As the doctor examined him, Rubinstein kept talking.

"I know this is serious," he said, "and I want you to know that I can handle bad news."

The doctor continued his examination in silence.

"I've lived a full life," Rubinstein continued talking, "and can face death with no regrets. So whatever you find, I can take it. Don't soften it; just tell me the truth."

The doctor put down his stethoscope and said, "Your problem isn't that you have cancer. Your problem is that you talk too much!"

I spoke for this year's graduation at Reformed Theological Seminary where I've taught for the last 15 years. I'm glad to report that I did it and didn't make a fool of myself.

But the best part was that I didn't talk too much.

In fact, the shortness of the speech/sermon was my gift to the graduating class. It was also my gift to the faculty who, like me, has suffered through years of long, tedious and boring graduation speeches.

What I'm saying is that while the speech may not have been altogether that great…at least it was short. For that, a lot of students, faculty and guests at the graduation "rose up and called me blessed."

Proverbs 17:28 says, "Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent."

Do you ever think that maybe we Christians talk too much?I do. And not only that, I'm often the one who talks too much. I make my living talking and that can be dangerous because you learn to just keep talking "until something comes to mind."

There is an interesting verse in the prophecy of the coming Messiah (the "suffering servant"). In Isaiah 53:7, the prophet writes:

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
yet he opened not his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.

Of late, I've thought a lot about talking too much. What follows is my own confession; but, frankly, I know you guys. You might benefit by some of what follows too.

One of the reasons I talk too much is that I'm into control. If you are the adult child of an alcoholic, you probably have the same problem. Every time things got out of control, we got hurt. So, to this day, we work very hard to control everything we can.

I have this deep voice (if I looked the way I sounded, I would have a television ministry) and have worked very hard to speak, teach and preach with skill. When I was a kid right after my voiced changed from a squeak to a foghorn, a teacher said to me, "Stephen, you must be careful what you say because people are going to listen to you." I've tried to follow that advice and "talk good" for Jesus…but also because I need to try to control things, events and people.

Jesus didn't try to control anything. He just went with what God ordained. He was God, but didn't "grasp that to himself." He "made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant…he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross" (Philippians 2:7-8).

Because Jesus was not into control, I don't have to be. He now controls everything and the more I let him rule, the less I have to talk.

Another reason I talk too much is that I'm constantly trying to justify myself, what I say, what I've written or what I do. I have this belief that if I can just say it right and keep saying it, people will understand and love me.

I recently interviewed Tony Campolo. (He's a regular guest here at stevebrownetc.com and, no, I don't agree with him most of the time…but I do love him.) Tony talked about forgiveness and related the time he spoke at a prayer service in Northern Ireland with both Catholics and Protestants. He said the Protestants were on one side of the room and the Catholics on the other.

In their turn, both Protestants and Catholics stood and said to the other side of the room, "I've done some horrible things and I'm so ashamed. I ask you to forgive me."

Then the other side of the room said in unison, "In the name of Jesus Christ and because of him, you're forgiven and I forgive you!"

I am too!

If I am forgiven it means that I have a bunch of stuff about which I need to be forgiven (so why pretend that I don't?) and, if that's true, I don't have to defend myself against charges that are probably true anyway. Even if I'm guilty (and I am), I'm forgiven. When I remember that, I talk less.

And there is one other reason I talk too much. (Well…probably a lot of other reasons, but I'm running out of space and time here and, after all, I am writing about saying less.) I talk too much because I'm not altogether confident in God's acceptance of and love for me.

Jesus rested in the confidence that his Father loved and accepted him and, in fact, prayed that we would have the same experience. A part of the prayer he prayed in John 17 was that we would be one: "I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me" (vs. 23).

Psalms 131 is one of my favorite psalms. I love these words: "I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother" (vs. 1-2).

Each morning, I tell God about my sins, I tell him where I'm afraid and sometimes I even tell him what I think he did wrong. After all the words have been spoken (sometimes a whole lot of words), I think I hear him say, "You through? Try to remember that I love you."

When I'm quiet enough to hear that, I find myself talking less during the day.

One time Saint Francis went into a village and discovered that the people had built a church building, naming it after him. He instructed his monks to tear down the church which they did.

As they walked away from the village, one of the monks said to Francis, "I thought we came to preach."

Francis replied, "We did."

Maybe we need to preach more like that, to wit, witness to Jesus-his love and grace-everywhere we go. And as someone has said, "when absolutely necessary use words."

Enough. This is already almost as long as my graduation speech.

"Be still…

…and know that I am God!"

In fact, God told me you would receive three free sins if you helped me out and, not only that, you would have a grateful pastor.

(No, it isn’t indulgences. I can’t really give you free sins!)

Okay, I want to make sure you know about PoopedPastors.com.

I have a major concern for pastors. It’s a concern not dissimilar to a former drunk having a concern for someone not yet set free from booze. Okay…uh…not a great analogy.

Let’s say it’s a concern of someone who has a lot of wounds reaching out to someone who is still in the battle.

We get hundreds of emails, letters and phone calls from pastors, and those come immediately to my desk. That means I spend a considerable portion of my time talking, praying, crying and laughing with pastors.

After a lot of discussion, we decided to create a “soft place” for pastors. That soft place is PoopedPastors.com and your pastor needs to know about it. It’s a great website with piles of content to help make what is a very hard job, doable. There are thousands of pastors at the website who have been there, done that and have a pile of T-shirts. I do a weekly video and often write a blog. We have a pastor’s psychologist, a health and fitness guy, a special place for youth pastors, and a variety of others who can come alongside your pastor to help him get through the day.

And then there are forums (no, you can’t go on them) for pastors to share anonymously whatever is on their hearts and to have a pile of pastors again come alongside and help out.

There is a lot more, but I wanted you to know so you could tell your pastor.

Okay, maybe you won’t get free sins and maybe your pastor won’t rise up and call you blessed.

But it still would be a good thing if you told your pastor.

Especially after all that Jesus has done for you! : )

(Oh, if you are a pastor and haven’t yet visited the website, do it now! It might keep you from becoming a Buddhist.)

Who are they?

I’m glad you asked. Joe is our Italian agency guy, the president of Renaissance Agency in New Jersey, and the least slick person you ever met.

(Tony Campolo asked me a couple of weeks ago if I knew the difference between an Italian wedding and an Italian funeral. I allowed that I didn’t and he said, “One less person.” Sorry. Tony said it. I, of course, would never say anything like that.)

At any rate, Joe is an Italian with connections. (No, no…not those connections.) He’s one of the best known and well-liked Christians in Christian broadcasting in general and in contemporary Christian music broadcasting in particular. He was the manager of a New York radio station—one of the first (maybe the first) contemporary Christian music stations in the country.

Joe doesn’t hustle, manipulate or push the way agents are supposed to. He just hangs out and good things happen. That’s because Jesus likes Joe a lot!

