Ready or not, here I come!

Remember playing hide and seek? You know, where your friend/s would hide as you closed your eyes and counted out loud to ten? At the end of the count you'd call out loud something like this... "ready or not, here I come" - adding to the thrill while warning those hiding that if they weren't ready, they better be because - the count (hiding) is now over. 'Seek' has begun.

Now I have noticed that this phrase is played repeatedly in everyday life. There is a time for counting (preparation), and there is a time for doing. Once doing starts, counting is over - so that we continually find ourselves saying under our breath.... 'ready or not!"

This Sunday will be a 'ready or not' Sunday at Parkwayhills. Students will advance to the next grade, to a new room, in some cases -even - a new hall. As well, many teachers and workers will do the same. Facing new pre-schoolers, children and youth, it will be a day filled with excitement and activity. Yes, after all the preparation, after the planning, the training, and the painting, comes... the doing, 'ready or not!'

When Jesus came to earth it was a a ready or not moment. When He comes again it will be one as well. Are we ready? I pray so, for... ready or not the clock has begun.

"You must also be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect Him." Matt. 24:44

Pastor Sam

21 August 2009

Saturday Afternoon - "The Footstool"

Sometimes I cry when I come to the church - not from sadness but from joy.  I love walking its halls when they are quiet - like today, a Saturday afternoon - and sensing the shadow that is cast by our city as it drives by.  I relish coming into my study, to linger in my room and behind the desk where I've sat since 1994.  But mostly, I pine for walking into our darkened worship center and up the west baptistry stairs to my 'closet', where I pray. There, in this humble room with little decoration at all, I spend time with God.  It is a room 'found' for me by maintenance - an empty closet, really -  and decorated/painted by my friend, Janie Zimmerman. It is simply furnished, and in all this time it has not changed.  I could barely tell you what rests upon its walls - save two pictures of John Wesley and Dwight Moody. But... I can tell you of the stool.  

The stool is an old footstool from my grandparents living room.  I sat on it as a boy, and remember it as a piece of furniture nestled between the chairs of my Mama May and PaPa.  It always held their Bibles, until they sat down, then it would hold me.  I'd sit with them, quietly, listening to their soft, almost muted voices commenting upon scripture and the ways of God, enthralled by the mystery of their faith.  A faith so personal, so close, and so intimate that you could - yes - smell and feel it.  

An impression was made upon me from that old footstool - an impression lasting more than 50 years. So that when I go up to my closet to pray today, I remember.  I remember a faith - first seen in my grandfather and mother, then passed on to my Mom, my Dad, and to me.  And with head bowed and body prone over that same stool, I pray... God move this church by first moving me.  Change me. Make me. Cleanse me from my sin. Let Jesus be seen in me.  And, may Your glory be magnified in this place!  Tomorrow and forever, Amen! 

Pastor Sam 

15 August, 2009

Saturday, August 8, 1948

It was 61 years ago today that my Mom and Dad were married - 08.08.48. She was 17, and 3 months out of High School. And he was 1 month short of his 23 birthday, home from the Navy and a war. They met in Dallas, where they both worked for National Linen Supply Co.  My Dad was a 'Route-man,' working for his older brother, Ted, who served the company as its Service Manager.  My Mom worked in the office and had the job of checking in the drivers as they came in from their deliveries.  

The story goes that she had been there exactly 1 week.  As Friday came, Dad returned from his 'out of town' route, after having been gone all week.  Because of this, he'd not yet seen the new girl - Mom.  Crossing the great garage, called 'barn,' with his large smile and good looks in tow, he made his way to the window where she was.   As Mom tells it from there, she turned to one of her girlfriends to ask, "who's this?"  They said, that's "Delmer Dennis, isn't he cute!"  Then she, in just about the same breath,  said, 'that's the man I'm going to marry' - and 5 weeks later, they were. 

Growing up I didn't know about other kids and their parents, but I always knew Mom and Dad were in love. When she saw him, she glowed. And, when he saw her, well, let's just say we kids knew that a hug, pat, or a kiss was coming.  They were 'hand-sy" before "hand-sy" was cool and we kids just learned to accept it. We grew up with the security of always knowing how they felt for each other, and that, somehow, this would never pass.  

When my Mother called me on a July morning 20 years ago this past summer, she was crying when she said, "Sammy come quick, you're Daddy's gone!"  But she was wrong.  For he has never really left.  So that today, when we talked on the phone I knew how she'd begin.  "Today would have been our 61st," she said.  And I replied to both her voice and heart with, "I know, Mom. I know."  

Twitter is down!

If someone had told me that a line like this would mean ANYTHING to me 6 months ago, I would have looked blankly at them and queried, "What's twitter?" Well that day is certainly no more.  For today... twitter went down - and I, along with millions of others, was told by text to 'chillax,' in cool twitter-ese, meaning simply I could not tweet.  

So...

I went to FACEBOOK - to post my thoughts the old fashioned way - you know, the way I did in the ancient times (all of 7 weeks ago) before 'tweetdeck,' or through my iphone, but with my laptop instead, logged onto my, aarrrggghhh, FACEBOOK page. But it was, relatedly, so very SLOWWWWWWW.

But, then...

Worried I'd not catch ALL my audience with my 'earth shaking' views, I logged on next to BLOGGER.COM, to access my blog account.  'But, oh,' I'd forgotten, 'my blog account is  now married to one of my google accounts and requires I log in with a goggle ID'.  But which google account is it? Like you, I have multiple - from days of seeking that perfect ID - you know, that would distinguish me from all others.   

But... twitter... remained down.  

So I grabbed my pen - that's right, my pen - and returned to an old friend, my journal, to write there.  And yes, you guessed it - once begun, it all came back so that I flew.  I whizzed passed 140 characters like a missile, without one CAPITALIZED WORD or smiley face in view.  I used sentences - complete sentences - with structure, syntax, metaphor and, oh yes, a signature, too.  A signature that said - 'this is from me to no one - no one but the me called you'.  For today twitter went down!  And I, alas, did too.  

But... I wonder?