http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm Wilt Dairy: The View From the Milkhouse - A Southgate Baptist Church blog by Pastor Eric Mounts en-us Thu, 05 Mar 2015 06:35:59-0500 Tue, 25 Jan 2011 06:23:00-0500 BlogCFC http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss emounts@southgatechurch.org emounts@southgatechurch.org http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2011/1/25/Home I have been thinking a lot about home in the last quarter of 2010. I am a bit of a home boy. I like the familiar surroundings and places where so much history is attached to the geography. I grew up singing about heaven as home with a humble group of people behind the economic eight ball. They were all hewn from rather modest means. The church also included two special prayer chapels behind the building. There was a boy's prayer chapel and a girl's prayer chapel. In the winter, none of us ever prayed very long...when we were going to the bathroom...if you get my drift...which actually drifts of snow made trips to the prayer chapel all the more loathsome in the winter. 1973 was a great year for us. Inside prayer rooms are so much better! It is amazing how a lack in economic fortitude has a tendency to sharpen our skills to see what is, in fact, enduring and sustained. We could see eternity from our church. And we sang about it. That singing inevitably led to songs about heaven. We sang of "mansions just over the hilltop" and "looking for a city" and of this world's inability to define our final address or fulfill or most noble dreams. We were built for eternal life. We felt it and sang about it. "This world is not my home, I'm just a passing through, my treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue the angels beckon me from Heaven's open door And I can't feel at home in this world anymore" That first verse of "This World Is Not My Home" would ring out at our little church with regular frequency. In college, Dr. Allen Monroe took umbrage with the song's lyrics and message. He was rightly accenting the good point that this life matters a great deal and time and space and history are important. But it served just to continue my own musings on home and what is home. If your house burns down what has happened to your home? Does home take up geographic space? Is home an address? Where is its address? Where is my home? As I wrote before in former blog, a mentor-friend of mine named Vernon Grounds died last year. Each year he always wrote a Christmas letter. They were paramount to an epistle from a venerable apostle. They were always rich and for me, stirred worship at advent. He was not around for this year's edition. He is home. So, his daughter scribed the last one. It was great. In it she discusses home. I quote from her letter, from Barbara Owen December 2010: "The year 2010 will be remembered by our family as the year of relocation for all of us except the Gagnebins. First, Mom and Dad relocated to Wichita, and Bob and I put our home up for sale. Then dad relocated to Glory, and Mother moved to a smaller apartment. Next our home sold, and we relocated to Wichita. It is a daily blessing to be physically near each other but there are many adjustments to make. How thankful we are that God never changes and, as the hymn writer put it, 'in every change He faithful will remain'. The relocations of this year have caused me to think long thoughts about home. Exactly where is home? When we say "home," what springs to mind? When did Denver stop and Wichita begin being home? When does one house stop and another begin being home? I think the relationship that form and dwell in a place make it home. The people who inhabit a building make it a home. You want to go to a place because of the people who live there. Home is where your loved ones are. Yet our earthly homes alter and eventually cease to be as one by one our loved ones leave this earth. Only the final Home that awaits us remains steadfast. The only member of our little family who is truly Home right now is Dad. All his life he was headed there. And he spent his entire life helping people get in right relationship with God so that Heaven could be their final Home, too." The postscript to her letter was listed as "heading home" with Vernon being noted "in absentia". Fascinating stuff! Obviously, he had reproduced after his own kind in Barbara's pen. Springfield will always be an early home because of the people here, dear family and friends and a ton of brothers in sister in God's family. But all homes on this side of eternity are momentary and temporal. Actually we are all urbanites at heart, vagabonds looking for the right city..."the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God." Hebrews 11:10. Can you imagine the skyline? That will be home...forever...for everyone who has embraced Jesus Christ our Lord by faith! Some day we'll be home...for good! We have a great hope and a great home for which to look forward! Tue, 25 Jan 2011 06:23:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2011/1/25/Home http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/12/27/Born-That-Man-No-More-May-Die We drove home from Michigan last night and arrived in the early evening. We had a chance to visit Andi's dad (Ed) and be with Andi's family for Christmas. Ed has been in hospice for over six months now battling lymphoma. Warn out, Ben and I relaxed to a fascinating C-Span debate between English-American atheist-journalist Christopher Hitchens and former British Prime Minister and more recent convert to Roman Catholicism, Tony Blair . Hitchens is the author of the 2007 book God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything. The debate was discussing the proposition, "Be it resolved, religion is a force for good in the world." It was sponsored by the Munk Debate Series and organized by the Aurea Foundation Group in Toronto, Canada. The debate was held on November 26, 2010 to a packed auditorium of some twenty seven hundred people. The debate was ninety minutes long. Ben, who loves agile thoughts, and I enjoyed listening. Hitchens takes no prisoners and is unashamedly confrontational in debate. Fascinating, but sad. I had never seen a picture of Hitchens before. He actually appeared gaunt to me and with a shaved head. His mind seemed razor sharp. Blair was caught flat footed several times in the debate before a crowd which identified their bias for skepticism (57%) before the debate began. Hitchens is daring and forceful. He compared the God of the Christian Bible to "a sort of divine North Korea". He has a long distinguished history of debating these issues. It showed, as well as Blair's lack of such experience, although all well educated Brits can speak well. Tony Blair showed that. The debate ended with the crowd sympathetic to Hitchens. Hitchens ended the debate having to make frequent returns to his water bottle in a gesture that at first I did not understand. I actually felt a bit sick in my spirit when the debate ended. Wow! Where is Tim Keller (Redeemer Presbyterian Church, NYC, The Reason For God) when we need him? He would have matched Hitchens rhetoric with more thoughtful salvos of defense and retort. Ben and I prayed for Christopher Hitchens and went to bed. At about 12:30 this morning, having been asleep for about one hour, the phone woke us up. It was Andi's sister who was on the other end, crying. God had come for Ed MacDermaid and he went home to heaven. We thought about our visit with him earlier in the previous day. He was more alert and clear headed than Thanksgiving, although clearly in a great deal of pain. In answer to the query about his breathing (he had been put on oxygen in the last week) he was honest-bottom-line Ed, "Ain't breathing worth crap!" We visited and sang a verse of "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" and "Day by Day". He affirmed his hope in heaven and all that is ours in Christ. I prayed and we left. As we were leaving, he called out, "Goodbye Andrea!" "Andrea" is what he always had called Andi. That last call was a gift. God ordained that Andi and I and Ben and Abbey would be his last visitors from family on earth. After we hung up the phone we sat on the bed and remembered our best memories. He was a hard working GM blue collar man who fought it out to provide for his family of six children along with his faithful wife Helen. He could make anything in his garage and all of us have our homes filled with several things he crafted for us in his shop. Above my head is an above the door shelf he built to display a series of tins. That is just Ed. The kids remembered the pine wood derby cars. We dismantled people with Ed's engineering...well that and 16 ounces of silicone per wheel. He played pick up hockey until he was in his mid sixties. Recently, he just seemed to remember playing with the Wings. In fact, he told us just yesterday he was arrested last Saturday night in a hockey fight of some sort he was involved in. At first we felt anguish about the drug and pain induced thoughts of his, but we came to embrace them and enjoy his yarns. Ed died today. Andi was his favorite. I've heard him tell her-although I must concede I have not heard what of the same he may have told her four other sisters and one brother. I could tell though. I've been the unbiased most tenured observer as I married the oldest. Because he was in so much pain yesterday during our visit and because Ed had given his life in repentance and faith to Jesus, there was a sense of relief in the news of his death. It was his time and it seemed right. Ed was ready. Before we went back to sleep Ben and I started reflecting about the debate we had watched on C-Span which preceded by three hours the news of Ed's death. Christopher Hitchens has no idea. Freud is right. Death is the one problem for which we seem not to have found a solution. But the glory of the good news that is still cause of great joy is that we do not have to solve that problem. God did that with His visit in Christ. Jesus Christ now invites us to life. There is someone at home in the universe. That someone has made himself known in Jesus Christ. Jesus is inviting us to hope in life and hope in death, an eternal kind of life for whosoever will. In doing a bit of reading to write this article today I found something else out. Christopher Hitchens is dying from esophageal cancer. He is bald because he has lost his hair. He is gaunt because of the treatment. He is without hope because he is an atheist. He said, "You have to choose your future regrets." Yes you do. We make our decisions and then our decisions make us...forever. In eternity, some will consider regrets for a long time. Others will savor the beauty of God's plan all along to rescue Adam's poor helpless race. As I was praying this morning I thought of the Christmas Carole, "Hark the Herald Angels Sing". Hail the heaven born Prince of Peace! Hail the Son of Righteousness! Light and Life to all He brings Risen with healing in His wings Mild He lays His glory by Born that Man no more may die Born to raise the sons of earth Born to give them second birth Hark! The herald angels sing "Glory to the newborn King!" Indeed, Glory! Pray for Christopher Hitchens. Pray for his comfort and for God to reveal Himself mercifully to Him. He is going to die. Jesus Christ will live forever. We should have sent Charles Wesley* to the debate! *He wrote "Hark The Herald Angels Sing". Hope Mon, 27 Dec 2010 16:27:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/12/27/Born-That-Man-No-More-May-Die http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/12/7/Unsustainable "Unsustainable"...that is one of 2010's words of the year. I have heard it all through the year as people have talked about government, the government's role, deficit, stimulus and spending. Everybody is using the term. We cannot go on like we are. The president's deficit reduction team has come back and one of their key words about our present patterns of governmental spending is "unsustainable". As the fabric of our society seems to be fraying at the seams-and it's a fray vectoring straight from our families and family structures that are disintegrating-government is being increasing looked upon as a "savior". But we can't afford the saving...it is much too high a price. In a word, our current patterns are unsustainable. God never intended the government to do His job. Government is such a failure at saving. Jesus Christ is the Savior. But there is one social structure that is promised to be sustained and one that may provide great help in this moment where government is demonstrating it cannot provide the reach to help. It is an institution that Jesus argued even death itself could not vanquish (Matthew 16:18). The people of God, resourced by the presence of God, are sustainable. We were made to shine and called into existence-God's new humanity-for such a time as this. I believe this "unsustainable" is our Esther moment. We can show the world that God made a structure that holds people together in their brokenness by living among them as He holds them up. But there is a price to this showing...and we have to put up now that we have sung. Let me explain. In a former day we frequently sang, "Rescue the Perishing" with its grand lines of caring for the dying. Have you ever noticed how easy it is to sing and how much harder it is to live? While the fabric of society rips apart, the church has the great opportunity to knit together the broken in a fellowship of love, healing and redemption. Brokenness is hard. Pre-consummation travail is not fun. Suffering hurts and yet is a part of everyday life in this place where the curse is "as far as" can be found. So indeed, this is our moment. Shine Jesus' body, shine! In high school I shared company with a girl whose family took in their uncle, as he was dying. I have a friend who adopted a lonely man in a nursing care facility and made regular company with this man pretty much estranged from all that he had ever known. My sister took in two boys whose home was shattered, followed by the court divvying them out. Those boys hit the family lotto in my sister's home of love and grace orbiting around Jesus Christ. My college buddy was bragging on his wife today. She sat down and developed an individualized plan for development for a broken lady in her city. She got her permit, learned to drive, studied for the GED, passed the GED...and in the meantime was loved by a devoted follower of Jesus who has shared Her Savior with this gal along the way. Another college buddy adopted a little girl. She is having the life she would never have had. A bunch of my friends mentor kids. The future will hold government services scaling back. The system is not only broken, it is not affordable. To whom will they go? What if this moment all along was designed by God to be our moment to shine; to demonstrate to a watching selfish indulgent world that people matter to God-that all of us are image bearers of God and have worth? What if God wanted to stir the attention of the "up and out" by our ministry to and with the "down and out"? Brokenness is fair...it gets around to all of us at all levels of society. We're unraveling at all levels. Financially, relationally, vocationally... God has positioned the church everyone, high and low, right in positions of need. We do not lack for exposure to opportunity. Let us be found in this, our moment, knitting together in love (Colossians 2:4, 2:19) a culture coming apart in the consequence of sinful indulgence. We were made as a church for such a time as this. Let's get after it for Christ sake and leave them marveling, "My, how they love one another." John 13:35. We as a lot are great sinners. Jesus is a greater Savior! The Church: The Body of Christ Tue, 07 Dec 2010 21:04:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/12/7/Unsustainable http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/11/17/After-The-Big-Meal Thanksgiving is a great tradition. We stop as fall wanes and get with friends and family and eat like the depression will start again at noon on Black Friday. Ok, we throw in a little football on TV and that usually rounds out the day...along with a turkey juice induced nap that comes over everyone about 3:30 P.M. Only the most loyal Lion's fan usually stays awake through this version of the American siesta. We all have our traditions and habits. Not often is it "over the river and through the woods", but mostly it is to Grandmother's house we go. And yes, the horse-power, with the Garmin, usually knows the way. The great irony of this big day is that often Thanksgiving is about everything but thanksgiving. Often the day goes down with large portions of turkey and dressing, huge batches of pumpkin pie, well enough gravy, mashed potatoes a heaping, rolls enough for the 82nd airborne, cranberry salads a plenty and an all too small portion of thanks; thanks to God, our Creator, from whom comes every good and perfect gift...and days with those we love. Sure these are hard days for our country. We are at war and ten percent of us are out of work. But America is still the best place on earth to live. Just for a moment, the whole group of us needs to get on a plane and take a trip to some part of the developing world. A meal or two in a one room hut or corrugated steel "home" would reshape our vision of what we have and how good God is to us here. It would be a thanks inducing trip. Gratitude is running at lower ebb these days. The apostle Paul spoke of a coming age when gross assumption and entitlement would reign over the human heart. "You owe me" is a completely different spirit than "I am grateful". God finds the latter so much more attractive, and it is so much more appropriate...and it is the standard for which we will give account on the Great Day. At Southgate, we are working together at this discipline. We have been marked by that great rhetorical question in the Bible, "What do we have that we have not been given?" Nothing, absolutely nothing. So yes, we are working at gratitude at Southgate. We are hosting a special service of thanks that follows this year's Big Meal! There is much for which to be grateful. We are stopping to acknowledge that before a generous God. This Sunday, November 28th, we'll gather at 10:30 A.M. and return thanks for His bounty. Why don't you join us? Consider this your special invitation. Actually gratitude has become a bit of a habit at Southgate. Thanksgiving comes before we celebrate Christmas. The package of Christmas, Good Friday and Easter has brought us to forgiveness, hope and a life that sustains our gratitude. Jesus Christ loved us and gave Himself for us. "Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift." Devotional Wed, 17 Nov 2010 16:45:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/11/17/After-The-Big-Meal http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/10/22/Im-good-for-that "God is not a man, that he should lie, nor a son of man that He should repent; Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken and will he not make it good?" Numbers 23:19 "I'll be good for that!" Maybe you have heard that before. Maybe you were planning the next gathering with food with your small group and you were divvying out what everyone was going to bring. Maybe you were at the parents meeting for the sports team and planning the ending get together. Who was going to bring what? Or maybe you were passing out assignments for things that had to be done among a group of widows you were serving. Among the deacons the list of duties was greeted with short staccato acceptance speeches of, "I'm good for that." The only problem with that phrase is that if it is articulated by one who is not trustworthy, one can run into real problems. How many moms have thrown in an extra package of wieners for the local cookout to cover for anyone who might not have been as "good" as they said they were going to be? If you are going marshal critical resources to pull off an event, you need everyone to be good for what they say they are going to be good for. I am just finishing up a reading of the book of Numbers and I believe a part of the arc of the message of the book centers around how God can be counted upon to be good for what he promised. He will make good on what he has declared. It was when the Israelites most counted upon him making good on his promises that things went the best for them. Of course, Numbers describes several incidents where Israel chose not to believe that God was going to make good on what he had said. Caleb and Joshua believed and acted like they believed (which is how we know they believed) that God would make good. They were not naïve in noticing the challenges before the people to go in and take the land. But they saw the promise of God looming larger and his commitment to his promise as taking precedence over whatever they saw. It was the "promised" land. God had said it. He would make good. When the people of God leaned upon God's resolve to make good, they got on quite well. When they questioned his commitment to his promises to them, it went down bad. As I finish reading the book, I am invited afresh to lean on what God has promised, knowing that he will make good. I can trust him...trust him to make good on his promise. Making good on his promise is different from insuring that my life is an unceasing series of pleasures that call for no perseverance, courage or fortitude. God standing for what he has promised does not mean my life will always turn out how I want and with the joys made in the image of my desires and what I had imagined would be best. But my life will turn out to find that what God promised all along was true and he made good on his pledge. Knowing that he's good for that brings peace as I lean back on his promise to move ahead in living that honors him. He's good for that! Faith Fri, 22 Oct 2010 15:07:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/10/22/Im-good-for-that http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/9/28/VEG-Writing-On-The-Tablets-Of-Peoples-Hearts He told me once that he did not write books because he had enjoyed rather writing on "the tablets of men's hearts". Some of my most cherished tablet pages were written by my dear and kind indulging friend, Dr. Vernon Grounds. Today my day started by opening a letter to find out that at ninety six years old, the Lord came for Him and Dr. Grounds absented his body. I only knew him for the last nineteen years of his life. It is a good story, indulge me please. In 1991 I was two years out as senior pastor and neck deep in the harshest of human brokenness and feeling I was qualified for advanced post doctoral fellowships in inadequacy. So I went to a conference at Elmbrook Church outside Milwaukee and one plenary speaker was Vernon Grounds. The conference was on Holiness and Mental Health. He spoke for three days on the difference Christianity brings to life in a broken and shattered world. He spoke boldly of how Christ is as Peter described "all that we need for life and godliness". He spoke of the sufficiency of Christ and the grace of God for the suffering and tragedies and struggles we face in life. My heart was greatly encouraged. As the conference closed, I approached him, just as another face in the crowd. I wanted to tell him what it had meant to my heart to listen to the truth the last few days as he presented it. He was standing on a stage above me. He motioned in a way that was confusing to me to come down to the end of the stage. I followed a little confused. The end of the stage found us both on the same level and we were eye to eye. He wrapped his arms around me in a big hug and told me how much my encouragement meant to him. That started it all. I was pastoring in Grand Ledge, Michigan (outside of Lansing). He was on the board for Radio Bible Class in Grand Rapids. So when he would fly in for meetings, we would try to get together. He came to Grand Ledge twice to speak. We relished being with him. He was full of wit and experience and wisdom and a theological grid that traversed the ages and personalities. I remember he spoke the first Sunday night on the one message that he would preach if he knew it was his last message. It was on Colossians 1 and the supremacy of Christ. It was a great message. On his second trip a few years later, he got up to preach this last message of the weekend on a Sunday night...and preached the same exact message. At first I was disappointed. But the more I have reflected upon it, accenting the supremacy of Christ is just the order of the day...and Vernon knew it. When I came to Southgate, the church welcomed me with an installation service. Dr. Grounds agreed to be the speaker. I treasure the weekend he was here. He was so happy for me. He spoke a message I will always remember. I need to dig the video tape out of the archives and play it again. His seminal articles on a Christian approach to counseling in Christianity Today in the late fifties and early sixties provided impetus to a fledging entity that has grown to massive proportions. He was so wise. Andi moved with me down here to Springfield. She was turning forty, had just left a house they let us redecorate and we had just re-landscaped the whole place. Our youngest was now leaving home for the school years. She had lost her place. He quietly listened to her in a tender moment that weekend and then put his arm around her and thinking of our new home and this new environment for her, he said, "Plant a bush, Andi. Wait a year. It will all be better." He was right. It was just the sage advice we needed to hear. Realistic, proven over time and spot on. I heard Dallas Willard say one time that being with Vernon Grounds was like being with on the "Fathers" in that Old Testament sense. What an agile mind! What a warm spirit! What affection for Christ! A giant of influence and grace. His biography written by his long time colleague at Denver Seminary (Bruce Shelley) is aptly entitled Transformed by Love. He was in seminary with Ken Kantzer and Edith and Francis Schaeffer. Armand Nicholi at Harvard Psychiatry Medical School notes his mentoring influence over his life. He lived so long, he touched so many. His work is done. In his wake is left a bunch of tablets. He has set his quill pen down. No more Christmas letters full of thoughtful provocation. No more lunches with laughter and wisdom and wit. No more consults with pastors-my last visit with him was in his library at the seminary (his ten thousand volume special section..."his library") about four years ago. No more thoughtful devotionals (marked VEG) in our Daily Bread. His work is done. How grateful I am for the several times Andi and I had the privilege of being with Dr. Grounds and characteristically he would always pick up that godly quill and write on the tablets of our hearts. Go ahead...pick up your quill today...write away on the tablet of one's heart. Speak gracious godly vitality into their lives! Relating in God's family on this good journey following Jesus has many treasures. Relating to each other in encouraging ways is one of my favorites. Shout Outs Tue, 28 Sep 2010 22:35:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/9/28/VEG-Writing-On-The-Tablets-Of-Peoples-Hearts http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/8/16/Trust-The-Map-For-The-Journey Thirty four turns should have been my first clue. But I was inattentive. In fact, I did not even look at the instructions until I left the driveway...and by that time, it was too late. My fate had been sealed. But in the end, it worked, I just had to stay on task and I was grateful that it was not at night. But that is getting ahead in the story. On a recent excursion into Virginia I had to try to figure out how to get home from Winchester. Do you use map quest? I always want to get home the fastest way. But the way the crow flies is not always the most updated roads with widths with tolerable margins. I opened the instructions and noted that thirty four turns did seem like a lot, but I was just starting out and determined to go that first .4 of a mile and then take a slight left. Yes it was the way to get home in six hours and forty nine minutes. But Andi and I saw things that even Lewis and Clark and other early pioneers going west had to have missed. County road 45 is the bomb! Now was that Maryland or was it Virginia or was it West Virginia? At certain points we seemed to pass freely between the states. We were in the boonies...which I am not entirely sure what that word means, but it is akin to being "out there". Oh sure, the last 164 miles from Washington, Pennsylvania was on I-70, but by that time we were numb with turns. We did not get to I-70 until instruction # 30. We were in our driveway with instruction #34. So, in the middle of nowhere in unfamiliar turf, we had to trust the instructions. All we had to go on was the map quest turns...which included 364 feet on South Mechanic Street...somewhere, but I cannot remember where. We pushed back against thoughts of "Where in the world is this?" and "Are we going the right way?" by pressing down on the accelerator and following the instructions. In the middle of the haze, I thought of the Word of God. The Bible is our road map for life. How it is belittled and badgered by an "enlightened" culture. Yet all of our "enlightened" living is utterly destroying us, individually and collectively. All of God's instructions are for our good. Yet many of God's instructions we follow when we cannot yet see the outcome. At some level, we have to make a choice. Shall we embrace what is revealed from our God in God's map quest? Shall we sustain our trust in the book in the face of skeptics and our own sensation that we are experiencing what we have never been a part of before? Do we keep going in confusion? What do we have to do to go on the dark? We have the instructions. In the end, we'll get there. Though having passed through what we could not see and undergo what we could not entirely understand, it the Word of God that stands forever, which is such a stark contrast to our mortal flesh. A God who cannot lie took up speech, as a concession to us, and disclosed Himself. He invites us to lay hold of what he has revealed and forge ahead, trusting him. It is the map. He is the cartographer. We do well to sustain our grip on what he has revealed. So on we faithfully go, left, right, right, left... Knowing that every prescribed turn is for our good, even when we cannot see. He holds out our highest good in what he has revealed about himself and what he has called us to do. So let's keep turning and follow the map wherever it leads. I eventually got home in the shortest amount of time. I left frustration and just began to enjoy the ride trusting in map quest. My faith was not misplaced. Neither is ours. "All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; Surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever." Isaiah 40:6-8 "Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." Psalm 119:105 Faith Mon, 16 Aug 2010 09:17:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/8/16/Trust-The-Map-For-The-Journey http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/6/25/John-Woodewn-Virtue-Wins One of my heroes died this month. Ninety nine year old John Wooden, famed coach of the UCLA Bruins, succumbed June 4th. His life was well lived. Today lead stories on ESPN's Sportscenter are chronicles of our favorite sports hero's latest crime spree or scandal. John Wooden's long life of virtue stands in bold relief. He wanted most to be conceived of as a teacher, a life coach. Oh sure, he was outrageously successful by all standards of measure in ways no coach will ever be. He won seven NCAA March Madness Tournaments in a row (1967-1973). He won ten NCAA Championships in twelve years (1964-1975). He won 80% of his 826 college games. He was ESPN's Coach of the Century. In 2009 Sporting News named him the Greatest Coach of All Time. The Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2003... But one does not get medals and fame for the three most compelling emblems of his life. Yet, we are still talking about him thirty five years after he retired because virtue has a shelf life that out lives our fifteen minutes of Warhol's fame. Ok, his was a half hour. John Wooden loved his wife. He met Nellie at a Carnival in 1926. They married in August of 1932. It would be a joyous union of 53 years. In March of 1985 cancer ended their storied love affair. Sports Illustrated's Rick Reilly made famous Wooden's devotion to Nellie describing monthly love letters on the anniversary of her death each 21st. After agreeing to a book on enduring love, Reilly showed up at the appointed hour and found Wooden weeping saying, "It is too soon!" It was 1995. It is no small irony that his faithfulness in marriage was next door to Hollywood. John Wooden was out in front of the diversity curve with a city game that actually accelerated the breaking down of walls between the races. In 1947, while coaching at Indiana State, he refused an invitation to the NAIB tournament because they would not allow black players. The team stayed home with their African-American starter. In the aftermath of the turbulent racial discord of the 60's Wooden is found embracing Sidney Wicks when the 1971 NCAA championship game was over. He loved Wicks and every other member of that great team. His pyramid of virtues includes "Friendship: comes from mutual esteem, respect and devotion. A sincere liking for all." Coach stuck with