Foursquare Convention: May 2008
The weeks since I last journaled have been full, but not hectic. Two meaningful things happened between my trip to Europe in late April and this journey to Houston for our annual Foursquare Convention. I’ll say more about the convention in later days, but I’ll start this entry with news that Brenda Miller, my former assistant, drove me to the airport. She had me drive her car so she could take notes and pick my brain about the upcoming trip she, Pamela, Judy Gonzales and Lynne Starr will be taking around the world—with key stops in Stara Zagora (Bulgaria), Shenzhen (China) and Perth (Australia).
I still pinch myself periodically at the realization that I have friends—good friends—in many parts of the world. These are people and ministries with whom I have spent lots of time. What a thrill to be part of God’s unfolding story as it plays out in the lives of so many men and women who just keep at it—despite the cost, pain and disappointments that are so inevitable in this thing we call ministry! Over and over, I find myself with a very simple goal as I travel to visit ministers world-wide: “Let me encourage them, Lord, and be a bringer of good news to their situations!”
Everyone in ministry can use a bit of good news.
District Training
Within 8 hours of returning from Europe, I flew back East to Baltimore (where I took Lorrel to dinner), and then drove to Hanover, Pennsylvania where I met with my District Council. The District Council consists of my six Divisional Superintendents (including their wives) and a few others. We spent the bulk of the day going over financial and administrative matters, but more importantly, working to get on the same page in our vision for the district.
A supervisor—that would be me, in this case—must be careful, I believe, not to impose his or her ministry perspectives on the churches and/or leaders in the district. In Foursquare, we grant tremendous liberty to local pastors to pursue the vision God gives them—and in the style they feel most comfortable with. We’ve got some very different churches with perspectives, values, priorities and worship styles that differ markedly from one another.
I want to grant each pastor lots of liberty. On the other hand, our churches back East are struggling. For the most part, they have been unable to grow very big (most average 40-90 people), and they have not been able to inspire/engage additional leaders to help care for their members—or to consider planting additional churches. So, I have a responsibility to prod these pastors in directions they have not considered going up to this point.
But, when introducing new ideas and ministry concepts, the problem is always that people (pastors) unintentionally resist doing or thinking in new ways. It’s not that anyone wants to resist or intentionally obstruct anything.
If a “new” idea has already occurred to someone, they would have been doing it; if that “new” concept has not yet made sense to them, they tend to resist it when someone else suggests it. That is human nature. Rather than try a new way of thinking/doing, pastors trust that time will ultimately bring about the changes they’re hoping for. I am a skeptic when it comes to time. I think time usually erodes, rather than builds.
I have tried to introduce a key discipling component into our structure: instead of assigning pastors to a geographic division, I have instituted affinity groupings. My reasoning is that pastors need and want to be mentored, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they feel a desire to be mentored by a divisional leader who happens to be near to them on a map. I think pastors will avail themselves to more input from district elders if they can choose which superintendent they want as their coach.
However, the pastors and superintendents do not necessarily know one another well. Consequently, I’ve asked the superintendents to reach out intentionally to the pastors—perhaps inviting different ones of them for coffee, conversation, etc. That means the superintendents must “go first” and take the initiative. That is uncomfortable, and some of my superintendents felt like they would be competing with fellow superintendents, in their quest to draw pastors into their care. I used an unfortunate choice of words a couple of months go when I encouraged the superintendents to “recruit their dream team.”
Perhaps that’s where the competitive idea originated. But at the council meeting, I was able to present the theology behind the concept: discipleship is a proactive activity that starts with some kind of selection. We are the “chosen” people; we did not choose Jesus, but He chose us first; He has chosen us that we might bear fruit; etc. “Choosing others” is one of the most profound—yet most neglected—tools in our spiritual arsenal.
I suppose I should not be surprised—after so many years in the ministry—that I still discover leaders whose whole concept of leadership begins and ends with an event or a group of people. Intentional, one-on-one discipleship is a rare occurrence in the church. My firm conviction—one that is not shared by the majority of church leaders I know—is that we can trace the obvious lack of leaders within our churches to a lack of intentional, determined disciple-making.
Two weeks ago I had the second opportunity to preach at Coastlands (since I stepped down as senior pastor on Christmas Day, 2006). Though it was somewhat strange to feel both very comfortable like a long-term pastor and nervous like a guest-speaker, I had a blast. I know it is no longer the assignment Jesus has for me, but it felt good to teach the congregation of people I have loved for so many years. Seeing the eager faces almost brought me to tears. There was, for us all, a heightened sense of excitement.
