THE VIEW FROM MARS HILL

When the Apostle Paul stopped by Areopagus Coffee in Athens, he was favorably impressed. While the baristas there all sported the logo of Mars, Roman god of war, these people were at least spiritually aware. They had posters of all sorts of gods and goddesses. They even had one, picturing a tall red cup, reserved for “the unknown God.” They were celebrating, but not sure just why. And so Paul was able to tell them some very Good News. In their sad and generic, spiritually bankrupt and shades-of-gray world that lacked all sense of wonder, Paul let them know the single most wondrous truth in the entire universe. Some mocked; some believed; some said he should come back and tell them more about this God-Man they had unknowingly yet instinctively acknowledged. “The god of the red cup” became an opportunity to speak of the one true God loving us so much that He chose to dwell among us, seeking and saving those who are lost.

THE 2021 REAL MEN'S CHILI COOK-OFF

The 2021 Real Men's Chili Cook-off is Sunday, February 28, 6pm, in our fellowship hall. Have your entries available by 5:30pm, gentlemen. Competition is always fierce, so bring your best effort. The winner will take home the coveted Silver Spike "You Nailed It!" trophy along with bragging rights. 

Ladies, please bring fixings that go with chili--crackers, cheese, chips, and desserts.

SNOWY DAY SAMARITANS

Yesterday, 17 February 2021, a friend's vehicle was stuck in the snow three blocks from my house. (Such things rarely happen in Memphis!) As I was booking it through the snow to help, a guy passing by on Tutwiler stopped and gave me a ride. Five minutes after his call, my buddy was already getting help from a dude in a really big pickup. A second total stranger was standing nearby just in case he was needed. Today, I scooped the last bit of Lucy's dog food. Thinking the bucket underneath was more of the same, I discovered it was instead filled with hard winter wheat. Decided to hike to Big Lots (one mile away) to get more Alpo. On my way home, as the snow was steadily falling and with my backpack having gained 15 lbs. of dog chow, a man stopped to ask where I was headed. Pretty sure he thought I was a homeless guy out in the blizzard with no place to go. Or maybe he figured there had to be a Silver Alert out for me. Some might think my neighborhood is a little sketchy. Today, I would have to disagree.

FACEBOOK CHRISTMAS 2020

This year, Facebook chose to go fully literal on the opening two words of the carol Silent Night. There was nothing of the worldwide celebration worthy of mention. Hannukah got a half dozen backgrounds for posts featuring dreidels or menorahs, but nothing of Immanuel’s birth popped up behind the rainbow box that had, I assume, nothing to do with Noah and the flood. Oh, if you dug deep you could find some banners and such of generic quality. Like so many businesses today, the glory of this annual celebration has been just…absent.

And that is as it should be. It is not Mr. Zuckerberg’s job to tell the story. Perhaps we should be glad that the hypocrisy of clueless merchants pretending to participate in such a day with hopes of cashing in on it has pretty much ceased. December landscapes that were once awash with bright colors and words proclaiming hope, peace, and goodwill toward men are now painted over with Soviet gray nothingness. And it is left for us real believers to proclaim the message. My 12 Quotes of Christmas was an attempt to splash the good news of the incarnation across your Facebook pages. Hope it got you thinking about the Savior of the world’s first visit as the God-Man. Under the brilliant light of the star and amidst the shouts of angels, that Christ of Christmas was mistaken for just another Jewish infant. Three decades later, He would be mistaken for a troublemaker finally dispatched by a fittingly cruel death on a cross. And three days after that, the resurrected Jesus would be momentarily mistaken as a cemetery groundskeeper. The next time He comes, mark it well, there will be no mistaking who He is.

WHAT STANDS THE TEST OF TIME?

