northpoint notes

I am one of those people who likes coffee. I like the aroma of coffee. I like the flavor of coffee. My grandmother introduced me to real, stove top, cooked-an-hour or more coffee before I started to school. I don’t need lattes or cappuccinos or fancy syrups. I don’t typically add milk or sugar. I like coffee. I don’t drink it for the caffeine – I drink decaf. I just like the flavor.

I also like coffee shops. I like the aroma, the ambiance, and usually the sense of warmth and welcome.

I also like some things to remain the same – like coffee shops. Here starts the whine. I walked into one of the coffee shops I frequent (not noticing that the name had been changed). I walked straight to the counter and waited my turn. My mind was focused on some projects for the day but I did notice a couple of new barristas – not a big deal since staff changes and schedule changes are common.

My turn – first problem, no decaf brewed. They could make an individual cup for me. It would take about a minute and a half. I was skeptical but what was I to do? The time was not the issue. I wasn’t sure about the coffee. So I bought a muffin and waited for my specially made cup of coffee. In that minute and a half (actually more like two) I looked around the coffee shop and I thought I had walked into an adult version of Romper Room (younger readers won’t remember that kid’s program).  How I missed the changes when I walked in I will never know.

Instead of the subtle lighting of “normal” coffee shops, this was very bright. The furniture was very modern in bright reds and yellows. While I like to study in coffee shops, the colors in this one were loud enough to distract.

I was eager to get to my car and on to the next meeting. As I sat in the car I took a sip of my specially-brewed, personal cup of coffee. It was the last straw. I have had worse coffee but… The coffee didn’t make up for all the other changes. I probably wouldn’t be whining now if the coffee had been really good.

I guess coffee shops are not the same yesterday, today and forever. One could hope.

Today was trash day – literally. The streets of the sub-division were lined with large brown containers – some with lids pushed up by bags of trash or large objects that just didn’t fit. Beside the large brown containers were tubs for recycling papers and plastics. The large discarded boxes told stories of recent purchases. Bottles revealed preferred beverages.

Mostly the entire sight revealed that we discard a lot of stuff. I wondered how much more stuff each home has that could be discarded – unwanted clothes, gadgets, papers.

It is someone easy to rid ourselves of unwanted things – put them at the street and someone will come and take them away.

What about the unwanted junk on the inside. Do we need a trash day to dump all the unwanted, unpleasant, decaying junk inside of us? If we had such a day, what would we try to keep – a little anger? a little self-centeredness? a little bitterness? a little….?

I first thought that perhaps Sunday would be a good trash day – bring our junk to church and dump it and allow Jesus to take it away. I was reminded that He died to take away the junk. I don’t need a special day to do that (although Monday’s might work). It seems it would be better to rid ourselves of the junk the moment we see it (besides Sunday is a day of worship and He deserves our best).

Whether there is a trash day or a daily cleaning, the house looks better when the junk is gone.

I am always impressed when someone remembers my name. Some people seem to have a gift for calling people by name or they work very hard to keep names and faces straight – which is perhaps more impressive than someone who has a good memory. If I know that someone values me enough to work at remembering my name, I am impressed and certainly feel warm toward that person.

In my personal quiet time with God, I am reading the Gospel according to Matthew. It begins with a list of names. It is the genealogy of Jesus. When I first read that list of names years ago, I remember feeling quite bored. In older versions of the Bible it was this person begat that person who begat another person who begat…and it seemed to go on without end. It did end, though, with Jesus.

One day, it occurred to me that these were real people – people who might otherwise be forgotten except that God chose to work through them to accomplish His purpose and He recorded their names. God knew their names – the names of people who were ancestors of Jesus.

Then I was reminded that if God knows their name, He knows my name. This holy, awesome, all powerful God, is personal enough to know my name. Now and then, in those quiet times with Him he whispers my name and I am reminded of an incredible privilege of a relationship with Him.

I went for my usual run today but didn’t feel much like a runner-more of a plodder. Each step felt laborious and each breath was more like a gasp. Some days are like that. On those days thoughts  creep into my mind: “Who are you kidding? You aren’t a runner.”

I have pictures in my mind of great strides – great form, and then I see my reflection in a window or my shadow on the street and reality sets in. I’m not ready for the Olympics (but then I don’t plan to be).

Someone once said that the difference between a runner and jogger is entering a race. If that is the criteria, I qualify. I may not look like a runner and some days I may not feel like a runner but I run.

There are days I don’t “feel” like a believer – doubts, fears, frustrations – all the things that seem contrary to the peace that comes with Christ. There are days when I’m confident I don’t look like a believer. I get angry. I’m not as caring as I should be- not hospitable-lacking patience.

The qualifier for being “Christian” is simply knowing Jesus-being in relationship with Him. There was a day when I entered this Christian race and became a Christ-follower. I may not always feel like a follower and may not always look like one but I am, nevertheless, a follower of Jesus.

