Tag: multiple churches in one building

A Cross In Our Front Yard…With Your Name On It

My son wants to build a cross in our front yard…with your name on it.

I’m the chief story reader in our home. Our 4-year old son has developed an elaborate bedtime story routine. Each night, I’m required to read from a children’s devotional book and three different children’s storybook Bibles. After reading, I must also sing three songs before kissing him goodnight: Jesus Loves Me, Silent Night, and Jingle Bell Rock. I have no clue how those last two became nightly requirements.

One Bible (The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones) must always be read last. And he always requests the “Jesus dying on the cross” story. The illustrations are beautiful. One page depicts Jesus hanging on the cross with a sign above him (the sign described in the Gospel of John 19:19-21). As we read the story again the other night, our 4-year-old interrupted me:

“Daddy, I want to build a cross in our front yard.”

“A cross?”

“Yeah, I want to build a cross and put a sign on it.”

“A sign? What would you put on the sign”

“People would come by and put their names on it and then I’ll erase their names.”

“Why would you erase their names?”

“For more people to come by and put their names on the sign.”

“And then what would you do?”

“And then I’ll erase their names so other people can put their names on it.”

As I gazed into that little boy’s eyes, I had an Emperor’s New Clothes moment. My son has no clue how powerful is words are, but I do.

While only 4-years old, he already understands the Cross has a message for us today; it’s not merely a historical artifact. 

Our children’s Bible pictures Jesus on a cross, with a sign hanging above him but… 

Without being taught, he concludes the sign on the cross should really have your name on it…and my name. 

He’s reasoned, ‘if that Cross has a connection with any one person, the connection is to us, not Jesus.’

How true, son. How true. One day our little boy will grow out of Bibles filled with pictures and large text. And he will eventually read the conversation between two men who died on crosses next to Jesus:

“And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong” (Luke 23:41).

I think of words from the Bible, Isaiah 53:4-6:

Surely he has borne our infirmities
    and carried our diseases;
yet we accounted him stricken,
    struck down by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
    crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
    and by his bruises we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
    we have all turned to our own way,
and the Lord has laid on him
    the iniquity of us all.

Our son’s sign idea reminds me about the “Deep Magic” in C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. One day, we’ll read this book together and come to that famous dialogue between the Witch and Aslan:

“You know that every traitor belongs to me as my lawful prey and that for every treachery I have a right to kill…. And so that human creature is mine. His life is forfeit to me. His blood is my property… unless I have blood as the Law says all Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water.”

Last, our son understands the Cross is for public viewing…as public as a front yard next to a busy road.

Sadly, we use our front yard as much as most suburban families, which is… not at all. We spend all outdoor play time the back yard. The back yard is peaceful. The back yard is safe. The back yard is fenced-in so neither children, nor dog, can escape. And the backyard is private. 

Our front yard, however, is none of those things. Several neighbors do not have cars. A bus stop and a Dollar General are both a few hundred feet from our front door. Put all those things together and what do you have? You have people cutting through our front yard at all hours of the day. Multiple homeless pass by each week. Two busy roads intersect at our house, bringing several hundred cars by our front yard each day. And a Goodwill donation drop-off site across from our garage cause 100+ people to stop, unload their unwanted belongings, and get back in their cars. Our front yard is not private. 

This little redhead’s father has spent years keeping his faith private…discreet. I’m most outspoken when preaching before other Christians, or typing before a computer screen. But our sweet boy only knows one way to express his faith–publicly, before all the world. Is this why Jesus praises the faith of children?

During the average week, our 4-year old might spend 2 minutes in our front yard. Yet he doesn’t want this cross in the back yard where we spend our time. He wants it in the front yard, where everyone else can see it, see their name on it, and then see their name erased.

“I, I am the One who erases all your sins, for my sake;
    I will not remember your sins (Isaiah 43:25 NCV).

Yes, it probably makes more sense to see our names on that cross, than to see Jesus’ name up there- the only person who “knew no sin.” But the historical reality is that Jesus’ name was on that cross. It’s as if our names are erased from that cross because his name is there instead. Or, to use the Apostle Paul’s words, “one died for all, and therefore all died.” And that, my friends, is Good News.

I’ll never pressure our boys to choose the same profession as their Dad. But I’m already wondering if our 4-year old might follow in my footsteps. If I may borrow a message from this 4-year old preacher,

I pray you see your name on that cross, hanging above where traitors died. But I also pray you see your name erased, by the One who gladly “erases all your sins.” And I pray you also want to ‘go public’ with Christ’s Cross. 

O Lamb of God, for sinners slain,
I plead with thee, my suit to gain, —
I plead what thou hast done:
Didst thou not die the death for me?
Jesus, remember Calvary,
And break my heart of stone.

Take the dear purchase of thy blood,
My Friend and Advocate with God,
My Ransom and my Peace,
Surety, who all my debt hast paid,
For all my sins atonement made,
The Lord my Righteousness.

