Though You Are Small

"But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times."

Micah 5:2

The mission of God is so vitally important to churches. When a church veers off the path of hearing and doing, the result is aimless wandering, which results in death in the desert. As a young church planter, I knew this intuitively. Our whole church could fit in a large closet, and we were dirt road poor, but if I had anything to do with it, we would stay on mission. Our mission explained in one word is, "others." I had read an account years before of Salvation Army founder General William Booth, a man whose faithfulness and character I wished to emulate. On Christmas Eve in 1910, the General was ill and within months of his death. His weakened state had prevented him from attending the Army's annual convention. Booth decided to send a telegram greeting instead of going himself, to encourage his "troops" who had labored so tirelessly through the winter cold. As usual, the Army had limited funds, and lengthy telegrams cost more. General Booth thought back through the years to craft a one-word message so that the monies they did have could continue helping the needy.

As the many delegates to the convention gathered, the convention's moderator stood to bring greetings from their beloved leader. The message was on a small slip of paper. It read: "Others!"

Though we were small, our mission was others! I had preached from Micah 5:2 in the morning service on Christmas Eve. That night we gathered to deliver help and Christmas cheer to an elderly couple caring for their ten grandchildren. The children's parents died in a tragic automobile accident. Our small band collected money, food, toys, clothes, and shoes as these were the items that our local social services person had suggested. A remarkable thing in those days was that when we did something, everyone in the church attended. No one thought, "this isn't for me" or "they don't need me." We met at our rented community building, loaded our three vehicles' trunks with our store, and headed out to an isolated rural home. It was a throwback to many older houses I had seen in South Carolina during my boyhood. The house stood with a high profile in a swept yard under two massive oak trees' shelter. Its wooden steps lead up to a wrap-around porch. At one time, it had been considered a lovely house. Now it was showing its age, just like those who lived there. I knocked on its door, opened by an older man who turned to call his wife. They both welcomed us in, but with the late hour and our need to unload, I thanked them and said, "we would love to, but it is after eight and very cold, so if it is all right, we will unload and have a prayer with you. The couple consented and said that we could bring our gifts in and set them "here" on the floor. The front door had opened into the center hall where the heater stood. Even devoid of furnishings, which was an essential room in a house like that. I knew because I had spent many days lying in front of a heater during the holidays looking at the Sears Christmas catalog.

 Looking into that space also revealed numerous doors leading to a kitchen and all the house's bedrooms.  We first brought in the groceries, which the grandparents quickly helped us carry to the kitchen table and cabinets. Next, we moved in the toys stacking them together on the floor. One of the most unusual things about our Christmas Eve visit was that they had ten children, and we had not heard a peep from them. Nor had we seen any of them. At the same time, I had the notion that every visible doorknob probably had a little hand wrapped around it on the door's opposite side. The lady at our County Social Services Department had told us that the children needed clothing and shoes more than anything else, so we went all out to meet that need. Our small team of "elves" started carrying the boxes of clothes and putting the shoes nearby on the floor. Most of the time, they would carry things up the stairs and then hand them to me as I stood at the door of the house. It was so cold that I kept the door closed as much as possible. I remember putting a couple of pairs of shoes down on the floor, but when I went back in with the next load, they had disappeared. The same thing happened when I came back the next time, so I laid several pairs out and returned to the porch. This time though, I cracked the door so that I could quietly watch the shoes. As soon as I left the room, I watched several doors open at once, and as quickly and quietly as mice, the shoes exited the room being carried by children who had the biggest smiles on their faces. I motioned for the others to join me at the door as we unloaded the remainder of the shoes so they could watch those doors open and our gifts disappear. I cried a little that night for Joe and Margaret and those ten children who needed shoes more than they wanted toys. We prayed and wiped tears with the grandparents before we drove back to our homes. The tender memories of this night in the late seventies are with me today, and I hope they will always remain.

It is so vital that no matter the size, you and your church remain on the mission of God. "Don't look down on small beginnings," and don't quit because of weakness or tiredness. Stopping will lead to fear and malaise, and faithless behavior. Death haunts the desert places of disobedience.  Though, as a church, we were small, on that night, we were not insignificant. We had started living for others, and over the years, our church grew with the others who helped reach still others. Our church grew because as our hearts grew, God filled them with many gifts of His tender mercies and grace. My wife and I, along with our church of ten people, will never forget the magic doors in that house, which opened to show us how we could make a difference in our corner of the world!  

