Our church has done it three times now.

The first time, about five years ago, a representative of Franklin Graham’s Boone, North Carolina ministry called, looking for a church in metro New Orleans to host a family from Bosnia coming to a local hospital to have the baby operated on. He said, “I’ve called all over and, frankly, I’ve been surprised that no one is interested. They all say they’ll have to get back with me and no one has.” I said, “Stop calling. You’ve called the right church.”

It took a dozen or more families for us to host the mother, her baby, and the woman interpreter for a solid 6 weeks or more. In addition to providing two bedrooms in a home, there were meals to prepare, and daily transportation to and from the hospital, some dozen miles away. Church members gave money, some drove their car, and many brought meals. Two families opened their homes, a month in one and several weeks in the other. The baby had his heart surgery and they all went back home, carrying happy memories of American hospitality and Christian love.

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A few mornings ago, I was about to check out of a motel in Alexandria and drive across town for an early breakfast meeting. Carrying my bag to the car in the parking lot, I was struck by one of the most glorious sunrises I’ve seen in years. Against a backdrop of indigo, the purples streaked across the morning sky, leaving bumps of orange and peach in their wake.

I turned around and went inside the lobby and called out to a dozen sleepy guests hovering over morning coffee with faces buried in the USA Todays, “Hey, everyone–come outside and see the most wonderful sunrise!” To their credit, most did. Two minutes later, it was forever gone.

I think it was Tony Campolo who says he tried for a long time to get his teenage daughter to get up and come out and watch the sunrise with him. She said, “Dad, if God had intended us to watch the sunrise, he’d have scheduled it at a decent hour.”

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Everyone needs a verse of Scripture to call his own. Here is mine.

Old Job was having a time of it. After the death of his children and the loss of his wealth, disease racked his body, leaving him covered with sores. Then, three friends showed up to comfort him–with accusations and blame. He needed a defense attorney and got instead three prosecutors!

The first speaker begins to set Job up for a fall. He’s going to accuse him of having sin in his life which has brought the judgment of God. But first, he reminds him of the way God has used him in the past.

“Your words have stood men on their feet; you have helped the tottering to stand.” (Job 4:4)

Tell me if that is not one of the finest attributes one man could ever pay another. It has become something of a goal for my preaching, that my sermons would be so filled with life and faith that the falling and the fallen would hear and stand up again and get back into life.

What power words have…

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It was Monday and I was headed for Alexandria, three hours away, for our annual Louisiana Baptist Convention due to get underway at 5:30 that evening. I’ve made the drive from our New Orleans home so many times–Interstate 10 through Baton Rouge to LaFayette, north on Interstate 49 to Alexandria–that I needed a change of scenery. That’s why I took highway 190 out of Baton Rouge, through the sugar cane country toward Opelousas, then north on 71 to Alexandria.

In the little town of Bunkie, I came upon a gasoline war of sorts, with service stations selling their stuff for $1.75 a gallon. I stopped to fill up and noticing the time, asked the attendant, “Where’s a good place to eat around here? A plate lunch.” He said, “The Bailey Hotel. One block past the light, then left one block.”

The sign in front says the Bailey was built in 1907, although the building has that fresh, springlike appearance like someone has just sunk some money into this place. Inside, I was the only diner in the restaurant, unless you counted the happy chattering of the Lions’ Club on the other side of the partition. As I sat there eating the special of the day, a little white-haired lady entered the room and began rearranging flowers. She greeted me and said something, and in a minute she was standing at my table telling me about the Bailey Hotel.

“I told my son not to buy this place three years ago. But he bought it anyway. And we’re glad. We love it. Although we need to get the word out on the rooms. These 30 rooms could use some customers.”

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As a child of the Depression, Jim Lancaster was poorer than most of us can imagine. When a church in his neighborhood announced they were having a vacation Bible school for two weeks, and at the end, each child would receive a free popsicle, Jim determined to attend. He had never actually tasted a popsicle, but he had seen them, and in 1930s Florida, anything cold and refreshing was a welcome treat.

Little Jim did not miss a day. Then, on the last day, the worker gave the children God’s plan of salvation. “You can be saved,” she said, “by praying and asking Jesus to forgive you of your sins and come into your heart.” She added, “If you want to do this, get up right now and come with me now. However, you will not get a popsicle.”

Out of over 200 children, two boys came forward, Jim being one of them. Years later, both of those boys became preachers of the Gospel.

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Barry is the treasurer of his church. A few days ago, he sat in my office and told me of the financial trouble his church had found itself in. They are running some thirty thousand dollars behind their million dollar budget. I said, “Do you have unpaid bills?” “No,” he said. I said, “And your church is without a pastor?” “Right.” I said, “Friend, you don’t have a financial crisis. Your church is doing just fine. Besides, you’re going to get a new leader. The offerings will go up once he arrives and begins his ministry. Stop worrying.”

On the other hand, a new pastor told how his church is not responding to his sermons on stewardship. “In fact,” he said, “the Sunday after I preached on giving, the offerings actually went down. I’ve been in the pastorate a long time, but never had that happen.”

I said, “I think I know what happened.” He was all ears. I said, “Not all churches are alike. Some have members with deep pockets. When the church gets behind financially, the pastor brings it to their attention, and they bring in the money, and the crisis ends. However, I’ve known your church for many years. You don’t have wealthy people. So, they’re not going to be able to respond immediately to your stewardship lessons. But just stay the course. Keep telling them. They’ll come through.”

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My friend Windy Rich had had a demanding week. When he arrived at church that Sunday morning, the associate pastor met him at the door and asked him to read a passage of Scripture in the worship service. Windy scanned it hastily, then, assured that he knew it, walked to the pulpit and intoned, “He that humbleth himself shall be exhausted.”

I’ve been thinking about fatigue lately. Not enough to exhaust me, you understand, but still…

What started it was finding an old journal and going over some notes on one of the busiest days of a long pastorate. It went something like this…

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Something happened to me today that brings back the absolutely most painful memory in my 42 years of pastoring churches.

That morning a long time ago, the phone rang at 4 a.m. Instantly awake, I grabbed it and heard a local doctor’s wife say, “Joe, Carlos just called from the hospital. He said, ‘Honey, pray for me. I’ve lost Rebecca’s baby and I’m losing Rebecca.'” I said, “I’m on my way.”

Rebecca’s husband Arlen was the lone tenant of the waiting room. He was pacing, crying, praying. We hugged and prayed and I sat down with him to wait and share his suffering.

Arlen and Rebecca had easily been the most popular junior high school teachers in our town, until he quit to take a job with a local plant in order to earn a better living for his family. Rebecca stayed home and started having babies. This would be their third child. The others, perhaps 2 and 4, were the most beautiful little girls anyone had ever seen.

For some reason, Rebecca had had a premonition about this birth. Even though the pregnancy seemed normal in every respect, she told Dr. Carlos, “When I go into the hospital to have this baby, I want you to stay with me until it’s over. Do not leave the hospital.” He gave her his word and kept it.

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