Tag: listening to Jesus

Listening to God’s Voice

I recently turned down a small TV interview about our church without even stopping to consider it. The invitation felt flattering, but didn’t feel from God. I explained why, with my arrogant past, I don’t trust myself to properly handle spotlight. I’m sure my response sounded absurd.

Speech Making

This morning, I quite randomly began mentally preparing a speech. What would I say about Jesus to a hypothetical ‘men’s ministry’ gathering?
These thoughts came completely unexpected, without any logical explanation. I caught myself and laughed at my mental exercise.
I’m not known for my great speaking abilities. No one has ever asked me to speak at a gathering like that. And I’m not exactly your stereotypical “men’s ministry guest speaker.” [Think athlete or military hero, beard, owns 6 firearms, kills his own meat, etc. 😀]

After realizing the absurdity of suddenly planning a speech no one asked me to give, I quickly moved on to other things.

A Surprise Phone Call

But 20 minutes later, I had a phone call. Someone is planning a Christian event for men next fall. They’d like me to share Renovation Community’s story during one of the speaking slots. I accepted, without even stopping to consider it. God already gave His answer.

Many thoughts feel totally random. My senses clearly inspire many other thoughts…a conversation, smell, touch, or sight creates a semi-predictable neurological chain reaction.
But I’ve found, when I’m listening closely, God also guides me with thoughts, words, and plans from Him.

The prophet Isaiah mentioned the “voice” guiding from behind. Jesus spoke of his voice guiding from out front.

Lousy Listening

Perhaps you feel like me…that you’ve spent more time listening to your own voice than God’s. God will forgive you as He forgave me this morning (and as He’s forgiven me countless times).

Never stop listening for God’s voice. He’s always speaking.

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”” Isaiah 30:21

“…he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.” John 10:4

“…the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things…” John 14:26

Jesus Is Calling Me to the Laundry Room

washing-machine

I turned down an invitation to apply for pastoral openings at some good churches this week.
Our denomination has a title called District Superintendent. One of the many jobs they do is help churches on their district find a new pastor when the previous pastor leaves.
A DS from another state sent me an email. He asked me to send him my résumé. He heard one of my former ministry professors speak very highly of me. Of course, he’s never heard one of my long-winded sermons!
He requested I consider applying for some of the open pastoral positions in this other state.

A terrific recommendation and a request that I apply for some job openings. Isn’t that the clear voice of God saying it’s time to go pastor a different church?

In the Gospel of John, Jesus describes himself as the “Good Shepherd.” He says “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.”
I heard my Good Shepherd’s voice this week. But he was not calling me to another church. He was calling me to my laundry room.
Our church is 20 minutes away from the homeless shelters near downtown Fort Worth. You’ll always find homeless up there around Lancaster Street. But, if you pay attention, you’ll find many homeless in our neighborhood. They get cups of free water from the gas station, pick up leftover food as the restaurants close each night, and hide behind dumpsters. I see the “regulars” as my son and I walk to the dollar store. The regulars in our area know our church now.
When a new homeless person asks the Goodwill store across the street for help, the employees send them to the Parsonage (the house in church property where we live– where the “Parson” lives).

The “regulars” have used our church overhangs for shelter during the rain. They rarely join us Sunday mornings because crowds now make them jittery after years of living alone.

But they stop and talk to me as I work out in the yard. I sometimes pay them a little cash for odd jobs around our dilapidated church buildings. They mow the lawn, mop the floors, dig ditches, and throw away years of accumulated church clutter.

As they work, I make them a sandwich and wash their dirty clothes. It always takes two, sometimes three, wash cycles to remove the smell. If they have both light and dark clothing, I wash them separately to insure their darks aren’t covered with white fuzz balls after drying. As the second load waits by the washing machine, their smell overpowers our small laundry room. We open the window.

There’s a story about one of God’s ancient prophets. God said he would soon show himself to Elijah. As the prophet waits for God to appear, a cataclysmic wind “tears the mountains apart,” an earthquake strikes, and a sudden fire appears. But the Bible says the “LORD was not in them.” The Bible says God finally shows up to speak with Elijah in “a gentle whisper.”