 The Hidden Treasures of Church Planting

At heart, I suppose I am and will always be a church planter. New converts and freshly minted churches are the lifeblood of our faith. I planted my first church in 1976 because that was what my hands found to do for Jesus. In subsequent years, I became more invested in this calling. Planting churches can be hard obedience. It will stretch your faith to the point of breaking while at the same time working spiritual muscles that few other things can or will. I would compare it at times to running backward! (Don't try either alone) I consider those days of "small beginnings" as the most formative and productive in a ministry that has spanned over forty-six years. In ancient crop-growing language, I saw things increase by thirty, sixty, and a hundred-fold. I learned lessons of commitment, faith, and God's unfailing love that I could never know in any other way. Now, so many years later, my wife and I are worshiping with a ridiculously young and talented group of twenty and thirty-somethings in a new church plant. I pray they will have the same experience of blessing.

I am sure you know that church planting is not only a spiritual self-improvement activity. Even with all its benefits, it has to be more than that. It is an irreplaceable building block in the work of God for the world. Martin Luther said, "Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree." We must have the same attitude for church planting because, as Warren Buffett says, "Someone's sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago."

God is everywhere, but in some places, He is greater. Every newly planted church becomes a place where heaven meets earth, and it is at the Father's footstool we worship. There is no better place to be or experience to have. There is no better way to define church planting than with the words accompanying: go, others, and presence.

 I grew up singing, "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go, Dear Lord," so I arrived at the mission of Pentecost quite naturally. In a culture seemingly enthralled with adventure, "go" seems an enjoyable command to hear, and it is except for different reasons. "Adventure" is about collecting pleasurable experiences and pleasant memories in an invisible bucket so that you won't miss a thing in life. Mission is about having been found by someone who heard "go" and refused to say "no." It is also about never forgetting so that you keep going to tell one more person about God. My wife tried on winter boots while shopping with my family in Williston, Vermont. A sales lady spotted me perched in a chair nearby. Looking me in the eyes, she asked, "Are you on a mission or just looking?" "Just looking," I replied as I pointed to my wife, "but that lady over there is serious." Congregation planting is serious work. Full of adventure, yes, but so is tackling a 250-pound hog. A word of experience, don't try that, it's not fun! It is serious because starting new churches means going deeper into the Devil's Den. Warning! It would be best if you didn't go unless you are ready to leave some things behind.

Jesus commanded those he sent out to travel lightly, carrying neither "a purse, bag, or sandals."  Luke 10:3-4 Go and make the going to others of the utmost importance. The more baggage, the more care, the more care, the less we share with those for whom we travel. General William Booth, the Salvation Army founder, had his life's motto the one word, "others." It was the word on his lips when he addressed the worldwide Army gathering for the last time by telegram, and it left a profound impact on his followers and their disciples. For years, the church of Jesus has concentrated on the same 40% of the population already connected. But God is sending us to others who are "hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places." Isaiah 45:3  If we go to these "others," the Lord will give them to us.

As a church planter, I realized the poor worked the fields' edges to glean something left to eat after harvest. Likewise, the assemblies we need to plant are in "the ghettos of Lo-debar," where outsiders reside and where there is no pasture, no word, or communication. 2 Samuel 9:4 There is a Mephibosheth there who has an appointment made by mercy to dine with the King. Saul's grandson had come from a privileged background, but he lived broken and in shame on the other side of the tracks. Mephibosheth was shown mercy because of David's love for his father, Jonathan. Others will experience grace and mercy because of our love for Jesus as we go.

Being other-minded will facilitate others' inclusion into the life-giving benefits of covenant community; seeks to find a path, build a bridge, or open the door to those frequently left out of the spiritual community for any reason.

 To go to others invites the presence of the Lord in some unexpected ways. The Psalmist, whose priority was the presence of God in worship, said, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Ps. 34:18  In thinking of the presence of God, most Christians focus on large crowds, powerful praise, and Spirit-empowered preaching. But the Psalmist gives us an upside view of where God resides in saving power; he is near to those who are broken and crushed, those others who can't check the boxes marked: saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Spirit. I can recall numerous times through the years when I sat at my desk or in my car alone and wept at the goodness of God shown in the lives of broken and hurting persons. Those were Holy moments where God seemed to say to the spiritual Hagars of life, "I see you," and because I was standing close enough, I felt his gaze and touch. Doing "Church" can get old, but the nail-pierced hands of Jesus never!

