THERE IS MORE TO IT.
It was the first Sunday of December. Fall 2018 was very busy and demanding around Crossings, and we were getting ready to head into a season that would make the fall season look like a stroll in the park.
So I took the Sunday right after Thanksgiving off and stayed home.
I liked Ronald Reagan. He inspired me.
I liked Jimmy Carter. He seemed committed to his faith and was not ashamed to be a Christian.
I found myself interested in George H.W. Bush due to all the positive things being said about him personally as a husband, father, and friend. There are many reasons I like the Bush family, and this post will explore a few of them.
As a pastor and a believer in Jesus, it is a tremendous challenge to present the Advent story in the midst of a cultural holiday celebration that has little to do with the one who started the whole idea in the first place.
Telling the great story of the birth of Christ is somewhat difficult to tell year after year. What more is there to say? What more can we learn? Or what more must we learn?
Who among us would not want to have more wisdom? Isn’t wisdom the missing jewel of our lives?
In my twenties--and even into my mid-thirties--it did not occur to me that I was aging. It was easy to assume that life at 25 was the way life would be forever.
Then I blinked.
Gloria Gaither has been a family friend since my childhood days in Tennessee. She and her husband, Bill, have written over 700 songs that continue to inspire people from all walks of life in places all over the world. Today, she has agreed to be my guest blogger as I share with you her inspiring words about an inspiring lady we both cherish as a friend.
This one is dedicated to all the pastors and other people who, like me, have trouble saying no.
Whether you’re a business man or woman, a husband or wife, a dad or a mom, a teacher, principal, or supervisor, Jesus wants us to be known as people who will do what we say we will do.
When I got back to my hotel late Sunday evening, I had a few hours before I drove to the Indianapolis airport to head back to OKC. I just sat there and reflected on the gift–or rather, gifts–that were mine during my four days in Indiana.
If I could go back to my eighteenth year on the planet, I’d tell myself to cherish the people God brought to my life and the people yet to come. (Maybe the next blog post should be about the people who’ve blessed me and shaped me in the Oklahoma City chapter.)
It was 1976, and I was a senior in high school. While I must admit that I was not particularly interested in books or theological writings, I do remember one book coming onto the scene that garnered great attention and enthusiasm. The book was entitled, How Then Shall We Live by Francis Schaeffer.
Honestly, I did not have the intellectual capacity to read the book or know what it all meant. I was consumed with a love for music of all kinds, and I happened to have the great fortune of personally knowing some of the greatest songwriters of Christian music.
I’m a neat freak. A detail freak. I could not stand to look out our windows and see how the ground cover had covered up the large rocks.
It had to be trimmed.
I knew it would take at least half of the day to get it done. Hiring someone to do it was out of the question. So, I walked out of my garage with tools in hand. I prepared for a morning that would find me on my knees, working with newly-sharpened lawn scissors.