Every apparent act of God…isn’t.

A homeless man’s clothes were in our laundry room when I received that email. But my Good Shepherd’s voice was not in that email. He wasn’t telling me to leave my current church.
Instead, I heard Jesus’ voice calling out from the laundry room. I heard him repeating the words he said 2,000 years ago…”whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). Once again, Jesus said he did not come to be served, but to serve” (Mark 10:45).
And so, I washed the dirty clothes of a homeless man. Jesus washed feet. I wash clothes. I washed, dried, and folded them with care.
As I folded this man’s underwear, I suddenly pictured Jesus’ last supper with his disciples.
I pull the underwear from the dryer last. Will this man be embarrassed when he receives his clean underwear? I fold it and place it underneath other clothes. Where the disciples embarrassed when Jesus held their dirty feet in his hands? The Bible says “love covers a multitude of sins.” Did the human embodiment of Perfect Love try to cover each disciple’s wet, dirty feet from the view of other watching disciples? Would Jesus have hidden the underwear in the middle of the folded pile, as I just did?
Other pastors will receive an email similar to the one I read last week. ‘Their name came up…would they like to interview?, etc.’ A few pastors will hear their Good Shepherd’s voice in those emails. They will hear a call, like ancient Abraham, to leave a familiar home and follow God where He leads them. But, to borrow a phrase from Elijah’s story, the LORD was not in my inbox.
The email was flattering. But it was not the voice of God. I believe I already heard God’s voice 10 months ago say I would serve the people at my church for a very long time.

Most of us want God to show up in the windstorm or the fire from heaven. Am I the only one who reads into every big life event as some sort of special sign from God?
How easily I could have claimed God sent me a message, right there in my inbox. Finally! I’ll go pastor somewhere my family doesn’t have to use food stamps and Medicaid for survival. Thank you Jesus!

If you go looking for it, you’ll always find that “greener grass” on the other side of some fence. I spent last Tuesday morning praying about my family’s finances. I told God he had to do something to cover the extra expenses we’re incurring as we expect our second child in only a few days.
Maybe I could pastor somewhere else, where I don’t have beg God for money.
Kelly checked the mail Tuesday afternoon. She found a letter from the state of Kansas. They tracked us down even though we changed addresses twice. We have $320 in unclaimed property from the state.
And I heard my Good Shepherd remind me of Psalm 23….”He makes me lie down in green pastures.”

I need not search for greener grass on the other side of a fence. That’s God’s job. Jesus is my Good Shepherd. He will always lead me to green pastures. I need only follow his voice.
Jesus led me to pastor a church that now looks as diverse as our community. Jesus led me to a church building that now houses 3 other churches (soon to be 4), a funeral home that serves poor families, and an incomplete gym that serves thousands of meals to needy children each summer.
Jesus hasn’t mistakenly led me to the wrong pasture. I am exactly where he wants me, doing exactly what he intended. He knows our financial situation and will always provide what we need. He knows our building is leaking from that rainstorm He sent this morning. He knows the difficulties of continually serving poor people who can’t afford to repay us. My Shepherd is Good. He knows what he’s doing. I trust in the One who gave his life for me. And I will live in this green pasture until he leads me out of it.

As I type these very words, another homeless man’s clothes just finished the spin cycle in our donated washer. Jesus is calling me from the laundry room, “Go start another load.”

“I heard the voice of Jesus say,
“Come unto me and rest;
lay down, O weary one, lay down
your head upon my breast.”
I came to Jesus as I was,
so weary, worn, and sad;
I found him in a resting place,
and he has made me glad.”
— “I Heard The Voice of Jesus Say” 1846 Horatius Bonar

Whites Were Minorities At My Church Sunday

I’m a white pastor. As I spent years in undergrad and graduate school preparing to be a pastor, I generally had the mindset of a typical white middle-class male. I grew up in a wonderful white middle-class church and always assumed I would serve in a church similar to my upbringing.
I usually ignored discussions and learning opportunities in school about multicultural ministry. I (thought I) recognized how important those issues were. But I didn’t think they applied to my future context. I assumed I’d serve at a church where most everybody looked like me. I’d be a pastor who welcomed everyone, but I wouldn’t actively seek to pastor a multicultural church.