the fundamentals. His teams excelled because they were devoted to the consistent practice of the basics. All the while he taught them about the basics of life. John Wooden was a follower of Jesus Christ. In a cynical age, Wooden sticks out. He is not easily dismissed. He was the genuine article. His faith explains the legacy of his life. He said, "I've trusted Christ... There is only one kind of life that truly wins, and that is the one that places faith in the hands of the Savior." May His tribe increase! Shout Outs Fri, 25 Jun 2010 23:05:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/6/25/John-Woodewn-Virtue-Wins http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/6/4/Jesus-An-Alternative-Life Living life the way Jesus intends is truly a counter cultural experience. One critic of the early church suggested that they were turning the whole world upside down (17:6), or what that really meant was "right side up". Living for Jesus is an alternative to the way most of the people in world live. Their way is killing them. Consume, indulge, protect, secure it all for yourselves; these drives clearly are not delivering on their promise. Have we ever been collectively more unhappy and more given to discontent? One author has suggested that we are one nation under therapy. But Jesus invites us to a whole different way of living. It is so attractive, and it is as attractive as it is counter-intuitive to our world's approach to life. But when it is put on display and we ponder it, I find the way of Christ difficult to dismiss or ignore. A friend of mine recently died. He was only fifty four. About seven years ago, he abandoned his old way of life and took up the life of Jesus and believed on Him and began to follow. The results were dramatic. His approach to life changed. All who knew him acknowledged that he had changed. What brings a man in his mid forties to such life change? One could certainly attribute it to his mortality. He had a liver transplant about six years ago. As he headed for the transplant, he threw inhibition to the wind and he embraced Christ. But I cannot help but think that he was attracted to Christ by seeing that there was another way to live. He had a painting business and needed a vehicle. He heard that the church where his wife was attending needed to sell an old van. The van had had a number of miles put on it. The church sold it to him for what seemed like, at the time, a just price. The church van was converted into a rolling warehouse for paint supplies and would roll up to jobs and off load assets and away the painters would go. Soon after the rolling warehouse was mustered out into service for his paint company, the van blew up. Yes, no sooner had he bought it and started using it than the engine gave up the ghost. It was no small fix and he was out the money he had paid for the van. He was a little upset with the church. He was like other small business men who operate with a small margin. He was determined to approach the church and voice his displeasure. So he did. And so they responded. Amazing grace struck yet again! The ways of Christ showed brightly. As the church contemplated what to do, they decided that the way of Christ involved grace and generosity. They gave Dale his money back...all of it. Dale was dumbfounded. Dumbfounded to be gang tackled by the beauty of the way the life of Jesus is lived out. Looking back now, it is not hard to see that it was grace that ran Dale down. Dale could not ultimately shake the gesture. Six years after the liver transplant and drugs designed to keep his body from rejecting this vital organ (and drugs which push down your immune system), an infection lifted its ugly head, took over and took Dale's life. But Dale had seen Jesus, first in that interaction with the church over the van. Then Dale embraced Jesus by faith and began to live that life to which he had been called. Dale died with hope, having first seen the beauty of the way of Christ in the midst of the discouraging circumstance of his van blowing up. Indeed, amazing grace strikes again. Oh the seductive power of the beauty of this alternative way of life. There is another way to live. We've all been invited to The Way! "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, no one comes to the Father but by me." John 14:6 Devotional Fri, 04 Jun 2010 16:28:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/6/4/Jesus-An-Alternative-Life http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/5/3/Generostiy I had wanted to meet him. I was told he was going to be at the wedding I was attending. I love to meet old sages at anything, but especially servants of God. He had buried his life in Timbuktu in Mali West Africa. I had heard Steve Saint tell of the story of meeting the pastor of the church he founded. Steve shared the man's testimony of coming to faith in Christ. It was a balled punctuated by stolen vegetables, a scriptural memory club, a bic pen and the grace of God. And as Steve took delight in telling, a narrative on how the man had heard of the story of the martyred missionaries in Ecuador-one of whom, of course, was Steve's father Nate Saint. The man is showing his age with the lines having fallen to him in pleasant places. His wife's white hair and sweet disposition were both signs that time and God's grace had moved her on towards the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ. It was a delight to meet them and talk to them. Timbuktu is in Mid Northern Mali close to the Niger River. Muslims not able to go to Mecca for the hajj can substitute a trip to the old mud mosque in Timbuktu, Mali. Sankore Mosque has seen its share of visitors. It has been a by-word destination for the West for the obscure and the extremely out there place. I remember in the eighties at Southgate when we were making some videos to promote our missions conference we all loaded up on a bus in the midst of shooting a "rap" of all things, and the sign they displayed on the back window of the bus was 'Timbuktu or bust!" He shared stories at the table with another couple from our church. I think Joe and Jan were as enthralled as I was. Given three couples from Southgate in Mali and having heard of this couple, I had always wanted to talk to them. But it was the intersection of two veterans, the love of the body of Christ and generosity that made for a delightful turn in the conversation. Let me explain. Good friends of theirs are good friends of mine. They had served with their mission in a neighboring country in West Africa. Clearly there was a lot of mutual affection, respect and appreciation for the collective representation of faithfulness in the lives of these four. The sage I was with that night shared how recently their colleagues had driven through their town on their way to visit family in another part of the state. The errand also included a change out in cars-oh life's mundane necessities. Their friends were driving a car that was kept in good shape and was clearly in stead for some more miles. They inquired as to the destiny of the vehicle. Their friends told them that it was to be used to trade in on another vehicle. In passing, the brother from Timbuktu noted that he would be interested in the car. A brief conversation ensued about possibilities. Price may even have been discussed. Both couples slept on the matter in the midst of a nice visit catching up on life and godliness. But the next morning was the kicker. Generosity broke out in supple proportion. The Timbuktu couple got emotional as they told me the story. Agreeing to the transaction, special instructions were left for how this would go down...with specific detail on not reading the terms in the envelope until after their departure (now some of you are just a little ahead of me in the story at this point). The note was one for the ages-one of those notes that you read and never forget. It was a note about generosity, which has a particularly delightful shelf life in the spirit. The note recounted the selling couples gratitude for a life time (many of them were listed) of kindnesses and moments shared of great encouragement. With a measure of emotion, the brother shared how the last paragraph closed. You know now. The car became a gift. It was a generous gesture celebrating friendship between old vets who had labored together and nearby in a cause that will last forever. I do not think they will ever ride in a car that they more appreciate. It is what it represents that matters. It was a monument to fellowship and affection in gospel ministry and of course, to generosity. The apostle Paul calls Jesus Christ an unspeakable gift and sets the bar of generosity where none of us can reach. But as footnotes on His generosity, you and I can step up and be generous to each other. Oh, it may not be over the top like a car, but there are a million and more ways for us to be generous...and all the while imaging just how God is disposed toward His own. All right, who is it going to be? To whom will we share generously today? Friendship Mon, 03 May 2010 07:46:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/5/3/Generostiy http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/3/31/Sinners-At-Enfield It was a Mission Impossible kind of a heist. They scaled the building in a predawn rainstorm a few weeks ago on Sunday morning March 14th. After cutting a hole in the roof, they repelled down into the unmarked warehouse. Immediately the security system was disabled. The thieves netted prescription drugs manufactured by Eli Lily worth $75 million dollars. They were mostly Eli Lilly's staples of Prozac (it's first billion dollar drug) and Cymbalta and Zyprexa. There were no narcotics or other painkillers involved. It went down in Enfield, Connecticut. Some observers suggest that this biggest heist in pharmaceutical history will go down in folklore for the growing trend of warehoused pharmaceuticals in America being taken down. Enfield got famous again, if just for a moment. There has not been a story out of Enfield that big since 1741. That is a long hiatus. Enfield took a 269 years break between big stories. But in an odd way, the two stories may relate. As the Great Awakening was catching fire sent from heaven up the Connecticut River valley in the early 1740's, a 38 year old preacher at the epicenter of its outbreak from Northampton, Massachusetts was invited as a guest preacher to go down to Enfield and preach. For reasons that please God He chose to use guest preachers as catalysts for reviving sparks in those days. It was no different on the night of July 8th in 1741 in Enfield when Jonathan Edwards began to preach. He had actually preached the message once before at Northampton with no affecting upon his people. This second rendering in Enfield would be remembered forever. He preached on the threat of the wrath of God justly poured out on sinners who found themselves in the hands of a God who was angry at them and the evil that was being wrought in their lives. His language was characteristically Edwardsean. He smithed word pictures that gripped the crowd. "The unseen, unthought of ways and means of persons going suddenly out of the world are innumerable and inconceivable. Unconverted men walk over the pit of hell on a rotten covering, and there are innumerable places in this covering so weak that they won't bear their weight, and these places are not seen. The arrows of death fly unseen at noonday; the sharpest sight can't discern them." He appealed to the crowd to throw themselves onto the mercy of God. He offered Jesus as the remedy to our dilemma. The crowd was moved... ...so moved that he finished his message early. He stopped his message altogether and dealt with the crowd who by the time he started through the second half was involved in a frenzied group-convulsion of concern for their souls. Wailing and calling out was heard throughout the auditorium. People literally clung to the pews afraid they would slip into eternity, the text of course, "Their foot shall slide in due time," Deuteronomy 32:35. The people saw God for His holy self. An old fashion dose of the fear of God overwhelmed them. But many of them found rest for their fear of God in the gracious offering of His own Son in mercy to atone for our sins which put us in such peril. Edwards never preached the message again. As sport to mock the Puritans the message makes its way into many High School Literature anthologies, sometimes in an edited version which leaves off the offer of God's mercies in Christ. Good Friday, indeed. The Psalmist speaks of the godless as having no fear of God before their eyes.(Psalm 36:1). No one left Enfield that night without a healthy dose of the fear of God and some left joyfully meditating (for the rest of their lives) on the mercy this offended God offered in Jesus Christ. Calvary covers it all, a gospel writer would say over a century later. What happened in Enfield recently is an emblem of this cultural moment in America. The daring of the incident is now famous. A culture that would become dependent upon pharmaceutical help that is needed in such volume that private warehouses are needed to stage for their dispersement says something about us, but I fear not very much. I thank God for His kindness in the development of needed drugs that help sustain us in our broken maladies. But others have observed that we have developed too much hope in the Walgren's pharmacy. Lilly was never intended to save us. Jesus does not need any help with that at all. When there is no fear of God before a culture, civility begins to break up. Thievery continues to develop. Frequently abused prescription drugs raise in value on the street and secret warehouses are found out and big hits go down...among other negative trends. But when we see ourselves for who we really are, apart from Christ (sinners in the hands of a God who is angry...who poured out His anger at us on Christ) sinners in need of Christ, we are moved to reshape how live through repentance and faith. We experience awakening. People are not seeing themselves in such light these days, much to our and Lilly's chagrin. We are the worse for it as a culture. Maybe God will be pleased to bring yet another awakening afresh to a healthy fear of God...the beginning of wisdom. Edwards helped people understand their plight and God's heart for them. We are yet sinners in the hands of an angry God, who vented his anger on Good Friday on our behalf. Now, the door of grace and peace and pardon is wide open. As a culture and individuals, we would do well to run in and find "rest for our souls." Good News Wed, 31 Mar 2010 18:33:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/3/31/Sinners-At-Enfield http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/3/13/Barbara-Wilt Aunt Barb died last Saturday morning. Barbara Wilt was my mom's older sister and the last one left in mom's immediate family, her mom and dad and her middle older sister already gone. You've noted the name of this blog, "Wilt Dairy". Aunt Barb was Uncle Dick's partner for life. She died a couple of days shy of sharing sixty two years in marriage together. Uncle Dick's term of endearment for his life partner was "Becky". His Becky succumbed after a long fight of about ten years with heart, heart value and congestive heart and a troubling blood disorder. She was weak and tired and died a week ago today. She was a bright gal who loved education. After graduation from Enon High School in 1947 she got married in 1948. She married a dairy farmer who was parlaying a hundred acres plus and some rented ground into a Jersey Dairy farm enterprise. She and Dick shared a great relationship that was practical. She did whatever had to be done to make farming work. She was known to wash the milkers, work the fields, always feed the hired hands and generally lead the household in whatever was needed. She was the designated driver for...the bailer. She noted that was when she always got her tan. She relieved me disking once when were trying to get a field planted before the rain. She was a lot better at it than me. What was extraordinary was that she stepped up for all that help, while...working full time (teacher), going to night school and finishing a degree, and rearing four kids, with intensive summers in class. The Springfield News-Sun picked up on such super woman tendencies and did an article on how one could get so much accomplished. She loved to read. Alan Eckert was her favorite historical novelist. The Frontiersman is all about Ohio. She was the perennial threat at Trivial Pursuit. She was the go-to source for knowledge. She was smart and enjoyed learning. She was always asking her grandkids about how they were doing in school. Each Halloween was candy and books. Each Easter was underwear and books. She was covering all the bases. She lived all of her life on Rebert Pike. She lived a lot of her life next to three married children living on three contiguous properties. The grandkids maintained she never missed anything that went on. She was director of family intelligence in more ways than one. It was as their kids got older that they gave themselves a little permission to get away. Twice daily milking will keep you tied to the farm unless you make special provision. They got into boating at Lake Cumberland. She loved it and reading on those long summer afternoons off of the back deck of the house boar became one of her favorite past times. She taught school for over thirty years. She finished at Enon Elementary around 1995. That was the very building where she graduated from high school. She taught two of her kids in kindergarten (Andy and Lori). I had her in kindergarten and she rescued me from one of the great early crises of my educational career. We all took our chairs to the back of the room for a movie. The lights went down and the movie came up. When the movie was over, all of my classmates moved their chairs back to their desks...except for me. I could not move. I was paralyzed with anxiety. I peed my pants and left a puddle and a great crises in the wake. She handled it all so well. I saved the money I made bailing hay and milking those sweet Jerseys and bought a new Schwinn Continental ten speed touring bike that was sweet. I would ride my bike over to the Wilts and park outside the milk house and go to work. While I milked one night, soon after I took possession of that sweet bike, two kids riding the same bike out from town, spotted that bike and took it as their own. After milking, the thievery was discovered. Aunt Barb took up my honor and we went on an expedition to recover the bike. We drove around a bit and went on a tip about ten miles from the farm into Yellow Springs. Appearing on the horizon were the thieves, one of whom was riding my bike. It was one of her greatest recovery operations of her life. We laughed about it for years. Aunt Barb never did like you to mess with people she cared for. Aunt Barb was eighty. She shared life with Uncle Dick for more than sixty years. She will be sorely missed. Her four kids and seven grandchildren love each other and they are hurting together. It was a privilege as an outsider, albeit and nephew and cousin, to enter into the inner place and go through the week with them this week. God was such a genius in creating the family. Pray for Uncle Dick. His Becky is gone. This will be a big transition. Seventy years of friends and school mates got together. It was an old Greenon High School affair. What a joy to have the privilege of sharing hope with the whole network and extended community. Jesus Christ entered our sorrows and offered himself as the remedy to our sin which brought death. He is still the resurrection and the life. "He who believes in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live, yes, he that lives and believes in him will never die. Do you believe this?" John 11:25-26 Shout Outs Sat, 13 Mar 2010 15:37:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/3/13/Barbara-Wilt http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/2/8/Joy-To-The-Worldis-coming Some weeks we are more reminded than others that our world is broken and in need of repair. Last week was one of those weeks for me. There is a crass expression which refers to a person who has overly indulged in alcohol, one will say, "That guy has had one too many." Well, last week was one of those "one too many weeks for me". Now for me it was not one too many ingestions of alcohol, but one too many exposures to brokenness-one too many reminders that the whole place needs renewal. Periodically I am pushed to a tipping point that lops me over onto the most influential article I have ever read and lops me onto a verse of my favorite hymn. In a pastoral journal one of my heroes wrote an article entitled "Get Ready For The River Is Rising". Vernon Grounds penned the article. He kindly indulged Andi and me in friendship as he was serving his last stints on the board at Radio Bible Class and flew in and out of Grand Rapids, Michigan while I was serving a church in Lansing. I met him in 1990 at a conference. One of his former students gave me the article twenty five years ago. It discusses a conversation that the prophet Jeremiah had with God about how tough going being a prophet was in his days. To use the Grounds paraphrase as I remember it, God told Jeremiah, "Jeremiah, get ready. If you think the flowing river is threatening now, get ready for the river is rising." One cryptic metaphor that he used in the article was employed to describe the harrowing predicaments that we get ourselves into while living in a broken world that is waiting for redemption and renewal. He noted that at times we may feel like we are swimming upstream against a raging current with "only one nostril poking up out of the water". Now that is a memorable metaphor, and when you get there, gasping for air while hurting for others who are being broken in half, you come back to the article. By the way, Grounds' point is that our exposure to brokenness can drive us deeply into the character of God and we can know of his sufficiency in a way that we never would have known. I was boring in last week, searching and again finding Him that rock so necessary and faithful. In 1719 Issac Watts gave us "Joy To The World". Usually it is sung as a Christmas carol marking Jesus Christ's first advent. But, while the joy of Bethlehem is a foretaste of the ultimate joy that will be at Christ's second coming, the song is about the ultimate renewal that Jesus Christ will bring about in the end with the consummation of the ages. Our groans and travails will give way to all things being made new. I love his verse (especially on broken-laden weeks): "No more let sins and sorrows grow, Nor thorns infest the ground; He comes to make his blessings flow Far as the curse is found, Far as the curse is found, Far as, far as, the curse is found." Sins and sorrows always grow together. When you are in the ditch pitching, it can seem like you are down late in the innings with the wrong part of the lineup coming up to bat. A buddy's former roommate is suddenly killed just days out in a new gig that he had worked all of his short life of twenty five years to realize. A heart valve signaled that it had to be replaced. Who likes that surgery? A single mom works through the aftermath of her dear son's friend's sudden death...in the 9th grade. That is after a few aftermaths that take your breath as you listen and you ponder together the big questions that can only be swallowed up in Jesus who was a man of sorrows and one acquainted with grief, who bore our sorrows and suffered himself...for us. It was lunch with a sharp friend who is going through what was never anticipated in the demise of a dream and a relationship that is enough to cut a guy in half. A vile wound and some more days in the burn clinic at Ohio State University Hospital. Two discouraged friends who withdraw a bit when the brokenness skirts the perimeter of their lives. They are both in the hole. I love them. I hurt with them. Another buddy is sitting at home not feeling very well and waiting on the Lord...and a liver. My aunt is in hospice. My buddy's strokes have rendered him blind and immobile. Another buddy is walking forward from some of the toughest days of his life. Tuesday I have a memorial service for a friend who loved Jesus and the gospel and frequently encouraged me with his kind words. I am praying for brothers who really want to be employed again...to name a few of last week's samplings...that would be appropriate for me to chronicle. There is also a fill of the the inappropriate to write about. One either collapses under the cumulative weight of burden, or hope is renewed as you think about how God sent Jesus to restore paradise lost. That is what is coming. The first things will pass away (Revelation 21:4). I love Revelation 21:5, "Behold, I am making all things new." New heavens, new earth, the final great coming attraction. So time and again I find myself humming that happy song, celebrating joy's coming to the world. In particular the verse celebrating the arrest of sin and its resulting curse, and in its place the outbreak of an outrageous joy that will make all sorrow him seem but a trifle. Joy to the world, the Lord is coming! "I consider the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us", Romans 8:18. "This hope we have is an anchor to the soul", Hebrews 6:19. My mother in law does not allow any thievery of the honey baked ham before it is officially served at the appointed hour of the Christmas lunch. My style is to nibble at pieces of that delicacy, well before lunch. I love to rehearse what shall be and enjoy it ahead of time. I love to bring into the present, what I am going to experience more fully in the future. God is better than Helen. He urges us to nibble away and savor ahead of time all that will be ours in that world he is bringing in the renewal of all things. That's hope, importing into the present what will ultimately be realized in the future. Let's have a hopeful month and nibble at what's going to be and taste it ahead of time. Honey baked ham has nothing on our future hope in Jesus Christ. "O taste and see that the Lord is good," Psalm 34:8. "These are true words of God." Revelation 19:19 Hope Mon, 08 Feb 2010 00:10:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/2/8/Joy-To-The-Worldis-coming http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/1/14/My-Encounter-With-Texas-Longhorn-Football-circa-1980 As long as I have known Bruce McDonald, I have known a dear brother and mentor who has had his fingers in the stuff of some guy's heart promoting spiritual health through love and conversation. When he was a church planter in Austin, Texas he was next to the University of Texas football team in Bible Study, evangelism and discipleship. I joined a Spring break ministry team from Cedarville University in 1980 and we packed down to Dallas and enjoyed a week of ministry. Bruce asked me to lead the Bible study...at the football dorm for the University of Texas Longhorns. I thought of that great night back in 1980 watching the BCS championship game and pulling for Texas the other night (Ok, we lost! Go Tide!). I had not thought of it in a while. I planned the Bible Study trying to think of something that would capture their imagination and would be useful for them to think about. I was headed to be in front of a bunch of strong men. So off to Judges I went meticulously studying the life of Samson. Strength, temptation, indulgence and renewal were all themes I thought were relevant. Needless to say, I was a little nervous. Bruce and I drove over to campus. It was obvious that Bruce knew his way around, but the football dorm was a secure facility and you had to have access through a player that would come down and get you. We waited by the elevator once we arrived at the right building. I was a little tight as I stood next to the elevator door. The elevator door opened and a behemoth of a man got out and greeted Bruce. It was Kenneth Sims. He would go on to be awarded the Lombardi Award and UPI Lineman of the year award in his senior year in 1981. This All American was the first pick in the 1982 NFL draft. He was a tower of a man, six feet five and two hundred and seventy five pounds. It was all muscle and steel to me as I watched him get off of the elevator. We got in the elevator and I was even more nervous in the elevator with what was a very close encounter with a very big tough man. I was trying to think of something to ask to break the ice of conversation. Did I tell you that Kenneth had a baritone voice that was deep and resonate? Finally, breaking the silence, I took a stab. "Kenny, where are you from?" A short terse answer came right back and ended the attempt at conversation. "My name is Kenneth." I look at Bruce who was biting his lip. It was only later I found out that inside the guy was laughing his guts out at this nervous stiff on the elevator with...well, Mr. Sims. We went onto have a great study. They were very attentive and engaged. I was impressed. It was my first Bible Study that was punctuated by repeated expulsions which had a distinctive and oft heard sound into chew cups. You could not dare swallow that stuff, had to spit it out. Words, spit, drop. Words, spit, drop. The only other thing I was impressed with was their love for Bruce and attachment to his leadership. The guy has marked so many lives. Mr. Kenneth Sims brought us back down and we went to the car. My heart was full of gratitude to God for a great experience. Then we got in the car and my spirit was quenched, before we broke into laughter that when brought up is still enjoyed these thirty years later. Bruce broke the awkward silence in the car as I was savoring the evening with, "So Kenny, where are you from?" "My name is Kenneth." Our only hope for difference making is that God uses us in spite of ourselves. Let's all keep going...and whatever we do, let's get the names right! You Have To Laugh Once In A While Thu, 14 Jan 2010 21:34:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2010/1/14/My-Encounter-With-Texas-Longhorn-Football-circa-1980 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/12/18/Two-Foundations-In-Neighborhoods-Around-Orlando Jesus closed the Sermon on the Mount with his famous story of the two men who built their homes on different foundations. The wise man built his house upon the rock and the foolish man built his house upon the sand. The foolish man's home collapsed under the faulty foundation which would not stand the test of time and the elements of weather. The last words Jesus said in this famous sermon were in reference to the foolish man's house "...and great was its fall" Matthew 7:27. How tragic! Jesus, of course, is inviting men and women to build their lives upon the foundation of Himself. As the old hymn writer said, "that rock is Jesus." Jesus describes in the clearest of terms what happens in life. Eventually the sand foundations give way. But those founded on the rock, notwithstanding facing the same blows of the elements of life, survive and stand firm. Jesus Christ, what a firm foundation for life. Graphically, in recent days that whole story has been played out around one neighborhood in Orlando, Florida. It came into focus yesterday as I put Ben on a plane for Florida, but that is getting a bit ahead of the story. When our son Ben was growing up, we helped him develop his interest in golf. He was a part of two national Fellowship of Christian Athletes (FCA) golf camps in Florida in high school. What a great experience for him. He met some neat guys. He got some great instruction. TPC Sawgrass and the World Golf Hall of Fame complex are two venues that are not bad as well. Every night they engaged in worship and heard from the Word of God. Along the way, he met some really neat guys and gals. This year he played for Cedarville University. The speaker at the banquet before the National Christian College Athletic Association National Tournament in Florida was a friend Ben made at camp. Corky invited Ben to a special retreat which he is involved in right now. At another house in Orlando around the famous Isleworth Golf & Country Club is another household of another tour player. Unlike Tiger Woods, he does not garner $94,000,000 in endorsements per year. Although, 52nd on the career cumulative earnings list is not bad ($14,827,275). He has won eight times on the PGA Tour. Lee Janzen, two time U.S. Open Winner ('93 & '98), lives at home with his wife Beverly. He lives with his family in a neighborhood around Isleworth. From 1993 on, it has been a house founded upon the Rock. Lee came to place his faith in Jesus Christ, through his wife's encouragement and in part by watching the change in his buddy's life, Payne Stewart. Before Lee, Payne had begun to build his life upon the Rock!. What is Lee Janzen doing these days? Well, how about welcoming an FCA college golf retreat at your house...all 50 of them! Yes, college golfers from all over the Southeast United States who are involved in an FCA golf outreach. Lee is hosting the retreat with his family and they are using their means to call other men to build their lives upon that rock. Our Ben is having the time of his life right now. They are scheduled to play Isleworth as I am writing. Ben out there teeing it up with a bunch of D-1 golfers from the SEC and more. As I was reflecting upon the tragic consequences of the choices Tiger Woods has made (bar none the greatest golfer up to his age in golf), I think