No Room Inn: My Heart

Eugene Higgins: “There Was No Room For Them In The Inn”

Christmas Day marks the end of the season of Advent. I regularly remind our church that Advent is the time in which the Church remembers Jesus’ first-coming while we eagerly await his second coming. During this time I also try convincing my church family I remembered 3 years of high school Latin by explaining “Advent” comes from the Latin “Adventus,” a word describing the arrival of an important Roman leader (especially the Emperor, into a city). Christians who use liturgical worship elements [if you’re not familiar with that term, picture worship elements in so-called “high church” traditions such as Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Anglican, etc.] like the Lectionary. Lectionaries are ways of methodically reading through Bible passages, often in a 3-year pattern. Christians who follow the Lectionary read special Advent Bible passages during this time.
For many Christians, the days preceding Christmas are all about “Baby Jesus.” But the Advent Lectionary passages (and the season of Advent, itself) remind us about “Glorious Jesus”- when Jesus will return, not as a humble baby but as a king in all his glory. Language in passages like Mark 13, Luke 21, Isaiah 64, 1 Thessalonians 3, Psalm 72, and several more Advent Readings describe God as a King and a Judge (often synonymous in ancient times).

The last book in our Bible, Revelation, also mentions Jesus’ Second Arrival. It uses language reminiscent of an Emperor returning to Rome– Adventus– after a great victory. He wears a long robe, rides on a horse, trumpets blast, burning incense is in the air, attendants surround him and sing his praises, etc.
Christians live in the time between the two Advents: Our King came to town once, and hardly anyone realized it. But it’s understandable we missed his first coming. His arrival was so simple, so “lowly and meek.” For the first 9 months he was literally hidden away in his mother’s womb. And his mother was a poor teenage girl from a conquered ethnic minority. Of course, we didn’t notice or expect his arrival…at least not that way.
But we Christians won’t miss Jesus’ second Advent. How could you miss that? Trumpet blasts, coming on the clouds, apocalyptic horses, a sword coming out of his mouth. The imagery in Revelation just gets weirder and weirder. But the Bible clearly tells us his arrival will be a surprise. We may know (or think we know) what Jesus’ Second Coming will look like. We may think we know what world events must happen before Jesus returns. But Jesus often reminded his hearers our knowledge is too limited to predict his arrival. He will return “like a thief” in the night– in other words, when we don’t expect it.
This is why fasting was a Christian Advent tradition in some corners of the Early Church. In Mark 13, Jesus told his disciples to “keep watch” and “be alert” as they awaited “the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory.” Few things keep you awake and clear away drowsiness than an empty stomach. Hunger pains during Advent kept Christians sharp as they awaited Christ’s return. Eventually, we Christians did away with Advent Fasting and replaced this season with a time of Advent Feasting. We now ingest twice our necessary calories from Thanksgiving through Christmas, ensuring a prolonged season of weight gain, sleepiness, and roller-coaster blood sugar levels from too many sweets. Our Christian forefathers didn’t know what they were missing.
We don’t need fasting to mentally and spiritually prepare for Christ’s return. We have the Left Behind books. Bible prophecy interpreters teach us understand how Russia’s most recent actions are clearly predicted from Scripture. [If you don’t know me well, the previous few sentences are Sarcasm.]
In spite of the Bible’s seemingly spectacular descriptions of Christ’s Second Coming, I wonder if some of us still might not notice his arrival. After all, the Bible has many miraculous events where other Biblical characters do not see or do not properly understand, even some God-followers. In 2 Kings 6, God sends “horses and chariots of fire” to help the prophet Elisha. The chariots line the hilltops surrounding the prophet. The scene could be something out of the book of Revelation. But Elisha’s servant, another follower of God, does not see the chariots of fire. Jesus comes to the Apostle Paul (then, still known as Saul) with a (literally) blinding light that knocks Saul off his horse. As Saul lies on the ground, he hears Jesus speaking to him. The two have a short conversation. But Acts 22 says the men accompanying Paul saw the light but “did not understand the voice of him who was speaking.” Presumably, thousands of people saw the Bethlehem star, but only a few wise men had a clue of that star’s significance. The ancient Bible scholars in King Herod’s court knew exactly where the Messiah was to be born, but they didn’t know the Messiah already was born.
Today, I’ll suggest one reason so many of God’s people didn’t see or expect Jesus’ first coming and why many may not see his Second Coming. A monk named Bernard of Clairvaux who lived from 1090-1153 spoke of Three Advents. The First Advent was the First Arrival of Jesus—Christmas. The Second Advent is Jesus’ future return. But Bernard said the Third Advent is Jesus’ daily arrival into our hearts, if we have room for him, that is. Bernard had a sharp tongue as he described others’ Christmas preparations. You get the idea he spent all Advent in prayer and fasting…and that he probably would have trashed your family Christmas card as an ‘unnecessary extravagance.’ Of Christians’ Advent celebrations, here’s this cheerful excerpt:
