Smooth Operator

I’m not sure if the news is big nation-wide, but Priscilla Slade’s trial here in Houston is certainly a hot topic these days. She is the former president of Texas Southern University and is being tried on “two counts of misapplication of fiduciary property of more than $200,000.” Prosecutors allege that she used more than $500,000 of the public university’s funds for personal expenses, including a bar tab over $140,000.

Allegedly, Dr. Slade entertained staff and friends on TSU’s dime, throwing extravagant parties in her 17,000 square foot home that featured, among other things, a sofa paid for out of university funds and worth more than my two cars put together. There is more: manicures for the staff, extravagant trips, center court seats for Houston Rockets games. All purchased with money that came from the Texas taxpayers’ pockets.

The details about her “mis-expenditures” are readily available on the web and in the news, but the highlights alone are enough to cause some serious head-scratching. A public university president is a fiduciary for the state’s money – meaning basically that we trusted her to handle it well. Just how did this happen? And what was she thinking? Dr. Slade is a trained CPA, did she really think her gross abuse of public money would not come to light eventually?

Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. Or maybe she picked up her methods from the Bible.

Take a good look at one of the hardest parables Jesus ever told and you’ll see what I mean. In Luke 16.1-13 we read the story about a mid-level manager who knew the boss’s axe was going to be swinging at his feet soon. So he invited in all the people who owed his boss and cut their debts substantially. Misapplication of fiduciary property, I think it was. Cut a few hundred gallons of olive oil here, a few hundred bushels of wheat there. He was thinking if he cut the debts of those who owed his master that when he got fired, those people would take care of him. Pretty crafty.

And Jesus praises this dishonesty, as does the manager’s boss. It makes no sense to me. What can Jesus be thinking? I’m not saying Dr. Slade deserves praise, in fact I’m angry at her. But the fact that Jesus tells the story tells me that the children of light should probably borrow some methods from the culture, as well as be willing to take some initiative and dramatic action for the sake of the Kingdom.

Luke 16.1-14
The Parable of the Shrewd Manager
1Jesus told his disciples: "There was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions. 2So he called him in and asked him, 'What is this I hear about you? Give an account of your management, because you cannot be manager any longer.'
3"The manager said to himself, 'What shall I do now? My master is taking away my job. I'm not strong enough to dig, and I'm ashamed to beg— 4I know what I'll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.'
5"So he called in each one of his master's debtors. He asked the first, 'How much do you owe my master?'
6" 'Eight hundred gallons of olive oil,' he replied. "The manager told him, 'Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it four hundred.'
7"Then he asked the second, 'And how much do you owe?' " 'A thousand bushels of wheat,' he replied. "He told him, 'Take your bill and make it eight hundred.'
8"The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. 9I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.
10"Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. 11So if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with true riches? 12And if you have not been trustworthy with someone else's property, who will give you property of your own?
13"No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money."
14The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all this and were sneering at Jesus. 15He said to them, "You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of men, but God knows your hearts. What is highly valued among men is detestable in God's sight.

At Second Sight

Not a Sermon - Just a Thought for 9.28.07
On Friday mornings I usually give you some type of illustrative “just a thought” to get you thinking about the sermon for the coming Sunday. Today, I want to challenge you to think more deeply with me than usual. Hang with me – deep thought may hurt on a Friday but it will give you a new way of thinking about life, faith, and the things that matters most to you.

Take a sip of coffee and read on.

Paul Ricoeur was a French philosopher who combined high-brow philosophy with hermeneutics - a fancy word for “how we interpret meaning from things.” His lifetime of teaching and writing helped a lot of preachers understand how to interpret things to their congregations, especially the Bible. One of his greatest concepts is how we come to accept or reject ideas. If you over simplify his concept, it works like this (advance apologies, Dr. Ricoeur):

1. When we encounter a new thing or idea, we are naïve about it and must work to understand it. Makes sense, ay?
2. Then we think about the idea, we test it against what we already know, against history, science, and so forth. Still making sense?
3. Finally we come to appropriate the idea for ourselves and something happens at the end of that – we come to hold the thing or idea not based on factuality but on its very existence. That state is what Ricoeur calls “second naïveté,” meaning that we accept an idea because it just is.

I thought of “second naïveté” in preparing for this week’s sermon about the tenth leper who returned to thank Jesus for being healed. You’ll find the story starting in Luke 17. 11-19 (copied below). It is a story of healing but, more importantly, it’s a story about seeing. The first sighting in this story is done by Jesus. He sees the lepers – really sees them – and gives them instruction to go to the priests.

