Odds and Ends from Here and There

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I used to be a deli worker but couldn’t cut the mustard!

I used to be a musician but wasn’t noteworthy.

I wanted to be an evangelist, but they put me out to pasture.

I tried being a dentist, but hated living hand to mouth.

I looked into working at a hydroelectric plant, but there it was just one dammed thing after another. (Sorry, Mom.)

Being a math teacher looked good, but that had too many problems.

So, I became a pastor where there are no problems and everyone loves everybody else.

“That fish I caught weighed 20 pounds!” “Twenty pounds! Were there any witnesses?” “Of course. Otherwise, it would have weighed 30 pounds.”

After the Marx Brothers came out with their movie “A Night in Casablanca,” Warner Brothers studio threatened to sue them. The title was too much like their movie “Casablanca.” Groucho Marx ended the nonsense by threatening to sue Warner Brothers for plagiarizing the name “Brothers.”

The Statler Brothers singing group (remember them? They were so terrific. Are they still around?) enjoyed telling how they chose their name. They were sitting around a hotel room trying to find a suitable name for a quartet. Someone spotted the box of Statler tissues on a table and suggested Statler would be a classy name. And that’s how it happened. In telling that story, they would always add, “Just think—we could have been the Kleenex Brothers!”

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Inspecting Things in New Orleans

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In late summer of 2006, we reported here of the hiring of Boston’s Robert Cerasoli as the first Inspector General for New Orleans. Provisions for this office had been on the city’s books for years, but nothing had ever been done. With the post-Katrina upheavals and scandals, a hue and cry went up from citizens for the city council to staff the position. The plan called for the IG to see how business is done in New Orleans government and identify wrongs as well as suggest changes to prevent wrongs.

In that introductory piece, we wished Cerasoli well and said a prayer for him—and got an e-mail response from him (to my amazement).

“Mr. C” identified himself as a fellow believer and said we’d have to get together. We set up an appointment at Loyola University which was providing temporary office space for him. The day I went by, Cerasoli was conducting assembly-line interviews. One television news crew was interviewing him in the college’s conference room while another waited in the off-room where I was. The crew and I chatted, I pulled out my pad and sketched them, and when Cerasoli came out, he invited me to sit in on the interview. That was educational.

The most interesting part of the interview came after the cameras were turned off. The news anchor mentioned to “Mr. C” that he was conducting his own little investigation into the take-home cars the city was providing for employees. There seemed to be no oversight to the program and no accountability for either the cars or the fuel. Cerasoli mentioned that ever since a car had been offered to him upon his arrival, he had had some of the same thoughts.

That would be the subject of one of his first investigations.

Wednesday night, Inspector General Cerasoli revealed the results of that investigation. The lead paragraph on the front page article in Thursday’s Times-Picayune reads:

“Mayor Ray Nagin’s administration allows too many take-home vehicles, does not keep track of the fleet, and could save close to $1 million by eliminating the expense, the New Orleans inspector general stated in his first report in 16 months on the job.”

The 53 page report covered 13 city departments. Here are some of its findings:

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How to Pray When You Feel Unworthy

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If we were required to be worthy of entering the Lord’s presence before our prayers were heard, Heaven would never hear a peep out of me.

When the young Martin Luther knelt to pray, a sense of shame often overwhelmed him. He was unworthy to approach the Lord and knew it. Some scriptures in particular, instead of assisting him, only added to his misery.

“Who may ascend into the hill of the Lord? Or who may stand in His holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart….” (Psalm 24:4a)

That let Luther out–as it does me, and I suspect you, too. Who among us is innocent, who has not “lifted up his soul to an idol, nor sworn deceitfully”? (Psalm 24:4b)

Philip Yancey says as a young monk Luther would spend hours trying to identify every stray thought and sin in order to confess it. “No matter how thorough his confession, as he knelt to pray he felt himself rejected by a righteous God.”

The breakthrough came, Yancey says in “Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference?” when Luther saw that in Jesus Christ God was pouring out grace and forgiveness to the foulest of sinners, the least worthy.

Thereafter, Luther recognized feelings of unworthiness and shame for what they were, agents of the devil which he rejected and handed to the Lord in gratitude.

It is indeed true that we are all unworthy. Without even understanding all its apocalyptic ramifications, the poorest of believers will read in Revelation 5 and say, “Yes, yes.”

