Still Crazy After All These Years

Here it is, September 11, 2012.  Just 11 years ago, the towers came down, the Pentagon was gouged, and a lonely plane crashed in a field outside Pittsburgh before its terrorist pilots could ram it into yet another target.  It was a dark day, a day, according to singer Alan Jackson, “when the world stopped turning.”  It surely did stop turning for thousands of Americans who died that horrible day at the hands of Bin Laden’s henchmen.

Everybody who lived that day remembers that day.  Do you remember the immediate aftermath?  It was amazing.  I’d never seen anything quite like it in my then 46 years of life.  American flags went up everywhere including on cars and trucks.  Churches opened their doors for special prayer meetings and people came.  They came to pray for the victims, for the victims’ families, and for our country, and many even prayed for our enemies.  For the next two or three Sundays churches were more crowded as usual—filled with people looking for hope, looking for answers, looking for something beyond themselves.  And in one of the most amazing scenes of all, we saw film of our Congressmen and women, Republicans and Democrats, arm in arm praying together and singing God, Bless America.  Nope, I’d never seen anything like that in my life.

On that day and in the few weeks that followed, there was no such thing as Republicans or Democrats or hyphenated-Americans or upper, middle, or lower class Americans.  We were all just Americans—united, praying Americans, “one nation under God, indivisible.”  Having grown up during the turbulent social revolution of the 60s, the Viet Nam war, and the Watergate scandal of the early 70s, I’d never seen such national unity in my life than I witnessed in those few short weeks after 9/11.

But, of course, it didn’t last.  Once it was obvious that no more attacks were imminent, we went back to our old crazy ways of division and hyphenation, class warfare, and what Bill Clinton called “the politics of personal destruction.”  We went back into our old ways of not asking what we can do for our country but asking what our country can do for us.  Here it is eleven years later, and like the Paul Simon song so aptly says, “We’re still crazy after all these years.”

Would you join me in praying for a united America once again, an America we all long for, an America unashamed to get down on our knees and ask God for forgiveness and mercy?  It would be nice to see that again.  And it would be even nicer if it didn’t take another 9/11 to get us there.  

Reflections of a Political Cynic

Before you read, a caveat: this is not an endorsement of any candidate.  In fact, it’s sort of a gripe and a petition at the same time.  But, as you can see from the title, I don’t expect it to do any good which means it’s probably not very helpful.  And because cynicism is kind of catchy, perhaps you’d be better off to stop reading right here, but that’s up to you.  You’ve been warned. 

Well, the general election is in full swing.  I can certainly understand why people call this “the silly season.”  The conventions are over; the fact-checkers have informed us that both parties have a hard time telling the whole truth.  Negative ads have already been rolling and will probably only get worse.  Like many elections, by the time we go to the polls, we may find that we have to hold our nose, if we’re not holding it already.  Who can be sure what to believe?  The spin machine on both sides is spinning out of control.  America is in trouble.  And in the meantime, on one side we have a Senate minority leader who (in likely speaking for his party) says his number one goal is to make Barak Obama a one-term president.  (I wish his number one goal was to help Americans find work or fix the economy.)  On the other side we have a president and his party who apparently live in an alternate universe, telling us how things are better and how the private sector is doing fine.  And we have members of Congress who fear voting their conscience if it goes against the party line for fear they’ll be shunned or left out or cut off or underfunded in their reelection campaigns.  Good grief!  No wonder these people can’t and won’t work together.  They love power and they hate each other.  That should come as no surprise, really.  It’s usually always about the power and who has it, more than it’s about anything else.  God, help America, please!  Pretty please!  Forgive us for our sins.  Forgive us for our neglect of you and your ways.  Forgive us for our hunger for power and our lack of appetite for you.

