PHS Class of 1965's 50th (Pasadena, Texas)

Several years ago I wrote a blog entry about my experience with my High School Reunions. In that blog I spoke about how I felt neglected because I never seemed to get an invitation; about my anxiety that no one would remember me or even want to include me in discussions; how that after 25 years I finally face my concerns and fears and decided that I was going . . . appreciated or not.

So, Susan and I paid the registration fee and went. I have to confess had I not already paid the registration fee I might have at the last minute backed out of going. But I didn’t and we went.  Much to my surprise it was a pleasant weekend. Oh, to be sure, many of the people there that year seemed to have been keeping in touch with each other ever since graduation. At my table we were all first timers at a reunion and vaguely even knew each other in High School. However, after a few moments we were engaged in a lively discussion. We played a little game of lets name whose going to hang out with whom.

25th. Reunion Group Photo

I remember that year for another reason. Seems that word came that someone on the way to the reunion was in a bad car accident and the reunion leadership knowing I was the only pastor there called on me to pray for the folks in the accident. So I guess you could say I was one of the program personalities.

I also remember there was a class member who had discovered the bar a little early and by the time the actual program started was pretty much “three sheets to the wind.”  Susan kept asking who she was because she kept finding her way back to our table and repeating the same thick-tongued story. Do I know she was? Yes! Am I telling? No! Have I ever said who it was? Yes but only to my wife. People’s dignity, especially old friends, must be protected even if it is from themselves.

The other thing about the reunion that has stuck with me was the fellow who was there and had apparently recently lost his job.  He too had found that bar early on and indulged freely.  What I recall is that he followed me all over the lobby area asking about a job. I had none to offer and didn’t know anyone hiring and told him so. He still hung in there persisting with his need for a job. I thought to myself, “I’ll just duck in the restroom and maybe he’ll latch onto someone else . . . maybe someone who could help him.”  But no fate wouldn't have any of it. He followed me right into the restroom . . . right up to the stall and just kept inquiring about a job.  He too shall remain anonymous.

All that aside, I had a wonderful time at the reunion. Reconnected with a few High School buddies, shared a million stories (stories that the retelling was better than when they really happened. Came away feeling that nothing much had changed. Most of us were still pretty much the same self-absorbed, wanting to impress people we barely knew with our successes and generally superficially friendly.

Now fast forward 20 years and it is the 45th PHSClass of 1965 reunion.  Now understand there were

45th. Reunion Group Photo

a few between these two but these are the two I attended. What a difference. Now those people who having attended all the meetings held between the 25^th and the 45 might not have noticed but I did. 

Most of us are now sixty-plus years old.  Our children are grown and married. Heck, some of us have grandchildren that are now grown. We used to group ourselves as we did in High School but now we gravitate toward those with common life experiences and not so much the old high school clubs, sports, etc. To be sure those are still there as well they should be. They just no longer define us. 

 Too be sure we still remember the “Good Old Days” better than they really were but that’s what we, at our ages, get to do. By the time three or four of us had recited the same story we pretty well had it right. Interestingly enough, most of the conversation was about, “What have you been doing with yourself lately?”  Pictures of grandchildren were coming out as, thanks to Rodney Norton, nostalgic music from our time in the sun was being played.  A few even gave it a turn on the dance floor.  Then after a great dinner, a remembrance of friends who had passed on, a group photo followed by a balloon release and it was pretty much over.  We all rushed to our chariots before they turned to pumpkins as our Cinderella experience came to an end.  

I heard there were a few who complained about this or that and one or two had to eat alone because there was not enough seating or food. That’s really too bad because all in all it was a terrific time for me. I came away enriched by it all.  I was especially enriched as I learned of the life experiences of classmates like Sam (Tim) Gentry and his friend and classmate Ray Verducci and others.

Mark Your Calendar for October 2015

Most of us are now sneaking up on 70 and some of us are deeply involved in planning what probably will be our last "official" reunion (By the way, if you would like to help just let me know). Did you catch that? I began this story with feelings of being left out and now I’m speaking of being “deeply involved.”  That’s what happens when you face your fears and anxieties head on and move beyond them.  When I think about it I realize if I had just overcome my anxieties and laid aside my preconceptions how much richer would my life be because of the friendships that might have developed and deepened. I robbed myself of the opportunity to get to know and appreciate the people my classmates have become and as I did I also robbed them of the opportunity to know me as well.

I believe there is a longing in every life to at some point go back to the place where it all started. For some that means going back to the physical place and old familiar surroundings. Trust me, that is not what you want. I have done that and while it sparks a lot of wonderful memories the deplorable condition of the place we called home in those days will only depress you. No it was not so much the buildings and streets. They were just pegs on which I hung my memories. My memories are of our shared experience in and among those now dilapidated, deteriorating and demolished buildings. You, dear friends, are a major part of what makes the years at PHS among the best years of my life. Thank you for sharing those years with me and all of us who form the PHS Class of 1965. It was you, me and the whole bunch of us who together created that world in which we moved from childhood to being men and women fully grown.  

