Go Fish!: Tell Me a Story

Like most people, I love a good story, especially one that has great characters. Which is why I love the Christmas story in Luke so much, because the characters a so rich. They’re also great evangelists, which I always like to read about, because I know I fall down in that area often; I need good role models to look up to and try to emulate.

Here are some of those great characters, and what we can learn from them when it comes to evangelism.

Zechariah

I love the story of Zechariah at the start of Luke. What a great dramatic curtain raiser to the Gospel story. I’ve often imagined what it would be like to be sent into the most holy and sacred part of the temple (so holy I’ve heard they tied a rope to your foot so they could pull you out if you saw God and were struck dead), and there before me is a heavenly angel.

I always feel for the people in the Bible who do what I know I would do in those situations: I’d be completely incredulous. Here’s poor Zechariah, terrified, overwhelmed by fear, and every time I read about his reaction it feels to me like he gets dinged on a technicality. When the angel Gabriel tells him that he and his wife are going to have a son, Zechariah states the obvious.

“How will I know this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.”

I feel for you Zechariah; I probably would have responded the same way. But Gabriel is not amused. He tells Zechariah that because he questioned him, Zechariah will be mute until all that has been foretold actually happens.

Later, when John is born and then circumcised eight days later, the floodgates open and Zechariah pores forth with his story to the entire assembly. John will be a prophet who prepares the way before the Messiah.

The Shepherds

In Chapter 2 we witness the great story about those lowly shepherds keeping watch over their flocks. An angel comes again, this time with an entire angelic back-up choir, to tell of the birth of Jesus. The shepherds want to see this great thing that has happened in Bethlehem, and when they do see it for themselves, they tell anyone in the community who will listen. And then they continue praising God and retelling the story through worship.

Simeon and Anna

Next we hear from Simeon, a righteous and devout man who had already been tipped off by the Holy Spirit that he would get to see the Messiah before he died. Following another nudge by the Spirit, he shows up at the Temple just in time for Jesus’ circumcision. Before the entire community he declares that this baby is indeed the Messiah.

And then immediately we read of the faithful testimony of the prophet Anna, who is at the Temple at that time and “began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.”

We are Mute, but Can Learn From These Examples

How often have I been as mute as Zechariah? In his case, he wanted to tell the story, but was forced to be silent until the right time. I have to admit, I often don’t want to tell the story of Jesus. My muteness isn’t ordained it’s self-prescribed. And my fear isn’t because I’ve seen something heavenly; it’s because I fear what others in the culture will think of me. I fear rejection by my peers. I fear I will be discounted and perhaps even discriminated against.

I want to be more like those shepherds. I want to see the great thing that has happened – is happening in my life today – and then tell everyone who will listen. I want to keep telling the story through worship. Or I want to stand before the community like Zechariah, Simeon and Anna, and share the Good News, because it really is good news. I want to be faithful to those times the Holy Spirit nudges me into action to share with others that news.

It’s worth telling and retelling the Christmas story, because it’s such an important story. Not only because it tells of the time when a poor, vulnerable baby came into this world to be her King. But because it reminds us that the story of Jesus is something truly good and worthy of sharing, and it gives us concrete examples of how to do that.

This Christmas let us tell the world a story.

NASCAR Living Ain't for Me: How 'Bout You?

If my father was still alive, this coming Sunday morning he'd be sitting (if his health allowed) on a pew at First Presbyterian Church of Anderson, SC. Later, he'd be sitting in his recliner watching TNT — watching a bunch of cars going very fast around and around in a circle. Actually, more in an oval. He loved NASCAR.

Thing is, despite his love of NASCAR, of cars going close to 200 mph chasing a checkered flag, he personally drove like molasses being poured out of a bottle on a cold winter day. In that way, his driving reflected his general approach to life. He was a plodder. I'm inclined to think that, as a culture, our driving habits do indeed reflect our general approach to life. And if being on an Interstate highway, say driving through Atlanta, is any indication, we're addicted to speed. We want it, whatever "it" may be, and we want it NOW!

A man came to Jesus. He was a man in a hurry and, in this case, for good reason. His daughter was dying. He was in an understandable panic. He begged Jesus to rush over and heal his daughter. But Jesus didn't rush. He simply plodded along and, in the process, as the story is told, a woman came up to him and touched his robe and was healed. Well, about this time someone came and told the man to forget about bothering Jesus, his daughter had died. At that point, finally, Jesus turned to the man and told him not to worry, that his daughter would be okay.