“I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, ‘Who is worthy to open the scroll and to loose its seals?” John says, “I wept much, because no one was found worthy to open and read the scroll or to look at it.” And then, shortly, he hears the angelic chorus intoning, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain….”

I am unworthy; Christ is all-worthy.

It’s one thing to know that and another to live it, to believe it in our heart of hearts, and to feel it.

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How to Pray When You’re Too Tired to Pray

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“Lord, I’m Tired. Amen.” That’s the caption on the most popular cartoon I ever produced. It has been clipped and pinned to bulletin boards in many places. Apparently, I’m not the only one who sometimes feels too tired to pray.

So, how does one pray when he’s tired?

The very question presupposes that we are going to pray each day and even at a specific time. Otherwise, if a person has no time and place to pray, when he/she is tired, the thought of praying never enters their minds. They come home fatigued and drop into bed without a thought of needing to pray.

The short answer to the question is to bear in mind that the Father sees our tiredness and understands the limits on our spirituality at that moment. He knows. He understands. And He’s okay by it.

We must forever do away with the image of the Heavenly Father sitting over us with a stopwatch or a clipboard to gauge the number of minutes we spend in prayer or the intensity with which we commune with Him.

“He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust.” (Psalm 103:14)

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How to Pray When You Don’t Feel Like Praying

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If there is a church on the planet which teaches young Christians and new believers how to pray, I’ve not heard of it. And yet, “Teach us to pray” (Luke 18:1) is one of the primary requests the twelve apostles had of the Lord Jesus. He clearly spent time teaching them to pray, both by His example and His instruction.

You would think this most basic of all Christian disciplines would be taught to every new believer and youngster growing up in the church.

The fact that any of us learn to pray at all is a tribute to dogged determination to acquire this skill in contacting the Almighty and connecting His will with our world.

In his book, “Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference?” Philip Yancey points out that Jesus gave very few rules for prayer. “His teaching reduces down to three general principles: Keep it honest, keep it simple, and keep it up.”

That’s as good a starting place as we can find.

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Rumors and Whom They Hurt

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It would have been almost funny had it not been so serious.

In a session with the leadership of a troubled church, I gave them examples of congregations I’ve seen over nearly a half-century of ministry that dealt with similar divisive situations as they were facing, sometimes wisely and sometimes not.

I told of one church where the new pastor was discovered to be a homosexual and was making overtures to a student in the congregation. When the deacon leadership found out, they dealt with it promptly and firmly. All the congregation knew was that the pastor resigned suddenly and was moved back to South Carolina. Because the members supported their leadership, no one left the church. Six months later, I came as pastor of that wonderful church and stayed over a dozen years.

I told of a church where the new pastor’s girlfriend’s father came to town and confronted him. “Tell these people what you’ve been doing or I’ll tell them for you!” The pastor called a quick meeting of the deacons and informed them of this sordid business in his “distant past which the Lord has forgiven.” The deacons had no clue what to do but within days, the congregation began unraveling at the seams. Seven months later, they finally voted that pastor out, but not before half the congregation had departed. A year later, I came as pastor of that damaged church and stayed nearly fourteen years.

One church handled its problem well, the other did not.

Then, a week after our meeting, the chairman of deacons of the church I was trying to help called. “One of our former pastors was talking to some of our members this week. He told them you were the preacher who tore up that church. He said you were the culprit.” Furthermore, he said, that rumor was being circulated throughout the congregation.

I said, “Can you give me that pastor’s phone number?”

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Lordy, Lordy, Lordy

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First.

William Perkins, editor of Mississippi Baptist’s weekly “The Baptist Record,” reports in the December 11 issue of a creative Christmas gift that Planned Parenthood has concocted: a gift certificate for an abortion.

“From the folks who gave us ‘Choice on Earth’ Christmas cards last year in a twisted effort to commemorate this country’s modern-day Slaughter of the Innocents that has claimed more than 50 million babies, the Indiana state affiliate of Planned Parenthood is offering gift certificates that can be redeemed for any of their ‘services.'”

The come-on promises that by giving a friend this certificate you will “contribute to their health throughout the year.” They don’t tell how such a gift will contribute to the health of the aborted babies, William notes.

He quotes Alveda King, niece of Martin Luther King, Jr., who said, “The word inappropriate hardly describes Planned Parenthood’s scheme. To give someone a gift card from the nation’s largest abortion business is to give death for Christmas.”

