32 cartoons to illustrate the “2005 Winter Bible Study” for Southern Baptists. These are free for your use in teaching (for use with ‘powerpoint’, overhead projectors, etc), but there is a small charge for magazines and books wishing to use them. for info.
You’re Going To Be Needing The Holy Spirit More Than You Ever Imagined
The church I served for nearly 14 years and left last Easter is in the process of calling a new pastor. To the utter surprise and delight of almost everyone in the church, the committee has recommended a 27-year-old doctoral student at the local seminary who has incredible gifts in a hundred directions–but absolutely no pastoral experience. Sound scary to you? Does to me. For him more than for us.
I heard him preach Sunday night and could see why everyone who hears him comes away impressed by a depth of maturity far beyond his years. The pastor search committee did not play it safe, but–choose your metaphor here–was willing to think outside the box, color outside the lines, take some risks to do what they perceived the Lord commanded.
If I were the devil and wanted to damage the cause of Jesus Christ on earth, I would set myself to dividing Christians–separating believers from their congregations and erecting barriers between churches. Make them all independent. Convince them they don’t need others, that they are able to go it alone. Sow seeds of mistrust, play on their fears that they lose something when they cooperate.
If I were the devil and wanted to separate believers, I could chalk it up as ‘done’ and go on home. We are separate already. But the devil did not do it; we did this to ourselves.
We prize our independence. We prefer the solitary life. No one tells me what to do. I am in control. I don’t like the give and take of working with others. This way there’s no yielding, no submission, no humbling before others because there are no others in our little world. Each of us becomes a cosmos unto ourselves.
I am immensely burdened for weak Christians and weak churches I see all around.
The other morning as I was dressing for work, an old 1940s movie was showing on the classics channel. Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck were meeting on the sly in the local grocery store, standing near a display of cereal, pretending to be shopping while carrying on their illicit conversation. What struck me about that was the cigarette smoke that could be seen curling up from off screen, presumably from their hands, toward their faces.
It occurred to me that I cannot remember the last time I’ve seen someone smoking in a store. I love the change.
Not long after I came to the New Orleans area as pastor in 1990, Ochsner Hospital began posting signs announcing that “this is a smoke-free zone.” I thought how strange to have no one smoking anywhere inside the hospital.
These days, no hospital allows smoking inside its buildings. The very idea is repugnant to us.
If I heard it once while watching the Olympics, I must have heard it a dozen times. The champion runner from Jamaica, the one so admired and feared by our best runners, is actually a student at the University of South Carolina. The Puerto Rican basketballer who led his team to dominate the USA Dream Team in the first game–his name is Arroyo–actually plays for the Denver Nuggets. The giant who led in China’s athletes during the opening ceremonies plays for the Houston Rockets. Another nation’s champion will be a senior at LSU this year. And so on. Again and again.
The old categories just aren’t holding like they used to. Borders and nationalities mean less and less. And did you notice that you cannot tell who is American by their names? Our people–and our names–come from all over the planet.
I recall when purchasers of automobiles were urged to “buy American” to save jobs here at home. There is a reason we don’t hear that any more. First, the plants assembling “American” cars began using parts manufactured all over the world and brought together at a plant somewhere in the states. Then, foreign countries began relocating their automobile plants to the states. Nissan, Mercedes, Toyota and others have built billion dollar plants in states not far from where I live.
To Jesus, everything revolved around obedience. In His relationship with the Father, obedience was all: “I do always do the things that please Him.” (John 8:29) As for us, it’s the same: “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’ and do not do the things I tell you?” (Luke 6:46)
What started me thinking about that is something my friend Shane told us the other night. I was preaching for four days at a church in Booneville, Mississippi, and Shane–minister of youth at a church in the next town–came over to sing on Monday night. Just before the song, he told the congregation what happened to him the previous Friday.
“It was my day to do the hospitals,” he said, “which means I had to drive to Memphis. On the way home, I drove past the airport there, and something happened. The Lord called my mind to that sack of tracts (booklets that tell how to know Jesus as Savior) in my truck, and impressed on me that I should go into the airport and hand them out to travelers. So, I parked my truck and went inside.
As I write this, I’m getting ready for a test at the hospital. Just routine, I think. Last week I went for an annual checkup and my doctor spotted a couple of areas for which she wanted more tests.
About the time I get through with these tests, a note will arrive from the dentist announcing my 6 month checkup. Right now, my car is overdue for its 3,000 mile oil change and it’s time for a tire rotation. The house needs painting and the air conditioning unit is getting some work.
Nothing about ‘maintenance’ sounds very glamorous. Friend of mine is in charge of maintenance at a chemical plant up the river, but don’t let it fool you. We’re not talking about sweeping the floors and mowing the grass. His area is keeping those massive machines and intricate processes working as they were intended.
That lovely old car you spotted on the highway still purring like a kitten after 200,000 miles functions well not because some rich guy bought it and spent a fortune overhauling it, but more than likely because its owner took good care of it from the first day. He had it serviced regularly and kept it in a garage and treated it as an investment.
The (New Orleans) Times-Picayune for Friday, September 17, 2004, is filled with all the things you get following a giant storm. Large color photos of hurricane Ivan’s devastation along the Alabama and Florida coast occupy page after page, taking your breath away. Here is a picture of a five story condominium in ruins, while alongside it are one story homes still standing, seemingly untouched. Go figure.
Our governor’s office assures us that Mrs. Blanco does indeed plan to call a meeting of all the agencies and find a way to speed up the evacuation of the population of this city. We hear this every hurricane, but she’s new in office, so maybe she can pull it off. Stories abound of ten hour drives to Baton Rouge, only 70 miles up Interstate 10, and of citizens arriving in Memphis or Houston to find every hotel room filled.
The other night my wife and I watched actor Sam Waterston portray Abraham Lincoln delivering what is called “the Cooper Union speech” on C-Span. Harold Holzer’s recent book claims this 1860 speech actually made Lincoln president.
In preparation for the re-enactment of the speech, I pulled down a biography on Lincoln and read up on the occasion. In the middle of the oration, Lincoln has a line that smacked me right between the eyes. It was so out of place, I could not believe it was coming from a historical figure from over 140 years back. He said, “That is cool.” He did. It’s in there, in black and white.
The context was this. South Carolina was threatening to withdraw from the Union if a Republican was elected president in the election later that year. So, if you elect a Republican, the state leaders said, and we secede, it will be your fault. Lincoln commented, “That is cool.”
I watched as Sam Waterston read the speech and uttered that line. Not a single comment was made in the followup discussion about those three words, but I lay awake that night wondering. Next day, I went through Professor Holzer’s book looking for some explanation, and found none. That’s when I decided to e-mail him.
I wish I could find that truck driver and give him back that five dollars. Shucks, I’d give him twenty-five dollars just to be free of this memory of the time I did not do my job.
I was a sophomore in college, living that summer with my brother Ron and his wife Dorothy, and trying to scrounge up money any way I could. When I noticed the fellow across the street and how his truck’s lettering on the door was faded, I went into action. “I’ll repaint that on both doors for five dollars,” I told him. Bear in mind, at that time, five dollars was a day’s wages for me.
He agreed and paid me in advance. I brought out my paints and brushes and went to work. I do not recall what interrupted me that day. Probably he had to go to work or something, and I was going to finish it later. But I never did. I moved across town to the campus and put the man out of my mind. From time to time, Dorothy would remind me gently that the neighbor was waiting for me to come back and finish the job. He gave up on me and that was that. Almost.