of another home and another family facing the consequences of their choices. But rather than facing the collapse of the house, they are reaping the spoils of a life invested on the Rock, Jesus Christ. They are in turn investing in other lives. I could not escape the irony of the two stories near the same neighborhood. One, a story of tragedy and collapse, the other a story of faith and life and hope and discipleship and joy. Maybe God will use this moment to call Tiger onto the Rock. That would be my hope. We are no where that the Rock cannot extract us from in redemption. He is the Lord who is a pardoning and redeeming God. But oh the spoils of a life lived on the Rock! You don't make TMZ and are not nearly as much in the headlines. But the house founded upon the Rock stands firm...as a tribute to the stability that comes to lives founded on that firm foundation. Yes, there is another story in Orlando around Isleworth this week. It is the story of a man of faith, Lee Janzen, pouring his life with others into young men who love golf. The press will not cover it. It will pass unnoticed, except by those men who will have their lives marked by three days of fun and laughter and camaraderie and golf and Bible Study and new beginnings. Who knows? Maybe several will come this very weekend to establish their lives upon the Rock. That is a part of its design. Keep going Lee! Your investments are making a real difference in the realm that really matters. Thanks for sharing your wealth and the wealth that comes in knowing and trusting and living upon, Jesus Christ our Lord...the Rock! "Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine, and acts upon them, may be compared to a wise man, who built his house upon the rock. And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and burst against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded upon the rock. And everyone who hears these words of Mine, and does not act upon them, will be like a foolish man, who built his house upon the sand. And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and burst against that house; and it fell, and great was its fall." Jesus Christ, Matthew 7:24-27. Good News Fri, 18 Dec 2009 11:31:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/12/18/Two-Foundations-In-Neighborhoods-Around-Orlando http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/12/5/Deer-Hunting-Metanarrative This year's deer gun season ends tomorrow. I have deer hunted off and on since I graduated from seminary. Mostly, it is a time to be with my dad. He was born up a hollow in South East Ohio in Pike County. We've been hunting up that hollow for years. But they sold the ground on which we hunted...and upon which my dad harvested a big twenty point buck in 1984. So in the last few years we have hunted around home, definitely a different hunting than the hills of South East Ohio. Actually, I am a terrible hunter, but do not mind being in the woods. My temperament is not built for deer hunting. I am kinetic and have to move. Deer hunting is sitting and waiting them out. Then I get so fired up when I see a deer, I always shoot too early or cannot keep my composure in a calculated way to finish the deal. I have even missed on kill shots. Somehow, at least I have harvested four deer. I have blown it on one monster who when I missed on the first shot, wheeled and ran right at me...the second shot I missed at ten yards...at least the sound scared him. But now me, I come away with big stories, not deer. In honor of gun season and deer hunting week, I must share my most outrageous day in the woods. When living in Michigan, I was invited to hunt on a friend's jag of land. He was on about five acres-plus with a great majority of it in woods. An apple orchard was in the back...which the deer took as an opportunity for appetizers. I decided I would lodge under a huge beech tree about seventy five yards from the apple orchard. I was there an hour before daylight and super alert for about the first fifteen minutes. I did not see anything until 10:30 a.m. When a hunter about three hundred yards away was walking toward my haven, I squeezed off a hail Mary shot at a doe running away from me in the other field. At least that guy knew I was there. At noon, I left the tub I was sitting on under the big tree. I arrived at lunch where a veritable Thanksgiving venison dinner was on at my buddy's house. I ate a ton, when was a real mistake. When I arrived back at the stand at 2:30 P.M, I was tired. I decided I would not go under the tree and sit on the tub. It was a dark day and the shadows were cast large as what little light existed was interrupted by the big boughs which inhibited the light. I sat in the tall grass which was up to my head in height. Then, I fell off into a fast sleep. Who knows what woke me up, but I opened my eyes about 2:45 pm to see a buck staring straight at me...from five feet away. We stared at each other motionless for what seemed to be a half hour, but in reality it was probably twenty seconds. I gently squeezed off my safety. It clicked and he bolted. It was if someone had hit him in the butt with a bull shocker. I dumped all five shots at him as he raced off with that characteristic John Deere icon mesmerizing cadence. That was six shots in. I spent the next two hours hating on myself and replaying that encounter from five feet. Deer hunting is actually terrible boredom, interrupted by seconds of outrageous euphoria. I am not good at focus in euphoria. At 4:30 P.M., the same deer came limping back toward me about one hundred and ten yards away. Apparently, I had grazed his front right leg. That tall six point deer was favoring that leg. His antlers were almost bright grey-white (my buddy Bruce actually later found one side of the antlers shed in his woods. I have it in my basement window pane right now). I shot at him again when he was too far away. He left. If you are counting that is now seven shots. Don't stop reading, there are eight more shots. An hour before that day's hunt was over we encountered each other for one last time. By this time, I had moved forward from my stand to very near the orchard. Sure enough he came down the perimeter fence row behind the orchard. I had the advantage of seeing him before he saw me. In a cold and calculated way (which makes it all the more ridiculous) I deliberated carefully, all five shots as he walked down the fence row trying to figure out where I was. I was in the weeds in the prone position. I reached into my pocket to reload. I only had four more shots. Each step he was now actually closer to me. Patience should have dictated that I wait until a more opportune time to pull the trigger. I was yanking way early. I crawled through the weeds and sought the opportunity to get closer yet. Notwithstanding some very serious calculation, including a long pause of concentration on the last shot, having crawled for forty yards through the weeds for the last shot, I missed on my last shot. The great irony was that the more that I shot at this deer, the more his body seemed to be infused with health. I wanted to beat the deer with my gun when I discharged my last cap. It was done. The deer had won. He ran off flawlessly, I had the distinct impression, while smiling. It was falling dark as I walked back to my car. When I got up to the house, I ran into Peg. She inquired about whether I had got anything. I told her, "No, I did not." Her reply was classic and a fitting commentary on the day. She said, "All day it sounded like Vietnam was going on back there." Fifteen shots later, I guess that was an apt response. Vietnam! I have been a guide for Dad this week on a couple of mornings. We had fun this morning just being together. But I fear my proclivity to blow it in hunting was projected onto Dad. Six grey ghosts came into us this morning. Well, let me just say, the guide was casting a long shadow over the hunt. Dad, a great marksman, did what I have done for years-scared several deer with loud sounds. But it sure made 8:15 this morning an exciting few seconds...and was a good break from the routine. Misc Sat, 05 Dec 2009 17:37:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/12/5/Deer-Hunting-Metanarrative http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/10/30/No-Sweat The stories coming out of Sedona are tragic. Several people have died in James Arthur Ray's spiritual retreat ceremony of the "Sweat Lodge". One of Oprah's gurus is in deep weeds. Three are now dead having paid a reported $9695 dollars to come to the "spiritual warrior" event. Nineteen of the sixty-three people involved in the ceremony were hospitalized. They were seeking cleansing. The way to purity was through the experience of the retreat which culminated in the Sweat Lodge ceremony where all impurities were released from the body. A channeler, reportedly brought in by Ray's organization, explained that the dead were having so much fun in their out of body experience "they just never came back". What is it about us? How could sane and reasonable people get to this? We collectively all seem to have this restlessness about our selves. We want resolution. The self help racks seem to be recession proof. We all have a sense that something is wrong and needs fixed. We need cleansed, purged from pasts we'd like to redo. The predicament is so dire, there seems to be no limit on what we might do to face it. Ten thousand dollars and a death-trap hot tent (a mix of a Native American spirituality and New Age visions of cleansing) are not prohibitive. C.S. Lewis said that we are created with a God-shaped void that we constantly fill with everything else. Nothing fits and we come back time and again to that sense of estrangement we have with our selves and with each other. We entertain that nagging suspicion that someone is at home in the universe and something is not right that needs fixed. We love credit and love to earn everything the old Smith-Barney way. That is why things that we can do to cleanse ourselves and get right are our preference. We can do it our way. It affirms our own esteem and grooms our pride. In the end, we die being our own savior. How foreign such ideas are from the Good News offered to us in the Bible! God came near to our sinful and estranged lot in Jesus Christ. He invites us to embrace by faith what he accomplished in taking up our sin and dying our deserved death. The grace extended to us at Calvary now opens the way for purity, given to us as a gift, one not earned or deserved. "By grace we have been saved" (Ephesians 2:8-9). To shed guilt and grip grace and hope (Easter) is to restart our lives anew-a life on completely different footing. Who would not like liberation from a haunting past? What about a fresh start with our Creator? Deep down many crave a peace that settles over all of life. "Let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost." (Revelation 22:17). It's no sweat. It's his blood! The benefits are open to all of us, free and without cost. Good News Fri, 30 Oct 2009 14:26:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/10/30/No-Sweat http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/10/16/Gods-Family-Abroad I just returned from twelve days abroad with God%u219s people. There is nothing that is quite like the refreshment of being with the body of Christ all over the globe. There is unique encouragement in the experience. This trip was no exception. Leaving US soil is good for making you appreciate the greatness of our country, but even that evident conviction is nothing in comparison to the immediate affinity with brothers and sisters who are a part of God%u219s family in all pockets of this globe. They are a delight to be with and can teach American Christians much about what it means to authentically follow Christ. South Africa is a diverse world with many different ethnic sectors making up the varied fabric of South African culture. The Zulus are the dominant native African tribe and the largest of the three major tribal groups indigenous to South Africa. The Afrikaners are the English and European settlers who have been here for a long time. They are primarily of German and Dutch descent. Throw in the Indians who were brought here as slave labor a while back and you add another rich layer of culture and diversity. Many Indians have done quite well in South Africa. Of course, there are Chinese, who are every where in the world these days with brilliant people cutting deals with money and brain power to harvest resources for China%u219s developing culture and life. They are joined by a few Japanese here to make for quite a mix of Asians here in South Africa. Now that is a mix. I think I was told that there are eleven dominant languages in South Africa. And how on earth could all of those peoples ever get on given this history, sordid as it is with Apartheid and ell else? Enter the genius of God in forming this new humanity through the second Adam in the body of Christ. Yes, the church in South Africa shows the only hope for this fragmented culture. What a thrill to be with God%u219s people there and to experience the fabric of the culture of the church%u226where all of those cultures are coming together under the commonness of faith in Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the hope for our globe to move the fragmented and estranged of the world on to the New Jerusalem. Then onto Jordan in the Middle East and to the story of a different kind of church altogether. Ninety seven percent of the country is Muslim. Three percent of the country is loosely defined as Christian, that would include the Orthodox Church and the Roman Catholic Church. But the rich luster to the evangelical church in Jordan sticks out like a single rose. The joy they have and share is fascinating. Spending time with them reminds me of what true hope is and they have much to teach us about how to live in the midst of pressure and repression. Their sense is that they are on the verge of God doing something very special in their day. Such faith was an insult to my own. All over this globe God has an amazing family. They have much to teach American followers of Jesus about joy, perseverance and pressure. There is nothing like a trip abroad to clean out your categories and get your vision out of the routine and the mundane. What a great experience to share company with those whom the world is not worthy. Maybe they are just shy of such a Hebrews 11 standard, but certainly unworthy of our unbelieving and skeptical world. God%u219s people stir my faith, enlarge my heart and call me to stretch myself out on God%u219s promise and keep digging for his glory in all of my pursuits. Surrounded by this cloud of global witnesses%u226let%u219s keep going! The Church: The Body of Christ Fri, 16 Oct 2009 22:44:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/10/16/Gods-Family-Abroad http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/10/16/Gods-Family-Abroad I just returned from twelve days abroad with God's people. There is nothing that is quite like the refreshment of being with the body of Christ all over the globe. There is unique encouragement in the experience. This trip was no exception. Leaving US soil is good for making you appreciate the greatness of our country, but even that evident conviction is nothing in comparison to the immediate affinity with brothers and sisters who are a part of God's family in all pockets of this globe. They are a delight to be with and can teach American Christians much about what it means to authentically follow Christ. South Africa is a diverse world with many different ethnic sectors making up the varied fabric of South African culture. The Zulus are the dominant native African tribe and the largest of the three major tribal groups indigenous to South Africa. The Afrikaners are the English and European settlers who have been here for a long time. They are primarily of German and Dutch descent. Throw in the Indians who were brought here as slave labor a while back and you add another rich layer of culture and diversity. Many Indians have done quite well in South Africa. Of course, there are Chinese, who are every where in the world these days with brilliant people cutting deals with money and brain power to harvest resources for China's developing culture and life. They are joined by a few Japanese here to make for quite a mix of Asians here in South Africa. Now that is a mix. I think I was told that there are eleven dominant languages in South Africa. And how on earth could all of those peoples ever get on given this history, sordid as it is with Apartheid and ell else? Enter the genius of God in forming this new humanity through the second Adam in the body of Christ. Yes, the church in South Africa shows the only hope for this fragmented culture. What a thrill to be with God's people there and to experience the fabric of the culture of the church...where all of those cultures are coming together under the commonness of faith in Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the hope for our globe to move the fragmented and estranged of the world on to the New Jerusalem. Then onto Jordan in the Middle East and to the story of a different kind of church altogether. Ninety seven percent of the country is Muslim. Three percent of the country is loosely defined as Christian, that would include the Orthodox Church and the Roman Catholic Church. But the rich luster to the evangelical church in Jordan sticks out like a single rose. The joy they have and share is fascinating. Spending time with them reminds me of what true hope is and they have much to teach us about how to live in the midst of pressure and repression. Their sense is that they are on the verge of God doing something very special in their day. Such faith was an insult to my own. All over this globe God has an amazing family. They have much to teach American followers of Jesus about joy, perseverance and pressure. There is nothing like a trip abroad to clean out your categories and get your vision out of the routine and the mundane. What a great experience to share company with those whom the world is not worthy. Maybe they are just shy of such a Hebrews 11 standard, but certainly unworthy of our unbelieving and skeptical world. God's people stir my faith, enlarge my heart and call me to stretch myself out on God's promise and keep digging for his glory in all of my pursuits. Surrounded by this cloud of global witnesses...let's keep going! The Church: The Body of Christ Fri, 16 Oct 2009 22:30:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/10/16/Gods-Family-Abroad http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/9/15/We-Need-More-Like-Him He is seventy seven. He is still sprinting in that great race of following Jesus. Oh, he can't really sprint anymore and, in fact, has walked with a hitch in his gate for years after an accident at work. I love that guy. His name is Bruce. He buried his wife in the last year. But he is still going. But there is a reason why. He is just keeping up an old habit. He and his wife sprinted all of their days. Their sprinting of choice was investing into other people's lives. They made friends for the kingdom out of their kitchen with Bruce's pancakes and that Maple Syrup he had boiled down in his sugar bush. Those Michigan Hard Maples are all right. He and his wife were always simple folks with a deep faith in Jesus, just always investing in others. Every fall we would pack the car and head out to their home with our kids. We would go back to the Apple Orchard and pick some apples and come up and drink some warm cider and eat a hot dog; never sophisticated, but always affectionate. I hunted squirrel with my kids in the woods and hunted deer in his woods. In fact, I broke the world record for most shots without results on the first day of dear season in '92 or '93, I can't remember which. I shot sixteen times without success, once from about ten feet when I woke up to see a nice buck staring at me. I would have set a better record if it were not for the fact that I ran out of slugs. Peg said it sounded as if a war had started back there. The three of us laughed so about the whole thing. I got Bruce into the act after retirement. Then he joined me in missing the opportunities of harvest. He could not hit them either. In the Summer time I lived off of the spoils of their garden and rhubarb. Sharing was second nature and their high joy. They were always investing in people. Five trees survive in my yard from the woods. Bruce and Peg brought them down and we planted them. Bruce and I mudded them in one night and five have survived. They remind us of their generosity. Just to keep them in the loop of our family eight years after we had left their area, we sent along Caleb's graduation announcement. We were stunned when they pulled into the open house....five and half hours down, two hours there, five and a half hours back. That is Bruce-just another happy day of investment. It was no surprise then when Bruce called me and asked for lodging. Yes, it was lodging for four. At seventy seven Bruce was continuing his investments in senior high boys. One in particular he had tracked with since childhood. Poor kid has had it rough. His dad was not around for a while and Bruce took up the slack and kept investing and inviting him into the race. Bruce thought it would be great to bring them down for a day at the Creation Museum. On they came. We had a great time together for a few hours. Bruce was beaming with joy to invest in these lives. He was telling us about how God was at work revealing himself to these young men. He got up, kind of limped to his car and took off down the road. He called me later to say they had an outrageous day of fun and learning and challenge. Some day Bruce will be gone. The body of Christ will be lesser. We need guys like Bruce who live simply and invest themselves in others. I find so few in their seventies like Bruce. May their tribe increase! Bruce has been a great blessing to our family. He and his wife loved us and loved our children. Those are great gifts...that we all can afford and which pay such rich dividends. I can hear it now over the balcony, "This is my beloved son, Bruce, in him I am well pleased." He'll limp home someday and enjoy forever those relationships that he and wife sought to cultivate in God's family for all their days. Keep going buddy! We need more of you and your investments! Shout Outs Tue, 15 Sep 2009 11:42:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/9/15/We-Need-More-Like-Him http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/8/14/The-57th-Game In the summer of 1941 with the country newly out of a tough decade of depression, baseball held a captivating pursuit. On May 15th Joe DiMaggio started his now infamous fifty six game hitting streak. A grand streak it was! After all of these years, it has never been equaled. Pete Rose made a run in 1978. But it was not to be...he fell twelve games short. His forty four games seem a gulf apart from the magical 56 games of DiMaggio from '41. But in life, there is always the 57th game. The Yanks were in Cleveland's League Park. It took what veteran sportswriter Peter Gammons has called "a pair of remarkable fielding plays by third baseman Ken Keltner in the 57th game to stop DiMaggio." What must he have felt like in the locker room in Cleveland after the game? The great streak was over. He must have felt a bit like I feel today. I am in the library at Cedarville University writing. Andi and I dropped off our daughter at Cedarville this morning. Greeting us was an Army of volunteers (including President Bill Brown, no less!) to help us get her stuff carried in. We pulled up and made piles in her room as she awaited her roommate from a great family in Lansing, Michigan. And so tonight after the Alumni dinner, Andi and I will go home to the locker room after the 57th game, or more like the house; now without kids, after a long and storied run that delighted both of our hearts. Twenty four Augusts ago, God gave us a little boy. As of July of '09, that little boy is a married man (to the delightful Emily Alexander Mounts who now competes with me for email addresses that start with "emounts"). Ben is in his apartment readying for his fourth year at Cedarville. Now Abbey, our baby, is deployed. The consecutive streak of months with kids in the house ends at 288! For the last 8,753 days we have had kids in the house. Tonight we'll go home...and there will be no kids. Wow! I remember back when I was washing out a bad cloth diaper of Caleb's in the porcelain stool, the redeeming thought that got me through was that I had a finite number of dirty diapers to wash out. I knew it would not last...and it didn't (by the way, neither did our resolve to stick with cloth diapers. Ben and Abb were all disposable! I lost the debate. :) To every young mom slugging it out (our associate pastor just had his third girl yesterday...the oldest is not four), take courage...it passes ever so quickly. How we have relished the days nurturing our children. They are the best three kids you could know. Our toughest days of parenting have been the envy of every other parent. "Big" things like small mishaps in the driveway backing out, a couple of holes in the wall, lost things and a breach in curfew...was it once or was it twice? It was mostly a long incredible stream of delight. We have laughed our way around the table for years. Abbey is like an IV of the comedy channel...you know, a sanctified comedy channel. She will be sorely missed, though my self image will probably remain in greater tack. She's the best...daughter. Now I have a knot in my throat and if I thought it would do any good, I could probably sit here and cry, but how would that help? Lynn Brock would call security on the catatonic man downstairs in the Library who just broke down. It would just embarrass Andi as I was transported out to some mental health unit for some drug induced much needed sleep for a few days. That would make it worse. Someone told me recently that the first half of life is full of exhilarating beginnings while the second half is full of unwelcomed ends, some of which hurt. So, I follow Joe DiMaggio. After a great run, one that Andi and I are deeply grateful to God for, we'll look for that next run that God will start. DiMaggio started another hitting streak on that 58th game (no, no, Andi and I are not going to become pregnant). He hit safely in the next sixteen games. That meant that he hit safely in 72 of 73 games in a row in that famed season of '41. We are embracing this next season that God has brought. We are going to recover some time (a commodity in short supply during the labor intensity of child rearing). We are going to start a new streak today, one we hope will be deeply honoring to Him who loved us and gave Himself for us. You pray to the end that we might know of His leadership in investing our hours and days in redemptive pursuits that would be met with His richest blessing...which is what the last 210,072 hours has felt like...rich, rich blessing. Thank you Lord! Family Fri, 14 Aug 2009 15:13:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/8/14/The-57th-Game http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/7/15/Hold-To-Gods-Unchanging-Hand My preacher grandfather had his own free Pentecostal style. His idea of anticipating a worship service was to improvise as you go along. He would get up and look out and see who was there and proceed accordingly. In a way it was like I Corinthians 14, one with a song, another a prayer, another a testimony. But in a way it was like a busy subway stop in Lower Manhattan at rush hour...random chaos. How I remember the nights Grandpa would get up and call upon Brother Art and Sister Piney Peters. Isn't that a great name? Piney Peters. I believe she is still going, Art having past on to his eternal reward. They were not stellar singers, but they were stellar lovers of Jesus. Grandpa would call upon them and ready or not, they would come up and sing. Usually their song started with a brief report of something God was pointing out to them in their walk with him. They would start to sing and only God was fully aware of what key they would be singing in. My mom would try to chase them down with her playing by ear at the piano or organ to join in the fray. After several tries she could usually locate them in the neighborhood of their key. They had a few numbers in their small repertoire. "He Is Still Passing Along This Way Today" was one. Another one was a great old hymn entitled "Hold To God's Unchanging Hand". Finally, the old staple "In A Land Where We'll Never Grow Old". Hope has always been worth singing about. Dealing with another brother who has lost his job in these economic times in the last week has brought me back to one of brother Art and sister Piney's great old songs, Hold To God's Unchanging Hand. I remembered the song's lyrics trying to encourage a dear one who just had been smashed at work. The lyrics make self evident why I would have thought of that song. Great advice for living! Let's all "Hold To God's Unchanging Hand". Time is filled with swift transition Naught of earth unmoved can stand Build your hopes on things eternal Hold to God's unchanging hand Trust in Him who will not leave you Whatsoever years may bring If by earthly friends forsaken Still more closely to Him cling Covet not this world's vain riches That so rapidly decay Seek to gain the heav'nly treasures They will never pass away Chorus Hold to God's unchanging hand Hold to God's unchanging hand Build your hopes on things eternal Hold to God's unchanging hand Often as sister Piney would finish she would be blessed and have to shout a little. I used to be impatient with such carryings on. I view it differently now. Her soul was captured by eternal truths which can transcend the toughest of temporal times. Remember, Paul had it right. It is momentary light affliction preceding a far greater and eternal weight of glory! Piney was on to it when she would let out with a holy "Wew!" on her way back down to her pew. Yes, that's right. Let's all hold to God's unchanging hand...all through these economic times! Devotional Wed, 15 Jul 2009 22:15:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/7/15/Hold-To-Gods-Unchanging-Hand http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/6/13/A-New-Book-on-Jonathan-Edwards I took some time off this past week to try to catch my breath in between a high school graduation, a college graduation a wedding in three weeks and the celebration of my half-a-hundred birthday. I had pre-ordered a book I saw at a conference in April. It is the book entitled Jonathan Edwards and the Ministry of the Word. It is written about one of my heroes by one of my mentors. Let me explain. Since 1989 I have been reading stuff about the work of God in the soul of man to save him. I have sought to understand what others have written about regeneration and conversion. The trail has inevitably led to books about Jonathan Edwards. Everyone trying to understand the salvation of the soul inevitably is led to Edwards' writings. He mediated an outpouring of the work of God in New England in the early to mid 1700s. Historians look back on this period and call it the "Great Awakening". I have found no one with more provoking things to say about God's work bringing men to himself. He wrote a lot. I am still trying to recover from what I have read. The Yale edition of his Awakening Writings and his Religious Affection are two of the most influential things I have ever read. Sometimes reading things out of our time period can give one a fresh insight into our time. I have found that true in Edwards. When I finished my DMin degree at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield, Illinois I had to connect with a faculty member to mentor me through research and analysis on a final project. The program director had told me about Doug Sweeney. Doug had come to the history department at Trinity to work next to a brilliant colleague in John Woodbridge. Doug had been for several years a part of the Jonathan Edwards Works project at Yale University. Their office is in the Divinity School at Yale. After his PhD work at Vanderbilt he took up this station for a few years and joined a small cadre of scholars who were laboring to thoughtfully publish and edit the works of Jonathan Edwards. He wrote so much and the work was carried on at such a level that the project lasted for over forty years of publishing. Doug is brilliant. But what I most appreciate about him is that he is a humble Christ-follower deeply committed to ministry. But that was Edwards, so what should we expect? Inter Varsity press just published Jonathan Edwards and the Ministry of the Word. The subtitle is "A Model of Faith and Thought". The book includes a well written narrative of his life that is quite readable. It is very well written and reads like a good story. Doug is a good writer. He may have got that naturally from his father who used to edit books for Moody Press. He worked with Joe Stowell in his first book on taming the tongue, (if I have my story right) from a group of messages that he originally worked up in some embryonic form while pasturing at Southgate. The book's footnotes are a treasure trove of invaluable bibliographic insight into the life, thought and ministry of Jonathan Edwards. As the title says, the book traces Edwards' commitment to the ministry of the Word for his days. It was a characteristic that defined