Wouldn’t it be refreshing to hear the president say, “Look, I’ve obviously made some mistakes in my first term.  I can read the numbers.  We’re in trouble, and I can’t find a way out of this mess by myself.  I need help from everybody who has good ideas.  I don’t care if the person is a Republican or a Democrat or an independent.  If we don’t get this ship turned soon, we’re all sunk.  So let’s pull together, work together, ignore all ‘political’ considerations, not give a rat’s behind about who gets the credit, and fix this thing.  It’s not going to be easy.  It’s going to hurt.  It’s going to take sacrifice on the part of us all.  It’s not going to be popular.  A lot members of my party are not going to like me.  And I may never be elected to anything again in my life.  But this problem is bigger than me and it’s bigger than political parties, so for at least a season, let’s work together, and God help us get this thing done.”

And wouldn’t it be refreshing to hear Romney say, “Ditto!  If I’m elected, I’m going to adopt that same approach and attitude.  And if it costs me re-election in four years, then at least it will be in a good cause.”

And wouldn’t it be refreshing to hear Congress say, “At least until we get these massive problems solved we don’t have ‘both sides of the aisle,’ we have no aisle.  We are in this together.  To heck with party goals and special interest groups and political action committees and lobbyists!  We’re going to think America first and party not at all.  And every one of us is willing to lose our next election to get these problems fixed.”

But, of course, we won’t hear this out of the mouth of either candidate or the Congress.  They’re too beholding to ideologies, too beholding to their political parties, too interested in power, too worried about re-election and campaign contributions.  I have no doubt that both men and most reps and senators want to do good and right by America.  But I fear they’re too blinded by their ideologies and their quest for power to humble themselves, think for themselves, swallow their pride, take hands, exercise a little personal courage, and actually do what the American people elect them to do.  Can’t they fuss about social issues later, and work on righting this economy now?  I know there are important foreign policy issues at stake.  And I know we all want to fight about abortion and gay marriage and who’s going to pay for whose contraceptives, but the economy is an issue that must be resolved and quickly or we’ll be crushed by our mountain of debt.  It’s time for all the would-be Neros in Washington to quit fiddling and start putting out the fire that could potentially burn our nation down to the ashes of history.  Yet, the fiddles play on.

I can hear you now: “McCallum, you’re a political cynic.”  You’re right; I am.  “McCallum, don’t you understand that all this posturing and filibustering and lying and smearing and distorting and voting the party-line, is just the way the game is played?”  Yes I do.  And that’s precisely the point: this is not a game.  It’s real life.  It’s affecting real people.  And the nation is on the brink.  Anybody who can work basic math can see that our current economic situation is so dangerous to America’s future that it’s as if our nation is the Titanic and instead of 2012 it’s 1912.  Surely someone in Washington, someone with the power to do something about it, someone with their hand on the wheel, can see the iceberg dead ahead.

God help us all!   

Preaching on Sex: The Cutting Room Floor (Part 2)

As I mentioned in my blog post earlier this week, Sunday’s sermon on sex was a little long and there were several things I gathered in my research I was unable to fit into the sermon.  Those things ended up on the cutting room floor, but they are worthy to read and consider.  I included some of those things in Part 1.  Here are a few more things to help you think wisely about sexual issues in marriage and in our culture.

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From The Week, February 16, 2007 via Leadership (Summer 2007), 59.  This will make men feel good about themselves (see sarcasm):

A survey of 1,000 American women found that most valued their favorite clothes more than sex and would gladly abstain for 15 months in exchange for an entirely new wardrobe.

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In his book, 11, Len Sweet (p. 32) quotes this statement from Bill Perkins for those who think they're immune from ever falling into sexual sin: “If you think you can’t fall into sexual sin, then you’re godlier than David, stronger than Samson, and wiser than Solomon.”

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Here’s part of an article dealing with a study of sex and co-habitation: Busby, D.M., Carroll, J.S., & Willoughby, B. J., "Compatibility or restraint? The effects of sexual timing on marriage relationships," Journal of Family Psychology (2010) | posted 3/07/2011 at PreachingToday.com

Does delaying sex until after marriage improve your marital relationship? According to a 2010 research study, the answer is a clear yes. As reported in the Journal of Family Psychology (and later in the January 22, 2011, edition of The Economist), the study surveyed 2,035 married couples and asked them about their initial sexual experience together (before or after the wedding). Of the 2,035 couples, 336 couples reported waiting until they got married to have sex. The largest group of couples had sex within a few weeks of dating, and 126 couples had sex prior to dating. (This prompted a psychologist who reviewed the study to note, "I guess I'm not sure what constitutes dating anymore.")

