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.

“Every dog has its day."

“Every dog has its day." The meaning of the quote in our current era is simple. It means everyone gets a chance eventually; or that everyone is successful during some period in their life. Well, I'm here to tell you that this dog has probably had more than his share of being in the spotlight.

One of the things many friends find strange in me is that I have never been motivated by money. Now don't misunderstand. I did not say I did not want, need or seek financial gain. I did and still do. For good or ill money in many ways makes a large part of our world go round. Simply put, you need it to survive. You don't need as much as some folks seem to think and it is a poor measuring rod for a successful life unless you adhere to the philosophy that "he who die with the most toys (money) wins."

Let's take an aside here and affirm the truth of the Biblical statement, "For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil" (I Tim 6:10). I do not suggest that all who make the goal of their lives the pursuit of wealth are in some way evil. That hinges largely on that for which they pursue the wealth. Is it so that they may have the means to in some way make the lives of less fortunate people better or is it to continually feather their own nest. I suggest that the former is an honorable pursuit of wealth while the later is fraught with danger easily leads to a wandering from the faith and piercing themselves with many griefs as well as those in need.

As I said, I was and still am not motivated by money. Truth be told, when I look back on my life it has been motivated by purposeful tasks . . . namely, the task at hand. I also believe that is what drives most people, even those who accumulate great wealth. Often that wealth is the byproducts of successfully completing a task. But not all of life's purposeful tasks give a monetary bonanza. Indeed, most of the things I invested my life in had absolutely no financial return for me.

In fact, there was so little monetary return in what I have invested my life that I might achieve Wesley's goal of  dying with leaving a pittance of coin behind. In 1744 Wesley wrote, "When I die, if I leave behind me ten pounds . . . you and all mankind [may]bear witness against me that I have lived and died a thief and a robber.”  I am in no danger here.

What I failed to notice until my life's pace slowed and I had the opportunity to be reflective was how long and wonderful a day this old dog has had. We sometimes get so wrapped-up in the Tapestry God is weaving that we forget to look a the images he has woven into our particular tapestry. We are so busy with His weaving that we, pardon the cliche, can't see the forest for the trees.

Many years ago I had a wonderful man who happened to be one of my Deacons in the very first church I pastored. His name was Howard Zimmerman and among his many virtues was the joy he got from using rocks to demonstrate that we all have an inner beauty that can only be seen when we go through life's trials. After demonstrating the ugliness of a whole Geode or rock he'd then produced one that had been cut in half revealing its inward beauty. He'd often do so while quoting the words to a  Bill Gaither song, "He'll make something beautiful of your life."  I believe that.

Now I look back at the journey I have been on and I rejoice in what the Lord has done. He took the son of an auto mechanic raised in a home that barely survived financially and He lifted him up higher than the mountains. He called my to labor in His vineyard and said trust me when I say the workman is worthy of his hire. Along the way as Andre Crouch would write we have had many tears and sorrows and there have been those days when we didn't know which way to turn or what to do. But we learned that in every single one of life's situations God gave grace and consolation that what we were doing was for His glory. Through it all, I've learned to trust in Jesus, I've learned to trust in God and I've learned to depend upon His Word.

This for me is so true that today even the darkest moments of my life bring joy to my heart as I reflect on how God has worked His will in my past life and in my present so that I have confidence in my future life. I have experienced what the Psalmist described when he said, "For he hath delivered me out of all trouble: and mine eye hath seen his desire upon mine enemies." But more than that he has filled my heart with unspeakable joy for the blessings of which He has allowed me to be a part and receive.  In many way He has made my crooked places straight and my rough places plain.

Who would have ever thought that the son of a auto mechanic would hold three advanced degrees including a terminal degree; to travel the world; meet and work with His people in far away places; be the under shepherd to his people for 34 years; and to preach His Gospel for almost 50 years now.