There is something startling and therapeutic and spiritually significant about closing the estate of someone who’s died. The deceased always manages to leave behind a bunch of stuff. Sometimes family members and others fight over who gets next dibs on the chore of dragging some item through life. Grandfather’s grandfather’s clock must be passed along. Or sold at auction. Often there’s a pile of money to sort out. A few times acting as executor, I’ve written checks in one sitting totally far more than my accumulated net worth. And then there’s the collection of odds and ends nobody wants. Photos of people no one can identify that were once precious to the departed one. A box filled with mementos of trips taken, diplomas earned, and awards won. Curios that caught the fancy of the one who wrote the will. Letters packed with memories and well wishes, capturing emotions that strangers cannot grasp. (I suppose there will be far fewer handwritten letters in future estates.) James 1:10 counsels the rich to boast in his humiliation. Like the flowering grass, he will pass away. James pushes us to set our hearts and minds and energies on that which stands the test of time.

WHERE EVERYBODY KNOWS YOUR NAME

 I never watched the old TV show Cheers, but I was always attracted to the theme song. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. As an 11-year-old kid, I worked at a grocery store next to Harmony Bar. The building was owned by my boss, so I ended up doing some chores on the property. My dad took me there once. I didn't witness a lot of harmony in the darkness of that sad room.

The pandemic has reminded me of the gift Open Door Bible Church is. We had to meet online for several weeks in the early spring of 2020. It was a novelty. Got to interact on Zoom with some past members and missionaries in distant places and see the faces of local people I was already missing. But it was clearly missing the dynamic of genuine, face-to-face fellowship. After 39 years, maybe I had begun to take the gift of our fellowship too much for granted. When Jimmy Leonard was alive, he called us "The Best Kept Secret in Memphis."

Our tagline, A Common People with an Uncommon Love,  has been illustrated in fresh ways over the past two weeks. Exhibit A was the Baby Dedication of Kesler Jones. And yesterday came Exhibit B, the 70th Wedding Anniversary Celebration of Frank and Virginia Buck. Kesler's legacy stretches my memory of God's goodness back nearly four decades. Kesler's great grandparents' surname became his given name a year ago. And a whole series of good memories are crowded into that moniker. The Bucks legacy merged into our own a good number of years ago. Our world largely ignores the treasure living among them. What could be learned from the stories of old people? Frank told me of visiting his elderly grandfather at Christmas back in the 1930s. I did the math and observed that his grandpa had been alive during the Civil War. Turns out, Gramps lied about his age and joined the Union Army! Frank himself, is a Navy veteran of World War 2 and the Korean War. The Bucks have lived faithfully and well, and we get to enjoy their godly joy on a regular basis. But they are also a treasure trove of eyewitness history. Ken Burns could learn at their feet.

I'm thankful for my salvation. And I am thankful for the community of fellow believers I'm blessed to be a part of.

Gary

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO 2020 VISION?

For all the hype back in January about it being a year for clarity and focus, 2020 has turned our best-laid plans into a blur of uncertainties and cancelations. From gathering with friends to our daily work, from finances to graduations, from health concerns to travel plans to sporting events to shortages of items we’ve always taken for granted, who among us has not encountered massive disruptions over the past five months? 

There’s a story in 2 Kings 6 that can guide our praying in the midst of the global pandemic. Things aren’t going too well for Ben Hadad II, King of Syria. Israel is no match for his massive armies. Still, somehow, they keep getting the upper hand, anticipating his every move, predicting his troop movements, second-guessing his attack plans. He suspects a traitor in his camp, but a servant tells the king of a prophet named Elisha who is informing the Hebrews of “the words that you speak in your bedroom.” Comically, Ben Hadad sends a huge army with soldiers and horses and chariots to capture the man. They invade at night, lest this little bald-headed prophet should somehow prevail. When Elisha’s young servant goes out early the next morning to collect the Dothan Daily News from the end of the driveway, he is terrified to see a multitude of armed soldiers surrounding the city. The servant cries out to Elisha that the two of them are seriously outnumbered, but the old man responds: “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” The servant must have thought poor Elisha’s eyes were going out on him and his mind was not far behind. The prophet prays that the Lord would “open his eyes that he may see.” And in that moment the younger man catches a glimpse of things normally unseen by earthly eyes. Beyond the Syrian army, the mountain is filled with multiplied angelic forces and chariots of fire.

