Pastor Paul's August 30 Newsletter Article

Here's my article for the August 30 Federated Flash

Pastor Paul’s Letter to the Church at Weatherford

I must have discovered the music of Jim Croce the day he died; but when I did, it was with a vengeance. One of my favorites is from his last album, released a little more than two months after his death. The song is called “Recently” and warns about having a long memory. The bridge and last verse go like this:

'Cause mem'ries can be friends
Or they can take you to a place
The you never thought you'd be again
And take you to a place
That you never ever thought
That you would see again

Doesn't matter now who was wrong
The future is tomorrow 'cause the past is gone
And I'm findin' that I'm not as strong
As I thought that I used to be
'Cause recently it seems
I've been lettin' your mem'ry get to me

Remembering the future is nice, but when our memories get to us, it hurts our ability to live in the present. The Church (Capital “C” Church) is getting itself into trouble, it’s letting its mem’ries get the better of it. The Church, like so much of America, likes to remember “The Good Ol’ Days.” Those days when everything was better and we were on top and things were the way “they were supposed to be.” There are two problems with this though. The first is that nostalgia is always better than the real thing. The second is like the first, were the good times really that good?

As for the church, these were the days when women couldn’t hold congregational or denominational leadership roles. These were the days when children were herded and not seen, wait, that’s seen and not heard. If you weren’t wearing a suit or a dress, you were seated in the back. If your skin was the “wrong” color, you wouldn’t be seated at all.

Those days are gone, thanks be to God! So here’s our problem, when we mourn the past, we leave no room for the future. When we let our memories get to us, we choke the ability to live in the present. Neither of these will do.

Matthew’s gospel teaches Jesus saying, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” (Matthew 6:25-27)

I’m not saying “don’t worry, be happy,” I’m saying there’s work to do in the Kingdom of God and we are called to do it. If we sing laments about the past all day long it won’t be long before that’s all we know. Share those memories, remember the Saints fondly, but if we do not train the next generation of Saints up then we will leave a church that is dedicated to the dead when it should be pointing to the Living God. So ask a question! Take someone under your wing! There is no such thing as a stupid question, only answers that give glory to God… or not… and remember, today’s youth are going to be leaders before we know it.

See you in Worship, Paul

A Retirement Party

Dear friends, allow me to introduce you to my New Balance 295's. I got them in Austin while in Seminary. I wore them while walking a two plus mile path for about two years while there. I have worn them while walking the track in Berryville, Arkansas. I wore them walking in Marshall, Texas. They've been around.

I even wore them while walking in Mexico. Mexico, Missouri that is--65265. It's the home of the Mexico Military Academy and the Miss Missouri Pageant. It's also where I was born and where my parents died.

So to say the least, these shoes have been around the block. They've gone through several insole replacements. They have carried me far and well. But today is their day.

The soles, while still having some tread, have failed internally. The roll bars now roll in ways they should not. They have been replaced by a new Nike. It's a good shoe, but I just don't see them lasting eleven years like these NB's.

Thanks for the support.

An Exercise in Self Reflection from 30 Years Ago

In college we had an assignment in my interpersonal communications class where we had to share three objects. One to represent how we think people see us. One to represent how we see ourselves. And one to represent how we want to be seen.

For the first I picked a small paper bag. I believe people saw me as a certain thing, a certain category. Looking for the guy to help with Econ homework, take the bag. Looking for a laugh, take the bag. Looking for a shoulder to cry on, take the bag. I think that is how people saw me. The take what you need guy.

The second item played into the first, my second item was a large paper grocery sack. This sack held all of the little sacks. It's very fragmented in the bag, but there's a ton of stuff in it.

The third item was the healthy integration of the sack of sacks. The third item I picked was a cigar. Each component of who I am is a part of one integrated unit. Taking a pull off the cigar gives a bit of everything. Like a cigar is one smoke with many layers of many leaves, that is how I wanted to be--one man whose many experiences made for a complete being.

When presenting my items, I was sure to mention that not everybody loves a cigar and that's just fine because a cigar can only be a cigar. Love it or hate it, a cigar can only be a smoke. As for me, I am who I am and if you don't like me at least I'm true to myself.

As a child of God I need to phrase that differently. As a child of God, when in accord with the Holy Spirit, I am who I am called to be, and if you don't like me God still loves me.