Then the second “seeing” occurs: “… and as they went, they were cleansed. One of them, when he saw that he was healed, came back, praising God…”

It’s a story about Jesus seeing the human condition of the lepers and the one leper truly seeing his condition as a healed man and returning to give thanks. I imagine that the leper went through all three of Ricoeur’s stages of appropriation of the idea healing and came back with excitement and gratitude because his healing didn’t need to be proven by history or science or fact. In his mind, the healing just was. The existence of healing was all that mattered and reveling in the fact fashioned him into a remnant of “thanks.”

Oh that we would be that thankful remnant, too.

We have all been “seen” by our God in our human condition. We have also “seen” all that God has done for us. But for “seasoned” Christians it is possible to lose sight of the grace and restoration that has changed us and we do well to go back to that place of “second naïveté” and take a second look at how much we’ve received. That’s where the seed of gratefulness in all of life is planted, tended, and blossoming.

I’ll be preaching a sermon called At Second Sight this Sunday at 9:00 a.m. worship gathering called Jubliate! We’ll gather also at 11:10 a.m. for Overflow where we’ll be wrapping up the sermon series Desperate Sex Lives by talking about marriage and forgiveness. If you’re in Houston this weekend, I hope you’ll join us.

Grace and Peace,
The Tenth Leper Leaping

Not a Sermon – Just a Thought is a weekly column written by me, Gary Long. I’m the pastor of Willow Meadows Baptist Church in Houston, Texas. You can find former editions of this column at http://www.thefellowship.info/resources/for_you/notasermon.icm, that’s the website for the good folk at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship.

Luke 17.11-19

11Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. 12As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance 13and called out in a loud voice, "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!"
14When he saw them, he said, "Go, show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were cleansed.
15One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16He threw himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.
17Jesus asked, "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" 19Then he said to him, "Rise and go; your faith has made you well."

The Best Spanish Words

I feel like I should tell you the outcome of an earlier post entitled Lo siento. I followed through on the offering of an apology. And I'm glad I did it.

My wife helped me cobble together a few words of Spanish that I hoped, along with a forlorn look, would convey to some of our subcontractors my heartfelt regrets for blowing my cool last week.

I had been going to the house once or twice a day to check on progress, usually early in the morning on on my lunch break. But after my blow up I didn't go to the new house for two full days while the workers were there because I dreaded seeing those guys. I felt like a third grader on the school bus taking home an "F" on a spelling test. When finally I could put it off no longer, I went to the house and sought them out one by one.

My tongue tangled as I offered the Spanish apology, and my hands were hot with shame as I offered it out for a handshake. All three of the men shook my hand and smiled. One said, "De nada."

I found the last one quietly sanding the base board on the stair well. After my "speech" he said in broken English something to the effect of, "No problem, it happen to all person."

Latching on to his response, I tried to explain that I was tired, I was stressed, and so forth. He smiled and nodded like he understood, but he didn't. It was all lost in translation, but not from English to Spanish. It was lost in the translation from one economic strata to another. It was lost in the translation from my stress about a the color of my floor to his stress about making ends meet. It was lost in translation because there was no real reason for me to behave like a horse's ass.

I knew it was lost in translation so I gave up, and went back to the phrase I'd learned. Lo siento. I am to blame. Mea culpa.

He shrugged and went back to what he knew. "De nada." His eyes and slight smile told me that he got the message, so I quit.

The taste of grace and regret mixed in my mouth on the way home, oddly enough like new paint and the dust of wood being sanded. The words "de nada" are all at once bitter and sweet and they are the best Spanish words I know.

Start Me Up

The day we are born, argues Rob Bell*, we newborns cry because we sense that we are disconnected. We travel through life and discover that we are disconnected in a thousand ways from each other, from God, from ourselves, and from our world.

Is it possible then, that there is a spiritual side of our sexuality that is about reconnecting with our humanity and the humanity of others? Is it possible that the temptation to sex outside of the covenant context is really about our deep spiritual hunger not to be lonely, not to be isolated, not to be disconnected?

If I’m right then it’s easy to see why sex sells so well. It is physically gratifying and has the potential – in the right context – of being spiritually sating. It’s also easy to see why we struggle with addiction to sex and its commercial substitutes like pornography, prostitution, and strip clubs. Ultimately, sexual temptation is the temptation to trade God for a God-substitute. The illusion of intimacy is at once convincing and appealing in a disparate existence.