I can improve to some degree as a runner (I’ll never be what I was 20 years ago – even then it wasn’t great). I can be a better follower of Jesus as well. The difference is, there is no limit to the improvement and He is there to encourage, prompt, correct, coach, and lead the way. It is great to be in this race. I will run with patience.

My children were involved in 4H for several years. One of their projects was raising market lambs. We started with 4 lambs and in time had a total of 26 sheep (I thought it was rabbits that multiplied).

When the flock had grown to about 10 or 12, my dad (who raised sheep for the fun of it?) was low on pasture and asked if he could bring his 10-12 sheep to graze with ours. We had plenty of pasture. Arrangements were made and the sheep arrived.

It was interesting to watch their behavior. The two flocks did their initial sniffing of each other and then went to different parts of the barn. I thought it odd but assumed that in a few days they would all be together. I watched them for weeks. They slept in different parts of the barn; they went out to the pasture at different times; ate in different parts of the field and went for water at different times.

They remained two distinct flocks of sheep. Dad’s sheep remained with us into late fall and winter. The pasture faded and we began to feed hay and provide water in the barn so it wouldn’t freeze.

I began to notice something when I started to put hay in the rack. All the sheep came running into the barn together. Over the next few weeks two flocks became one as they became dependant on one source for food and water.

There is a point to this story. When the sheep – all the sheep became dependant on their shepherd, they became one flock.

I have seen people behave just like sheep. We greet one-another (the ritual sniffing) and then isolate ourselves into groups carrying out our mission and vision and rarely talking with other groups.

Jesus often referred to us as sheep (it wasn’t a compliment -just descriptive).  Could it be that if his sheep really became dependant on Him as shepherd, we might truly become one and bring Him greater glory?

It’s Sunday – each one has a sameness about it and yet there is a certain unpredictability. Today was no exception.

I begin my Sundays with a personal time of prayer around 5:30 AM. I try to arrive at church between 7:00 and 7:30 AM. I unlock doors, make coffee and then spend time in the auditorium praying for ministry leaders, those who will attend and for God’s anointing on the worship.

I review the message for the day, make certain the PowerPoint is in the media room. Then back  in the office looking over the service. One of our media people stopped in the office. We talked about how God works, about family needs and what God is doing in his life. It was a good time.

Chatted with and children’s worker about mother’s day and plans she may have.

Met with all involved in ministry for a time of prayer prior to the beginning of worship. Then back to the office for our prayer room team to pray with me.

Then those last minute notes – a lady just had a baby yesterday – both are doing well but still in the hospital. The baby was premature. Could I tell the church about the new arrival and pray for them. The leader of a ministry wants to express thanks for the team of volunteers. Is the video set to announce the National Day of Prayer.

I see new families come in and a family I haven’t seen in a while. It is always good to see new families and old friends.

I preach (longer than intended). I am assured by a few after the service that I should not worry about time. It was nice to have the assurance but I want to be sensitive to people. There are conversations after the service – conversations about needs, about God’s grace and faithfulness. There was a request to use one of our resources on parenting. A lady wants to use it in her work place.

I meet the new people and watch as others do a good job of making them welcome and accepted.

As I am ready to leave someone asks if I could pray for them. Several of us gathered for prayer. This person is battling some physical challenges and wanted prayer.

We left church for the hospital to see the new baby and mother and then went home.

I hadn’t planned on the media person in my office, the prayer time with a person after the service, the hospital visit, the request to use church resources for personal ministry at work (that was a no-brain-er – we want our people doing ministry in the marketplace.)

It was the unsceduled ministries that are encouraging. I like things planned and on schedule but I love when God presents those opportunities to bless others, to pray for them, and encourage them.

It is good to have a plan but it is also good to hold the plan loosely in case God has other things in mind.

I believe God smiles when His children do things that reflect Him. I received the following e-mail from my daughter – I smiled, wiped a tear and I think God smiled, too.

Dad,
Just wanted to share with you about the weekend.  Greg had great response to all three of his concerts.  In fact, there was a youth pastor from either the Saturday night service or the Sunday morning service who came again on Sunday night and brought his youth group.  He had several pastors from Saturday night take information so they can book him later in the year.  The
cool thing is that going into this weekend, he was only guaranteed one week’s salary.  The Sunday morning church was small and his mom and dad’s church doesn’t usually have a big crowd on Sunday nights.  Well, this weekend the number of people didn’t matter because Greg brought home a month’s worth of salary in love offerings this weekend!  Some help was
provided by Madison (our 9 year old granddaughter) was working the CD table Sunday night.  She shared that “she liked to listen to both CDs and if it were up to her, she would buy both.  However, she is not on either one . . . yet.  But when she makes her first CD . . .”

