The word is "Savior."

I don't know how he got there, he might not have known either, but there he was. Maybe he meant to walk out on the precipice of Niagara Falls in order to be swept over and commit suicide. Maybe he thought he could brave the swift, but shallow water and make it to the other side. Maybe he was running from something...or to something. Regardless of how it happened, it happened. He was alone, standing on the edge of Niagara Falls. One foot, braced against a rock, was all that kept him from being swept over the 171 ft. water fall to certain death. He was too far out to go back. He was too close to the edge to turn around.

Rescuers came, but couldn't help. People trained in this sort of thing. They through lifelines to him that didn't quite reach far enough. They told him to "hang on" but all knew it was just a matter of time. They attached ropes to themselves and tried to wade out to where he was, but to no avail. Emergency responders said they got close enough to hear his plea for help and see the fear in his eyes, but that was all. They couldn't help. Then, his knees buckled...it was almost over. A person can only fight against a river for so long before strength gives way to current. Suddenly, the waters stirred. Into the picture came rescue from above. A helicopter hovered over the helpless man, and a rope with a life preserver was tossed close enough for him to embrace. In a matter of seconds it was over. He was safe. Rescued from above. The help from above went where the earthbound rescuers couldn't, reached where they couldn't, and did what they could not do.

I watched the video and thought about Jesus and me. How, one day, I also teetered on the brink, my past a raging current that pushed me toward despair and my future a hopeless fall into darkness. I wasn't even sure how I got there, but I was there.

I remember how my knees buckled and I wanted to give up. I remember people trying to help me, people trained in this sort of thing. I remember rescuers reaching out to me, but unable to get to where I was.

And then help came...from above.

He came where others could not come. He reached where others could not reach. He did for me what others could not do. He forgave the sin, arrogance and foolishness that led me into despair, and lifted me out of it. I've never been the same.

This Christmas I'm rejoicing at one word that was part of the good news given to the shepherds on that hillside 2,000 years ago; "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord." The word is "Savior."

A "Savior," that's what I needed, what I need, and who I have discovered Jesus to be. No earthbound friend, family member, or trained rescuer could have done for me what Jesus did. There is no substitute for "Savior." True, he has used all of the above to help me on the journey, but only Jesus could have reached me where I was.

Indeed... "when nothing else could help, love lifted me."

Merry Christmas!

You can find the video if you Google "Amazing Rescue at Niagara Falls."

When it Hurts

Leadership is often painful. If the team loses, the coach gets fired. If the play breaks down, the quarterback gets sacked. If the stock drops, the president of the company is called into the boardroom. Psychologists tell us that we can endure almost anything if we have some understanding of a purpose that might be behind it. I recently ran across this devotional thought from Streams in the Desert II. (December 13)

"Angels are not fitted for sympathy, for they know nothing about human life. In a picture by Domenichino, there is an angel standing by the empty cross, touching with his finger one of the sharp points in the thorn-crown which the Saviour had worn. On his face there is the strangest bewilderment. he is trying to make out the mystery of sorrow. He knows nothing of suffering, for he has never suffered. There is nothing in the angel nature or in the angel life to interpret struggle or pain. the same is measurably true of untried human life. If we would be sons of consolation, our natures must be enriched by experience. We are not naturally gentle to all men. There is a harshness in us that needs to be mellowed. We are apt to be heedless of the feelings of others, to forget how many hearts are sore, and carry heavy burdens. We are not gentle toward sorrow, because our own hearts never have been plowed. The best universities cannot teach us the divine art of sympathy. We must walk in the deep valleys ourselves, and then we can be guides to other souls. We must feel the strain, and carry the burden, and endure the struggle ourselves, and then we can be touched, and can give help to others in life's sore stress and poignant need."

I've been thinking about all of the "guides" I've been blessed with over the years and how many valleys they must have walked through, just so they could lead me through them later.

I am grateful.

Stop Dancing and Throw the Bum Out.

A rant after reading Mary Mitchell’s column in the Sun Times on November 9^th, 2010. It was in the “News” section on page 12.

Mary's column said:

“When it is put out there that 72% of “black babies are born to unmarried women,” it is like kicking someone who is down. Most of these women don’t choose a life of solitude. Many of them wanted the white dress. They wanted to walk down somebody’s aisle. They wanted a glittering diamond on their left hand. But pregnancy happened. It bothers me that whenever America’s out of wedlock births are discussed, it becomes a conversation about the shocking number of “black babies being born to unmarried women.” Unless we are talking artificial insemination, it still takes two to tango. And while a lot has changed over the last century, women still have to wait for a man to ask.”

This column is in the “News” section of the paper? Here’s some news, Mary, pregnancy doesn’t "just happen.” It "happens" when two people make a decision and decide to dance. (Okay, it did "just happen" once, but that was 2,000 years ago. Come to think of it, Joseph probably said the same thing I just wrote when it did "just happen" 2,000 years ago. But I digress.)