Jesus likes John Frost too. He is “the man” in contemporary Christian broadcasting and programs a number of highly rated stations throughout the country. Years ago, John worked for secular rock stations and became offended by some of the “stuff” that one will often hear on those stations. So he made a suggestion that they change formatting to be more “family friendly” and hit a goldmine of ratings and sales. He is now working the “other side of the aisle” with Christians who want to make a difference in this culture.

Joe, John and our staff spent much of the day together, figuring out how Key Life can come alongside and partner with contemporary stations with our message of radical freedom, infectious joy and surprising faithfulness. Some really good things came out of that meeting and I’ll be telling you about that in the not-too-distant future.

Joe and John are both guys who understand culture and how to communicate to it without using religious words people don’t understand. Their time with us was sort of a catalyst for some things I’ve been thinking of late about “them”—the culture, the world and the people who don’t “get” the Christian faith, don’t care about it or are angry because of it.

My friend, John Armstrong, says that in our efforts to reach out to them, we have made two mistakes. We have either accommodated our message and our mission so much that we offer only more of what they already have. Or, on the other hand, we spend our time “reserving barriers that are not essential to the gospel or for Christian community…we make our cultural expressions of Christianity the norm.” (You might want to check out John’s website: www.act3online.com.)

That means we either accommodate/acquiesce or we’re irrelevant.

I do both sometimes, so I’m not preaching here.

Right after our time with Joe and John, I got a letter from a financial supporter of Key Life. He had heard my interview with Paul Young who wrote The Shack. As you perhaps know, I believe that Young has enabled a whole lot of people to see God in a different and accurate way. Not only that, I know him to be the real deal. He believes every word of the Bible, is not a Universalist, and has touched a mother lode of pain in a whole lot of people.

This Key Life contributor was quite upset with my affirmation of Young. I had said on another nationally syndicated program where I was interviewed that I felt the harsh, over-the-top critics of The Shack had “their underwear on too tight.” I don’t know why that bothered him, but he said that he was no longer going to support Key Life and no longer wanted to be on the mailing list.

Given the bad economy and the way we are struggling, just like everyone else in ministry, I decided that I would find some bad things to say about Young or, at minimum, try to explain and defend my position.

(We know what I am…we’re just talking about price.)

That’s when Jesus messed up my plan. He does that a lot and, frankly, I don’t like it one bit.

Paul wrote the Corinthian church that what Christians have to offer is not “the wisdom of this age” but a “demonstration of the Spirit and of power” (1 Corinthians 2:4,6). Then he writes, “Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God” (vs. 12).

As you know, I’m not into rules, but I’ve decided to make four rules for myself. You might want to adopt these rules or write your own. These are necessary because I’ve decided that, no matter what I do, I’m probably going to offend somebody. So here are my rules:

Rule #1: Offend people…but offend them for the right reasons.

I’m probably the most opinionated friend you have. I have an opinion on everything from Obama (didn’t vote for him) to global warming (I’m cold) to Christian music (I like Bach). I know what I like, I know what I don’t like and, frankly, I’m right about almost all of my opinions. It’s hard to be right all the time and it’s, also, quite irritating to those of us who are right to have people who aren’t right contradict us.

But there is something harder than that. It is trying to discern what my opinion is and what is God’s opinion, what is true and what is surmise, what is important in terms of my Christian witness and what is not important. I’m still working on it but, at minimum, I’ve decided that Obama, global warming and Christian music aren’t hills I will fight and die on for Jesus.

Rule #2: Offend people…but make sure they understand why they are offended.

You’ve heard the statement that someone can tell people “to go to hell with such skill that they will look forward to the trip.” I can do that if I work at it and that’s scary.

I know you won’t believe it, but I really don’t like offending people. I have this desire to be liked, affirmed and admired. It’s hard to maintain that when one is talking about hell.

I still remember this. I allowed my late friend, Rusty Anderson, to attend Skeptics Forum—a ministry I did for a number of years in which, aside from myself, only unbelievers could attend—on the condition that he keep his mouth shut. I was being so very sensitive and kind, and Rusty did well keeping quiet…until that third meeting. He just couldn’t do it anymore. I still remember the sound of his hand hitting my desk and his words, “I’m tired of this nonsense. You guys are lost for eternity and are going to hell, and that bothers me. I’ve grown to sort of like you and I don’t want to go to heaven without you.”

I thought that the whole ministry had just come to an end. Just the opposite happened. That night several of the skeptics signed their names on the Lamb’s book of life.

Rule #3: Offend people…but make sure they “see” what offends them.

As much as I hate it, there is something about me that ticks people off. I’m not exactly sure what that is, but I’m working on finding out. I want to say to people (the way I did with what Tony Campolo said above), “Look, I didn’t say that. Jesus did. I don’t care so much what you think of me, but don’t let me get in the way of Jesus. He can be your best friend or your worst nightmare, but get beyond me and look at him. He’s worth more than a passing glance.”

Rule #4: Offend people…but make sure they understand that you’re offended too.

Given that I’m so opinionated, I have a tendency to pretend that I don’t struggle with the truth in general and uncomfortable truth in particular. It is here that I (and maybe you, too, sometimes) get into trouble. When we speak truth to power, to peons, kings or paupers, or to the famous or not-so-famous, there needs to be an addendum, to wit, “Don’t you hate it? Me too!”

We are not outsiders of the human race. We are needy almost all the time, afraid and still struggling with our own sin. People get offended when we act like their mother or, worse, like an expert who is trying to “fix” them. Maybe a bit more identification with the human race is in order.

Well, those are my rules. As I work to put something together that really speaks to them, I’m going to try and remember my rules. Who knows? I might offend less and bless more.

Now, go out and offend someone…but do it right. Okay?

If you clicked on it, do you know what happened?

No, no, no. We wouldn't do that!

If you clicked on that link, you ended up at the website of Campus Crusade for Christ with an opportunity to hear a plan of salvation.

I would have left it there, but Jesus made us take it down. I think he said something about the ends not justifying the means and that dishonesty-no matter the result-was not a good thing.

I've been thinking about the people who came to our website, saw the Playboy link and clicked on it. What a surprise! I wish I could have seen their faces.

Surprise!

It wasn't what they expected. Something else was going on…

Are you worried? I am.

Over the last few months on our talk show, we have interviewed a whole lot of people about the economy, the war, the environment, world poverty, politics, etc….and the general impression is that "we're all gonna die!"

It's bad and it's going to get a lot worse.

(I've been trying to book Joel Osteen or Robert Schuller but, as I understand it, they were tied up, putting the final touches on their bomb shelters and storing food for the coming world famine.)

There is a wonderful story in 2 Kings 6. The king of Syria was at war with Israel. Israel, though, had a powerful "secret weapon" in Elisha the prophet who kept warning Israel of the troop movements of Syria. The king of Syria was ticked and sent a large army to take out Elisha.

When Elisha's servant got up in the morning and went out, he saw the great Syrian army, panicked and then ran to Elisha, only to find Elisha calm, cool and collected. Elisha said to his servant that he should chill out because "those who are with us are more than those who are with them" (vs. 16).

The servant looked around. And it was only the two of them. It was then, I expect, the servant figured that he was following a crazy man.