Lies My Father Told Me, Volume 1

Let's face it, parents lie. Often it's because kids aren't at a developmental stage where the truth would make any sense. This is why there are so many different versions of "The Birds and the Bees." So not all lies are bad, per se, but then again, every lie is a step further away from the truth. One of the first lies my father told me is that people don't care what you look like, who you are trumps what you look like. Such a lie.

We live in a society where appearance is all important, and in my many job searches since 1984 I have found this to be true.

Here's a nice story: A member of the congregation in Marshall once told me a story about my first day in the pulpit. She said when I entered the sanctuary for the first time, coming in behind the acolyte, she thought "That is a whole bunch of man." Then I opened my arms and said, "May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all." That was when she told  me I could be her pastor.

So, in a way my dad was right, once I got in the door, I was judged for who I was. The difficulty now is finding another part of the Body of Christ, where the people will judge me for who I am, not how I look. Now that wasn't something my dad ever warned me about.

So what's this all about? Here's something I know: One day I will be judged for not being a good steward of my body. I am a fat man. This is a truth.

But I will not be judged  as someone who chose not to consider a possible pastor because of appearance. Those people are living my father's lies.

The Next "The Day the Music Died"

It's being widely reported that Dick Clark has died from a coronary and Levon Helm, drummer for The Band is desperately ill.

You know, I really don't have much to add to this, but it reflects a slice of my youth going to the permanent realm of memory. Go with God.

Life Sized Gaps

Looking for a sermon illustration about houses, I got out my Shel Silverstein books. Looking at my copy of "Falling Up" (Harper Collins, 1996) I find this inscription dated May 1996:

For Daniel,

Congratulations on your successful transition to Casis and on your wonderful fourth grade report card.

Here's to your continued success.

With lots of love, Dad. 

I read this and it makes me want to cry. I purchased this from Half Price Books (HPB) in Austin, Texas in mid-2004, a little over eight years after it was given as a gift, as a reward from father to son. Daniel would have been about seventeen years old when I purchased the book. Today, for the first time in several years I opened it up to find the inscription again.

Who are Daniel and who are Dad? I don't know. Why did this book come to HPB? What happened in those eight years when a father purchased this book and when I purchased it? There's a gap in there that's that is life-sized; two lives for that matter, and probably several more. My mind wanders.

Was Daniel angry at Dad? Was there a painful divorce and selling this book was like pulling a splinter for a young man? Did Daniel die and a grief stricken family couldn't handle seeing his books another day? Did Daniel and his family just need the four bucks he could get from HPB?

I don't know the answer to any of these questions, I don't even know all of the questions. It makes me wonder, and it makes me sad that a once treasured memento is now now in my hands. So Dad and Daniel, I pray all is well with you today. I pray your hopes and dreams are being realized everyday. Take care and know your book is being cared for.

In the Last Twenty-Five Years

I'm sitting here in my study, and I've been looking at an "old" picture. I say "old" because the year this shot was taken was in 1985. That was the year I completed my Master's Degree in Counselor Education/Student Personnel at Emporia State, so I doesn't seem so long ago to me. Then again, twenty-five years is over one-half of my lifetime ago, so maybe it is old for a picture.

It's a picture of the Deacons of First Presbyterian in Marshall. They're standing tall at the front of the sanctuary, all seventeen of them. I look at them and I wonder, would they recognize their church today? I gotta say no, there are a lot of things they would see that they wouldn't recognize at all.

We can begin with the people who make up the church board, what Presbyterians call the Session. The first thing they would see is women! Half of our Session is women as required in Presbyterian polity. How would seventeen men, most of them balding and gray, feel about working under a session that was half women? Granted, the pic is from '85 and not '55, but I think it would have made for some uncomfortable silence before the chatting began.

These men are all in suits, not a blazer or a sport coat among the bunch, but suits. How would they feel about the more casual atmosphere they would find today? I see some of these men's wives in church every Sunday, and they don't seem too upset about it, but if they were dropped into worship by some sort of time travelling parachute, they would be in shock.

They would also probably be uncomfortable that almost nobody smokes anymore, except for the young men and women who were in the church pre-school in 1985. That would be a conversation.

Don't get me started on the two hymnals that had been published since 1985, with a third in the pipeline.

What they would still find is Christ. Christ living, crucified, and raised is preached every Sunday.

These men and I may not share much. The youngest appears to be twenty years younger than me. We probably think differently about a whole lot of issues, but I pray that we would all find that we take the same living water from the taproot of the tree of faith. We are all, then and now, saved by grace through faith. For this, thanks be to Christ.

