John Mark Hicks has begun a new series at his blog about his further thoughts on Christians’ time in communion together since he wrote the landmark book Come to the Table.

I usually put a <target=”_blank”> tag in my links that opens a new window to those links so you can come back here easily. I haven’t done that here. Just click on any one of the links above and don’t waste any more of your time coming back here; you’ll be blessed for it.

The first post in his series is his prioritized wish list for table time with the Lord each week. It would take a sea change in many fellowships to make even a few of these wishes come true, but it would be worth it.

I was very disagreeable with John Mark Hicks earlier this year because I had a mistaken impression that he was describing in his book what he felt was the only way to celebrate the Lord’s Supper. After his gracious replies and a more careful re-reading of the work, I can’t imagine how I formed it. If anything, he seeks to restore the original spirit of the original table, and suggests ways – mechanics if you must call them that – to achieve it. I said “ways.” I think my mistake was to presume that they would all have to be implemented, and there is no such wording beyond a wistful hope – and that hope is one that I have largely come to share.

What are you doing still reading this drivel?

Did I not give you clear links?

I love my new job. I don’t think I have ever loved a job before like I love this job.

But today was one crazy day!

We’ll ordain 29 new deacons a week from Sunday, and I’ve been trying to get ahead of the game by designing an order-of-worship sheet that features full-color pictures of all the candidates and their families (who are also making a big commitment!). I pulled a proof two weeks ago of it, and haven’t been able to convince the color copier/printer to do another color duplex since.

I needed it to do lots more than one today, so we could have copies of the new Seniors Class (retired folks) newsletter ready to hand out at the Open House – a grand opening event – for our brand new Family Life Center this Sunday evening.

We had to settle for printing them in black and white on a different copier/printer.

My worship planning team for this month (who are usually weeks ahead of the game) had last-minute changes and a surprise today as I assembled the worship visuals and hymn slides for Sunday. They had created a lovely PowerPoint timed to the song Let Us Be You from the new ZOE Group CD, In Christ Alone. Unfortunately, our worship software (EasyWorship) doesn’t import and play embedded sound from PowerPoints. So I cobbled together a quick solution: queue up the song in Windows Media Player and then click the PowerPoint to go live.

The person who has been running the worship software during both Sunday morning services and the evening service for years asked this week to be replaced, but graciously agreed to continue through the end of the month.

Then people kept dying. Actually they died earlier in the week, but we just heard about two of them late today, and I wanted to get their information into the order of worship sheet, which I had held off printing until getting confirmation on all the worship leaders. Fortunately, this week’s order-of-worship only needed to be done on the black-and-white copier/printer. (We had trouble with it earlier in the week. I suggested either an exorcism or laying our hands on it in prayer before I ran the 1,054 copies of the church bulletin!)

Did I mention that it all had to be done tonight, because my family and I are leaving town with another family of dear friends tomorrow morning to go see a Christmas dinner show in Branson, Missouri? We’ve been talking with them about doing it for years, and now that we’ve finally committed to it, it’s on the weekend when at least one something is so likely to go wrong.

Will I have faith to get in the car and go tomorrow, and trust God’s hand to work His will in my absence? Yeah.

Will I fret about it most of the way up there, while there, and back? Probably.

Will I ever learn to turn things like this completely over to God and stop worrying about them? I hope so.

But the crazy days make it harder!

There are those who make fun of twelve-step programs. My guess is that they haven’t tried one, or haven’t felt they needed to try one.

Some decry them because so many of them express an unabashed faith in God.

Others would say that their biblical five-step program should be good enough for anyone – you know: hear, believe, repent, confess, be baptized and the occasional vocal proponent of remain faithful.

The original twelve-step program, as nearly as I can tell, is that of Alcoholics Anonymous, and I think you’d find by clicking the link that it’s pretty biblical, too. I wouldn’t be the first person to suggest substituting “sin” for “alcohol” and “fellow-sinner” for “alcoholic” in its wording and having a pretty reliable set of guidelines for living a more Christ-like life.

But I did suggest it at a meeting that began at 7:00 this morning of ministry staffers and elders who meet to cast a vision for our church. We’re pretty adept at painting the challenge: creating a more accessible environment for those who are new to our church and new to faith in Christ.

We’re in a wealthy part of town. We’re mostly white. We don’t look like sinners. But looks can be deceiving, and they are in this case. We sin like everybody else.

What’s difficult is meeting the challenge: finding ways to be transparent, and encourage transparency. Being willing to admit we’re all messups – just messups who have been willing for Jesus to let our guilt be nailed to His cross with Him.

And be willing to make amends where we can. It’s not a tough concept, and each of us has a story about how it is happening in our lives.