Elisha prayed, "Lord, show him."

The text says: "So the Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw, and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha" (vs. 17).

If you're worried, there is plenty to worry you. You could lose your job, you could lose your house, you could become homeless, or you could get cancer from the carcinogens everywhere. The economy could tank. And if that doesn't happen, you could freeze to death from global freezing (Newsweek 1975), be cooked to death from global warming (Newsweek 2007) or starve to death from global famine (Newsweek 2006).

The "all news-all the time" news channels pound us 24/7 with "news alerts" that tell us to be afraid…be very afraid.

Well, I'm tired of it…and I'm not going to take it anymore.

I've asked God to remind me about the armies.

In order to see the armies, you have to know the Commander of the armies "for from him and through him and to him are all things" (Romans 11:36). That would be pretty scary except for the joyous words of John 1: "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth…from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace…" (vs. 14,16) and "to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God" (vs. 12-13).

During every election, someone says, "It's the economy, stupid!" I don't even remember who first said that…but they are quite wrong. It's not the economy, or the war, or terrorists, or the fearsome specter of death and destruction. It's about God, stupid! It really is. Behind the surreal news, the surmise of "experts" who don't know what they are talking about any more than we do, the silly atheists who say that we're on our own, and the shallowness of what everybody says is important…there is a Commander of the armies who rules, sustains and works all things according to his will.

If you forget about the Commander, it will drive you nuts.

But there's more than that. If you want to see the armies of God, you have to thank him for them. Paul said to the Ephesians-whose situation was seemingly even more perilous than ours-that they ought to continue with their lives, "singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ…" (Ephesians 5:19-20).

Giving thanks for everything? Does that mean…? Yeah, that!

One of the advantages of being an "old white guy" is that I've watched the false prophets screw it up so often and so badly that I don't listen to them much anymore. That doesn't mean I'm silly or unaware of what they are saying. I'm a news junkie and fascinated by the seriousness and gloom of the "we're all going to die" crowd. I've seen God's circuitous ways so often in bringing "dry bones" to life, in removing pompous and arrogant leaders and replacing them only to replace the replacements, and in glorifying himself in the timeline of history, that I've decided it is all above my pay level and "all things do work together" for those who are on the side of the Commander.

I've decided to thank him for the mess.

That, of course, doesn't mean I'm going to necessarily like the way God works it out for me personally, for the nation of which I'm a citizen, or for the world. I've often told him that, if I were him, I would do it differently. But he has the armies and I don't. He's my Father and the Commander. So, I've decided I'll just thank him for the mess and then take a nap.

But there is one other thing about "seeing the armies." You not only have to know the Commander and trust him in what he does, you've got to act on the reality of the truth that has been revealed.

In Matthew 8, Jesus gets together a bunch of ragged, sinful, needy and confused followers. (I always thought he could have done better in his choices…but then I remember that I'm one of his weird choices too.) One of his "choices" says that he will follow Jesus, but he needs to bury his father. It seems reasonable until one realizes that his father isn't dead yet…not even close. So his "excuse" was an option to run.

Then Jesus says something that will haunt you if you think about it much: "Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead" (vs. 22).

You can't let the dead bury the dead unless there's something better than the cemetery…

…and there is.

So I have this list where I ask myself what I would do, how I would act and what I would think if the Commander of the supernatural armies were my Father and if I trusted him to do it right. Then I act on the truth that I know.

I still get scared and listen to the wrong voices on occasion.I sometimes still hear the "harsh bark" of the con artists and become enamored by the bright wares of the trinket salesmen. I still, as it were, "click on the Playboy link." But in my finer moments, Jesus comes and prays for me.

He says to the Father: "Father, show him!"

That's when I see the armies.

He'll do that for you too.

Adding to her contribution to unity and bipartisanship at the Inauguration, she said, “It felt like a 10-pound anvil was lifted off my head!”

I’m going to restrain myself here from saying anything more about Pelosi’s comment because…well…uh…because some of you are Democrats, liberals and Communists. My restraint, I should point out—given my right-wing reactionary position—is an amazing demonstration of grace and discipline.

However, believe it or not, I agreed with her. When Bush left the White House, a “10-pound anvil” was lifted from my shoulders too. I just had a different reason.

I was relieved because now I don’t have to defend Bush anymore

(Just so you know, I believe Bush is a good man and a man of integrity and skill. His problem was that he didn’t know how to talk and should have taken one of my Communications courses. I don’t, of course, agree with all he did, but I am still alive…and there is something to be said for that.)

At any rate, I’m in a new position. I’m not on the inside, defending against the rocks thrown at the house. I’m on the outside, throwing the rocks. I like being on the outside with the rocks better, I think, than being on the inside with the wounds.

Now, hopefully, the rocks won’t be thrown very often. Frankly, I don’t want to, but I really do like our new president. Not only that, I’ve been praying for him each morning and will continue to do so as long as he is the president. And even more, I hope and pray for his success. We are all on the same boat and if it goes down, “they” aren't the only ones who will drown.

Being on the outside is, however, a relief. There’s no responsibility, no need to defend, no need to agree, and no need to be anything but a critic. It is far easier to be a critic than an apologist, an accuser than an accused, and a problem-definer than a problem-solver.

I was thinking about what I wrote above when it dawned on me (and it may have been the Holy Spirit…or maybe just indigestion) that Christians are always on the outside. We always have been “outsiders” and always will be, until Jesus comes back and cleans up the mess. It was only an illusion when we thought differently. We have never had much power or leverage and, when we did, we “paid too much for our whistle.”

The Bible says that we are “strangers and exiles on the earth” and here we “have no continuing city.” Further, Jesus said that the road of faith was a road that “few” would walk.

So, whatever our political convictions, if we walk with Jesus, we are always on the outside of the house looking in. That’s cool because there are other mansions and other elections, and ultimately the battle will be over and the “victory” will be won. He promised and you can hang your hat on that.

Meanwhile (and this would be good advice for Republicans too), we are here for them. We need to bring our witness to the table and do it in a way that the outside doesn’t look like another battlefield.

They will know that Republicans are Republicans when they see how much better (or worse) we would do it.

On the other hand, Jesus said that they will know we are Christians by our love.

It's grading papers.

Do you know what I'm doing right now?
Well, I'm writing to you, of course, but what I was doing before writing to you and what I'll do right after writing to you is…

…grading papers.

I remember once at Disney when I was with our grandchildren at one of those "character" lunches. Our daughter, our son-in-law and my wife deserted me and the granddaughters decided it was time to party. They had food fights, ran around the restaurant chasing after Mickey Mouse and ate cupcakes, getting icing on the walls, their clothes and me.

That was when the waitress came over to take our drink order. I ordered lemonade for the girls and an iced tea for me.

"Sir," the waitress said, smiling. "I don't want to be presumptuous, but are you sure you don't want something stronger? I think you could handle this better drunk."

That's how I feel about grading papers…and a variety of other things.

As you know, I don't drink "adult beverages," but that doesn't mean I don't see the attractiveness of "transcendence in a bottle." I might not be a better grandfather, a better preacher or a better professor…but then, I wouldn't care so much. And there is something to be said about not caring.

