Every Monday

AuthorHouse

Contents

Dedication..........................................vAcknowledgements....................................viiForeword............................................ixConfessions of a Fleeing Leader.....................1Dancing Grapes......................................5The Juggling Act....................................9Ground Zero.........................................13Vignettes...........................................17Hiding Places.......................................21Bad Spellers ... Untie!.............................25These Days..........................................29The Hunkie Cooper Principle.........................33Somewhat Lost.......................................37Are We There Yet?...................................41Play It Again, Sam..................................45Glory Days..........................................49Serving in the Shadows..............................53Things to Keep......................................57Outside the Lines...................................61Dancing with Danger.................................65Do You Get It?......................................69Beyond Charming.....................................75A Forgotten Priority................................79Rough Times.........................................83Kindergarten Leadership.............................87Honk If You Love Jesus..............................91Gullible Travels....................................95A Mother's Ears.....................................99Resurrection People.................................103What Works?.........................................107Falling Stars.......................................111Fast Food for Thought...............................115The Wonderful Church................................119Mystified...........................................123Pennsylvania Driving................................127The Worship Ordeal..................................131Random Musing.......................................135Appreciation........................................139Lookin' Good!.......................................143Things to Remember..................................147Vision Revisited....................................151Playing the Percentages.............................155Where the Water Flows...............................159

Chapter One

I ran away from God for a long, long time. Frankly, I was pretty good at it. Oh, I knew about God. My grandmother took me to church. I attended MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship). I participated in Vacation Bible School. I even had my fair share of warm fuzzy God-feelings at Epworth Forest Church Camp, but I managed to keep God's call at a safe distance.

With minor wear and tear on my small-town psyche, I survived being a chubby little kid. My parents were good people. They both worked outside the home yet managed to provide most everything that an only child could want. My grandmother, who lived with us, died when I was twelve. Henry, my dog and constant companion, was "put to sleep" the day before I left for college. Nevertheless, for the most part, I did okay.

Along the path of boyhood, I learned to love sports and even won my fair share of awards. I discovered girls at an early age and engineered a healthy dating plan. I even owned a couple of cars, including a 1957 Studebaker station wagon that the gang (a good term in those days) nicknamed The Blue Eagle.

Manchester College brought studies, a few more dates (the best ones were with Victoria Jean Sayers), and more sports. I had it-my life-all planned out. I was destined to be a great college football coach except for one thing; in the last semester of my senior year of college, I discovered that I hated teaching! Here is the sequence that followed: Considerable oops! Plan change. Life shift. Vocational nomadic phase. Eventual segue into business.

Business life was favorable for a season. I married Victoria and we had our first three little girls. We owned a charming house on a full acre of land in a nice suburb of Columbus, Ohio. A small creek meandered through the back of the property. Every now and then I would go to that creek, listen to the water trickle over the rocks, think about life, and wonder about God. Our family even joined a local United Methodist church just down the road. Life was good. Well, almost.

I could easily ramble on about this personal life stuff. But my point is this: I persisted in running away from God and his call on my life-his call to make me his own. When I finally stopped running and succumbed to Christ's tolerant beckoning, he filled an enormously empty chasm in the core of my soul. Yet somehow, I knew there was more. Jesus was calling me to do something more than just believe in him. He was calling me to more than an intellectual grasp of the facts about his existence; it was something more than an emotional assent to lofty feelings about God. He was calling me to know him, love him, commit to him, and ultimately serve him.

I was scared to death! I was fairly certain that Jesus had simply confused me with some other much more talented person who just happened to have the same name! Obviously, this was a simple mistake in ministerial and leadership identity.

After many clarifying moments alone with the Lord, I told him that I would do whatever he wanted me to do and go wherever he wanted me to go, just as long as he didn't put me in a church! After all, I didn't like to get up in front of people. I wasn't a good reader, especially in public (a fear from childhood); and I didn't know how to act like a pastor. While I was pretty certain that God knew most of this stuff, I needed to be sure. So, I told him.

One long and sleepless night, I tossed and turned and finally blurted out, "Okay! Okay, Lord. I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll go wherever you want me to go ... (long pause) even a church." Immediately, I sensed a gigantic crane hover over me, lower a winch, and hoist an incredible invisible weight off my chest. At that moment, an unforgettable quiet came to rest right where the unbearable weight had lodged. This quiet filled me with immeasurable peace, and nothing has ever been the same.

So, what about you? Have you ever tried to run from God? Any fleeing church leaders among you? Any reluctant prophets? Stammering preachers? Hesitant deacons? If so, it's okay. Because here is the important thing: when you allow your story to meet God's story, there is always a better story to tell.

The Leader's Prayer:

Pursuing God ... you are faster than my flight. You are stronger than my fear. Your sweet persistent hunt for my life leaves me in awe. Thank you for seeing gifts within me when I could not see them in myself. By your enduring grace show me how to keep investing these gifts in your Kingdom's work. In the name of the One who sees very unique traits in very common places ... Amen.