Most of us, I dare say, would fault Jesus for his reaction, or rather, his lack of reaction. If it had been us, we would have immediately stopped what we were doing and rushed over to Jarius' house right away. But Jesus didn't; he took his own sweet time. My reading of the gospel accounts is that Jesus was a person of an unhurried life.

Then why do we hurry so? Why are we racing for that illusive checkered flag? That undefinable prize?

The National Jewish Medical and Research Center lists seven thoughts that we entertain which lead us to live NASCAR lives, lives of hurried stress:

1. making mistakes is terrible

2. it is essential to be loved by everyone

3. every problem has a perfect solution

4. if others criticize me, I must have done something wrong

5. strong people do not ask for help

6. everything is within my control

7. other people should see things the same way I do

What do all of those have in common? They compare us to someone else. When we think like that we are measuring ourselves against others.

Thoreau wrote: "Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? We are determined to be starved before we are hungry."

Hurry, our love for speed, the need to do it better, faster — these are enemies of reflection and contemplation. Every time I sit down at my computer I find myself getting frustrated with its speed, or lack thereof, actually.

For most of my life, my mother suffered from bi-polar disorder. Back then we called it Manic-depressive. She ran in two-week cycles. For two weeks she'd be depressed, rarely leaving her bed. Then, for two weeks, she'd be manic, sleeping maybe two hours a night and the rest of the time buzzing around like Atlanta drivers on I-285. And since she was flying high, she thought I should be, too. To be honest, sometimes it would wear me out. On the other hand, I have to confess that those times were a lot of fun for me as a child, too — going here and there, doing this or that.

She was a woman of great faith, too; raised an Episcopalian, and a dedicated member of First Presbyterian in Anderson. I will always remember a prayer she carried around on a 4x6 card which my father had laminated for her. The intention was for my mother to pull out that prayer and read it occasionally when she was manic. You may have heard it. Part of it goes something like this:

Slow me down, God. Ease the pounding of my heart by the quieting of my mind. Steady my hurried pace. Give me, amidst the day's confusion, the calmness of the everlasting hills. Break the tensions of my nerves and muscles with the soothing music of singing streams that live in my memory. Help me to know the magical, restoring power of sleep. Teach me the art of taking 'minute vacations'... Remind me of the fable of the hare and the tortoise; that the race is not always to the swift; that there is more to life than measuring its speed.. Let me look up at the branches of the towering oak and know that it grew slowly and well. Inspire me to send my own roots down deep into the soil of life's enduring values... that I may grow toward the stars of my greater destiny. Slow me down, God.

Walk Away

If you had asked me fifteen years ago if I was going to be a minster I would have laughed. I was in no way the kind of guy that became a minister, let alone a fellow that loved or worshipped God. I was not the worst kid either.
With years of insight that breed wisdom processed by therapy I can see now the seeds being planted in my youth for the call on my life these days.
I was baptized a Presbyterian on November 02, 1975 and dabbled in the church as much as an infant could. My folks divorced in 1981 and I split the Presbyterian Church soon after. I did not find my way back until the spring of 2002.
After a long journey filled with questions about questions framed in heartache and sorrow I arrived at the doors of First Presbyterian Church, Granada Hills. I arrived with a suitcase full of hurt and mistrust. I wanted to call bullshite on any and all that would dare talk to me.
I was soon brought in to the fold and became very active in the community. I was loved when I could not love myself. The healing process began there for me. This is when I was able to really hear my call. I first thought God was full of shite. Why would I be called to ministry? I am a cast off, heathen not fit for consumption by the dredges of society. God said, “Yes you are.” You are also one of my beloved and I love you. I also have a purpose for you.”
I became a young adult volunteer [YAV] and went to Kenya to serve with Church World Service. In Africa my faith grew. I was destroyed and mourned many nights for yesterday. I mourned for those days when I understood. The days that made sense and did not challenge the notions I held and the world I lived in was docile and bland.
God shaped my heart and the Presbyterian Church was there for me. She loved me and gave me a chance to be refined. God put us together. It was a match made in heaven.
I returned from Kenya to attend Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. Again the church was there for me. I was refined some more by the likes of Cindy Rigby, David. F. White, Stan Hall, Michael Jinkins, Kristine Saldine, Arun Jones, and many others. I served Presbyterian churches as a pastoral intern in rural Oklahoma. I attended Presbyterian churches with my friends. I love the Presbyterian Church.
I became a member of Presbymergent so that the church I loved could have a voice in the postmodern conversation happening all around her. I sought ways to be church in a new way that speaks to the hurting places of the generations emerging from the ashes of debt, war, and technology of the post denominational/post colonial age.
I fought with folks when they said denominationalism and Presbyterianism is no longer a viable path to the divine. I spent countless hours reading and digesting information on the how and what of church today as I ought to couple the past of our rich reformed history as Presbyterians. I hungered to be part of the church.
I fought through the process and distance of being under care. I made connections and formed relationships in the denomination with many amazing people. I dreamed of being part of a transforming denomination that is an essential part of communities everywhere. I got excited by the idea of a church for people not wanting to be a part of yesterdays church…I see strength in the denomination as we are steeped in a rich reformed history and carry with us creeds [BOC] and order [BOO] that allow us to bend to the culture and not break.