The haunting Kris Kristofferson tune Help Me Make It Through the Night sums up the longing for connection that I’m talking about:

Take the ribbon from your hair,
Shake it loose and let it fall,
Layin' soft upon my skin.
Like the shadows on the wall.
Come and lay down by my side till the early morning light
All I'm takin' is your time.
Help me make it through the night.
I don't care what's right or wrong,
I wont try to understand.
Let the devil take tomorrow.
Lord, tonight I need a friend.
Yesterday is dead and gone and tomorrow's out of sight.
And it's sad to be alone.
Help me make it through the night.

The challenge for Christians, if we’re honest, is that we want something we can see, taste, or feel and God’s presence in our lives doesn’t always provide that in the way we’d like. Sexual temptation is all around us and to deny we struggle with this is one of the best ways to give such temptation power.

So if you’re in Houston this weekend, join us on Sunday at 11:10 am for worship. I’ll be preaching a sermon entitled Start Me Up and I’ll toss out some ideas for how you and I can deal with our all-too-human sexual temptations. It’s part of a four part series called Desperate Sex Lives and will continue through the end of September.

Directions to my church can be found in the link on the sidebar.

Tempted like you,
Pastor Gary

*Rob Bell is the author of Sex God – Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality and Spirituality. The idea I mention is found in chapter 2, “Sexy on the Inside.”

Lo siento

If you don't want to see the human side of a pastor, stop reading now.

Ok, you've been warned.

So I finished prepping the concrete floors for stain about 2am on Wednesday morning. If you've been keeping up, you'll remember that I was set back on the project because I injured my thumb on Monday and couldn't work with the concrete grinder very well.

On Wednesday at 8am I walked through the house with one of the subcontractors, pointing out to him the freshly prepped areas and stressing the importance of keeing them clean and free of paint, sheetrock mud, debris, and so forth. Apparently some things were lost in translation with my Spanish-speaking friend.

I worked at the church all day Monday and checked in on the house about 5pm. A quick walk-through revealed that the shower pan in the master bath was installed and that tile work was proceeding well. It also revealed that the carefully prepped floor in the master bath had not been so carefully treated - sheetrock mud was splattered everywhere in the room.

And I lost it.

I literally came unglued in an old-style red-neck hissy-fit that would've made the dysfunctional side of my family proud. I did a quick check and could count on one hand all the times I've lost it like this in my entire life. I just don't normally blow it like this.

I cursed. I yelled. I chewed out every worker in the house. Fortunately, none of them spoke enough English to really get what I was saying. They basically got this message: patron es loco.

I was so angry I even through one of my very best UNC hats on the floor. If you know me personally, that should be your biggest sign that there was a huge vergence in the force. Then I stormed out.

I'm going to learn from this, I know it.

First, I know that, in the words of Rob Bell, "This is really about that." "This" was not really about the mess. The mess could be cleaned up easily in a half hour or less. No one had committed an injustice against me, no one was sabatoging me, no one was trying to cause me more work intentionally. I was really angry about the whole process, the delays, the fact that we're in a rental house and have to move twice, and that I can't deliver a sleep-over party promised to the Brother who turns 10 today.

"This" was about "that" and the presenting issue was only a symptom, not the cause.

Second, I know that I have to apologize, probably in Spanish, to the people I blew it with yesterday. I'm dreading it. I woke up this morning nauseated by my memory of the blow up, literally sick to my stomach with remorse and contrition.

As readily as I can own my failure to myself (and ironically on a blog to God-knows-whoever-reader-you-are), I'm having trouble with the fact that I have to go to real people and say I'm sorry. A real apology has to be offered to real people, and I'm saddened at me because I'm discovering that deep down I have a dangerous hubris. I know that a reluctant apology is not truly an apology, so I'm praying that I get my heart behind my practical theology on this one.

Maybe you could pray, if you do such things, that I would do the right thing with the right motivation.

Sweet Dreams and Concrete Machines in Pieces All Around

I've not been posting much lately because the Longs are moving to a new house. We've nearly finished remodeling a large old home in Southwest Houston, but we sold our old house and had to be out the day after Labor Day. Alas, a double-move.

I've done a few small parts of the renovation myself and I'm about to tackle the flooring. Flooring is one of the last things to be done and I'm resurfacing some of the concrete floors in preparation for staining them. So I rented a couple of big concrete grinders, the heaviest of which landed on my right thumb while loading it up yesterday. It made my flesh "flap" and dripped blood steady for the better part of two hours.

Needless to say it still hurts and I didn't get finished with the floors. Hopefully I'll finish tonight!

Thanks for continuing to read this blog. Please be patient, I'll be back in full swing soon.

Reversing Course When You’re Wrong.

Eric Brinker had to reverse course on a major issue last year – snack mix.