There are moments when God pulls back the curtain to bring perspective and hope and confidence. Let’s pray that God will allow us to see something of the greater picture. He works in ways we miss unless our spiritual eyes are opened to see beyond the pandemic. 

Gary

Lessons From Wuhan: Recalculating As We Emerge From Coronaville

There’s nothing so disconcerting as driving down the highway listening to a favorite song, only to have the Siri lady w/ the uppity-sounding British accent disrupt with: RECALCULATING! What she REALLY means is: “You are an idiot! You weren’t paying attention, & now you’ve gone off on a wrong path.” I have been thinking a lot this past week about the idea that our God often uses disruption to get our attention. When we are going off track (or perhaps we’re just stuck & not going anyplace in particular), our disrupting God awakens us, challenges us, jolts us out of our lethargy with a cosmic dope slap, sometimes of epic proportion. COVID-19 has upset our collective apple cart beyond anything we could have ever foreseen. What lessons will you take with you as we finally see Coronaville disappear in the rearview mirror? Time to recalculate the direction you are heading. We’ll talk about it more when we are back in the Book of James on Sunday morning.

Lessons from Wuhan -- Remember That Easter We All Met Online? -- April 12, 2020

One night as Easter approached during my senior year at Mizzou, Sam stormed into my room and got right in my face. He was a Jewish kid who was pretty tired of hearing about Jesus from the growing number of guys on our floor who had come to faith. Some of them had “One Way” posters on their walls with an index finger pointing up. Not Sam. He had a poster that read: “No Way” …with a different finger displayed. So there we stood, nose to nose. No social distancing. And he angrily asked, “Do you believe the Jews killed Christ?” He and his family had been branded Christ-killers more than a few times. Ever have that assurance that the Holy Spirit was whispering in your ear? I quietly responded: “Yes, Sam. The Jews back then killed Jesus. And the Romans killed Jesus. And, if I had been there, Sam, I would have killed Jesus, too.” His accusing finger was still in the air, ready to poke me in the chest. But he was disarmed. He murmured: “That’s a good answer.” And then he walked out of my room.

John Stott put it this way: “Before we can begin to see the cross as something done for us, we have to see it as something done by us.” The sacred symbol of our faith is the cross, an instrument of torture and death. That would be quite unexpected except that we’ve had a few thousand years to process the irony of it becoming our reminder of deliverance from sin and the joy of sins forgiven and the only path to life everlasting. Let us remember, as we celebrate so uncharacteristically this Easter, that our sins made it necessary for Jesus to become our Perfect Sacrifice. Some of our cherished traditions will have to be put aside this year. Instead of the new life sprouting across our city, we are assaulted with daily box scores of deaths in various parts of our planet. Such things need to push us closer to the foot of the cross, forcing us to look beyond the trappings of the season to the heart of it—Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection. Newness of life purchased by His blood.

Lessons from Wuhan -- Triumphal? -- April 5, 2020

 We are going to be looking at The Triumphal Entry in John 12 when we gather on Zoom this Sunday. Traditions of this season will be set aside this time as we “shelter in place.” Seemed a good idea to depart from the Epistle of James for a few weeks in order to focus on why we celebrate Palm Sunday and Easter. I took some time yesterday to explain the meaning of Palm Sunday to a friend from another country. Can you imagine waking up in Tunisia during Ramadan later this month and trying to figure out what everyone was doing? And not doing? And why? A number of years ago, I got stranded in a Tokyo airport for what I thought would be a brief layover. All flights out were full, and I was doing standby. Turns out, it was a big three-day weekend there. Evidently, Japanese people like to go to Bangkok at such times. I still have no idea what the holiday was even called.

No time of year should provide more reasons for hope and joy and peace of mind during these days of forced seclusion than Holy Week. I found it impossible to explain THIS Sunday to my friend without also explaining NEXT Sunday. He’s heard it from me before, but he appreciated getting the historical context and insight into a culture not easily understood. Let’s draw near during the coming week, worshipping our risen Lord in a fresh, simple way. And let’s tell somebody about it.

