“You can’t trust everything you see on the internet these days.” –Abraham Lincoln.
You get the impression some people find a pithy saying and decide it would carry greater weight if attached to the name of someone important. So, they say Lincoln said it. Or Napoleon. Or Henry Ward Beecher. Or Pogo. Or Charlie Brown.
A magnet on my refrigerator has this one: “It’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” –Abraham Lincoln.
I find myself doubting he said such a thing. It sounds too bumper-stickerish to have come from our esteemed sixteenth president.
So, with my laptop open, I typed in “Did Lincoln say that?” and got all the sources one could ever require confirming or denying various attributions to Mr. Lincoln.
Fewer churches are having revivals these days, and the loss is considerable.
At the age of 11 I was saved in a revival in a Free Will Baptist Church. A full decade later I was called to preach in a revival in a Southern Baptist Church.
I believe in revivals.
In my retirement ministry–for lack of a better term–I do a half dozen revivals a year, in most cases beginning on Sunday morning and going through Wednesday night. Often, we’ll start with a churchwide dinner on Saturday night to kick it off.
More and more these days, I suggest to host pastors a couple of things to make the meeting more meaningful and last longer. See what you think.
“One said to Him, ‘Look, your mother and your brothers are standing outside, seeking to speak with you.’ But He answered and said to the one who told Him, ‘Who is My mother and who are my brothers?’ And He stretched out His hand toward His disciples and said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of My Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother'” (Matthew 12:47-50).
I’m so sorry, Catholic friends. But Scripture will not allow you to worship Mary.
There is no place for Mariolatry, as it is known, in the life of Jesus’ disciples.
We will give her the honor Scripture gives her. We have no trouble calling her blessed, for who would not be blessed by being chosen to bear God’s Son into the world. But no, she is not “the mother of God.” Any way you slice it, the only way you can make Scripture justify worship of Mary is to ignore everything but a few selected verses.
A woman called out of the crowd to Jesus, “Blessed is the womb that bore you! And blessed are the breasts that nursed you!” Jesus’ answer is significant. “More than that, blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it!” (Luke 11:27-28).
Jesus would not allow people to make of Mary more than she was.
(I posted a paragraph on Facebook calling for pastors to dress “to inspire confidence”–and not look like they’d been out hitchhiking all night. It’s important to note that I did not say he should wear the uniform of the previous generation–a coat and tie–but merely to “dress one step in front of most of the men in the church,” whatever that means. Twenty-four hours later, we had 245 comments. Clearly, people have strong feelings about this.)
“If I see you standing at the pulpit wearing a suit and a tie, I’m out of there.”
I smiled at that. The fellow who said it is so dead-set on making sure the church does not put too much emphasis on appearance that he…well, puts too much emphasis on appearance.
As I write, the television set in this motel room is running the results of last night’s Iowa caucuses. At some point I noticed something about the men candidates for nomination for president.
All were wearing suits and white shirts and ties.
Watch any newscast. The anchormen are wearing suits and ties.
This cannot be accidental. It cannot be because they are stuck in a rut. Nor can it be because they are trying to flaunt their wealth or impress the world.
These people never do anything–repeat, never do anything!–without good cause.
So, why do the candidates and the anchor people dress up when they go to work?
We will pause here while you consider your answer.
My brother Ron, age 80 as I write, is still active in the ministry after over 53 years. In addition to preaching at a church near his home, he holds services at a nursing home. Ron says, “For the past 23 years, I’ve done a monthly service at a local nursing home. I enter, knowing that this may be the last message they will hear and I act accordingly. They love to hear me sing Fa Sol La and I accommodate them. No messages on tithing or knocking on doors but a message from the Word that will help them cross the bar a little easier.” (Note: Fa Sol La is also known as Sacred Harp Singing.)
My friend Charlotte Arthur flies under the radar in her nursing home ministry. Few people know of her ministry to these invalids. Charlotte visits and ministers and devotes herself to comforting these who are in the declining years of life. As her former pastor, I accompanied her on one occasion to visit an elderly friend who had served our church for decades. Charlotte and a friend or two had pulled the strings to get Cleve Davenport into that nursing home where he was being cared for night and day. I asked her how she got started in this work.
“When I was six years old,” she said, “my mother took me with her to visit people in nursing homes. So, I’ve done it all my life.” She paused and said, “I love it.”
Here are five statements on nursing home ministry to encourage you.
“And many of the Samaritans of that city believed in Him because of the word of the woman who testified, ‘He told me all that I ever did.’ So when the Samaritans had come to Him, they urged Him to stay with them, and He stayed there two days. And many more believed because of His own word. Then, they said to the woman, ‘Now we believe, not because of what you said, for we ourselves have heard Him and we know that this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world'” (John 4:39-42).
Paul Harvey used to call this “the rest of the story.”
We preachers dearly love the Lord’s encounter with the woman at the well, given in the first half of John 4. It’s insights and teachings, its power and pathos, make it one for the ages. But the story does not end the way we generally conclude it, with her rushing back into the town to tell her friends about the Man she had met. There is more.
As the townspeople flowed out to meet the Lord, they begged Him to stay, which He did. Then, two days later, when He left, Jesus left behind a lot of new believers. That’s when some of them gave us the memorable statement which I’m calling “overlooked scripture.”
“Now we believe…not just because of your testimony that He told you everything you ever did…but because we have met Him for ourselves, and we know that He is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world.”
That’s strong stuff.
Al Maury pulled the old beat-up Volkswagen bus into the bank parking lot on Decatur Street and killed the engine. As the six seminary students bailed out, he opened the rear door and took out a microphone-on-a-stand and flipped a switch, turning on the transmitter. “McKeever, you’re preaching tonight!”
Oh my. A baptism by fire. Thrown into the deep water without a life preserver.
We were preaching on the streets of New Orleans’ fabled French Quarter.
The very thought struck terror into my heart. And yet, I had volunteered for it.
The year was 1964 and I was a new student at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. All first-year students were required to participate in one “field mission” ministry. Each Tuesday, the student body gathered in Frost Chapel for a report and testimony time. Choices for these ministries included helping start-up churches, hospital and nursing home ministry, the New Orleans Seamen’s Service, neighborhood mission centers, after-school tutoring, and such. Determined to rise above my fears of cold-turkey witnessing, I had chosen the scariest thing on the list.