After years of being the pastor of a local church, I am still surprised at the women who settle for bums because they don’t want to be alone, and I’m weary of the bums they settle for. Bums do what bums do, they bum, and then eventually they move on. You’re right Mary, it does take 2 to tango, and as long as women are willing to dance, be assured there’s a bum somewhere who will dance with them.

Men need to step up! White, black, whatever… men need to step up. The failure of men in our culture to step up to the altar is a shameful mark against men of all ethnicities. It’s time that American men take it personal. According to Mary’s column, in 1990, the number of children born to ALL single-parent households (regardless of race) in the U.S. was 13%. Today it is 41%. If her numbers are correct, that’s a 28% increase, and that’s a problem. The tango needs to stop. The dance floor is getting too crowded.

As men, we need to stop pretending that it’s okay for us to father a child without being married to their mother, and we need to go farther. We need to stop pretending it is okay when one of us moves in with a women without being married to her. In my opinion, that guy's a bum.

We need to call the bums what they are, and stop smiling sideways around the water cooler. We need to call our brothers on the carpet who decide they want the benefits of marriage without the commitment. Men in the U.S. need to grow up, now. No excuses. Propose marriage or move out. As a matter of fact, propose marriage and move out until you’re married. Far too many of you select a date far enough away it leaves you time to keep dancing in the mean time. Stop the music. No more. Offer the ring and give her back the keys because a vast majority of the time, it’s her place. Grow up.

However, when men fail to step up and propose marriage, women need to say “no,” and exit the dance floor. It doesn’t take 2 to make this happen, it only takes 1. When she says “no,” the dance has ended. You’re more powerful than you realize, ladies. That’s the message Mary should be sending to our community as a whole.

The church has to take a stand and say “enough.” Grace demands a strong message about the power and privilege of marriage. Grace demands that we make sure men are hearing what God has to say about what it means to be a man. Grace demands that we so love the women in our lives that they would never dream of settling for anything less than a walk down the aisle with a man who is committed. Grace demands that we reach out lovingly, but firmly to women and men who never realized that there was any other way. God forgive us for doing anything less.

Behind, But Looking Ahead

With the information and media age in full storm, I am feeling left behind these days. I remember conversations with my parents 30 years ago when I was trying to explain the basics of the Apple IIE computer. At some point I just gave up. It was too hard to explain. My parents weren’t stupid, if anything they were much smarter than I was, but the world had changed and they hadn’t.

Now it’s my turn. My son Nate is studying at “Tribeca Flashpoint Academy of Media Arts and Sciences” in Chicago. I don’t even know what the name means. When we talk I try to ask intelligent questions about his work. I’m 0 for 100. We can talk philosophy, religion, and politics, but when it comes to his work, it’s a different language. I have no idea what he actually does. My other son, Nick, is finishing up an undergraduate degree in Corporate Communication at Olivet Nazarene University. Again, we can talk philosophy, religion, and politics, but then he explains the impact of new technology and social media on all of the above and I’m left nodding like I used to do in Algebra class. I nod “yes,” but have no idea what's actually going on. Both conversations with my sons usually end with me saying, “Well, go get’em.” I think that’s what my Mom said to me 30 years ago.

Andy Stanley said something recently that has captured my attention and caused me to rethink my approach to everything new. He said, “I don’t want to become a critic when I should be a student.” He talked about how, as a youth pastor many years ago, the old timers would sit at the table and shake their heads at new ideas and methods for ministry. Now he finds himself in that seat and he’s determined to learn and listen instead of critique and criticize. Me too, Andy, let’s go get’em!

STILL LOOKING

It was January, 1992. I hate January in Illinois. It’s cold and windy and…January in Illinois. Filling my car up with gas one day, the wind blew a piece of trash up against my leg. I kicked it away. (Sorry, I wasn’t green in 1992, and, did I mention…it was cold and windy?)

After the pump clicked off, signaling my tank full and my bank account empty, I went in and paid the bill. Coming out of the station, the wind hit me again, and so did the trash. This time I bent over and picked it up. It was the same crumpled paper that had attacked my leg earlier. With no garbage can in sight, I pushed it into my coat pocket and walked back to the car. The next morning, I pulled it out and realized it was a letter. This is the letter. Just in case you can't read it, here's what it says:

"Dear Santa, My Christmas Wish is for my father to walk in the Back Door. Please try to Accomplish this Christmas Wish if you can't accomplish this wish then that is fine Because I know you have tons of kids you have to attend to!

Your Friend,

Carrie Annie

I still remember warm tears on that cold day. Those were not easy days. I was “trivocational.” In addition to leading a small country church, I worked for the State of Illinois as a Court Appointed Advocate for young people, on a garbage truck as a loader, and drove back and forth to a school 1.5 hours away. But suddenly, after reading the letter, I didn’t have any problems.

