Wood , hay and stubble…

There is a great passage in the New Testament where Jesus explains to the Pharsees (the super-religious people of his day) that at the end of times, the works of their hands will be tried by fire and end up like wood, hay and stubble, burnt to ashes in the field. You ever have those days, the days of wood, hay and stubble? Where it seems that everything you have worked hard to accomplish really isn’t so much after all?

Another time the same religious folks come up to John the Baptist and ask him, “Are you the Messian?” he says, “I am not.” That is a great self-understanding isn’t it. “I am not.” If all the pain and trail I’m going through right now is teaching me anything it is that “I am not.” I am probably more aware now than I ever have been in my life of what I am not. I am not a great preacher. I mean I can hold a thought together and make people think, but so can a lot o others. I am no a great administrator, I struggle with this every day. I am not a good bureaucrat; I have a hard time negotiating the political system in which I am called to serve. I am not a great dad, my kids love me but I know where I have messed up there to. I am not, at the end of the day, much better than average at anything. But what am I?

Now there is a tough question. Today, where I sit and where I am, I don’t know. Oh, I know the spiritual answers; I understand the doctrine of imageo dei, that I’m created in the image of God. But my image, like your image, is just an image. Flawed, like looking in a funhouse mirror. I am painfully aware of my shortcomings. That is the funny thing about images; they are merely reflections of what is real.

Here lies the beauty of grace. God’s unmerited love, we don’t have to know. My doubt, like my faith, is a part of me. God is big enough to allow me to struggle. So on days, like today, when I have mostly doubt, with only a flicker of faith in anything left, is when I am glad that I am:

Lost in Grace,

Marty

Waiting on the Bus

Waiting on the Bus…

I am not a good waiter. I don’t like to wait. I will scan the grocery lanes to find the shortest one often opting for the self-serve lane to just do it myself. Of course I inevitably get behind somebody who has never done it before and has about five hundred items.

I find myself at a strange place in my life. I have this strange feeling of waiting. I can’t really define what I’m waiting for but Jordan (my son) and I had a conversation last night about having the feeling that we are waiting for something. Some change, some development, some new and improved direction.

Right now, however, I’m waiting. I’m living in a house that isn’t really “mine.” It doesn’t feel like “home,” though I’m not really sure what “home” feels like. I’m still spending a lot of time learning the complexities of the organization I have been called to serve and the part of it that I have been chosen to lead. I’m waiting.

This reminds me of a lot of times when I was a child that my mother used to say, “Don’t wish your life away.” I was always looking longingly into the horizon and dreaming of another day. I would dream of another day, one better than today, one that was brighter and more settled.

There is a lot in the scripture about waiting. Jacob/Israel comes to mind as God allowed his unscrupulous Laben, to cause him to wait seven years for a wife then deceive him and have him wait another seven. Jacob learned to wait and it changed him. He spent that time wisely, preparing and learning.

So, I guess that is what I’ll spend my time doing. Preparing and learning. Tomorrow I begin a doctoral program to continue learning. I want to use this time, the time where I feel like I am waiting on the bus, to learn and allow God to speak to me. So that when the next phase comes I will be prepared to live like I am:

Lost in Grace,

Marty

Being Sick...

Being Sick…

I’m not very good at being sick. In all actuality I stink at it.  Today I came home for the first time in over a year sick. My knees were wobbly, I had a serious headache and just felt horrible. The worst part of being sick is the inability to really do anything about it. So I came home and crawled in the bed and slept for about two hours. When I woke up I didn’t really feel any better and was still very weak. That is a feeling I despise.

I am a product of the American culture, though I wish it were not so. I came up with the “pull yourself up by your bootstrap” mentality. That is why I have such a hard time asking for help. It is hard for me to admit that I don’t have it all under control.

That is what God is teaching me through my best friend. To ask for help. To cry out. The Scriptures are filled with people crying out to God in their moment of desperation. This is so counter-cultural. To have to admit dependency.