After high school our paths went in hundreds of directions. We went out and made our little marks on the world . Now we are facing the sunset years of our lives and somewhere there is within each of us a feeling long buried, deeply held and now being felt anew that its about time we went back to where we started. Back to where it all began.  I feel it and I believe you will too. Just pause for a few moments and think about it and let those old feelings begin to rise. It is that desire to go back home one last time. There is that innate desire that like the swallows of Capistrano call us home one more time. Even the Bible starts with "In the Beginning and ends with going home. It is the natural order of things.

I remember leading us in prayer at our 45^th reunion as we remembered our classmates who had died. I recall asking everyone there to look at the person their left and then the person on their right and saying “One of those people may not be able to attend our next reunion because they will either have a catastrophic illness or will have died before we once again gather as the PHS Class of 1965. Friends, in my mind these are the only two reason you should miss the 50^th Reunion of the Pasadena High School Class of 1965.  The truth is those who are so ill they can’t attend and those who have died WILL be there because we will be holding them in our hearts and in our memories.

I don’t know how the 50^th Reunion of the PHS Class of 1965 will turn out. I don’t know what memories it will hold and how many it will produce.  What I do know is that is the last one on which I will work and I know that without YOU it will not be everything it could be and that we hope it to be. So come on and join us . . . it will be fun and you'll be glad you did.

"We are the Eagles." “What kind of Eagles?” “Pasadena Eagles!" followed by "We Want Baldy! We Want Baldy!" Only now all the balding guys stand-up.





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Addendum: A Personal Word 

Very quickly let me say a word or two to those who did not find their High School years in Pasadena to be a “high water” mark in their lives. Bad things happened to and around you during those days. I know a few people for whom this is the case. Maybe you think returning for a reunion will open old wounds. Well, it might do just that but it might also be the very place where those wounds are healed and not just covered over. And for a couple of people I know personally where this may be the case. I want to remind you that despite the pain you and I shared some great significant moments in each other’s  life and I cannot think of anyone I would like to see more today than the best friend I had in High School . . . hope to see you there.

Picked this part of the larger photo because I am in this part . . . yep, that's right, it's all about me.

Called of God

I just finished reading and article from Mission Dignity about Harold and Frances Medlock entitled Safe In The Arms of God.  Basically it was a death notice about Frances Medlock who had been getting assistance from Mission Dignity since her husband had died in 2000. Prior to his death Harold and Frances lived off their social security and the pittance of retirement they had managed to accumulate over 50 years of marriage and 45 years of ministry.  However, like so many widows experience when their spouse dies, Frances found her income cut in half and she was no longer able to make ends meet.  Well, Frances has joined her husband in God's heaven.

Frances Medlock

She once said, "I know that God's arms are around me and He's going to be with me." Well, they were and are. While she walked in this life He wrapped her in His everlasting arms of mercy through thousands of people who make Mission Dignity a reality and now he has drawn her ever closer to Himself.

Harold and Frances Medlock's story is not unusual or unique. This is especially true of the men and women God called prior to our modern times. Many of us began our ministries in a time when the old joke "Lord you keep him humble and we'll keep him poor" was more of a reality than a joke.  My own first time church paid me a total salary, benefit  and professional expense package of $9800 a year. That was to cover all my expenses both private and ministry related. Oh yea, we were also expected to give back to the church a tithe of at least $980 a year.  Others made far less and even had to have part-time jobs to make ends meet just as in Harold and Frances Medlock's story.

But times were different then. The focus was on being God called and trusting Him to supply all your needs. Preaching and ministering took priority over "making a living."  We did what we did because as Jeremiah said, "His word was like a fire in our bones."  We did not preach for pay. We preached so that others could hear the Gospel story and find forgiveness and eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. I know I was adamant from the first pulpit committee I was ever approached by to the last that they, the church, did not pay me to preach. I preached because that is what God called me to do. I would preach even if I were not paid and there were many times when I wasn't.

Reverend Joseph Ruggles Wilson

We literally trusted the Lord that His people would be faithful to take care of our needs. I recall hearing the story of Woodrow Wilson's father who was a Presbyterian minister at the turn of the century (1900). Seems that as the Rev. Wilson was tying his horse to the hitching post outside the general store the owner of the store, an elder in the Presbyterian Church, said something to the effect, "Rev. Wilson, your horse fairs better than you." To which the Rev. Wilson replied, "Indeed he does for I take care of my horse and you take care of me."