From that point forward in ministry, I’ve been looking for Carrie Annie and her father. We prepare for them every Sunday at OFC, the church I currently pastor. They’re the reason we adopted Rick Warren’s strategy of believing that, “every Sunday is Easter.”

They are why numbers matter to us. They will be counted somewhere by someone, and if it’s us, we want to be ready. We don’t want to miss our chance. They are why we plan and pray and sacrifice and make difficult choices. It's why we ask our regulars to park across the street and ride the shuttle. It won’t be an easy road back for Carrie Annie's father. We want to make sure he knows it’s possible. She was wounded terribly 20 years ago. We want to make sure she knows that there is healing in the Name of Jesus.

Carrie Annie and her father are why we embrace difficult decisions. They’re why we say “okay” when a few people leave our church for other churches because they think we focus too much on reaching the un-churched. They don't approve of our methods. We don't ask them to; we just ask those who stay to keep looking.

Here’s what we know. Santa Claus can’t make Carrie Annie’s wish come true, but Jesus can. After all, Jesus already has a rescue team on the ground. We’re it. Carrie Annie and her father are who we’re looking for, next question?

bw

Leaders Hit With Two Strikes

I just enjoyed watching the first round of playoff baseball for the 2010 season. Three games in one day, God is good. In the middle of the third game I heard the announcer say something that I realized I’d heard all day with regard to hitting. He said; “Good hitters can’t be afraid of hitting with two strikes.” It reminded me of Winston Churchill. (I know, it ain’t easy being me.) Winston Churchill was a great two strike hitter.

Stephen Weir published a book in 2008 entitled, “History’s Worst Decisions and the People Who Made Them.” It’s a collection of 50 of the worst decisions made by leaders. It weaves its way through history identifying the arrogance and ignorance that fed dreadful decisions. The fallout of those decisions was most often the lives of people. It’s a frightening book to read, especially if you’re a leader.

Most notable on the list of worst decision makers is Winston Churchill. Until this book, I had only known Churchill as the heroic leader of Britain during WW II. As with every leader, there is more to the story. It turns out that in February of 1915 a young Churchill led what the book calls “a vainglorious and pointless attack on an impregnable peninsula,” called Gallipoli (p. 116). The result of this decision was the loss of 400,000 lives. Strike one.

The author identifies pride as the failing of Churchill in this decision. How do you come back from that? I don’t know, but Churchill did. He came back to make another poor decision, the mapping of Iraq (p. 131). Who would have thought that mapping would result in the mess we have in the Middle East today? I’m not sure how many lives one could lay at that decision? Strike two. But Churchill didn’t quit and I’m sure glad he didn’t. Along came WW II and Churchill saved Great Britain, and arguably, was influential in saving the rest of us.

Leaders make decisions. Leaders are human. Humans make mistakes. Leaders must be willing to bear the burden of being human. They must be willing to make mistakes if they are ever going to see the people they lead lift victory’s banner. It comes with the territory, and often it comes with two strikes.

And the band played on… (OFC 9-26-10)

I will never be able to express my gratitude to God for allowing me to experience Sunday, September 26, 2010 at Ottawa First Church of the Nazarene. The service ended with a challenge for people to respond to a “Faith Impulse” and take a step. The idea was that we miss miracles because we don’t accept the offer of faith God has placed on the table in front of us. In essence, we ignore “Faith Impulses.” The Scriptural picture was of Peter walking on water, all because Jesus said, “Come.”

So a place to start was established and a challenge issued: “If you have not accepted Jesus Christ as your Savior, come, do it now and be baptized.” The band was told, “Start playing, if they come, play as long as they keep coming.” Our worship leader nodded his head and began to play.

It was an impromptu baptism service. Some churches function this way every Sunday, but not us. We usually have classes before baptism. In preparation, we bring clothes and psyche ourselves up before getting wet in front of people. We brace ourselves for bad hair days. We organize. We plan. We prepare. But not today…today we just came…and kept coming. And the band played on.

The call was, “If you’ve had a change of heart, we have a change of clothes.” A phrase not original to our church, and as it turned out, not true either. We ran out of clothes. Consequently, some people had a change of heart but chose to be baptized in the clothes they had on. They went home wet, with a towel around their shoulders, and a smile on their face.

Sixty three of them to be exact, sixty three people who did not come to church expecting to get wet, went home that way. Women in dresses, men in suits, and shorts, and jeans and everything in between. A little boy of about 8 and an older couple about…older. People from all walks of life waited for their turn in the water. The ground really is level…and wet…at the foot of the cross.

I watched tears flow down faces while our Spiritual Formation Pastor, David Alderson, spoke into their heart as they stood in the water. We couldn’t hear what he was saying because the band was playing and we were singing. Each time, as their bright, shining, smiling faces came up out of the water I heard a sound I will never forget; the sound of the church cheering! Sixty three times he said it, and sixty three times we cheered! And the band played on.