He is the director of brand management and customer experience for Jet Blue airline. He had switched the usual snack, Munchie Mix, to a healthier alternative in response to the request of some passengers. Little did he know he would incite a near riot.

Customers complained vociferously, writing things like, “[Munchie Mix] is the only reason I flew Jet Blue!”

So he back-tracked with a “Save the Munchie Mix” campaign that read, “Some pinhead in marketing tried to get rid of the Munchie Mix.”**

Brinker is not the first corporate guy to lead a change that later necessitated a reversal. Remember “New Coke?” Or “Pepsi Clear?”

The granddaddy of product flops was the Edsel. Never heard of the Edsel?

The Edsel was rolled out by Ford as a mid-priced luxury car. For weeks before it hit the market on September 4, 1957, Ford promoted “E-Day” in newspapers, magazines, and all three television channels nationwide. Folk stormed dealerships on E-Day, but rolled right back out as soon as they saw the Edsel.

The reasons for rejection were many. For example, the push buttons for the automatic transmission were placed right in the center of the steering wheel – right where’d you reach to blow the horn. Some said it looked like “a Mercury sucking a lemon.” What’s worse, a lot of the cars were delivered with a list of missing parts taped to the steering wheel. Mix in an economy that was fading into recession and the fact that the Edsel was made for richer times and you can predict what happened even if you weren’t alive then.

Within three years the Edsel limped into the scrap yard on the two wheels of bad design and bad timing.

Bad timing and designs aren’t limited to the business world. Just ask the prophet Jeremiah. He had a front row seat for one of the great “Edsel” moments of Israel’s history. Idolatry and apostasy had diverted Israel away from Yahweh, the covenant, and the law. The people didn’t see that their hopes, ambitions, and dreams had been completely misplaced as they’d whored out their trust in God to other gods “who are not even gods.” Jeremiah urged them to turn back to the ways they knew before it was too late, before their failure became epic in scale.

What are the “Edsel’s” of our own lives? What are the dramatic or not-so-dramatic failues you need to reverse course on and put in the past? I hope you can find ways to lean from your “Edsel’s" and have the courage to make the necessary changes.

This piece was based on Jeremiah 2.4-13.

The "F" Word

The F Word

Amy Biehl would have been forty years old at the end of August. In the early 1990’s she was a student of Stanford University doing Fulbright Scholar work at University of Western Cape Town in South Africa, and as an anti-apartheid activist she met an untimely and grisly death. On August 25, 1993, a mob of angry blacks pelted her car with rocks, someone hit her in the head with a brick and dragged her from the car. She was beaten and stoned and stabbed to death by her attackers as they hurled racial slurs at her.

Her death was common in those dark ages of apartheid, but this story has an incredibly uncommon ending. You see, four men were convicted and condemned to life in prison for their crime. But remarkably, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission recommended their pardon after serving only five years. Even more astounding is that Amy’s parents supported the pardon. Peter, her father, took the stand as a witness at the hearing and said this:

“The most important vehicle of reconciliation is open and honest dialogue...we are here to reconcile a human life which was taken without an opportunity for dialogue. When we are finished with this process we must move forward with linked arms. ”

The courts granted the pardon for all four men. The story doesn’t end there.

Two of the four men are now working for the Amy Biehl Foundation. Easy Nofemela and Ntobeko Peni have dedicated their lives to the work of the foundation – to prevent violence among youth in South Africa. Linda, Amy’s mother, says,

“I have come to believe passionately in restorative justice. It’s what Desmond Tutu calls u-buntu: to choose to forgive rather than demand retribution, a belief that ‘my humanity is inextricably caught up in yours’…I can’t look at myself as a victim – it diminishes me as a person. And Easy and Ntobeko don’t see themselves as killers. They didn’t set out to kill Amy Biehl. But Easy has told me that it’s one thing to reconcile what happened as a political activist, quite another to reconcile it in your heart.”

This is the same hard truth that Jesus taught about forgiveness. He hinted at the wideness of God’s mercy for humans when he said we should be generous in forgiving one another “seven times seventy.” He illustrated uncommon determination to forgive rather than demand retribution when he stood silently before his accusers and later died an innocent death. And in the story of Peter – the disciple who thrice denied Jesus only to be later forgiven and restored – we marvel at how the gospel of grace forever changes the course of a life.

The amazing power of the gospel of grace lies in this one truth: That the reconciliation of all three of these men – Easy, Ntobeko, and Peter – led to them change from within and become champions for the vision of the one they’d betrayed.

