Time to Pray

In case you didn’t know, it takes about six hours to push mow a little more than an acre. My wife and I were blessed to buy a house in corn country in our move to Southern Indiana. Our new home is situated on about an acre. The lawn is a big change from the doll-sized townhouse, which had a yard with the same surface area as our kitchen table.

Since the previous owners of our new home were not the least bit motivated to trim the grass after we made an offer, it came with shin-high foliage. So that first weekend I was going to give home ownership a whirl with some yard work. After a trip to Home Depot, I was well-equipped with a 22 cc Echo trimmer and a Ryobi 205 mph velocity blower. What I lacked was a man-sized mower. But I figured I could push mow the flat-as-a-frying-pan lot fairly quickly. I was wrong.

What began as a relaxing day in the yard got quite old after several hours of mowing, and mowing, and mowing, and mowing. My wife, who had earlier gone yard sale-ing, came home to see me circling the yard in a rabid mowing frenzy. The back-and-forth cadence is enough to drive anyone mad.

“I’m going to get a decent walk-behind this week.”

“Ok, honey,” she knew that I couldn’t say anything about money spent at the next year’s worth of yard sales if I was going to buy a new, bigger, badder, mower.

I am ecstatic to report that tomorrow I will become the proud owner of a Red Hawk 48” 18 HP belt-driven 603 pound 5-speed grass-shredding machine. No more wimpy push mower for me.

The connection between mowing and praying I know is not an easy one to make - unless, of course, you are my wife praying that I don’t kill myself with my new mowing monster. But what I became convicted of during my devotional time was that I spent more time behind a mower this week than on my knees in prayer. If you were to compare my prayer life to my time spent in front of the TV, it would be even worse ratio.

It seems so easy to write-off our prayer life, blaming it on a lack of time. I hear of prayer warriors spending two-hours a day in prayer, and my initial reaction is “how do they find the time?” But then I realize that I spend 6 hours a week in yard work, 1-2 hours a day working out, an additional 1-2 hours a day glued to the boob tube, and another hour a day reading…every bit of it is selfish time.

Where’d the time go? It was spent on me. My prayer time/selfish time ratio is quite poor.

But the Lord delights in the prayer of the upright. The Lord of the universe actually listens to us. And we are to be persistent in prayer. We are to pray constantly.

One of Satan’s greatest tools is time. He tells us that we have plenty of time to get back on track, no need to hurry. He tells us that there will be plenty of time to serve our Lord later. And he uses our own selfish endeavors to lead us to believe that there is no time to pray. What are some ways for you to improve you prayer time ratio? While we need to “be still” and pray in a quite place, I find personally that praying while running, mowing, and driving helps me maintain a better perspective.

Hitchhiking, Moving, and a Little Bit of Nice Goes a Long Way

After packing two or three boxes, I was ready for dinner. Two weeks ago my wife and I were in the middle of stuffing corrugated cardboard full of our most precious belongings wrapped in the Sunday funnies. Moving is excitingly painful.

Erin had volunteered for one of the chaperone posts at our church’s student lock-in. She in turn volunteered me to finish packing our 900 square foot cracker box. We had finally sold our place, bought another, and were moving on up to Southern Indiana, closer to our church where we serve.

My stomach told me that dinnertime had arrived. Reverting back to bachelorhood, I popped a frozen pizza pie in the oven. Upon removal from the 425-degree heated appliance, I realized that the delicious pepperoni circle needed a cohort. So I went to the local jiffy-rip up the road to grab a quick soda.

I did something I never do…I left the keys in the truck with the ignition running while I selected a diet coke from the wall-o-soda. Walking back to my truck, I reached for the door handle. Literally a millisecond before I pulled the plastic lever, the automatic lock decided to engage all on its own. The sound of *click* seemed to echo throughout the premise.

I looked around to see if it was some lame joke, or a candid camera moment. Nothing. I was the only one in the parking lot. It was just me, my cell phone in hand, my diet coke in the other hand, and my running 2003 Toyota Tacoma with locked doors, mocking me with the sound of the rumbling engine.

