We all make lots of mistakes–don’t we? I think one of our most frequent failures is to think of worship as something reserved only for Sundays, when it actually should be our lifestyle. I was reminded of this recently when I read the following article by Deidra Riggs, entitled “In The Middle of It All”. By the time I finished I felt like doing a little shouting myself!

I was face to face with my image in the mirror, mascara wand in hand, mouth open and eyebrows raised – the pose I strike when it’s time for mascara. There, in that dignified pose before my bathroom mirror, a song popped into my head. “Don’t wait ‘til the battle is over – shout now!” the lyrics challenged, and I could hear the drumbeat in my mind.

Shout. As in, get happy. Or better yet, get your praise on. The way we did on Sunday mornings when we managed for a moment to truly lay our burdens down. On those Sunday mornings, I’d sit on the front pew, all the way over to the right. Next to the window.

Women in furs, wide-brimmed hats, silk stockings, and rich perfume fanned themselves with colorful Japanese hand fans. Sometimes they’d snap those fans shut when the preaching got good. They would stand to their feet and they’d jab the fans into the air to punctuate their shouts of “Amen!” or “Hallelujah!” Other times, they’d just keep fanning as they swayed back and forth, whispering with eyes closed shut, “Yes, Lord,” or “Thank you, Jesus.”

Men in three-piece suits with flashy ties, pocket squares, and cuff-links that glittered in the sunlight would lean forward with their elbows on their knees and spur the preacher on. “All right, now!” they’d shout. They’d elbow one another and nod in agreement.

The preacher’s voice would ease into a spirited cadence and his words would become a poem. The pianist would find notes and lay down a paisley carpet beneath those words, and the sermon would become a duet, with the congregation shouting out “Amen!” in unison, at the end of each stanza.

By now, we’d all be on our feet. The preacher would have long since come out from behind the pulpit and down into the aisle, worshipping right along with us, letting our attention shift from him to where it belonged.

I remember, on one of those Sunday mornings, I caught a glimpse of a woman in the choir whose son was sitting in a jailhouse. She was waiting to hear if he’d ever come home. Standing tall, she lifted her hands toward heaven and shouted out her praise.

Another Sunday I watched a man bent over. The hands of fellow worshippers rested on the outline of shoulder blades that stood like rough edges beneath his designer jacket. Before the year was over, his body would surrender to the virus that had taken hold. But on this day, he sang praises to God in a voice that must have been a gift straight from heaven to this earth.

This was what they meant when they sang those words: “Don’t wait ‘til the battle is over – shout now!”

I lowered the mascara wand and leaned heavy on the edge of the bathroom sink, remembering my helpless cries to God from the night before. I’d taken up three pages in my journal with questions about why and for how long and will it ever change? And here, in the freshness of a brand new day, the memory of this song dropped in my mind.

I shook my head as I remembered that mother’s son, who had stayed in the jailhouse much longer than we’d hoped. I breathed heavily, remembering we’d buried that man with the beautiful voice, long before he had lived his life. I thought of their praises, in the middle of it all. Then I gazed back at myself in the mirror. Putting on mascara would be pointless. My own praise was welling up the way it had with Jeremiah, and I wished I had a Japanese fan to raise into the air.

Instead, I found an easy cadence that matched the drumbeat I still heard in my mind. My head bobbed slightly to the beat and I gently swayed from side to side. I joined my raspy little voice with the song that ran freely in my head: “Don’t wait ‘til the battle is over – shout now!”

In that moment, it didn’t really matter why or how-long or will-it-ever-change. What mattered was getting my praise on, right there in my bathroom. Smack dab in the middle of it all. ( From “The High Calling”) —-THINK ABOUT IT!

THINK ABOUT IT 3/28/11

Note: This is the latest post on the Pastor’s blog. For others go to our website.

Few people today understand the value of hospitality. To most people it sounds antiquated in our modern society. The fact of the matter is that it is not only needed, it is commanded by God. That makes it of great importance. But we need to understand what it is.

Hospitality is more than “puttin-on-the-dog” for a few special friends, or killing time with your family. As one person said,” Hospitality is much more than exotic menus, elegant table settings and decorations, and fancy entertainment. It is sharing what you have and who you are in Jesus with the people God brings your way.” So, is that what you’re doing?

Although hospitality is the duty of every Christian, very few put it into practice. Those who do think about it usually do so from the receiving end, rather the giving end. In other words, they enjoy others being kind to them, but they have no concern about doing the same for others. In their mad-dash for fleshly gratification they never give any serious thought to helping others. Thankfully there are a few exceptions, and they make a big difference!

We have one family in the church that shows hospitality on a regular basis. It is common for them to invite church guest out to dinner or into their home for a meal. They also volunteer to provide lodging for preachers and others in need of a room. These folks are not retired–they have a busy schedule, much more so than many, but they always find some way to show hospitality. They are determined to be a blessing and they are.

I have often wondered what might happen if every member of the church did what they do. I think we would be amazed, and in need of more space! I’ve often said, “People aren’t just looking for a friendly church, they are looking for friends.” They might attend a lot of churches, but they attach themselves to the church where they make a connection.

Like it or not, things are not like they used to be. There was a time when good preaching and great music would grow a church, but that’s not the case today. Today you could have the Temple choir providing the music and the apostle Paul preaching, and most people still would not come. However, when they connect with members of the congregation they are there to stay. A team of wild horses couldn’t tear them away. They want and need friends. When they find them they get involved.

If every family did what this one family does I’m convinced that our church would grow at a rate never imagined. Even if it didn’t, we are still commanded to do it. If you’ve lost the thrill and excitment of being a member of the Lord’s church, force yourself out of your comfort zone, put the needs of others ahead of your own, and be a friend to someone in need. Then watch what God does! Think about it.

I’ve been “Out of pocket” the last few days –no Morning Manna, etc., but it was for a good reason. Yesterday Bev and I celebrated our 51st anniversary. As I told her, I am more proud of that than anything I (We) have ever achieved. All of the trophies, news paper clippings, etc. etc. from the past are totally meaningless in comparsion to this. This is tops on my list.

Notice that I used the word “achieved”–I did so for a reason. Lasting marriages don’t just happen. They are the result of hard work. A lasting marriage takes committment from both the husband and the wife. I could write a book on that, not as an expert, but from the stand point of experience. Regardless of how wonderful your spouse is it takes nothing short of a miracle for a marriage to last half a century. It takes the grace of God!

As I look back over the years I think of the many difficulties we encountered, and of the many wonderful blessings we experienced, and of the many great things God has done. Without Him we had no chance of making it.

But as grateful as I am toward God, I am also very thankful for Bev. God worked the miracles, but she allowed Him to work in our lives so as to make our marriage last. If you only knew!No one, not even our eight children, has any idea what she has been through. I am so glad that she has put up with all my faults and failures for all these years. No man could ever hope for anything more! I love her today more than ever. She has stood with me through thick and thin. She has forgiven me when I couldn’t forgive myself, and she has helped me when I couldn’t help myself. She is my biggest helper, my best friend, and my greatest earthly treasure. No man, no pastor, could ever hope for a better wife than she has been to me. So, when you think–“Wow! 51 years. That’s amazing”. She deserves all the credit. Without her love, forgiveness, hard work, and prayers it could have never happened. 51 years–THINK ABOUT IT!