After analyzing the data, the three researchers concluded that waiting until after marriage improved the relationship (for both men and women) in four key areas: sexual quality, relationship communication, relationship satisfaction, and perceived relationship stability. According to the study, people who waited until marriage:

·         rated sexual quality 15 percent higher than people who had premarital sex

·         rated relationship stability 22 percent higher

·         rated satisfaction with their relationships 20 percent higher

The data showed that premarital sex doesn't necessarily doom the future marriage to failure. On the other hand, based on this research, there is no validity to the idea that premarital sex is needed to "test" and possibly improve the future marriage relationship. The authors stated that waiting until after the wedding day (what they call "commitment-based sexuality") "is more likely to create a sense of security and clarity between partners … about exclusivity and a future."

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In the article, “Sex Economics 101,” Katelyn Beaty asked Mark Regnerus, an early-marriage sociologist, about his research on the sexual behavior and attitudes of young adults.  (Posted on February 18, 2011, at ChristianityToday.com).

In light of the predominance of internet pornography, Beaty asked Regnerus this question: How does pornography change the sexual marketplace, for women as well as men?  This is Regnerus’ answer:

It takes power away from women as a group, because it provides men with another sexual outlet. Some will say that Playboy has been around a long time, but today's porn is not like that. It puts one bedside in high definition. Individual women notice it in their relationships, especially in marriage. But even before marriage, it's still at work, eroding the value of what she has that he wants. Now she has to compete with virtual sex partners as well as other women.

I used to think young women would have the last laugh here—that men would come to understand that sex is not like porn. I'm not so sure about that anymore. Speaking as a sociologist, you can't form enough accountability groups to erase the effects of porn on the relationship pool. It's not just about helping Joe Christian steer clear of this thing he'd like. It colors more than we think.

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And there you have it—a few more things, some of them rather troubling, to provide grist for the mill of your thinking in regard to sexuality in our culture and for the church.  I encourage you to add your voice to this discussion in our culture.  God knows the anything-goes voices have had the floor long enough.

Preaching on Sex: The Cutting Room Floor (Part 1)

I’ve been preaching a marriage series at church these last three Sundays.  I’ve got one more Sunday to go.  This past Sunday I preached on the sexual relationship.  Because I don’t preach on sex very often, my sermon was longer than usual: I just sort of backed up the truck and dumped a lot of content on my poor congregation.  But even then, there were things I would have liked to have said but just couldn’t find the space or the place.  Because of the high interest in the subject matter, however, I want to share in a couple of blog posts some of the stuff that ended up on the cutting room floor of my sermon preparation.  I find it both interesting and compelling, and I hope it makes you think.  We Christians need to think better about human sexuality than does the prevailing culture.  And, of course, it wouldn't hurt for us to live better in this area too.

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In reminding us that sex is not just a body thing but a soul thing, G. K. Chesterton once said that “every man who visits a prostitute is looking for God.”

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This is from Will Willimon’s book, Why Jesus? (Nashville: Abingdon, 2010), 71:

One subject that is very, very important to most of us is sexuality—a topic of endless debate at national church assemblies and the engine that seems to drive most advertising.  Curiously, we are clueless about the sexuality of Jesus.  Although he seems to have relished the company of men and women, Jesus seems to have held little interest in sex.  Not that Jesus was prudish (John says he intervened in the execution of a woman caught in adultery, condemning her pious accusers more severely than her).  Jesus simply had little concern for the subject that seems to consume many of us.  To the thoroughly liberated, sexually unconstrained modern person for whom sexual orientation is the defining mark of humanity, Jesus’ nonchalance about sex may be his strangest quality.  We simply cannot imagine any fully human being who is not driven by genitalia.  Our preoccupation with sex is surely a testimony to the limitations of modern imagination rather than to Jesus’ undeveloped libido.  Presuming to stand at the summit of human development yet descending to “doing it” like dogs, rutting like rabbits (which is probably a bit unfair to dogs and rabbits), we surely would not impress Jesus.  So before you dismiss Jesus for his lack of interest in the endeavor that often most energizes us, consider that Jesus was working with a very different definition of a human being than those who help to sell soap, jeans, and male-enhancement medications.  Jesus appears to have held the opinion that you and I are destined for more meaningful activity than mutual orgasm.

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In his book, Surprised By Hope (p. 43), N. T. Wright shares this:  “Belief in bodily resurrection was one of the two central things that the pagan doctor Galen noted about Christians (the other being their remarkable sexual restraint).”  And in the sex-saturated, anything-goes Roman culture, Christians’ sexual restraint was truly remarkable.  It would be just as remarkable in our culture today.

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And this from Tim Keller, The Meaning of Marriage (New York: Dutton, 2011), 24:

Indeed, sex is perhaps the most powerful God-created way to help you give your entire self to another human being.  Sex is God’s appointed way for two people to reciprocally say to one another, “I belong completely, permanently, and exclusively to you.”  You must not use sex to say anything else.

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That should be enough to get you thinking right now.  I’ll post a little more next time.  If you want to read the sermon, you can find it here:  

http://storage.cloversites.com/firstbaptistchurchhotspringsarkansas/documents/Marriage%20-%20Sex%20Is%20Gods%20Idea.pdf

An Old Flame Flickers Once Again

“I’m done,” I said back in 1995 when major league baseball players went on yet another strike.  I pretty much always side with the owners in players’ strikes because the players are already overpaid, and the owners take all the risk and pay all the overhead.  “I’m done!”

I was done with a sport I had followed passionately since my earliest childhood, a sport I played on playgrounds, baseball fields, and even my own front yard and street.  I was the kid on the bike with the baseball glove hanging on the handlebars.  I was the kid who came to school sweaty on spring mornings after playing the bunting game with my brothers in our driveway.  I was the kid who was enamored with a boy in my class named David Faucett because he was somehow related to Mickey Mantle.  I was the kid who had the collie that got down in ready position and fielded grounders with her mouth and fearlessly went after short pop-ups too.  I was the kid who played one-on-one whiffle ball in my front yard.  A lawn chair was the strike zone allowing for walks and called strikes.  A grounder was an out.  A base hit was getting the ball to the street in the air.  A double was a line drive over the hedge at the edge of the house across the street.  And a home run was a blast over the power lines that stretched parallel above the hedge in my neighbor's yard across the street.  And if the batter got it over the highest power line it was a grand slam whether anybody was on base or not.  Hours and hours of this through my growing up years.  I was done with a sport I loved to play. 

I was done with a sport I watched from the early days of The Game of the Week on Saturdays to the more liberal coverage in the late 80s and early 90s.  I still remember when my dad got us our first color TV so we could watch the All-Star Game in color in 1972.  I was done with baseball.  I still played softball for a while, but after 1995 I didn’t watch a major league game for years.  The only exception was the great home run chase in 1998 between Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa.  I did get interested in watching them chase Roger Maris’ record.  But that was it.  I didn’t follow any team.  I didn’t watch the All-Star game or the World Series.  I was done.