There was not a distinction between small church preachers and large church preachers that indicated one ministry was more successful than the other. At least not in Baptist life. The highest honor and the greatest thing you could say about a man was that he was a "God Called Preacher." But one God called preacher was not held in higher esteem than another.  Each one was called of God to preach the gospel and than made them all equals under the Lord. Each was a servant of the Most High God.

We were God's servants to be placed and used as He chose and not as we desired. No doubt we would have all liked to have been selected to pastor and preach at a BIG and RICH church that could and would meet our material needs both during active ministry and old age.  But that is not how it was done in those days. We walked through the doors that God opened and not the ones that we decided to open. We served where God placed us not where we got our friends to recommend us. We, naturally asked the brethren to pray that God would open doors but never once did we suggest which door that should be nor did we stipulate it had to represent financial advancement.  I think sometimes our wives might have though.

I have said all that to say that as God called preacher/pastors we serve in the places God places us without consideration of whether or not it is a good move financially. God has lots of places where his people need a preacher and most of them are not big. I am humbled and honored enough just knowing that God called me to preach. It would be ever so much more humbling had he put me in a large place. Do I believe I could have handled a church running into the 1000's? You bet I do!


But ability has nothing to do with where God places His preachers. He puts them where He needs them. Some He sends to foreign fields to labor in strange cultures; some He sends to small out-of-the-way crossroad communities; Some he places in Large places with grand surroundings and great wealth and others He sends to the poor and down-trodden.  The point is none of us deserve the place God's grace gives us to serve. The joy is in the calling and the amazement that He chose us to preach the unsearchable riches of God in Christ Jesus to this world that He loves so dearly. The goal of every God called preacher is to serve where God places him.

Hershel Hobbs

"The personal anointing that comes with God calling a preacher into the ministry is both to be cherished and to be coveted. It is the 'badge of courage' that the God called preacher will wear as long as he breathes. It is as much a part of his living as is the calm assurance that he has been born again into the family of God. May the God called preacher preach with the dignity of being a royal ambassador who represents the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords!"  -  Dr. W. Max Alderman

It was Abraham Lincoln who once said,  "I don't like to hear cut and dried sermons. No—when I hear a man preach, I like to see him act as if he were fighting bees."  In short, he was looking for a man so invested in the message to be delivered that he became physically animated.

That is not to say that people did not make distinctions between preachers. Some were good preachers, some were fair preachers, some were terrible preachers and a few were great preachers. But this had to do with their oratory ability not their calling or standing as a minister. Others were viewed as great pastors and still others were considered great church planters. Some, like Herschel Hobbs,  were viewed as great theologian while other were like, R.G. Lee, great masters of the story. But as I said, this has only to do with gifts and talents that God has distributed as he has chosen to His servants.

By the way, God places his servant where He does with purpose. It may not be to test the faithfulness of the preacher but rather to test the faithfulness of His people in that place.  It might just be to reveal to the congregation where they as a body need to grow and mature.

R.G. Lee

Now back to Howard and Frances Medlock. Some would say Howard should have paid more attention to His future and retirement. Some would even say if he had been any good he would have been given bigger responsibilities. I can hear all the "Christian" financial guys now saying he should have been putting money in his 403C account or in a Guidestone account.  Even the people at Guidestone know the fallacy of such advise. It smacks of the secular. He could have been an investment banker and made a killing at the expense of his neighbors retirement too but he didn't. He did exactly what every other God called preacher is supposed to do and that is preach the Gospel and minister to the people trusting God to supply your needs.

I would say to you that Howard and Frances were right where God wanted them to be doing exactly what God wanted them to be doing and asking them to do it while trusting Him to supply their needs. How about you? Can you say the same? 

How does God supply the needs of His 'Called" preachers/pastors? Through you, the sheep of His pasture. In response to the spiritual and in some case literal food these men of God have delivered to your life God expects you to reach into the gifts He has showered upon you in super abundance and meet the needs not only of the needy among the  "called" ones but also of the widow and the orphan in general.  So dig deep and give generously so God's faithful servants can life out their lives with a modicum of dignity that God has asked you to make possible.  Come on and lend a hand.

An Aside:

I know that in this day and age many have made merchandise of the Gospel. They are selling the gift God has given them to whomever will shell out the price of a book or cost of a CDROM or DVD or minimum offering guarantee. We have become experts in marketing and sales. The problem is we are trafficking in the gifts and callings of God. They are not ours to sell. They belong to God and are freely given for the edification of the church.

But I suppose that's a discussion for another time. But we can turn the Lord's House of Prayer into a Den of Thieves in more than one way.  Selling a gift that God has given for the edification of His body so we can live in comfort and have the praise of men is one of those other ways. We are either preachers and ministers of the Gospel or we are entertainers. We must decide how we use the gifts God has freely bestowed upon us.