I remembered one of my favorite aspects of getting to teach new lessons each week. I loved to deliver the sermons and the teachings—not just because I’m super-fulfilled doing so. Beyond the dynamic of what others learned through the years, preaching carries one great advantage for the preacher: we get to testify with our lips about the things of God. There is such power in the spoken word. Despite the fact that some segments of the church have carried that truth to legalistic extremes, it is still a life-giving principle for our lives.
When I speak God’s truth aloud, something extra happens to my faith. I hear His word. I hear His truth from my own lips, and each utterance from my mouth acts like a mallet pounding a stretched-forth tent stake deeper into the soil of my soul. True, people can be hypocrites, merely speaking with their lips something they neither believe nor intend to practice. But for sincere believers, speaking God’s word aloud is one of the most settling and securing spiritual activities we can practice.
In fact, that’s much of what it’s like: practice, working-out, exercising, developing muscle-memory.
Missions Reception
The day ended with a farewell dinner for Mike Larkin, outgoing director of FMI. I was delightd to see so many good friends from around the world, and I received several invitations to do leaders’ conferences –including in Mexico and Chile. Wow, maybe things south of the US border will open for me and CTW…
I love Convention each year because of all the opportunity we have to catch up with friends and peers in ministry that we haven’t seen in a long time. While in Dallas waiting for my short flight to Houston, I had a chance to speak with Devi Titus who, along with her husband, is always so kind and encouraging to me. She is a member of the International Board, and one of those people who has an expansive vision for what church could and should be. I offered to share a taxi with her to get to the hotel once we arrived in Houston, so we had more time than usual to chat about things. She made a few observations that were a total confirmation to a growing perspective I have about things (sorry to sound so vague).
I also had a great conversation with another long-time friend, Lee Schnabel, soon-to-be missionary (again) in Chile. He has gone through very similar experiences, especially recently, that acted as yet another confirmation that I’m not crazy—at least about the stuff stirring in my soul. The story is (as usual) too long and too complicated to tell. But oh, so interesting!
Monday continued that sort of divine appointment to encourage me in the place I find myself these days. I had breakfast with Volker (Switzerland), Mitko and Vania (Bulgaria). Afterwards I met with John-Henry (Norway), and he, too, was very helpful. The few others I chatted with are not names most of you would know, but by the time I had dinner with David and Beth Reid, who live in Houston, I didn’t think the day could get more interesting. It did—not just the fun of catching up on David and Beth, but also some others I saw and spoke to while we were eating.
The team for CTW is doing such a great job: Sally and Patrice, Alex and Judy are sooooo good talking with people and pastors. We’ve got a whole ministry thing going on with all the people who stop by. I must have talked with half a dozen pastors who have been blasted by Jezebel and/or people trying to knock them out of ministry. Again–oh so interesting…
Gotta run…
The schedule of events and conversations at Convention are…full. But I love seeing and talking with so many men and women whose lives I have intersected these past many years. Some of the connections have been brief, small and inconsequential as far as the world might describe them, but many times it’s the little things, spoken in a hallway or after a session, that lead to the big changes in people’s lives. I had half a dozen conversations with pastors who told me about some incident, message, comment, prophetic word, etc. that altered their life course. It’s hugely encouraging and humbling.
Perhaps that is one of the real tests of our journey with Jesus through the years: can we keep going long enough—doing the little things that do not, at the time, seem like much—until such times many years later when those tiny acts or words have borne fruit in the lives of others; but then, when we receive large thank-you’s from people (that seem so out of proportion with what we have done in the past) are we quick to give the thanks back to Jesus?
I wonder, sometimes, if we end up with fruit like this, only in proportion to the cuts and bruises we’re willing to endure in our heart? I think of picking wild blackberries many, many years ago. The ripe ones on the edge of the big patch of vines are easy to pick and put in the basket. The far ones, those that are deep in the berry bramble can’t be had except we stick our whole arm in –and stretch—to pluck them. Inevitably, we end up with an arm-full of scrapes and cuts, but also a basket of berries for our pie.
This convention, I have a huge basket…and I think, perhaps, that explains the cuts both old and new on my heart.
Gotta run…
The CTW booth has had lots and lots of visitors this year. Sally has done such a fantastic job stewarding everything about our presentation—selecting which resources to bring, arranging for the display to be shipped here, picking a killer team, and creating an atmosphere of concerned compassion and welcome for the many pastors who visit. It’s like a standing counseling center. Story after story of leaders who need encouragement to keep going. Pastors who need understanding. Etc.