him. Edwards loved the Word and ministered with a Biblically saturated vision of life and thought. Edwards is a wonderful model of a pastor-theologian. He loved Christ and sought him passionately. He loved the Lord with his entire mind and worked hard to equip his mind to think well and live accordingly. He is a great model of not spinning out in one side or the other. His was a ministry pregnant with both mind and heart. I found the book a great encouragement to read and a provoking challenge to stay at a ministry defined by and saturated in the speech of God. The book is very attractive and a really good readable introduction to his life and thought, Edwards, America's greatest theologian. Watch for Sweeney's stuff, it is worth your while. Just Reading Sat, 13 Jun 2009 23:01:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/6/13/A-New-Book-on-Jonathan-Edwards http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/5/10/Abbeys-Peom Our daughter is graduating from high school in a few weeks. She is our baby. We have made a graduation announcement and published it before a reception in their honor for each of our children. In it I write a poem in which I try to capture a bit of their life and growing up. Here I am publishing Abbey's poem which will go into the mail this week. Here is some background detail that may help you read the poem. She was born in Sparrow Hospital in Lansing, Michigan. At two she lost her front tooth. The dear one broke a lot of bones growing up. She came to follow Jesus Christ at five years old after I read her the story of famed Phoebe Bartlett who came to Christ as a five year old during the Great Awakening back in Jonathan Edwards' day (1730's). It was after hearing Edwards' account of her conversion that Abbey came to follow Christ in placing her faith in Him. She is fiercely loyal to her brothers. But Caleb sometimes shoots her with his air assault pistol, which is the equivalent of an indoor bb gun with rubber pellets. Her best friend has related to her...for eighteen years. They were reared together and have spent hours together. They went to Florida to be with Claire's grandparents one Spring break. They liked to never have arrived home with cancelled flights coming north. She has always messed with us about her middle name, arguing that it should have been "Joy". The girl has a personality that will not quit. She loves to travel. God was gracious to let our family travel to Europe in 2003. She had the beverage cart thing down. She would awakened from dead sleep to arise to the occasion for meals, pop, or any refreshments. As she grew up she called us "rollers", we rolled out west twice for two week jaunts that were crazy long...driving. She prefers to fly. Here is her poem. What a delight it has been to be her father as she was growing up. In early Spring of '91 Our streak of boys Their end did run A girl, 'twas so And Abbey came Thereafter all was not the same What delight, what zest to living Would we have missed If God wasn't so giving A Lansing birth come in a Sparrow A band width of humor That's been everything but narrow O sure, tooth knocked out And bones a broken Forged a personality that's no small token At five with Phoebe She felt Christ lead'n With Him to go a back to Eden A love to go and travel A flyer looking beverage carts to see Albeit born to a "roller" family...? A friend for life in a girl named Claire A mountain of memories And one spring break of particular flair A deep love for her two brothers A loyalty most fair One even persevering through air assault cares A coach-Mom for softball, life and ladiness A special bond with Dad "33" is her number in which to be clad Though it wasn't Nels We missed with Linn But we know now what we didn't then To finish off God brought a girl She came after those two great boys And she indeed has filled our joys So Abigail Joy is right! Family Sun, 10 May 2009 23:27:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/5/10/Abbeys-Peom http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/4/3/Jesus-Death-and-Bobs-Sorrows "Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows he carried..." Isaiah 53:4 We are on the cusp of Passion Week! Good Friday is a week out. As we approach this day which lives in the infamy of our consciences because of what it accomplished, many of our thoughts are drawn to Calvary. Christ's death accomplished everything that God intended. One of his intents was the bearing of our grief and sorrow. Wow! What a load to bear. The world is full of hurting people. Take my friend Bob. To have mercy upon my pall bearers and create margin in my life to think, I walk five times a week. It is five of the best hours of my week. Thirty minutes of thinking and a thirty minute prayer walk. Ok, I pick up some ditch trash too. But, anyway, along the way you get to know the neighborhood. It is fun to connect. Isabella is impersonating Marley down the road, just a pup. Leroy, I've dubbed him the mayor of Petre Road, is out each morning with the funniest quips on each pass. Jim drives by with discipline and his methodical deliberate manner each morning and of course his gentle wave. Some mornings Kirk is going to work. He'll stop and we share prayer requests. Jimmie is usually at work unless he is in his yard on a Saturday. I've known "big Ab" since the 5th grade. Laurie usually runs by with her dog. Maybe that is why deep down I began to give up running...I do not want the woman preacher down the road lapping me! Digg'ems kids are waiting on the bus and Mr. T is out checking on the paper. Then there's Bob. Bob walks with his buddy on good days. I can tell that they both love each other. The shaggy golden lab looks happy as they walk. He is working in his seventies. He is always warm and friendly to me. He walks with a little hitch in his gitty-up, but it works. I have always found him so pleasant. Sustained small talk is growing larger. I found out Bob worked with Dad at International Harvester Trucks, or Navistar or whatever it is or was. They golf on the same day now. He'll drive by and stop and chat or just slow down and wave. I've noticed that the dog rides shotgun to Bob...even if his wife is along. I have not met her. We got some neat invitations printed up for our Easter worship at Southgate. I put one in my coat pocket and thought of inviting Bob and his wife to worship. I had the privilege to invite him and give him the invitation the other morning. It was a characteristic jovial exchange, but I learned something about Bob. He is hurting and going through the storm of his life. This old broken world is full of Bobs. His dear wife is facing Alzheimer's Disease. He graciously received the invitation, then told me about his morning. He got her up and bathed her and got her dressed. She then had to go to the bathroom, but the disease has taken her wits about her and she forgot to undress to make it all work. So Bob was into another rendition of the bathe and clothe routine. That was his morning already. It was nine o'clock. I do not know him well, but he sure seems to me to be honoring his wedding vows. The other thing that strikes me is that Bob is hurting and this is sorrowful. Into this world of care, God Himself came in Jesus Christ. It was a world full of care, reeling from the effects of sin-a world convulsing and waiting to be redeemed. Sure Jesus died on the cross for our sins. He was our substitute. "He was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement for our peace fell upon Him. By his stripes we are healed." Isaiah 53:5. Sure all that is vital and central to the meaning of the cross and the hope of the gospel. But in addition, Isaiah suggests that God's love was also manifested in his participation in our suffering. Jesus was way out in front of the brokenness of this world, Alzheimer's and all. He was facing the awful carnage brought on by sin's entrance and bearing its weight too in this act that brought redemption. He has carried Bob's sorrows. He has borne his griefs. He loves Bob. Way ahead of the sad ending to Bob's wife's life, he participated in the grief and bore it at Calvary. I don't get it all, but what I get, I like. I am still pondering it. Oh yes, "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8. That is first. But God, in his loving genius was completing redemption's plan in other ways. He bore our sin and our sorrows. This one acquainted with grief was, among other things, acquainted with our griefs, yeah and he bore them. I wonder if Bob knows how deeply his Creator loves him. I wonder if he knows that Christ died in his place so he could be forgiven. I wonder if he knows how pleased God is with his faithfulness to his wife. I wonder if he knows that God is noticing. I wonder if Bob knows God has already entered into his sorrows. God's love for us is manifested in different forms. I wonder if Bob has any idea of the encouragement it is to have God invade our suffering with his presence. I wonder if Bob knows God is inviting him into a relationship with him. I wonder if Bob knows anything about the pardoning love of our Creator God who could not love us more! I want to find out. I want Bob to know that after Good Friday and Aslan's death on the Stone Table, Narnia is beginning to thaw out! The curse has been broken. Some day soon it will be evident to all and bring joy...as far as the curse is found. "No more let sin and sorrow grow, nor thorn infest the ground, He comes to make his blessing known, as far as the curse is found!" "It is finished!" John 19:30 Hope Fri, 03 Apr 2009 21:10:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/4/3/Jesus-Death-and-Bobs-Sorrows http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/3/14/On-Using-Words "The preacher sought to find out acceptable words; and that which was written was upright, even words of truth. The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies, which are given from one shepherd. And further, by these my son, be admonished:" Ecclesiastes 12:10-12 The garage tools of a preacher are words. We seek to craft them in such a way as to enchant and delight the listener and smuggle unwittingly (for the resistant) the commodity (truth) right to the point of need. To the compliant listener, the work of communicating is less difficult. Their love for the truth leads them to a predisposed trust of the substance of what you are trying to communicate to them. A few of them can keep you going. Communication is tough. The days are now gone (from Colonial times) when the preacher's voice was the dominant influence in the community. Now we face what one has called the "ubiquity of communication" in the media. There are a lot of word-competitors out there. For years we have been able to hear hours of preaching every day on the radio and now, we can go 24/7 with podcasts of everyone on the internet. And that is just preaching. There is talk radio and anything you want to hear on the internet...all the time. There are cable news networks with ceaseless repetitions of breaking news in real time...moment by moment contact with stories and uninterrupted analysis of what is going on. Go to the internet and watch whatever TV you want and missed. Or, go to Best Buy and get the whole season. Watch 24 in real time...and then go for therapy! Who said we could not drink out of a fire house? Although, some are identifying new disorders of separation from ourselves that are breaking out in this sea of information that we are unable to reasonably process at all. But that is for people who are actually giving a little time for reflection. Who has time to even think any more? The prudent are giving time to such a discipline. There is nothing like the power of unplugging for an hour and thinking about what we just heard. But that is for another blog. I love words. I love the vocabulary of the English language. Words fascinate me. Who knows why? Maybe it started in college when J. Don Jennings told me about devouring each month's Reader's Digest word list as a boy growing up in West Virginia. You are not supposed to use words like that if you are from West Virginia, are you? By the way, you can only say that if you have some origin from the great mountaineer state. My people are originally from Mingo. I love that. Some of you who have heard my subject verb agreement and listened to tortured grammar can now say, "We'll that explains a lot." I love their simplicity and affection for family and hard work. There is nothing quite like their lives devoid of our complexities. But I have been working for years trying to recover from Appalachian English which has nuanced rules you just pick up by osmosis listening to the Elders. Early on, I thought it all hung on words. I am getting over that a bit. I still work very hard (and I love the work) to communicate. With a prideful heart, you conclude it all depends upon your words. With godly perspective, you come to understand that in spite of you (the vessel), God uses His powerful Words to pierce the darkness of our hearts. I still work hard to make my communication clear and directed to needs in our heart. But it is not being cute that matters. I remember a few years ago D.A. Carson, a brilliant New Testament scholar at Trinity Seminary, wrote on a sermon outline I submitted to him, "Cute, but without substance." That was good for me. Cute can never pass for substance. In the end it is not "enticing words of man wisdom" (I Corinthians 2:4). It is still the demonstration of the Spirit of God's presence with power. While reaching for clarity, I lean into the Spirit of God desiring His authenticating passion. Jesus Christ and Him crucified. What else do we need to communicate? The Good News certainly does not need any of my jet fuel added on! But on we communicator's go. In college when I would speak on campus I most usually would conclude it was awful and go to my dorm room horribly defeated. I would retreat to the solace of going to bed and pulling the sheets up over my head and hiding from the faces I could still see in my mind's eye who were stabbing me with eyes that seemed to say, or so I was convinced, "This is some of the worst stuff I have ever heard." My roommate Drew would come in and find me in the fetal position under the covers and gently ask, "Ok Mounts, who did you speak to on campus today?" He already knew my sense of how it went before asking. I am still am convinced that my judgment was not that far off in college. We still laugh about using the "sheeties" for such retreat. But on we speaker's go using words. By now I have matured a bit in my perspective. These days, I just lay in bed on Sunday nights and laugh at ridiculous missteps I have made. I lie there picking out pieces of my Johnson and Murphy's that lie lodged between my teeth. If you dental floss with titanium cable, you can get those parts of your shoes out from between your teeth before you go to sleep on Sunday nights. Last Sunday as the service closed one of our Elders approached me about a plumbing emergency we had going on in the building. It closed down virtually all of the bathrooms in one section of our building. I was to give instructions about a select group of available bathrooms. My mind was racing. We were at the close. It is always difficult to call God's people to a summing response, followed immediately with instructions about which bathrooms were available. I was going to have to use a series of unpremeditated words of instruction. Racing off in thought, I got up and opened my mouth...communicating, kind of. International travel and speaking has taught me how closely I am tied to colloquial popular speech and metaphor in the current American context. Desiring to end positively and yet wedge this bathroom announcement in, I took off...spinning and crafting words. Clearly, we experienced a train wreck when I identified the available bathrooms with the concluding instructions that these bathrooms were "good to go". "Good to go", what kind of speech is that in relation to available water closets? What idiot conceived of such expression? It was me! The place erupted in deserving laughter...yes, laughing at me. I joined in. So now when I get into the "sheeties" on Sunday nights, I no longer hide in the fetal position. Some Sundays I feel the same way I did back in college. But I have made an ounce of progress to realize that communicating God's truth is a miracle. The miracle is that God uses weak vessels. The story of Balaam's Ass has always carried obvious encouragements to me. God speaks through His Word. He uses the likes of me to speak. It is more of a glorious witness of God's greatness that is flows through such cracked pots. So on it goes. I'll use some more words tomorrow. Then I'll come home and then I'll go to bed and know that whatever was accomplished was not because I was cute or even substantial, but that God speaks in His word and when united with faith it powerfully transforms the hearer...a transformation that is the ultimate apology for the usefulness of the communicator. "Man does not live by bread alone. But by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God." Matthew 4:4. "For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified." I Corinthians 2:2 You Have To Laugh Once In A While Sat, 14 Mar 2009 09:06:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/3/14/On-Using-Words http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/2/24/Harold-Hoehner-On-Cambridge-Scholarship-Potty-Training--Leaving-A-Legacy About ten days ago Harold Hoehner died. He was my professor at Dallas Theological Seminary. As I understand, after his morning jog, he experienced a cardiac event and went to heaven rather abruptly. This New Testament Scholar and director of PhD studies at Dallas was seventy four. It made me realize that as I stumble onto fifty years of age those who have gone on before me in previous generations begin to pass off of the scene. Again, "we're it!" surrounds my conscience in something with much greater stakes than tag. I had Dr. Hoehner for two classes at Dallas Seminary. One was for a class in New Testament Introduction. This thorough going Cambridge scholar was encyclopedic when it came to the history and chronology of the inter-testamental period. He knew all the stories that added color to the important fill that helped the learner. Most every class was a combination of a beginning Aggie joke (humor indigenous to Texas as the Aggies fall prey to the butt end of the barb) and an engaging discussion of the matters before the class working through the content. He drew from such a deep well that the discussions for him seemed effortless. He was scholarly, but approachable and his humor made him humane and tricked you into thinking he was common. His mind and heart were anything but common. He was a thorough going New Testament scholar. I had him for the section of 1 Corinthians in the Greek cycle that all ThM students took at that time. He understood the grammar of the New Testament and could unpack the nuances of the language with such clarity. I will always remember an experience I had in my section of the 1 Corinthians class. After we exegeted 1 Corinthians 7 we all had to write a position paper on marriage, divorce and remarriage. He chose from our section a range of positions on the topic and got us all up in front of the class on a panel to defend our position. At the time, I was espousing some bizarre position that divorce in the Bible exclusively and only related to the break ups of engagement/betrothal (not unlike the Joseph and Mary issue that Joseph contemplated after God overshadowed Mary). At the time myself, Bill Gothard, and three independent fundamentalists pastors in South Carolina held that view. Gothard could not have even defended that view on that day, but nonetheless I tried. I have never been skewered so graciously nor has a rotisserie ever treated its prey with such dignity and respect. His questions made me think about thoughts I had never considered before. He pressed me in frontier areas of my thought that blazed virgin trails. Isn't that the job of the master teacher- to lead in thinking and reflection? As he pressed me in front of the class before whom I was empanelled, He treated me with so much regard and held affirmation out for my convictions. All the while, he was frying my ideas on the text and other passages he brought to bear on the issue. He closed with a pastoral charge to all of us to hold these positions with the utmost grace as we dealt with people. He knew way ahead how easy the arguments go down in front of your peers in class and knew well before we saw it clearly how painful the issue of divorce is for the church. He urged us to maintain our convictions earnestly, holding onto them with grace as we deal with the broken. I have never forgotten how he dealt with me that day. Grace, scholarship and careful thought soaked in the text were the order of that day...and every day in Dr. Hoehner's classes. The best vantage point I have ever heard to explain a Biblical recognition of changes in God's economy (dispensations) was his rehearsal of a debate he was involved in (if I am remembering right) at his beloved Houghton College. In the middle of the debate he asked his foe if he had brought a lamb to worship the previous Sunday. His partner reluctantly admitted that in fact, he had not. Dr. Hoehner then inquired into whether approaching God was different before Sinai than after. Then he pressed to ask if at the consummation of all things relating to God would be different. On all four fronts his interlocutor had to admit change. That is just recognizing Biblical change and not making the text walk on all fours...or is it sevens? I think even the DTS doctrinal statement only lists four seasons of God's relatedness to humanity in redemptive history. I've used his "Did you bring a lamb?" question since that time. Yes, it is finished...gloriously finished once and for all. The curtain was changed...just unraveled right in the face of being made obsolete. How delightful is the new and living way. I had few personal encounters with him. He did not know my name. But around 1987 I ran into him at a national conference. We exchanged pleasantries and he began to inquire just where I was and what was going on in my family's life. At the time we were potty training Caleb, our oldest. It is not everyday that you get the opportunity to discuss potty training toddlers with a Cambridge scholar! But I will always remember the advice he gave to my wife and me. He said, "You know my wife and I stressed over potty training with our oldest and the more we stressed the less successful we were. We decided that as long as he was potty trained by college, we were ok. We relaxed and then it happened." We laughed and departed, but that was probably some of the best advice we ever received on potty training. "Relax, it will happen!" That reminds me of the many faceted sides to a neat guy: scholar, quick witted aggie jokester and down to earth friend and mentor. That is a great package and one which will be sorely missed in the DTS family and God's kingdom. Oh sure, he was not perfect. It is funny to read his introduction to his magnum opus on Ephesians. I think he was only fifteen years or so late on the deadline for publication. The series the book was to be included in might have been out of print by the time he went to press. He blew by all length restrictions and wrote himself out of anything but a stand alone publication with New Testament scholars galore from all over the world commenting on the jacket cover. All of us do something with our lives. Dr. Hoehner's something was with the text of the New Testament and with students. His students live indebted to him. His memory spurs us on to careful thought and life long learning. Thank God for Dr. Hoehner. Shout Outs Tue, 24 Feb 2009 11:42:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/2/24/Harold-Hoehner-On-Cambridge-Scholarship-Potty-Training--Leaving-A-Legacy http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/1/30/Paul-Dixons-Socks Dr. Paul Dixon has had a pretty significant influence on my life. I was in his evangelism class as a freshman in college at Cedarville University (then college). His passion to see people come to follow Jesus is contagious. I stood in the window before one of our classes and watched the photographer shoot the now famous picture of him and Dr. Jeremiah walking down the sidewalk in locked step. None of us knew at the time what a metaphor that would be for the seamless transition to a new leader at Cedarville that God would bring about. His twenty five year run as president was pretty outstanding. He has always bled the mission of Cedarville and he would share that mission with others and ask them to be his partner in paying for the all the buildings they built during his tenure at Cedarville. One of the several forums, included chapel and his indulgence in friendship, which galvanized his impact on me, was a discipleship group he invited me to be a part of at his house. It did not hurt his impact upon me that he and his wife were zealous fans of jacket basketball back in those days. I can still hear that which is unable to be mimicked in Mrs. D's cheers from those short stubby pull out bleachers near the Jacket bench. But let me get back to our discipleship group. Several of us would go to their house at some obscure hour in the morning and he would work at anchoring our roots into the disciplines that would take us deep in following Jesus Christ. He opened his Bible and taught us lessons in following Jesus. They were always simple and full of clarity and challenge. We were memorizing scripture together and seeking to follow hard after Christ. I do not know why I was sovereignly chosen. I was in the group with several others, including a trustee's son who seemed to me to be trying to figure out whether he was going forward with Jesus. I wonder what ever became of him. Dr. Dixon had his arm around him pointing to Jesus. In that group I learned an important lesson that I have never forgotten. It is amazing what God uses to speak to your heart. Paul Dixon's socks! We usually took our shoes off so we were not messing with Mrs. D's carpet. There was always a time when we knelt to pray together. I remember one morning watching him kneel at his chair. I can still see it in my mind's eye and it was the impression on my heart at the time that had stuck with me. Now the impression was not related to the quality of the socks he wore. They looked to be right off of the shelf of some great haberdashery. They had no worn marks on them. For years I have been of the mind that your socks go through several lives. The first life is the cotton stage. Then you move onto the polished nylon stage when the cotton is gone in the strategic places and you move toward the silk stage. Caleb's Emily invaded our space a few years ago and now has taken up the dishonor of my sock collection. Who cares unless they have to take your shoes off in ER and you show them your silk socks? Well, thanks to Emily and the last few Christmas gatherings, my sock drawer is working its way back to Dr. Dixon. But we knelt one morning and in my mind's eye I could see that he was just a man. Sure, all of our spit dried up around him and we swallowed our tongue when spoken to by his immanency, but he was just a normal guy. He got cut from his basketball team in high school (probably the only thing in his life he has not been outrageously successful at), and went home and cried, he told me once. That's normal. When we all knelt at those chairs we were just in the stuff of following Jesus together. There was no hierarchy. He was not super man president; he was just a common guy with gifts from God who gave them liberally to the Lord's work. Now this is not your locker room speech about the other team putting their pants on one leg at a time, but I realized that God uses ordinary guys in ways that please him. Now I have certainly learned that he does not always use us in the same ways and to the same extent. Some thirtyfold, some sixty, some a hundred. You know the drill (Mark 4:20). That sort of bothered me at first. He wears socks and all just like me (now granted his socks are better) and is a normal guy. I wanted him to be super-human, an angel of God. I would felt better about the leadership at Cedarville. But I have learned the genius of God in thinking otherwise. He just uses common ordinary people who love Jesus and his work in extraordinary ways. Then he collects all the glory. He just turned 70. Happy Birthday Dr. Dixon! But I hate that. As I am about 120 days away from a half a hundred, I have realized more and more that the heroes upon which I have been standing are finishing out. Dr. Kempton died. Vernon Grounds is 94. Joe Stowell is 65. Bill Wheeler is 85 (his hair looks like that anyway). My buddy Marv is weak. They do not stay around forever. Oh the glory of Jesus, our eternal and unchanging Lord! What is most bothersome is to consider that they are finishing and, with my peers, we are it. I feel so inadequate to be one of Ezekiel's gapsmen and step up into their wake. I am not like them. I do not have their gifts. I always wanted so much more out of the leadership I followed than what I find in my own heart. Where now are the giants? It is then that his socks bring me back to my knees, where I ask God to make my ordinary extraordinary for him and for his glory. In our weakness, his strength is made perfect. Happy Birthday Dr. D! I hope you got a couple pairs of new socks. Thank you for your faithfulness. Friendship Fri, 30 Jan 2009 17:06:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/1/30/Paul-Dixons-Socks http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/1/14/Love-At-First-Bite Well, it is probably best characterized as "Love at first bite!", but that is getting way ahead of the story. Let me help you catch up. Christmas of 1984, Andi and I found out that we were going to have a baby. I was in my last year in seminary and she was finishing her seventh year as a school teacher. We moved back to Ohio and I had the privilege of starting as an associate pastor at Southgate and Caleb Mounts made his dramatic entrance in August of 1985. This left handed, high energy fellow full of wit and imagination has, with his brother and sister, filled out home with joy for these twenty three years. The memories stick out like large road signs unable to be missed along the autobahn of our memory. The guy has always had a hidden sense of flair and savvy. His first Bible lesson in two year old Sunday school was on boy Samuel of old. He was so fascinated by God coming to visit him and calling out his name. He was also very fascinated with grape juice at the time. He loved to have a "jink of juis" as he lay in bed going off to sleep. His heart was full of zeal to retell the story of Samuel, though his zeal was ahead of his ability to lay out the story in sequential order. So as he was telling me the story he seemed to loose the edge on the narrative by explaining to me that when God called out to Samuel and he finally recognized, through Eli's tutelage, that God was speaking to him, he answered and said, "jink of juis". No Caleb, that's not what he said, but you were right. Boy Samuel was in bed, and juice just seemed to wedge right in there to fit into the story. In a way, that seems so long ago. During those years, we were made alert to a problem that our nursery was having with Caleb at the time. He was a biter. Yes, on multiple occasions we were called out of services to find a young man looking down at the carpet as the nursery workers told the tales of biting in the nursery. The biting always focused around one individual, one Emily Alexander. She was his peer and has yet a vivacious fun loving personality that is assertive and explores one's attention through initiating conversation. Caleb would have none of it at the time. He felt cornered by her overtures and responded summarily with the bicuspids to the shoulder or arm...whatever. We were constantly apologizing to her mother and father about our son's response to their daughter. But the story gets better. These two grew up together. At varying and opposite times, we know now through true confessions that they harbored secret and not so secret interests in each other intermittently, though never simultaneously, as they grew up. As pre-school days approached, Caleb, with our family, took off for six years in Michigan. They were officially off of the grid of each other's lives from four to ten. Reentry and re-assimilation took place just before adolescence-just in time for multiple AWANA Wednesday nights and more Sunday School together. They even co-starred together in some children musicals, although looking back I cannot remember "Morph" saying anything at all about his interest in his co-star Emily. The high school student ministry days gave rise to banter and group activities but neither side ever conceded too much of their more secret admirations for each other. Again through high school, the embers were never simultaneously hot for each other at the same time. Then came what looked like Kadesh Barnea-the high school watershed. Emily courageously asked Caleb to go with her to her high school's prom. Caleb summarily refused...yes, he said no. But it took a turn for the worse. Soon after, and near the last minute of possibility, he asked one of her best friends (OD) to his prom. Needless to say that was a bit of a setback for their relatedness. Off it was to Cedarville