So what about you and me? Do we champion the cause of the Christ who has forgiven us much? Are we as quick to forgive others as we should be? Do we see how failing to forgive others diminishes us as a person? And having been reconciled with another, how do we then “move forward with linked arms?”

I think we need to "Drop the F bomb" more often.

The Ever Emergent Church

Some people talk about the movement called “Emergent Church” but I am growing to resent that title a bit. You see, in my way of thinking, the church has always been emergent, being reborn and reshaped to work in the culture thrust upon it since 2000 years ago when Jesus said to Peter, “Upon this rock.”

Emergent means that it is unfolding, being unveiled a little at the time – and that seems to be God’s secret formula. And the real secret in the secret formula is that nobody knows the full story. Only God. Even Jesus said he didn’t know the details about how the kingdom of heaven would finally come about.

What’s true is that we live in between times, and that in between these times the light is shed slowly on the path before us. I'll be "emergent pastor" for a moment and tell a story about what I mean.

Growing up in southeastern North Carolina, I lived across a cornfield from my cousin, Brian. One night I was sent by my father to Brian's house on an errand. I was walking the corn field on a new moon in November with a kerosene lantern (yes, I really had a lantern for camping, and besides, what 10 year old boy doesn't like to play with fire and fuel?).

It was a completely dark night, the clouds snuffing out all the stars. For you city folk who have never seen full darkness, you need to know that a cloudy night on a new moon is so dark that you can't see your hand in front of your face. Friends, it's so dark you couldn't scratch your...ok, that's a little too genuine for this blog. The point is that was terrifyingly dark.

That walk was scary, I tell you. There was no beam of a flash light to shine way out ahead, only the radiant glow of the lantern that would iluminate about four feet in front of me and that was all. Slowly the path opened up for me, but only as I moved forward. I imagine today what I looked like that night from my cousin's porch, a soft circle of emergent light, slow and steady moving forward to light my little corn field world.

That seems to me to be the way the church moves through time. A journey that is in some generations sometimes plodding and plotting; in other generations it is erratic and radical reform. Nadirs and wagon ruts, she still moves forward, emerging, emergent. There has never been a time when the church wasn't "emergent."

So, to my friends and colleagues who are on the razor sharp front of "where" the church is headed next, please redefine things carefully and choose your terms and labels with equal caution. The church as "emergent" is not new, she is doing as she always has.

All that Junk in my Trunk

I have to rant. I seldom do this, so grant me this one moment.

I publicly criticize stores like Lifeway because they market so many Christian trinkets. I thought/hoped that some of the postmodern/emergent Christians might be feeling the same way, sick and tired of the crap that marketers try to pawn off on us in the name of Jesus.

Check that ideal at the door, though. I just leafed through the latest issue of Relevant magazine, a publication I’ve enjoyed in times past. Maybe the magazine has always been like this, but for some reason this week it really struck me how commercial and “hip” the Christian faith is presented on those glossy full-bleed pages.

The issue is more ads than content and the content that’s there is poor. Most of the writing is so overwrought as to be exhausting and the 20-something expression of Christianity on the pieces seems a lot of fluff, not to mention more than a little pretentious – and a little bit of that goes a long way. Even the interview with Anne Lamott was disappointing (sorry, Anne, love your books – love it, love it, love it – but you came off flip and scattered).

And then there are the products being advertised. The message on the products is anti-consumerism, pro-orphans, live like Jesus, and so forth. All good ideas, but still I’m being asked to buy CD’s, t-shirts, attend music festivals, and buy Christian-designed art and blue jeans. The product and advertising contradict the message. Someone is profiting from competing interests and the suffering of orphans ought not be putting funds in somebody’s pocket.

I believe in Christianity being relevant. Connecting Christ to culture is good. Helping Christians see Christ in culture is great. No problem there at all, but it seems to me that Relevant has missed the point that relevance is not a tool, a raison d’etre, or a goal. Sorry to the gang at Relevant, I don’t see any difference between you and your publishing predecessors from modernity.

In all fairness to the gang there, there may not be a postmodern philosophy in your goal to be relevant, so I tread carefully in my waters of assumption. Plainly, there is no deconstruction of faith, just a slick new way of pushing the same products as those who brought us CCM and all that Jesus junk.

Whatcha gonna do with all that junk, all that junk down in my trunk?

See, I’m relevant.

The batter swings and the summer flies

– from the pop song The Riddle

Sports enthusiasts are mourning the tragic deaths of two coaches. Thirty-five year old Mike Coolbaugh died after being struck in the neck by a foul ball while coaching first base for the Tulsa Driller’s, a minor league baseball team. Skip Prosser, the 56 year old head coach of the Wake Forest University men’s basketball team died in his office yesterday, apparently of a heart attack.