Since our fellowship is a little edgy about the concept of “testimony,” I suggested calling it what it really is: the ongoing Story of Christ. It’s not really our story, but His; about Him working in our lives. It’s not like His Story begins or ends between the covers of our Bibles; that’s just as much of it as He chooses to reveal in a biblical way.

And who can resist taking in a good Story?

Every person who comes to an A.A. meeting – C.E.O. or gutter-dwelling wino – eventually shares his or hers. They share a personal truth about who they are and why and how long or short they’ve been dry. They depend on each other for support. They are accountable to each other. They care … sometimes to extraordinary extremes.

Because each one of them has experienced the hell-on-earth of alcoholism, wants to be free of it, and to help others be free of it.

At my preaching minister’s request, I’m going to provide to all of us Tuesday-morning visionaries a copy of the twelve steps of AA as a starting place for discussion of methodology.

It’s not a complete answer – but it’s a good start.

I don’t know why I ever changed my template.

I’ve always liked this one, and the newer one made people work too hard to get to the links that are perfectly visible at the sidebar in this one.

Sometimes a design that works fine for your personal site just doesn’t work nearly as well for your blog, and that was true of the newer one.

Besides, it was bombing some folks’ browsers, and that’s not very hospitable.

So it’s back to the old.

The old skin was better.

This morning the Bible class I’m in had a whirlwind tour of several Old Testament prophets, brilliantly led by teacher/elder Steve Stevens.

One of them was Jonah, and in hitting the highlights of the book, it struck me funny that the penitent Ninevites not only repented in sackcloth and ashes, but dressed up their animals and cattle that way as well. So when God closes His explanation for saving them to Jonah, He says: “Shouldn’t I be concerned about Ninevah? I have 120,000 people there who don’t know their left hand from their right … not to mention all those cows!”

That, on the heels of (previous post) recalling the words of Jesus in Matthew 23 for those who tithed their herbs but neglected justice, mercy, and faithfulness: “You blind guides! You strain out a gnat and swallow a camel!”

Now there’s a couple of mental pictures.

Then there’s that small camel joke Jesus makes after the rich young man walks away, even after seeing such love in His eyes: “It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.” That’s the kind of joke that just goes right through your heart, though. It must have been told through tears as the young man walked away … an attempt to lift the mood and communicate truth at the same time. Not a knee-slapper.

But some of God’s one-liners are truly a hoot.

Have any favorite ones?

The church I attend gets “written up” rather frequently in the bulletin of a neighboring church which – though its name includes “Church of Christ” – might not necessarily include us in that fellowship.

We don’t do everything right, you see. We have a brand new Family Life Center which cost a lot of money, money that could have been spent feeding the hungry and caring for the poor. We collect food and clothing and necessities and sometimes distribute them through organizations that are not churches, even though they are connected with Churches of Christ. We open our church building to seminars and meetings not necessarily conducted by church members, such as a recent one to help those grieving the loss of family members.

In the article of our neighboring church’s bulletin (I’d point you to it online, but their site is down half the time and when it’s up it’s usually several months out-of-date) upbraiding us for this last sin, a peculiar statement was made: that the Bible alone should be enough comfort and strength and guidance for the grieving.

Really?

Does the Bible take the place of God’s own Spirit mourning with us in our prayers with utterances that words alone cannot express?

Does the Bible take the place of a loving community of church family, enwrapping our grief in its arms and weeping with us and bringing food and flowers and other tokens of shared woe and encouragement when the will to go on is gone?

Does the Bible take the place of God Himself, wiping away our tears in heaven?

Do the Bible’s words of comfort and guidance reach those who are not familiar with them; who don’t know their context or the stories behind them; who do not believe them when they hear them – perhaps because someone has vociferously insisted that the Bible has all the answers when in fact they have encountered many valuable answers outside of the Bible in their lives?

Is the Bible intended to be the one and only panacea for peril, a magical incantation for the relief of suffering and pain and grief, a liturgy of lament that miraculously heals all wounds?

Does God deny the power of helping to psychologists and psychiatrists who have studied medicine, anatomy, chemistry, biology and human behavior? Does He withhold intelligence, caring, skill and capability from those who are unfamiliar with His word?

Will it simply do – as a friend of mine pointed out – to comfort a nine-year-old girl who has lost her mother in a terrible accident by telling her, “Go read your Bible, honey; that’ll make you feel better”?

Certainly there is a place like no other in the believer’s heart for the Bible. But it’s just wrong to try to make it more than it is, or was ever intended to be. It’s the story of God and us. It was never meant to be the book that answers all our questions. It was never meant to be the book that gives us all the rules we must perfectly follow or be written forever out of the Book of Life.

It reveals the Word, but it is not the Word.

That’s a title and role reserved for God’s Son.

So to try to make it the last word on everything is just plain goofy.

Creativity is the most sincere flattery of our Creator – Who, of course, gave it to us like everything else. But our choice to use it to His glory must surely be satisfying to Him.

