Tag: columns

I wish I had a real concise way to tell you everything that I’ve witnessed in the last few weeks, but I’m pretty sure the best way to explain it all is, “May His wonders never cease.”
I’ve often heard, that illness, pain and sickness all stems from a lack of faith.
Bull.
Someone please show me an example in scripture where a person was sick or in pain because they had a lack of faith.
I’m going to step on some toes here, but the entire “Health and Wealth Doctrine” makes me sick. Try preaching the health and wealth doctrine to believers in Tsunami stricken Asia or AIDS stricken Africa.
Try and preach that if they just believe in God, He will take away their sickness and give them a Cadillac in their garage.
Now I’m not going to doubt that people were and are healed because they had great faith — but don’t try to tell me that a person is lying in a hospital bed because they don’t have any faith.
I thought a lot about this as I received updates on one of my sisters, who was lying in a hospital bed in Dallas over the last few weeks, after suffering from several migraines and eventually a seizure.
I thought about it as I heard an update on a friend, 36 years old, who is lying in a nursing home, virtually unconscious, after several strokes.
I thought about it as I read more updates on the tragic sickness and poverty that plagues Africa and Asia.
The thoughts were even stronger as I sat in my sister’s hospital room, watching and praying, as she asked for my family members to read scripture to comfort her.
And believe me, I prayed for her miraculous recovery. I prayed that she would walk out of the hospital that very day – but God had other plans.
If I were to believe that her illness was a result of her lack of faith, I would have no choice but to curse God right now because she wasn’t able to miraculously walk out of a hospital room.
Why would God ignore her and her lifelong faith in Him as the great physician, comforter and provider?
Instead of cursing the God of Isaac, Jacob and Abraham, I know that God’s ways are unknowable and His healing power is not dependent upon my faith or Amy’s faith.
Thank goodness — because in the midst of it all, while Amy might remain strong, my faith will waiver.
My feet have a tendency to slip from the rock of my salvation, but His hand is always there, reaching out to me and pulling me back to Him.
And while Amy didn’t get up and walk out of the hospital because someone prayed the “magic words” or had “unbelievable faith,” His wonders never cease.
Knowing me, if Amy had sat up and walked out of the hospital that day, I might have gotten a big head and thought it was my faith or my prayer that healed her, rather than looking to Jehovah-Rophe (the Lord who heals).
Amy’s condition was eventually diagnosed by one of the nation’s top neuro-specialists, hours before she was scheduled to check out.
If she had walked out of the hospital Saturday afternoon, we would still be questioning the cause of her migraines and her seizure.
But because His wonders never cease, Amy has been put to the front of the line for follow-ups and appointments with a doctor whose group sees over 30,000 patients and who flew from Atlanta to Dallas to visit with Amy and look over her tests. His wonders never cease.
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This past weekend I saw His wonders continue to amaze me. But neither time nor space will allow to describe all the wonders I saw.
I had the privilege to sit as a fly on a wall in a van with four wrestlers last weekend on a road trip to Knoxville, Tenn.
On a trip that lasted slightly more than 40 hours, five guys in a van grew closer than ever to each other as well as closer than ever to an amazing, wondrous God.
The five of us traveled to Knoxville, Tenn., where we joined 26,000 students to get our praise on.
We left Rockwall at 8 p.m. Thursday night, arrived in Knoxville at 10 a.m. EST, Friday and pulled out of Knoxville around midnight Friday night amazed and stunned at all we had seen.
We had sat for several hours with one of the greats in the wrestling business, Shawn Michaels — and rather than talking about wrestling, we sat and talked about God.
We met one of the most genuine and humble players in the National Football League, Justin Griffith.
We had seen God worshiped far out of the box we try and put Him in week to week.
We got our worship on with Israel Houghton in a way that made Sunday morning seem like decaf compared to a triple espresso.
We saw hundreds, if not several thousands stand and walk to the front of an arena for an alter call.
We felt an even stronger renewal of the CWF and its ministry.
We saw God’s wonders at work 24-7. He is truly worthy of all praise.
I don’t know where God will lead me tomorrow or next week, but I continue to pray each day, “May Your wonders never cease.”

I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately to life, the meaning of life and my ultimate purpose. Sounds pretty deep, I know. Now if only I was a deep thinker, I might be able to figure this all out.
I began wondering this week how much impact I have on the world around me and how much impact the world has on me. Am I impacting my world in a good positive way, or is the world impacting me in its own way?
This feels like another quarter-life crises (just like last year), I hope I don’t go through this every year around my birthday.
Sunday our class talked about sin and its impact on the Israelites and Hosea.
And of course it’s easy to talk about how things “used to be.” And we had numerous rabbit trails we chased, talking about the good ole’ times.
Everyone remembers the good things that happened in the past and how kids used to respect their elders and T.V. was good and wholesome.
Everyone remembers when Ricky and Lucy slept in separate beds on T.V., and I think everyone has their own idea of where they’ve placed blame for the destruction of society as we know it.