Then…Jesus called me to pastor a historically white church in, what is now, a very diverse community.

For 3 years, I’ve been praying our Sunday morning services would “look” as diverse as our community. I’ve never had an agenda to become a multicultural/multiethnic church. My agenda was that we look like our community, which happens to be multicultural/multiethnic.

I’ve made decisions as a pastor that would actively push us towards greater diversity, including: 1) deciding against selling our our building to find a new location and 2) moving my family into the neighborhood.

When I noticed our white members weren’t interacting as much as I hoped with our non-white guests, I brought in round tables and forced people to sit across from each other during service. One Sunday each month, we do nothing but eat breakfast together. I creatively called this breakfast time on Sunday “Breakfast Sunday.” We’re a diverse bunch, but not the most creative. Creative types, come join us!

When I noticed our veteran members couldn’t remember the names of our newer members, I started inviting people to speak up with prayer requests, praises, answers to questions during sermons, etc. Each time I call on a person to share, I say their name. When they finish speaking, I thank them and say their name again.

I regularly talk about race. I keep reminding our people I don’t have plans on leaving.

I’m fighting hard to create a sense of community in our increasingly diverse church. Some people don’t care for the tables. Some feel uncomfortable when I say I plan on being here 20 years. Some don’t care for the breakfasts, and a pastor who can’t say anyone’s name just once. But these things seem to be working.

*Note: I believe God gave me all these ideas, which could be why they are working for us. They might be awful ideas for your church if Jesus doesn’t lead you to do them. *

The journey to change has been long and, at times, painful. For some people, the changes were more than they could bear. It often felt like more than my wife and I could bear. I praise God for good Christian counseling. Several people recommended I quit. I turned down two other ministry positions and refused to put out my resume to other churches.

I wasn’t trying to be a martyr. I just believed I was exactly where God wanted me. I thought it would be a sin for me to leave. I still believe that. In fact, I think God wants me to stay here for at least another 20 years. We’ll see if I heard him correctly regarding the timeline.

Last Sunday, we hit a milestone that’s been 3 years in the making…whites were a minority at church last Sunday. Ok, it was only by 1. But still, they were a minority. More non-white people attended our worship service than white people.

The children attending our church’s summer day camp and the volunteer teens running it with me are almost 100% non-white — predominantly African-American.

Our congregation now shares our building with two Black churches and one Korean church. A funeral home, owned by a Latino man, now resides within one corner of our church building. Mr. Garcia provides funeral services to everyone, regardless of their ability to pay. This has become a valuable resource to poor families in our community.

My wife, our son, and I live in the house on our church property (called a “Parsonage”). Almost every single neighbor on our street is African-American. A family from Kenya just moved into the tri-plex across the street.

Well-meaning people told me to buy a gun before moving in. I did not. Instead, I almost cleaned out our savings to renovate and furnish the Parsonage. I was happy to show our church and our community we weren’t going anywhere. We’re committed to this church and to this neighborhood. And we’re not afraid to live here. Besides, why would I be afraid to live on the same street with fellow church members and people I call friends?

Many of our neighbors live in Section 8 duplexes and/or receive housing vouchers.  Although God has provided above and beyond what we need, we, too, have learned the unique challenges of being on government assistance in our country.

As I walked the dog this morning at the park by our church, I passed other walkers who were either Black or from India. I’ve even been working with two others on a plan to use our church building as the location for an Indian church. The first Spanish-speaking church we planted now meets 25 minutes away. We’ve been praying for the last 3 months how we can, once again, serve our Spanish-speaking neighbors.

For me, following Jesus led us to a place I never would have imagined, trying my best to serve people who have experienced things I will never understand. Jesus usually leads us to places we wouldn’t pick for ourselves.

I don’t know how to solve the racial, poverty, and immigration issues in our country. But I do know that following Jesus down this path, where I live among and serve people who don’t look like me, has changed me for the better.

“Trust and obey,

For there’s no other way

To be happy in Jesus,

But to trust and obey.”