Do you know the story of the woman who complained about the anxiety of being a new mother and went to her physician for help? He prescribed some anti-anxiety pills and told her to take one every morning.

She decided that if one of the pills was good, two or three would be even better.

The next time she saw her doctor, he asked the woman how she was doing and how the new baby was.

She replied with a puzzled expression: "What baby?"

What student? What paper? What sermon? What book? What broadcast? What…

I know, I know. I shouldn't have written that, but even preachers sometimes fantasize about being out from under all the responsibility…and just running away with a bottle or a pill.

I've never run away from you.

I know, but you're God. You're different.

Why do you care? Why does any of this make a difference to you?

Because I'm weird?

No, because your caring and your loving is from me. That's why. And you can't get away from me because I cared about you and loved you before I taught you to care and love anybody else.

That's when I started thinking about the stack of papers on my desk that need grading.

I remembered Psalm 103: "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust" (vs. 11-14).

I also remembered Matthew's description of Jesus, quoting from Isaiah, as he wrote about us and about Jesus in Matthew 12:20: "…a bruised reed [that's us] he [that's Jesus] will not break, and a smoldering wick [us again] he [that's Jesus] will not quench…" Then Matthew illustrates Isaiah's prophecy throughout his biography giving examples (e.g. 9:36, 14:14, 15:32, 20:34) of Jesus being "moved with compassion" toward the weak, the needy and the sinful.

It really does put a different light on that stack of papers.

I know my students. They aren't just names…they are sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, and husbands and wives who are sometimes so needy even though that neediness isn't always reflected in the papers.

The students who wrote the stack of papers on my desk are afraid. They're afraid that they may not make it, that they will fail, that they've made a mistake in this God stuff and sometimes they even wonder if, when they get in the battle, they will be skilled enough to stand. They are afraid…really afraid.

Me too!

He knows our frame…He remembers…A bruised reed he will not break…A smoldering wick he will not quench…He was moved with compassion.

The students who wrote the stack of papers on my desk are not only afraid, they're guilty. Nothing will make you feel guiltier than to be a theological student or a preacher and have people think that you are good, pure and obedient when you know you're not. Those students are beginning to discover that their motives aren't altogether that pure and that their call is filled with ego, selfishness and sin.

Me too!

He knows our frame…He remembers…A bruised reed he will not break…A smoldering wick he will not quench…He was moved with compassion.

The students who wrote the stack of papers on my desk are not only afraid and guilty, they're just plain tired. The seminary where I teach is very rigorous academically. Frankly, I don't know how the students read all they are supposed to read and do all they are supposed to do. Often they neglect their own needs, staying up to the wee hours of the morning, skipping meals and working harder than they ought to work. Sometimes, they look so tired and so burned out.

Me too!

He knows our frame…He remembers…A bruised reed he will not break…A smoldering wick he will not quench…He was moved with compassion.

So, when I go back to those papers, I'm going to try and remember that the students who wrote them are afraid, guilty and tired. I'm going to remember that about me too. And I'm going to give to them what God has given to me…more compassion and gentleness than professors are usually thought to give.

And just so you know, I wasn't just talking about students, professors and grades here. Maybe you guessed that I was talking about you too. You're just as afraid, guilty and tired as we are.

What if God were different than what you've been told? What if God were kind, gentle and compassionate toward you? What if grace always ran downhill?

How different would your life be?

Enough.

I've got to get back to these papers, but do ask yourself how you would live if you knew that God cared more about you than he did about your grade?

He does, you know.

No, that isn’t a Christian cliché where Christians (it’s part of the liturgy) say they're “excited” about everything from a Christian concert to a funeral. I’m not excited because I’m a Christian.

Frankly, sometimes being a Christian isn’t exciting at all. It’s as dull as dust. If the level of my commitment were dependent on “excitement,” I would join some Wicca group. They don’t tithe, have very few rules and—I’m told—“do church” naked.

Sometimes truth isn’t exciting at all. It’s just…uh…well…true. I’m a Christian because it’s true. But that’s another subject.

I’m still excited about 2009.

You’re crazy! The economy is tanking, everybody is losing their jobs, the terrorists are growing bolder and the earth, as we know it, is going to be cooked (or frozen) to death (depending on which issue of Newsweek you’re reading). India and Pakistan both have nuclear weapons and really scary people have their fingers on the “hot buttons,” the Middle East could go up in flames tomorrow, radical Islam is talking about imposing Sharia law on Hollywood and Wall Street looks like Jericho after the trumpets.

We’re all going to die and you’re excited?

Yeah, I’m excited. Do you know why?

I’m excited because I’m a Republican and it’s now my turn to throw rocks.

I liked Bush okay…but I’m glad he’s going. Even when he was right (and he was a lot of the time), he sounded wrong. I wish he could have taken one of my communication courses or, at least, stuck to what his speech writers wrote. I’m glad that Democrats have a “filibuster proof” congress and that Al Gore is going to finally get his friends to vote on Kyoto. I’m pleased that power now resides on the other side because…

…now I get to play “gotcha!”

I’m tired of our family values guys getting caught, as it were, with their pants down; our small government advocates voting for draconian laws that would make Genghis Khan blush; and our “protect the sanctity of marriage” guys getting divorces or making passes in men’s rooms.

And, frankly, I’m tired of trying to defend them.

It’s already started.

Al Franken??? What were the folks in Minnesota smoking?

And I’ve decided that I really like Governor Blagojevich. He’s a crook, but he’s fun.

Even as I write this, Roland Burris, the governor’s appointment to the Senate, is showing up in Washington, claiming his seat, while Harry Reid stands at the door, looking for all the world like George Wallace standing at the schoolhouse door. You have no idea how much I love watching a white liberal prevent an African American from being seated in a “white only” club.

And not only that, the Democratic leadership says they won’t allow Burris to take his seat in the Senate until Illinois Secretary of State, Jesse White, signs off on it…and good old Jesse says he “doesn't want the ball.”

Is that great or what?

When MoveOn goes after their guy because he isn’t as wacko as they are and Nancy Pelosi is ticked with President-elect Obama’s appointment of Leon Panetta as CIA director because she wasn’t consulted, this old cynical conservative wants to jump up and sing the Hallelujah Chorus. And what’s with the Panetta appointment? Isn’t that sort of like asking a student nurse to do brain surgery?

And it’s just starting!

And they say there’s no God!

Yes, I’m exited about 2009!

Okay, okay. I repent.

I was kidding…sort of.

Actually, I’m growing to like our new president. I’m praying for him and our flawed leaders (aren’t we all flawed?) that God would guide and bless them. After all, as Lincoln said to his critics: “When someone is crossing Niagara Falls on a tightrope pushing a wheelbarrow with everything he owns in it, don’t throw rocks at him until he gets to the other side.”

It's as close as I'm ever going to get to being a pastor of a mega-church.

I've always asked God to make me the pastor of a mega-church and told him, if he really loved me, he would. Or, at any rate, that was my prayer until I started visiting Perimeter.