Oh, one more thing, what would they say about me blogging this about them. Computers? Blogs? The Interwebs? It is a whole new world, saved by the same ol' God. Hallelujah!

It's been a long time since I just put up a music video, and I'm not quite sure what prompted me to seek this one out, but I'm not sorry. It's hard to imagine that this gem of progressive rock came from a six piece band out of Topeka, Kansas.

One night when I was in college I saw Rich Williams, the guitar player on the left side of the video, playing pool in a 3.2 beer bar in Topeka. Ah, nostalgia...

A St. Patrick's Day Tale

Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone!


This tale, written by Philip Chevron (acoustic guitar and background vocals on the video) is about the immigrant's tale. It's bittersweet and nostalgic, it's mournful and hopeful. It's what I expect from The Pogues. To tonight, as you heft a pint of the Stout (NOT a Black-and-Tan unless you're itchin' for a row) remember those who have come seeking better life.

Bowl Inflation

Alrighty, I'm pushing 50 years old. I know that's not so old, but frankly, to the greater half of the American population, I might as well be their grandfather. But that's not what this is about.

When I was your age... (nobody likes to hear that, do they) college football bowl games ended on New Year's Day. That was it! I remember when it was scandalous that the Rose Bowl went to the second of January!

Today, we're in the age of the Bowl Championship Series, and dozens of other bowls have found that there's gold in them there bowls, so bowls have proliferated like nukes in the 70's over the past ten or fifteen years. But still, when it came time to get down to business, when it came time to play the majors, when it came time to play the BCS games, they had center stage and it was great. So the Rose Bowl has been played, the Sugar Bowl has been played, the Fiesta Bowl has been played, and the Orange Bowl has been played. So tonight, tonight it's the biggest game of all...

That's right, tonight it's the GoDaddy.com Bowl from Mobile, Alabama featuring Middle Tennessee State verses Miami of Ohio.

Look, I love college football, but can't we get this over with? How far do we have to go past New Year's Day with college football? What's the GoDaddy.com bowl doing in the midst of the BCS games? When will someone say enough is enough?

Oh yeah, when the goose is cut open so we can get all of the eggs out at once. I read that somewhere once before somewhere.

Wuss!

Pennsylvania Governor Ed Wendell has declared us a nation of "Wusses" because the NFL didn't play a game in a blizzard. Well, here's what I have to say about that.

First, if you want to get style points on FoxNews by name calling then pick another city. Philly fans once booed Santa Claus for getting hurt in a parachute stunt. Then Philly fans once booed a guy who fell from the upper deck because he didn't get hurt. Wusses?

Second, if you're paying the contracts of the guys who could get hurt in all of this you might be happy the league (not the team or the city but the league) called off the game.

Third, if you are injured and emergency vehicles are focusing on maintaining Lincoln Financial Field instead of your street you might be glad the game was called.

Forth, if you're a beer vendor you're probably glad you didn't have to navigate snowy steps carrying case after case of bottles for two hours.

Finally Mr. Governor, get out of your limo, ditch your security detail, and tell the good people of the city you once served as mayor that they've become wussified. I'll watch that on pay-per-view.

On another weather related wuss note, an ESPN Radio talking head this morning said that "This wouldn't have happened in Colorado where he lived." He didn't mention that snow doesn't stay on the ground in eastern Colorado. Denver, the front range, the high plains, they can all get snow, but then the winds blow and it's all gone in a day or two. Don't play the "Winter in Denver" card until you compare it to a Philly blizzard.

As for me, I grew up in Kansas City where when winter locked in it locked in. Winds from Alberta made the air temps zero and the wind chills horrible. When it snowed, it stayed on the ground for a couple of months. Oh, that was after the glaze of ice that fell first.

Then I moved to the high plains. Yes it's cold, and yes it's windy (dear GOD is it windy), but while I remember Trick or Treating being snowed out on Halloween three months later I was on the golf course on Ground Hog Day. Wuss this five iron.

Congrats UConn Women's Hoops

Last night, the University of Connecticut Huskies Women's Basketball team set a new NCAA consecutive wins streak record with 89 wins. This beats the former record set by John Wooden's UCLA Bruins between 1971-1973.

Sports TV, radio, and blogs have been on fire about whether this record means as much because it's a "women's" record. I believe there is only one way to know, judge them by the quality of the competition they faced.