But the amazing thing is that while He was using all those experiences and people to weave the tapestry of my life He was at the same time using my life to weave the tapestry of the lives of those who touched my life at some point. Such an amazingly great God we serve.  Each of those lives, your, mine, all of us is amazingly similar but equally amazingly different.

Nothing in life has gripped me with greater joy than the truth that God loves to show his Godness by working for me and through me. Along the way he has taught me that not only that his working for me is always before and under and in any working I do for him. I also know that what He has done for me He not only can and will do in you but is doing so as you read this. 

Some of us have trials dark on every hand and find it hard to understand the path God has chosen for us as we travel to the promised land. Others seem to be blessed on every hand and are amazed at the path God has chosen for them. However, for most of us it is a mixture of joy and sadness; trail and triumph; stumbling along life's path and running with the wind; turmoil and peace; and gain and loss.  In every situation we often do not understand all the ways God would lead us to the blessed Promise Land.  But rest assured if we are faithful unto death what we may not understand now we will one day fully comprehend.

God is always faithful to you so be faithful to Him. He is doing something wonderful in your life through every experience and person who He brings into your life. I have come to see clearly, as only one who has lived long, just how true is Romans 8:28 where Scripture declares that, "We we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." I really do thank God for all those who have both supported me and those who have opposed me over the years. I appreciate the roll those who blessed my life have played as well as those who sought to hurt me played.  I give thanks for those who shared my visions and dreams and for those who didn't understand them or agree with them.  You see, they were the tools God has used to make me who I am and along the way I have been privileged to know some of the finest people in the world . . . . literally around the world.

 

I have said all this to say that as you pursue your life goals and seek to bring all your aspirations to fruition God is at work shaping your life and using it to touch others. John Donne got it so right when he said, "No man is an island entire of itself." Each life touches another and each life is changed by that touch. While all these touches have an impact to a greater or lessor degree on our lives there is one touch that is essential because it changes us at our core and that is the touch of the Master's (Jesus) hand.  As Bill Gaither said in his signature song, "Then the hand of Jesus touched me, and now I am no longer the same."

We are so blessed, by the gifts from Your hand
Just can't understand why You loved us so much.
We are so blessed, we just can't find a way or the words that can say
Thank You, Lord, for Your touch.

We are so blessed by the things You have done,
The vict'ries we've won and what You've brought us through.
We are so blessed, take what we have to bring,
Take it al everything, Lord, we bring it to You.

 

When we're empty You fill us 'til we overflow
When we're hungry You feed us, and cause us to know.
We are so blessed, take what we have to bring,
Take it all, everything, Lord, we love you so much.

 

 

 

The Battle is Over, The Victory is Won so Onward and Upward Christian Soldier: Clyde H. Thompson

These days I seem to be saying farewell to many of the people in my life who played a significant roll in shaping who I am both as a person and as a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This week I have said farewell to another, Clyde Thompson. 

If one is interested in his life you can read the summary found in his obituary.  Suffice it to say that in his 91 years he demonstrated himself to be a loving husband, caring father and committed Christian. Everything he undertook to do he did with faith and energy. No one felt joy as energetically as he and no one carried a burden with more grace. He became a part of our family through marriage and in our minds has been one of us ever since. 

In 91 years he accumulated so many life experience the telling of which are often legendary. His simple straightforward concern was genuine and heartfelt. He was touched by the needs people had both spiritually and physically. He often used a sack of groceries to open the door in a heart for the gospel.  

He was a patriot serving the country by helping man a PT boat during WWII. He could have and should have written his own “PT-109.”   

In forty years of full-time ministry he pastured only three churches. His first church was was FBC in Beasley, Texas. Then when the mission in Lomax was constituted as the First Baptist Church of Lomax he became its founding pastor. Finally he spent the last 24 years as pastor of the Garden Road Baptist Church in Pearland, Texas. I should note for accuracy that before the church moved to Pearland it was called the Minnetex Baptist Church. In a sense he ended his active ministry pretty much where it started at Lomax.