They have more staff people than I ever had as church members where I served as pastor and I've come to realize that God's decision to never make me the pastor of a mega-church was because he likes me. Frankly, if he had answered my prayer, I wouldn't have known what to do. It is far better to make a fool of oneself with a small group of people who love you, forgive you and make excuses for you than it is to do it in front of that many people.

Besides, I would be sort of like my German shepherd who chased motorcycles. It was fun for him to chase them, but he wouldn't know what to do if he ever caught one. German shepherds look silly trying to ride motorcycles.

But I digress.

Generally, when I'm at Perimeter, I preach on Saturday night and then twice on Sunday morning. Randy said I wouldn't have to go to meetings and didn't have to be nice to anybody. All I had to do was get on an airplane, fly to Atlanta, preach and, when finished, get on an airplane and come home.

I know, I know. It's hard work, but somebody has to do it.

The last weekend I was at Perimeter, some of the folks there asked that I spend some time with them at a meeting of one of their ministries called "Celebrate Recovery." Frankly, that isn't what I wanted to do, but Cathy (my assistant and events person at Key Life) insisted that I do it. "Trust me on this," she said. "These are your kind of people."

So, while there were heel marks from the church to the home where the meeting took place, I went. And God (because he really does like me) gave me one of the best evenings I've had in a very long time.

I thought I was supposed to speak for a while and answer questions. It turned out to be a meeting with no other purpose except to pray for me and to thank me for being faithful to the message of God's grace, mercy and love. Not only that, they gave me a gift certificate for ice cream. (I would have preferred pipe tobacco, but they decided not to encourage my sin/addiction.)

There were 30 or 40 people there…all "in recovery" from some bad stuff. They are leaders of Christian 12-step program groups and all of them have been there, done that and have the bloodied T-shirt.

You would have loved these people. Do you know why?

It wasn't because they were so "religious" or "spiritual"…it was because they weren't religious and spiritual, and knew it. Not only that. They admit it; support, love and encourage one another; and are so authentic and real that they would blow you away.

They opened the meeting by going around the room with each person introducing him or herself the way they do in A.A. For instance, a man would say, "Hi, my name is Jim and I'm addicted to drugs. While I still struggle with recovery, I've found love and freedom in being a follower of Jesus Christ." And then the whole group would say in unison, "Hi Jim."

It went on and on with every addiction and painful, sinful behavior you can imagine…each person saying the same thing, "Hi, I'm _____ and I'm…an adult child of an alcoholic, a drunk, addicted to sex, addicted to pornography, addicted to prescription pain pills, addicted to anger, abused by my father and addicted to approval, co-dependent, addicted to…

It went on and on and on. After each introduction, the person was greeted by name and sometimes applause.

I may have told you and, if you don't know it, you haven't been listening. I'm probably the most cynical friend you have. It is impossible to shock or surprise me. When you're as old as I am and have been around as long as I have, you get so you don't expect too much from others or from yourself. You live with the principle that when a dog plays checkers, one doesn't criticize the dog's game…one is just pleased and surprised that the dog is playing at all. And when you've seen as much as I have, you've learned that the "victorious Christian life" is really just keeping your nose above water and the goal isn't winning the world to Christ, but simply not losing too many.

Because God likes me and because he knows how discouraged I get about myself, about others and about the church, he regularly allows me to see the "real deal." If I didn't see the real deal sometimes-in others and even sometimes in myself-I would throw in the towel (if I knew where to throw it) and become a turnip farmer.

So I was mightily blessed and decided to bless you by telling you about what happened.

And I have a modest proposal.

At least once a month, all our churches should have a Sunday morning worship service for S.A.-Sinners Anonymous-where everybody who comes to the service is required to introduce himself or herself, and name his or her sin, dark secret, addiction, fear or doubt. Then, after each introduction, the rest of the congregation would be required to say "hi" and to applaud and shout in unison: "God loves you anyway!"

And there's more. As we went through the introductions, the pastor would be required to go first, followed by the staff, the elders, the deacons and then the ministry leaders and Bible teachers.

Steve, are you crazy?

Yeah, crazy like a fox.

You think it would destroy the church. You think you simply couldn't do it because of the horrible embarrassment, so much so that you could never show your face in church again. You think the cause of Christ would be irreparably damaged and that the Kingdom of God would come crashing down.

None of it.

Do you know what would happen? There would be revival in America! That's what would happen.There would be another Great Awakening that would make the one of 18th century look like a small Bible study group. We would start getting better, becoming more obedient and far more loving toward one another and the world than we have been.

You see, it's a lot easier to serve Christ without a mask. You're far freer, you laugh and sing more, and you get to dance without caring what people think about how well you dance.

Well, what do you think about my proposal????

Is that cool or what?

You first!

Me?

Are you crazy? Do I have "S.T.U.P.I.D." written across my forehead?

I need this job.

Aisles and aisles of booths of bric-a-brac and books…It was overwhelming.

Frankly, I planned to write you a kind of funny/critical post about trinket salesmen and Christian hustlers. I wanted to tell you about the convention a number of years ago that introduced "God's Airline." (They had the shell of an airplane on the floor of the exhibit hall and promised to play only Christian music and serve only apple juice on their flights.) And then, another year, a cowboy came riding in on a horse to promote a book on cowboys or something.

This year, there was a man dressed up as Jesus-sandals and all-walking around on the convention floor and giving out pamphlets (WWJD…What would Jesus Distribute? Sorry…Just a joke!).

A friend of mine ran into him and said, "Hey, I read your book!"

"Did you like it?" Jesus asked.

"Some of it, but if you ever need a good editor, I'm your man."

There were new Bible translations (I guess the previous three million translations missed something), a bunch of new books on marriage (I guess the three billion previous books on marriage missed something) and a book on humility written by a guy who was giving out foot washing towels with his name and the title of his book on them.

I could hardly wait to write this post. It was going to be really funny and caustic and, believe me, there was plenty of material at the convention.

That's when Jesus messed up everything.

And how did you get the material?

I was there and saw it myself. That's how!

And what were you doing there?

Well…uh… I have this new book and the publisher wanted me to do interviews and sign books.

And what is your book about?

Actually, it isn't a new book. It's the new edition of an old book with great new stories and a study guide. Is that cool, or what?

That wasn't the question. What is it about?

It's about prayer. Okay?

All the previous millions of books on prayer missed something?

Well, no, not exactly. But they wouldn't say it the way I said it and, besides, the publisher thought it was worth doing.

In other words, you're sitting in front of the computer getting ready to write caustic remarks making fun of people at a convention hustling product.

Yes.

And you were at the same convention hustling product?

I didn't think about it that way. It is a bit hypocritical, isn't it?

So you're going to miss one of the funniest posts ever written about "wild and crazy" Christians at a convention hustling product.You would have loved it!

But don't blame me. It's Jesus' fault.

Paul wrote, "Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things" (Romans 2:1).

Ouch!

So I repent.

