As we approach the Easter event, many of us begin to reflect once again on the death of the finest, the purest One ever to walk this planet.

It’s quite the indictment of humanity that earth could not tolerate Him and so put him to death.

In Robert Bolt’s prize-winning play, “A Man For All Seasons,” Sir Thomas More is beheaded for opposing the ungodly doings of King Henry VIII. (Or, to be more exact, for not approving them.) As the play winds to a close, a spokesman comes center stage and addresses the audience:

“I’m breathing…. Are you breathing, too?…. It’s nice, isn’t it? It isn’t difficult to keep alive, friends–just don’t make trouble–or if you must make trouble, make the sort that’s expected…..”

At the trial of Jesus, they said of him, “He has stirred up the people from Galilee to Jerusalem.” They got that right.

Look at the world we live in. It could use another stirring up.

Following is my very brief four-point observation on the Church and Easter. You know that the whole point of Easter–the crucifixion, the burial, the resurrection–was the Church, don’t you?

“Christ loved the Church and gave himself for her.” (Ephesians 5:25) And then, “Shepherd the church of God which He purchased with his own blood” (Acts 20:28).

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Good news is where you find it, and these days, living in New Orleans, we’ll take all we can get. The New Orleans Saints won the Super Bowl exactly one month ago today. Regardless what people down here say (“I predicted this.” Yeah, right. Sure you did.), we were as surprised as anyone else.

The downside of that great news is that a new season gets underway this summer and the Saints win will be ancient history. No sooner had Coach Sean Payton got back into the office on Airline Drive when sports reporters started badgering him, wanting to know, “Can you repeat?”

So much for the kind of good news we get in this life. Almost all of it has a dark side, something that takes the shine off it, that would rob it of a lasting joy. And yet, there are bits and pieces of news here and there that are light years beyond the other kind. They are pure joy and have no negatives whatever.

A few days ago, we gave the first 6 of our even dozen items of good news, the kind that never loses its luster and carries no negatives.

I promised to come back and give the last six. These are mine and the result of a lifetime of trying to live the Christian life. You’ll think of more to add to it.

7. When the Lord Jesus comes into your life, you become a child of God.

Not just his servant or friend, but his child. Not his admirer or supporter or member. His child. Not just a convert, a number, a scalp to be counted, but the very own born-again child of the living God.

“As many as received him (Jesus), he gave the power (or right or authority) to become children of God, even to those who believe in his name” (John 1:12).

Now, I suspect you are aware that scripture uses many metaphors and similes to tell us all we are in Christ. There are places in the New Testament, for instance, that tell us we are adopted into God’s family. And others tell us we are born again. Isn’t this contradictory? Not at all. Each brings something special to the picture.

In the new birth (John 3:3), we leave behind our previous existence and begin our spiritual lives as newborn infants. In adoption (Romans 8:15 and Galatians 4:5), we enter at whatever real age we happen to be. The Roman custom of adoption sheds light on this. Instead of the way we do (adopting infants), the Romans adopted fully grown adults in order to have an heir.

So, we are children of God. The Apostle John said, “Behold, what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us that we should be called the children of God!” (I John 3:1) Indeed.

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After a cold winter, everyone looks forward to the Spring. Well, today is March 5, and where I live–New Orleans, Louisiana–regardless of the calendar, it’s Springtime. Later this week the temperature will reach the 70s and after that, we’ll never look back.

The TV news people said today a number of economic indicators are really looking good in this country. We’re ready for this kind of “springtime” also; the winter of our economic discontent has been devastating to so many.

But, there’s a problem with this kind of good news. Know what it is?

After the Spring will come a blisteringly hot summer. And a few months later, winter again.

After a time of economic prosperity, sooner or later, there will come a downturn, a correction of the stock market, or whatever we choose to call it.

It’s life.

So, is there good news anywhere with no shadow to it, no dark side, no “other side of the coin”?

You bet there is.

Here are an even dozen pieces of really, really great news, none of which carry harmful side effects. (Note: A second article will give the last half of this; below are the first six news items.)

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Once you hear Calvin Miller, you never forget him. As creative a mind and as uncontainable an energy force as you will ever run up against. A preacher, pastor, professor, best-selling author, and accomplished author. And, I’m happy to say, a friend.

I heard him tell this story 15 years ago and have repeated my version of it ever since. Last night I found the notes taken from that message and felt that readers would enjoy it.

A traveler was making his way by foot through a strange and foreboding countryside. When a violent storm arose, he was forced to seek shelter. Coming upon a monastery, he was pleased to see a light shining through a window. He knocked. A monk came to the door.