Perhaps Charles Studd understood that proximity to the broken and lost is the means to divine presence when he said, "Some wish to live within the sound of a chapel bell; I want to run a rescue shop within a yard of Hell." Grasping this truth will revolutionize our evangelism and discipleship efforts. Many seek His presence by shutting everything else out and shutting themselves alone with God, but for Jesus, those were only pitstops as he ran to the broken and lost. His glory is not found beneath a spire or shut up in a closet; in redeemed man, we best see His goodness, mercy, and compassion.

Go! In doing so, you will find others who will allow you to embrace God's presence in ways not possible alone. 

                                                   A Reflection from A Song for Nagasaki

Moses built an altar and called it The LORD is my Banner.  Exodus 17:15

Standing in a place of victory, Moses built an altar and worshipped in the aftermath of a new revelation of God. The success was the defeat of the Amalekites by Israel's troops, which Joshua led. This battle was critical because it was the nation's first time in combat. God himself destroyed Pharaoh and his army of chariots when he allowed the heaped-up waters of the Red Sea to return to their place. He revealed himself differently on this occasion.

The staff had been for Moses a sign of the Lord's presence and power. During the day-long battle against the Amalekites onslaught, Moses held his staff above his head with the help of Aaron and Hur so that Israel could prevail. Perhaps as a rallying point or even a communication tool, the staff became a flagpole of sorts, and Joshua's troops won the field. As an act of worship, Moses built an altar at that spot and named it Jehovah Nissi, which means "the Lord is my banner." Historically, flags and banners are important symbols. In our past, when battlefield visuals were limited to eyesight alone, flags were indispensable. 

A Song for Nagasaki is the story of Dr. Takashi Nagai, an early pioneer in X-ray technology who, while afflicted with Leukemia due to exposure to x-ray radiation, survived the atomic bomb explosion at Nagasaki. Raised in Shintoism, Nagai was a convert to Catholicism. He became a national hero of sorts as he bore witness to the love and forgiveness of God following the horrific nuclear tragedy. On August 9, 1945, at 11:02 am, Nagai was at work, preparing to deliver a lecture at the university hospital when the bomb exploded one-half mile away. Eighty percent of those in the teaching hospital instantly perished. Fortunately, Nagai and some other nurses and doctors were in a part of the building facing away from the blast, enabling them to survive the initial explosion, fire, and falling structures. They moved away from the dangerous debris and began to treat the injured around them without medicine or clean bandages. In a city of two hundred thousand, over seventy thousand died instantly. Destruction of life was unparalleled.

As blast survivors, shattered and badly burned, began to climb into the light of day, their first thought was to get to the hospital for help. They did not realize the hospital was no longer standing, and the shell that did remain intact was burning as the bomb had ignited fires throughout the harbor city. Glynne writes: 

"…he (Dr. Nagai) looked around and saw all semblance of organization

beginning to disintegrate. More people were pouring in from the city below,

thinking they could get relief if they made it to the big hospital complex.

Nothing was further from the truth."

The doctors and nurses were overwhelmed and began to display panic-stricken faces. They couldn't offer assistance for everyone, and as the Head Nurse Hisamatsu said,

"' Suddenly, it all seemed utterly

beyond us, and we started to lose our nerve.' At that point, Nagai

shouted: 'Quick, find a Hi no Maru," which is the Japanese flag. He

directed the command to young Dr. Okura, who could not think of anything

as inconsequential right then as a flag! He went through the motions of

looking for one in the few places, not on fire and reported back: "It's

impossible to find one." Nagai looked at a piece of a white sheet as it blew

toward him. He snatched it up, tore it into a square, pulled the blood-soaked

bandage from his head and squeezed and dabbed blood into the center,

making a rough circle of red. Several others added blood

 from their wounds, and lo! The Japanese flag.

Nagai ordered Okura (who later became a Catholic Priest) to tie the

homemade flag to a thick bamboo pole above them."

Many years later, one witness recalled, "Suddenly we had a headquarters to rally around, a center that put order back into the picture." 

While our present outlook is undoubtedly different, it is at the same time one that begs for order. As our world spins, it seems that pieces are slinging off. We are not in panic mode, but we need more urgency. Interestingly, Dr. Nagai saw the Urakami region of Nagasaki (which had a sizeable Christian population) as a sacrificial offering to end the war, thereby saving millions of other lives. 

We need bold and heroic action today as so much is at stake. Jesus has made the ultimate sacrifice and sealed it with his blood. He needs battlefield flag bearers who will not let the enemy trample upon their colors. Let's make sure we lift the Banner high no matter what the cost. 