Have you seen the bumper sticker that reads: "I like Jesus. It's his followers that drive me nuts"? I'm going to get one of them (I probably could have purchased one at the convention) and create another one to go right under that one. It would read: "And I'm one of them. Sorry."

Do you know the reason our witness doesn't have any power? It's because we forget that the witness isn't about us, our purity, our wisdom or our insights. The truth is that, if it is, we're in serious trouble.

I have a friend (you would know his name…he's a famous Bible teacher) who was introduced at a Bible convention this way:

You're very fortunate to be here. I've been asked to give an introduction and the man I'm introducing to you has spoken to audiences the world over. His message has changed millions of lives and his presence has brought peace, repentance and love to very difficult situations throughout the church. He is profound, wise and compassionate, touching people everywhere with his message.

And here is _______________ to tell you about him.

And so I started this post one way and it ended up being something else altogether.

Did you hear about the arrogant young preacher who went into the pulpit quite sure that his sermon would be published in the "Great Sermons of Christendom." It ended up being one of the worst sermons anybody in the congregation had ever heard.

As the young man came down from the pulpit, there were tears of shame in his eyes and a dear saintly lady said to him, not unkindly, "Son, if you had entered the pulpit the way you left it, you would have left it the way you entered it."

Am I going to the convention again next year? Are you crazy?

Of course, I am!

But, next year, I'll laugh at us and not at them. We really are a funny bunch…

…and Jesus is quite fond of us.

You too!

(You can hear the interviews here and here.)

Keller writes: "Whether you consider yourself a believer or a skeptic, I invite you to seek the same kind of honesty and to grow in an understanding of the nature of your own doubts. The result will exceed anything you can imagine."

He then proceeds to present a vibrant, thoughtful and clear presentation of orthodox Biblical Christianity, giving real answers to real questions.

In the introduction to the Emergent book, the authors write:

"If you listen to U2, Moby, and Johnny Cash's Hurt (sometimes in church), use sermon illustrations from The Sopranos, drink lattes in the afternoon and Guinness in the evenings, and always use a Mac;…if your idea of quintessential Christian discipleship is Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, or Desmond Tutu; if you don't like George W. Bush or institutions or big business or capitalism or Left Behind Christianity;…if you love the Bible as a beautiful, inspiring collection of works that lead us into the mystery of God but is not inerrant; if you search for truth but aren't sure it can be found; if you've ever been to a church with prayer labyrinths, candles, Play-Doh, chalk-drawings, couches, or beanbags (your youth group doesn't count); if you loathe words like linear, propositional, rational, machine, and hierarchy and use words like ancient-future, jazz, mosaic, matrix, missional, vintage, and dance;…then you might be an emergent Christian."

Then after that rather funny introduction, DeYoung and Kluck spend a lot of time on the eternal truths of the Christian faith and why they can't be compromised.

Both of those books have served to remind me of something important…something one tends to forget if you're as religious as I am, debate as many people as I do, answer as many questions as I do and deal with as much criticism as I do.

What's that?

Truth. That's what.

I've often asked Christians how their lives would be different if they woke up tomorrow morning and found out that all they believed about God, the Bible and their faith was not true. People look at me as if I've lost my mind.

But it's a good question.

I, of course, would be out of a job if I told people what I had discovered.

But maybe I would just keep quiet. Who would know? I could pretend that it was still true, still pray the public prayers and preach the sermons. I could maintain Key Life and write these posts. I could still teach at the seminary if I didn't tell the students about my discovery. I could still go to church and support what's happening at the church. As long as I was really careful, I could keep on writing religious books and doing religious broadcasts.

If I found out that none of this was true, I could still fake it until I died. Then it wouldn't matter.

But, frankly, why would I?

C.S. Lewis, in referring to Freud's spurious comment that we made up God because we needed a father figure, said that Freud's assertion was crazy. Freud said a lot of crazy things, but that one topped the list.

Freud reminds me of the character in the movie Network played by Peter Finch who went crazy on national television. They planned to fire him, but the ratings went through the roof, so they kept him on. Everybody suspected that Freud was crazy too; but, since a lot of people listened to him, they decided to let him keep talking.

But I digress.

Lewis said if he was going to make up a God, that God would be a whole lot different than the one of the Bible. He would be nicer, more accommodating and a whole lot less scary.

So, if I found out that my Christian faith wasn't true, I wouldn't try to fake it. That would make me crazier than Freud. After all, I would have a whole lot more time to do what I wanted and to pursue my own interests. Things like forgiveness, meaning, thankfulness, values and eternal life would be irrelevant, and I would spend very little time dealing with irrelevant things.

Camus (the French existentialist and atheist) said that the only question with which a thinking person should deal in a meaningless world is suicide. I'm "tired of living and afraid of dying," so my suicide would be slower and more fun than the kind Camus favored. Maybe I would develop a taste for booze. If I discovered that the things I've always believed weren't true, "transcendence in a bottle" would be far more attractive to me than it is now. Without God, I could handle life a lot better drunk.

But I have a problem. It's true.

This post isn't a defense of the verities of the Christian faith. You can do your own homework. Or, if you prefer, trust me because I have so often wished that the Christian faith wasn't true and so often tried to make it "not" true. I've read all the books you don't have time to read, checked all the alternatives, and spent my life going down the dead end roads of unbelief.

Sometimes I still look for an "out"; but, every time I look for one, I'm "whacked upside the head" with truth. Truth is…well…uh…true. You can't change it, get rid of it, ignore it or pretend it's not true. It just is…and once you see it, you're stuck.

I'm stuck.

But that sounds so negative.

One of the most interesting interviews we've done was with A. J. Jacobs. He wrote a book, The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible.

Jacobs is Jewish and a "respectful unbeliever" (his words) who did his best to be "religious" for a year and to do it in the deepest and most profound way. Because he is Jewish, for the most part (in addition to some Rabbis, with advice from Protestant ministers and Roman Catholic priests), he tried to live as an orthodox Jew.

During the interview, it became quite apparent that Jacobs deeply loves his family. When he talked about his children, he talked about how they were such a gift to him and how much he wanted them to grow up to be "good" adults.

I asked him in the interview about his family. "When you look at your children and you are overwhelmed with gratefulness for them, who do you thank?"

There was a long silence and he said, "Steve, I've thought about that a lot. And, while I'm still not a believer, I've found myself offering prayers of thanksgiving even if it doesn't make sense."

Talk about a disconnect!

Who are you going to thank?

Who is going to forgive you?

Who is going to love you?

Who is going to give you a reason to live?

Who is going to meet you when it's your time to die?

This morning, as I write this, I've been overwhelmed with the absolute truth of the Christian faith. I've remembered that my faith isn't surmise, wishful thinking or a subject for debate. It's just true!

When I've prayed, he has come…

I'm here. You're forgiven, loved and called, and that's a forever kind of thing.

He told me to remind you to rest in it and rejoice because of it!

I've been remembering.

I got an email from Wanda Lu Paxton who lives in Brevard, North Carolina, and works at WSQL, a radio station there. She said she was putting together a brief history of that station which had previously been WPNF ("Wonderful Pisgah National Forest"). In 2007, the station was bought by a number of local business folks, renamed WSQL and moved to downtown Brevard on Main Street.