And then I made the mistake of going to a game at Orioles Park at Camden Yards two years ago.  My first baseball love was the Baltimore Orioles.  I flirted with Cardinals off and on.  And I considered myself a Royals fan for many years too.  But my first love was the Orioles.  I made no bones about my devotion.  I was a catcher in Little League and my coach, Bill Nevins, called my Etchebarren because that was the name of the Orioles’ catcher.  I first fell for O’s when I saw them sweep the Dodgers in the World Series in 1966.  And then when I found out that Brooks Robinson was from Little Rock, the city I was born in and lived in till I was 8-years-old, well, I was smitten.  I knew their line up from top to bottom.  I loved Frank Robinson and that great pitching staff of Cuellar and McNally and Palmer.  Boog Powell was a stud at first base and Paul Blair made centerfield look easy.  I loved those guys, knew all their stats, checked the box score every day in the paper, and pretended to be them when I was playing in the yard.  I was some fan.  Now and then they were on the Game of the Week and whenever they played the Kansas City (first the A’s, then the Royals), I could listen to them on the radio.  And of course, I enjoyed them in their three straight World Series too.  I didn’t enjoy those stinkin’ Amazin’ Mets beating them in ’69 or the Pirates knocking them off in ’71, but I loved it when Brooks and the boys put it to the Big Red Machine in 1970.  Ah, the memories …

The first flicker of that old flame sparked when I had the privilege to meet Brooks Robinson at a golf tournament in Hot Springs a few years ago.  Meeting a childhood hero was pretty cool, even for a guy like me in his 50s.  And that little spark rekindled more brightly yet when Dayna and I went to that game at Camden Yards in 2010.  Before I knew it, I had the Orioles on my favorite teams list in my I-phone app called ESPN Scorecenter which allows me to follow every game (every pitch even) in real time.  I can also listen to them on XM radio.  I can watch the game highlights on the team’s website.  I can even tell you the names of their players (though at my age I don’t worry about memorizing any stats).  When I fell for the Orioles again, they pretty much stunk.  They haven’t even had a .500 record for years.  But here it is the end of August and they are 12 games over .500 and right in the thick of the wild card race for the playoffs.  I guess they just needed me back on board.

And I guess that’s where I am these days: back on board with the O’s.  I’ve already bought two hats and a shirt, so I guess I’m committed.  Somebody once said something to this effect: “Within the heart of every man lives a little flame that still flickers from a childhood altar he built to his baseball idol.”  That little flame flickers once again.  And you know, I’m kind of glad it does.

Let’s go O’s!    

Pastor, I've Got a Beef With You!

I don’t think I’ve ever used the blog to rant about anything.  I only rant now and then as it is, and only then for a minute or two at a time.  Using the blog to rant just isn’t my style.  So with that caveat, I’m going to rant for a minute a two.  Ministers who read this will readily relate.  And for those of you who are not ministers, this will give you a little insight into some of “the little foxes that destroy the vines” for ministers—those little joy-stealers that over time can wound a minister’s soul.

This blog post was born in Honduras of all places.  I was on mission with a team from our church.  One of the team members told me about a conversation she’d just had with her daughter who serves as an associate minister to university students in another city.  Her daughter is new to local church ministry.  What happened to her was bound to happen.  It happens to every minister sooner or later and sometimes often.  A woman in the church appointed herself to be this young minister’s critic.  She took it upon herself to tell this young minister that she was not dressing appropriately (this was not a modesty issue it was a style-preference issue).  The woman also had some distinct pointers for this young minister as to what she was doing wrong in her ministry and what she should do if she wanted to do it right.  To her credit, the lady did not raise her voice.  She spoke matter-of-factly.  But she spoke in the kind of condescending tone that wounds the spirit.  The young minister braced herself in the moment but dissolved in tears later. 

Like the old bumper sticker says, it happens.  It happens a lot in the ministry, and young ministers are the easiest targets.  Sure, many of the critics are well-meaning, but they don’t realize that the damage they do is usually greater than the potential good.  And it’s not that young ministers aren’t open to criticism.  Most are.  But they need constructive criticism, not what feels like some sneak attack they never saw coming.  Thankfully, my young friend’s wise and loving supervisor helped put her back together and give her some perspective.