However, I digress from what I want to share about Clyde Thompson. I first met Clyde when I was a student at Pasadena High School shortly after I had surrendered to the preaching Ministry.  A group of us young preacher “going to be’s” had formed an informal school of prophets. We’d travel from church to church to hear some of the prominent preachers of our day or in support of one another when some pastor would let one of us fill their pulpit. 

Clyde often would use one of us to preach on a Sunday night when he was in Lomax. It was on one of these occasions in the early 1960’s that I met Clyde Thompson. And our journey together began.  

Clyde Thompson was a young preacher’s best friend. He not only gave us a chance to practice our preaching he was always encouraging and uplifting. In fact, his influence was such that when I was pastor of the Highland Park Baptist Church in Kilgore in the early 1970’s I invited Clyde to preach the first revival service I had while there.  In turn, I preached what might have been the first revival services that the Garden Road Baptist Church held in their first building when it was brand new. That revival led to me becoming the pastor of the First Baptist Church of Lomax in the mid 1970's.

My point is only this . . . many a young preacher owes Clyde Thompson a debt for allowing them to develop and hone their preaching skills in the churches where he served as pastor. I large part of his legacy is not just the people whose lives he touched as their pastor and friend. It also includes the hundreds and thousands of lives touched through the ministries of those of us who he gave the opportunity to learn, yes I said learn, the art of preaching by actually preaching a real sermon in a real worship service and extend a real invitation to receive Christ. He knew we were novices yet he took a chance and trusted his beloved church family to us so we could gain the experience we’d need in the days ahead as ministers in a Baptist church. Such was his love and faith.  

His obituary says, “His legacy of love is vast, and words are not enough to express all he did for his Lord, family, friends, and people in general” and that is certainly true but to those of us with whom he shared his pulpit his legacy is still being recorded as we continue.

There is so much more that I could say as the lives of the Thompson family and our family became intertwined over the years. There have been moments of joy and days of sorrow; there have been times of laughter and hours of weeping; and there have been days spiritual mountain tops and plenty of valleys.  I believe it can all be summed up in the words of Andre Crunch’s song “Through it All”  . . .  

I've had many tears and sorrows,
I've had questions for tomorrow,
there's been times I didn't know right from wrong.
But in every situation,
God gave me blessed consolation,
that my trials come to only make me strong.

I've been to lots of places,
I've seen a lot of faces,
there's been times I felt so all alone.
But in my lonely hours,
yes, those precious lonely hours,
Jesus lets me know that I was His own

I thank God for the mountains,
and I thank Him for the valleys,
I thank Him for the storms He brought me through.
For if I'd never had a problem,
I wouldn't know God could solve them,
I'd never know what faith in God could do

Chorus
Through it all,
through it all,
I've learned to trust in Jesus,
I've learned to trust in God.

Through it all,
through it all,
I've learned to depend upon His Word.

It's Memorial Day

Memorial Day itself was originally known as “Decoration Day” as loved ones would place flowers on the graves of those fallen in military combat. In what may have been a spontaneous event towns planned and gathered to honor the war dead from the Civil War. In 1868, General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic officially proclaimed the holiday. On May 30, 1868, flowers were first placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.

Tomorrow is Memorial Day and we as a nation and as individuals turn our attention to the men and women of the nation who served our country and have now crossed over into eternity. For me it is really a time of reflection on my Mom and Dad. Their bodies rest in the Houston National Cemetery and they live in God's presence.

I rarely speak of either of them in the past tense. This is because I believe that God has given them eternal life and though their bodies have died they live on.

My dad was a farm boy from North East Texas. Well, in his case "boy" might not be the right word since he was 29 years of age when he was drafted into the United States Army Air Force. So in May 1942 he said his goodbye's to friends and family and made his way to Fort Sam Houston. It was here that he completed his basic training and learned that he would be attending engineering school in Seattle, Washington at the Boeing Assembly Plant. Supervised by Army officers and trained by Boeing engineers he became an expert on the heavy bomber known as the B-17. He even had a certificate from both the Army Air Force and the Boeing Corporation to that effect.