Gary

Lessons From Wuhan -- Not A Building! -- March 28, 2020

It’s been often pointed out that the church is not a building--WE are the church. The sanctuary is not that big room with pews—We are God’s sanctuary. He dwells in us. Even so, I missed being in the church building last Sunday, and I missed being with all of you in the…auditorium. Sitting at home just didn’t seem right. I wanted to wish Shirley James a happy birthday in person! Something special happens when the people of God gather to worship. I found myself missing those minutes before most people arrive when doors are unlocked and coffee is brewing and pastries are put out and bread is bagged up for distribution. The early crew has a good time as they put things into place for what will follow. The Bible Study Hour’s conversations and sharing of prayer requests and diving into the Scriptures builds us up spiritually and allows us to share our lives together. And then the worship service begins. There’s a routine to it all, but no two weeks are the same.

Take away all of that for a number of weeks, and we are forced to discover ways to connect and encourage and learn together. This week we will be using Zoom technology to live stream. Your patience with this rookie will be greatly appreciated. I hope you will find ways throughout this coming week to deliver a word of hope and care to someone in the church family. It might be a phone call or a note or a meal or something else. And if the rest of us can meet a need for you, please let us know! By the time we get good at this new normal, it will be over. Hopefully, we will have grown in our love for the Lord and for one another in the process. And the next time we gather will be a time of great celebration.

Lessons From Wuhan -- Embrace the Challenge -- March 22, 2020

 Last Sunday, we were reminded in James 4:13-17 [ http://odbcmemphis.com/podcast/ ] that our best plans are uncertain, life is fragile…and short, and that our God is very much in control. Open Door’s Board of Elders met Monday evening and made the decision to suspend all classes and services for the week. Not meeting together this Sunday (March 22) was a tough decision, but we agreed it was the right and responsible thing to do. Some (though I should say no one from our congregation has suggested this) question the faith of those who would “cancel church.” I would simply point out that we will only be calling off church services. The church, Open Door Bible Church, is not a building. Nor are we a bunch of services. We are “the church.” The challenge in these days of “social distancing” becomes how we can continue on as the family of faith God has called us to be. I’ve been thinking of this scheduling upheaval as God’s gift—a sort of Sabbath rest. Busyness is often the enemy of holiness. The tyranny of the urgent pulls us away from His presence. Routine causes us to miss opportunities to meet specific needs as we “pass by on the other side” the way nice people avoided the injured man on the road in the Good Samaritan story. What Lessons from Wuhan remain for us to learn? What “first things,” important stuff, have we been missing in the rush of life? Perhaps it is as simple as “self-quarantining” to get time alone with the Lord. Maybe we will capture (or recapture spiritual truths that have eluded us in the crush of living life.

Yesterday I received an email from Brittany. She attended Open Door for a couple of months back in 2018. Her boyfriend, Connor, came a few times when he was in town. Then he left for Marine officer training school, and Brittany moved back to Colorado. I told them about a church near Ft. Collins. And, as happens sometimes, I was left to wonder what God had in mind in that brief turn of events. We observe life as a passing parade. God’s view is more like that a person atop a skyscraper, seeing the beginning and the end all at once. He was doing so much more than any of us imagined. It would be silly to try to take credit for any of it. But it reminds me that God has a plan in all of the craziness of these CoronaVirus days. Brittany gave permission to share the story, so here it is:

Pastor Starbuck, 

I am not sure if you remember me, my name is Brittany. I came to Open Door for a few months of 2018. My boyfriend, Connor, came with me a time or two. That year he was in training to be a USMC Officer. 