While young ministers are the easier targets, seasoned ministers get sniped at plenty too.  It’s just that seasoned ministers have been at it long enough to develop some calluses on their souls.  Plus, this kind of sniping at seasoned ministers often comes “anonymously.”  Listening to the story of this young minister, I was reminded that a Sunday or two before I left for Honduras, I found a note stuck in my study door.  We have two morning worship services.  This was placed there sometime between the services.  And this is what it said:

Well — I always suspected that you didn’t care for me—you just confirmed it today.  I guess it’s always good to know where you stand—just chopped meat!  I do not know what it is about me that offends you or what I’ve done to repel you, so I have attempted to stay out of your way and out of your eyesight as much as possible.  I apologize for anything that irks you about what I’ve done or said.

This one hurt.  As a pastor who intentionally works hard to love everyone in the flock and treat everyone the same, I was taken aback by this.  But even more, this hurt because there is nothing I can do about it.  I have no idea who this is, though I’m guessing by the excellent penmanship that this is a woman.  I’m truly sorry for the hurt this woman feels.  What a joy it would be to know who this is so I could sit down with her and rebuild something I didn’t even know was broken with someone I didn’t even know I was hurting.  This person is hurting because of what she perceives is my disdain for him/her.  It would be a good thing to be able to tell her that her perceptions are false and find out how I could better serve her as a pastor and even explore why she feels so easily slighted.  It would be nice to be able to be her pastor, to tend to the one hurting lamb rather than make some blanket statement to the entire flock in hopes that she gets the message.

This woman’s anonymous criticism is not an attack; it’s more a statement of her own pain.  I’ve certainly taken far worse shots in 37 years of local church ministry.  And I’ve had it easy compared to a lot of ministers I know.  Some are under constant attack from their own flock—sniping here, criticizing there, firing up a little gossip in this corner or that.  Some ministers get it anonymously—the sniper shot from long distance.  Some get Pearl Harbored—the sneak attack they didn’t see coming that catches them off-guard and unprepared.  Others get D-Dayed—a full-blown frontal assault.  I just read an article that says 79% of pastors admit that that their critics are a major distraction in their ministry—79%, that’s almost 8 in 10—see (http://www.lifeway.com/Article/thom-rainer-two-big-distractions-for-pastors?emid=CW-PastorsToday-20120813).  We ministers certainly deserve some of the criticism we get, but I doubt if any of us comes close to deserving it all.  There’s not a Sunday that goes by when some minister somewhere doesn’t resign one church to move to another or even leaves the ministry altogether because of his/her critics.  Over time, it wounds the soul, diminishes a minister’s love for the work, and drives them to other pastures or out of the ministry completely.  Some go quietly.  Some don’t—like this pastor I heard about who on his last Sunday in a church where the critics just wore him out, preached his final sermon, and walked to the back of the church with a sprig of mistletoe pinned on the back of his sports coat just above the waist.  Now that’s a statement!

There!  I feel a little better.  And if you’ve got an issue with your minister and want to help both your minister and you feel better, deal with it in appropriate ways.  Most ministers are open to the concerns of their congregation.  Here are some ways to approach your minister when you’ve got something a little hard to say and a little hard to hear:

Own your criticism.  Anonymous criticism is useless.  When there’s no name and no context, other than maybe making the critic feel better, the criticism will accomplish nothing.  Famous pastor, Henry Ward Beecher, once received an anonymous note inscribed with only one word: “Fool!”  Beecher said, “Usually when I receive anonymous criticism I get a note and no signature.  This is the first time I received a signature and no note.”  Own your criticism.  If you can’t own it, keep it to yourself.

Take your criticism to the minister.  Don’t take it to a staff minister.  Don’t take it to other members of the congregation.  If you’ve got a beef with your minister, take your beef to him/her.

Check your own motives and pray for discernment as to whether this is a criticism that you really need to share.

In discerning the value of your criticism, ask yourself these questions: is it truthful; is it helpful; is this criticism a matter of “iron sharpening iron” or do I just want to get something off my chest and draw a little blood; can I present it with a loving spirit?  Those are good questions.