…the remembrance of this condescension is turned into pretext for the flesh. During those days you may see them preparing splendid clothes and special foods with utmost care—as if Christ at his birth would be seeking these and other such things and would be more worthily welcomed where they are more elaborately offered! Listen to [Christ] as he says… “Why do you so ambitiously prepare clothes for my birthday? Far from embracing pride, I detest it. Why do you so assiduously store up quantities of food for this season? Far from accepting pleasures of the flesh, I condemn them. As you celebrate my coming, you honor me with your lips, but your heart is far from me.… Unhappy is the person who worships pleasure of the body and the emptiness of worldly glory; but happy the people whose God is the Lord.”
I would not have invited Bernard of Clairvaux to my Christmas party. I’d also probably hide him from my Facebook feed.
I experienced a Third Advent a few months ago when a young, unmarried pregnant woman and her future husband needed help and a place to stay. I met the young woman as she asked for help in a grocery store parking lot. Jesus came to me when as she met me that day, but there was no room for Him in my heart. Or maybe I should say ‘No Room Inn: My Heart.’ To ensure I’m not one of those who miss Jesus’ Second Arrival, the way so many missed his first Arrival, you have to make room in your heart for his Daily Arrival. A few days after my encounter in that parking lot, Jesus also visited one of our church family members when she met that same woman. She lives 30 minutes from our church, but just happened to be in the neighborhood that day. Jesus found room in her heart when he didn’t find room in mine.
As you read the email I sent to our church family several months ago, remember another young unmarried pregnant woman and the man traveling with her who found no room in the inn.
[I’m so proud of this church member that I could shout her name from the rooftops. But I’ve removed all mentions of her name below She’s just too modest.]
“Almost two weeks ago, I was walking out of Walmart when a young pregnant woman walked to my car asking for a few dollars. I told her I didn’t have any cash, which I didn’t. She didn’t ask me for any other help. She only asked for cash. Maybe she did need help, but she didn’t ask for any other help. Since I didn’t have any cash, I couldn’t help her. It was simple as that. Then I quickly got in my car and pulled out. I immediately heard the Holy Spirit say, “Go find her and offer to help.” I made a half-hearted drive back one parking aisle to find her. After obeying God for all of 20 seconds, I gave up. I didn’t see her as I looked right and left while driving down that one aisle. Besides, I was in a hurry. We don’t have to obey God if it inconveniences us, right??
This Wednesday, ______ ________ called me. She asked if I could meet her over at the Whataburger by Kroger. ______ and her friend _________ met a young homeless woman who was in need. They then met her boyfriend. ________ and __________ took this homeless couple to lunch. When I arrived, the two women were both on their smart phones looking up motels and bus fare they could buy for the couple to travel back home to Phoenix. The man wanted to ‘pay it forward’ by giving ________ the bicycle he would not be able to transport on the bus. __________ called me to take the bicycle back to the church, where we could store it until we found someone who needed it.
I met _________’s new homeless friends. The man looked about my age. His girlfriend looked to less than 25 years old and…was pregnant. Have you figured it out yet? The young pregnant woman I didn’t have time to help was the same woman now sitting across from __________ at Whataburger. God found an obedient person willing to adjust their schedule and help this woman.
Well-meaning pastors have said things like, “you may be the only expression of Jesus a person ever meets,” or “if you don’t obey God and help them, no one will.”I disagree. God can use any “hands and feet” he chooses to administer his will in this world. In the book of John, Jesus reminds us his father is always at work. And make no mistake, God WILL work in this world.
Do you remember my last email, in which I asked you to prayerfully consider how God wants you to participate in what the Spirit is doing at our church? As you pray that prayer, be like ________. Don’t be like me. Obey God’s leading, even if it’s inconvenient or feels uncomfortable. God WILL reach people in our community with the radical power of a life-transforming Gospel. And his plan won’t be stopped. If you don’t participate, God will simply find others in (or yet-to-be in) our church to serve this community. Jesus wanted someone from our church to help that woman. Since I didn’t help, Jesus found another church member willing to obey. You and I have the privilege to join God in his plan, like __________. Or, we can miss a wonderful opportunity to follow the Holy Spirit’s direction, join God’s work, and serve the least of these. Thank you, _________, for reminding us to follow the Holy Spirit’s directions, even if those directions include “Buy them lunch, a motel, and bus fare home.” ________, I’m proud to be your pastor.