Were Geno Auriemma's teams tested like Wooden's? Which team saw more ranked opponents? You can ask the question about which team dominated its opponents more, but then you also have to ask if a blowout a sign of a superior team or inferior competition?

Well, I won't say that one is better or worse. Let me say congrats tot he UConn Huskies (not the Yukon Huskies) on their achievement. It was a long time coming and is well deserved. Don't let any nay sayers take a bit of your achievement away from you with the words "you're girls."

Have You Ever Been to Marshall, Texas in the Winter?

If you have never been to Marshall, Texas in the winter, you are missing a wonderland.

Marie and I saw the lighting of the courthouse lights on the day before Thanksgiving and it was a joy. The Chamber brought in Rhema Marvanne to do a show and it was great. If you've never heard her, follow the link. The most wonderful thing about this young singer is that even with such powerful pipes, she is still a seven year old girl. She's not twenty-two in a seven year old's body nor is she forty-eight in a seven year old's body. She's seven and that's special.

There are light shows all over Marshall with bus tours and horse drawn carriages to see them in.

There's even an outdoor ice rink on the square.

There's only a few days left to see it all, so come on down. For details, check out http://visitmarshalltexas.org/ on the internet. See you soon!

Ode to Merlin

Here's a question, where do you see Christ in your life. The answer for me is easy, I see Christ everyday in my wife Marie. I see her reflecting the light of God everyday. There is no better example of her love than in her choice of pets.

This is Merlin. We, rather, she adopted him from the Good Shepherd Humane Society in Eureka Springs, Arkansas soon after we moved to Berryville. Marie didn't pick the prettiest kitty at the shelter, oh no. She selected the cat who needed love and a home more than any of the other cats at the shelter.

We don't know about his life before the shelter, but we suspect it wasn't good. We do know that Merlin had been returned by his first adopted family. They were looking for a cat who would be a kitty for a family with small kids, and that was not Merlin's demeanor.

I know that cat's don't have facial expressions, but Merlin's continence was dour, he looked sad and when his eyes were just so, he looked scared to death. We suspect that he was abused at one time because he was always skittish. But you know what, that's what Marie saw at the shelter. She saw a cat that needed a home. Now, isn't that Christ-like, loving those who need love most of all.

She saw a cat that needed love, even if all he would do is cower under the bed or in the corner. She knew that she could give him the love he needed to be a cat again. And he was a cat again.

Yesterday we had to put him down. He was just too sick and there was nothing we could do to make his life better. Marie cried, and God love him, I did too. We miss you Merlin, but where you are now, there is no fear, there is no pain, and there is joy.

Thanks for being our cat.

The Past and the Future and My Impressions of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary

In the most recent issue of the Presbyterian Outlook magazine (Vol. 192, No. 19, September 20, 2010), the news from Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary (APTS) goes like this:

Austin Seminary continues to see a trend toward younger students with a demonstrated commitment to service. The median age in the last two entering classes was 28.

and so on.

Austin Seminary did not herald the building of its new residence facility, as it usually does, in this issue of The Outlook. Anderson House is a new multi family facility built with Green Energy partnership codes from AustinEnergy.

On the facade of the building is a quote from the Rev. John Anderson, major donor and building namesake:

"Send us preachers who are not boring."

Of course, it's in Latin because that way nobody will know what it means. It's an inside joke.

Now for my rant: When Marie and I got to Austin, the average age of students was in the mid-30's. That was fine with us because we were in our late-30's. When we got to APTS, we were as welcomed as seminary could make us.

Is it easy to get welcomed in seminary? I always said that seminary was the best and worst of the church with the best and the worst of higher education, and as an ordained Elder in the church who worked at a major university, I felt I could speak from experience in both realms. I feel my assessment is not good or bad, but I feel it's accurate.

Today, with the push toward youth, I do not know if Marie and I would be welcomed at APTS like we were ten years ago. We weren't young. We didn't have two kids and one more on the way. We weren't then and still aren't the hip "Keep Austin Weird" folks the area is so proud of fostering.

I think it's wonderful, but I don't give a rip about a green building after living in the 650 square feet they accorded us upon arrival. Finally, my first call was to a church that could barely support a pastor, not one that supports a pastor that can support the seminary. (That's what we all get for going where I was called.)

Looking at this blurb from The Outlook, I only believe my assessment of our newly minted outsider status is firm.

Honestly, when I was a student at APTS, the push was toward worship and preaching the Word of God with integrity and grace. In my opinion, a call to be "not boring" is pretty shallow.