By Myself but Never Alone

The heavy frost crackled under our feet as we made our way into the unpainted wooden house. I would have thought it abandoned if it weren’t for the small stream of smoke coming from the mouth of a crooked old chimney whose bricks were acting like an older man’s teeth. The gaps in and around the door and the lack of an enclosed foundation meant that the little ram shackled structure was one that breathed. The problem, of course, was that at nine o’clock on this December morning breathing the freezing air was the opposite of what anyone wanted to do.

As we entered I felt that I might fall through the weak wood flooring but quickly forgot about falling as I surveyed the one-room house. A coal-burning stand-alone heat and cookstove were to the left of the room’s center and a single bed to the right of center with a wooden kitchen chair beside. The only other furnishings were some wooden drink crates stacked up beside the head of the bed and between it and the heater. As I looked in the dimly lit room, I still could not see a person on the small mattress piled high with quilts but assumed there was someone there, alone.

What immediately grabbed my attention even more than the sparse furnishings were the walls of the house. They had no insulation or sheetrock and were covered only with old yellow newspapers. The thin layer of the newsprint allowed the cracks and holes in the board to allow the sun and the cold entrance in the little room. 

What brought my companion and me to the little shack that morning was an internship for a master's level course in Guidance and Counseling. This particular class had as a requirement that I work with a Social Services Caseworker for a week. The little house in the country was our first stop on the first day of the caseworker's weekly rounds. I had not prepared myself for the heartbreak of what I saw. As my supervisor gently spoke to the tiny person under the old quilts, I worried at the stove, which had warped over time allowing me to see glowing red embers peaking out of the heating chamber. On top of the potbellied stove was an opened can of beans and a small pot with water. The pintoes were for lunch, and the water to humidify the air in the room. On the stack of crates was a plastic spoon. The caseworker explained that the occupant’s grown son made sure his eighty-year-old mother had fire in her stove and something to eat before he went to work each day. She lived alone and spent her days as well as her nights in bed.

Peaking out from under the covers was the frail body of the house's owner. She had experienced many freezing nights alone. Between the wrap on her head and the blankets, a could see a deeply creased face, deep-set eyes, and a mouth sparsely occupied by teeth. “I’m all right,” she said when the gentle voice of the care worker asked how she was doing and if she needed anything. The county employee introduced me as I leaned in over the bed to get a closer look. “This is Mr. Rick Collins. He is a pastor from Chester and is studying at the University.”

Her ears seemed to prick as she tried to focus on my face and said, “Chester. And you a preacher?” “Yes, mam,” I replied. My next words were standard pastor issue. “May I pray for you?” 

She answered more firmly this time, “Yes, please.” Along with my supervisor, I prayed and in my prayer, I prayed that God would protect her as she spent her days alone. As I said, “Amen,” in conclusion, she looked thoroughly at me with a look that might have been accompanied by taking my cheeks in her weathered old hands if she had been able. I had seen the look many times over the years when an older person with great reflection gave you a piece of their personal experience. “By myself,” she said, and then with even more strength, her frail voice lifted, “never alone!  That is the story of God’s people small and great. We many times are by ourselves but never alone!

In all their distress he too was distressed, and the angel of his presence saved them. In his love and mercy he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old. Isa. 63:9

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. James 1:27

As Foreigners and Strangers

“We are foreigners and strangers in your sight, as were all our ancestors.” 1 Chronicles 29:15

From the top let me say this little thought has nothing directly to do with the current debate over immigration and hopefully its reform. I am not making a statement as to whether we should or should not have a barrier. These words are neither liberal nor conservative as those designations presently represent political parties. I find myself both at different times for different causes. We need an equitable immigration policy as well as secure borders so that we can continue to be a welcoming nation. I will leave the border to our government to manage, but the strangers and aliens of the world are under a higher law. They belong to God.

            I ask you to join me today to pray for the world’s refugees, especially those who are poor and who may be fleeing for their lives. I live in the most conservative section of our great country. I have grown up around people who have loved and devoted themselves to one of the cornerstones of our faith and society, the family. These men and women would tangle with a bear before they let something happen to their huddle. It threatened, they would fight; if they were hungry they would get an additional job if they could, in order to provide. And if there was a better place, one that offered safety (or school) for their children and plenty for all, they would grab their backpacks and go.

       I well remember when in the sixties the textile factories in the south went into serious decline due to international manufacturing and my mom and dad discussed moving to Australia for job opportunities. We didn’t go but would have if needed. The fact is, I don’t know any good men in my part of the world who wouldn’t cross deserts, climb mountains, or face intolerable and dangerous situations at foreign borders in order to make their family safe and secure. That is a large part of the American spirit and I pray that we don’t one day face those conditions which may force us to flee the land we love!

