdom that fits beautifully in your children’s hands. The cover is tenderly worn, the edges have gone from crisp to aged and the pages are dog-eared but only because there is so much of your life that is worth bookmarking. So much legacy to mine and plumb.

The Psalmist says, “The entrance of Thy words giveth light” (Psalm 119:130) to which your life, Dad, eloquently testifies. Each of us kids remember that same early morning liturgy rehearsed again and again across the years and how it has planted in us the hunger to know God more through the sacred scriptures.

There you sit, at the breakfast table, always before the early rays of morning gild the edges of the quiet pre-dawn, your head bowed over the Book of books; black coffee steams in a mug at your elbow but before a spoonful of cereal is raised to your mouth, God gets you first. This is how the morning greeted us! Could any other legacy be more necessary for a child? You read as though you were consuming food, for indeed you were, and your inner life glowed hotter than even the day before and not quite as much as it would the following morning. You read so the words would cleanse your soul and send you into the day with a vitality that was not your own.

Each day, every week, month after month and across the expanding bridge of decades, your life has gone up to God as a sweet savor of incense.  It might seem a strange thing to say of a grown man that he is sweet, and yet it so perfectly speaks of you. All who have ever known you, Dad, would agree when the record of your life is tallied, you come up a very sweet man. Sweet, as in, endearing. Winsome. Grace-filled. Affable. Kind.

Handsome, young and fresh out of the Air Force, it was 1953 and you made an amazing, life-changing discovery. Trapped inside a set of revolving doors at the YMCA of Harvey, Illinois, was a beautiful brunette that caught your eye. You tried to strike up a conversation with her but found her aloof and uninterested. Today, your kids are giddy with delight that you did not let this deter you. You Romancer you! You finally swept her off her feet and barely a year later, you married Mom on a glorious spring day, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death should separate you. A long and lasting home was established, beginning with the arrival of your firstborn, eleven months later.

That home became a little slice of heaven on earth, rooted and grounded in godliness, when you were gloriously reborn! Thank God for that little mission church in Calumet City that you, Mom and your little girl began attending, and thank God for the “angel that led you to the Lord”! That angel, of course, was Pastor Wayne Angel, and he saw you in that pew, trembling there under deep conviction, and he walked back to where you were standing, asked if you were ready to surrender your life to Jesus, and you said yes. Bless you, Dad, for saying yes!

In a society of dysfunctional families, it has been our singular fortune to not only be blessed with a Dad, but a very good Dad, a doting Dad with firm hand and loving heart, a godly Dad who has lived only to see his children say yes to Jesus also and establish their homes in Christ. Thank you, Dad, for caring enough to point out the way to us. We, too, have been led to the Lord by an angel.

And when we’ve heard you sing your testimony with songs like “I’d Rather Have Jesus” or “The Love of God” and “How Great Thou Art” in that deep, rich, bass voice of yours, we’ve heard what angels must sound like when they praise the Lamb who sits on the Throne. We know our Father in glory beams when He hears you sing. We sure do.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

May You hear the heavens sing over you this day.

Fond Farewell

The following are excerpts from my final blessing over the finest congregation a pastor could ever hope to minister before…Beloved, it’s been a swell gig…(thank You, Lord)…

Passing On the Mantle...

Seventeen years ago today, I began my pastoral ministry in Douglas County. I was 31 years young, with great ambition and vision. Some thought I was foolish to end a road ministry that was quite successful and pass into obscurity in the small town of Douglasville, Georgia. But the litmus test of success in God’s economy is not position but obedience and Sandy and I both knew God was calling us to a more localized ministry where we could invest our lives in a particular group of people for a prolonged period of time. The starry twinkle in my eyes forecasted I would see a church of hundreds emerge over a span of a few years and then, after 10 years, I would resume life out on the road.

But God said, “Not so fast, big boy.”

I soon discovered I was not in Douglasville to build a church so much as I was put here so God could “build the man.”

When God wants to drill a man, and thrill a man, and skill a man
When God want to mold a man to play the noblest part
When He years with all His heart to create so great and bold a man
That all the world shall praise
Watch His methods, watch His ways
How He ruthlessly perfects whom He royally selects
How He hammers him and hurts him
And with mighty blows converts him into frail shapes of clay which only God understands
How his tortured heart is crying and he lifts beseeching hands
How he bends but never breaks when God’s good he understands
How He uses whom He chooses
And with every purpose fuses him
And by every act induces him to try His splendor out
God knows what He’s about!

Mrs. Pastor with one of her "girls"

When God wants to take a man and shake a man and wake a man…
When God wants to make a man to do the future’s will;
He tries with all His skill…
When He yearns with all His soul to create him large and whole…
With what cunning He prepares him…
How He goads and never spares him! How He whets him and He frets him and in poverty begets him…
How often He disappoints whom He sacredly anoints!
With what wisdom He will hide him;
Never minding what betide him…
Though his genius sob with slighting and his pride may not forget;
Bids him struggle harder yet!
Makes him lonely so that only God’s high messages shall reach him…
So that He may surely teach him what the hierarchy planned;
And though he may not understand…
Gives him passions to command.
How remorselessly He spurs him…
With terrific ardour stirs him
When He poignantly prefers him.

When God wants to name a man and fame a man and tame a man…
When God wants to shame a man to do His Heavenly best;
When He tries the highest test that His reckoning may bring…
When He wants a god or king;
How He reins him and restrains him so his body scarce contains him…
While He fires him and inspires him…
Keeps him yearning, ever burning for that tantalizing goal.
Lures and lacerates his soul…
Sets a challenge for his spirit;
Draws it highest then he’s near it!
Makes a jungle that he clear it;
Makes a desert that he fear it…and subdue it, if he can –
So doth God make a man!
Then to test his spirit’s wrath, Throw a mountain in his path;
Puts a bitter choice before him and relentlessly stands o’er him…
Climb or perish, so He says…
But, watch His purpose, watch His ways.
God’s plan is wondrous kind – could we understand His mind?
Fools are they who call His blind!

When his feet are torn and bleeding;
Yet his spirit mounts unheeding…
Blazing newer paths and finds;
When the Force that is Divine leaps to challenge every failure,
And His ardour still is sweet –
And love and hope are burning in the presence of defeat!
Lo the crisis, Lo the shouts that would call the leader out…
When the people need salvation doth he rise to lead the nation;
Then doth God show His plan…
And the world has found a man!

                                                             (Anonymous)

God was gracious to add seven more years to my ten to finish the work and on April 10 of this year, I heard Him say “Your work here is finished.” Somewhere along the journey we’ve managed to make ready for the Lord a core of people prepared for His coming, yes, but there has been a long and lasting work done in my wife and me. We are not the same people we were 17 years ago. Character has deepened. Faith has been strengthened. A life of more “apartness” and “otherness” is being realized compared to when we first began this journey.

For those who know us best, the past few years have been some of the hardest of our ministry lives, beginning in 2002. Pressures from within and without, destructive forces working against us, loss of hope, sleepless nights, tears seemingly without end. Perhaps the most difficult years, yes, but we stand before you with the testimony that they have been necessary and we have learned to Praise Him in the Storm. Continue reading Fond Farewell