After each baptism, as they stood, dripping in the water, Dave pointed to the crowd and said something else. I moved close enough at one point to hear. “Do you see all these people…these people are your family…they are all here for you! They’re cheering for you! You are not alone!”

Parents of high school students scrambled for a camera. They didn’t see this coming.

Wives wept as husbands raised their arms in triumph when they came up out of the water.

Entire families came together, prayed together, and were baptized together. A Father stood in line, escorting his son because the 14 year old had made a decision for Christ and wanted to be baptized. They had driven from the video campus to get in line. After the young man finished, the father approached a pastor, said he wasn’t saved, but wanted to be, and then prayed the prayer…and then got back in line. This time the son escorted the father to the baptismal pool. And the band played on.

I will never forget the faces. I will never forget the tears. I will never forget the embraces. I will never forget the smiles. Thank you, God, for allowing me to be part of this amazing day. Thank you, Church, for being who God called you to be; a group of people more dedicated to reaching others than to pleasing themselves. Over the last few years you’ve endured change and barbequed sacred cows. You’ve sacrificed and served and prayed and given in an attempt to make John 3:16 come alive in our community. Today it did.

Spit it out and move on

A Leadership Lesson from

the Streets of Chicago

The Chicago Sun-Times had an article on June 15, 2010 entitled: “Man spits out bullet after being shot in the mouth.” Apparently, a 39 year old was walking down the street in the 7300 block of South Calumet when he was hit by a stray bullet. When paramedics arrived, they found him lying on the sidewalk with people standing around him, who thought he might already be deceased. However, as they began to talk to him he sat up, spit out a tooth, some blood, and then the bullet. Amazing!

So, here’s the lesson. Whatever happened…happened. You took a bullet. You blew it, someone else blew it, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t supposed to work out that way, you’re embarrassed, or upset, or hurt, or all of the above. I get it. Everyone who’s ever led has been there! However, you are reading this post so it didn’t kill you. God’s grace really is sufficient, His mercies really are new every morning, so sit up, spit it out and move on! Get some help, but spit it out, and move on! There is a battle raging and a victory to be won! There’s way too much behind you to stop now! Besides, if you swallow it, it will poison your leadership. Spit it out and move on!

“I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”

(Philippians 4:13)

A "Doubt Drive-By"

It was very early on a Sunday morning at the end of a tough week. A stop light brought me to a pause at a deserted intersection. That’s where it happened.

The phrase “flood of doubt” comes to mind. Between the mistakes I’ve made, struggles I have, and difficulties ahead, I suddenly reasoned that any day now the people who had followed me would abandon me.

“If they only knew,” I thought. “If they only knew how I struggled, doubted, and sometimes just wanted to quit, they would leave in a heartbeat,” the voice seemed to say.

Maybe you’ve had a moment like this. Failures rolled through my mind like a video at 100X speed. In seconds self confidence and courage were gone. It was like a “doubt drive-by.” It happened so fast. “If they only knew, they’d leave. Turn around. Go home. Call in sick. Quit.”

Then, it happened. I had a God moment. God moments are weird for me. Like an old friend on a road trip who’d been sleeping in the backseat, I felt like Jesus sat up, leaned over the seat, rubbed his eyes and decided to enter the conversation.

“Well, that could be true," he said, emerging from the darkness, "after all, you are a moron sometimes.” (I told you it was weird.) He continued, “But here’s the thing…I know…and I’m still here. As a matter of fact, I know more than anyone else could ever know about you, and I’m still here. I know the goofiest you there is,” he laughed and laid back down, “and look at me, riding down the road with you…still here.”

“They’re following you because I’m calling you. I’m still calling, so you keep leading.”

“Besides, it’s never been as much about you as you think it has.” (Normally that might bruise my fragile ego, but on this day, it was good news.)

Suddenly, the light changed, and so did my day. By the time I parked the car, the load lifted and the sun was peaking over the horizon, and in my spirit.

I guess He meant it when He said, “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”

Don’t give up!

The church needs a good offense.

So, I was watching football last Sunday and couldn't help but notice the number of teams that were totally reliant on their defense to score points. Reminded me of some churches. Far too often churches become great at defense, great at responding and reacting, great at defending and defying, but awful at offense...except offending. It seems it's easier to be offensive than it is to run a good offense. What we need are pastors who will quarterback their team without waiting for the next natural disaster to occur or social issue to develop before they do something. We need leaders who will look for ways to advance the cause of Christ in the community without waiting for the tornado to come so they can hand out soup. Don't get me wrong, when the tornado comes, hand out soup! But let's just do more than react. Check out (1 Kings 20:14) and enjoy your day...but do something!