I told the class, as I sat their teaching with a polo shirt and jeans on, how growing up I was never allowed to wear jeans or shorts to church. Jeans could only be considered for the evening service (something that has become almost as rare as unanimous vote on the Belton City Council).
And now I go home for the weekend and see that my dad rarely wears his suit to Sunday morning services.
I have to question, where did the change come about and was it for the better or for the worse?
Did my family and our churches loose respect for God, or did we come to a greater understanding — that God accepts us for who we are and we don’t have to impress him with a suit and tie? Or maybe, we are trying to impress those outside the church with our blue jean services and rock and roll worship circus.
As my class talked, we agreed that many things that were taboo when our parents grew up are now common place for us.
Even things that were taboo for me 20 years ago, I have come to accept and often embraced.
I have to wonder what I will come to accept and embrace 20 years from now.
What will my children think when they read and hear stories about my growing up? Will I be an ultra-conservative to them? Will my morals be obsolete?
I read a great book Monday night, based on the brother of a close friend who has cerebral palsy. In the book, he dreams he meets Jesus and walks him through the history of mankind, all the way up to the point of Christ dying on the cross.
It struck me as I read it, that the Israelites continued to let more and more slide as they got further and further away from the Garden of Eden. And every time God would reveal Himself and show His power, they would remember for a short while, before going back to their old ways. How long will it be before we too loose sight of God completely?

Sunday morning I got punk’d by several of my friends.
No, I don’t quite mean Punk’d like MTV’s hit prank television series, but it might have felt just as bad.
As I entered the sanctuary I headed towards the back where my friends typically like to sit.
For whatever reason they had not made it into the sanctuary yet and so I chose an empty row a few rows from the very back.
After 10 minutes or so, I heard my friends laughing and talking as they walked in, only to be surprised that they sat down in the row behind me.
“That’s odd.” I thought to myself, pretending I didn’t notice them.
Shortly thereafter they realized their mistake and began to laugh at the situation without really acknowledging I was even in the room.
Finally after my pastor came by, shook our hands and questioned our strange seating arrangement did we really acknowledge what had taken place.
Yet oddly enough, my friends chose to leave me on the pew, directly in front of them, all alone.
And despite my tough macho front, it stung abit.
No one likes to be left alone and no one likes to be left out.
The situation made me feel worse for a young boy I saw at lunch later who was forced to sit at a table all alone because he was the odd man out in his group of friends.
But despite the temporary humiliation of being punk’d by my friends and the minor sting of sitting alone during the morning service, I had a moment of epiphany during the worship.
As we sang the final song, the words of the song hit me like a lightening bolt.
We sang about Jesus being our everything, and it hit me — “That’s not true — is it?”
Only 15 minutes earlier I had felt alone and neglected because a few friends decided not to sit by me.
That doesn’t sound like someone who believes Jesus is my everything.
That doesn’t sound like someone who believes Jesus is even 50-percent of everything.
It sounds more like someone who finds completeness and happiness in the approval of others.
Needless to say, I had to stop singing.
How could I honestly sing words I had trouble living?
I have a feeling that God felt a sting about as bad as I did Sunday morning.
The Prophet Isaiah wrote, “The Master said: ‘These people make a big show of saying the right thing, but their hearts aren’t in it. Because they act like they’re worshiping me but don’t mean it.'”
The Prophet Samuel told King Saul, “Do you think all God wants are sacrifices– empty rituals just for show? He wants you to listen to him! Plain listening is the thing not staging a lavish religious production.”
I believe we’ve become too concerned about looking good and finding approval from sinful man, rather than worshiping in “spirit and in truth.”
What if I was to buy my mom a dozen roses?
What if I went out and made sure these were the best roses around? They were the right color, the perfect freshness — everything was right.
And after I bring them home she gets excited and puts them in a vase on the table and says, “This means so much.”
And what if I said to her, “Well I’m your son, its my duty,” or “Well they were on sale. I wasn’t really thinking of you, but they were cheap and it wasn’t a hassle.”
The flowers loose all their meaning. Does my mom even want the flowers anymore?
Probably not. If it’s not from the heart, my mom could really care less.
One of the central prayers of the Jewish faith is this: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”
I can sing all day long about how Jesus is everything to me, but if it’s not from the heart, where is the meaning or truth behind it?
I remember when U2 released their album “Pop” in the late 90’s and people every where accused the band of leaving their Christian roots and faith behind.
People said they had lost their religion and were now caught up in the sins of the world.
Critics pointed to “Wake up Dead Man” as the prime example.
In the song Bono sings, “Jesus, Jesus help me. I’m alone in this world and a (messed) up world it is too. Tell me, tell me the story, the one about eternity and the way it’s all gonna be…
“Jesus, I’m waiting here boss. I know you’re looking out for us, but maybe your hands aren’t free. You’re Father, He made the world in seven, He’s in charge of heaven. Could you put a word in for me? Wake up — wake up dead man. Wake up — wake up dead man.”
How could a Christian sing those words? Wasn’t Jesus alive and well?
