From July 4 through September 3rd I'll be taking what's called a sabbatical leave. Officially, it's for rest and renewal as well as learning and retooling. Most of July will be downtime: relaxed time with God, Elaine (my wife) and family, as well as lots of fishing. In August I'll visit 4-5 churches that effective in making disciples for Jesus the Christ and which are somewhat larger than ours. Our church is blessed with being at another growing-point, and I need to learn what leadership and ministry looks like at the next level. I'm grateful to the leadership of our congregation for allowing me this opportunity! I'm blessed to serve an awesome, dynamic congregation, and I will miss them.
In fact, though, there's simpler, deeper reason for this time apart. It can best be explained in a story. A couple of Sundays ago, prior to worship, I spent some walking around the south part of our property in a little time of prayer, thought, and preparation. This is my normal routine when the weather is good. That morning, though, a storm was moving in fast from the west. Just as I thought it might be better for me to head indoors, I noticed someone walking northbound toward our church facility. Though he was about a quarter of a mile off, I knew who it was by his distinctive walk. It was my friend Robert.
Robert came to our church a couple of years ago thanks to the ministry of another friend - Danny. I'm not sure what the currently "acceptable" term is that describes someone like Robert. At one time it was "special needs persons," but that's probably old school now. Robert has some challenges with speech and cognition. His thinking process is careful, but slow. His gait is a little different. Some might see Robert as socially awkward, but he's always genuine and accepting.
As Robert came on to the church property and walked over to me, he was beaming; carrying most of what is his in a Walmart sack, as he usually does. "I got here before the rain!" he proudly announced. I commended him on walking the distance to church on such a threatening morning. He said, "It's church. They told me not to come because it was going to rain. I told them, 'It's church. I'm going to go!'"
That's Robert. He doesn't drive, but he finds a way to get to worship. He's there all morning, arriving with the musicians and hospitality folks for the first service, and there until everything is put up from the second service. He's always looking for ways he can help. He joins in our prayer circles before worship; he's actually led them a couple of times. He stacks chairs, makes coffee, greets people, prays; whatever he can do to contribute to lifting up Jesus and drawing people to them. He takes my sermon notes home after the last service to study them more. On the Sunday on which he beat the rain he asked me if I could get him a book on prayer. During our last service he usually sits up front with me. To watch him worship during a song of praise or prayer is to watch the simple, unbridled joy of being in the arms of Jesus - unhindered by any baggage.
I think about how I approach worship sometimes. I think about how fickle my motivation to worship can be, depending on the state of my attitude or the circumstances of my life. I note how easily I can be distracted by something I'm happy or by something I'm unhappy about. I realize how my mind can swirl with my self-imposed complexities of life and ministry - what program needs to start or stop, what's working in worship and what isn't, who's pleased and who isn't, how much money do we have or not have, or should the thermostat in the worship center be at 68 or 72 degrees. Then I look at Robert, who just loves Jesus and looks for every opportunity to serve, with minimal distraction. The world might look at me and then look at Robert and say that I am surely the one more "blessed" or "successful." I look at Robert and say that he is the one who is rich beyond measure, and I have much to learn from him. I'm grateful that God has graced me with knowing him.
So my spiritual hope for these two months is to be more like Robert; to let all the scaffolding collapse, and to just stand before Jesus in wonder, awe, and praise.
I'll see you around the next bend in the river. Have a blessed remainder of the summer.
, "It's church
Raking Leaves
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Fall is here. The sun is moving towards the edge of the frame where, in
just a few weeks it will hit the bumper rail and start back towards the
other side...
2 years ago
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