My dear friends. Jesus came 2000 years ago—the First Advent. Jesus will come again in glory—the Second Advent. But don’t expect to see his Glorious Arrival if you reject his Daily Arrivals The Third Advent. That day God reminded me if my heart is the “No Room Inn,” Jesus will find somewhere or someone else… be it a manger or another person. But He wants to find room in my heart and in yours.
Jesus is Coming. Let Him In.

Merry Christmas

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” Revelation 3:20

 

 

Behold the Bridegroom cometh in the middle of the night,
And blessed is he whose loins are girt, whose lamp is burning bright;
But woe to that dull servant, whom the Master shall surprise
With lamp untrimmed, unburning, and with slumber in his eyes.

–“Behold The Bridegroom Cometh”  Trans. Gerard Moultrie, 1867.

He Knows My Name, So I Learn Theirs

 

man-with-cap-and-beard
We were backing out of the garage one morning when we saw a man walking to the bus stop. We turned right  on the major road beside our house. At an intersection, we saw another man crossing the road. My 3-year-old asked, “who’s that, Daddy?”
We saw two men, but my son only assumed I knew one of them. Both were the same ethnicity. Both were wearing jeans and a t-shirt. One looked like he would spend his day at a workplace with minimal dress code. The other man looked like he’d worn those clothes for weeks. One was homeless. The other looked like he had a job and a place to call home.
Interesting…my 3-year-old has already learned to guess who is homeless by their clothing. Even more interesting? My son assumes I know any homeless person we see.

Two weeks ago, a homeless man I’ve known for 3 years attended our church’s Sunday morning service. He was sober the entire service. About 3 minutes after he left our service, a deacon from a church that rents our main sanctuary came to find me. I was at home with a dozen other church leaders. I was about to start an important meeting.

The deacon (who knows the homeless man’s alcoholic past) says my friend is extremely drunk and had just been escorted out the front door. “Impossible,” I reply. I leave our church leaders to wait at my house as I walk to the main building. Someone else stops me and I’m caught up in a conversation. A minute later, another usher says people found my friend having a seizure in overflow parking across the street. They called 911. I walk across the street.
Several people stand gathered around him as he sits on the pavement. No one standing around knew who he was. I walk to my friend still sitting the ground and say his name. One of the passersby then asks me, “You know this man?”

I send a text to cancel the important meeting. The seizure temporarily disabled my friend’s speech abilities. He needs someone with him who knows his name. I know some of his medical history. I should share what I know with the paramedics.

My 3-year-old and our 100-pound chocolate lab are walking at the park by our church. We see the same man I’ve seen countless times in our area. Whenever he’s at the park, he’s always alone at the same picnic table. It’s the picnic table farthest away from people. Several bags lay around him. The man is wearing the same clothes I’ve seen him wear since July. He never talks to anyone. We’ve made two laps around the park and no one has yet spoken to him. Not even the other guys from the street know him, and that’s very unusual. It seems he is a true Loner.

I decide to introduce myself. I push the stroller off the walking path towards the picnic table. Even in the open air and with a light breeze, his odor is strong. A half-eaten box of iced Halloween cookies from the grocery store sits on the table. Halloween was last week. Guys on the street know store employees sometimes give away expired food to them instead of throwing it in the dumpster at night. I give him a big smile. His smile is weak and unsure.

He’s probably wondering if I’m just one more parent who will shew him away from the children. I introduce myself, my son, and our dog to him. He tells me his name but barely makes eye contact. I explain I decided to say hi since I see him so often. He nods. I ask him if he’s living on the streets. He extends his arm and says  “over there,” pointing towards a neighborhood filled with $200,000-250,000 homes. He mumbles something about saving money to buy a car. I say goodbye and we continue our walk.

During our short conversation, and the rest of our time at the park, the man keeps rubbing a shaving razor against his stubble. It reminds me of my sleepy son rubbing his luvee (a miniature blanket topped with a stuffed animal’s head) against his face. He’s not really shaving, just rubbing it against his face.

As I push the stroller around the walking path, my son asks why the man was sitting at the park.

“He’s homeless.”

“Homeless? What’s that?”

“It means he doesn’t have a home.”

“Why doesn’t he have a home?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh. Okay. Can we play now?”