I write today to say THANK YOU. I grew up in a Bible church and accepted Christ as my Savior when I was 6 years old. Though I still had faith in high school, I began to stray. During my 20s, I completely stepped away from my relationship with God and from a church family. I was questioning many things. I wasn't sure what I believed or what was true. Your church was the first church that I attended that started to bring me home. I hadn't consistently gone to church in about ten years. Connor and I started dating before I came back to God. One thing you didn't know was that Connor was an atheist at the time we started dating and the time that he was attending Open Door. Surprisingly, he was the one who encouraged me to seek out a church family. He said he saw that it was something important to me. In the background, God was drawing him to Himself as well. Your church was the start of God moving in our lives in big ways. Open Door welcomed us both with open arms, your sermons are enlightening and true food for the spirit, the worship is genuine (no strobe lights and overdone theatrics), and the church's doctrine and values hold true to Biblical standards. It was exactly what I needed to press me to step back into a relationship with God. 

Before I moved back to Colorado, Connor tried out Loveland Bible Church, one of your recommendations. He was "just doing it for me," but I could tell God was slowly pulling on his heart. He called me after church, excited. He IMMEDIATELY knew that was where we were supposed to be. He met a former Marine there (who is also an elder of the church) and had some other conversations and meetings that day that I now know God intended him to have. He texted me this later, "I have to admit that the connections were not just random...My belief is still the same (him speaking of not believing in God), but if I'm being honest I have been thinking about the sheer chance of all of these things coming together in that one little room the way they did, all day. And I felt good there, I was happy. Just the way I felt at Open Door." That began the journey of us going to Loveland Bible Church, a journey that God has blessed. It took many months, but Connor came to know God and has come to see and know Jesus Christ as his Savior. He is a man ON FIRE for God. It is such an incredible thing for me to witness. He truly feels God's call to him is to make a difference and be a witness in the lives of the young enlisted Marines that so very much so need God and godly counsel. We are also now married. :) We were in CO together until last fall. I am still in Colorado and Connor is on temporary training duty in Virginia. We are hoping that I will be able to move to be with him soon. Between the Marine Corps and the unfortunate times our nation is seeing with COVID-19, we don't know when that will be. However, I continually ask God to guide us and to help us bear the burden of our separation. He has been so good to us, and I know He will continue to keep us in His loving arms. 

I wanted to share all this with so that you would know what a difference you and the congregation at Open Door made. You were/are a true light for Christ. His love, His radiance, and His truth show through you and others at that church. It drew me back to God and started Connor down his path to salvation. I would be happy for you to share this with any others that remember us. Thank you so much for all you do. 

Love in Christ, 

Brittany

Seeing As God Sees

Reminded this past weekend, once again, of what the family of God looks like. Edwina has been a part of Open Door for a lot of years. In the past four months, she and her husband Lester joined the church, Lester was baptized, and he shipped off to Army boot camp--leaving Memphis right after the burial of his father. As Edwina traveled to Ft. Leonard Wood, MO, to bring him home for Christmas, she received word that her father had died. Last Friday, Lester successfully completed Basic Training. That night, Edwina stopped by our Couples Fellowship. She was on her way to Regional One to deliver Lester IV. In each of these events, people from Open Door were deeply involved. Sacrificially giving of their time and resources to meet needs. I am thankful for our family of faith!

BROADENING HORIZONS

Wedding receptions are a curious thing. They are attempts to bring together in celebration those people who are near and dear to the bride and groom. It can seem a curious mix. Some attendees only know either the bride or the groom, so we separate them in the chapel with his friends on one side and hers on the other. As if it were the marriage of Mr. Hatfield to Miss McCoy. The reception can offer glimpses into what the new family recently minted during the ceremony might look like. Had a similar experience recently in Orlando. Two great loves of my life involve the ministry of Open Door Bible Church and that of a mission organization called Pioneers. I had the privilege of inviting friends from the church I’ve pastored for 38 years to meet friends of the mission organization that I’ve been a part of for 33 years (if I can include the 23 years on the boards of Arab World Ministries before the merger). No question that the one group would bond with the other in mutual admiration and commitment to the same goals. Pioneers captures their passion in the tagline: “The relentless pursuit of the unreached.” Open Door has always had that same heart for the world. And it was a powerful couple of days! New friendships formed. New opportunities to explore working together for kingdom glory. I’m excited to see what the Lord has in store in the coming days.

