“The Curvy and Narrow Path”

Road Sign Wisdom

As a toddler, I had no idea a road sign could communicate so much wisdom.

Since birth I’ve loved signs. Seatbelt standards were different when I was two or three years old, so on car trips I stood in the front seat between my parents. Mom and Dad couldn’t coax me to sit, much less fall sleep against my mother. I needed to stand to see the signs.

Especially the “snake” sign.

Growing up on the coast, I only saw the yellow sign with black double curves when we visited grandparents in the mountains. While my older brother slept in the back seat, I bounced and pointed and jabbered at the snake signs marking our way.

Today an 8-inch by 8-inch replica of this sign hangs on the wall by my computer. The image of black double curves pointing upward proclaims a powerful message.

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Three Points But No Poem

1.  The arrow at the top points to heaven, a reminder to keep my eyes on God.

“I lift up my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1-2, NIV).

2. The double curves mean the road through God’s kingdom on earth isn’t easy. The world’s default option is to take the path of least resistance, not the path of greatest reward.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” (Matthew 7:13-14, NIV).

3.  Life normally follows a snake-shaped path instead of a straight line. Surprising twists and turns take us places we don’t want to go or never dreamed we’d go.

Sometimes God orchestrates a sideways curve in our life. The Lord uses a detour to prepare us for a new opportunity we’ll encounter later. God takes us into the wilderness to work in us so we’ll be ready when the time comes.

Sometimes we veer off the straight path due to bad choices. For example, we may continue to ignore a nagging pain because we think we’re too busy to stop and deal with it. However, an emergency surgery could sideline us far longer than if we’d sought medical attention when the treatment would've been less invasive and much cheaper.

Sometimes we knock ourselves off course through sin. We deliberately disobey God’s holy standards and are sent into a spiritual “time out.” God may deal with our rebellion by marching us off to the side for a season to work on us.

No matter how often or how far we might stray off course, God is always ready, willing, and able to steer us in the right direction: the direction of right. When we humbly repent, God will set our feet on the paths of righteousness (Psalm 23:3) again. Our journey will continue forward in Christ. 

Other Lessons?

With Good Friday and Easter less than a month away, now is a good time to evaluate the path we’re on. Are we headed the right way? Do we need God's help to make a course correction?

I wonder what other lessons this sign might teach us. What else comes to mind? 

David

“Does Transparency Cure Loneliness For Ministers?”

Pastor Jim Putman's Conclusion

I agree with several things Jim Putman said in “RE: Missioning Your Leadership.” But his conclusion visibly upset me. See the four-minute clip at http://vimeo.com/75515117.

Jim Putman was one of four founding families and is now senior pastor of Real Life Ministries in Post Falls, Idaho. Today he oversees 7,000+ in worship. About 90% of his church is in a small group.

Putman hardwired accountability into this church’s DNA. He didn’t climb up Niagara Falls to introduce transparency to a long-established church.

Jim Putman seems to suggest the loneliness I felt in 17 years of ministry was all my fault. His conclusion: if I’d regularly confessed my struggles, church members would have rallied around me and ended my isolation.

Really?

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It's Not That Simple

I agree with Putman that leaders need accountability. Pastors need a safe place to confess sins like everyone else. But I strongly disagree that the reluctance to admit one's weaknesses is the (one and only) reason why loneliness is a big problem among clergy. 

In one church, I was in an Emmaus reunion group that included some of my parishioners. I shared a few sensitive struggles with them that I didn't tell anyone else besides my wife. But as great a support as those brothers in Christ were, that didn't cure my loneliness as a pastor.

In each church I tended to let my guard down with a few key church leaders. Those men and women were always supportive. Yet their care and concern didn't cure my loneliness.

I inferred from Putman's conclusion that the remedy for loneliness among ministers is transparency. But it’s not that simple.

How I Was Trained

It was drilled in my head to avoid the appearance of favoritism. At dinners and programs, others could sit with the same group if they wished, but I felt compelled to sit with somebody different each week. Yet trust is only built through repeated contact with the same people. It's a catch-22. 

Seminars and books instruct ministers to set proper boundaries. This professional approach leads to many acquaintances, but few close friends.

When members invited me to a ballgame, I was still in the role of pastor. Favoritism, boundaries, and confidentiality remained in the mix. What about friendships outside my congregation? If they had a church, I wasn’t their minister, but they still saw me as one. The friendship playing field was never level.