After a few more advanced engineering courses he and a crew of  9 other men were assigned a brand new B-17 bomber and ordered to England via Iceland to join the 8th United States Army Air Force as a part of one of their heavy bomber groups. However, when they arrived in England and reported to the Personnel Assignment Office they discovered that the 8th AAF did not need them but did need their airplane.

Dad and others who were a part of the group bringing the B-17's to England found themselves without a home or an assignment. Fortunately, the 9th. AAF was moving back to England from North Africa and needed personnel. Dad found himself assigned to the 9th AAF, 52nd Troop Carrier Wing, 315 Troop Carrier Group, 35th. Squadron. Dad said it was the best thing that could have happened. He later learned that the B-17 he had given up to the 8th. AAF was shot down on a bombing mission.

After a quick trip to North Africa for Operation Husky where they backed up elements of the 12th AAF he returned to Spanhoe, England from which he participated  in paratrooper drops in the early morning hours of June 6, 1944 (Normandy) when he dropped elements of the 82nd. Airborne's 504th PIR. Later he would participate in Paratrooper Drops during Operation Market Garden dropping the same 504 PIR along with British and Polish paratroopers.  For all his combat flights he received the Air Medal with Oak Leaf Cluster.

His Squadron also regularly flew the Glenn Miller band back and forth to Paris and have long challenged the official story of Miller's death. I have heard stories from Dad's fellow airmen that cause me to be skeptical of the official story as well.

It was in 1943 that Dad met my mother while on leave in London. She had probably seen more war than had he. She lived through the blitz of London. I have seen the chart showing the location of well over 100 bombs, many of which were high explosive, in and around their home on Beatrice Road in Bermondsey, a suburb of London.

In January 1945 they were married and in August of that same year Dad was ordered to Trinidad. So late in the month he said his goodbye's and along with a stick of  paratroopers left England for Trinidad. For the next three months he ferried returning soldiers to West Miami Beach as they then headed for the places where they first became soldiers to be demobilized and become private citizens once again.

In late November Dad turned down an offer to re-enlist and be a part of the formation of the USAF and was immediately ordered to Fort Sam Houston where he himself would be demobilized.  My mom would follow soon by making the transatlantic crossing on the old Queen Mary (now a floating hotel in Los Angeles).

Dad was reluctant to talk about his war experience but mother was proud to expose his wartime activities. It was through her and his fellow squadron members that I learned part of what an air medal with oak leaf cluster really means. I am especially thankful to Doc Clower and Gussie Perkins for filling in so many of the  blank spaces in dad's wartime experiences. One day perhaps I'll tell the whole story though I doubt doing so would make dad happy. He'd always cut any inquiries about the war off by saying, "We just did what had to be done." But I suspect the truth probably lies behind something he once said to me when I asked about his roll in the war and he said, "I had to live through all that once, why would you want me to live through it again."

Mom and Dad are both gone now. Dad died of cancer on Father's Day, July 19, 1983 at the age of 71 and Mom went to be with the Lord on March 20, 2001 at the age of 77 the result of a brain stem hemorrhage. Both are buried in the Houston National Cemetery. My dad lost a cousin in Natal, Brazil when his plane exploded on takeoff. My mom lost her fiance at Dunkirk, a cousin in Burma and countless family members in Europe.

Today, for me, mom and dad represent all the men and women who have served the country in war and in peace and now have stepped into eternity. I am thankful to God for your faithful service.
 
I am sure you too have a loved one who served nobly and with honor. Join  me and let's honor them all.

Today, I am thinking of them and giving  thanks to God for giving me to these two remarkable people. Mom, Dad, I really do miss you guys and look forward to the day when we shall be together again in God's forever family.

I look forward to the day when Isaiah 2:4, "They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore," becomes reality. Until then I give thanks to God for all those who stand in the gap and make up the wall to enable the rest of us to continue the pursuit life, liberty and happiness.