We have turned our houses of worship into malls of merchandise and we have turned our church campuses into a theme parks. I read of one church that even built a fishing lake. We have become so much like the world that when placed side by side we look like twins with only a few subtle distinctions between us.


Is it Worth The Risk?

I just heard the Governor of Texas, Rick Perry, a man who I generally admire make a statement that seems to me to run contrary to the whole of the history of this nation. I realize that illegal immigration is a major concern of many people. I also know that a nation needs in these troubled times to control its own borders. However, I just found what he said today a bit incredible.

The statement that I found so incredible was made in the context of what to do with the tens of thousands of children crossing alone into America from Mexico and Central America. These children, most likely being sent by their parents in an effort to help them escape the violence of the drug lord's in their homeland and the oppressive poverty, willingly faced the deserts of the Mexican/USA  border in many cases with nothing but a birth certificate in their hands.

Governor Perry said, "And those who come must be sent back to demonstrate in no uncertain terms that risking your lives on the top of those trains and the ways that they are coming here, it's not worth it."  A life in America is not worth it!

Our colonial forebears thought it was worth it. They crossed a tumultuous ocean in rickety wooden boats to establish communities in a wild and savage land. The braved hard winters with little shelter from the cold. Tell them that "coming here" isn't worth the risk.

Our founding fathers pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor to form a more perfect union, namely these United States of America. So risky an undertaking that Franklin would tell them that if they did not hang together they most certainly would hang separately. But because they took that risk we will celebrate the birth of a nation tomorrow (July 4th). Try telling them that "coming here" isn't worth the risk.

Try telling every mother's son who gave his life to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of these United States of America that "coming here" isn't worth the risk.

Friends that is precisely why every single one of us is a child of an immigrant who looked at America and said to themselves, "It is worth whatever it costs me to "come here."  It is worth the trials and hardships; the hunger and deprivation; persecution and poverty; and whatever it cost just to live in America.

I feel about this like the person who was not born in Texas once said, "I wasn't born in Texas but I got here just as quick as I could."  That's what these children are doing. They weren't born in America but they are trying to get here as soon as they can and at whatever cost. Why? That's easy. It is because just "being here" is in fact worth the risk.

On the base of the Statue of Liberty we announce to the world:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

But in our streets we act like and on our lips we speak like the people who were here when our ancestors arrived. We sound like the Loyalist who said if you don't like it here go somewhere else. We act like the people who interned our own citizens in concentration camps simply because the were of Japanese descent.  The English, the Dutch, the Irish, the Polish etc, etc. etc. were scorned and abused by those who came before them. Truth is the only people who were here from the start, the Native American, got the worst treatment of them all. Sadly, it seems every new group must survive this distorted right of passage until another group comes along.

They may not be here legally but that is not the issue. The issue is, "Is coming here to the land of the free and the home of the brave worth the risk." 

The question is not. "Do they deserve to be here or not."  The question is, "Is coming here seeking a better life, liberty and the ability to pursue happiness worth the risk?"

Coming to America . . . .you bet its worth the risk. The statement below by John Trenchard is about as good a definition of what America aspires to be and explains why "coming here" is worth the risk.

"Liberty is the power which every man has over his own actions, and his right to enjoy the fruits of his labor, art and industry, as far as by it he hurts not the society, or any members of it, by taking from any member, or hindering him from enjoying what he himself enjoys.  The fruits of a man's honest industry are the just rewards of it, ascertained to him by natural and eternal equity, as is his title to use them in the manner which he thinks fit: And thus, with the above limitations, every man is sole lord and arbiter of his own private actions and property...no man living can divest him but by usurpation, or by his own consent. True and impartial liberty is therefore the right of every man to pursue the natural, reasonable, and religious dictates of his own mind; to think what he will, to act as he thinks, provided he acts not to the prejudice of another; to spend his own money himself, and lay out the produce of his labor his own way; and to labor for his own pleasure and profits, and not for others who are idle, and would live...by pillaging and oppressing him, and those that are like him..."

 

Sometimes we wonder if right will ever prevail or whether evil will rule.  James Lowell in the same year Texas became a state put into context for us when he wrote:

James Lowell

Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side;
Some great cause, some great decision, offering each the bloom or blight,
And the choice goes by forever, ’twixt that darkness and that light.

Then to side with truth is noble, when we share her wretched crust,
Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and ’tis prosperous to be just;
Then it is the brave man chooses while the coward stands aside,
Till the multitude make virtue of the faith they had denied.

By the light of burning martyrs, Christ, Thy bleeding feet we track,
Toiling up new Calv’ries ever with the cross that turns not back;
New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth,
They must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of truth.

Though the cause of evil prosper, yet the truth alone is strong;
Though her portion be the scaffold, and upon the throne be wrong;
Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above His own.