The Resurrection Direction in Life

On this Good Friday, I am thankful that the Lord Jesus Christ presented Himself as the ultimate Passover Lamb who would die for my sins and be raised from the dead. This year Good Friday coincides with another legacy that has benefited my life immeasurably. On April 19, 1995, the Murrah Buiding in Oklahoma City was destroyed, taking with it the lives of two people I did not have the privilege of knowing. Still, they enrich my life even today. Dr. Charles Hurlburt and his wife Jean stopped in that day to deal with some Social Security business. Their grandson, Robert Palmer, would marry my daughter, Beth, a dozen years later. The Hurlburts left behind a rich heritage. They built into the lives of their family and of people around the world. As we celebrate the resurrection, may we strive to live as they did--with eternity in view.

https://oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org/people/dr-charles-erwin-hurlburt/?fbclid=IwAR3Sp8E6guJyxENeU8SDMD-3njixIUyBTLfZvMbx8XSg0NWeOKnH5C6okw8

Generational Blessing

There are moments when God draws back the curtain of day-to-day life and allows us to see the bigger picture of what He's about. Sunday morning, August 19, was just that. As Ethan and I headed toward the baptistry and we had a few minutes to talk, he smiled. "My dad says you baptized him, too." We stood together as the seven year old gave a clear testimony of his faith in Christ, now a little over a month old. Later in the service, I was holding Ethan's baby sister as Shane and Ruth dedicated her to the Lord. Ethan, Norah, and Esther come from sturdy stock. Lots of godly folks from both sides of the family going back for generations--my own life has been blessed by four! Ethan, Norah, and Esther have footprints, deep and distinct, to follow.

The Malibu and the Motorcycle

While a freshman at the University of Missouri, I was always flat broke.  When my friends in the dorm ordered out for pizza, I regularly pretended to be “not hungry.”  They would end up getting me to eat a slice or two “just to be sociable,” then playfully accuse me of gaming them out of paying for my share.

It soon became apparent that I could not afford to care for and feed my 1964 Chevelle, first car I ever owned.  Five hundred hard-earned dollars on wheels.  Nicknamed “The Magnet,” it managed to get hit seven times in six months—never while I was in it.  As a high school senior, my pride and joy was stolen one day in March 1971.  Appropriately enough, it was recovered and hauled to the impound lot on April Fool’s Day, three weeks after its disappearance.  The thieves wrecked and abandoned her in the middle of an intersection, those boys fleeing the scene while my front bumper waved goodbye.  As a final insult, I had to scrape money together to redeem it from the city.  Hammers, Bondo, and spray paint made it the source of cruel humor.  But it ran.  Sort of.

Sometime early in my first semester, between gallons of gas, cases of oil, exorbitant insurance, and multiple repairs, I knew it was time to say goodbye.  When I told my grandparents, they suggested my dad needed a vehicle.  He was back “on the wagon,” and he had a job lined up.  I would have given it to him.  In 18 years, I had never had the opportunity to give him anything, but they insisted on paying me $600 for it.  And it seemed right and good that the old vehicle would stay in the family.  A curious link to a man I barely knew.  We were all painfully aware by now that jobs and sobriety never lasted long, though we would not say so out loud.  Maybe this time would be different.

And so I did my 125-mile trips between Kansas City and Columbia for the rest of the year using the campus rideshare bulletin board or hitchhiking.  My handcrafted “Home and Mom!” sign proved to be an effective, tug-at-the-heartstrings-of-passing-motorists ticket for free trips down I-70.  But I would need transportation for work in the summer.  That’s when inspiration struck.  I would buy a motorcycle!  Mom was not pleased with the idea.  The grandparents were horrified.  And so they approached me with an offer.  Dad had been living down in Louisiana somewhere.  The Malibu had been his mobile home.  But he was back, and the car was only slightly worse for wear.  He wasn’t using it.  It was out of place in their suburban neighborhood.  They gifted it back to me on the condition that I promise to give up my dream of a motorcycle.  To this day, I have never owned one.