At any rate, she had been doing some checking and found out that I had written about having worked at WPNF years ago and wondered if I could tell her something of my experience with the station.

Let me share with you some of what I wrote to Wanda:

I was a student at Brevard College in those days and worked for a laundry collecting shirts from students for 25 cents a shirt. I got three cents a shirt. (I didn't have the money for college and was saving every penny to pay tuition and expenses.) I figured that there had to be something better and easier, and which paid more than the laundry. A friend said, "Steve, you have a good voice. Why don't you go down to the radio station and see if they will hire you?"

So I just "showed" in the lobby of WPNF and asked for a job. They heard my voice and hired me on the spot. That was in 1958 and I worked at the station through that year and into the summer of 1960.

The folks at the station were extremely patient and kind to the "kid" who didn't know what he was doing and made enough mistakes to get him fired at any other station.

It was a good time for me and the last time that radio was that much fun and that laidback. Every evening we had a program called, "Music for the Dinner Hour." I would put an album on and, as it was playing, turn up the speakers and go out on the front porch of the station and smoke my pipe. When I would hear the clicking of the first side of the album running out, I would go back into the control room, give a station break, turn the album over for the second side, and go back to the front porch and look at the mountains.

In those days, there was (and I suspect there still is) a wonderful sense of community of which WPNF was a part. Once I was out for a few days with a cold or flu and received a pile of get well cards from people all over the community.

I will always be grateful for those days at WPNF and the people there who put up with some very bad and unprofessional "stuff" from me until they got me trained. Even today I'm grateful for them because they were people who "took a chance" on a young college student who didn't know what he was doing. They gave me the training that enabled me to pay for my undergraduate degree, to support my growing family and, later, when I was working for commercial radio in Boston, to pay for my education at Boston University School of Theology.

Today, much of my life centers around radio and sometimes I think of those kind people. I don't remember their names; but, when I think of them, I "rise up and call them blessed."

Sorry. Probably more information than you needed…but you know about old guys.

But there is a point. Our memories contain the "smell of Jesus."

C.S. Lewis said that before he knew God, he "experienced" God. He said that he would be working and would sense someone watching. He would turn around and no one would be there. He said, "To say that I was searching for God was like saying that a mouse was searching for a cat."

You'll remember in John 8 when Jesus was criticized by the religious folks who brought up the name of Abraham, He said something that was astonishing…and still is.

He said, "Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am" (verse 58).

When Jesus said that, he was saying a couple of things (maybe more) of great importance. First, he was using a form of God's name and applying it to himself. Second, he was talking about the timelessness of his presence in places where one doesn't expect him.

I don't remember the names of the people at that radio station, but they gave me a gift that has been a part of my life ever sense. I don't even know if they were Christians or not…but they were working for Jesus on behalf of one of Jesus' followers-me.

When Helen Keller was told about Jesus, she said that she knew him, but she didn't know his name. I knew him too. I just didn't know his name.

As I was writing this, my poet friend in Dallas, Bruce Fogerty (the "Birdbath Poet"), sent me a great poem. That was a "God thing" too.

Grace Masquerading

The darkest hour of some lives
Often yield the big surprise-
Grace masquerading once again
Who would have thunk it; Oh my friend!

For grace attends life's costume balls:
In prison cells and funeral halls!
Unfriendly courts and ugly falls!
Hospital rooms and midnight calls!

Grace masquerading once again;
Who would have thunk it; Oh my friend!

Eternal epilogue will bring
Perspective to all happenings,
Both the good, and seemingly bad
For those who call the Father-

Dad…

So, I've been remembering this morning and, in the remembering, I'm thankful to God for the story he has written (and is still writing) in my life. I've thought about teachers, mentors, friends and even critics. I've thought about those who loved me when I didn't deserve it. I've even remembered the times when I thought I was going to die from the pain. I've gone back and looked at a pile of memories and I'm so thankful for God's kindness and presence in all of it…

…even before I knew his name.

Why not take some time to think about your story too?

Think about the people who affected your life. Remember the events that were such a wonderful delight and even the ones that caused great pain. Remember those people who have come in and out of the story that God wrote for you. Remember the sound of your children laughing, the loss of those you loved, the people along the way who were unexpectedly kind and those who gave you guidance when you needed it. Think of those who helped you and those who hurt you (helping when they didn't even know it). Think of those (you may not even remember their names) God used to write the story of his grace in your life.

It's the smell of Jesus in the memories.

Jesus says, "I was there."

He asked me to remind you.

That's me, by the way.

You too. I'm just honest about it.

At any rate, I was reading Jesus' parable of the sower in Matthew 13. You will remember that Jesus talks about a sower who goes and sows his seeds. Some seeds fell along the path and birds snatched them up; some fell on rocky ground and didn't grow much before they died; and others fell among thorns and the thorns killed them. But some of the seeds fell on good soil and produced a good harvest.

After Jesus told that parable, the disciples said to him, "Huh?"

So Jesus had a family time and explained the parable to his disciples. He said that the seeds represented the word of the kingdom and how various people who hear it receive that word.

I've taught that parable a thousand times. Whenever I've taught it, I've focused on the seeds.

I repent.

That parable is as much about the sower (that would be you and me) as it is about the seeds (that would be the word in them). In fact, it might be far more about the sower than the seeds.

I believe that Jesus looked at the disciples and realized they were a motley crew of the unqualified. He was going to ask them to do things that were not only impossible…but way above their pay level.

Peter, for instance, had a far higher view of his ability than the facts warranted. You'll remember he told Jesus that the other disciples would run when the going got rough, but then he said, "I'll be here." There was Thomas who had to get the details right before he believed. Don't forget about Nathanael ("in whom there was no deceit") who had no armor and would be devastated by his failure. And consider James and John ("Sons of Thunder"), sort of the Hell's Angels of the disciples, who would try and force success and then be really shocked and dangerous when their message was rejected. Andrew was a kind of "people person," working on networks (he was the one who introduced Peter to Jesus when Philip introduced Andrew to Jesus). He would be the one who would care deeply about what people thought.

So Jesus looked at them and said, "Let me tell you a story." He told them about an unsuccessful sower. As I count the seeds in the parable, only 25% of the seeds grew to harvest and the rest died.

You've probably heard me say that if you get 51% in a fallen world, you should file it under success. Let me tell you something else. If you're a farmer and you get only 25%, you probably should give up farming.

Now let me tell you what I learned when I started thinking about the sower.

First, I learned that if you can't deal with failure, don't play the game.

I'm reminded of the priest who, when he began his ministry at 20, prayed, "O Lord, grant that I may win the world to Christ." When he was 40, he prayed, "O Lord, grant that I may win my city to Christ." When he was 50, he prayed, "O Lord, grant that I may win my church to Christ."

When he was 60, he prayed, "Lord, don't let me lose too many!"

