"Just One More Thing"

Those who are following this blog know my wife is currently recovering from serious surgery. Everyone will be pleased to know my wife is making splendid progress at whipping me into shape even as she makes her way through therapy. I am becoming a first rate nurse. Not the "Nurse Cratchet" variety, mind you. More like the male "gopher" of the species, as in "Honey, could you get -?"
My wife's preferred method for husband training has evolved into a simple request that follows the same pattern with earnest repetition. It's a phrase she has learned to attach to every task and it works with amazing proficiency. Each time I return from fetching or finding, she responds with a smile and "Just one more thing ..."
And there is always "just one more thing." Nothing major, of course, and that is why she has no hesitation to add it.
Being an average guy, I tend to major on efficiency especially when climbing our staircase for yet one more item. The stairs are long - fifteen steps - and steep, much too steep for Mrs. B to try them after only two weeks out of surgery. I call it the "Staircase of Doom," and the nurse quickly killed any notion of my wife climbing it.
That means I have to make the trip, and I'm determined to climb the steps only as often as necessary. I try to assemble of list of things to pick up and bring them all at one time. Trouble is, while I've gone to the mountain, my wife is still thinking. So as soon as I return with an armload, believing the job is done, she says, "Just one more thing."
She's consistent. There will always be at least "one more thing" for everything I do. Now I know why nurses wear those clubby looking athletic shoes on the job. The shoes are good for racing after "just one more thing."
Is there an up side to this? Yes. I'm getting good exercise while running upstairs. I hope to lose a few pounds until my wife fully recovers. I should do well as long as I don't have to go for ice cream too often.

The Fine Print in Marriage

"In sickness and in health..." Those are the words tucked away neatly somewhere in the middle of familiar wedding vows. They are what we might call the "fine print"; the part that does not draw much attention; the part few people notice until some time later in life.
Just such a time recently came to pass under our roof and the roof of another preacher's family for whom we've been praying. In our case, my wife underwent surgery and I've had any resemblance to a normal life put on hold while I nurse her back to health. As those of you who've been through such a time as this can attest, I've done things for my wife that defy description - at least nothing I care to describe in this blog. It is, after all, a family-friendly blog. After the upteenth episode of emptying (I shall delicately call) "the bucket," my wife declared I had gone "beyond the call of duty."
Wrong. It was exactly the call of duty. It's in the fine print. I've done much more than empty "the bucket," but I'm not going there, and no, you don't want to know. It's the fine print.
The other preacher and his wife read the fine print too. In her case, it meant watching the life slowly ebb from her husband until he went into the presence of the Lord. No one ever marries for the fine print. But it's the fine print that gets to you.
In many respects, those vows in the middle - the fine print - may be the most important of all. Those who have lived through their vows with a loved one to the end know more than anyone else that love is spelled out in the fine print. It's the point where true love shines forth; where love is not displayed in the finery of the ceremony, but shines forth in its deepest beauty.
After all, the fine print is where we live.

Life Is Just Too Busy

Some readers have probably noticed that posts to this blog have slowed noticeably in the last month. This has been the case for two reasons. First, our modem decided to expire. We went without internet for several days except for those few occasions when I could sneak off to a Tim Horton's restaurant to use their free "wi-fi." Second, life has been flat too busy.
For a preacher with a small congregation, I am on on the go an awfully lot of the time. Like many preachers in small churches, I too am bi-vocational. That's a fancy way of saying I work two full-time jobs with part-time pay and none of the benefits. I work seven days a week. Yes, I know I'm overdoing it, but what other option is there? It's not like I could hand off some work to the associate pastor. There ain't none. I work Monday through Sunday at the church except for those days -or evenings - when I am called to work at my second job. Since I could be called on to work on almost any day of the week, I begin my church work on Mondays so as to work ahead. That way, if I am called in to work later in the week, I'm not caught short for Sunday.
Of course, working all seven days leaves me little time for reading, writing or family. I could take time off, but in most cases that means taking time away from a small church that very much needs to grow. And if I take time from the other job, our family is short of the income we need just to make ends meet. So here I sit, typing away during "a brief lull in the action," as the saying goes.
My lot as a bi-vocational pastor is terrifically common. If you happen to have a bi-vocational pastor, or know one, thank him for his double life. He will probably laugh and tell you he has everything he needs except sleep. Or he may say he will rest when he goes home to be with the Lord. Tell him you understand, but he doesn't have to be in such a hurry to go. He may still laugh, but he will appreciate your thoughtfulness.