Before leaving, I loudly yell goodbye to the man from across the playground. I’m loud on purpose. I want other parents to hear me. It’s my way of saying, “This homeless man has a name and is not someone you should fear.” I hope other parents at the playground will see me, a white man with my All-American family dog and a pre-schooler, talking to this awkward black homeless man on the bench.

I hope my conversation with him encourages other parents to start conversations, instead of casting suspicious stares.  At the very least, I hope it discourages others from reporting him to the police for loitering.
Back at the house my son says, “Daddy, tell Mommy about the man at the picnic table.”

“Who is that man, Daddy?”

“That’s _________, son.”


“You know this man?”

“Yeah, I know _________. He’s my friend. He attended our church this morning.”


“Daddy, tell Mommy about the man at the picnic table.”

“We met ____________ today at the park.”

 

In the New Testament, the Gospel of Luke tells a story about Zacchaeus. I can’t type his name without thinking of the children’s church song describing him as a “wee little man.” He heard Jesus was on his way and wanted to see him. But Zacchaeus was short and couldn’t see Jesus over the crowds. So he climbed a tree. When Jesus came to the tree, “he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today” ” (Luke 19:5). Verse 7 says,  “All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He [Jesus] has gone to be the guest of a sinner.” He calls the notorious tax collector by name and invites himself to dinner.

I’m sure everyone in town knew Zacchaeus’s name. Many families living there had to interact with him, or one of his employees, when they paid taxes. But hated people like Zacchaeus are often called by more…colorful terms. Ask a homeless person all the hateful names thrown at them. But Jesus has no use for the mean terms and labels of this world. He simply addresses Zacchaeus by his name.

I’m also sure plenty of taller people on that day knew Zacchaeus was trying to get a peek at Jesus. How do you not notice when a notorious and hated tax cheat is standing in your presence?? But they probably did what we do with “distasteful” people in our society today, we pretend they aren’t there. If you pretend the “wee little man” isn’t standing there, you don’t have to step aside for him to see Jesus. It’s that easy. Completely ignore him.

Recently, I laid out a list of important life practices with our church family. I’ve encouraged our people to go where Jesus goes, say what Jesus would say, and do what Jesus would do.  One item in the list of practices is “Teach others weekly how to be Jesus’ disciple.” A few posts ago, I mentioned I need to practice what I preach. We preachers are often bad at practicing what we preach. But you already knew that.

So I’m teaching my son what it means to be Jesus’ disciple. I do it in simple ways a 3-year-old understands. The same day we met the man at the picnic table, I told my son how Jesus gave us great weather for walking at the park. Jesus’ disciples thank him for simple blessings. We prayed together, “Thank you Jesus for the good weather.” It’s disciple-making, 10 seconds at a time.

I NEVER thought I’d be a pastor who spent much time befriending the homeless. I wasn’t against the idea. I just literally never thought about it. But there’s a lot of things I now thing about as I pastor in a diverse community.

Thankfully, my son is also learning one more way to be Jesus’ disciple…learning the names of people our society considers “the least of these.” For my sweet 3-year-old, meeting a homeless man is an exciting part of life with daddy, not something distasteful or annoying. He wants to tell Mommy who we met. He now thinks Daddy knows all the homeless men.  I believe Jesus would take the time to learn their names, so I take time to learn their names. And I’m teaching my son their names.

I cannot solve Homelessness. But I can befriend the homeless in my community, as Jesus has befriended me. As Jesus speaks with his disciples in John 15:15 he says, “I have called you friends.” And what friend doesn’t know your name?

Jesus befriended me, so I befriend them. Jesus knows my name, so I learn theirs.

 *Stock photo

“When first I heard His bles-sed voice,

Sin filled my heart with shame.

But now, forgiven, I rejoice–

He knows my name.

–“He Knows Me By Name” William M. Lighthall, 1908

 

Pastor With A Plunger, Practicing the Presence


I woke up yesterday morning on the couch. A fussy, swaddled two-week old is finally asleep on my chest. Our 3-year-old sits next to me. He’s been watching train videos on the iPad for 30 minutes…while I slept. Whoops. Don’t tell his mother. She’s asleep in the bedroom, recovering from a very long night.

I hurriedly get our red-haired train fanatic ready for Mother’s Day Out. Momma does this faster than me. But she’s busy nursing the baby. I hear crying from the back seat during our entire 8 minute car ride. He wanted to stay home today. We arrive 10 minutes late.