Chapter Two

At one of our regional church conferences, the judicatory leadership chose a theme from John 15. In this chapter Jesus told an amazing story by painting word images to describe the landscape and operation of a vineyard. His intention was to explore the model of a true believer's life and his relationship to the divine.

Jesus unashamedly broadcast the nature and identity of the vine, the branches, the labor, the process, the life-flow, the necessary connectedness, the desired growth, and the sweet sweet fruit of a life directly connected to him! The bottom line of the story ... the bottom line of the vineyard ... the bottom line of the process ... and the bottom line of the labor is this: there is a divine plan for all ages. Every true believer and disciple of Jesus Christ is to "abide" in him, bear much fruit, and experience the overflow with his joy!

How fitting it would be for us, as members of Christ's body, to recommit ourselves to a radical connectedness with the True Vine. How phenomenal it would be for the branches to embrace the pruning of the Vinedresser. How mind-blowing if the branches would dare to call out to the Vinedresser, "Come and take care of us. Hurry! We need you! We need your attention. We need you to prune away everything that impedes our fruit-bearing growth for you. Cut away our constant complaining about non-essential issues. Sever our persistent outcries for my way in music and worship styles. Lop off the me-and-my-church mentality that restricts your creative life-flow within us. Bring down strongholds of a religious spirit and in-fill us with discernment, power, and the compassion of your Holy Spirit. Trim back the bureaucracy of our church life and refresh us in the cool running streams of authentic ministry. Sheer away our haughty self-reliant strategies and reconnect us to the One who is our True Vine."

My spirit cries out, "Take me to that place! Take me to the place where the branches are deeply engrafted into the Vine, where the soil is rich with provision, the leaves blow freely in the breeze, and the grapes dance with joyful anticipation. Yes, take me to the vineyard that is filled with a bumper crop of mouth-watering fruit, where the sun shines brightly, where the land is rich, where the water flows freely, and where the Vinedresser smiles." What a festive chateau that would be!

Along the way, however, there are noteworthy specifics to keep in mind. If we are to take this journey and arrive at this notable, worthy estate, church leaders must remember these:

1. Sour grapes create too much whine. 2. Pruning is crucial for growth. 3. Sweet, long-lasting fruit is produced exclusively through The Vine. 4. Forever and a day, the harvest must be washed and stored in prayer, praise, and worship. 5. The finished product ought to be dispensed in preaching, teaching, and compassionate acts of service. 6. Always use God-honoring vessels. 7. Grapes grow in the vineyard but most of the wine is sent out. 8. Primary connectedness is to the Vine not to the cluster.

While I am fairly certain that grapes do not actually dance, I am equally certain that Jesus' vineyard is a place to celebrate our uncompromising relationship and connection to him. And in the process, if a Chardonnay should happen to tango with a Merlot, so be it!

The Leader's Prayer:

Lord of the Vineyard and of the Dance ... fill my cup! May I drink the new wine of your Spirit and be set free to dance to a new song. Keep me connected to the Vine of Real Life. Pour yourself out into the chalice of each day that I might taste and see that you are still good. In the name of Jesus, the True Vine ... Amen.

Chapter Three

How many balls can you keep in the air at the same time? What about plates? Can you spin them? Okay, how many? Three, four, nine, twelve? Can you do hoops or rings or clubs? How about flaming batons-the kind with fire blazing from both ends?

Is it just me, or does ministry ever feel like a juggling act? If it's just me, stop reading; you are just wasting your time. If, however, you ever feel like your life and ministry are spinning out of control, read on.

Ministry, whether it's my job as a church executive, or your job as a heavily involved lay person or pastor of a church, is by some weird definition a juggling act. Once you heave the small red meeting ball into the air, here comes the counseling plate. Catch the ball and spin the plate. With these in motion, you grab the funeral hoop and the wedding ring and the flaming crisis baton. Keep it moving! Get it up there! Higher! Move it! Move it! Move it! Launch the newsletter, fit in the phone, fling the files, boost the Bible study, pitch the Junior-High-camp-out tent, let the sermon fly, rotate a retreat, loft the purpose statement, and, don't forget to toss in a visit to Aunt Mabel at the Shady Rest Nursing Home For Prominent Members. Oh yea, one more thing-remember to relax and take some time for yourself and your family!

I know where church leaders live. It's not really Cirque du Soleil, but I recognize that it can feel that way some days-even some weeks, some months, or some years. For that reason, you are invited to come to the show, step under the Big Top in the Sky, and listen to the Ring Master. Wearing his traditional red suit and black top hat, he strides to the middle of the performance arena, takes his prominent place at center stage, and asks the grand Ministry Question of the Day. "Ladies and gentlemen of ministry, boys and girls of help and hope: how in the world do you juggle all of this incredible stuff and not get buried in a high wire, aerial collapse?"

The church leaders gathered in the bleachers look on with silent understanding. They know that they can perform this astounding trick for awhile. They know that they can juggle an incredible amount of work. But they also know that far too often things cave in-crash and burn; tumble to the ground; plummet to death-all around them.

