Christmas Memories

Fruitcake always gets a bad rap this time of year. Apparently, it's known as a pity gift to people or a gift for someone you don't particularly like. My son Trevor is in a play on Sunday, and he was practicing his lines today. His very first line mentions "fruitcake." He went on practicing, but I couldn't get the fruitcake out of my mind.

Dewayne has always been special. I'm not really sure of the medical abnormalities that he may suffer with, but he is indeed special in other ways too. Always eager to help, and always willing to lend a hand or a strong back, Dewayne loves his church and community. Affectionately known as "Chick," to most people, the story is told that when he was a child, he didn't think there would be enough to eat for a particular meal. He went to the yard and wrung a chicken's neck, and carried it to his mother to cook. In his heart of hearts, Dewayne always just wants to help. He loves Jesus, and He loves people.

When I was a child, he loved the kids in our church. Even though his legal age was that of an adult, he played with the kids in the church in the yard during choir practice. He was literally our tree that swung us around by our hands, ankles, and was always picked first for a team when we were going to play Red Rover. He was an umpire during softball games in the cemetery (don't ask), and he was the resident referee during times of squabbles and disagreements. Every summer, he would come and get my sister and me and take us fishing. He patiently baited our hook only to watch us cast the line straight into the tree.

And Every Christmas, without fail, he would bring a fruitcake to our home. His sister apparently made fruitcakes for friends/family each year, and Dewayne always made sure that our family received one. He didn't have much to give, but he made sure that we knew we were loved. And we did. When I was a really small child, I didn't see the big deal about fruitcake. But as I grew, I realized the sentiment behind the fruitcake. No, he didn't make it with his own hands, and no, he probably didn't pay for it either, but he made sure that we got one. Because he loves us.

Today he still loves us, and I know it. When I'm in town, he always wants to see me to see how I'm doing. He always tells me that he's proud of me, even though I'm 35 years old now. And he loves my children, even though he doesn't know them that well.

I wish everyone loved like that. I wish everyone knew the joy that Dewayne carries in his heart. I've never seen a heart so pure.

This time of year, we get hurried, frazzled, stressed, and downright angry at the way people act. And sadly, sometimes the holidays bring out the worst in us. This year, I'd give anything to have a piece of that fruitcake...just to remember the depth of love that we as Christians can display if we just spend time and share with others. We don't have to give extravagant gifts or decorate elaborate cookies. Sometimes the most-often joked-about gift can be the best...as long as the recipient knows we care.

Long Time

It's been a really long time since I've posted anything on here. I've often wanted to, but never put my thoughts into action.

Since my last post, the worst (and best) times of ministry have taken place. Our church split. The pain of that whole ordeal was greater than even I imagined, and I could never want to come through that again. Since that time, we've tried to heal, although discouragement, despair, worry, and regret all took over...or seemed to at least.

Over the summer, we did some outreach events, and I confess, my heart wasn't all the way in them. I couldn't stop thinking about all that had happened and all that could STILL happen.

I knew in my heart and in my mind that God would provide a harvest if we were faithful to do our part. It's just in the last 2 months, God has blessed our efforts, and OH, is He blessing!

It's exciting to be a part of what God is doing, and it's exciting to be used.

Humbled

Heath and I are in the midst of deep research on co-pastors. There's not a lot of us out there, but the trend is growing. I don't like calling it a trend because it feels like we're calling it a fad. But at any rate, the model of co-ministry is growing.

As I was doing this research, I came across one Mary Lee Cagle. She actually led her future husband Henry to the Lord during one of her revival campaigns in 1897. In 1900, they were married, and the two worked together for the next 50 years as pastors, district superintendents, evangelists, and church planters with the Church of the Nazarene. In 1927 as circumstances had dictated, Henry was district superintendent in Texas while Mary Lee worked as the district evangelist. Her report to the 1927 District Assembly said:

"Our work has not been with the larger churches, but with the weak, struggling ones. I have held 13 revival meetings, preached 175 times, saw 216 converted and 118 sanctified, and... have travelled about 10,000 miles in a car and have made a few trips on the train. I have [visited] practically all of the churches in the district and some of them more than once. "

I don't know if I'm the only one or not, but her statements convict me to the core. What are we doing? Pastors today are so busy complaining and whining about unsupportive church members, finances, and seeker-friendly facilities, that we've totally neglected what we should be about. As I read Rev. Cagle's report, I felt unworthy to even write about her life. We've got to get busy. And when we stand before God, please don't let me be standing next to her!

Becky

Today is Becky's birthday.

Becky was a regular attender of our church when we arrived in January of 2009. She was a single lady in her mid-50's with no children. She worked at the University in the cafeteria for 37 years and loved her job.

It was apparent that she struggled financially and physically. She was diabetic, had high blood pressure, and had severe back problems. During the summers and over Christmas the University cafeteria closed down and so therefore, she had no income during those months. Her problems were great, and that is exactly what had driven her to church--and Her Lord during the summer of 2008.

We realized right away that Becky was no ordinary person. She loved to laugh, loved to love others, and loved to be loved. She thrived in church and she soaked up every word and thought that she possibly could. Often times I would look her way on purpose while I was preaching only to get encouragement from her in return. It was always so refreshing to see someone with a fresh spirit and hunger for God.

Our conversations always turned around sooner or later to the topic of God's faithfulness, goodness, and compassion. She was a babe in Christ and needed constant attention and feeding. It was at times emotionally draining but always fulfilling at the end of the day.

During the summer of 2009, Becky and I went to eat lunch one day and I noticed she was limping. This was to be the start of a lengthy illness and problems like we had never known before. Soon to be discovered, her back was in terrible shape with her spine twisted and contorted in such a way that the doctors really didn't give her any hope of ever helping. Because of this, she was unable to go back to work in the fall. It was hard for her financially...so hard that she ended up having to move and forget about former financial obligations just so she could have a roof over her head. Thanks to the generosity of fellow church members and family members, she moved to a subsidized housing unit, and she absolutely thrived! She was breathing much easier from the financial weight alone being lifted from her shoulders.

Then the phone call came two weeks later. Her niece called to tell me that Becky had suffered a major heart attack and the doctors weren't giving them much hope. When I got to the hospital and entered the ICU area, I saw Becky's body lying there being supported by a ventilator. The doctor came in that morning to notify the family that Becky had no brain activity and that they should think about removing her from the life support system.

I immediately knew that this was a situation that would not leave me the same as a pastor. I had never witnessed someone dying, and I had never met any of her family at all. The only thing I knew what that they didn't know the Lord, and here I am now with them trying to offer them the only support I knew--my God. I breathed a prayer for strength and plunged right in. God would see them through. God's grace is enough. I was assured that Becky would be with Him and completely healed.

I felt scared, empowered, shy, and bold--all at the same time. A voice and strength I didn't know I had came out, and I was able to minister in a time of chaos.

Becky left the world that day, but memories of her still linger in my mind. In the days that followed, I grieved--for all of the things I should've, could've, and would've taught her. I wondered, "Did I do/say all that I could've? Did I do a good enough job?"

I thought about the first day of school for my first-born. I constantly racked my mind her first day asking myself, "Did I teach her respect for elders? Did I teach her how to write her name? Does she know her parents' names/phone numbers just in case? Did I pack her a good lunch? Is she dressed well?"

As I thought about Becky standing before God, I thought along the same lines. Did I do a good enough job?

After the memorial service was over, and the family went on to go on with their lives, I understood anew the responsibility we have to minister. We're not promised tomorrow, and we're not promised another opportunity. Seize it while you have it.