Make an appointment and share your criticism/concern face to face.  If you don’t feel able to do that, then try a phone call or an email.  But conversation is best because it allows both parties to clear up misunderstandings immediately whether than wondering what one or the other “really” means by what they say.

Seek clarity, pray together, and leave to God whether the minister acts on your criticism or not.

If you approached your minister with a good spirit and the meeting was a disaster leaving you and the minister out of fellowship, ask a deacon to accompany you for a second meeting.  Work to restore fellowship.

So there you go—helpful ways to confront your minister when you’ve got a beef to deal with him/her.  (How ministers can be unfairly critical of their congregations is another blog for another time.)  And I can only imagine how many relationships could be restored, how improved the church’s fellowship could become, how much help a minister could receive, and how much better the ministry of the minister and the church would be if we’d just treat one another like Jesus taught us.  Now there’s a novel idea, huh?

Everybody Needs a Friend

I think it was Jay Leno who said, “A good friend will help you move; a really good friend will help you move a body.”  Everybody needs a friend—something I was reminded of these last couple of weeks.  The first weekend of July Dayna and I made a Texas trip to see some family with a couple of our best friends (who really are more like family).   Then, I spent the last part of this past week meeting up in Arlington, Virginia, with two of my best and oldest friends.

Honestly, I feel a little awkward writing about friendship.  I have never fashioned myself a very good friend.  If I’m needed I’ll be there and am glad to be there and usually even want to be there.  But it seems that most of my friends have to take the initiative in our relationship—they usually make the first call, set up some kind of get-together, make things happen.  I’m a rather passive friend, I guess.  I wish I was better at it.

And I could learn from my friends who are so very good to me.  That’s George Flanagan and Drew Hill in the picture above.  After spending his whole adult life pastoring churches in Missouri, Drew just followed the Lord to a church in Arlington, Virginia.  Drew, George, and I try to get together once a year if possible since we all live in different places.  And we determined that we weren’t going to let Virginia’s distance from Missouri and Arkansas get in our way (especially when I have frequent flyer miles to redeem).  So we met at Drew’s new digs in Arlington.  You know how it is with a friend—when you picture them in your mind, when you pray for them, you want to be able to picture them in their environment.  We can do that with Drew now.

And as always, we picked up right where we left off last year.  I’ve known George since 1981.  We worked together two different times on the same church staff.  I’ve always considered him my pastoral therapist.  He’s counseled with me concerning life and marriage on more occasions than he probably wanted to.  But he’s a friend, so he always listens.  I’ve known Drew since the mid-80s.  He’s a brother pastor.  I know much of his family as well.  We hit it off from the first.  Like me, Drew shares the spiritual gift of sarcasm.  He has a rich sense of humor.  And yet he knows when to be serious too.  We share other gifts and passions.  We can talk shop or sports or family or our own junk or anything else.  The same goes for George.  We laugh a lot (a whole lot) when we’re together.  We laugh with each other and at each other.  We can pick at each other and tease each other and encourage and bless each other too.  We’ve all three been friends together since 1992 when we entered the doctoral program.  We were in the same doctoral peer group.  We did several seminars together.  We sweated our doctoral projects together.  And we graduated together.  We’ve been tight ever since.

Now, I suppose you could say that we all sort of choose our friends in life.  There’s much truth to that.  But don’t you think there’s some divine mystery behind it too.  C. S. Lewis once wrote this about friendship:

In friendship, we think we have chosen our peers.  In reality, a few years' difference in the dates of our births, a few more hundred miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another … any of these chances might have kept us apart. But for the Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret Master of Ceremonies has been at work.

I’m thankful the secret Master of Ceremonies saw fit to bring George and Drew into my life.  I treasure their friendship.  I learn from them.  I’m a better Christian because of them.  And I can’t wait to get together with them again.  Do you have some friends like this?  I hope so … because everybody needs a friend.

In 1961, near the end of his life, baseball legend Ty Cobb confessed, “If I had a chance to live my life over, I’d do things a little different … I’d have more friends.”  I think I would too—especially if they are friends like George and Drew.