With all of this in mind, let me suggest that what you hold on to is far more important than what you keep in the air. When Jesus was teaching about establishing a pattern for would-be-life-jugglers, he told them, "apart from me you can do nothing" (reference, italics mine). Jesus seems to be saying that-without his abiding presence, his sustaining power, and his ongoing coaching-jugglers can't even toss a single ball or spin a solitary plate! That means us-well intentioned, well trained, and exceedingly dedicated Christian leaders-can do nothing!

Consequently, when you are juggling your schedule, balancing your Blackberry, downloading your Outlook, rolling your eyes, spinning your head, launching your new venture, and on the verge of tossing it all in, try holding on to these:

Hold his Word in your mind. Hold his authority in your labor. Hold his humility in your example. Hold his song in your heart. Hold his love in your approach.

With these held tightly, go juggle, spin, toss, preach, teach, visit, and serve, knowing that the One whom you hold is ultimately the One who is holding you.

The Leader's Prayer:

God who spins the earth, tosses the waves, and holds the stars in space ... strengthen my grip and my focus. Help me to understand that more is not better, that faster is not sacred, and that fatigue is not holy. In this Juggling Act of Ministry, join me each day to the One without whom I can do absolutely nothing. In his unparalleled name ... Amen.

Chapter Four

Devastation grabs my heart. Stench fills my nostrils. Silence breaks with weeping. Bewilderment joins anger and sadness as orders of the day. Words get in the way and emerge only as an incredibly pitiful surrogate for birthing the raw images and emotions of the scene at Ground Zero.

Within a few short weeks of the heartrending events known as 9/11, I was invited to speak at a Thanksgiving Memorial Service in Brooklyn, New York. The Sunday Morning Service was planned to honor the heroic members of a New York City Fire Department Ladder Company. At my wife's urging and filled with a holy dash of chutzpah, I asked the local pastor if it was feasible to venture into Manhattan and get a closer look at Ground Zero. Little did I realize that God would use this somewhat bold request to take us deep into the core of the devastation.

Brother Edwin (Eddie) Quijano, a retired NYPD detective and member of the church, met us in Brooklyn and graciously guided us through the subway system into south Manhattan. As we climbed the steps to street level and turned the corner onto a short side street, Eddie said, "There it is." Several blocks in the distance the smoldering ruins of the Twin Towers popped into view. The scene hung there, framed like a deep black hole in the Manhattan skyline.

"Do you want to go closer?" Eddie quizzed.

"Yes!" blurted my wife with a swift yet uncomfortable reply.

We moved closer. The ominous destruction of this horrible act loomed ever more real. Eddie paused to chat with a couple of his former NYPD colleagues. After introducing us and explaining we had traveled to the city for me to preach at the Memorial Service, a captain asked if we wanted to "go in." We agreed and were promptly ushered behind the police barricade. In short order a Police Community Service van arrived to escort us to the perimeter of Ground Zero. Following a brief tour of the interior periphery, the Community Service Officer questioned Eddie if he and his guests would like to "go farther." An affirming nod ushered us closer to the core.

National-Guard-Security-Team clearance was secured and we waited for our turn. In those moments we respectfully watched family members shepherded into the huge common grave that swallowed up their loved ones. With hard hats on their heads, tears streaming down their cheeks, teddy bears clasped to their chests, and flowers clutched in their hands, grieving family members filed in. Minutes later, like a casket-less funeral procession, husbands and wives, moms and dads, brothers and sisters, grandmothers and grandfathers, and aunts and uncles simply filed out-a joyless march from an unthinkable tomb to a grief-laden home filled with a countless string of empty tomorrows.

At last, it was our turn. We walked directly to the platform-the place erected for President Bush and Mayor Giuliani. Time halted. An eerie miasma lingered. Speechless, we gazed into the stinking, steaming pit of rubble which just weeks before had graced Manhattan's skyline as a symbol of New York City's global grandeur, architectural splendor, world-wide prestige, and international financial prowess. Now this icon of achievement had been reduced to piles of hellish smoldering debris, chunks of strewn concrete, twisted configurations of steel, tons of shattered glass, shrouds of orange safety mesh, and the ashes of cremated human flesh. We gawped. We cried. We prayed. We left.

Sometimes leadership takes us on journeys we would not choose. Sometimes leadership takes us to places we do not wish to see. But on that Sunday morning, as I looked into the eyes of those courageous New York City firefighters, I knew that this journey to Ground Zero had taken all of us to a strange new place deep inside. They had been there. I had been there. And, God ... well, in spite of it all, he was still there.

The Leader's Prayer:

God of Strange Journeys ... bear with me, be with me, and put up with me and my reluctance to travel to difficult places. When all around seems to speed out of control, rally to my aid. Confirm your compassion, your attention, your sovereign rule. When deeds and circumstances make no sense, be my rock, my fortress, my repose. Furnish me with the words-or the suitable silence-to mirror your certain presence. Help me to look into the eyes of those who need to see you and to fulfill their longing. In the name of the One whose eyes are clearly on you ... Amen.

Excerpted from Every Mondayby Craig H. Smith Copyright © 2009 by Craig H. Smith. Excerpted by permission.
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