We are all dependent in some fashion. We just don’t like to acknowledge it. I am learning to acknowledge that I am weak, but I serve a God who is strong. A God who is able to help me overcome all of my weaknesses. A God who loves me and allows me to remain:

Lost in Grace,

Marty

Listening to Leaves...

Community…

So, the mountains are beautiful. Sitting alone in the early evening you can hear the leaves just starting to rustle and you’ll see one here and there changing from deep green to orange and yellow. You can tell by the cool nights that autumn is coming. The busyness here at the LJ had calmed down to almost a stop and we are preparing for winter events and making plans for next summer. It occurs to me as my best friend has gone back to central North Carolina and my staff has all returned to college how alone I am. My son, Jordan, and I have been looking for several months to find a community to worship and serve in, but have not been successful. In the words of my previous blog, “no cheeseburgers.” So we are continuing to look.

I’m learning a lot from my time alone though. I’m learning to listen to God in the rustle of those leaves. I am learning to worship as a discipline, not because I feel welcomed or embraced by the community. After more than a dozen years leading a congregation I am learning what it is like to sit in a congregation. This experience will make me a better pastor and leader if and when I ever return to leading a local church.

I am also learning that community is not necessarily about location as it is about relationship. Many of my friends, most of my best friends actually, live hours away. We are unable to communicate as often as we used to and certainly can’t see each other, but the knowledge that others are with you on the journey and holding you in their prayers and in their hearts is comforting even amidst the loneliness.

This week I struggled with being alone. Friday night I spoke with Lydia briefly on the phone and being four hours away from her broke my heart. As I was leaving work, late as usual, somebody asked me how I was doing and tears welled up in my eyes. I had been separated for a year on that day and somehow it was particularly acute all weekend. Being alone is hard.

When you serve a church there is always somebody to call upon, to visit, to call. You never really have to be alone, which is great for an extrovert like me. In this work that is not the case. There is not the instant source of community. A friend of mine called me excited about her newest place of ministry. To be honest I was jealous of how excited she was. She spoke of how wonderful the congregation was and how they embraced her. How great it was to work with a peer in ministry and of the great things they would be able to do together. That conversation, however brief, made me miss the local church work. I can’t believe that, the work that gave me most of the grey hair upon my head. The work that tore me up some days and caused me to cry out to God, and here I was missing it. I hung up the phone and felt a genuine sense of longing for a community. One like she described.

My call for now is to equip and to teach. This is my place. The lessons I’m learning will serve me well, as do most lessons that are hard learned. So, this evening, I’ll watch the wind whisper God’s presence through the changing leaves and see what God has to say to me…alone. I remain:

Lost in Grace,

Marty

Cheeseburgers are paradise...

Cheeseburgers are paradise…

In search of churches and cheeseburgers (

I like cheeseburgers. My best friend would tell you that I love cheeseburgers.  It is hard to contest that since in three days I’ve had at least two. I am particularly fond of bacon cheeseburgers. You know the ones, a quarter to a third of a pound or rare hamburger covered with a generous serving of thick sliced, peppery bacon and on top of that a huge chunk of melting, cheddar cheese (if you are not vegetarian, you may be getting hungry right now, if you are, sorry!)  

Now I don’t like fast food cheeseburgers, delivered, cooked and made in bulk. I like the ones you find at out of the way places. The kind of places you would walk buy were you not in search of the perfect bacon cheeseburger. My current favorite local place is O’Malley’s Pub in downtown Waynesville. I usually sit in the third booth across from the bar so I can listen to the loud banter of bar patrons and watch whatever soccer or football game in on the television above the counter.

A cheeseburger is an experience, not just a meal. The whole package contributes to the enjoyment. The noise and laughter at the bar, the clean white plate, the ice cold drink and, of course, the cheeseburger all combine to add to the pleasure. Now it might be just as good wrapped in aluminum foil and eaten in the car, but I doubt it.