On my way home, I stop by a homeless hideout. It’s behind a row of businesses. A man I’ve been working with is in his sleeping bag. He doesn’t think the help I’ve offered him is enough. So he’s back here again, trying to make it on his own, sleeping by the dumpsters.  I wake him up and we talk for a while.

A few weeks ago, a drug dealer came here and offered one of the guys $1,000/week, an apartment, and a BMW. All this homeless man had to do was make some weekly “deliveries.” He rejected the dealer’s offer and immediately called my cell. He needed encouragement that he’d just made the right decision. Fast food employees go in and out a back door, taking trash to the dumpsters. They recognize the homeless man, but not me. I wonder what they’re thinking as I see them steal furtive glances my way. Who do they think I am? Another drug dealer? A friend? 

I try having a meaningful conversation as I sit on the dirt. But I’m also watching out for ants that may bite my leg at any second.

My offer of help is politely refused today (but accepted later that night, before the rainstorm comes). I get back in the car and head for home.

I see I’ve missed two phone calls and two texts. I’m needed at church. A storage closet is locked and I’m the Keeper Of The Keys.

I pull into the garage just as someone else is pulling up to our front door. It’s a kind friend who’s donating her double stroller to us. She shows us how to use it, then asks me how to best help when people ask for money on the streets. That woman yesterday in the grocery store parking lot…should she have given her money? Is that just enabling addictions?

I encourage her to ask the Holy Spirit for guidance in each interaction. Lancaster Street has three organizations that can truly help them. Beyond that, I have no good answers.

Two more missed texts. I forgot about the locked storage closet. I’ve now kept a person waiting at church for 45 minutes. Whoops. I go unlock the door.

I’m now talking with a homeless man who’s working inside. I’m paying him a little to help us at church. We’re interrupted…The women’s bathroom in our building’s old section flooded.

A sink won’t drain. A slow stream of water filled the wash basin all night, even with the faucets turned off. And the shutoff valve underneath is rusted stuck. It’s a trifecta of plumbing woes.

As weird as it sounds, this is a pretty normal morning for me.

I grab a plunger. The wet carpet sloshes beneath my feet. I begin plunging the sink.

Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.

Nasty brown debris comes out of the drain. It’s just rust…I hope.

I suddenly remember Brother Lawrence, a 17th century monk. A priest compiled a list of Lawrence’s personal resolutions, from what we would call ‘journal entries.’ The man also transcribed several conversations he had with Brother Lawrence. Lawrence’s writings and conversations became known as a work entitled The Practice of the Presence of God.

Brother Lawrence served as a cook in his monastery for many years. An old injury and limp eventually forced Lawrence to take a job with less standing — mending monk’s old and sweaty sandals. In a hot kitchen, Lawrence first learned to “practice the presence of God” while preparing food, cleaning pots, and cooking over fires.

My sink plunging continues. Am I plunging the way my preaching professors taught me in seminary?

Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.

Brother Lawrence once said:

“Men invent means and methods of coming at God’s love, they learn rules and set up devices to remind them of that love, and it seems like a world of trouble to bring oneself into the consciousness of God’s presence. Yet it might be so simple. Is it not quicker and easier just to do our common business wholly for the love of him?”

Renovating and repairing our church’s old facility is “common business” for me. Can I plunge this sink wholly for the love of God?

The lowly kitchen monk also said:

“Nor is it needful that we should have great things to do. . . We can do little things for God; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of him.”

The sink is still clogged and now the water looks disgusting. I stick my finger down the overflow drain near the sink’s top.

Now my finger stops the plunger from pushing dirty water up through that hole and making a bigger mess.

Lawrence said:

We ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.

A church leadership expert would probably say I should delegate work like this. Maybe I should. But the carpet is wet now. It’s too late to delegate this. Didn’t one professor say I should spend 20 hours a week preparing my sermon? Whoops. No time this week.

My hands are filthy. Water splashed on the fake marble sink and wallpaper. We really should renovate this bathroom. 

The humble monk encouraged us:

“Along with this total abandonment must go a complete acceptance of God’s will with equanimity and resignation. No matter what troubles and ills come our way, they are to be willingly and indeed joyously endured since they come from God, and God knows what He is doing.”

I’m not there yet, Brother Lawrence, but I’m getting closer. I’m learning Jesus uses these broken items in our church building for his glory. In my last post, I mentioned how Jesus gives me a new story to share each time an a/c unit breaks. This man sold us refrigerant at cost, this company gave us an amazing deal on labor. The pastor of the newest church to use our building just told me his buddy owns an a/c repair company, etc, etc.