University for the both of them (and some of you by now are a little ahead of me). The first semester it was some group together kind of activities where a new realization of the ability to join company again emerged. As the second semester of the first year emerged, yes, they came together as an item. Fast forward four years and a lot of shared company at our house and our family has come to really appreciate this lovely lady. So it was with joy that nine days ago we watched Caleb's plan go down and those two are now engaged to be married. Who would have ever thought? What an expression of the grace and favor of God upon our son. "He that finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord." Proverbs 18:22 We're new at this, but very delighted. Our baby is getting married...to one neat girl. I remember her comments in high school when we sat down with the youth group and debriefed with them after seeing The Passion of the Christ. This was no ditzy blond, this was a young lady developing in affection for Jesus. I was impressed, seeing her in a whole new light. It is a good tale, full of fascinating twists and turns that is headed now for the altar and the vows. They were so fun to be around the night they were engaged. They are two happy people, who make us happy watching them. It is a tale that began, I suppose, with love at first bite...just a few feet away from where, the Lord willing, they will be married in a few months. God writes cool stories of grace! Family Wed, 14 Jan 2009 10:21:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2009/1/14/Love-At-First-Bite http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/12/24/Christmas-When-God-Wrote-Himself-Into-Our-Story Twas the night before Christmas And all through the globe Most everyone was clueless to God's pending abode Adam's path had led us away Great distraction the norm for our day When bursting into the darkness we made It was God enfleshed in a manger he laid Whoever could have it conceived? Virgin birth, 'twas hard to believe The story of Christmas, God sized most indeed A plan conceived Only God ahead could foresee He made us, we left him We preferred our own way He drew up a story To bring salvation's day Only a genius could make this story work But the cost to Our Maker Certainly no perk A twist unforeseen, An outsider come in The One who had made us To us condescends We messed up our history Our yarn twisted in knots So he entered our story We central in his thoughts Who would have imagined? Why chase rebels down? His heart of affection Has brought Him renown He entered our story He took up our form He invites us to embrace him To new hope be reborn God such a genius, unanticipated joy He wrote himself into our history With this new baby boy Devotional Wed, 24 Dec 2008 10:56:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/12/24/Christmas-When-God-Wrote-Himself-Into-Our-Story http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/11/29/Pastoral-Treasure Pastoral ministry is one great adventure. It will certainly break your heart and test your spirit, but it holds out exhilarating joys and privileges. One of the great privileges is to relate to God's people and care for them as a Shepherd, to share their joys and bear their burdens. The longer the pastoral tenure the deeper and wider the connections you can have with people. That was vividly brought home to me in a visit I had recently with a dear sister. I got a message that I was to return a call to my dear sister who is eighty six. She is now a widow and I had heard that these were not the easiest days for her even as I had noticed that she was attending worship with less frequency. Our friendship goes back some twenty three years when I served here at Southgate as an associate. She and her husband, one peach of a guy, started coming to Southgate to help their granddaughters through their broken home. The couple had a church background of a mainline protestant sort. From the outset, on this errand for their granddaughters who had a prior history with our church, God seemed to capture their hearts with what they were experiencing here at Southgate. Andi and I invited them to an outreach Bible Study at our home then on Overlook Drive. Her husband was taken aback by the invitation. He was such a pleasant and neat guy. He was an invader through the Normandy Beaches during World War II, albeit nine days after the first wave. As I recall, he strung communication wire across Europe following the tide that would liberate Europe from tyranny. He was a great athlete in high school and valorous soldiering just fit him. He set the state record for the high school long jump back in his day. I remember it as 19' 10 ¾"...but I would always miss it when I tried to guess as he would ask. He never forgot the length. It was embedded in his memory. He barbered and was a gifted conversationalist for years. But this valorous man wanted no part of a group discussion in Bible Study. He was first guy to come to my house and let me know that he would not be participating in the discussion in the Bible study...but he would come. The great irony was that he may well have said the most out of all in the group. I miss him. I had the privilege of baptizing him in the mid nineties. We had by then a measure of shared history together as a threesome. He had gone through colon cancer which sent him into a deep reflection on his on journey with Jesus Christ. He got on his knees and got squared away with Christ before the surgery went down. His wife had been a prior pacesetter, having responded after a Billy Graham invitation as she began with Christ several years earlier. I had been in their home and prayed with them and laughed with them and shared happy and sad times together. My friend who came to visit me always had such an elegant spirit about her. She is a classy gal, always taking good care of her self. She dresses well and with a quiet smile was just made for what was pleasant to be around. She was full of a sort of English-proper, but as kind and common as the best of mid-western culture. I will always remember the afternoon her husband died. He was waning in the hospital and I was just coming up to the room as he breathed his last. When I joined her she was just realizing that the Lord had come to receive her husband to Himself. I have been around those tender moments before but this one was different. She was sad and gently weeping, but she was savoring...yes, savoring. She was savoring all that it meant for her to be his wife. We sat together and she rehearsed all the ways God had blessed her in giving her Roger. She was releasing him to heaven savoring all that was theirs on earth. It was striking and touching. While deeply wounded with grief, she was greatly moved to praise God for the years they had shared together. Several more years have past and she is going it alone...with Jesus. They had already moved out of their place into a nice condo. Her sister was close by to enjoy contact and shared errands. But fatigue sets in and memory fades out (I'm arriving forty years early to my sister) and sustaining life gets more difficult. Now was the time. She was moving to Alabama with her daughter for a season. At eighty six, it may be the closing season. God knows. We both felt the texture of what could be as we said goodbye. She told me, "I just did not want to leave without coming to say goodbye." What a good visit we had. It was the fat of the pastoral landscape. It was sweet and affectionate. What a privilege to commit her to the Shepherd of our souls who exists and therefore, we are not left in want of anything. She will be fine and then in due time better than she has ever been. They do not sell the treasures of relating at Wall Mart. They are on the priceless aisle of living. As she left I savored again the rare joy of being a Shepherd. It is good work that on its best days fills your heart with joy. People matter. When will we get that? Self indulgence is self defeating and does not at all deliver on what is promised. Looking out for number one can lead you to be estranged from family and friends and living out your days in a cold sterile room at some forsaken rest home. People are life's great treasure. God knew that all along and spared nothing to send Jesus to provide us the chance of life right side up. Pastoring is the people business. It has its own reward well before the great day when all of the final judgments will be in. May we be found valuing the right things as we live out our very few days. People are the right things and relating well is a treasure and a privilege in life. "Shepherd the flock of God among you...with eagerness." 1 Peter 5:2 The Church: The Body of Christ Sat, 29 Nov 2008 18:38:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/11/29/Pastoral-Treasure http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/11/17/Busted-Advertisements On both sides of the Atlantic buses are sporting advertisements for life without God. In London the buses herald: "There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life." Oxford University's atheist Richard Dawkins gave nine thousand dollars to the campaign. Not to be outdone, D.C. buses broke out with "Why believe in god? Just be good for goodness' sake". Both jingles hold several ironies. First, the term probably is a fascinating concession to other possibilities. Probably is not one of those convictions well suited to lead us to live and die for the idea. Secondly, many in western culture who have given up God long ago seem yet to be proficient at worry and a lack of life enjoyment. There seems no necessary connection between espousing atheism and finding a long lost worry free life that is full of joy. Finally, history is one long persuasive closing argument on our inability to be good for any sake. Let's face it we are pretty good at not being very good. For years I have been around people who claimed to be followers of Jesus Christ. The most care free folks I know follow Jesus. The people I know who seem to enjoy life best follow Him. They do not need spirits, money or a great party to pull it off. In fact these folks can sleep at night, enjoy simple conversation and value the raw pleasure of serving others. They are also those who suffer well, weather betrayal and find forgiving others liberating. They know how to laugh and what to laugh at and in proportion what to cry over. Just real people who have found life in Him! (John 17:3) God has His advertisements out there from his authentic family. The peace with our past, the rest with right now and the hope for the future is worth its weight in gold-notwithstanding current bus ads to the contrary. There is no remedy for worry like knowing "He has the whole world in His hands", no remedy for meaninglessness like "Jesus loves me this I know". There is no cure for self righteous arrogance and no inducement to humility like the realization that we cannot be good enough (Matthew 5:48), but don't have to be. People that show genuine goodness are those who have ceased striving to be good and embraced Jesus and found his life poking through in their relatedness to others. Everybody is for His ways: loving neighbor and enemy, treating others like you desire to be treated, returning good for evil, living beyond yourself. Even Dawkins would appreciate that social strategy. It was the brilliant French Mathematician Pascal who said, "People despise Christian faith. They hate it and are afraid that it may be true. The solution for this is to show them, first of all, that it is not unreasonable, that it is worthy of reverence and respect. Then show that it is winsome, making good men desire that it were true. Then show them that it really is true. It is worthy of reverence because it really understands the human condition. It is also attractive because it promises true goodness." Good News Mon, 17 Nov 2008 21:10:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/11/17/Busted-Advertisements http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/10/23/Octobers-Encouragement I read once where Abraham Lincoln died with articles in his pocket that spoke well of his presidency and his leadership. Those in leadership understand this gesture. Everyone wants to feel like they are making a difference and that they are doing a commendable job. October is pastor appreciation month. It is a month where congregates are told to affirm their pastors. Through the years, not only in October, but all through the year, simple little notes and not so simple gestures have been enacted to affirm my own efforts in pastoral ministry. I actually keep the notes. They are in my tax records for each year; yes, right there next to the utility bills are the notes in a file collected all together. I do not keep them to re-read them. Hardly ever do I go back through and read any of them. But I see them if I poke around in an old tax year trying to find something. It is the visual equivalent to the vitamin for ministry-a shot in the arm to keep you going. Quite a part from cards, I can remember some life altering encouragement which reshaped the trajectory of several situations. I remember once a few days out from going on vacation in the mountains of Tennessee that my car did not check out right. Because of the need for some special parts, my brakes could have potentially failed and my mountain vacation car was on the fritz. I went to the Saturday morning prayer meeting and we all prayed about it. I got a call later that afternoon that a local car dealership had worked out a matter and I was to pick up a new car for a week for my vacation. The kids were amazed. Their parents had their hearts filled with gratitude. The stories are legion. How much good beef have I eaten through gift cards of thanks through the years? Some of the stories are funny. I had a lady once bring me her husband's camel sport jacket for dress. It was beautiful and it fit just right, seemed hardly warn. I wore it out. The first Sunday I wore it, it looked great. I wanted to thank the guy for giving it to me. I went right up to him and started the conversation only to notice her in the background gesturing me away. Come to find out, it was his graying hair and the mix with the camel jacket and her taste that was not working. He had no idea I was wearing his jacket...and she wanted to keep it that way. That is ethical tension. One time a group of anonymous families put together a coalition and had a "clothes horse" man take me to a men's store to spend the money on a few suits. I was flabbergasted. My heart was full of joy, until I began to contemplate just why this gesture had emerged. Was it about their love for me? Or was it, in the end, about their sense that I dressed like an idiot? I was afraid to ask. Was it grace or a referendum on my wardrobe? Maybe another reason why these affirming gestures mean so much is because of the other comments that pastoral leadership receives. I cannot print what I have been told...about myself. Some one wrote a book once called "Well Intended Dragons". Maybe you have to be there in pastoral ministry to appreciate the title. Believe me the dragons are out there. It is their fire breathing feedback that makes one appreciate all the more the encouragement from others. I have had associates fight back their emotions as they repeated to me what they had been told. I have picked up the fragments of their vision of themselves and sought to glue it back together. That old "sticks and stones" proverb is a lie. After a while, you come to expect negative feedback and listen for the truth and do not take it so personal. As Warren Wiersbe used to say, "In time they shoot through the same hole. It does not hurt as bad." As Gordon McDonald encourages one looks for the kernel of truth in every bushel of criticism and grows from it and prays through it. But thank God for the Barnabas-s out there that encourage. They are worth their weight in gold. I was particularly amused at a recent prayer meeting when a brother identified October as the month of pastoral encouragement. He charged the group to encourage the pastoral staff. He was waxing on in his challenge and he may have over reached when he drove the point home with "we need to really tell them what we think of them". It got real quiet and there was a lull...and then he quickly added "I mean, tell them something good." The whole room exploded with laughter. We laugh at times so we do not cry. Everybody knows there will always be those who take the freedom to tell them what they think of them...good or bad feedback. Thank God that the lion's share for me through the years has been encouraging. What a privilege it is to serve God's great family...the church of Jesus Christ. The "at a boy" we in pastoral ministry yearn for is the last one, the one from the Great Shepherd of the sheep. We live and work to hear in the end "Well done, you good and faithful servant." Pray that we may order our lives to make that a reality. It is required of a steward that he be found faithful. The Church: The Body of Christ Thu, 23 Oct 2008 08:00:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/10/23/Octobers-Encouragement http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/10/7/Rise-Up-Oh-Men-Of-God There is a phrase in the King James Version translation of 1 Corinthians 16:13 that has always intrigued me, "quit you like men". Maybe a part of the intrigue is tied up in not entirely understanding what the phrase meant. I find the New American Standard's translation so much more clear, "act like men". That is one charge the men in America need to hear. But then, who is clear on what it means to be a man, a man of God? I remember as Andi and I were rearing our boys (now men, 23 and 20), we frequently pounded in that notion, "the man of God is not a striker". For obvious reasons, we had need of that verse a lot as the boys grew up. Striking was regular fair. I think we derived that challenge from Titus 1:7 and the King James Version's take on the qualifications for the office of pastor. While we pushed hard on anti-striking, we could have filled out the rest of the profile of the man of God with more proportion. The striking part just seemed so relevant as they grew up. What is striking is the influence a man of God can have over his home, work and community. In many families, I have noticed that there is more spiritual fervor in women than in men. While I applaud and welcome godly aspirations in a wife and mother's heart, an influence pattern I have observed (especially in the shadow casted in a son's life) is that an ounce of the husband/father's godliness seems multiplied in influence to that of a gallon of godly aspiration in the wife/mother. Now this is not some raw sexist comment as much as it an observation I have made about what seemed to be even the negation of a godly mother's influence in the home in the face of the ungodly role model of a father. There are certainly always exceptions. I have seen some incredible single mothers and of course, the prophet Daniel and his three friends did not do bad surrounded by pagan and ungodly influences in the courts of ancient Chaldea. And they were all by themselves as young adolescent boys. God sets apart the godly for himself. But the argument of this paragraph is for the indispensible place a godly man has to play in his home. We need godly men. This past week I spoke to man who worked through a really tough experience with a family member he loves. In the midst of working through the carnage that a "professing follower of Jesus"-male had wrought upon his victim, a counselor (a dear godly women) grabbed a hold of my friend and asked something like, "Where are the men? Where are they? How come a male can get away with this in the church? Where are the guys standing up to this man and saying, 'No, this is not the way to live. You cannot do this to women. This is not acceptable and you must change.'?" Is that the kind of culture of expectation we are cultivating in our churches? Faithful are the wounds of a friend. Iron sharpens iron, as the scripture asserts. Too often we hold out little expectation for godliness, when it is our collective hunger together for righteousness that is a big part of maintaining our resolve to go on in the Jesus' way of life. In my weakness, it is both the power of Christ and the holy expectation of my brothers and sisters that goads me on to faithfulness to Christ. I am not advocating heavy handed moral policing as much as brotherly expectation articulated and expected and applied. We need it from each other. The church that is alive and captive to righteousness has it. We know better and expect it of each other. There is too much at stake not to stimulate each other onto love and good works and holy living. Like never before it is a time for husbands and fathers to "act like men". Men are loyal to their wives and clearly one-woman men. Men are faithful to their promises and commitments. Men lay down their lives for their wives. Men are pure and shun all sexual indulgence outside of marriage, physical and mental. Men take up the honor of their wives and affirm them and protect them. Men take up the duties of fathering creatively and with joy. Men don't let other males jack around in sin and indulgence without calling it what it is and levying a healthy expectation for repentance. Men it is time...time to rise up and "act like men". Friendship Tue, 07 Oct 2008 17:10:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/10/7/Rise-Up-Oh-Men-Of-God http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/9/11/September-11 Seven years ago this week (on September 10th) Eddie Torres started his new job with Canter Fitzgerald in New York City. The world was good...a new job and a wife seven months pregnant. Things were falling into place for Eddie. He died his second day on the job. He perished in the Twin Tower tragedies of September 11, 2001. His wife recently published a memoir of this experience entitled American Widow. Eddie was ready to tackle the world and had momentum by the throat working to his advantage! On that tragic day seven years ago he never came home. He went into eternity. Those close to him will always remember him. He will not be forgotten by those who loved him. Reading a review of Eddie's wife's memoir I began to think about how life can turn on a dime. James, the half brother of Jesus, wrote, "Come now, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow, we shall go to such and such a city, and spend a year there and engage in business and make a profit.' Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away. Instead, you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we shall live and also do this or that.' But as it is, you boast in your arrogance; all such boasting is evil." James 4:13-16. It is the right time of the year to read that verse about the vapor. Morning vapors with the cool air and the lowlands make for that moist morning fog that is so evident just for a few hours. Then, it's gone. That is life. "If the Lord wills, we shall live..." We shall live. That seems like such an assumed baseline that is somehow our birthright, yet the Bible urges us to reckon life as a precious gift from our Creator. "It is in Him that we live and move and have our very being...He gives life and breath to all things." Acts 17:25, 28. We'll all die once and then live somewhere forever (Hebrews 9:27). When Eddie died and when we die, the thing that will matter most is what we have done with God's son Jesus Christ! In that Acts 17 speech that the apostle Paul gave to the sophisticated listeners at Athens, he directed their attention to the God of the universe who sustains our lives. Then he invited them to repent. "Therefore having overlooked the times of ignorance, God is now declaring to men that all everywhere should repent, because he has fixed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness through a Man whom He has appointed, having furnished proof to all men by raising Him from the dead." Acts 17:31-32. That call was not new, Jesus began his ministry with a simple call with a familiar ring, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe the gospel." Mark 1:15 Repentance is not a super popular concept today. It is an affront to our perception of us. To a person we tend to all be "way ok"...until we honestly pull up next to God's standards. Then we take the equivalent of what is much more than a back seat to His standards. A back seat to God in eternity is a fate none of us want nor is it inevitable or even necessary. God made other plans for us. We're invited by grace to His party...one that will last forever. The good news is that we can live with hope and when it comes...die with hope through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. God ran after us in Jesus and accomplished the errand of the cross and the assurance of his promise in the empty tomb. Now he invites us, while we live, to acknowledge our sin, turn around (repent) and give ourselves to Jesus Christ in faith. To know Him is have life eternal and celebrate that life before death (John 17:3). To not know Him is to perish in eternity. Someday we'll leave the house for the last time. There is nothing in life quite like the assurance (because of his grace) of knowing that for we who have savingly laid a hold of Jesus, to absent our bodies is to enter the presence of our Lord. It is a win-win way to live and die....forgiven, hopeful and living with joy. Heaven is for everyone who can stand it and who has found joy in repentance and faith. If tomorrow is your last day, are you ready to meet the One who gives you life and breath and the opportunity throughout your life to savingly come home to Him through repentance and faith? He stands at the door knocking, ready to meet you (Revelation 3:20). What a friend we have in Jesus, He who loved us and gave Himself for us so that we could live with hope and have everlasting life. Good News Thu, 11 Sep 2008 16:55:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/9/11/September-11 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/8/22/Get-Your-Butts-Out-There-For-Good Bill Maher, late night comedian and recently minted social commentator was interviewed by Larry King on CNN last week. Maher's sarcasm and cynical humor is a hit with his following. He is irreverent and edgy in driving home the barbed ends of his humor. If you are on his ideological page he can be very funny. The interview took place a few days after mega-church pastor Rick Warren hosted the presidential candidates for a discussion. Maher has a jaundiced view of what he calls "religion". His take: "It's not mainly about doing the right thing or being ethical. It's mainly about salvation. It's mainly about getting your butt saved when you die...They believe in this comic-book figure called the devil who's going to poke your ass in hell if you're bad." It is healthy for the church to ponder her critics. Are we disinterested in the common good of society? That position is certainly off mission for Jesus. Luke said of him, "You know about Jesus of Nazareth,...how he went about doing good..." Acts 10:38. His ministry was certainly much more, but at root it was not any less. If a church is not concerned for the common good of humanity, they are not following Jesus. John Wesley, a follower of Christ from the 18th century, said, "Do all the good you can in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as you ever can." Maher is for Wesley's vision. Jesus winsomely combined doing good with offering hope. He knew that what ails us at root is our sinful selfish heart. We need a change of heart. We need to be saved. Heaven is our hope. Hell is reserved for those estranged from God who could never stand being around Him. Dallas Willard said, "Heaven is for everybody who can stand it." Hell is an obnoxious thought until you ponder the justice for which we all yearn. Everybody wants the murderer to face the charge, the rapist and the pedophile to face "the judge". The sexual trafficker will face "the judge of all the earth" (Genesis 18:25). Liars complicate our lives. Oddly, I am attracted to God by hell. Hell is God's response to evil. I want a God who gets ticked with evil. What I was less free to acknowledge for a while was the destructive seeds of evil present in my heart. I myself was estranged from God. How could that sixties slogan have become one of our culture's most deeply held convictions, "Hell no, we won't go!"? We still need a Savior from our culpable guilt before a holy God. Yes, Bill, we need to be saved. And the good news is still "there is Savior who has been born who is Christ the Lord!" (Luke 2:10). And the news gets better at Good Friday and Easter. What critics with Maher are less willing to acknowledge is that these saved folk are the same people who are engaged in more work for the common good in America and around the world. Ask FEMA who provided the most volunteer labor in the aftermath of Katrina. Whole sections of the worst of New Orleans were given over to Franklin Graham's Samaritan's purse. Why? No one else could muster those volunteer armies. Those armies of the saved got their butts to New Orleans and found high joy in serving for the common good, and they would argue, for the glory of their Savior. Sure, Maher is right. There are churches who are simply after saving their "ass from hell". But they are not following God's entire book. People do all sorts of things in Jesus' name that are not in the book. There is some pending justice for that as well. Southgate is pleased to be a part of a band of volunteers from churches all over Springfield who find joy in serving others in Jesus' name and work for the common good of all of us. Bill, you protest too much! We do not need less engagement, our world needs more of these volunteers whose involvement stems from their gratitude for God's work in their life to save them from the eternal consequences of their sin. According to the book, when your butts are saved, you just can't help but pour your life into making life better for all in the name of Jesus Christ. And along the way, you invite them into life, forgiveness and peace through knowing Jesus Christ as Savior...in deed and in word! The Church: The Body of Christ Fri, 22 Aug 2008 16:03:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/8/22/Get-Your-Butts-Out-There-For-Good http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/8/14/Ethiopian-Reflections-1 I had the privilege of spending most of my June in the East African country of Ethiopia. I taught for three weeks at the Evangelical Theological College in Addis Ababa. I had twenty-seven of what seemed to me to be the finest students in all of East Africa. They ranged in ages from early twenties to forty-nine. Most all of them were completely immersed in ministry and several had already planted several churches. They were bright and engaging and very helpful to teach me the culture of Ethiopia as well as warmly to embrace a "frengie" (read 'white dude') teacher. Ethiopians by nature are warm and personal and polite. They very much appreciate relationships. They have each other. While the West is given to a "I think, therefore I am" individual mentality, those African brothers and sisters are reared in a setting where "We are, therefore I am" is the way to look at life...as well as the way to each injera (communal). That made for a quick development of chemistry as we were in it together...for three weeks that I will never forget. Having been back now over a month, I am still savoring the experience and celebrating what God is doing in that great continent. Phil Jenkins (Penn State) has suggested that the epicenter of influence and leadership is shifting in global Christianity. It is shifting from the West and the Northern Hemisphere and shifting South. Simultaneously it is moving East and centering in Africa. Yes, Africa is emerging as the center of God's great global Christian movement. Ethiopia is poised to lead in this new nexus of influence. Around fifteen million of the seventy five to eighty million people in Ethiopia would own an evangelical faith. That would include garden-variety evangelicals, along with Pentecostals and Assembly of God brothers and sisters and a retinue of Scandinavian Lutherans who are warm in their embrace of the necessity of a personal commitment to Jesus Christ our Lord. I was there just after the twenty fifth graduation at the Evangelical Theological College. The Ethiopian Graduate School of Theology is just down the road. These fully accredited institutions are well groomed and pulsating with vitality and thoughtful training for ministry in Ethiopia. The leadership development infrastructure is in place and I sensed the Ethiopian church is poised to lead. The church there is now sending missionaries out throughout Africa and other Middle Eastern and Asian countries. They are supporting these folks with monthly support, but need a little help from the West to put together the outfit and passage. SIM, whose ministry there has shaped the movement of God within Ethiopia in extraordinary ways, would love to hear from us as they build a network to be alongside the outfit and passage needs of these Ethiopian globetrotters leaving with the gospel and its attendant hope for Adam's children. The church is vibrant and healthy. They are joyfully serious about this moment in Ethiopian culture and how to exalt Jesus in meeting needs and calling people to Him. They are engaged in feeding the poor, educating the young, HIV