O let thy Spirit shed abroad
The love, the perfect love of God,
In this cold heart of mine!
O might he now descend, and rest,
And dwell forever in my breast,
And make it all divine!

O Lamb of God, For Sinners Slain— Charles Wesley, 1749

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

Whites Were Minorities At My Church Sunday

I’m a white pastor. As I spent years in undergrad and graduate school preparing to be a pastor, I generally had the mindset of a typical white middle-class male. I grew up in a wonderful white middle-class church and always assumed I would serve in a church similar to my upbringing.
I usually ignored discussions and learning opportunities in school about multicultural ministry. I (thought I) recognized how important those issues were. But I didn’t think they applied to my future context. I assumed I’d serve at a church where most everybody looked like me. I’d be a pastor who welcomed everyone, but I wouldn’t actively seek to pastor a multicultural church.

Then…Jesus called me to pastor a historically white church in, what is now, a very diverse community.

For 3 years, I’ve been praying our Sunday morning services would “look” as diverse as our community. I’ve never had an agenda to become a multicultural/multiethnic church. My agenda was that we look like our community, which happens to be multicultural/multiethnic.

I’ve made decisions as a pastor that would actively push us towards greater diversity, including: 1) deciding against selling our our building to find a new location and 2) moving my family into the neighborhood.

When I noticed our white members weren’t interacting as much as I hoped with our non-white guests, I brought in round tables and forced people to sit across from each other during service. One Sunday each month, we do nothing but eat breakfast together. I creatively called this breakfast time on Sunday “Breakfast Sunday.” We’re a diverse bunch, but not the most creative. Creative types, come join us!

When I noticed our veteran members couldn’t remember the names of our newer members, I started inviting people to speak up with prayer requests, praises, answers to questions during sermons, etc. Each time I call on a person to share, I say their name. When they finish speaking, I thank them and say their name again.

I regularly talk about race. I keep reminding our people I don’t have plans on leaving.

I’m fighting hard to create a sense of community in our increasingly diverse church. Some people don’t care for the tables. Some feel uncomfortable when I say I plan on being here 20 years. Some don’t care for the breakfasts, and a pastor who can’t say anyone’s name just once. But these things seem to be working.

*Note: I believe God gave me all these ideas, which could be why they are working for us. They might be awful ideas for your church if Jesus doesn’t lead you to do them. *

The journey to change has been long and, at times, painful. For some people, the changes were more than they could bear. It often felt like more than my wife and I could bear. I praise God for good Christian counseling. Several people recommended I quit. I turned down two other ministry positions and refused to put out my resume to other churches.

I wasn’t trying to be a martyr. I just believed I was exactly where God wanted me. I thought it would be a sin for me to leave. I still believe that. In fact, I think God wants me to stay here for at least another 20 years. We’ll see if I heard him correctly regarding the timeline.

Last Sunday, we hit a milestone that’s been 3 years in the making…whites were a minority at church last Sunday. Ok, it was only by 1. But still, they were a minority. More non-white people attended our worship service than white people.

The children attending our church’s summer day camp and the volunteer teens running it with me are almost 100% non-white — predominantly African-American.

Our congregation now shares our building with two Black churches and one Korean church. A funeral home, owned by a Latino man, now resides within one corner of our church building. Mr. Garcia provides funeral services to everyone, regardless of their ability to pay. This has become a valuable resource to poor families in our community.

My wife, our son, and I live in the house on our church property (called a “Parsonage”). Almost every single neighbor on our street is African-American. A family from Kenya just moved into the tri-plex across the street.

Well-meaning people told me to buy a gun before moving in. I did not. Instead, I almost cleaned out our savings to renovate and furnish the Parsonage. I was happy to show our church and our community we weren’t going anywhere. We’re committed to this church and to this neighborhood. And we’re not afraid to live here. Besides, why would I be afraid to live on the same street with fellow church members and people I call friends?

Many of our neighbors live in Section 8 duplexes and/or receive housing vouchers.  Although God has provided above and beyond what we need, we, too, have learned the unique challenges of being on government assistance in our country.

As I walked the dog this morning at the park by our church, I passed other walkers who were either Black or from India. I’ve even been working with two others on a plan to use our church building as the location for an Indian church. The first Spanish-speaking church we planted now meets 25 minutes away. We’ve been praying for the last 3 months how we can, once again, serve our Spanish-speaking neighbors.

For me, following Jesus led us to a place I never would have imagined, trying my best to serve people who have experienced things I will never understand. Jesus usually leads us to places we wouldn’t pick for ourselves.

I don’t know how to solve the racial, poverty, and immigration issues in our country. But I do know that following Jesus down this path, where I live among and serve people who don’t look like me, has changed me for the better.

“Trust and obey,

For there’s no other way

To be happy in Jesus,

But to trust and obey.”