I don’t want to offer commentary on the safety of baseball or the stress of a division I NCAA coaching job. Plenty of pundits will do that. Today I am simply reflecting on things in light of my faith.

First, both of these guys were doing something they loved. Coolbaugh floated around the minors for a decade and only played 37 games in the “big show” of Major League Baseball. When he died he was a hitting coach for a minor league team in Oklahoma, and while I’m no expert on coaches’ paychecks, I have a sneaking suspicion that he was not in the same pay grade as Barry Bonds and the boys. Yet there he was, his last day of life on earth – doing what he loved. The same is true for Skip Prosser, he died doing what he loved.

Second, we know what they loved doing. We are clear on their priorities in life. One of Prosser’s players was quoted saying, “It's tough for me right now. I can't explain it. Here today, gone tomorrow. The one thing about Coach Prosser is that he cared about his players — and would do anything for us." Similar quotes abound for Coolbaugh. These guys loved the game and saw coaching as a way of pouring themselves into others’ lives.

Third, we know that time that matters is in short supply. It’s an unpleasant reality, but death is inevitable. How will I prioritize and spend my one and only life?

It reminds me of the story about the rich young man who came to Jesus asking, “What good thing must I do to inherit eternal life?” Stay with me and you’ll see why.

A conversation ensued about following the commandments wherein the young man claimed he kept all the important ones. So then Jesus said he should go and sell all his possessions and give to the poor, and then spend his time following Jesus. You might guess that the young man walked away saddened because he didn’t want to give up his great wealth.

Some interpret this as a story about money and possessions. I read it beside these coaches’ deaths as a story about priorities. Jesus was asking the rich young ruler to make following him the top priority in his life – beyond his wealth and beyond the commandments of Judaism.

First

Numero uno

The “main thing”

I don’t know if Prosser or Coolbaugh were men of faith but I do know what their priorities were. The haunting question for this pilgrim is, “If I died today, would people know clearly what my life priorities were?” Will they know that I tried hard to follow Jesus, love my family, and serve the world?

Sudden deaths, as well as encounters with Jesus can:

• bring our priorities into focus,
• help us admit that we do have a list of priorities, and
• confess that sometimes those priorities get out of whack.
  

We’ll talk more about life priorities by looking at this rich young ruler in worship on Sunday at Willow Meadows Baptist Church. If you are in town please make worship attendance a priority in your life and join us at 9am or 11:10am.

See you Sunday,
Pastor Gary

Not a Sermon – Just a Thought is a weekly email from me, Gary Long. I’m the pastor at Willow Meadows Baptist Church, on the web at www.wmbc.org.


Matthew 19.16-30 New International Version

The Rich Young Man
16Now a man came up to Jesus and asked, "Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?"

17"Why do you ask me about what is good?" Jesus replied. "There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, obey the commandments."

18"Which ones?" the man inquired.

Jesus replied, " 'Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, 19honor your father and mother,'[d] and 'love your neighbor as yourself.'[e]"

20"All these I have kept," the young man said. "What do I still lack?"

21Jesus answered, "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

22When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth.

23Then Jesus said to his disciples, "I tell you the truth, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. 24Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."

25When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and asked, "Who then can be saved?"

26Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

27Peter answered him, "We have left everything to follow you! What then will there be for us?"

28Jesus said to them, "I tell you the truth, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. 29And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother[f] or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. 30But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first.

The Best Day of My Whole Life

At Ocean Isle Beach, NC the week of July 4th my father and I rolled out his old fishing boat. It's about 13 feet long and has been in the family since I was a teenager. That makes it, ummm, something more than 20 years old.

It has a smoking motor, a crack in the inside hull lining, and a plywood motor-mount. She's a good little craft with "men" and "ladies" stickers on either side of the stern, but honestly she's seen better days.

But with The Younger Sister and the Brother on board, you would have thought we were on the QE II. They loved the boat ride down the intracosatal waterway and they didn't even notice the big luxury fishing and ski boats flying by and leaving us bobbing in their wake.

Kids are that way.

They don't seem concerned with the things upon which we grown ups fixate. A simple boat, a beautiful sunny day, people you love, and the salt and sand there for the enjoyment. It was all about the thrill of being on the water with their dad and their "pa" and the possibility of catching fish for dinner.

It was in the midst of learning how to cast her rod that the Younger Sister taught me a thing or two about life. She looked up at me with those big browns and said, "Dad, this is the best day of my whole life."