Any Christian should know that Jesus isn’t dead. Why would they write and sing such herasy?
Yet the more I study and the more I hear the song, I personally believe God was more pleased with that song than the empty words I started singing Sunday morning.
The song reminds me a lot of the first chapter of Habakkuk.
“How long, O LORD , must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, ‘Violence!’ but you do not save? Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds. Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails. The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.”
You would imagine that God might have come down and smitten Habakkuk for his questioning.
Yet God saw his heart and his honesty and reminded him to look outside his own world and see that God was at work in other places as well.
God didn’t judge Habakkuk for his honest questioning, but we do see throughout scripture that God does judge those who bring empty praises and rituals to the table.
God takes no pleasure in our sacrifices if our hearts are not involved. They are a burden to him.
They’re like the dozen roses. Meaninglesss.
Finally, it’s interesting to note, that after questioning God and even hearing that God would bring destruction to Israel, Habakkuk sang praises from his heart.
“God, I’ve heard what our ancestors say about you, and I’m stopped in my tracks, down on my knees. Do among us what you did among them. Work among us as you worked among them. And as you bring judgment, as you surely must, remember mercy… Though the cherry trees don’t blossom and the strawberries don’t ripen, though the apples are worm-eaten and the wheat fields stunted, though the sheep pens are sheepless and the cattle barns empty, I’m singing joyful praise to God. I’m turning cartwheels of joy to my Savior God. Counting on God’s rule to prevail, I take heart and gain strength. I run like a deer. I feel like I’m king of the mountain!”
And similarly, the next song U2 released was “Beautiful Day.”
“The heart is a bloom that shoots up through the stoney ground. There’s no room, no space to rent in this town. You’re out of luck and there’s no reason that you had to care. You thought you found a friend to take you out of this place, someone you can lend a hand in return for grace. It’s a beautiful day. The sky falls but you feel like a beautiful day.”
May the words and praises of our mouth be true overflow of our heart.

Monday night I headed to San Antonio with my good friend Chris Allman and Beau Heitmiller for WWE’s Monday Night Raw at the SBC Center.
And say what you want about wrestling, because we don’t care. We had a great time watching some of our wrestling favorites battle it out for glory and fame.
(On a side note for the Heitmillers, in case you were unaware – don’t ever give Beau caffeine after 10 p.m. He went nuts on the way home. And if he kept you awake after he made it home, don’t blame me – Chris bought the soda for him.)
Anyways, after the show we headed to the car to begin our trip home and Chris made a great observation, “Isn’t it funny how traffic brings out who you really are?”
You really show how greedy, selfish or generous you are on your way out of a traffic or parking lot jam.
We laughed as we watched people squeeze and push their way into the front of the line.
It reminded me of numerous times I’ve sat in parking lots watching people jockey for the front of the line almost as aggressive as the wrestlers we had watched earlier in the evening.
Of course my favorite cars to watch are those leaving Christian conferences and events.
You sometimes have to wonder if they attended the same event as you did.
I remember waiting almost four hours to get out of a parking lot at Southfork Ranch one year.
It was a ridiculous wait, but what I thought was more ridiculous is how rude some people would be just to get a few cars in front of others.
It’s just another reminder than no one — including Christians — are perfect.
I’ve been studying the Apostle Peter lately and I’ve enjoyed comparing him to myself.
When Peter was first introduced to Jesus by his brother Andrew, Jesus told him, “You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas.” Which when translated is Peter, or The Rock.
I wonder what Jesus was thinking when He named Peter The Rock.
As you follow Peter through the Gospels, you see that he was anything but a rock.
He was impulsive, he was unreliable and he even denied knowing Christ three times in the temple courtyard.
Sounds like me and maybe some of those other drivers scrambling for position.
Impulsive, unreliable and its so easy to deny Christ if the storms begin to come.
But Peter’s life shows a remarkable transformation.
From the impulsive disciple comes one of great leaders of the early church.
Christ told Peter, “I tell you that you are Peter and on this rock I will build my church and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.”
After his denial of Christ (John 18:15-18 and 25-27), he became the bold leader on the day of Pentecost, testifying to the miraculous things the people had borne witness to, leading to over 3,000 conversions that day (Acts 2).
Peter also became the bold man before the Sanhedrin which was ready to condemn him and John for their witness and testimony (Acts 4:1-22).
“Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved,” Peter said.
When the Sanhedrin saw the courage of Peter and John and realized they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and took note that these men had been with Jesus.
What a change.
What a rock.
What an example.
So while I can laugh and become bothered by those aggressive, impulsive drivers in the parking lot I need to realize that like Peter too, I’ve been in just as impulsive and selfish.
I’ve wanted to get home just as badly as they have and I’m know I’ve butted my way into a line — or two — or three times.
And I might never be called The Rock, but I need Christ’s transforming power in my life just as badly as Peter did – and just as badly as the drivers in that parking lot do – and just as badly as you do.
Oh — and before I close, big props to the guy in the white car who let us cut in line Monday night.