       I am concerned that many of those trying to come into our land have become faceless to us. We don’t recognize their faith, their love for family, or their need for safety as driving forces behind what they do. They are becoming a part of a bigger story which doesn’t match who they are. They are not all gangsters or drug mules. If they had money, they would fly in for vacation and get lost in this great country of ours, or come in for educational purposes. But they don’t, so they walk or ride in the back of trucks at risk of their lives. They are not our enemies. Please pray for them. If they cannot enter into our country pray that the violence and poverty of their countries will change so they can remain in peace. If we cannot pray, we are in danger of losing our souls.

But please remember this, “We are foreigners and strangers in your sight, as were all our ancestors.”  That is Israel’s testimony. The history of all the world is the same. It is a history of people movement. Famine, drought, flood, pestilence, repression, and sword have kept the world's population on the move throughout the years. Jesus identified with every stranger and alien as Joseph led his family down into Egypt in the face of Herod’s threats. He identified with them and with us so that we all might be incorporated into his plan of redemption.

Peter writes to the church taking note of their plight by saying, “Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles… “ 1 Peter 2:10

Dear friends, as fellow foreigners and exiles, please, put a face on those with whom Jesus identified by praying for them and asking God to bless and protect them as they journey to a better place. And may God Bless the United States of America!

Belonging to a Local Church Congregation

Belonging to a church does limit a person’s choices in some ways but it also enhances his or her prospects to actually grow in covenant faithfulness. Not being committed gives people an illusion of freedom, control, and excitement but ultimately leaves them empty. As in free love, which is a short-lived worship of personal freedom, an individual can be joined to “any” or “many” but the deep longing of heart and steady discipline of mind will be left unfulfilled. The freedom to shop daily for experiences that titillate and weekly for entertainment venues which enthrone personal desires, will absolutely retard knowledge of the God who compares his people to “tree(s) planted by streams of water...” His children will flourish because they are rooted in streams of His presence and planted by Him into the ground of His grace.

In the seventies a common phrase among Christians was, “bloom where you are planted.” Today we may want to change that to say, “you will bloom, if you are planted.”

A Merry Little Christmas

 I don’t seem to hear it as much as I did when I was much younger, but the words, “Did you have a big Christmas?”, remain with me as the season draws near. I never liked them. Those words seemed to measure the holiday I loved in the wrong way and begged for comparisons that would only leave someone feeling as if he were less than others. Growing up, our Christmases were never big as far as number of gifts. We always had presents, but it was, at times, difficult for Mom and Dad to do very much gift giving. I still remember going with Mom to make payments on her layaways and with dad to the Rock Hill Printing and Finishing Annual Christmas Party to pick up an amazing bag of company-supplied toys, but Christmas was never really…“big”.

I’m glad it wasn’t. I learned to love and appreciate the little things, simpler times, and the love of family. I even treasured the small brown paper bag containing fruit and hard candy that I received at our church on the Sunday before Christmas every year. Twenty years ago, I observed a church as it attempted to return to those days by giving out similar treats on a Sunday. The kids who received them used the apples and oranges as hand-thrown projectiles in the parking lot when the service was over. They didn’t appreciate little or small and probably would have been equally unimpressed by a baby lying in a feeding trough!

I’m afraid that our love for “big” holidays, over-the-top decorations, and humongous events has missed the point of the humility of Jesus’ birth. He has entered humanity by “emptying” Himself so that His rich treasure would not scare away the humble and the poor. That truth has been verified at His birth announcement with the admonition to…“Fear not!”

About her part in this wonderfully unfolding drama, Mary said:

“He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
    he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
⁵² He has brought down rulers from their thrones
    but has lifted up the humble.
⁵³ He has filled the hungry with good things
    but has sent the rich away empty.” Luke 1:51-53

There are no large or fancy trappings in Judea.  No big Christmas is mentioned as happening there. The proud, the rulers, and the rich are not the recipients of God’s favor. It is the humble, the poor, and the hungry who are favored on the night of His birth. It is the ordinary shepherd who first hears the angelic proclamation and responds to its invitation. Today, it is for us to make ourselves small through understanding our weakness, admitting our poverty, and humbly bowing before this animal feeding trough to worship Him.

Where will He be found this Christmas? Jesus lodges with the sick and hurting, with the poor outcast, and with those who have had the darkness to blot out their hope. He still finds His home with the ordinary and the humble. Go there, and “have yourself a merry little Christmas!”