The REALLY cool thing is we were able to help Mike and Kelly out this week. We were facing this week with a guarantee of one week’s salary from the Saturday night concert.  Makes one a little nervous.  Instead, he came home with a whole month’s salary!  Mike and Kelly have been working on eating at home more and cutting down on misc. spending.  They finally had some
breathing room and then Kelly’s master’s loan payments began coming due.  As a result, they are not making it into the black every month.  This week they were going to have to put groceries on their credit card which already carries a balance.  We felt like we wanted to help them out but need to be careful that we are not enabling them.  I know they are really trying, so
when Greg and Mike sat down to make the menu for the week, Greg realized we had several of the things Mike needed in our freezer.  Also, Greg had already done our grocery shopping earlier in the day and had money left over from what we had budgeted.  So we were able to use the extra from our grocery budget, a ham, a chicken and a few misc. items and an extra $15 to
help them out this week.  Mike was feeling bad about “taking” food from our freezer.  But Greg told him that the food in our freezer was bought within our budget from week’s past.  And, God blessed us with more than we can imagine this weekend.  It only seems right to give some of it away as a blessing to someone else.  How cool is that!

God is good!

I have always had some interest in my family tree. My grandfather’s brother (my great-uncle) researched our family and traced its roots to Pennsylvania in the 1700s. Further research would find roots in Europe. I have had ancestors who have been farmers, masons, teachers, pastors. I have relatives who fought in the Civil War (for the North), World War I and World War II.

There are numerous stories I could tell about my ancestors and it would be interesting – mostly to me and a few close relatives. The study of our ancestory seems to be something of a selfish pursuit. Selfish may be the wrong or at least too strong a word. The study of our family tree seems more about validating who we are – finding something in the tree to boast about or to at least be encouraged with.

As I have thought about that family tree, I was reminded that several members of that tree are still living – my siblings, cousins, and perhaps more significantly for me – children and grandchildren.

It is fun and perhaps enlightening to study our family of origin. However, I cannot change one branch of that old family tree. I can’t remove it, or make it better or worse. It is what it is.

I can, however, have an impact on the parts of the tree that are alive and growing and on those parts to be added in the years to come. I wonder what might happen if less time was spent figuring out where we have come from and where we have been and spent more time investing in where we are going and in what we can do to impact those younger and newer branches of the tree.

I calculate that I have prepared and given more than 3,000 sermons or Bible studies over the course of my ministry. Today, I added another to that total. This afternoon (before I even calculated the numbers) I was hit with the thought – “so what?” What difference have all those sermons made. There have been affirmations – “good sermon;” “nice job.” But has all that preparation and preaching made a difference in the lives of people?

The Apostle Paul suggest that faith comes through hearing the preaching of the word of God (Romans 10:14). I would hope that through the years faith has been awakened in some, stirred and bolstered in others. Paul wrote to young Timothy and encouraged him to continue preaching and teaching (I Timothy 4:13).  He also said that elders whose role is preaching and teaching are worthy of double honor (I Timothy 5:17). Clearly, Paul valued preaching as a way of communicating the message of Christ.

I don’t feel worthy of honor and certainly not double honor. What I know is that making a difference is not in the craft of creating or delivering sermons but rather the mysterious work of the Holy Spirit. It is the way it should be. If I could prepare a sermon that could change a life, I could take credit for making a difference. Where would God’s glory be in that?

But God was able, ”through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe” (I Corinthians 1:21). When He changes a life – when He makes a difference; He gets the glory.

I may never make a difference in a person’s life, but God will always make a difference.

I didn’t really care who won, so missing the NCAA final game was not a big concern. I went to bed before tip-off. I awoke around 11:00 – wide awake as if I had a dose of caffeine. I decided to get up and see if I could find the results of the game.

It was still on – 2 minutes to play and Memphis was up by 9. I was sure Memphis would win but decided to watch these last two minutes (which are never only 2 minutes in sports).  Kansas tied the game with a last second desperation shot (actually there were 2 seconds on the clock as the ball went through the net. Memphis attempted their own desperation shot that wasn’t close.

Overtime. Kansas wins. Those last few minutes were exciting – the 2 minutes of regulation and the OT were intense. Players were giving everything they had to win. I have no idea what the rest of the game was like but the end was exciting. It really doesn’t matter who was ahead at anyone point during the game. What matters is who iwas ahead when the final buzzer sounded.

While all parts of the game have some impact on the outcome, it is still the score at the end that matters. I once read an article about running that said, “it is not how you start that counts but how you finish.” That is only partially true but the point is that no one remembers whether you started too slow or had the wrong pace. They remember who crossed the finish line first.

The journey of faith is often compared to a race in Scripture. In this journey, the end of the race really is important. While the beginning, middle and late stages all contribute to our growth, it is how we stand at the end that counts. The great news is that a person can have a horrible beginning and middle of the journey and the entire race be redeemed by God’s grace.

My grandfather was a cranky, angry man most of his life. At age 90 he chose to trust his life to Christ. He died at age 91. His only regret was that he had run the race without Christ for 90 years. I don’t recommend running the race as he did but it was the end of the race that mattered.