And the connection to my Dad grew a bit stronger.  There was an old single-burner Coleman stove in the trunk and a sleeping bag that had outlived its usefulness and a few other vestiges of his last big adventure.  I proudly drove that prodigal vehicle until it would barely go, dating the young and beautiful Peggy McGovney in it.  We still joke that she only married me for my car.  Sold it for $500.  A good investment.  Many times over.  As my senior year at Mizzou began, Dad passed away.  Of all the vehicles I have owned, the midnight blue Chevy Malibu (my first, Dad’s last) remains my favorite.

Lessons from Charlottesville

When 9/11 happened, I wished more peaceable Muslims had stated clearly that the actions were evil. Seems obvious enough to me that white separatists are evil. If my stance on this is news to anyone, they really don't know me. But it needs to be said. White supremacy, indeed! Such people reject the idea that every human bears the divine image. They pretend they are better than others. God is moving His plan toward a grand crescendo of praise when people from every tribe, tongue, and nation will gather to praise the Lamb who was slain for all people. Those who insist themselves to be even somewhat good--never mind "supreme"--by virtue of their pigmentation (or anything else) will not be a part of that celebration. Is there guilt enough to go around? Are there planks in the eyes of those who only care to see the unrighteousness of others? Hating haters is problematic for those who adhere to grace. The BLM website will demonstrate they are no friend to biblical truth. Lawlessness and violence in the name of self-righteousness will not produce lasting fruit worth having. God resists the proud. He gives grace to the humble. Claiming moral superiority is sheer folly, turning me into my own brand of "holier than thou" counter protestor.

LEW

The unlikeliest of friends, we met along a property line I was never allowed to cross. Eventually our talks occurred through an eight-foot chain link fence topped with swirls of concertina wire. He was born in the shadow of Monteagle,    TN; I’m a city boy. He was former military; I never made it past Tenderfoot in Boy Scouts. He sported a big, bushy beard; I struggle to do respectable sideburns. Lew shared photos of his show dogs, spoke of his service in Vietnam, kept me up to date on his progress rebuilding an old pickup truck. Sometimes, we spoke of eternal things. We were often interrupted when I headed off to talk with people approaching the abortion clinic where he worked security. In the earlier days, he was married to the clinic director. Even after their divorce, he continued to protect the place from crazy prolifers. Like me.

These sidewalk conversations spanned 25 years. Our ministry was committed to the proposition that the workers at the abortion clinic were not the enemy. Everybody bears the divine image; everyone needs Jesus. And deserves respect.

Eventually, the clinic was taken over by others. Lew was fired. He stopped one day in that pickup and joked he might come over to our side of the fence and help out. Sounded good to me! The clinic closed after a time, and that sad old house at Bellevue and Monroe was demolished. And then my phone rang. It was Lew. I had given him my card years earlier and suggested he call if he ever wanted to talk.

To this day, he’s the only person ever to vape in my office. More expletives flew through the room during his visits than you will hear on Nixon’s Watergate tapes. But we talked about life. About important things. He welcomed my offers to pray for and with him. Lew showed up for church once on Easter. And more than a few times for our community cookouts. Yesterday, I received a call from his ex-wife Jo Ann. He was failing quickly, succumbing to a fast-moving pancreatic cancer. She was providing him care. William Green and I visited Lew yesterday afternoon. William spoke of his own journey to faith in Christ and made sure Lew understood the need for trusting Jesus as Savior. This morning, Jo Ann called to tell me he had passed away in his sleep.  I am confident we will see each other again.

A Bundle of Answered Prayers

Sometimes God allows us to see very direct and wonderful answers to prayer. Sometimes we get to hold them. Two decades of a whole range of prayers—for a nine-year-old kid to come to Christ, to grow in faith, to choose the right college, to make great friends there, to marry the very best of the bunch, to be a loving husband, to survive cancer, to be a godly dad (I could go on, but you get the idea)—came to Memphis this weekend. What an honor to dedicate little Rebekah Joy yesterday morning! Thankful for Seth and Ashley…and Rebekah.