With pastor friends, busy schedules hinder frequent socialization. When a certain trust level is finally reached, either you or your nearby preacher friend could move. Long distance just isn’t the same as face time.

Besides family, who’s left?

Pastors can get fired if they breach confidentiality. But if a congregant reveals personal information about the minister, will their membership be terminated? No. If my job is on the line, I’m not exposing my true self to just anybody. Preachers must be extra careful who they tell if they're fighting a losing battle with depression, alcohol, pornography, anger, or marital strife.

Awareness of this practical reality tempered the extent of my candor more than once. I never wanted to have I Timothy 3:5 thrown in my face. “If anyone does not know how to manage his own family [including himself], how can he take care of God’s church?” (NIV). 

Preachers are often lonely. But don’t blame it all on their reluctance to take a one-sided risk. Too many other factors are involved.

That's my conclusion. What do you think?

David

“The Memory of the Righteous”

The Century Mark

A 100th birthday is a rare blessing. I've been to several 90th birthday parties, but recently I attended my first party for a centenarian. Generations of family and scores of friends gathered to eat cake decorated with three numbers.

Living a century is a wonderful feat. To turn 100 with one’s mind intact and one’s body able to sit and greet well-wishers for two hours in a fellowship hall is an added bonus.

It's enough to offset the downside of living so long. I saw a cartoon where an old woman lamented her long life. “All my friends in heaven probably think I didn’t make it.”

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Sunday afternoon I was invited back to the last church I served as a pastor. Kitty Knittel, a beloved member, celebrated her 100^th birthday. Every time five friends left the drop-in, ten more arrived to take their place.

Mrs. Knittel is the epitome of grace. When it was my turn to shake Kitty's hand, I told her, “When I think of the word lady, I think of you.”

Proverbs 10:7 says (NRSV), “The memory of the righteous is a blessing, but the name of the wicked will rot.”

One guest at the party is 97 and another turns 97 next month. A third is almost 95. Several other friends are in their upper 80s or early 90s.

Collectively, the 12 oldest souls there represented over 1,000 years of faithful living for the Lord. What a witness.  

I saw firsthand that the memory of the righteous is a blessing. This holds true during life as well as after death. God’s favor let Mrs. Knittel experience the earthly reward of a life lived well for Christ.

In addition, my father Bill and my daughter Molly Kate both have birthdays this week. No matter which generation we belong to, the memory of the righteous is a blessing. Regardless of the numbers on our birthday cake, we are blessed to be a blessing.

Another Gift

In defeat, Desert Chapel High School in California blessed Beau Howell of Trinity Classical Academy. Trinity won the basketball championship 77-52. Surprisingly, the most dramatic part of that 25-point win happened in the last minute.

Beau Howell is autistic. In the previous games he played for Trinity Classical, he never scored. With his team leading 75-52 with a minute to go, Beau entered the game. Howell’s teammates threw him the ball twice, but he missed both shots. Desert Chapel rebounded with 30 seconds left and called time out.

Their coach had an idea.

Desert Chapel inbounded the ball and immediately passed it to Beau. Howell missed his shot. Desert Chapel rebounded and handed the ball back, but Beau missed again. Desert Chapel rebounded again and guided Howell closer to the basket. With time running out, Beau’s fifth shot went in.

The fans applauded for Beau Howell’s achievement, for Trinity Classical’s win, and for Desert Chapel’s display of true sportsmanship in the face of defeat.

Interestingly, D.C.'s mascot is an eagle. The Desert Chapel Eagles helped a young man with autism to soar. May their righteous act long be remembered.

David

“Why I Need Ash Wednesday”

Crossing the Line

It happened when I was seven.

My brother and I were riding bikes when he tired of me tagging along. At ten, Brian was allowed to do something I wasn’t: cross Harbor View Road. I could ride anywhere in my neighborhood, but not across that busy two-lane road.

Brian pedaled into the next subdivision to be alone for awhile. Unwilling to accommodate, I crossed the boundary set by my parents. I stubbornly followed my brother across Harbor View Road.

Immediately he turned around, so I also made a U-turn. I was so focused on keeping up with him that I broke the cardinal rule of crossing a road. I neglected to look both ways before crossing Harbor View.