We didn't catch any fish big enough for dinner, but I got the message from God. For one moment in time I was without doubt that I have netted the best catch in life in that one moment, brilliant and shining and radiant.

I believe and pray that all three of my kids will have more "best day of my whole life" type days, but I sure hope the Youngest Sister always remembers this one. I know I will.

Preaching Gig

I'm preaching at a cool church on Sunday night. My church will worship with City of Refuge, pastored by my friend Rev. Rufus Smith. Hope you'll investigate this innovative multi-cultural church at www.cityofrefuge.org. We'll gather at 6pm, if you're in Houston, please join us!

You Say It Yahweh, I'll Say it Mine

I'm stunned. I just got the news that Doug Marlette, the creator of Kudzu was killed in a car wreck yesterday while on his way to help out with a high school production of a musical based on his cartoon strip.

Marlette's cartoons were brilliant. They were warm with humor and affection for human life and they were seasoned with his genious satire. The affable "Reverend Will B. Dunn" tried his best to show us the higher road, but didn't always pull it off too well - an accurate depiction of the church.

I've been a fan of the cartoon for ages, and about two years ago my dad gave me an autographed copy of his novel The Bridge. That novel meant a great deal to me, not just because it was a gift from my dad, but because I identified deeply with the character's chase for family history. I particularly liked the way Marlette painted the South in his cartoons and his books. It was pointed and sometimes painful, but it was also true and beautiful at the same time.

My favorite strip was a Sunday edition where Rev. Will B. Dunn (allegedly based on Will Campbell and James Dunn) was preaching and naming the names of God according to the great theologians:

Mysterium Tremendum
"Unmoved Mover"
"Ground of all Being"

and then his closing line, "But you say it Yahweh, and I'll say it mine."

May God rest your satirical soul, Doug. You said it your way.

The Poison is Working

My friend Tommy says that coming back to work after a good vacation is like taking a poison back into your body. Your body fights it, but it's too strong - eventually you succumb and the poison takes over until you're numb and go mindless back to the work at hand.

Today, the poison is working. Back to the grind.

Everybody's Got a Hungry Heart

Written July 4, 2007

I was alone watching the charcoal burn down enough to grill the steaks here on vacation last night. I watched a kid of probably 13 or 14 ride his bike around the circle of beach houses something like 12 times in a 6 minute period. He scanned all the houses, watching the various people and he looked lonesome. What was he looking for? Company? Friendship? Someone to ride along? Someone to stop and talk to?

I've seen the same kid several times already this week doing the same thing. Lonesome and restless he was looking for someone to hang out with, something new, something exciting, so he pedaled on. Everybody’s like that in some way, especially the restless ones – always looking for the next thing, the next friendship, the next thing to conquer, the next possession to obtain.

There’s little contentedness in life for a restless person, and this kid’s got it bad. Riding that bike around the circle of beach houses, he looked like some adults I’ve seen going around the big circle. Always pedaling harder and harder – if they just go around the circle one more time they’ll find something new, something exciting, something to satisfy that hungry heart.

Only thing is, kid, that’s an illusion. What little satisfaction for the hungry heart exists is elusive, so you just keep riding around the circle until you realize it’s not on this block. So you move on to the next circle of little houses. And when you conquer that one you realize there’s no satisfaction there, so you move on to the next one. You find bigger circles to pedal around madly until, if you're lucky, you realize that no loop is going to satisfy the hunger.

You might expect the preacher to talk about the satisfaction that God brings. You might expect me to talk about the “peace that surpasses all understanding.” You might expect me to quote Augustine with, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.”

But not today. Today I’m content to sing along with Bruce and just be a hungry heart with that kid.

Lay down your money and you play your part, everybody’s got a hungry heart.

This past Sunday at Willow Meadows Baptist Church we had a great preacher, Brent Walker, from the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty (BJC). If you were there, you know how well Brent helped us see the tensions of piety and patriotism in America today as well as the importance of religious liberty.

I have long believed that religious liberty is the first and greatest freedom we Americans have and because of that belief, I have been a long time supporter of the Baptist Joint Committee – an organization that works hard on behalf of Baptists around the world to defend and preserve our religious freedoms.

So here is the request: Please make a pledge to the BJC this week.

Here’s why it’s important to do it this week. On Friday, June 29, Babs Baugh of Texas announced a $500,000 gift to the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty. Why? To help build a Center for Religious Liberty in Washington, D. C., a critical project launched by the BJC. Then, Babs announced another piece of stellar news: The Baugh Family will match every dollar pledged or given to the BJC for the Center by July 15.