“Come in, come in, stranger,” said the monk.

The brothers fed him and let him warm by their hearth.

“Would thou care to spend the night under our roof rather than return to the storm?” said the abbott, the head monk.

“I would indeed and I’m grateful,” said the traveler. “But in order to do so, I will need a few items. Could you please provide for me a rubber suit, a pound of butter, and a bass saxophone? Also, if you have it, two duck eggs and three turnips fresh from the garden.”

That night, all kinds of noises came from the visitor’s room. No one slept in the monastery that night.

The bad weather continued. The next night, the abbott invited the stranger to remain another night. “I thank you,” he said, “And, if you would be so kind, I will once again require the use of the rubber suit and bass saxophone, and another pound of butter, two more duck eggs and three turnips.”

That night was a repetition of the first, the strange noises filling the air, driving sleep from everyone. In all, as the storm lingered, the stranger stayed three nights. By now, the monks were beside themselves with fatigue.

On the morning of the fourth day, the sun came out.

As the visitor was leaving, the abbott walked out with him. “May I ask you what that was all about, this business of the rubber suit and the bass saxophone, the butter and eggs and turnips? All that noise coming from your room? We are beside ourselves with curiosity.”

The stranger said, “It’s an old family secret. I can tell you if you agree never to tell another living soul.”

The abbott agreed never to breathe a word of it to anyone. So he told him.

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Often, I like to use the Mississippi River as an analogy for the great torrent of offerings that flow from individuals into the church offering plates and eventually into the world.

I point out that this great body of water, which flows a couple of hundred yards below my house, is actually composed of individual drops that fell from the sky in a vast basin extending from Western New York State all the way to Eastern Montana.

In the same way, the hundreds of millions of dollars the churches of our denomination send to the fields of the world each year get their start from a child’s piggy bank, a widow’s pension and a young couple’s tithe.

Yesterday, I had an epiphany, one of those moments when you realize there’s far more to this than seemed obvious at first.

I was visiting a church not far from where I live. Although retired from being director of missions for the Baptist churches of metro New Orleans, they’re still on my heart and anything I can do to encourage one, I want to do it. Mark Tolbert, seminary professor and recent interim pastor of our church, is completing one year as the interim shepherd of that congregation and I do treasure this man. I wanted to hear him preach.

So, yesterday, I worshiped at Williams Boulevard Baptist Church in Kenner, Louisiana.

They received two offerings. The first, in the middle of the service, went for the budget, that is, the full ministries of their church. The second, at the end, was being sent to our International Mission Board for recovery work in Haiti and Chile, following their devastating earthquakes.

I dropped a few dollars into the second offering and something hit me.

Just as there are numerous locks and dams along the great Mississippi River, obstacles we might say, which the waters have to negotiate before they arrive at the sea, the offerings we place in the plate have a number of hurdles to overcome before they reach their destination.

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The book centered around the year 1940 and all the war-related events of that year: Hitler’s invasion of the Low Countries, Churchill’s coming to power, Dunkirk, the Blitz, FDR’s election to the third term, and the isolationism in the USA.

I told the author (via email) of my appreciation for the book and added, “That year is also special because I made my appearance on March 28, 1940.”

After thinking about that a moment, I added, “But don’t think me old just because I was born in 1940.”

Later, reflecting on that, I wondered why I’d gone to the trouble to say that, seeing as how I do not know that author and don’t expect to meet him. Why was that important to me?

I decided it’s a personal thing.

None of us want to be pigeon-holed because of demographics or statistics, nor for preconceptions or ignorance. Just because you are a Southerner does not make you a redneck. Living in Mississippi does not mean you are barefooted. All Louisianians do not speak Cajun. All Yankees are not rude.

Here’s a short list of assumptions I do not want people making about me. Again, it’s just a personal thing. Readers will have your own list.

Do not assume…

1) that I’m humorless just because I’m a preacher.

2) that I’m idle just because I’m retired.

3) that I’m unquestioning just because I’m a Christian.

4) that I’m saintly just because I’ve been saved since 1951.

5) that I’m intolerant just because I’m evangelistic.

6) that I’m homophobic just because I’m a conservative Christian.

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This is not the usual kind of article with a spiritual message.

This is a report on New Orleans. Specifically, it’s about the corruption in the police department and an FBI investigation that is busting this city wide open. Thank the Lord. It’s been a long time coming.