Performance Leader or Worship Leader

I was on my Facebook Wall today and came across a blog that someone had posted in which they thought I might be interested. The particular subject of the blog was "Why Men Have Stopped Singing." It was written by David Murrow on the blog "A Few Good Men."

As I read this short explanation of why men no longer sing during worship services I didn't even ask myself if it were actually true that men have quit singing during church services. I know it is because that is pretty much the case in the church where I worship.

Truth is, sometimes I feel like a lone wolf howling in the night wind during the time of congregational singing. Don't get me wrong. Our worship leader generally does an excellent job of putting together the service. However, when I look around most of the men are just standing in silence like so many fence posts.

There are probably a lot of reasons why and David Murrow has nailed down a few and his readers a bunch more. However, for me the answer lies deeper than "unfamiliarity" with the songs, the pitch of the song, or the femininity of the music. I agree, men want a song pitched in a range in which they can sing, that they would prefer songs they know and that are a bit more masculine.  I believe men like to sing about the "Joy of the Lord" and "Victory in Jesus." I believe they want to both sing to the Lord and sing about the Lord. I don't even think it is the contemporary style of the music that has silenced the men's voices. Again, don't misunderstand me . . . these are all contributing factors.

I believe the change from vibrant robust congregational sing where the men just "opened up and let her fly" started to end the day we started moving our talents to the platform. We did this in a way that showcased the leaders skills and talents. We have a kid who plays drums so lets put him on the platform and use his talents; another plays base so let's get him up there too; and on and on we go. Now we have a band.  We moved the choir out to make room for the speakers, amplifiers, microphones, equalizers and synthesizers. Now our four worship leaders sound like "Jars of Clay" or "Abba" or "Alabama."  Not really . . . but our electronics change the sound coming out of our mouths so that everyone is on pitch and on the right rhythm so we just sound like it. Then the "Band" begins believing that's what they really sound like. If we could just get that preacher to sound more like Billy Graham.

While we were embracing all this "new" way of worshipping an obscure British apologist named John Blanchard was warning of the dangers inherent in a church embracing the new forms and structure approach to worship in a little book called "Pop Goes The Gospel."

Now I know some smart person is going to point out that preachers have been in the spotlight for a long time and people sat quietly through as he performed for them so lets deal with that now. If, and I say if the preacher was front and center so that he could demonstrate his oratorical skills or lack thereof then shame on him. Here is the difference. When the preacher stands to preach he is delivering a message from God to the people. When God speaks it behooves us all to listen. However, there was a time when the "Amens" came from men in the congregation and not women. That is pretty much reversed these days. When the congregation stands to sing and the worship leader (Worship Team) leads them in singing it is to for the people together as the body of Christ to declare to the goodness of God, greatness of God and the things (victories) He has done. God speaks through the sermon and the people respond
through song, testimony and the occasional "amen."

This can happen through any "style" of worship and indeed has and does occur weekly. However, we have forgotten an axiom of worship that is tucked away in B.B. McKinneys assertion that the congregation is the largest and most important choir that the worship leader has. The whole purpose of a worship leader, a worship team, a traditional choral setup is to engage the congregation so that men, women and children participate. Whether it is preaching, singing or whatever if the congregation doesn't go with you it is a failure.

I fear much of what we are doing is play acting and performing not for God but for ourselves. Are we playing the the right notes and singing the right words but what our hearts really mean is not found in the notes and words we sing. First Baptist Church of Orlando gave an example of this when they recorded Don't Worship This Way.

What has happened is we have transformed our worship services from the preacher delivering a message from God to God's people and the worship leader engaging the congregation in corporate worship of God to the church's equivalent of a concert.. As one Worship leader said to me, "I call it "Performance Ministry" as opposed to "Worship Ministry." What we need is fewer Performance Ministers and more Worship Ministers.

The goal of the preacher and the worship team is the same as that of John the Baptist, "He must increase, but I must decrease." We must get back to defining what we are trying to do in worship and periodically and honestly evaluate how well our method, process, and style is achieving that goal. That goal should be to engage as many people as possible in worship.