My love for the perfect cheeseburger served the perfect way, in the perfect place mirrors my search for Christian community. For eight months my son, Jordan, and I (also a cheeseburger professional, as a matter of fact his are some of the best…ask for the recipe!) have been searching for a place to worship and serve. We’ve been to the equivalent of the drive through cheeseburger place, pre-packaged and formula driven. We’ve been to the gourmet place, that really doesn’t “do cheeseburgers.” We have even been to some churches that claim they got, “just what you need” but they don’t really. Something is missing.

Sometimes it’s the meat. I mean the place is good, it looks nice, the presentation is there, but when it comes down to sinking your teeth into something solid, the worship service’s theology leaves something to be desired. Sometimes it’s the bacon, overdone or underdone. Somehow the music just does not come across as heartfelt. Jordan put it this way, “they sing like they kind of like Jesus.” If I order a bacon cheeseburger, I want a BACON cheeseburger. Give me slabs of thick sliced, pepper seasoned bacon like mom used to fry up on Saturday morning. I don’t want bacon bits! Sometimes the cheese is missing or such a thin veneer that it is like it is not even there. The display of warmth by the people who are happy to be there is missing. There is one church we have attended more than half a dozen times and on several occasions no one, not even an usher, has spoken to us. Thus far the pastor has not even acknowledged our existence despite the fact that I’m a denominational official in his denomination. Phone calls have gone unreturned and we have been pretty effectively ignored. Lastly, sometimes the presentation does not work. You walk in and you can feel the tension. Almost hear the gasp if something is missed in the bulletin or a word is misspoken. There are no rolls of laughter and displays of joy. We were leaving one place last week and we watched the folks coming from where we had just been and the ones in a neighboring congregation of a different theological bent. The facial expression contrast was rather remarkable. Our people looked solemn while the others looked, well, joyous, kind of like the people leaving O’Malley’s on a Friday night after a burger and a pint.

So I have found a great cheeseburger, the church, on the other hand, not yet. Though, like my search for the cheeseburger I won’t quit. One last thing, I’m really not looking for perfection (at least not in the church). I have just been looking for community…you know “where everybody knows your name” or is at least willing to learn it and talk to you. I have served churches that were missing the bacon or the cheese. I understand the constant struggles inside an institution that is to human to succeed and too divine to fail. What Clara (old Wendy’s commercial lady) and I really want to know is, “where’s the beef?” Thankfully in my search I remain:

Lost in Grace,

Marty

“Where’s the Beef” commercial:
http://www.ifilm.com/ifilmdetail/2423864?htv=12

This is my AWESOME daughter Lydia! Yep, she is always that cool. She keeps me in touch with music, culture and helps me "get it." I love you Lyd!

The question is not...

“The question is not who is right, but who is living rightly?” Rob Bell

     I am a thoughtful evangelical. I affirm the traditional creeds of the Christian faith. I believe in the theological tenets of the faith but I have given up on judging others. Don’t get me wrong, I have spent a lot of my Christian life judging others by the standard of the church that I was attending at the time. Growing up I spent time in denominations that measured hems of girl’s dresses and lengths of boy’s hair. There were certain behavioral mandates that were absolutely mandatory (like no going to movies) and others that were not so strict (like smoking). By these sets of standards you knew who was “in” and who was “out.” If you weren’t careful, at any moment you could slip from being “in” to being “out.”
     I have had a recent experience with a large number of people who profess the name of Christ who have spent a lot of energy telling me who was “in” and who was “out.” Don’t get me wrong, some of them had some valid concerns. They were worried with theological issues that certainly deserve attention, but instead of asking questions and entering dialogue, they chose to hold up their divining rod and measure people’s convictions based upon their own understanding of Scripture.
     We do not interpret Scripture in a vacuum. I am very wary of people who say, “I just do what the Bible says.” They forget that their reading of the Bible is formed by ancient traditions and lenses that have been molded since the times of the Old Testament. No one comes to the Scripture without certain pre-conceived notions. Until the creation of the printing press, the Bible was ONLY read in the context of community, it was not a document for private devotion. The beauty of studying the Scriptures in the context of community is that others see the same text with different lenses, that forces you to challenge your assumptions and readings. Suddenly there is room for the Holy Spirit to work in and through the community to inform the text and transform our lives.
     I can not measure up to the mark. Jesus warns us not to judge unless we are willing to stand up to similar scrutiny. That is why I choose to be:

Lost in Grace,

Marty

PS. Great quote sent to me by a friend:
"Bigotry originates in the elevation of any group--political, ethnic, religious--above God's universal grace which creates humanity in the divine image.” Bishop Kenneth L. Carder

Hold on loosely...