The cannot-miss-what-God-is-saying breakthrough this year is among Spanish-speaking pastors. Alex is using his rusty, secular Spanish to communicate with National leaders and key pastors who stop by. The response to the soon-to-be-printed Spanish translation of Enjoying Your Journey with God has been staggering! I believe this Convention signals yet another expansion and shift for CTW and the stuff I do. I have a strong feeling I’ll be in several Latin countries in 2009.
The other biggie for me has been the number of meaningful exchanges I’ve been able to have with younger pastors. Two such guys, who live/minister in different parts of the country, told me separately that they chose to enter the ministry at one of the old GenXchanges several years ago. These are guys whose ministry-scope is already well-known. Probably a half-dozen others have, at different times, blamed/credited me with their entry into ministry—thus fulfilling my oft-stated and long-held ambition to “ruin young adults for secular employment.”
I have invited fifteen 30-something’s senior pastors for a get-together at CrossPointe this September. We’re going to talk together and form close relationships with one another, so that these guys will have dynamic peer-relationships to encourage them in the decades ahead. I’m a little taken aback by just how excited they are about it. Next April, the guys will bring their wives, and the fifteen couples will, I hope, become fast friends-for-life.
Lastly, I would say this Convention has presented me with the starkest, most poignant contrast between the joys and sorrows of pastoral ministry. Great joy and deep sorrow. Loyalty and betrayal. Good fruit that is producing new orchards, and rotten fruit that tries to infect other pieces. Appreciation and disdain. Affirmation and appreciation from those who have been helped; suspicion and slander from others.
Gotta run…
Thursday was the final day of Convention, and it was as full as all the other days. From the moment I went to the breakfast area (after another 50-minute walk around Houston before the sun was up) I found myself in meaningful conversations with pastors from all over the US…and the world. It still amazes me that some of my closest associates and friends in ministry come from other countries.
Between breakfast and when the whole gang went to get Bar-B-Q with Dave and Beth Reid (and their kids, Fiona and Chris), the day was a blur. The one exception to that continuous picture was a conversation Michael Martinez and I had with a pastor who had significant misconceptions about some situations. It did not take long for this man to realize he had heard only a small portion of a much larger story. I do not know what he will do with the new information, but I felt quite satisfied that there was nothing more I could do to clarify the matter.
I can just say (again) that this Convention has been one of the most satisfying and most troubling of all the ones I have attended through the years.
On Friday I took another early morning walk through downtown Houston, grabbed a muffin and some fruit for an early breakfast (as soon as the breakfast area was open at 6:30am), and spent the whole day in my room working on a zillion things that had piled up over the previous few days. Emails, calendar items, projects, etc. I did take a break at lunch to walk around a bit more. But the afternoon disappeared just as the morning had—with me at the hotel room desk working at my computer.
I had dinner at an Italian Chophouse where they combine Italian cuisine with Texas steakhouse cuisine. I simply had lasagna. I enjoyed sitting outside eating my dinner and reading the paperback I had picked up at the airport in San Jose. I finished both my meal and my book in a couple hours, walked back to the hotel and watched the last of the basketball game.
Saturday was a blast! My old room-mate from college, Joe Holzer, picked me up at the hotel in his jaguar. Joe is an attorney here in Houston, and we have been planning this reunion for many years—except I never travel through Houston, and he never makes it to Santa Cruz. It was quite a kick seeing such a good friend after 25 years. The last time I saw him was at his wedding when he and Vicky tied the knot. Wow! They have two kids in college and I have four out of college. Where does the time go?
Joe looks just like he did long ago—except for a bit of grey around the edges. I was flooded with a million memories of our days gardening at Dr. Lands estate, of our old apartment on Barrington and of some of the pranks we did in the dorms. We drove to his house where I renewed acquaintance with Vicki and chatted and laughed—so comfortably. Isn’t it an amazing thing how we can pick up with old friends like we have never been apart? Few things in life taste sweeter.
Joe and Vicki own several rental houses and apartment buildings, so we spent the afternoon fixing and repairing several issues at a number of the units. It was just like old times! I’m still no good with tools, and Joe is amazing. I can only describe his ability to fix anything by saying he would give McGiver a run for his money. Joe has the uncanny ability to figure out how things work—the underlying processes and mechanisms—and seeing options for how they could be made to work again.