I could only conclude that the truck was momentarily possessed. After repeated attempts at prayer for the door to magically unlock as it had magically locked, I tried a couple of automobile-exorcisms to no avail.

So I took the chip off my shoulder and called my wife. She did not answer her cell phone. I then swallowed all my pride and called my associate pastor. No answer from his end of the cell exchange.

At the moment of deep desperation, a scraggly-looking fellow in a laundry-mat truck pulled up beside me and asked if I needed help. I told him my tale. He laughed heartily. He then offered me a ride back home.

In one of my brighter moments, I had placed a magnetic box under my truck with a spare key to the house. I grabbed it and jumped in his truck. His cabin dog growled at me with a menacing-mutt-look the entire way back to my townhouse.

“Don’t mind her too much,” he said. “She thinks this truck is hers.”

“Sure thing,” I decided to hug my door.

My place wasn’t too far away. But when we arrived, I realized that the spare key to my truck was stowed somewhere in one of the myriad boxes piled up around the condo.

“Give me three minutes, then you can leave,” I negotiated.

“Three minutes, it is.”

I ran into the guest bedroom, looking for the box that might contain my buried treasure. A twinge of guilt ran through me. I should’ve helped my wife pack. Then I’d know where the spare key is. Too late now…

Then I saw the box. “Office Supplies” marked clearly on the top. I tore into it, turned it upside down. Paper clips, buttons, pens, pencils, and hundreds of miniscule items bounced across the room. I had made a giant mess, and the keys were nowhere to be found.

A wave of enlightenment hit me as I heard the laundry-mat guy honking. Maybe my wife left the spare keys in the desk drawer. I opened the drawer. There they were. All alone. I guess she realized we might need the spare set. She was right.

I ran back out to the truck as my laundry-mat angel was turning around to leave. I hopped in and hitched a ride back to my truck, which was still burning 87-octane. I thanked my Good Samaritan for the ride. He smiled back.

The following Sunday I told my church through this story how a little bit of nice can go a long way. Not that I would recommend offering rides to strangers, but he made my day. If I were an unbeliever, my heart would have been ready for a gospel presentation after such a gesture.

No doubt, God reminded me about both His sovereignty and His sense of humor. That day I saw how the two collide at times. More importantly, the Lord showed me what it means to reach out to people, even in small ways. Whether or not this fellow was Christian, I do not know. But it was his goodwill that made me willing to hearing his story if he had chosen to tell it. It was the laundry-mat-trucker-guy and his growling companion that opened this pastor’s eyes a bit to what sustains true ministry – meeting the needs of a dying world so that the gospel message can be shared and a lost people eternally saved.

If you haven’t offered a kind and random act of compassion lately, look for such opportunities. Then pray that the Lord will open doors for His message through your obedience and thoughtfulness.

This is What It’s All About

I love what I do! Being a pastor is such a joy. While the fickle complaints and occasional backbiting occurs, I am blessed to have a congregation that by-and-large supports me and their fellow believer. We certainly have areas in our church where we can improve, but I am impressed by the resiliency of the people and the desire to return to health.

Exemplified this week at Vacation Bible School, the church united around the common goal of seeing children come to Christ. One child came forward today for baptism, and we are expecting three more to make public professions of faith shortly. Today a father stood with his son in front of the church, and with tears flowing shared how proud he is of his son’s decision to accept Christ. These moments are what ministry is all about.

Such moments should unify a church around the primary cause of the gospel. Like the four men who carried their paralyzed friend on a stretcher to see Christ, we all need to be “stretcher-bearers.” It took four faithful friends to haul this man to Christ. And it takes a unified church to win for Jesus a community and world.

Quite frankly, we have too many divides within our churches and not enough bridges. Whether you’re a Calvinist or Arminian, continualist or cessationist, part of a small church or a mega-church, involved in denominational politics or not, contemporary, traditional, or emergent, whether you read the NIV, RSV, KJV, NASB, or HSCB, or whether you’re red, yellow, black, or white, our focus should be on the primary business of sharing the saving grace of Jesus with a lost world. We could all rub off our personal agendas on the welcome mat in the church foyer.