As I stood on soggy carpet plunging the sink, a Facebook message was waiting for me in my inbox. It was from a licensed plumber. I’ve never met him. He doesn’t live in my neighborhood. We have no Facebook friends in common. Yet, he somehow heard about our church’s past plumbing problems. He messaged to say he was available this week to work for us. As I write this sentence, he’ll be here in two hours.

I’m finally learning to obey Jesus’ command about not worrying. I’m doing exactly what Jesus called me to do. I’m serving his Church. This church building is simply one more tool God uses for his Church. And Jesus will build his church. We strive to faithfully use this old, dilapidated building in ways that glorify Jesus. So, of course, Jesus would put a plumber’s random offer of help in my Facebook inbox!

Just like Brother Lawrence said, “No matter what troubles and ills come our way, they are to be willingly and indeed joyously endured since they come from God, and God knows what He is doing.” My God knew what he was doing when he allowed that trifecta of plumbing woes to come my way. He knew what he was doing when he put it on a plumber’s heart to seek me out and offer his services.

As long as I continually follow where Jesus leads, he will provide my every need. I’ll keep doing my best to love people like Jesus loves. I’ll keep seeking out the homeless behind buildings. I’ll strive to be a husband and father who honors Jesus in all I do.

I’ll continue to be a pastor with a plunger, practicing the presence of God in all I do. I haven’t reached my goal yet, but I’ll keep practicing. I’ll keep inviting God’s presence into my daily, sleep-deprived and hurried pastor’s life. And I know he will never reject my invitation to join me.

I’m a fair-weather philanthropist

umbrella

Jesus always makes provision to obey his purposes. I’m constantly preaching some variation of that message in our church. I regularly remind the people I serve “money comes from God, not people.” I talk about following Jesus wherever he leads, even if you think that will make you poorer. I say, “since everything you have is God’s, you can’t hoard his money.” I talk about doing what Jesus commands, even if you don’t have the money at the time to do it. I remind people of how Jesus multiplied one little lunch to feed over 5,000 people.

Last week, I had to practice what I preach.

It seems I’m becoming known in our Southwest Fort Worth community as the crazy pastor who practically gives away facilities space to other churches. Including the church I pastor, four churches and a funeral home currently use our building. It’s a beautiful thing.
But welcoming others into our building comes with a high wear-and-tear cost: the parking lot, door hinges, carpet, light bulbs, toilet handles, faucet valves…pretty much everything. It also costs us, and every other group in our building, scheduling flexibility. We can’t just plan a special event when we want. We first check that others aren’t using our space at that time. But the biggest cost in Texas is probably the wear and tear on our old, inefficient a/c units.

A/C specialists have recommended we replace almost every a/c on our property. So, adding several hours of usage each month is no small thing. These a/c units and their expensive bills used to cause me stress. Now I (usually) see them as one more way God is glorified in our church. Every time a unit breaks, I share another story of how someone gave us a great deal, we bought refrigerant at cost, another church paid the bill, etc.

In two weeks, a fifth church will call our building “home.”  Once again, I had to discuss the cost of using our facilities. It will cost us more wear-and-tear, and requires turning 3 more rooms for children’s classes, including my office. Our church has 22,000sq feet, but it’s pastor has no office. Jesus leads in strange ways.

As a leader, I have two choices when discussing rent amounts. Either I recommend we charge as much rent as possible to replenish our bank account or I practice what I preach.

I texted a church board member my thoughts on what we should charge:

“I would like us to be as generous with [the new church] as others have been with us. It leaves much more room for God to work. [One of our current renting churches] raising the rent on themselves twice and paying for things they’re not required to is a more powerful testimony of God’s provision for us than if we simply required more rent. One way leaves room for God to place it on other believers’ hearts to be generous and trust Him with money. The other way puts us more in control of money and creates more “room” for potential resentment.”

Super-spiritual generosity, right? I’d clearly seen God work, and I expected him to work again. The church I mention in the text decided they should start paying more in rent. They then raised the rent on themselves a second time a few months later! Who does that?? A few months ago, I learned they paid over $300 to service a few of our a/c units! I only learned about it because they thought I should have proper records for all maintenance work on property. God blessed our generosity by bringing a generous church to rent space from us.

But last Monday, the same day I was discussing rental payments with the incoming church, I learned another a/c compressor went out in our main sanctuary. That’s the second sanctuary air conditioner to fail in three weeks. It turns out, I don’t feel so generous after something expensive breaks.

I’m a fair-weather philanthropist.