ministry and education, community development and jobs creation, along with evangelizing those yet to follow Jesus and training them for gospel ministry. One marquee example was a church in one of the poorest sections of Addis (in a city where all are poor by Western standards...and still paying our gas price per gallon). Since the liberation from the tyranny of communism in 1991, this church has planted eighteen churches in the city area. They are paying for staffs for all of these churches through the offerings received...from these Macedonian like saints who are giving out of their poverty. Jesus is most important to them. The church reminded me of a pack of Issachar brothers (I Chronicles 12:32). Remember it is said of them that they understood their times and knew what to do...that is the Ethiopian church. What a privilege to be next to twenty seven of their emerging leaders and teach them and build into their lives. All of us who follow Jesus have a story. But some stories are full of more incredible providence. Two in the class had been victims of their mother's ingestion of abortion inducing drugs during gestation...and they lived to tell about it, notwithstanding their mother's fears that they would be deformed. They were perfect. One brother was imprisoned for three months for his faith, another for eight years. They were sharp and eager and so appreciative of the chance to learn and equip themselves for what God has next. I taught the assigned topic of Advanced Evangelism. God visited our class and in engaging conversations we had, as an extention of the class over two weekends, five Ethiopians came to embrace Jesus Christ. The gospel is the power of God unto salvation. They had such joy in rehearsing the stories as they returned to report to the class. Their reports were always followed by class eruptions of clapping. Their names were different, but what we share in Christ brought us all together for a memorable twenty four days that I will take to my grave. The class ended in a circle of prayer with one dear brother crying out for the Lord's blessing on us. Priceless, something Visa cards and material culture cannot touch. May their tribe increase...and may God bless the church in Ethiopia, poised as they are to lead the new center of global Christianity through this new millennium. Good News Thu, 14 Aug 2008 23:07:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/8/14/Ethiopian-Reflections-1 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/7/16/Annikas-Clear-Vision Every once in a while someone in our culture wakes up! They seem to rise above the joint aspirations of all humanity in the western world and they see over the top of our frantic quest for material goods and they call a time out. Then they make some announcement about change and everyone is stunned, especially if their cultural position is one most envied-big salary, multiple properties, in a word-one of those "have it all" people. Annika woke up this Spring, but that is getting ahead of the story. Annika Sorenstam is the most successful professional women's golfer who has ever played the game. This sweet Sweed grew up in Skandanvia and developed a passion for golf. She went to college at the University of Arizona and has had a storied career. The girl won just about all of the major college titles. In 1994 she was the rookie of the year on the Ladies Professional Golf Association Tour (LPGA). Fourteen years later, it is more than ten major tournament victories, over seventy regular tournament wins and as of the end of last year $20,837,280 dollars down the road. Those numbers put you in stead for amazing opportunities with endorsements and advertising checks you can cash as well. What red-blooded America male does not yearn for those numbers and those opportunities? Those are the numbers of dreams for most. Her lifestyle is the envy of the masses in this headlong quest to get all you can and grab for such financial gusto. Is not that the pinnacle? Is not that what is best? Is not that the ultimate? Is not that the good life? "No, it is not!" That was her answer at a stunning press conference where she announced her retirement from professional golf. She is walking away from it all...at full stride in the midst of an incredible run. Time magazine's May 26th edition quoted her as saying, "I have a lot of dreams. I want to live and I'm getting married." The article later went onto to say that she wants to have a family. What? She is trading it all in for a family life that makes sense and children. What's wrong with Annika? Or is it what is right with Annika? How many families do you know have been ruined with debt and obligation way over their head? How many families do you know that have mortgaged their children on the altar of building their portfolio and moving up the corporate ladder with mind bending and family wrecking hours? Annika has "been there and done that" and now offers a piece of advice, "Family life is worth more than it all!" It seems counter-intuitive to what we are taught and how we live. Yet, we can see that personal tragedies abound as folk wreck, relationally and financially, on their way to the mountain peak of fiscal nirvana. It takes someone who has gone before us, someone with the courage to say what is true and someone with a will to swim against the culture of unquenchable financial appetites. It takes a high profile success story to stab us awake. By God's design, the family is life's great treasure. Knowing God through Jesus Christ and being in his family stands at the head of the list. Then relating to your own family is next. Loving your spouse and children and celebrating the blessing of God in relating. Now not everyone has the privilege to be married. But we all have the privilege of celebrating our relatedness to our friends. People matter. They are life's great treasures. Relationships are the spoils of the good life, not assets and accumulated wealth. Sometimes it takes an oddity like Annika and her decision to step away from golf to experience family life to wake us up to what has been embedded in God's book and God's mind all along. "How blessed is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in His ways. When you shall eat of the fruit of your hands, you will be happy and it will be well with you. Your wife shall be like a fruitful vine, within your house, your children like olive plants around your table. Behold, for thus shall the man be blessed who fears the Lord." Psalm 128:1-4 I think Annika's next great announcement after the wedding will be a birth announcement. She is coming back to what God had designed all along. Shout Outs Wed, 16 Jul 2008 08:52:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/7/16/Annikas-Clear-Vision http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/6/11/Pricelessand-without-a-forthcoming-Visa-bill God was so wise to invent the family. Next to knowing Him through Jesus Christ, family is the best. This summer as our family goes off in a million different directions all at once ('tis the season for such habits of growing children), I realize afresh how much they mean to me. On Tuesday night one of our Elders led the prayer at our meeting and we focused on praying for dad's at Southgate. It was a sweet time together led by a guy who has never recovered from his father's love and mentoring. He'd give anything to talk to him again, but what is left are good memories and enacting disciplines that he would approve and that honor him. It was a prayer meeting about family. He read a neat poem about fatherhood and its privilege to end. We have a bad habit of getting it backwards and wrong. We display the important things and exalt the passing of items of no consequence. Yes, big money does not matter, nor can it buy what is most important. The love of family. A faithful wife has value far above rubies. Kids going forward in maturity and godly aspiration are the joy of life (3 John 4). There is nothing like saying good bye as the family team disperses to the ends of the earth before reconstitution in a few weeks to bring you afresh to what God knows all along and wants to keep on the forefront of our thinking and living. Family is one of life's great treasures and great investments. Faithful affection and persevering forgiving love all pave the way for accrued interest that comes home in windfalls as you get a little older. We've all heard of the power of positive interest financially. Well there is another inexorable benefit to the law of sowing and reaping related to the family. The more you put in, the more you get out. The more selfless you are with each other, the more you grow in the benefit of relating. You get a family all working to bring joy to each other in affection and you have a tsunami of a tide of blessing the rolls in and keeps coming. It is worth it! Stay at it! Give yourself to God's way of life and let Him build the house (Psalm 127:1). He is so good at it. And as He builds, it makes those Home and Garden Channel homes seems like shacks, shells where the dead walk around but do not like each other. Oh the fat on the edges of family life which brings great joy! We need to keep the first and second things first and second. Pursue Christ! Pursue our families! Enjoy the spoils. God's way is best. Devotional Wed, 11 Jun 2008 10:33:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/6/11/Pricelessand-without-a-forthcoming-Visa-bill http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/5/30/Joy-Futures Next to oil, joy may be the second scarcest commodity these days. Americans are not too much of a joyous lot. Recently a study noted that now medications for depression are the most prescribed medicines on the market. Collectively we hurt and are discouraged. We need new explorations for joy resources for the human family. We need to encourage drilling in the landscape of heretofore undeveloped human experience. Jesus Christ made a connection between what He said and our experience of joy. The idea of our joy being made complete (John 15:11) is a notion universally embraced. We all want complete joy. Could the speech of God be the key to understanding and experiencing the joy for which we have always yearned? In the temptation account Jesus noted that we do not find our subsistence from merely physical sustenance-a good meal. He argued that there is much more than "bread alone" (Matthew 4:4). In fact, He asserted that the Word revealed by God held the power to sustain our existence in a way that belittled the nourishment of food. There is a long history of all of us realizing that bread alone brings no enduring satisfaction. Jesus boldly claimed that fidelity to His Word held out the passage to the good and stable life-the joyous life (Matthew 7:24-27). The reserves for joy most untapped and unexplored are the joys held out to anyone who will embrace the Living Word (Jesus Christ) and make it their glad discipline in life to live out (obey) His way of life. The autobahn to joy runs right through the pages of scripture and is marked out by the map of Jesus' way of living. This, of course, is why I thrill at the privilege of sharing God's Word. Today I will soak in the substance of Psalm 34 in preparation for an upcoming Sunday. All day I will reflect and consider what this text means to our family at Southgate. I will probe just how these verses shape our approach to living and how in obeying their call they merge us into a stream of joy that is found in our obedience. Last week I was reading 2 John. This little book only has thirteen verses. It is a tiny letter. John closes it notifying the readers of a pending visit. He is anxious for the visit to go down...for their sake. He suggests that it will be the occasion of a breakout of full joy, "...I hope to come to you and speak face to face, that your joy may be full". On the surface, a novice reader could conclude that John had a real ego problem. But that is misreading the text and misreading the joy. John was no egomaniac. John was eager to come and speak the Word of God to them because of what it held out for them in joy. John knew that in embracing what God has revealed about Himself, the people following Jesus could come into more joy. I know of the eagerness to which John speaks. What a privilege is mine to expose people to paths of joy in sharing the Word of God and inviting people to respond. Preachers are Johnny Appleseeders of the Word. We just go around and plant seed. When it is united with faith (fleshed out in obedience), joy breaks out in the life. Our highest joys are held out in our embrace of the Word of God. Faith and joy come by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God. Romans 10:17 Hear the Word of the Lord! Find joy in responding to what He says! Devotional Fri, 30 May 2008 11:23:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/5/30/Joy-Futures http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/5/6/This-Too-Will-Pass Southgate is full of some really great families, one of which is the Mazelins. Mark and Janelle are raising the neatest kids and working at honoring God in their home. They have two girls, Caitlin and Claire and two younger preschool boys, Andrew (Drew) and Austin. The girls are reserved and quiet. The boys are full of it, the only kind of boys Andi and I have ever known. Drew has got to be working around four years old, and Austin is bearing down on two or two plus. Two Sundays ago they tried something different as a family as they came to church for Sunday school. They tried having Drew be taken to his Sunday school class by his sisters. I was coming down a set of stairs and was greeted by two rather beleaguered looking girls and one brother who had dashed away and was unresponsive to their overtures to reign him in. Freedom! He was having the time of his life running down the hall. Not even knowing what was going on, I joined the action and playfully ran Drew down. He thought it was great fun. Realizing that I had mistakenly left change in my pocket (I don't like noisy change as I walk around) and desiring to encourage the kids, I stopped and gave each of them the change I had in my pocket for Sunday school. It is a part of their usual routine to have offering, but I was boosting the totals for that Sunday. I gave Drew a dime. I forgot about the whole incident. During the service and while I was preaching, I did notice that they came and got Janelle out of the service. I also noticed (it is amazing how your mind works in preaching and what you notice that is going on in the worship center during the sermon) they came back in to alert Dr. Dave Billing to a "situation". He has been such a blessing to so many. But still it did not register. At home Andi asked me if I had heard what happened to Drew during the service. I had not. "He swallowed his dime in junior church". Way to go Eric! His mom was alerted and went to his side where he sat pensive and remorseful (a foreign posture for this Rough Rider!) and as if he was ready to get in big trouble. "What happened Drew?" "I swallowed my offering." Janelle immediately went on Mom-alert status. She summoned Dave to explore the matter with Drew. He listened to his breathing to insure that he had not aspirated the dime (sucked it down his windpipe). His breathing was fine and Dave assured her that Drew-man would be ok, it would just take a few days of exploratory analysis to sort it all out. This too would pass! So the Mazelin family was involved in a weeklong archeological dig of sorts, you could say-all to no avail. But last Saturday's CT scan revealed for Drew that that projectile was either hiding out in an unknown crevice or else that stealthie dime had made its way unnoticed into the nether world of ingested and voided extras. Upon hearing that news I was actually a little disappointed. I had made the request and I wanted my dime back for a picture with Drew and me. That would have been great for my office. I am sure the dime would have had a shine heretofore unseen in dime-ology! Yes, upon hearing the story I did identify myself and confess my culpable part in being an enabler by giving my friend Drew the dime. It was I! But God helped us both through it. The world is a better place with rambunctious little boys! God be praised for them. Andi and I and the Mazelins know that first hand. Oh, but there is nothing like a little girl...or a high school one! The Mazelins only know a part of that sweetness. They will get the rest when the girls hit high school. Be careful with dimes and little boys! You Have To Laugh Once In A While Tue, 06 May 2008 01:29:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/5/6/This-Too-Will-Pass http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/4/29/Expelled The movie "Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed" got me thinking. Ben Stein stars in this Michael Moore kind of documentary. I found the ninety minutes in the theater provoking. Sure, I thought about the science and the prejudices discussed, but I left thinking about life's crucial expulsion. Many people have expelled God from their life. The testimony from the evolutionary scientists themselves in the film made the connection between embracing the evolutionary matrix and dis-embracing notions about God. Surely there are a number of scientists who both embrace evolutionary science and faith in God. But not all of them do so maintaining a high view of the scriptures. I believe that species evolved within their own kind with adaptations over time. Individual species changed. In this micro sense (micro-evolution), I believe in adaptations within specie. I just do not find compelling notions of macro-evolution where one specie evolves into a higher form of life resulting in a new specie altogether. The fossil record lacks those transitional forms between species. Show me the transitional forms? Harvard's Stephen Jay Gould said once that what happened was that forms developed in evolution to a point where a quantum leap forward in transition was needed. At that point in evolutionary history they simply, with Elvis, left the building...earth's fossil record building. We do not have those forms, but these transitions took place...we are told. And who said brilliant scientists are men without faith? But this is more than just a petty science argument; it is one with great implications and eternal consequence. Expelling God from your life is a weighty matter. Creation and life are as stunning as they are mysterious. Who can unravel the notion that "something came from nothing"? Even those most recognized for scientific prowess cannot prove their theory of origins...anymore than I can prove through reason and science that God created everything that is through the Word of His mouth. But I can herald what is affirmed and revealed, "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth" Genesis 1:1. Going through school it was always the principal who carried out the expulsion orders. Looking back, I cannot remember an illegitimate expulsion, which is a good commentary on their judgment. He would levy the sentence and they would be gone. Then, they were let back in...whether he wanted them back or not. I cannot remember an expulsion that permanently barred a student from returning. I wonder if principals have ever been quick to the trigger of expulsion and then went home and pondered it and entertained a measure of regret about the expulsion. Who of us would not like some judgments back for a second look? Many have expelled God from their life. The action stems from a hundred reasons and more. Their exposure to hypocrisy, nagging guilt, an arrogant heart and more have come together to bring about His expulsion. The movie made me think of kids who have grown up and without ever exploring the scriptures-able to make us wise unto salvation which is in Christ Jesus-they have dismissed God in biology class. He was simply expelled. Many have wanted to over time, but I know of no circumstance where a student expelled the principal. The hierarchy just was not set up that way. He or she was in authority over us in school. The Bible says, "He that comes to God must believe that He is, and believe that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him" Hebrews 11:6. The irony of this expulsion is that though we expel Him out of our life, He is the very one who sustains our existence ("It is in Him that we live and move and have our very being" Acts 17:28). And He always stands ready, while we live, to be recognized again as the Lord of life, Creator and Savior. His grace toward us and love for us move Him to wait for us to re-open our lives to Him, who not only created us, but who loved us and gave Himself for us at Calvary. Some expulsions are remembered for a long time and some pass from view and are scarcely thought of again. To expel God for whatever reason is to set oneself up for mulling over that decision forever...apart from Him. The flip side is full of delight. Forever the redeemed will ponder the joys of welcoming our Creator into our lives. With Adam we pushed Him away and expelled Him. With Adam we find the post-expelling God world less than paradise. Through Jesus, our enfleshed Creator, the passage back to Eden is secured (John 14:6). God relishes ending long dynasties of God-expulsions in our lives! The end of God-expulsions brings us to the delightful beginning of the adventure of knowing and worshiping the very One who made us and sustains our very existence. Good News Tue, 29 Apr 2008 00:55:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/4/29/Expelled http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/4/3/Through-The-Years March of 2008 is over and its passing was a bit significant for Andi and me. It marked thirty years. Yes, thirty years...a thirty year association with Southgate Baptist Church. How that association has enriched our lives! In March of 1978 we came to our first service...a half-hour late. We arrived at 11:00, when the service had started at 10:30 A.M. We were shuttled to the then "overflow room" (now the kitchen area). We sat down, as Dr. Franklin Logsden got up. He had been a former pastor of the Moody Church in Chicago, Illinois. He preached on God coming to Hagar and Ishmael and revealing Himself as Beer-Lahai-roi. It means "You God see me". It became a place-name for God coming to Hagar and sustaining her with His promise and presence. I will always remember that first message that I heard. In the middle of the message, Dr. Logsden unfurled an accordion like mesh of strung together letters cut out of colored construction paper. It was secreted in his Bible. As he spoke about this name for God, "You God see me", he pulled it out and held it up. I said to myself at the time, "I'll never do that". And I have not. But I have never forgot that first message and that name for God has come home to mean a great deal to me as I have been with God's people through the years. I was eighteen and a freshman in my third quarter at Cedarville College (now university). Early on I tried out a Spring clean-up the grounds and tree planting meeting. I connected to the Johnson family that day and had an inkling of a thought that maybe I could belong here. Shirley was clearly the CEO on the project. Bucky and I loyally followed. Paul Ware was the brains but became demure before the organizational skills of Shirley Johnson. The only dissenter was Everett Wipert who pushed back all morning as we planted trees. The banter was classic, neither one of them gave ground and we all laughed and left and went home. After that, I knew a couple of people. That was the beginning. Thirty years later everything is different and the same all at once. Shirley is still organizing. The clothes pantry is organized better than most major department store clothes' warehouses. Everett's wisdom is still in vogue (he always maintained that it was not done snowing flaking until the Forsythia bush had bloomed. I saw one blooming today. Yes, Everett we'll wait on Spring until we see the last flakes). Colby Goodrich, Jr. is still without a mom on earth. Ruth died at thirty-nine in those days. Colby is still here in worship. God be praised...for our hope and more! Whole bunches of people have moved on. Stable jobs in our area and the chance for vocational promotion have not been plentiful. We no sooner get to know great families and God moves them on. Staffs have changed and lay leadership has changed. We are in the midst of the second wave of lay leaders who have taken the baton and are moving forward. It is difficult to describe what this body means to Andi and me. You supported me and followed my basketball games while I was in college. We were married here in June of 1982. We birthed our boys here. An OB/GYN who cares for your wife is worth his weight in gold. We will always live in Dave and Vangie's debt. Your affirmation and generosity helped us through seminary. Your belief in our gifts helped us get our legs in ministry. You let me fail and still loved me and helped to shape me. I was ordained here in May of 1987. And to top it off, in 1995, you entrusted me with the care of the flock. It is a great honor and privilege and a joy of my heart. I covet your prayer. Ok, there were some missteps. What was that 40th year birthday surprise? ? I also do not want to leave the impression that it has been some thirty year uninterrupted love-fest. I have made some people mad and am not on other folk's favorite list. Because I am proud that used to bother me more. It stills bothers me. But my heart now yearns more than ever to be on God's pleasure list. I want Him to take pleasure in me. If that takes place, it doesn't matter how it sorts out with others. If we would all but live for the great day! Let's us live to please Him! Then when we please Him, he makes even our enemies to be at peace with us (Proverbs 16:7). But I have many more friends here and brothers and sisters who have meant the world to me in these last thirty years. Thank you Southgate for the pleasure of your company along this good way following Jesus Christ. There is nothing like a great family to accompany you on the way. Thank you, I will always live grateful for your affection and support. You mean a great deal to us. Shout Outs Thu, 03 Apr 2008 20:22:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/4/3/Through-The-Years http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/3/24/Riding-The-Wake-Out-Of-The-Cemetery "And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice, and yielded up His spirit. And behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom, and the earth shook; and the rocks were split, and the tombs were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised; and coming out of the tombs after His resurrection they entered the holy city and appeared to many." Matthew 27:50-53 One extraordinary event that surrounds the crucifixion of Christ is the raising of a few believing dead at the time of His death. All of the cosmos stood up to notice and participate in this singular most important event in the history of Adam's race. "Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures." 1 Corinthians 15:3 From noon to three in the middle of the day, the sky fell dark (Matthew 27:45). Earthquakes happen from time to time, but as the icing on the cake of the finished work at Calvary, well, that was just way over the top in the coincidence category. All of creation celebrated the accomplishment of His death. The veil ripped...from top to bottom. The rocks split open and with them several tombs in the cemetery. Who could deny that something big was going down? Who could understand how eternal what was being accomplished actually was...or isn't "is"? My personal favorite spoil from the Calvary event is the believing folks whose graves were opened. Isn't it interesting that although several cemetery graves were opened no unbelievers were party to this particular spoil of the death and resurrection of Jesus? Creation seems to anticipate the implications of what would be (Christ's resurrection) by opening these graves. These graves were opened on Good Friday as Jesus gave up His spirit to the Father. The text records that they came out of their tombs "after the resurrection". Now inquiring minds want to know, or so we are told. What did they do between Friday and Sunday? That question made for fascinating banter at the table, as our college sons were home to share a rare meal with the rest of the family. What did they do? They hung out in their graves until Christ's resurrection. What were they doing? Maybe it was just a seasonal reflection but our Caleb suggested that maybe they were watching March madness. It was good for a great round of laughter, but probably not. On Sunday morning they came out. It was the morning of the living dead. What could more accent the promise of Jesus who gives life out of death? Can you imagine the response when they walked into Jerusalem and visited home? What would have been the response when it was yelled in the house that Aunt Suzie was at the front door? "Say what? Who?" These believing families would all have concluded that something never seen before and never experienced yet was going down. The death and resurrection of Jesus was changing everything. It certainly signaled to us that the spoils of the resurrection of Jesus were going to be shared with his own. This was not an individual victory in overcoming sin, death, the grave and hell; but this was a victory for the whole team. He was only the first-fruit. There were going to be others. For all who have savingly believed, it anticipates what is to come-life after death. Reunion with the believing dead. A share in the life, the eternal life of Jesus Christ. While they may not have been watching March Madness, it was indeed madness that astonished others as God's power pulsated through the cemetery and woke up a few believing dead. That was only a foretaste, just a localized manifestation of what will take place on the great day when "the dead in Christ will rise first" (1 Thessalonians 4:16). Even so Lord Jesus come! Devotional Mon, 24 Mar 2008 19:43:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/3/24/Riding-The-Wake-Out-Of-The-Cemetery http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/3/14/Psalms-Why-Gods-Hymnbook-Matters Currently I am preaching a series on the Psalms. We are not going through them in order nor are we taking just the epic Psalms so familiar. We are trying to cover a range of the kinds of Psalms we find in the Psalter (praise and lament and everything). In reading in the midst of the series I ran across something last week that I found very provoking. Walter Brueggeman is a neo-orthodox Old Testament Scholar. I read his stuff carefully and do not agree with everything he writes. But he has a keen mind and an insightful pen. In his little book Praying the Psalms he describes God's actions to move us onto growth and through the experiences of the broken world. Under a heading of "Beyond Our Time of Equilibrium" in a chapter on "Letting Experience Touch the Psalter" Brueggemann says this: "I suggest, in a simple schematic fashion, that our life of faith consists in moving with God in terms of: a.) being securely oriented; b.) being painfully disoriented; and c.) being surprisingly reoriented." He notes that being securely oriented is a situation of equilibrium. We love to be there. It is when we have that sense that all is well. We can even believe that God is "blessing us", his favor resting upon us. I must confess to a gravitation to this station of moving with God. Life seems well and at peace and settled. Isn't this God's design? Isn't this the tangible expression of His blessing? His sentence in the middle of a paragraph stabbed me: "This is the mood of much of the middle-class Church" (page 3). Ouch! Is that us? Is that who we are at Southgate? It sent me thinking and reading the Psalms differently. I find that "painfully disoriented" category to fit and to help with understanding the cries from many of the Psalms. The passion in the cries is full and even raw. How many of us know folks who in the midst of life's brokenness experience painful disorientation of the soul? "Where is God? Why? Where is this going? This doesn't feel right! I am feeling like I stepped outside of the circumference of God's care." Some Psalms are snapshots of such disorientation, painfully scribed out in words. Most do not end there (although Psalm 88 would certainly be an exception). Most end with a surprising reorientation, a "nevertheless, I am continually with you" (Psalm 73:23) style. The reoriented state moves us forward in our trust in God. We are more weathered, leaning at a greater angle from thereafter into the wind of providence. We are more apt to delight in the anticipation of reorientation, notwithstanding the anguish of the disturbed peace (or the change from the secure orientation). Trouble free lives are the envy, but a boring sense of self indulgence can be the price one pays for staying in the security of a serenity not desiring to be bothered by providence that would press our spirit and drive us forward, albeit through anguish at times. Before he died Francis Schaeffer said that the central driving force behind the church in America was a drive for "personal peace and happiness and just to be left alone". God is a genius in His dealings with us. Where are you today? In the midst of a death grip on your hold of this present moment of "secure orientation"? Or are you in the midst of the fearful experience