Many churches, mine included, have a journey in front of them before they become “healthy.” But I praise God for the congregations that are dutifully and passionately working towards equipping the saints, sharing with the lost, and discipling followers of Christ. After all, it’s what being a Christian is all about.

Service of Passionate Devotion

I am reading Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest as part of my daily devotional time. The following excerpt from today’s reading struck me. If you have not read this classic devotional, it is one of the most encouraging and challenging books ever written.

“Lovest thou Me? . . . Feed My sheep.” John 21:16

Jesus did not say - Make converts to your way of thinking, but look after My sheep, see that they get nourished in the knowledge of Me. We count as service what we do in the way of Christian work; Jesus Christ calls service what we are to Him, not what we do for Him. Discipleship is based on devotion to Jesus Christ, not on adherence to a belief or a creed. “If any man come to Me and hate not . . . , he cannot be My disciple.” There is no argument and no compulsion, but simply - If you would be My disciple, you must be devoted to Me. A man touched by the Spirit of God suddenly says - “Now I see Who Jesus is,” and that is the source of devotion.

To-day we have substituted credal belief for personal belief, and that is why so many are devoted to causes and so few devoted to Jesus Christ. People do not want to be devoted to Jesus, but only to the cause He started. Jesus Christ is a source of deep offence to the educated mind of to-day that does not want Him in any other way than as a Comrade. Our Lord’s first obedience was to the will of His Father, not to the needs of men; the saving of men was the natural outcome of His obedience to the Father. If I am devoted to the cause of humanity only, I will soon be exhausted and come to the place where my love will falter; but if I love Jesus Christ personally and passionately, I can serve humanity though men treat me as a door-mat. The secret of a disciple’s life is devotion to Jesus Christ, and the characteristic of the life is its unobtrusiveness. It is like a corn of wheat, which falls into the ground and dies, but presently it will spring up and alter the whole landscape (John 12:24).

Winning the Next Generation for Christ

The church needs to be in crisis mode. At the Southern Baptist Convention last week I learned a scary statistic. Of the “Builder” generation (those that fought in WWII), about 65% were Christians. Of the “Boomer” generation, about 35% were Christians. Of GenXers, about 15% are Christians. And of the youngest generation, it is estimated that only 4-8% are Christians.

I think we can all admit that we could do a better job of reaching the world. But quite frankly, we aren’t reaching our own children for Christ in our own homes. Recent research shows that teenagers are more confused than ever about what it takes to get to heaven. As with many churches, the smallest ministry in my church is our college ministry. We simply aren’t conveying the gospel message in a relevant, clear, and uncompromising way.

The church needs to refocus. We cannot be content with losing more of the next generation to the world. And in many ways the church has become its own biggest enemy. At times, unnecessary tradition can supersede much needed relevancy. Our complacency overshadows our boldness for the gospel.

But hope remains. Our optimism as Christians should shine bright – we can be eternal optimists proclaiming the greatest news to a dark and confused world. Methods may have to change; we may have to converse in a different vernacular. But the gospel of Christ is unchanging, resolute, perfect, and always culturally relevant.

Yesterday, I baptized a seven-year-old girl. Her parents had been faithful in sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with her from a young age. I also dedicated three babies to the Lord yesterday. The challenge to the church and to the parents was simple – raise these children in Christian homes so that they may hear the gospel message as much as possible. When I dedicate a child to the Lord, I write them a letter to be opened after they accept Christ. I hope one day to hear that they read my letter and that they want to be baptized. Nothing would make me happier as a pastor than to baptize someone whom I dedicated to the Lord as a child.

There’s always hope. Just because we’ve been losing a battle over the next generation doesn’t mean that it has to continue. This battle is fought in our own homes as well as on the mission fields of the world. We must be faithful about praying with our children, having family devotional times, and telling our children about Jesus, His message, and how He saves.

*At the Southern Baptist Convention last week, no one was more passionate, more direct, and bolder than Ed Stetzer about how SBC churches (though applicable to all churches) should reach the next generation for Christ You can view his message here (scroll down to “Challenge”). I encourage you to watch it.