Jim Jones wasn't boring, but I'm not selling or drinking that Kool-Aid. Joel Osteen sells out the Compaq Center and sells a billion books, but I'm taught to go for something deeper sharing the fullness of God's grace on God's people.

I guess I'm sad. I guess I'm disappointed. But I guess Thomas Wolfe is right, you can't go home again.

Adventures in Moving

That was once UHaul's slogan, "Adventures in Moving." Frankly, Marie and I have had more than one of their lovely adventures since we met. The "best" was having a water pump blow in the middle of Illinois on the first day of deer season. Getting help was as hard as getting a twelve-point buck.

So, Marie and I are getting ready to move. We're moving to Marshall, Texas as soon as Grace Presbytery, real estate hurdles, and UHaul can get us there. And we couldn't be happier. We also couldn't be more amazed.

Please prepare to nod your head as you read: You wouldn't believe all of the crap we've found! It has been a sheer multitude of stuff we didn't know we had, didn't know where it had gone, and wondered how we ever lived with it in the first place.

Honestly, it is our fault. We haven't had a real honest pitch-fest since we moved to Fayetteville, Arkansas about twelve years ago. At least it has been a windfall to some of the absolutely fabulous charities here in Berryville. As such, it has also been a windfall for the landfill, but after twelve years or so, a trip or two to the dump is not out of line.

So things are rolling here, we are blessed and happy, we are glad to be on our way to Marshall and God's people at First Presbyterian in Marshall. All we need now is a dolly and some Advil, but that's just another part of the "Adventure in Moving."

Carolyn Gaines

Miss Carolyn Gaines of Berryville, Arkansas died shortly after 3:00 pm on Thursday December 3, 2009. She was a child of God, a joy to be around, and an elder in the church. She will be missed.

I met Carolyn at First Presbyterian Church in Conway, Arkansas in June 2005. She came to the meeting of the Arkansas Presbytery where I was examined to become a Minister of Word and sacrament.

It was a wild day for me. Marie and I had just made it into town from central Missouri the day before. I was just getting done with my examination sermon and its bulletin for the meeting. I was so nervous since I was going to be asked questions by not only the committee, but by anyone else who had a question. I successfully navigated the storm, becoming one of the few (if not the only) candidates in the history of the Presbytery who made the assembly laugh during the exam.

Carolyn and her ride had to get going before the end of the meeting. Carolyn had tremendous circulatory problems, and the ride up and down from Berryville to Conway and back that day were causing havoc on her legs. Before they left, I got to say good bye. Carolyn hugged me and said, "I love you, darling." I said, "I love you too."

That was the moment I became a pastor.

Miss you Carolyn. God bless you as you sing and dance for our God.

9/11 + 8

Eight years ago today I was in "Introduction to the Old Testament" and "it" happened. What we never imagined could happen not only did, it was on TV for all to see.

I remember going into the Financial Aid office and thinking the radio sounded like "War of the Worlds" and I was wondering if I had missed the intro by Orson Wells and the Mercury Theater.

I remember going home and seeing Marie sitting on the edge of her seat. I remember me joining her.

Honestly, I guess that's all I have to say about that.

More Love Songs Without Love

This one was huge when I was in college. It is still popular on Adult Contemporary stations today. And I am so sorry...



What was weird was hearing my mother-in-law sing along to this on the radio. The Twilight Zone had nothing on that moment.

Rupert Holmes said that he wanted to imagine the meeting of two lovers who, while seeking someone new, find each other after placing personal ads. Yeah, that's love.

This is my favorite of the comments on this video from youtube:

and the bar fight that ensued after he called her a whore for taking out a personal ad for some side ***k...

To me, the only question is who takes the first swing, the "whore" who took out the first ad or the "side ***k" who answered it.

Another Bar Story...

Once upon a time... it was a slow, slow night at the bar. It was getting near closing time and there was one guy hitting on a woman who was a regular customer. She was not amused. She asked me if there was anything I could do to get him to stop.

Well, I was having a hard time coming up with anything that would end his amorous advances without the possibility of escalating into a physical confrontation. She was getting upset too. She would have just assumed the guy took a quick powder on the evening. That's when it came to me...

So she's sitting at the bar, she's frustrated, he's coming up along side her to work a little of his smooth magic, I think she's about to start crying.

I come around the end of the bar. I give her a big hug from behind and say, "We'll talk about it when we get home."

You should have seen the guy run. True story!