Hold on loosely, but don’t let go…

That is a great song, isn’t it? If you are younger than thirty, you probably don’t remember it. I love that song but seem to be unable to practice the concept.

When I was a child my father left. When I say left, I don’t mean the every other weekend visitation, call a couple of times a week and buy big birthday presents type of left, I mean left. I would go months, sometimes years without hearing from him. He would send birthday cards during random months because he really didn’t know when my birthday was. Essentially, he abandoned his role as father, mentor and friend. He opted just to occasionally show up, stick his head in my life and then disappear again. I didn’t realize it until recently what an impact that had on me.

One incident stands out. I was about ten years old and it was October. Maybe that’s why I remembered it today, because up here in the mountains, the nip of fall is in the air. I am sitting on the front stoop of my house in Raleigh, waiting on my dad to make a promised visit to take me to the State Fair. He was supposed to be there by 8 a.m. to get an early start on the day, so I was waiting, on the porch, in my jacket, by 7 a.m. One hour passed, then another, then another. At 11 a.m. or so my father finally called my house, told my mother that something had come up and he wasn’t going to be able to make it. I don’t remember much about the rest of the day except I didn’t go to the fair and I spent most of the rest of the day alone. After that I didn’t hear from him until after Christmas.

I wait for people to leave. That is rather odd actually. For most people, they see people’s departures as a surprise. I anticipate it, to a fault. Actually, sometimes I’ve noticed that I actually help them to the door so I can control their departure. I keep people a safe distance away because if I let them get to close, their departure hurts all the more. It is easier to handle when people you keep at a distance leave because, well, you didn’t like them much anyway.

Jesus really messes this up for me. He reminds us that He will “never leave.” That is hard for me to grasp. I just have a hard time getting that God loves us so much that he wants to hang out with us, despite the baggage we carry and the burdens we bear. Despite past failing, pain and struggle, God won’t abandon us.

On of my favorite professors, Dr. Wm. Turner who teaches preaching at Duke Divinity School, once told me to look at the sermons I preach. Take a hard look, he advised, and there you will see the theological issues that you struggle with. The things that mold our lives, mold our proclamation. One of the themes that keeps reoccurring in my messages is that God will “never, no, not ever” abandon us. Kind of goes to Boehler’s advice to John Wesley, “preach faith till you have it. When you have it, preach it all the more.”

This morning I realized I was doing it again. Keeping folks at a safe distance. Not getting involved in the lives of others or letting them get involved with my life. I have lived here at the LJ for nine months and have no real friends here. I have acquaintances, folks I have a nodding relationship with, but nobody to call if I just wanted to talk. Guess I’ll have to walk out on that limb, start letting people in and not helping them to the door. This is going to be my challenge for the next few weeks asGod has begun working on me. I will let you know how it goes.

Thankfully I remain:

Lost in Grace,
Marty

This sign now hangs outside of my office at the LJ thanks to the Sunset organization who bought it and changed the name! Thanks Hal!

God of Grace or Judgment

God of Grace or Judgment?