Today is July 10. You and I have only 5 days to double our money for religious liberty! A simple twenty five dollars becomes fifty, and a million dollars pledged becomes two million!

The cause is not just for Baptists – it is for anyone who believes that religious liberty is precious and would like to see it preserved. You who know me and my preaching know that I seldom ask for money unless I think it’s important. This cause is definitely important. Do it for your children and grandchildren so that may also worship freely in this great nation.

Contact Brent Walker today, and give him your pledge amount. His phone number is 202.544.4226. His email is bwalker@bjconline.org. You can also contact me, if you have any questions or would feel more comfortable in discussing the matter with me personally at glong@wmbc.org or 713723-2870.

Ahhh, the salt breeze

The Longs have just finished up a week of travel from Houston to Atlanta to Southern Virginia to Northern Virginia to Washington, DC to Ocean Isle Beach, NC. We've visited two church families we've served before WMBC and I attended the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship annual gathering.

Lot's has happened, so I'll be posting much in the next week. For now we are all glad to just "be" on vacation.

Tomorrow is my first shabbot in a long while, so I'm planning to worship in the Big Room with the sand between my toes while the surf teases and "ebbs" me on. I come to the sea needy in my soul and empty in my imaginative resevoirs. Thus, Psalm 69:

33 The LORD hears the needy
and does not despise his captive people.

34 Let heaven and earth praise him,
the seas and all that move in them.

See you around the dunes.

Get Home Soon, Daddy

It's Father's Day this weekend, a time to celebrate dads and their dadliness. For some it's not so great - either dad was absent or dead or worse. For this dad it is a time to realize how much I need to improve in my dad-hood, and frankly it seems to be getting harder and harder each year.

I found this poem in an old email, I think my friend Marvin Hines sent it to me. I wanted to use it for a meditation in the worship guide this Sunday but our worship pastor ixnayed it. She thought it was a little too depressing. I find it convicting and compelling. Hopeful, in a weird way.

By Reid Bush, from What You Know. Sorry, Reid, I didn't get permission to publish this, but maybe it'll a) Help a dad to wake up or b) Help you sell a book.

Where are MenWhen they're Not at Home?

Different places.

Some are out at the barn checking on the mare that's about to foal. I know, not many now. A few.

Some are running down to the corner store to pick up something they forgot. Be right back.

Some are in offices practicing pitches. Spiels.

Some are phoning from offices—saying they'll be late.

Of course, many are dead. You suddenly think about them because you're back where you haven't been in 20 yearsand go to look them up.
But they're not there.
Just some widows.

But most are way off somewhere searching for fathers who were never home enough.

Who's the Prodigal?

Not a Sermon - Just a Thought

When the Rolling Stones recorded Prodigal Son in 1969, the tune and lyrics were already at least 39 years old. And when Robert Wilkins – blues singer cum preacher – wrote that same song as That’s No Way to Get Along in 1928, the story line of the human condition was already at least two thousand years old.

Jesus told the story of a son who got his piece of the inheritance early and squandered it, only to return home to find his father waiting to restore him fully into the family. We resonate with this well-worn story because it resonates with our experience. It’s all there: teenage rebellion, alienation from family, experimenting with different lifestyles, the fallout of reckless living, the fond recollection of home, the self-awareness of adulthood, and the joy of homecoming. The Prodigal Son is a beloved parable and it is truly timeless.

But the name is all wrong!

Check me on this, but I can’t find the word “prodigal” anywhere in the Bible! Now I’m no etymologist, but if I’ve got the word right, it means “extravagant or lavish” more than it means “wasteful.” So if we’re going to call anyone in this story a “prodigal,” shouldn't it be the father who dons that title? The father’s kiss was a sign of reconciliation, the new shoes as a sign of freedom, and the ring a sign of authority. The father’s feast was a sign of joy, the best robe a sign of honor. It was the father who played the prodigal.

This Sunday is Father’s Day, a good chance for us to remember this story and look for some practical ways we can “prodigally” love our children. I’ve thought of at least five ways to do that, can you come up with some of your own? I’ll share them with you as we wrap up our series Wireless Families – Doing Family God’s Way in a World that Pulls Us Apart. The sermon is entitled Wireless Prodigals and is based on Luke 15-11-32.

With Extravagance,
Pastor Gary

Not a Sermon – Just a Thought is a weekly e-column I produce for my church family and others who are interested. I’m the pastor at Willow Meadows Baptist Church in Houston, Texas. You can learn more about the church at http://www.wmbc.org/. You can subscribe to recieve this email directly at glong@wmbc.org.