Alas, I walk away. I have not taken this lightly. I mourn the loss of my membership. I am almost angry. It is here that those lyrics of old sting my soul. “Fantastic the panic that showed in his eyes, he shrugged when I asked him about it, he said "young man pay heed, you listen well to what I say, now there comes a time for a man to walk away." It is surely my time to walk away.
I mourn the loss as I watch the parade leave the big tents of the Presbyterian Kingdom. I wish that the denomination could loosen its grip on the power of ordination. I am not for an abolition of all standards. I wonder what the church would look like if it opened the path to creative and called people regardless of their sexuality, politics, and aversions and looked at their call to be leaders in their communities. Leaders that charge forth to be witness of Gods glory in the coming Kin-dom. Witness to the beauty of relationships rooted in Jesus the Christ and less on the right way to seek truths of Christ.
“I’ll be determined that no one shall dissuade on my way, I’ll sure take some time to burn all the bridges that I’m leaving behind, he passed by again and he was shivering from the cold” I mourn and parts of me feel slighted and hurt as I depart. My initial feeling was to get even and take away the life I had invested in the church.
I hold no remorse for loving the church as I have. I still love her. I believe I always will. As I leave to the Disciples of Christ I leave with hope.
I hope that Christian everywhere will be in relationship together. In this I hope that Presbyterians everywhere will fight to be the church in dynamic ways that transcend traditional barriers. I leave with thanksgiving in my heart that I was formed in the belly of the beast called Presby. I am the better for it.

Palabra tu Madre.

Thanks be to God!

Sunday Devotional - Need

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2 Peter 1:3 His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.(NIV)



I’ve almost completed John Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress” for the fifth time. I love the way Bunyan mixes the stories of Christian, the pilgrim, with verses and promises from the Bible. Page after page, the book overflows with words of encouragement and caution, inspiration and instruction. At one time, it used to be required reading in some schools. Sadly, a lot of people don’t know that it even exists.

John Bunyan was imprisoned for his faith, just like the apostles Peter and Paul from the New Testament era. In his day, preachers were required to obtain a license in order to preach the Gospel. Bunyan refused to do this and so he was treated as an antagonist. He went to jail several times, but he persevered in his faith.

Pilgrim’s Progress was mostly written during his times in prison. Being unable to preach on the outside of his captivity, he wrote the book to reach the hearts and minds of people that he never met. His book influenced more lives than his itinerant preaching ever did. His prose and poetry are almost Shakespearean. What began as a project to help him get through the tedium of being in prison became a vehicle for his faith to inspire the same in others. The book has been translated into many languages and it still touches the hearts and souls of thousands of Christians throughout the world today.

In today’s scripture passage, Peter emphasizes that God secures all that we need for life and promises an enrichment of godly knowledge, both of which enriches our hearts and souls. It reminded me of Bunyan because he lived a simple life, devoted to God and enhanced by faith.

In our rush to succeed and to obtain all that we Westerners can, we sometimes forget that life is for living and giving, not for getting and collecting. Perhaps if we enjoyed the simpler things of life, we would discover a brand of happiness, health, and hope that would completely satisfy our hearts and souls.

There’s an old chorus that perfectly sums up these thoughts:“He is all I need, He is all I need; Jesus is all I need. He is all I need, He is all I need; Jesus is all that I need.”

Prayer: Lord Jesus, we complicate our lives by surrounding ourselves with many possessions that end up possessing us. Help us to let go of the things we have, and to let God have a hold on us. Grant us the discernment and wisdom to dedicate our ways to You alone. You are all that we need. In Your Holy Name, we pray. Amen.


Stushie writes the weekday devotional "Heaven's Highway" and also the Sunday prayers blog "Aaron's Beard." He also draws daily political cartoons at "Pushing the Envelope."