Today, retired NOPD Lt. Michael Lohman pleaded guilty in federal court to one count of conspiracy to obstruct justice. He faces up to 5 years in prison and a fine of a quarter of a mil.

This is the Danziger Bridge shooting that took place on September 4, 2005, less than one week after Hurricane Katrina. The city was still in lockdown and a report came in to the police that there was a shooting on this bridge.

If you are familiar with the New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary on Gentilly Boulevard, then you know the Danziger Bridge. You may not know it by that name–I’d never heard it called that until this shooting happened–but it’s a few blocks east of the seminary on Gentilly. It spans the Industrial Canal, and is parallel to the High-Rise Bridge on I-10.

No one is questioning that when the police arrived–driving a rental truck of all things–they shot and killed two men and wounded 6 others. Witnesses say the men were unarmed and the police shot without any provocation.

Every investigation until now–and this has been in and out of the news for nearly 5 years–has exonerated the cops. Now we know why.

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What I call my “New Orleans Sermon” goes like this: In order to start a parade (a movement of some kind that catches on and makes a lasting difference), four things should be kept in mind:

–someone has to be first. This is the person of vision.

–someone has to follow. Getting people to buy into your vision is not a simple thing.

–parades tend to fizzle. So they must be constantly renewed.

–the object is to finish strong. The leader must keep his eye on the prize, and not be sidetracked, deterred or detoured.

Let’s focus on the first of these: “In starting a parade, someone has to be first.”

I’m thinking of a number of movements (that is, parades) that make our point.

Global Maritime Ministries, a work with seafarers and port workers for the New Orleans riverfront, grew out of the vision of John Vandercook nearly 50 years ago.

Baptist Crossroads Ministries, building homes for the poor of the Ninth Ward of New Orleans, grew out of a vision of David Crosby, pastor of the FBC of N.O. I was sitting beside him the very moment that happened.

The Southern Baptist Convention’s “Disaster Relief Ministry,” which is led and administered through our North American Mission Board, got its start through Bob somebody-or-other who directed the Baptist Men’s work for the BGCT (Baptist General Convention of Texas) in the 1960s. Today, the SBC DR work has 1,000 units all across the country, ready to respond to emergencies in a moment.

And another, which is not a religious work but which we all treasure and which makes the point very well, is the Adopt-a-Highway program. It got its start in Tyler, Texas, one day in 1984 when a DOT engineer named James Evans grew concerned over trash blowing out of the pickup in front of him. Today, that program is in 49 states and a number of foreign countries.

You want to start a parade? You have an idea for a movement that could make a real difference in people’s lives? Excellent. Good for you. Let’s talk about that.

But first, let me tell you about Harlan Proctor.

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With a few exceptions, all churches were small at one time. They began with a handful of people and went forward from there. Some grew a great deal and are still expanding, some grew a little and leveled off, while some failed to grow at all.

If most of the churches in America of all denominations are small–and in my mind, that means 100 or less in attendance–then several things are true.

–In the words of Lincoln about common folk, “God must have loved them; He made so many of them.”

–Small churches must be doing something right or people would not keep attending them.

–The “bigness culture” that is so dominant in American life has dumped a burdensome load of guilt on these small congregations. “If you’re so good, why aren’t you big?” seems to be the mantra.

–For every book celebrating the small church, there are a hundred telling them how to leave smallness behind and become “great.”

Someone should put in a good word for small churches. Think I’ll give it a try.

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The late great evangelist Vance Havner, who never weighed more than 120 pounds in his life would be my guess, used to quip, “I’m the healthiest sick-looking person you’ve ever seen in your life!”

It’s not easy to tell the state of a person’s health by looking. That’s why doctors put us through a whole battery of tests. Some abnormal conditions are harder to diagnose than others.

Some churches are so clearly sick that a visitor does not even have to get out of his car to tell. The run-down condition of the facilities, the two-month-old message on the outside sign, and the sparcity of vehicles in the parking lot tell you all you want to know about that church. Unless you are the invited speaker for the day, you drive on down the highway to another more inviting looking church.

Other churches give signs of being healthy but have fault lines running through the interior of their relationships and operations.

A friend who read our earlier posting on “building a healthy church,” and who himself has been wounded by an unhealthy congregation or two in his 20 years in the ministry, suggested we try our hand at identifying characteristics of unhealthy churches.

Nothing that follows is the result of any scientific polling or in-depth studies. As with almost everything on this blog, this is my observation from nearly a half century in the ministry.

What does a sick church look like? How can we recognize one when we spot one?

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