She continues, “Planned Parenthood really should call these ‘King Herod’ certificates after the Roman ruler who slaughtered tiny babies in his vain attempt to kill the baby Jesus. Better yet, it should just leave Christmas, a celebration of birth, hope, and life, completely alone.”

Amen, sister. And Brother Perkins.

Second.

We in the New Orleans area have just been treated to the most ghastly display of the flesh, a nightmarish picture of what happens when one’s ego goes unchecked.

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Prayer’s Formula

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If you have to have a formula for prayer — and I’m not suggesting you do — I have a suggestion, at least for the beginning. Consider this….

“Dear Lord,

In the wondrous name of Jesus,

Through the precious blood of Jesus,

For the glorious sake of Jesus,

I come to Thee….”

The first — the name of Jesus — is about Christ. Who He is and by implication, who we are.

The second — the blood of Jesus — is about the cross. What He did and thus how we got here.

The last — the sake of Jesus — is about the cause. What He wants and why we’re here.

The first, the Name, is about the audacity of praying in the first place, our right be here. We enter the Holy of Holies through the Name that is above all other names. “For there is no other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). “And whatever you ask in My name, that I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son.” (John 14:13)

The second, the blood, is about the authority with which we enter this most sacred place in the universe. “We come boldly unto the throne of grace.” “With His own blood He entered the Most Holy Place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption” (Hebrews 9:12). “…how much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without spot to God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?” (9:14)

The third, the sake, is about the authenticity with which we pray. This is not about us. It is “for thy sake.” “Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” “Have thine own way, Lord.” “I delight to do thy will.” “What would you have me to do?”

Now, by contrast….

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Snowing in New Orleans

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“Whose woods these are I think I know,

His house is in the village though.

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.”

Every time we get a snow of any degree, I pull out my volume of Robert Frost poems and walk into the woods and read that one titled something like “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Even those not familiar with it know the last part…

“…but I have miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.”

We woke up granddaughter Leah Peters, our first-born, now 19 years old, down from New Hampshire for a week, and said, “Thank you for bringing the snow!” She sleepily came to the front door and looked out at a world all too familiar to every New Englander, rubbed the nighttime out of her eyes and said, “You’re welcome,” then went back to bed.

The complication for me is that I’m trying to drive north to Jackson, Mississippi today for the memorial service for Dr. Frank Pollard, scheduled for 2 pm at the First Baptist Church. I’ve assured Margaret if the roads get too bad, I’ll turn around. And I’ve given my cell phone number to Mary Glass in Jackson and asked her to let me know if she learns the service has been postponed. I don’t want to miss this opportunity to express my deep appreciation for such a dear brother in Christ.

In the daily call to my nearly 93-year-old mom on the Alabama farm, I was exulting about the snow. She said, “West Virginia ruined you!” We laughed at that.

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In the Hands of an Unpredictable Father

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After the busiest autumn in memory — with outside speaking in Virginia, Alabama, Oklahoma, Mississippi, and Louisiana, alongside my regular work here at the associational office — I finished up Tuesday night with a ministers and wives Christmas banquet in the western section of our state. Suddenly the calendar is clear for the rest of December and throughout most of January. It’s a strange feeling, after praying so diligently about each one of those preaching assignments for months and then to have them abruptly go away.

Recently, I felt the Lord impressing upon me that just because the event was over (and that I had traveled to that city, arrived at the church, gotten up, delivered the message, and left town without betraying the Lord, embarrassing my hosts or humiliating myself!), that was no reason to quit praying for those who had heard the sermons. Ever since I’ve continued praying for the friends who attended the two day associational meeting in Newport News in October, the directors of missions in Alabama, the pastors and others in Alabama who made up that convention audience in November, the church members in several states where I brought Sunday messages, and the pastors and associational leaders in Oklahoma.

Praying what? Not knowing what else to pray for, I simply ask the Lord to bless the continuing effect of the messages He gave me in the hearts and minds of those who heard. Beyond that, I just leave it with the Lord. (What I most certainly do not ask is that He will let anything about me personally linger in their hearts; it’s about Him, not me.)

The biggest difference in my preaching at special events now and say, twenty-five years ago, is prayer. From the moment the invitation arrives, I add it to my daily prayer routine and intercede for those who will be present and seek God’s will for what to preach. Invariably now, when I rise to preach, I am as sure as I can be that I know what He wants me to say. And that, I confess to you, is a far cry from where I used to be.

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