I tell my students that if they have biographies of "famous Christians" in their libraries and those books don't tell about the failure and the sin, they should burn the biographies. The ones that don't tell you the truth about the humanness of being human will make you go into vinyl repair.

I also learned from the parable of the sower that I don't own the farm or the seeds. I'm just a "hired hand."

Have you ever seen the picturesque stone walls in New England? The stones came from the fields that can't be farmed without first putting the stones somewhere else. So they made those stone walls.

When the New Yorker drove by a New England farmer digging up stones from his field, he stopped his car and said, "Mister, that's a hard job."

"Yeah, it is," the farmer replied, stopping and wiping his sweating brow, "but it isn't as bad as it seems. I don't own this farm."

Sometimes I get anxious about my family, my church, Key Life and other places where God has asked me to serve. Then I realize that I don't own anything.

"How much did he leave?" a visitor asked a friend at the funeral home.

"Everything!" the friend replied.

I also learned that what God does, he does quite well and what he doesn't do, doesn't matter.

I said that the farmer in the parable was a failure at farming. That isn't entirely true. Jesus said, "Other seeds fell on good soil and produced grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty" (Matthew 13:8).

Years ago, I was the opening speaker for a large missions convention for high school students. Maybe I didn't make a fool of myself, but I could see it from where I was. I remember walking backstage after I spoke and moving as fast as I could to the cab that would take me back to the airport.

For years, every time I thought about that sermon, I blushed.

A couple of years ago, a young man came up to me after I spoke at an engagement and said, "You don't know me, but I was at a youth missions conference where you spoke. That was years ago."

I thought, Lord, don't do this to me. I'm a sensitive person and, if you really loved me, you wouldn't do this.

"Just thought you would like to know," the young man said, "I became a Christian that day as a result of what you said and am now serving as a pastor."

Is God great or what?

Oh, and I learned one other thing from the parable of the sower. I learned that one should never define oneself by the seeds, the soil or the harvest. If you define yourself that way, sometimes you'll feel that you're "pond scum" and at other times you'll think they ought to expand the Trinity to make room for you.

Both are inappropriate for a Christian.

The only appropriate way for a believer to define himself or herself is by the One who loved us enough to make us acceptable and to give us the seeds to sow. Wherever you are, just throw the seeds God gave you. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to do that and you don't have to be trained at a leadership seminar. All you have to do is to take the seeds God gives and, wherever you are, throw them on the soil.

And don't keep digging them up to see if they're growing. That's not your concern.

He asked me to remind you.

What do you do when your pastor says really stupid things?

It’s not that I have to apologize for my pastor. I’m thankful that I don’t; but, frankly, I suspect that a lot of friends have had to apologize for me.

If you ever visit the Key Life building, you should note a cartoon that hangs on the wall in the lobby. It’s a picture of a pastor standing in front of a shocked congregation…their eyes wide, their hair standing on end and incredulity all over their faces.

The caption reads, “Now Steve didn’t really mean what you thought he meant.”

When Obama vigorously disavows the comments of his pastor, I think of the “eat the frog syndrome.” That’s when someone seems sane, balanced and rational, and just when you are about to join the club…a frog hops across the floor and the formerly sane, balanced and rational man or woman picks it up and eats it.

Rev. Wright ate a big, juicy frog and Obama has to explain it.

Obama said that his pastor told him about Jesus and taught him about his obligation to love others, to care for the sick, to feed the hungry and to help the poor. I’m sure that all of Rev. Wright’s sermons weren’t as divisive, hate-filled and wrong-headed as the ones we’ve seen and heard in the media. I know that black anger isn’t totally without reason and that preachers get caught up in the excitement of the moment and…well…uh…say stuff that might cause them to wince when they have an attack of sanity.

Okay. But there’s still the frog.

As you know, I wasn’t going to vote for Obama anyway, so I don’t have a horse in this race. But I do like Obama and wish him well in trying to explain the unexplainable and defend the indefensible. That’s a hard place to be…especially with a beloved friend or pastor.

And then, I do feel constrained to say something about Rev. Wright. If I knew Rev. Wright, I would say this to him and not about him:

I know, I know. I’m a preacher and have said some really stupid things in my day and probably will again. But good heavens, man! What were you thinking? Are you out of your mind? You’re a pastor and you’re supposed to help this love thing along…not bury it in a pile of hateful manure.

I know about justified anger and I think I somewhat understand the black/white thing…but you’re about Jesus. Okay? He did the cross in the face of this stuff. You made an obscene gesture.

I’m not your mother. But if I were you, I’d repent.

If you don’t repent, Jesus will still love you.

I’ll try too.

But a bunch of Democrats and Republicans might not.

Wait!

That’s a lie!

It’s generally said by people who either 1) don’t have political opinions or convictions, 2) don’t want to offend and/or 3) suffer from the malady of perfectionism. I’m opinionated, offensive and, given my proclivity to screw things up, it would be insane for me to be a perfectionist.

So, I’m going to vote Republican. Okay? I’m going to pull the lever for McCain. I may have to hold my nose, ask God’s forgiveness and let the Devil take the hindmost, but that’s what I’m going to do.

When I go down the issue list, I find more about John McCain with which I agree than disagree and I can’t even say that about my mother. So, he gets my vote.

But let me tell you who I would like to vote for.

I would like to vote for Barack Obama. Frankly, I like him a lot better than I like John McCain. I like the way he talks…and, even better, I like the way he talks about God. I find his call for us to “come together” quite appealing because I’m tired of the hatred and demonizing. Not only that, I think it would be wonderful to have an African American in the White House and, to boot, a person who can talk.

(I think that George Bush has been a great president and that history will render that judgment on his presidency. But he can’t talk. Drives me nuts. I just wish he could take one of my communication classes. But I digress.)

One of the women on The View said that Obama reminded her of a boy one dates and, the next morning, wonders why she took her clothes off. That’s rather crass and I, of course, wouldn’t say anything like that. But the point is well taken.

There are a bunch of people I would enjoy (if I drank beer) having a beer with, but I wouldn’t want to be President of the United States. There is a long list of people I genuinely like, but it would be insane to let them even near the “hot button” on an atomic bomb. There is a great difference between having a commanding presence and being commander-in-chief of the most powerful military in the world.

But with all of that being said, I like the man. I’m glad I do, because he may be the next president and it helps to like the person, if you’re a Republican as I am, who screws everything up. It’s kind of like your favorite uncle…the crazy one.

You know something? If you’re a Democrat and a Republican is elected president, you’ll probably survive and the nation will too. And if Obama is elected, I’ll survive and the nation will too. Do you know why? Because the ability of the head of state to change the state of the world is vastly overstated.

Ask Woodrow Wilson.

When Hillary Clinton was in Detroit, she said that she was glad to be there because she had been born there.

One of her supporters said, “Yeah, and Obama was born in a stable.”

No, he wasn’t…and that’s a good thing to remember. As I understand it, there is a limit of only one Messiah per universe. We already have ours. He’s the King that nobody elected and nobody will depose.

As I understand it, he’s still in charge of this mess.

When I think of that, I feel better about both Obama and McCain.