     I received the most disturbing email this week that I may have ever gotten based upon a theological construct. A person sent me an article from a website, www.repentamerica.org that essentially implied that hurricane Katrina was God’s act of judgment upon New Orleans and the Gulf coast for allowing a large conference promoting immorality. I could not believe my eyes when I began to understand the basic premise of the article to be that God pulled a Sodom and Gomorrah, or a deluge like Noah’s on N.O. and that all the innocent people died because, well, every war has casualties. My stomach got sick at the thought.
     Now, I grew up informed by some pretty judgmental theology. Having been raised in radical Armenian Pentecostalism, I constantly doubted my salvation every time I had a wayward thought. I lived under a gospel of fear and trembling. I served a God who was out to get me. I worried that I would die after committing an incidental sin and burn in hell just because of an error in cosmic timing. That is the flawed and bewildering theology that this article is based upon.
     Proof texting is when you look in the Bible to find what you want, not to let the Scripture find and transform you where you are. You pull a verse here and there to prove your point without being informed by the whole canon of the text. If you do that, you can justify almost anything. You can easily develop a theology of judgment and fear.
     Is that the God you serve? Now, don’t get me wrong. I believe that God calls us into accountability and judges us. I also believe that only God is fully capable of judging us. What I also believe is that Christ died for all of our sins. The sins of the past, present and future are forgiven. The more I have been informed by the whole canon of Scripture, the more I realize that what God seeks is an open and contrite heart earnestly seeking Him. That God is not out to get me.
     That is still, to this day, a hard concept for me to grasp. I play those soul tapes of condemnation and fear whenever I slip. I look up and await fire and brimstone to fall from heaven and consume me. Slowly the Holy Spirit as been able to crack my bad theology and fill my soul with grace based theology. I am being taught by two different people who have a fuller developed grace theology that are helping me grasp the amazing fullness of the Gospel. I am finally beginning to understand what it means to be…

          Lost in Grace,
          Marty

Just so you know...

First of all, some of the posts are out of actual chronological order because, well, I'm cyber-challenged. Not that it is that big a deal...just thought you should know.

Secondly, these musings are the thoughts, reflections and insights of my soul. They are a peak inside...thanks be to God that I am...

Lost in Grace,
Marty

This is Kenna and Hanna...two disappointed children after DQ ran out of ice cream...LOL


Dairy Queen was out of ice cream. That was a tragedy. It was late on Saturday night and I was traveling with a friend and two tired five year olds (yes I am a brave soul). I saw up ahead the promise of culinary redemption...Soft serve ice cream. I love Blizzards, to near addiction status. After a long day at the theme park this would be the perfect snack for the ride home. We walked into the DQ, strolled up the counter and put the money down only to find out they were OUT OF ICE CREAM. How could this be? Isn't it the purpose of the DQ to have ice cream? Isn't that the sole reason they exist? Don't you only bet a hot dog or fries at the DQ as a precursor to ice cream? It was very disappointing.

Sunday morning came and I was speaking to two hundred and fifty youth when it occurred to me that many of our churches are like that DQ. They are missing their essential purpose, connecting people to God. That is why the church exists. It is not to have dinners and fund raisers for worthy causes, though those aren't bad things. It exists to connect people to God. If the Church fails to connect people to God, doesn't it cease to be the church? What if my church, your church, the Church, woke up and realized that essential truth? What difference would that make? Of course it would mean they would have to get serious about 'going deeper.' I remain:

Lost in Grace,
Marty

Love is...

Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not puffed up....sound familiar? I Cor. 13 is an awesome insert between chapters 12 and 14 that just kind of halts the flow of the letter and says, now a word from our sponsor...God. This is the kind of life you ought to live, a life of LOVE.

Now I'm not talking about LUVVV....you know the mushy, movie fantasy stuff of happily ever after. I'm talking about the stuff you have to struggle with every day. I mean come on, "Love bears ALL things?" WOW...that is a big demand. ALL things is a lot of things. It bears pain, heartache, struggles, hurt, joy, bliss, tears and laughter. That's the life of love we are after, the life of love that bears all things.

I'm glad we have Jesus to show us that stuff because, you know what, otherwise we wouldn't get it. I used to believe in happy ever after. I want to again, but today I believe that Christ shows us what true love is about. "Greater love has no one that to lay down their life for a friend..." Do you have a friend who you would lay down your life for? Do you have one who would lay down their life for you? Now that is a friend worth having! Thanks be to God that I remain:

Lost in Grace,
Marty