"Boogety, Boogety, Let's Go Racing"

Remember when this preacher was trying to visualize a race car with our church's name emblazoned on the side? Remember when I described the idea as surreal? Well sir, it's real.
Last week was Wayne's birthday. Wayne, you may recall, is a new attender at our church who just happens to race "pro 4" trucks similar to those seen in the Nascar Craftsman Series. It was Wayne who first approached the idea of "Bible Baptist Fellowship" advertised on his truck as he whizzed around Shadybowl Speedway.
Anyway, last weekend our church gathered for our first official "church night at the track" to celebrate Wayne's birthday and cheer him on. As things sometimes work out in racing, the evening did not go as planned. A carburetor problem kept him from racing. No one was more disappointed than Wayne.
"I wanted to surprise you," he said, and then revealed what he had been planning all along. Unknown to me, Wayne had the name of our church stenciled on the back quarter panels of his racing truck. And on the rear gate, the words stood out, "www.underthepreachersroof.blogspot.com." Amazing.
How many churches do you know with their own racing team? How many churches care to try?
One of our church families discussed the significance of the evening as they drove home. "Wayne may not fully understand the significance of tonight," one member said, "But now he knows he has a church that cares for him and will be there to support him, even if he doesn't drive."
Exactly. And that's the way we hope to reach Wayne, his family and all the other families like his with the gospel. Someone has to care. Someone has to try. Someone has to go after a part of the culture no one else is reaching through a local church. That's what it's all about. "So reach up there, pull that belt tight one more time, and let's go racing, boys."

What Do We Do When the Roof Changes?

Sooner than we ever imagined, some day, our roof is going to change. Retirement will set in and I will no longer be the pastor. Preacher, yes - pastor, no. Retirement may also mean a change in housing. The preacher's roof will change literally. We may be downsizing to a property more in line with what age and physical abilities will allow us to maintain. As the baby boomer generation continues to age, I wouldn't be surprised to see a huge expansion in condominium construction. Condos appear to be the house of choice for the future.
Retirement also means changing churches. I'm not the first preacher to imagine that somehow I could retire quietly to the back row of my church and let some young kid take over "my" church, but honestly, I hope I have better sense. I hope I am wise and considerate enough of the next pastor to get out of his way - far out of his way - and let him do his job without fear that I'm looking over his shoulder. I've had that experience and I don't intend to inflict it or myself on someone else. I can count on two fingers the total number of pastors I know who have successfully remained with their churches in retirement.
Yes, the next man will make mistakes, just as we all have. Yes, he will make changes. He must. He is not the same person as the pastor he follows. Yes, he will take the church in a different direction. But as long as the new direction is still biblically sound, that's his business, not mine. There is only one thing I could hope for as I anticipate retirement some day - that my church lasts longer than I do. After that, my job is done.

Time For a Little Reflection

This past week, my wife and I marked a couple of significant anniversaries. We celebrated our thirty-fourth wedding anniversary with a romantic riverboat dinner cruise on the Ohio River. Today, I attended a recognition breakfast as Belinda received her certificate for five years with her employer. Occasions such as these cannot help but cause me to reflect on the life God has given us together.
Life under the preacher's roof has been anything but boring. All too often we seemed to be on the "outs" - out of a job, out of a home and out of money. But the one thing we've never been is out of love. My wife's evaluation is that we've had a good life together, and if she is satisfied with that, I am not about to disagree.
Ever so often, I meet and counsel with people who are upset, even angry with the life and circumstances God has given them. They resent the life they've had. They are angry with God and sometimes angry with me because I remind them of God just by being a preacher. When I begin to analyze their complaints, I find frequently they have had a much easier life than we have led. Certainly, they have had more material blessings than we have enjoyed.
This is not to complain on our part. Quite the opposite. We have not had much materially, but the things we have had are the things money can't buy. I've had the best wife I could have every had under any circumstances. We have reared three kids who turned out to be fine adults. They are all in church and serving the Lord. We have never had very large churches, but we've lived long enough to see that most of our ministries were successful. The church we are in now is small and still in its infancy, but we could not ask for better people.
If I lost everything tomorrow, I would still have to say it's been a good life, a successful life and a satisfying life. No one should ever need more than that.

The Trouble With Helping People

Have you ever noticed that sometimes people just don't know when they're being helped? We have some people in our church who are badly in need of employment, as is the common denominator in a lot of churches these days. Naturally, people have turned to the pastor for whatever help, recommendations or connections I could offer. Of course, I am glad to do whatever I can.
But there is one situation that is frustrating because my attempts to help seem to be getting no where. Several people in church have located numerous job offers for one particular brother, but his every effort to apply appear to be fruitless. His computer always malfunctions with every application. Significantly, none of the available jobs are exactly what the man has in mind for a career. Could that be a factor in his job-hunting difficulty? I don't know. He is sincere, and seems to be depending on the Lord for leading him to a job. Still, none of the jobs around match with what this brother senses as his "calling."
He reminds me of a story my daughter told me recently:
A man was stranded in his home in the midst of a flood. Eventually, a rescue boat arrived, and the captain called out, "Get on the boat and we will take you to safety!"
"No, thanks," the man replied, "God will take care of me."
A second boat arrived some time later with the same offer of help, and the man replied again: "No thanks, the Lord will take care of me."
The flood grew worse. The man went from the first floor to the second. Finally, he went to the roof. A helicopter arrived on the scene.
"Climb on the ladder," the pilot called, "and I will take you to safety."
"No thanks," the man replied again, "The Lord will take care of me."
After the helicopter left, the house was swamped and the man drowned. When he arrived at heaven's door, he said to the Lord, "I don't understand. I thought you would take care of me."
The Lord replied, "I sent you two boats and a helicopter. What more did you want?"