I know God has the power to raise Jesus from the dead, but does he have the power to supply all our needs if I’m generous with this new church? The first Christians in the Bible sacrificial gave to others, but we can’t do that. We need to look out for ourselves. I haven’t had a pay raise in over three years!

Even pastors get confronted with their own hypocrisy. Do I believe what I preach? The Apostle Paul, one of the earliest Christian writers, told a group of Christians, “God shall supply all your needs.” Do I believe that?

In the Bible, Acts 20:35 says “it’s more blessed to give than to receive.” But my sweat glands tell me it’s more blessed to feel cold air against my skin than help another church. Medicaid just picked up the entire delivery bill for our new baby. Shouldn’t I try to get a pay raise before I think about helping another church find cheap meeting space? Isn’t that just good business? Isn’t that being a good father?

But Jesus already reminded me he is a Good Shepherd. Practicing Christ-like hospitality hasn’t yet hurt our church, or my family. Why should it hurt us now? So, I left that meeting, and talking with our church treasurer, with a firm decision of Faith. We will trust Jesus.

We can trust him with broken a/c compressors. We can trust him with our church’s finances. I can trust him with my family’s finances. Jesus will never fail us when we follow his example of radical generosity. Just yesterday, I told our congregation my firm belief God has a purpose for keeping our church in our building instead of selling it: to be a blessing to other churches that need space. And Jesus reminded me that he always

And so, this fifth church will also pay very little to use our space.

Even more well-meaning friends will recommend raising rent. But I will trust Jesus. 

Air conditioners will break. But I will trust Jesus.

Family expenses will continue racking up. But I will trust Jesus.

After that meeting, I went home to my wife, 3-year-old, and 3-day-old. I checked the mail. A couple who used to attend our church sent us a card. They moved away 6 months ago and we haven’t spoken since. Enclosed in their card was a check to my family for $1,000. If those friends are reading this, thank you.

I am learning to be a husband, father, and pastor who seeks the Lord, before seeking financial security, peace of mind, or anything else. Jesus said “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

I don’t need to raise rent on other churches serving their communities to pay our church’s bills, or for my family’s bills. I don’t need to guilt church members into giving (but disguised as a sermon series on stewardship). I don’t need to scare people Sunday mornings into thinking we’ll close tomorrow if they don’t put enough in the offering plate. God is providing for all of my family’s needs (and most of our ‘wants’) in this simple life we’re living. And just like Jesus’ gentle whisper last week from the laundry room, he spoke to me again…

“I will always make provision to obey my purposes.”

Jesus’ purpose is that I lead our church in the way of Christ-like hospitality towards other churches and ministries in need. And he will always provide ways to obey that purpose, including sending $1,000 checks from across the country.

The question is not, “Will God provide?” but “Are we obeying his purposes?”

 

 

Food he daily gives the hungry,
sets the mourning prisoner free,
raises those bowed down with anguish,
makes the sightless eyes to see.
God our Savior loves the righteous,
and the stranger he befriends,
helps the orphan and the widow,
judgment on the wicked sends.

–“Praise the LORD! Sing Hallelujah!” 1887

Jesus Is Calling Me to the Laundry Room

washing-machine

I turned down an invitation to apply for pastoral openings at some good churches this week.
Our denomination has a title called District Superintendent. One of the many jobs they do is help churches on their district find a new pastor when the previous pastor leaves.
A DS from another state sent me an email. He asked me to send him my résumé. He heard one of my former ministry professors speak very highly of me. Of course, he’s never heard one of my long-winded sermons!
He requested I consider applying for some of the open pastoral positions in this other state.

A terrific recommendation and a request that I apply for some job openings. Isn’t that the clear voice of God saying it’s time to go pastor a different church?

In the Gospel of John, Jesus describes himself as the “Good Shepherd.” He says “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.”
I heard my Good Shepherd’s voice this week. But he was not calling me to another church. He was calling me to my laundry room.
Our church is 20 minutes away from the homeless shelters near downtown Fort Worth. You’ll always find homeless up there around Lancaster Street. But, if you pay attention, you’ll find many homeless in our neighborhood. They get cups of free water from the gas station, pick up leftover food as the restaurants close each night, and hide behind dumpsters. I see the “regulars” as my son and I walk to the dollar store. The regulars in our area know our church now.
When a new homeless person asks the Goodwill store across the street for help, the employees send them to the Parsonage (the house in church property where we live– where the “Parson” lives).

The “regulars” have used our church overhangs for shelter during the rain. They rarely join us Sunday mornings because crowds now make them jittery after years of living alone.