I believe that if we are honest we'll take notice that not only are the men not singing we will discover that most of the women aren't singing either. If the congregation is not robustly involved  then it's time to ask, "Why aren't they?" and "What can we do to get them involved in worship?"  Remember, if you want them to change then you are going to have to do something different. Don't try to force them into your little box . . . change boxes by getting one into which they will fit.

Goodbye To Tucker

"It's On My Mind" is the title of this blog because it is about whatever happens to be on my mind at any given time. Well, today what's on my mind is a dog. . . not just any dog but a very special dog named Tucker. He was my Buddy . . . He was my Pal.

Now I've never been big on having pets and Lord knows (don't want to offend anyone here) but I've never cared too much for cats. But since a child I have always thought a boy ought to have a dog.

A boy learns a lot from and with his dog. They literally discover the world together. He's your best friend and constant companion. He's always happy to see you and when you're gone he will wait until time is no more for your return and when you do return he is always happy to see you and will greet you more enthusiastically than any friend or relative.  

I know that when I was growing up I had my dog. That dog pretty much went with me every where I went and I suppose I learned about as much from him as I did anyone else. He taught me loyalty, friendship, to be happy with whatever I had at the time and a hundred other things. "Rusty" was what my mom called a Heinz 57 Variety. He had pedigree in spades and he was my firend. As a young boy I cried when Rusty died.

But I digress. It is not Rusty that I am really thinking about today. Today I am thinking of Tucker. He came into our house when our youngest daughter was 19 years old and one of the first things he did besides poop and pee on the floor was chew up the TV/Sound system remote and my middle daughter's glasses.

In time he mastered the potty routines and set up house in a corner where he would spend most of his
day napping. We never tired of watching him walk three times in a circle on his bed before laying down and then pulling his little blanket over not just his body but his head.

He was better than a doorbell . . . he always seemed to know when someone was coming up to the house and would race to the door as though he was a lot bigger six inch legs would indicate. He greeted everyone with barking and tail wagging. When the door opened he would steadily make his retreat.

Tucker had a phenomenal memory. He not only always knew the family members he might be staying with at any given time but he knew all the children and grandchildren as well. He seemed to know when you needed some attention and would let you know he loved you in the way only a good family dog can. All he ever required was a little attention, affection, love and an occasional treat. In retuned he reciprocated with a lot of love and affection.

If you look close in the picture below you'll see Tucker near our patio table. H was always on the look-out for a falling crumb or anything that might pass as food.

Now I don't really have to tell this to the members of the family who used to "hang" with him. Everyone was always asking, "How's Tucker?" To be sure he was a spoiled dog but that might be because he spoiled us in return.

At nearly 15 years of age Tucker, like the rest of us had begun to show his age. His hair, like mine was turning grey and he now had an arthritic limp on his rear left leg. But through all those years he remained loyal to his family and brought a lot of joy to four generations. You see Tucker didn't think of himself as a pet. He thought of himself as a member of the family. A little different from the rest of us but still a part of the family. He loved us and he trusted us to the very end and that is what brings tears to my eyes as I think of "Old Man Tucker" as I had come to call him.  We kinda grew old together. . . And yes, as a grown man, I cried when Tucker died.

We often refer to our dogs as "man's best friend." Well, Tucker may well have been my best friend.

I've always known something about the bond that develops between a boy and his dog and have always thought there just had to be someplace for those wonderful family members we call our pets. Who knows maybe there is a place called Rainbow Bridge for our beloved pets. At least I like to think so.

"Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.  When an animal dies that has been
especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.  There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.  There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.  All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.  The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.  They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.  You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.  Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together...."

Billy Currington sings a song called "Like my Dog Does" and he really does hit the nail on the head when it comes our dogs. We could learn a lot from our dogs.

So much could be said but I dare say no dog was ever loved by more people than "Old Man" Tucker. He had a good and long life for a dog . . .  I just wish it could have been a little longer.