Last night while my kids were good-naturedly roughhousing and while Angi was reading a draft of UALR’s Strategic Plan, I worked on a logo design for my church’s brand-spanking new Family Life Center. It was fun. I haven’t done that kind of work in years, and it’s satisfying.

Maybe not as satisfying, though, as reading something creative your child has written in school.

So, in honor of the holiday, I present (unedited) a story crafted by my 9-year-old daughter, Laura:

Just as ever one sat down to the Thanks giving tabble, the turkey came a live and it started to eat all the other food unfortunately we did knot have any food left and all the stores where closed so we went to are frieds hous they didnot have any eather and it kept going on and on then the turkey baked something wird but it was very good. The End

Well, there you have it: a modern-day classic with a twist at the end worthy of Rod Serling; a story of sacrifice, resurrection, surprise, gluttony, desperation, hunger, community, social frustration – and redemption.

The penitent turkey baked something weird, but it was very good.

I don’t know what your plans for the holiday are, but chances are they will not include anything like what this epic describes.

We’re not planning to spend a fortune on groceries, cook to excess, travel long distances, gorge ourselves with leftovers, or spend too much time cleaning up. There won’t be quite the same opportunity at our own table at home to wonder if the turkey will come alive and gobble down our feast, leaving us to wander with our neighbors from door to door and at closed, dark grocery stores. Even though we’re blessed to have two world-class chefs in the immediate family, we’re giving Angi and Gran the day off and pursuing a more creative holiday.

We’re going to Cracker Barrel.

Then, after returning home for a tryptophan-inspired doze through the Cowboys game, we just might do something creative together.

Like starting to decorate the house for Christmas.

Thank you, God, for investing and entrusting some of your creativity with us, Your children. May we use it always and only to Your glory.

(And thank you, God, for Cracker Barrel!)

The lurkers, the commenters, the readers, the browsers, the click-pasters and e-pastors; the church members, church seekers, church-sick; elders, deacons, ministers, leaders, followers; friends, acquaintances, and completely-unknown-to-me folks who drop by here for a visit once in a while.

We’re an unusual group, aren’t we?

Every kind of background, gender, color, race, creed or lack thereof. All sorts of points of view on all sorts of matters. But we meet each other here and at other blogs and we interact, commune, agree, disagree, bicker, discuss, praise, decry, consent, assent, and dissent – for the most part, amicably.

We don’t have to agree all the time, or on everything. Most of us agree that Jesus of Nazareth is the living Christ, Lord and Person of the Triune God, and most of the rest of the truly important things we believe are simply details of that core faith. And we’d do whatever we had to do if we could persuade the rest of that one central, foundational, incontrovertible fact.

I’m grateful beyond description for each and every one of you … for the staggered time we’ve spent “together,” for the way you’ve stretched and challenged me, for the kindness and forgiveness you’ve offered.

Thank you, God, for my blogging buddies – and for changing my life for the better through them.

When Hurricane Katrina threatened the Gulf Coast, hundreds of evacuees made their way to Little Rock. The city and FEMA found a residence for many of them at Parris Towers, formerly a retirement home where a limited fire last summer revealed the ineptitude of its management. Shut down by the state, repaired and refurbished – but not refurnished – it was a temporary solution.

Calls for help went out. The people of my church committed to furnishing 40 of the apartments. But the generosity did not stop there. New and good used furniture and appliances and consumable necessities flowed in to take care of more than 80 apartments. Still the giving did not stop.

As of last week, 135 apartments and homes had been furnished and supplied by the family of Christ at my home church. And last Sunday night, many of the folks who have taken up residence at Parris Towers were invited to church and attended, brought in cars from downtown by our members.

Midway through this week, one of them asked our involvement minister if they could come back. Within an hour, we sent 200 flyers to Parris Towers promising an available church van to bring them to 10:30 services and back home.

The people of Parris Towers are the mission field that came to us. The local media took note of our response. No one prayed aloud on a street corner to attract attention to it; no one sent out a press release about it. (Given the humility of my church family, I don’t think they’d have let me if I had suggested it.)

They just opened their hearts and arms and wallets.

Thank you, God, for the openness; the generosity of my city and my church to the people displaced by ravages of nature. Thank you for the opportunity You sent and the empowerment to serve those good people – and You – through it. Now, as we’re called upon to help again with the needs of people moving from hotels to apartments, open our eyes and hearts even wider to the opportunities You provide to live sacrificial lives like our Savior, Your Son.

The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: “God, I thank you that I am not like other men – robbers, evildoers, adulterers – or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.” – Luke 18:11-12

Thank you, God, that even though I am far too often just like this Pharisee You are transforming me into the likeness of the One who told the story about him – the One who takes away my veil of boast and pride and self.

“And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” – II Corinthians 3:18