of having the bottom drop out and the pain of disorientation crash in? The old gospel hymn "God Is Still on the Throne" comes to mind. After the resurrection we who follow Jesus carry in our spirits that notion that a surprising reorientation must be just around the corner. Some resolutions are even sorted out in time, while others await that Great Day of the Lord. In the meantime we sing our Psalms and exercise that long obedience in the same direction. We must crucify our insatiable desire to live happily ever after in a secure orientation that is devoid of pressing struggle while we live this side of God's great resolution at that the end of the age. We embrace the providence that He brings with a focus on the heart He has always manifested toward us in Christ. Calvary declares that "He spared not His own Son" (Romans 8:32). So keep going pilgrim. Come on now, chin up, knees down! Let's sing another Psalm! Day by day and with each passing moment Strength I find to meet my trials here Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment I've no cause for worry or for fear He whose heart is kind beyond all measure Gives unto each day what He deems best Lovingly it's part of pain and pleasure Mingling toil with peace and rest (Carolina Sandell Berg) Devotional Fri, 14 Mar 2008 12:09:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/3/14/Psalms-Why-Gods-Hymnbook-Matters http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/2/21/Lost-Reruns Sixteen million people will watch the next Lost episode on TV. This story-line combination of Lord of the Flies, Cast Away, Gilligan's Island and Survivor has rescued ABC from the doldrums and gained a cult following. We are headed for a sixth season climactic end in May of 2010. They are lost. Marooned on a mysterious island somewhere between Sydney, Australia and Los Angeles. But, from whence comes the intrigue? There are notions of lost embedded in our psyche. We are intrigued by Lost but do not come easy to conceding it is true. We seem to have special insight into the lost-ness of others but come begrudgingly to ever confess it of ourselves. Lost reruns unusually happen every summer during family vacations. Most men never concede that they are lost. It seems beyond us. Who needs maps? We claim intuitive knowledge of the whereabouts of whatever it is that we are trying to find. "We're not lost. Of course, we do not need to look at the map, what were you thinking? Do you think I do not know where we are going?" By the way, that is a bluff, we have no idea. We are just too proud to acknowledge what the rest of the family knows clearly. Late one night, past the hour we should already have been at the hotel, map quest dumped me out on some forsaken road that ran out of asphalt. I had lost my way. Gravel road just was not right. My only hope was to acknowledge that I was lost. In fact, that hope was the key. Some turning around was required. I had to change course. An about face was in order...and the catalyst that propelled us onto find our lodging for that night. There was no lodging on what turned into a gravel road. That was a dead end. Long ago a Jewish prophet declared what is true about us. "All of us like sheep have gone astray, Each of us has turned to his own way;" Isaiah 53:6. In a word, we are lost. We have lost the way; the way God intended us to live. We live in the midst of the consequences of these collective choices. Civility is unraveling in the face of our forays outside the way of God. The fabric of what holds us together as creatures is breaking up. There is an individual and societal price to be paid for leaving the ways of God, those boundaries He set up for our good. But our Creator did not brood over the snub nor relish the mess of consequences that we brought upon ourselves. He came to rescue us from our sinful selves in Jesus Christ. That Jewish prophet continued, "Each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him." Good Friday was God's response to the affront of our plunge into lost-ness. He came after us to remove the consequences of our folly and invite us to turn back to His ways. "Repent (turn back) and believe the gospel," were Jesus' first words in Mark1:15. Former slave shipmaster, John Newton wrote a poem about his about face that we sing. Amazing Grace includes the line, "I once was lost, but now I am found." There is no joy in life like finding the way of God and returning to pursue Jesus Christ. ABC's Entertainment president Stephen McPherson tells us that Lost will end with a "highly anticipated and shocking finale." McPherson is reading God's play book or taking video footage of His rehearsal from the stands. We'll all live somewhere forever. God invites us home to Himself. "Turnaround," he says, "and come to live my way! Come home to me." Never was any host more ready to welcome us. The two destinies yet lie in wait before us, perishing or everlasting life. God invites us home with Him forever! Something is wrong. God made it right in Jesus Christ. He invites us into a relationship with Him, life before death and forever. "God loved the world so much that He gave His only unique Son in order that whoever believes in Him would not perish, but have everlasting life." John 3:16 Good News Thu, 21 Feb 2008 08:37:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/2/21/Lost-Reruns http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/2/2/Joseph-M-Stowell Any parent yearning for the right thing dies to have great folks involved with their children. The aspirations of our hearts are informed by 3 John 4 where John says, "I have no greater joy than to see my children walking in the truth." Because of that joy, we break ourselves to get these people around our kids who can influence them for Christ's sake. We love to have them around models that are following hard after the One who loved us and gave Himself for us. Our Abbey has several older young married gals who are interested in her. These ladies love Jesus and it rubs off on Abbey and wets her desire as she is with them and they pour their lives into her. They are worth their weight in gold to Andi and me. We relish every time that Abbey has to be with them. We relish Caleb spending time with this one older young leader in our church. Ben had a neat thing happen in his life. He is a sophomore at Cornerstone University in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We knew they were in a search for a new president, but we are way out of that information loop. Then eight days ago, I received word that they were announcing their new president over the weekend-a guy you would die to have influence your children. When I was in college at Cedarville in the late seventies, it was chapel and what some Cedarville then Dallas Theological Seminary graduate preachers modeled in chapel that stuck home to my heart. I began to ponder my vocational future as I experienced yearnings in my heart to dig deep into the Word of God and communicate it to others. Leading in that provocation was young man in his thirties named Joseph M. Stowell III. He had been the founding pastor at the church where I was attending and now serve, the Southgate Baptist Church. When he opened the Bible, God filleted my heart and exposed my unbelief and my fear and self-centeredness. I majored in Business Administration with an emphasis in management and was headed to Navistar to follow my dad into management there building trucks. But God intercepted that pass and ran beside me in another direction. That change of course was particularly mediated in one hour I spent with Joe in the Spring of 1980 when he was preaching a week of meetings at Cedarville. I took my spirit, which was wrestling with my future and trying to identify what I now know as desires for ministry involvement, into that office and laid it out in front of Joe. He kindly indulged me and encouraged me to not consider why I should not go into ministry with such aspirations, but to think, why shouldn't I (given these yearnings) go into ministry. He gave me permission to think that God could use me. He then talked about an important threshold moment of decision that he had in being counseled years before by our mutual friend, Wendell Kempton. That discussion with Wendell proved decisive for Joe, as did that March of 1980 discussion with Joe proved for me. He encouraged me to pray a prayer that I have utilized these last twenty seven years. "Lord, make me to be your kind of man (a prayer for godliness) and make me to be in your place of ministry." That prayer covers all the bases. Be godly! Be in God's place! What more is there? Joe ended that discussion with a line I was foolish enough to believe, "Eric, let's stay in touch. I am interested in you." And he was serious. And I have. And one of the great blessings of my life has been the times, however infrequent, that Joe has taken me into his circle and we would grab a personal hour here and there. He is one of those guys who gives you his undivided attention when you are with him. I was with him one day with a professor from Wheaton with a great wit who I had just met. He leaned over to me as we were eating lunch and said, "Isn't it great to be one of Joe's five thousand close friends?" We both laughed heartily and gratefully unto the Lord. Joe spoke at my ordination service in 1987. Psalm 11, I will always remember the message. He spoke at my installation service in Grand Ledge, Michigan in January of 1990. That was a surprise gift to me by the leadership of the Church. But it was super bowl night. I felt a little bad...we had a great preacher there...but Joe Montana drew a larger crowd than Joe Stowell. Those kinds of friends in ministry are invaluable. I stand on their shoulders and serve our Lord. I will always live in his debt. So, you could understand our joy in receiving the news last Thursday that Joe was to be announced as president. I immediately emailed Ben the line, "I just feel like something good is about to happen". I told Ben he was going to have a good weekend. He phoned back and said the tease was too much...but we held out. On Monday Ben went to chapel as Joe spoke and was introduced as the new president of Cornerstone University. He waited in line and at his turn, introduced himself as Benjamin Warfield Mounts. Ben is named after a famous Princeton Seminary prof from the 19th and early 20th centuries who loved the Bible and loved his wife all of his days. Years ago when Ben was a boy, I introduced Ben to Joe with his full name. Characteristically, Joe celebrated the introduction and enveloped Ben in a big bear hug and gave a focused few minutes to a college sophomore. Ben walked away and immediately phoned us. His world was just enlarged. God had delivered a grace gift to the university and Ben will benefit from the bounty. And we who yearn to have godly folks around our kids to build into their lives...could not be more pleased! Praise God from whom all blessings flow! Shout Outs Sat, 02 Feb 2008 11:52:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/2/2/Joseph-M-Stowell http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/1/11/Wendell-Kempton As I write, what must be a long and wonderful celebration of a godly man's life is coming to an end. His funeral is today. On Sunday I received word that my friend Wendell Kempton had gone to heaven. Melanoma recently grabbed him by the throat and took his life in full stride in his mid seventies. All of us who follow Jesus are a product of the grace of God and the person of Christ and the people we get to know and the providence He takes us through. One man who influenced me significantly was Dr. Wendell Kempton. His life touched mine and I live in his debt. Coach Callan introduced me to him when I was a cager at Cedarville. He would come and speak to our basketball team and hang out with us when he was on campus. I can still hear his passion in my soul and it resonates as I write. Wendell never recovered from God's love that laid hold of him. He loved basketball. His old basketball coach at BBC (Mead Armstrong) was living out his twilight years in my days there and coming to our games. His teammate at BBC, Stan Ballard, was on the faculty. One of my favorite stories of Dr. Kempton is the one told by Stan concerning a trip home from BBC in a car in need of repair. They broke down. Stan and Wendell got out. As I remember the story, they lifted the hood, made a quick inspection and Wendell suggested they pray. They closed the hood, started the car and kept going. Wendell had laid his hands on the car and prayed. What Stan did not know was that that was a portent of what Wendell would do the rest of his life...lay his hands on people and invoke the Lord's blessing and watch God do wonders. He was a regular part of the speakers group that would share the Word of God during mission focus weeks. That made sense. He was the president of A.B.W.E. (Association of Baptist for World Evangelism) for 30 years ('71-'01). What a distinguished run he had of shepherding that organization along. He was Uncle Wendell to all of the MK's and a father to all of the missionaries. I have been with him at field council meetings. He loved his own and his friends. His dear wife Carolyn, the mother of his children went home to be with the Lord suddenly with a brain aneurysm at what I remember as 42 years old. I never met her. He spoke often of her in those years. In the Spring of 1981 I was invited to speak at his buddy's church (Dan Gelatt) in Elkhart, Indiana. Wendell brought Doug Collins (of Olympic and Philly 76ers NBA basketball fame). Wendell had ministered to Doug in his network in Philly (and to Bob Boone, Mike Schmidt, Dr. J. and Joe Gibbs...all of whom spoke this afternoon at the funeral). We sat in the Gelatt's living room and talked about basketball in the NBA. Doug told us about Hondo's (Havlicek) phenomenal stamina and Red Auerbach's tactics in the opposing locker room at the garden (bolted the windows shut from the inside...and turned the heat up). It was a delightful visit for a good basketball player want-to-be. The chagrin came onto the faces of the kids we ministered to on Sunday of that weekend. "Wow, Doug Collins...but who is that other guy?" was the response as we went room to room. I have a picture somewhere that the church published that weekend with our pictures on each side. It was Babe Ruth walking around with an Enon Little League farm teamer...all over again. What a fun weekend! I ran into his son, Stan, at seminary. Chip off of the block. Smart, well groomed, winsome and engaging. Stan is an able brother. I got to know Mark when he was at Cedarville in the college-coaching loop with Coach Callan. We stayed in touch through the years and I would see Doctor Kempton at various conferences. He came down to Dallas for a week while I was in Seminary. In his company everyone felt like a dear friend. You were his focus. When he announced his retirement he began to take a few trips saying good bye to missionaries, many of whom were there because of decisions they had made about their future while listening to that Dallas Seminary grad preach the gospel and call people to service. I was invited to join his swing through Brazil for two weeks. I remember the year as 2001. At Southgate we had just sent a team down to build a little housing unit for a camp in Recife. I joined our team and then met up with the good bye tour and Dave and Ev Southwell (some of the best company you'll ever share abroad) for two weeks. I will never forget those days. I was with Dr. Kempton there when he received the news of a martyred ABWE missionary in Togo. I got to know Ruth Royer Kempton on that trip. God gave him one classy wonderful gal with whom to finish life. She is a gem. She is lovely and realistic and down to earth and has a heart that beats for Christ like few others. She was perfect for him. Coming home in business class (thanks Dave Southwell, I owe you buddy) I observed an episode of Dr. Kempton rifling through his garments and baggage in a desperate search for his passport, apparently a regular discipline he engaged in (as I picked up from the exasperated looks on Ruth's face). She could handle him very well. After quite an archaeological dig, the passport was unearthed. Ruth rolled her eyes and Wendell asked that I always keep that a secret and I was not to tell...does not that kind of a bond expire when a guy goes home to glory? We sat under Cashew Trees in Recife waiting out an afternoon ride and talked all afternoon. The breeze was as pleasant as the conversation. We were remembering old basketball games he had come to at Cedarville. One night he walked in as the game was starting and I was unconscious. Mount Vernon was in a zone and I could not get the ball enough. I had a big night. It felt better...in front of him...respect and admiration does those kinds of things to you. At his retirement gala when everybody was wanting a piece of him, he left the security entourage (or so it seemed) and the big important people group and came to greet Andi and me. He took time. That was Wendell. Those times and times and half a times with him shaped my life. I will always be grateful. I will miss his company that I shared infrequently but always affectionately. His memory stirs my resolve to go on for Christ. When you head toward fifty your mentors start to go on before you. I hate that. I feel like those giants are so much more the men of God than I am. I stand on their shoulders, call them, seek their company and counsel and find strength to go on. Wendell is gone. His work is done. I am one of a whole ton of people who will miss his company. I am grateful to God for letting me know him and to Don Callan for introducing me. Someone has said, "It is a privilege for a pious man to die." God made Wendell pious and that privilege was his on our Lord's day this past week (that day we remember the first day of that first Easter week). Thank you God for the gift Wendell Kempton was to so many. Thanks for including me in that crowd. Thank you for our hope in Christ- to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. Friendship Fri, 11 Jan 2008 17:05:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2008/1/11/Wendell-Kempton http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/12/28/Hope-Whats-in-a-name I loved naming our children. It brought Andi and me delight to think of what we should name our kids and why. Someday I'll write something on their names (Caleb, Ben and Abbey). While praying with a grieving family the night before last, I thought of how significant a name could be. As I was praying for Freddie and Hope, I got stuck on her name. Let me explain. My freshman year in college, now three decades of winters ago, I met Fred Ricker. We fought it out for the starting basketball job in the opening game. I lost. Freddie started. He is an affable guy with a quick wit and a boatload of fun...and a jumper that was pretty good back in the day. He was dating a sweet girl named Hope, who was the sister to my friend and one of Cedarville's great all time gym-rats, Keith Kirby. Freddie was also the dorm barber who had a knack for feathering our hair on a thin-out-trim that had them lining up for the bathroom barbershop in Freddie's unit. It was always worth a half-hour of good conversation. Freddie left us after a year and went home...and parlayed that bathroom gig into the most famous hair styling shop in Northwest Ohio. Hope was always fun and had a cute giggle that was infectious. God gave Freddie a sweet girl and a tangible expression of His grace when Fred married Hope. Hope is from a great family, as is Freddie. Hope's happy Dad with his round pleasant visage came to follow Jesus with his dear wife and they gave themselves to church planting home missions work in their days. West Virginia, Alaska...wherever God took them, they loaded up and went along...heralding the good news with great joy. Hope was the last gift of a group of children God gave to the family. Hope is that embedded virtue that God loads into our core that drives us through life. Life was retooled on that first Easter morning-much greater than any Copernican or Kuhnian revolution. The empty tomb brought a whole paradigm shift to a weary world listing from the curse of sin. "He is not here, He is risen, just as He said." Matthew 28:6. We began to see what the apostle Paul said when he quoted Hosea and asked about the whereabouts of the sting of death (I Corinthians 15:55). The hope of what will be is, as one friend of mine said recently, like an atomic bomb of certain resolution that has gone off in eternity, and we, yet in anticipation, can feel its sure reverberations in time. Hope is importing to our present reality the substance and experience of what is going to be...ahead of time. It is warehousing what will be before we ever get there. We are saved in hope. And hope does not disappoint (Romans 5:5). Hope is anchored to the integrity of God and his promise (1 Peter 1:2-4). We have an anchor for the soul (Hebrews 6:19). It is not tethered solely to a life unencumbered by tragedy and grief. Hope is durable. It does not flinch in the face of suggestions of its absence. I am sure Pastor and Mrs. Kirby were celebrating "Hope" when their much beloved sweet girl was born. I thought of hope as I prayed on Wednesday night. Right as we were sharing in our Christmas Eve worship here in Springfield (a service in which I quoted the one who said, "We live in a death impregnated world."), the Ricker-Kirby family was summoned to the scene of an accident in Northwest Ohio. A stop sign run, a father dead and his son's girlfriend, Freddie and Hope's dear Hollis, gone as well. The family was alerted and came to the accident site. Presiding there was grandpa, Pastor Kirby, now eighty years old. The onset of the shock of the whole matter began. As I write, three days later, dear Freddie and Hope are finishing a six-hour stint at the funeral home receiving the masses who will wrap their arms around them in affection, before tomorrow's funeral at the high school. Along the way this vibrant seventeen-year-old headed to Cedarville University after graduation had come to savingly believe in Jesus. From that point, she lived with hope and died with hope...suddenly in the accident. Her mother, Hope, was at the tragic scene of the wreck. Fred and Hope had to identify their daughter. Uncle Keith and Aunt Becky had come over to share the news with us the day after Christmas. As I began to pray with them I thought of Fred and Hope and their girls. As I mouthed Hope's name in crying out on her behalf, I was struck. I am praying for Hope...for Hope...for one who all of her days answered to the call of "Hope"-a girl whose parents named her with such a noble moniker. Hope. The well spring for that virtue has its roots tied inextricably to that garden tomb from the first century. Yes, we can have hope...hope-even in the midst of the greatest of tragedies! Jesus lives and he has our hearts. Hope does not deliver us from the tragedies of a broken world reeling from the effects of sin. Death and brokennesses abound, coming on both the houses founded upon the rock (relying on and obeying Jesus) and those upon the sand (those not relying on Jesus: Matthew 7). Hope in Christ delivers us through these experiences. We know that our Redeemer lives! At the last, and in our flesh, we shall see God! Job 19:25-6. The house on the rock stood firm. Upon receiving the news that her husband (Jonathan Edwards) was dead, Sara Edwards wrote these words to her daughter, "What shall I say? A Holy and Good God has covered us with a dark cloud. O that we may kiss the rod, and lay our hands on our mouths! The Lord has done it. He has made me to adore his goodness, that we had him so long. But my God lives; and he has my heart." To whom shall we go? John 6:68. Jesus has the promises of eternal life. And so there is "Hope", a grieving mother in Northwest Ohio and a tangible reality that is a part of the birthright of everyone who has savingly believed in Christ. In a subtle yet important way, through the wisdom of her parents, "Hope" has been spoken in a name in that family, unwittingly, as a reminder of the legacy of Easter. Jesus is the Victor who brings us to Hope! "For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it." Romans 8:24-25 Thank God for Bethlehem that led inevitably to Hope. "Since then the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same, that through death He might render powerless him who had the power of death, that is, the devil; and might deliver those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives." Hebrews 2:14-15 Dear Father, wrap tangible expressions of your presence to help in hours of need all around Freddie and Hope tonight. I love them, but your love for them radically eclipses my own. Pour your love out and pour it upon them. Come near in the midst of their brokenness. Thank you for the hope that is ours in Jesus Christ. Joy to the world No more let sins and sorrows grow, Nor thorns infest the ground; He comes to make His blessings flow Far as the curse is found, Far as the curse is found, Far as, far as, the curse is found. Joy to the world...the Lord has come...and is coming! "and He shall wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there shall no longer be any death; there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain, the first things have passed away." Revelation 21:4 "But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethern, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope." 1 Thessalonians 4:13 Hope Fri, 28 Dec 2007 22:36:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/12/28/Hope-Whats-in-a-name http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/12/9/Joe--Barry A few weeks back Barry Bonds was indicted on charges of lying to a Grand Jury about alleged steroid use. It is an old story now with Bonds being one of the last they have gone after in the Victor Conte Bay Area Lab Co-Operative (BALCO) scandal that has rocked the sports world. It brought Olympic Track great, Marion Jones, to a tearful apology after she finally fessed up herself (after being sentenced) for lying to Federal Investigators back on October 5th. Bonds pleaded not guilty to the charges, as he was arraigned last week and will fight the government's case against him. They are actually charges (perjury to a Grand Jury) that are hard to prove. We'll see where this goes with baseball's all time home run leader*. Of course, this all comes weeks before the George Mitchell report is due. He is the former senator from Maine who is investigating steroid use in baseball and has a report due any day. Baseball is in a bit of a dilemma with one facet of their game, the home run, being tarnished with "roid" use. On November 15th, the same week Bonds was indicted, Joe Nuxhall died. Joe was the beloved "ol' lefthander" who played for the Reds and then broadcast for them on radio from 1967 to 2007. During World War II when pro-players were leaving the ranks for America's greatest generation who fought in Europe and Asia, the scouts for the Reds went to Hamilton to watch one Orville Nuxhall (Joe's father) pitch in a semi-pro league he played in with son Joe. Joe was pitching that night. He was in the ninth grade at fifteen years old and was six two and weighed a hundred and ninety pounds. Forget about Dad, when the scout saw Joe throw, the Reds were after the "ol' lefthander". They signed him to a contract as the youngest player ever to sign and play in the pro's. June 10th, 1944 the youngest pitcher in the modern era went from throwing to eighth and ninth graders in Hamilton, Ohio to facing Hall of Famer, Stan Musial of the Saint Louis Cards. He was fifteen years, ten months and eleven days old. In 1967 after 135 wins and 1372 strikeouts and fourteen years, Joe gave up the field for the press box and broadcast Cincinnati Reds baseball until he died. The last three years he was more sporadic than daily. He called some great teams. He was a staple through the Big Red Machine years of the early and middle seventies. He had a style all of his own. My personal favorite was his patient quiet style some innings that would simply allow the stadium ambiance to fill his mic as he watched the game. Oh sure, he would come in and out, between the beer vender who could be heard and the hot dog man and the general hub-bub that filled the air in the midst of a flat inning. Then of course, he was famous for his trade mark sign off: "This is the ol' lefthander rounding third and headed for home". He would use it after he finished his post game interview and finished his work for the evening. That quip made the Great American Ball Park facade as it is illumined right next to Reds stadium on the side that runs along the interstate. Of course, there is also the "ol' lefthander" in bronze with that characteristic follow through that is on the pavilion grounds of the stadium. All Cincinnati grieved when he died. The Reds nation mourned his passing. Joe is gone. A piece of ol' baseball was buried with Joe. Joe was a relic of an age gone by which had much less money and much more hard work at the forefront of competition. The Babe and Ty Cobb may have drunk, but no one considered their hard living "performance enhancing". Joe was from the "leave it to Beaver" days of pro-baseball. We're sure beyond those days. It is a new day and a new game. Money wins. The American pastime is not so much like the past times. But in that sense baseball is a metaphor for life. The world has changed. Things are not like they used to be. We may look romantically to the ol' world and envy its return. But Doogie, Lucy and Beaver and Andy and Opie are not coming back...even if we whistle the Mayberry song and carry our poles to the fishing hole and skip rocks. Those days are gone. And remember while Opie and Andy skipped rocks adultery was pretty heartily enjoyed, alcoholism was accepted, they smoked on tv and the fear of God did not seem too much more absent than today. Post World War II was just giving us the first chances after the depression to ensconce the dollar as our central idol. We were way too self righteous also...we just kept going to church. We must now learn to live in our age. More importantly for the follower of Jesus, we must learn how to navigate in our age and raise our children, be faithful to our spouse (if we are married), live a chaste life (if we are single) and penetrate our community. Faithfulness to Christ at work and at play has to fit in there somewhere. We are called to get next to the rampant brokenness and engage the world on its turf, which is unfamiliar and can even be obnoxious. We may like the retro world of Beaver and his neighborhood, but that world had its own issues. But there sure seemed to have been simpler days that were less devious and more straight-forward. The way forward in our time is not to go backwards. Randolph Hurst was told once that his paper was not as good as it was before. His quip has always intrigued me, "It never was." I still don't know entirely what he meant, but he was looking forward, not impressed by any accomplishment of the past. We have come into the twenty first century and find ourselves ministering at a tough moment. A bright friend and observer startled me in a conversation earlier in the year when he commented, "Eric, our culture is dying." I wanted to say no, but found little strong evidence to push back. But God has placed us in our times. He has chosen us to be right here right now. While the assumptions that we could make about people's knowledge of the gospel in years gone by gave us a platform to talk to them about Jesus, sin is now a foreign concept to most. Since estrangement (because of sin) is the starting point for gospel understanding, where are we to go with people who start by rejecting "first base"? What are we to do? Do we give up in our days? (By the way, the key is to attractively bring them to the text. The Holy Spirit is the persuader!) No, at Southgate we are galvanized by the challenge of our times. We are not naïve. We will not influence our culture by cute initiatives, although creative thinking honors our Creator. The day has long passed for small dreaming coupled with little effort. Nothing short of bold winsome effort that attracts people to Jesus is in order. We have to get Him in the middle of what we are trying to do. He is the dynamic that draws people in ("if I be lifted up..."). And our ace in the hole, though times change and culture's die and people grow away from Christ haunted Grandma's and auntie's who reminded them all about Jesus, is Jesus Christ himself. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. Hebrews 13:8. We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us when the whole world turns upside down and goes crazy with living outside of God's boundaries. Who knows, maybe in our day God will chose to use us, not unlike century one (which our new century is beginning to bear a striking resemblance to), to start a movement that will turn the whole world upside down...or is that then, right side up (Acts 17:6)? Devotional Sun, 09 Dec 2007 17:01:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/12/9/Joe--Barry http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/11/13/Field-of-Dreams I ran across a story last week that stopped me in my tracks. It is really a parable for our day. The story is really the story about our time. It is about an aspiration for enough that could never be satisfied. While this story is wrenching and tragic and very arresting, it is repeated in similar form all the time. As the Bobsled coach said in Cool Runnings, "If you are not enough without it, you'll never be enough with it." Let me explain. And remember, it was Jesus Christ who came to satisfy our deepest longings and bring us to a contentment tied exclusively to relating to Him. "I have come that you might really live." John 10:10. Seeking first the kingdom of God and Jesus' righteousness has its own reward. All those other things are just "added unto us-es" (Matthew 6:33). He was an ace lefty pitcher that was outstanding. He was a D-1 powerhouse's first recruit one year. And boy did he deliver. He brought it pitch after pitch into this storied program's record book. There was that college World Series championship as well. They whisked through the series on his arm. Wasn't that a "perfect game" from the mound at the series that helped bring home the championship? He was at the top of his game and the aspiration of his heart was the bigs. [More] Devotional Tue, 13 Nov 2007 15:50:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/11/13/Field-of-Dreams http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/10/25/Welcome-home There we were together on the sidewalk this past Saturday at Southgate. I went to the west end to catch a glimpse of the bus returning. It was carrying the 30 members of the HHD 237th FSB Forward 2 from the Ohio Army National Guard who deployed fifteen months ago in July of 2006 being mustered out from Springfield. They were home and just about to meet their families. I wanted to go over and see them come up the boulevard with the escort of a cadre of Vietnam veterans who picked them up on motorcycles when they came into Ohio from Indiana. As they rolled in I found myself standing next to him. He was a little man whose Dad had been gone...for a long time. When you are ten years old, fourteen months is equivalent to five and a half years of your life at fifty. Now he could no longer contain the wait. It was when he started to whimper that he pulled me in. I noticed him. He could not hold it in. He began to jump up and down holding up his sign ("Welcome Home Dad!"). He was crying and jumping, trying to yell and chop-crying at the same time. He was exploding right next to me. As the crowd of one hundred and fifty plus received the men and women returning from their service in Mosul, Iraq, the little man disappeared in a sea of people coming near the throng mustering around the bus door. The wait was over. Dad was home. What a happy day! It was such a privilege for our church to host the event. The guard had contacted us about receiving the men and women as they met their families. It was a rather elaborate ceremony in several phases. After thirty minutes of hugs and kisses, they marched in with some good Scottish fare with bagpipes a blaring. Then the VIP's spoke. Congressman David Hobson made his way forward to welcome them along with the upper tier of officers in the Ohio Army Guard. Mayor Copeland was here, Governor Strickland's emissary as well as Senator Voinivich's dispatch. Then a break was followed by a range of cool gifts given to each soldier. Among the gifts from the United States Army was also a package we added from our church for each soldier. We gave them a new Bible, a DVD called "Hope" which winsomely explains the gospel and a $25 gift card from Cracker Barrel. I am grateful to serve at a place that is willing to extend our ministry and has the latitude to do that because faithful givers sustain this work yearning for Christ to be known. What a happy event! Not all my events are happy...that one sure was. Hugs and kisses and tears and smiles and pats on the back and awards and ceremony and dignitaries and families...happy to be back together. I'll most remember that little boy's joy. I also thought about our pending reception in heaven when "our bus rolls in". Vance Havner (an old North Carolina Mountain preacher now gone) used to tell the story of traveling in ministry as young man and returning home by rail to be received at the station by his father with his standard query. "Well, how'd you get along?" Some day our labors will be over. The anxiety and stress of life in this broken world will abate. For everyone who has savingly believed in Christ, that last bit of consciousness here will give way to the ushering that will land us in the very presence of the One who loved us and gave Himself for us. The journey will be over. Our deeds here all completed. I thought about how those returning soldiers must have felt on the bus. Finally home! The deeds called upon to be accomplished all finished. The 237th vetted Iraqis for employment and services taking finger prints and doing interviews and taking pictures and issuing ID's. They ran some forty eight hundred through the process mill in their stint and issued nearly eight-thousand badges. Among their sixty nine referrals for counter-intelligence leads was a hit on a finger print from an IED on a person they were vetting. That dude did not hang around long. The State department gobbled him right up. But now, their work was done. It was over. It was time to get off of the bus. Our time will come too. There will be a reception on that day...a day that my aunt and uncle used to rehearse with an old gospel song called "Glad Reunion Day". How proud those soldiers were of their service! They were done and walked off the bus...at home. For followers of Jesus, our bus will pull in someday...into the grandest of central stations. Yes, and we'll step off...home forever. When a hard day comes along and I have to hack my way machete-like through it, I think of that song, "It will be worth it all, when we see Jesus". If we can just push through the hard days, the bus will pull in all too soon enough and we'll lament that we have no further opportunities to invest in the work before we had been received at home. "One glimpse of his dear face,<br> All sorrow will erase<br> So bravely run the race<br> Till we see God!" Let's all keep going! As Spurgeon used to say, "A few more stormy days at most, shall land me on fair Canaan's coast." "It will be worth it all, when we see Christ!" Devotional Thu, 25 Oct 2007 11:12:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/10/25/Welcome-home http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/10/17/Major-J-T-Young On our AWANA Hall of Fame board recognizing Timothy Awards from 1982, there are two initials and a last name etched on one gold plate. "J. T. Young". Twenty five years later, I am saluting Major J. T. Young of the United States Marine Corp. He made Major as he passed through this year in the Marine Corp...his eighteenth. J.T. is stationed in Jacksonville, North Carolina with the Second Marine Aircraft Wing. It is a big picture macro unit which presides over training and operations for a whole wing of the Corp. Among other duties, Major Young is the Anti-terrorism officer who insures the particular programs related to the required force protection of his unit. As an officer he hangs out with competent professionals in pilots and fellow officers. He shares company with the cream of the Marine crop. That is rarified produce! The best of a great Corp. He is stationed there with his wife Kelly and their two boys: Brodi (age 4) and Colbi (age 2). (By the way, my wife and I are convinced that there is something a family with two boys understands that others families just can't get.) He is married to a Meg Ryan look-alike. She goes rather by Kelly. She is sweet gal. I had the privilege of officiating their wedding a few years back. He looked great in that Marine dress uniform. What about that Marine sword? And marrying "Meg Ryan" on top of it all. He is an aviator with the Marines. He has flown huey choppers (UH 1 Iroquois) for them. Carted Oli North around once in Iraq! Go J. T.! J.T. has weathered three deployments in Iraq. In 2003 he was deployed with the H.M.L.A. (Helicopter Marine Light Attack) #269th for six months. He hooked up with the H.M.L.A. (and you thought that stood for some internet conversion font type!) #167th for another tour in 2004. He was on the ground with a Marine reconnaissance unit in 2005 (2nd Marine Recon Battalion). That last deployment had a different texture. War is different on the ground than from the air, although of course, threats abound in a war theater...on the ground and in the air. And when your boys are born and begin to grow up a little, the deployments are harder. My favorite part of the life of Major Young is his devotion to His Lord, Jesus Christ. J.T. is not playing about his resolve to honor Christ with his life. Two truths have kept him going in the Corp- a group which can be at odds with a guy's resolve to stay with the life of faith. These two bedrock truths are pillars holding up his resolve to persevere and thrive as a Marine who follows Jesus. One, Jesus Christ is the only way to God (John 14:6, Acts 4:12). Two, God is the absolute sovereign of our universe and presides in holy rule over all the affairs of men (Isaiah 40:21-26, Psalm 2). Between these two posts, J.T. has worked out his own salvation with fear and trembling...in the Marine Corp. I will long remember his report to our small group (which his Dad and Mom are apart) regarding his first deployment. He took us to Psalm 27:1-3, "The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the defense of my life; Whom shall I dread? When evildoers came upon me to devour my flesh, My adversaries and my enemies, they stumbled and fell. Though a host encamp against me, My heart will not fear; Though war arise against me, In spite of this I shall be confident." I cannot now read those verses without thinking of Him and our Father who is in heaven who sustains us through the providence we face here on earth...in Iraq or Springfield. The location does not matter. His provision is available to all who will lay hold of Him. The Lord is the saving defense of our lives! So today, I give a shout out to a neat guy with a cool family who grew up here at Southgate, Major J.T. Young, U.S.M.C. Thanks for serving J.T. We are proud of you and should all pray for you more. Keep going! Thank you buddy! Shout Outs Wed, 17 Oct 2007 09:21:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/10/17/Major-J-T-Young http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/10/3/Oil-Futures We are not given much to oil lamps. Maybe some who camp use oil for lamps, but the majority of us have long since given up lamps with oil for good ole' Ohio Edison. As long as they stay up and going, we are good and content with the light switch. But back in the day there was something critical about having oil in the lamp to keep it burning. That old picture of oil for fuel for the burning lamp and the importance of its sustenance became a routine and staple metaphor for persevering in faithfulness to Christ. Somewhere at some time somebody wrote that old chorus, "Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning." Maybe the chorus was a footnote on Jesus' parable about being ready for his coming, Matthew 25 or a muse upon Matthew 5 and letting our lights shine. All of us need the sweet oil of God to keep us "burning"-to keep the lights on. Who of us does not experience a sense from time to time that the oil is running dry and the candlewick power on the lamp is going down? In the summer of 1980 I was in Australia playing basketball and hooked up with a dear brother who visited a prison regularly with gospel ministry. I joined him for one visit to the prison. There was an Aboriginal brother there who was in charge of worship...that meant he brought his guitar. I remember the roof being raised in praise with "Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning". He introduced me to rhythmic patterns that I do not believe even Stevie Wonder or Johnny Legend have ever tried. He strummed and hit on the face plate of the guitar and went into orbit with a few rounds of "give me oil in my lamp". There he was rotting away in some cell in Australia, biding his time with praise to the God he loved and with cries that the God who forgave him would sustain his lamp with reservoirs of oil from heaven. Clearly, he yearned to keep burning. His yearning was contagious. Everyone in the room was moved to aspire for more oil. It still resonates with me when I remember his singing and playing (and those rhythmic patterns) twenty six years later. Oil in my lamp. One of the chief reasons that I like the metaphor is that it concedes that we are not firing up the lamp with our own illumination. We need to take that fuel on board. It is oil provided to us by the living God. Often in scripture oil was emblematic of the Holy Spirit of God poured out. "Be filled with the Spirit of God." Spirit baptism comes with regeneration (Titus 3:5, Romans 8:9 and 1 Corinthians 12:13). But the filling of the Spirit is a repeated event. We are commanded to be filled (Ephesians 5:18). Apart from Jesus we can do nothing (John 15:5). Since that is true, we need His sanction and the sacred anointing that His spirit brings to our lives. Growing up in my country Pentecostal church there was a faithful couple who would come to our church for that periodic "revival". They were brother and sister Addis. Sister Addis would support her husband's work with her accordion and her voice, plying her gifts to the calling God had placed on her life. She used to sing a sweet old chorus entitled "Fresh Oil from the Throne". I think of it and sing it often in prayer. Clearly, we need the Lord's sanction over our efforts to make Christ known and lift up this One who loved us and gave Himself for us. We need that of which Phyllis sang just to be sustained with vivid life along this good way following Jesus. We need sustenance outside of ourselves to keep going. The oil of God is available and He yearns to pour it out and fill us up. How is the meter reading where you are today? What is the gage saying about us? Quarter tank? Empty? Half full? Brim full and overflowing? Perseverance and fuel for the journey are like manna. You cannot hoard up a big gob and prepare today for all that you will need in the future. It is a daily trip to the fuel center that we need. It is there at the throne of grace that we cry out for oil for the lamp. I have found that the tank will only take a day's worth and then I have to come back. God was a genius when he built the capacity for the tank. It requires daily maintenance. Oh, how we need that oil from the throne! We are told that oil and the quest for that fossil fuel controls the whole world and moves it economically. That is fitting because all along followers of Jesus have known of our desperate need for oil to keep our lamp burning. In some Hanukah kind of way, it keeps us burning and going forward through God's miraculous grace. "Pour it on Lord, give us oil in our lamps keep us burning! Keep us burning till the break of day...Sing, Hosanna, sing Hosanna, sing Hosanna to the King of Kings! Sing Hosanna to the King!" Devotional Wed, 03 Oct 2007 10:01:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/10/3/Oil-Futures http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/9/18/Fall-Concert-Series God is amazing in His creativity. It is astounding to think that He created what He did to both bring glory to Himself and pleasure to His creatures. His intention of creating that which had our delight in mind is striking. It is that motive-transmission of God which drives creation with, among other gears, the one of "pleasing to the eye and good for food" (Genesis 2:9). He had our refreshment in mind when He made all that He made. In the fall, he hosts a concert series every evening. For this reason I look forward to the fall. The orchestra is quite natural and spontaneous. God is the only conductor I have ever been able to discern. But as the afternoon wanes and evening falls, they take off. What is cool is that they are not all in unison. Everyone jumps in with her and his own specialty to add to the rich luster of sound. In fact, it is more like Jazz improvising than it is working with a tight well written score. But it is fabulous stuff. It is the one time where Judges 17:6 works...because God is a genius. Everyone is doing that which is right in his own eyes...and it is all good...and makes for incredible music. I am speaking, of course, of the voices of insects which are joined together for an astounding mix of glory. We all know the classic rich tenor of the cricket. That full bellow-fellow does a lot of solos all the time. But in the fall, he joins other homies and they belt it out together. I cannot get my hands around how many God has put in this orchestra. I love to listen and to count the "instruments" in the fray. Some offer one tone...continually. Some have some vocal (or is it instrumental?) variety in pitch. By the way, how do they make those sounds? Some come in and out. The locusts cuts in every once in a while for a dramatic solo, then fades out. They mesh together so sweetly. I love to go to sleep listening to them. But I must confess, I usually only get a few bars in before I am off to the land of nod-taken there on the backs of this army of musicians. If you are not careful you will miss it. It is background music for life in the fall. We can get so busy we can neglect listening for it. Yesterday, after a long and hard and gratifying week, I had to take a day away from the office. I took a long walk and I listened. Were they not in the zone yesterday? Of course, that is how they always are! Andi and I have at times tried to figure out just how many are in the troupe. We try to identify and count the various sounds and imagine just how many are playing their part. We try very unsuccessfully to mimic the sound we are trying to point out. Clearly God gave them some ability we do not have. I can't make those sounds. Some low. Some high. Some constant. Some intermittent. All together. To listen to this fall series in enlivening. They sing a lot of the year and fall silent in winter, or is it play? But I just notice them as fall comes in ways that I do not at other times. And when I listen to them, I think of Adam's race. We too were created with purpose and for a reason. We were made to relate to the living God through Jesus Christ. I love the C. S. Lewis' analogy of our created purpose. We were made to "run" on God as a gasoline engine was made to run on gasoline. We were brought into existence from the very beginning to respond to God and glorify and enjoy him. This is man's primary purpose. Sin has botched it all up, but that was it from the beginning. Those insects have many purposes ordained by God but one that they do very well is to host these fall concerts. (And they are free!) Yet, even as I listen to them do what they do...do what they were created to do, I think of us. They do it all so well. They are fulfilling their created purpose. As God surveys this broken world waiting to be redeemed, across the landscape he must be encouraged to observe in the insect world perfect fidelity to His intent. They were born to make sweet music and no doubt for other purposes that an "insect-ologist" (What are they called?) could tell us about. They joyfully, or so it sounds, fulfill what God demands from them. If an insect is fulfilling her God ordained purpose and bringing God pleasure, what about us? What music in life has God created us to make? What related to others and relatedness to Him brings sweet music to His ears? Those insects doing their "job" and fulfilling their created purpose lead me to want to do mine. God made me and God made you to relate to Him. The wonder of His saving grace is that His work in us (as we give ourselves to the very reasons why He brought us into existence) makes for beautiful music that can likewise enliven others who care to listen. What kind of sounds are coming from my life? How about yours? God is amazing. "For every star you can see in the sky on a clear night, scientists have estimated that there are 100 kinds of insects-a total of over 800,000 kinds. There are billions of insects of each kind. Throughout history, insects have covered the earth in great numbers" (The Bible Almanac, Nelson Publishing, p. 240)...singing up a storm! Bringing glory to the God who made them! Today I have a more modest plea. "Help me to glorify you, like an insect involved in one of those concerts!" Woodstock had nothing on precedents for outdoor events. God was way ahead all along-overseeing an amazing display of His glory which is missed to all of the inattentive. Don't miss the concert! Genesis Tue, 18 Sep 2007 11:49:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/9/18/Fall-Concert-Series http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/9/5/Skunky-Prayer-Walk "And Enoch walked with God..." Genesis 5:24 It has been the habit of my Christian life to practice the discipline of walking and praying. It may be less of a commentary on my piety and more of a commentary on an adult with some kind of attention disorder. It may also stem from the idyllic vision of Enoch described by Moses in Genesis 5:24. I want nothing less to be said of my life than that at least I walked with God. Is there any more that we ought to reach for in life? I am praying as I walk with Christ. Feeling such an obligation in my conscience for duty before His people, the Saturday night prayer walks are particularly pointed and driven. I want to live so that on the great day God does not say to me, "Eric, what were you thinking?" Hence, we pour over it together on Saturday nights. [More] Prayer Wed, 05 Sep 2007 13:05:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/9/5/Skunky-Prayer-Walk http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/8/27/The-Amish-Brigade I have always been fascinated by the Amish Community and their Barn raising tendencies. That co-operative spirit captures the heart of a burden sharing and loving community. We have a print in our living room at home that the church gave us that pictures a classic P. Buckley Moss Amish barn-raising. Those people know how to work...and get the job done together. Is not that the ideal? The way God created us to relate to each other? There are a group of Amish men who go to our church. They lack beards and wear clothes with zippers and none of them drive their buggy's to the work site, but the Homebuilder men have developed a reputation of coming together with a co-operative spirit and meeting other people's needs. They came up big on this past Saturday. And some are taking notice trying to figure it all out. [More] The Church: The Body of Christ Mon, 27 Aug 2007 15:45:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/8/27/The-Amish-Brigade http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/8/15/On-Friendship-and-Delta-Force "Delta Force" is the popular name we have given to the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta (1st SFOD-D), our most elite troops of the United States Army. They were rumored to be but broke into the open through the movie Blackhawk Down and the assault on the compound in the October 3, 1993 Battle of Mogadishu in Somalia. On Monday Delta came through with force and it did involve Special Forces, at least a Colonel and Battalion commander of a multi-national NATO force of Special Forces warriors. Let me explain. [More] Friendship Wed, 15 Aug 2007 16:23:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/8/15/On-Friendship-and-Delta-Force http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/8/10/On-Bumper-Stickers-Provocation-and-a-day-with-Steve-Saint I was tired and sleepy as I was negotiating my exit on 465 in North Indianapolis... when I saw it. The car passed me and it grabbed me by the throat. I could see the car coming. It had a unique appearance. Almost every square inch of the car was covered with bumper stickers. It was a rolling billboard for ideas and causes that the driver wanted to market. But one sticker caught my eye. I had never seen it before. "GOD IS PRETEND". Immediately I found my spirit on the defensive. How dare they insult that which is most dear to me? How can they say such a thing? Yet, their assertion was one with which they were comfortable. What evidence could I bring that the Unseen and Eternal God of the ages is at home in the universe and can be known? Oh sure, there is His unmistakable imprint in creation and I also have the speech of God and His magnificent and wonderful promises (2 Peter 1:4). But I was challenged to ask, "Am I following cleverly devised tales? Am I chasing a myth? Am I playing pretend?" [More] Faith Fri, 10 Aug 2007 08:20:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/8/10/On-Bumper-Stickers-Provocation-and-a-day-with-Steve-Saint http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/7/24/Why-The-View-From-The-Milkhouse "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, And before you were born I consecrated you; I have appointed you a prophet to the nations." Jeremiah 1:5 God is a genius. He is always way out in front forging the contour of the good works he has pre-ordained that we would walk in (Ephesians 2:10). He is incredibly creative in both the formal and informal ways he works to shape us for the future he has for us. He works in ways we cannot see and often is doing things that are imperceptible at the time, but in retrospect leave the indelible imprint of the wisdom of God worked out in prior providence that has made its mark on our lives. I launch this blog with an explanatory first entry. "Wilt Dairy: A View from the Milk House". What's that? Well, let me explain. I grew up milking sweet Jersey cows on my uncle's one hundred and twenty acres. Unknown to me, God was using my time working next to my Uncle Dick to prepare me for pastoral ministry. I have spent the last twenty five years of my life working hard at formal training for pastoral ministry. But looking back, what I gleaned working next to my Uncle as he cared for his herd was at least as beneficial as the sum of my great training I received formally at Cedarville University, Dallas Theological Seminary and Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. The Jersey herd was of modest size (around fifty active milking cows, with a retinue of dry cows out to pasture and always heifers coming on somewhere) but of immodest quality. On test one year in the late sixties, Uncle Dick's herd had tested one of the highest percentages of fat in the milk of any herd on test in Ohio. While that's Jerseys for you, he was out-fatting the other Jersey herds on test. The parlor was unpretentious, stanchions for eight. Six bunches and some stragglers and you were done. An hour and forty five minutes and you were in and out...twice a day. The cows were Uncle Dick's livelihood. That was back in the day when government subsidies for milk price still made it worth the while for a small family farm to milk. The more I observed Uncle Dick around the herd the more I understood what made him tick and what got him out of bed in the morning-besides the call of the cows who yearned to be milked. One of the things I noticed first about being with him in the milking parlor was how he knew all of the cow's names and he would use them. They knew his voice and were responsive. He would gently call out to them before kneeling beside them in the stanchion row before washing their teats to put the Milker on. I had a sense that they knew he cared for them. They moved over gently to let him in as he stepped in. More than once I was not given such deference. But I was just a plebe breaking in. He had bred them. He had fed them as calves. He had bred their heifers and groomed them when they were sick. He had preserved good blood lines and worked to maintain excellence in the herd. But rarely did we yard cows (take them out of the herd to the stock yards for sale). He made it work with them. To him this was not a job, this was a way of life. The herd seemed to have a sense of that. They seemed as eager to please him as he was to serve them and keep them going. It was long summer days of bailing to make for sustenance through the winter. It was periodic and careful mixing of the right ingredients to make the grain mix that they inhaled as they stood in the parlor. The planting and harvest was all orchestrated around serving the enterprise of keeping the herd going. It was a trust he kept with them, an unwritten contract of faithfulness to them. There was death and life in the herd. Life was always so much more fun and death was rare. I can only remember losing one cow. Uncle Dick went down swinging trying to save her. She ate something and went down in the field. The night she died, they were out there holding her head with an IV in her neck trying to pull her through. We drug her up the next morning for the road truck. Uncle Dick knew that many things were out his hands as he cared for the herd. Oh the exhilaration of new birth! Fresh cows with their calves are a wonder to behold. The nurture that mom gives the fledging one as soon as it hits the ground is extraordinary. God is way out in the front there too, having put in the udder just the right ingredients to push that young one off to a great start. In the long days of June full of light, glory and lush pasture, the cows would often be at the back of the fields at the very time we were to begin milking. As long as Uncle Dick was around, we were way good. He had a distinct call for them that was something like a cross between "sooie" and "suck" drawn out in some sweet Arkansas accent, slow and deliberate and articulated with passion. But the marvel was that one call, and then another and the herd would respond. Down they would come from the back of the fields. We would all try to mimic that call. But none could do it like Uncle Dick. The cows are gone now and Uncle Dick has out stripped three score and ten by ten years. He still drives the tractor for some bailing and gets involved in planting and harvest, but now no shepherding is required on the farm. The days of the stock are gone. But for most of the seventies God was teaching me, albeit unconsciously, about the finer disciplines of shepherding the flock. The leader knows their names and their character and nurtures their health and feeds them well. He is always thinking of their welfare and how to keep them going strong and with vigor. He puts their needs ahead of his own and lays himself down for their good. The best are most responsive. But even in a good herd, they are not all angels. I think I remember Dutchess even kicking him a few times. But, certainly she tried more wacks at me than she ever gave Uncle Dick...his whole career. So I left the farm, graduating from the school I did not even know I had enrolled in. I finished the course I did not know I signed up for: shepherding the flock. I was next to a model deeply devoted to his herd. They were his calling. He was faithful. He was to those Jersey girls what King David was to Israel as he had led so long ago "with the skillfulness of his hands and the integrity of his heart" Psalm 78:72. It was a modest work that not too many noticed. But it was good work. You don't have to be noticed to do good work. For fun and playfully one night in the milk house, we invented the name "Wilt Dairy". Oh sure, Young's (Yellow Springs, Ohio) had their dairy, but we were the Wilts. My cousin Doug and I forged the name one night finishing up. It stuck. The next night I went to work with my orange milk hat with the newly minted letters on the front "W" "D". We all still smile when we think of that title. Hence, the name of this blog. Two thousand years ago, God entered history in the person of His son Jesus Christ. He is the great Shepherd of God's sheep. He pursued us, even when we were disinterested in Him and estranged from him because of our sin. In his great love for us, he laid down his life on the cross taking the punishment for our sin upon himself. He was raised from the dead proving that he could deliver on who he said he was and bring home the promise of eternal life. He gave up everything he had before Bethlehem and gave everything he had on earth so that we could have everything out of our reach from God (forgiveness, a relationship, the hope of eternal life). God is inviting all of us to recognize our sin, to repent and acknowledge his love for us in Christ and devote our lives to following hard after the lifestyle of Jesus, that great shepherd of God's sheep. God has called me to shepherd his flock as an under-shepherd. So for the few days that I have to live on earth before I die, God has given me the privilege to serve his people-a task I was unwittingly trained in while serving my Uncle at Wilt Dairy. "Father, thank you for filling my life with purpose and meaning through the vocation that you have called me to. Thank you for being so way ahead in preparing me for what was coming. Make me to be faithful to you and to please you in my duties of caring for your flock. Bring new birth to the flock. We'll all live somewhere forever. Allow me to know of your sanction that would enable the call of God to ring with such clarity that many would hear of Jesus and come to repent of their sin and relate to him and know of the joy of hope and peace with God. Forsake not the work of my own hands. Your grateful son, Eric" "The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want." Psalm 23:1 Genesis Tue, 24 Jul 2007 09:06:00-0500 http://blog.southgatechurch.org/Milkhouse/index.cfm/2007/7/24/Why-The-View-From-The-Milkhouse