But they stop and talk to me as I work out in the yard. I sometimes pay them a little cash for odd jobs around our dilapidated church buildings. They mow the lawn, mop the floors, dig ditches, and throw away years of accumulated church clutter.

As they work, I make them a sandwich and wash their dirty clothes. It always takes two, sometimes three, wash cycles to remove the smell. If they have both light and dark clothing, I wash them separately to insure their darks aren’t covered with white fuzz balls after drying. As the second load waits by the washing machine, their smell overpowers our small laundry room. We open the window.

There’s a story about one of God’s ancient prophets. God said he would soon show himself to Elijah. As the prophet waits for God to appear, a cataclysmic wind “tears the mountains apart,” an earthquake strikes, and a sudden fire appears. But the Bible says the “LORD was not in them.” The Bible says God finally shows up to speak with Elijah in “a gentle whisper.”

Every apparent act of God…isn’t.

A homeless man’s clothes were in our laundry room when I received that email. But my Good Shepherd’s voice was not in that email. He wasn’t telling me to leave my current church.
Instead, I heard Jesus’ voice calling out from the laundry room. I heard him repeating the words he said 2,000 years ago…”whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). Once again, Jesus said he did not come to be served, but to serve” (Mark 10:45).
And so, I washed the dirty clothes of a homeless man. Jesus washed feet. I wash clothes. I washed, dried, and folded them with care.
As I folded this man’s underwear, I suddenly pictured Jesus’ last supper with his disciples.
I pull the underwear from the dryer last. Will this man be embarrassed when he receives his clean underwear? I fold it and place it underneath other clothes. Where the disciples embarrassed when Jesus held their dirty feet in his hands? The Bible says “love covers a multitude of sins.” Did the human embodiment of Perfect Love try to cover each disciple’s wet, dirty feet from the view of other watching disciples? Would Jesus have hidden the underwear in the middle of the folded pile, as I just did?
Other pastors will receive an email similar to the one I read last week. ‘Their name came up…would they like to interview?, etc.’ A few pastors will hear their Good Shepherd’s voice in those emails. They will hear a call, like ancient Abraham, to leave a familiar home and follow God where He leads them. But, to borrow a phrase from Elijah’s story, the LORD was not in my inbox.
The email was flattering. But it was not the voice of God. I believe I already heard God’s voice 10 months ago say I would serve the people at my church for a very long time.

Most of us want God to show up in the windstorm or the fire from heaven. Am I the only one who reads into every big life event as some sort of special sign from God?
How easily I could have claimed God sent me a message, right there in my inbox. Finally! I’ll go pastor somewhere my family doesn’t have to use food stamps and Medicaid for survival. Thank you Jesus!

If you go looking for it, you’ll always find that “greener grass” on the other side of some fence. I spent last Tuesday morning praying about my family’s finances. I told God he had to do something to cover the extra expenses we’re incurring as we expect our second child in only a few days.
Maybe I could pastor somewhere else, where I don’t have beg God for money.
Kelly checked the mail Tuesday afternoon. She found a letter from the state of Kansas. They tracked us down even though we changed addresses twice. We have $320 in unclaimed property from the state.
And I heard my Good Shepherd remind me of Psalm 23….”He makes me lie down in green pastures.”

I need not search for greener grass on the other side of a fence. That’s God’s job. Jesus is my Good Shepherd. He will always lead me to green pastures. I need only follow his voice.
Jesus led me to pastor a church that now looks as diverse as our community. Jesus led me to a church building that now houses 3 other churches (soon to be 4), a funeral home that serves poor families, and an incomplete gym that serves thousands of meals to needy children each summer.
Jesus hasn’t mistakenly led me to the wrong pasture. I am exactly where he wants me, doing exactly what he intended. He knows our financial situation and will always provide what we need. He knows our building is leaking from that rainstorm He sent this morning. He knows the difficulties of continually serving poor people who can’t afford to repay us. My Shepherd is Good. He knows what he’s doing. I trust in the One who gave his life for me. And I will live in this green pasture until he leads me out of it.

As I type these very words, another homeless man’s clothes just finished the spin cycle in our donated washer. Jesus is calling me from the laundry room, “Go start another load.”

“I heard the voice of Jesus say,
“Come unto me and rest;
lay down, O weary one, lay down
your head upon my breast.”
I came to Jesus as I was,
so weary, worn, and sad;
I found him in a resting place,
and he has made me glad.”
— “I Heard The Voice of Jesus Say” 1846 Horatius Bonar