When grace grows up it’s kind of cool. I’d like to think that if it weren’t for grace I’d be in a whole different place in my life. If it weren’t for some work in therapy and God’s healing grace I can only imagine what life would be like right now at the ripe old age of 39. I am the other side of grace. What grace looks like when simmered under low heat for 39 years. (Okay sounds wierd, but in my head it makes sense)

We’ve been down into Hollywood on a couple of occasions of recent and everytime we drive through the city the sights, sounds, and the smells of the city I grew up in as a kid appear out of no where. Let me illustrate. We as a family recently attended a Dodger game a few weeks ago. Everytime we attend a memory of a game I attended with my dad as a kid always seems to appear. I remember it like yesterday. Dad filled to the rim with his favorite baseball drink, began raising his voice. We were with the YMCA on a field trip on this particular day to the Dodger game and those around us started to not only smell, but hear “father” and his loud voice dominate the stands. The next scene is dad being taken away by stadium police until the game was over. Although I don’t remember much of what happened after that game, I still remember sitting in the upper level seating watching the Astros and Dodgers play and everytime we go to a game that’s the first memory I think of from when I was a kid in growing up in the city and feeling like a heel over “father” and his lack of appreciation for his gifts of grace of kids in his life.

 The kind of grace I continue to experience in my life is the kind of grace that heals the soul. The kind of grace that nudges you along in life and keeps your eyes focused on the one who is grace. If it weren’t for grace in my life I’d not be married to an awesome woman, blessed with wonderful kids, and overwhelmed with God’s blessing of being a pastor, called to give grace back. If it weren’t for grace in my life I’d not have the shelter and food that my parents once couldn’t provide for us as kids. The kind of grace that continues to be and has always been faithful in provision for my family today. 

The question I ask myself today is this; “what happens when grace grows up?”  

Leslie Newbigin on Jesus and the kingdom of God…

“When the message of the kingdom of God is separated from the name of Jesus two distortions follow, and these are in fact the source of deep divisions in the life of the church today. On one hand, there is the preaching of the name of Jesus simply as the one who brings a religious experience of personal salvation without involving one in costly actions at the points in public life where the power of Satan is contracting the rule of God and bringing men and women under the power of evil. Such preaching of cheap grace, of a supposed personal salvation that does not go the way of the cross, of an inward comfort without commitment to costly Action for the doing of God’s will in the world – this kind of evangelistic preaching is a distortion of the gospel. A preaching of personal salvation that does not lead the hearers to challenge the monstrous injustices of our society is not mission in Christ’s way. It is peddling cheap grace.

On the other hand, when the message of the kingdom is separated from the name of Jesus, the action of the church in respect of the evils in society becomes a mere ideological crusade”… pp9

(Took this on my treo this morning) For some reason our block is having one of those rolling black outs due to the heat. Wasn’t feeling tremoundously happy. Doing work here with the free wi-fi.  106 expected in Palmdale today.

Psalm 95:4 In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him.

Dudes.

We recently invited a Spanish speaking congregation to rent space at our church for their worship services. I was introduced recently to the congregation during one of their services after 45 minutes of worship. I had wanted the church to know that we were partners in the ministry of the Gospel and wanted them to know they could feel at home.  I had asked the assistant pastor if he was going to translate making the assumption that every one present spoke Spanish only. He says, “no, they know English. I’ll translate if I need to.”

In light of this experience this is very interesting from a recent article from the associated press.

While churches from every imaginable tradition have been adding Spanish services to meet the needs of new immigrants, an increasing number of Hispanic ethnic congregations are going the other way - starting English services. It’s an effort to meet the demands of second- and third-generation Hispanics, keep families together and reach non-Latinos. Continue reading article here.

HT: Juan

If you’re not paying attention, you might miss the small things in ministry that happen to you as a pastor. They’ll fly by you quicker than a shooting star. These last few weeks have been a roller coaster of sorts in that I’ve been involved with people like J who’ve recently experienced the joy in finding out that her cancer was in remission. I’ve talked and prayed with people like Jimmy who continues to struggle with terminal cancer and somehow still smiles and still knows that God is still somehow faithful when your bones hurt so badly that you ask for the Lord to take you quickly.

Recently, I helped lead a memorial service for a longtime member and friend of the church who helped build the church brick by brick in 1941. A faithful member who gave his heart to community. I’ve seen and witnessed God’s faithfulness by those who don’t have much, who give of their time to the church with their own presence as a gift back to the Lord. I’ve also witnessed God’s provision for the church in every aspect, everything from financial gifts for building projects to gifts of food for the food pantry that we run twice a month that is currently low on food because the county is running short of supplies.

Over the last 48 hours I’ve experienced a kind of community that only happens when you are sitting still. A kind of community that only happens when you are actually paying attention to the God things of ministry. Yesterday I talked on the phone with someone who actually took the time to ask me how I was doing and what I needed prayer for. This afternoon got another phone call from a good guy who wanted to update me on a prayer request he shared recently in church. He again asked a similar question. He also wanted me to know that he really enjoyed what was happening in worship on Sunday mornings and that he was thinking of me today. What floored me was these two guys asked me something that moved me to a point of awe and gratefulness for the opportunity that I’ve been given by God to serve with the people of God in community. I must confess that it’s foreign to hear the words, “pastor, how can I pray for you?”

It was a simple reminder that as a pastor, it’s sometimes ok and even refreshing for others to hear that you might need prayer. It shows those you serve that your in the midst of the same kinds of things that most people face day to day. It shows that you’re human and that you’re not perfect, which to me is ok to admit sometimes as a pastor. As a pastor It’s encouraging to know that those you shepard sometimes recognize that we pastors aren’t super pastors which relieves some of the pressure in needing to be perfect and needing to be able to meet everyones needs, which is a myth to think that any pastor is capable of meeting every single persons need in the congregations they serve. Praise you Lord for the little accolades of life that come along in the form of your simple reminders of your faithfulness.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_YVKsajjPA]

A nice way to start the weekend…

Because of what I experienced growing up in the city, I always wanted to have my family live in an area of town that at least was some what safe from the mayhem of a city afflicted with issues ranging from crime to addiction to alcohol and drugs. Suburbia if you will. Clean. Quiet. Middle Class. There are other parts of the valley that we opted not to live because of the issues of crime and whether or not we’d feel that our kids could be safe. We also had hope that we could find a couple of good schools in the part of town we live that were able to meet our kids needs educationally. Last week our neighborhood, less than a mile from where we live experienced a drive by shooting right after the high school behind our home let out. A car of kids drove up to a kid with a semi-automatic in hand and shot the kid. The kid by God’s grace somehow survived. Not much different. The sounds of the city are becoming the sounds of suburbia. The only difference? The neighborhood is just a little cleaner. 

 ht: Roxburgh

Prayers for Jimmy again. he is on round the clock hospice and his body is shutting down. just spent some of the afternoon with him.