Gas lines that needed pressure testing, air-conditioning units that had frozen up, doors that had to be hung, etc., etc. He does them all. Even though all these rental properties will be a great retirement nest-egg, I think Joe owns them because he enjoys tinkering around and fixing things. He claims his hobbies are drag racing (his car exceeds 200 mph) and endurance horse racing, but the real hobby of his soul is fixing things without manuals or instructions. A broken whatever is like a personal challenge to him.
The highlight of the day—except, of course just being with Joe after so many years—came when we had to cut a quarter inch off both of the standard-width doors we were installing as a set of double doors. Joe’s truck is piled high—and in no particular order—with tools, parts, items, machines, etc. The good news is that his SUV holds everything an electrician, plumber or carpenter could need. The bad news is that none of them could actually find what they need in the piles of stuff that fill the truck.
He did produce a skill saw from beneath the heap. But he was concerned that it might not be as good as the other skill saw (which he also pulled from the back of the Suburban like a magician retrieving a rabbit from his hat. I noticed that the power cords to both saws had been cut (in half) and repaired. The closer I examined this phenomenon, the more I realized that they we cut in exactly the same place. That’s when I concluded that much of Joe’s uncanny ability to fix things is due to lots and lots of necessary practice!
We decided that Texas Bar-B-Q was the best option for dinner. I was so happy because we cannot get that kind of food in California. The place we went was as authentic as they come. It was fantastic! And how fun to know Vicki better as a result of a simple day and happy conversation.
My final day in Houston found me traveling to Tombull, Texas about 40 miles north, where Dave and Beth Reid live and are helping start a church. Joe and Vicki kindly agreed to drive me there and back. It turns out that the little coffee shop the church rents for its Sunday morning meetings is right across the street from the tackle shop where Vicki buys most of her saddles, etc. for their many horses. She even hazarded a guess that it might be the place before we arrived, so it was quite funny to discover that was the case.
Because it really is a coffee shop (a la Starbucks), the three people who reached the doors before us peeked inside, quickly surmised that something other than coffee was brewing, and walked away. Joe, Vicki and I entered, met Dave and Beth and Les (the pastor, who visited me several months ago in Santa Cruz), and found the coffee—plus doughnuts. I broke down in all my resolve to shun those tasty morsels. We enjoyed the coffee and doughnuts. After chatting awhile, it was time for service to begin…
Poor Joe and Vicki had to accompany me toward the front of the room; I explained some of the likely differences they would notice between a Pentecostal church like “The Journey” (the church’s trade-name) and the Presbyterian church they had attended some years ago. As is normally the case when I travel, I knew about half the songs; I don’t think Joe or Vicki knew any of them, but Vicki can catch on to a tune fairly quickly…Joe has never laid claim to extraordinary musical abilities—another trait we share.
The highlight of the service, as far as I was concerned, was watching Bethany and Fiona (her daughter) sing one of the songs Beth wrote years ago when she led the fledgling worship team at Coastlands. Their voices blended so beautifully, and I was hard-pressed to decide if I wanted to close my eyes and be transported twenty years back in time when Beth first sang that song—or, if I wanted to delight in what I was seeing today of a mother and daughter sharing the joy of sharing Jesus’ truth with others. Today won out!
Even though Vicki had commented that one of the things she liked about the minister who used to lead the Presbyterian church was his brief messages, I had warned her I could not even say “Hello” in the 20-minutes to which he apparently had confined his messages. When David introduced me, he said many kind things about our long-term relationship, even mentioning that I had dedicated Fiona as a baby. When all is said at the end of the day, what could be better than knowing our lives have intersected and connected with others?
What a perfect segue to the afternoon with Joe and Vicki. Joe and I started rooming together in 1970 during my freshman year (his sophomore year) at Rieber Hall dorm at UCLA. It was just like old times—except we both move a bit slower. We spent the afternoon fixing various problems at some of his rental properties; actually, I held the tools and did the clean-up while he figured out how to fix an amazing variety of mechanical problems. We finished off the day with dinner at a Mexican restaurant, but we were both so tired we went back to the house, where I met their son Lewis, and went off to bed.
It was fun to tell Lewis that his father really had been his age once, long ago…
As I have thought several times in my life, we cannot make new old friends…and the number of old friends is an ever-decreasing one. Joe and I decided we shouldn’t wait another 25 years before we see each other again. I guess it happens, though, without an intentional plan to see someone—as opposed to seeing what happens and hoping for something to work out, time slips by so quickly. At least we were able to pick right up where we left off, reconnecting in a way that was a treat for us both.
