Let me introduce you to George. . .

 As you may know, several years ago, my family jumped into the world of foster care.  For these last years, it’s been babies, babies, toddlers, a nine-year-old, a four-year-old and a couple of seven-year-olds.  Yes, the babies were tough at night, and the goodbyes were heartbreaking, but the joy of watching these tiny strangers grow physically and grow into our hearts made all the trials and tribulations well worth it. 

About a month ago, we entered a new phase of foster care.  We have had some teenagers spend a night or two on our couch until they could be placed in a foster home.  I would like to share a little bit of their stories with you. 

Let me introduce you to a young man named George.  A teenager, not from around here.  English was not his first language. George and a family member were driving through when  a routine traffic stop resulted in an unfortunate discovery.  The family member had some legal issues in another jurisdiction.  George was in a predicament.  The officers called DCBS and at 1:00 in the morning, our phone rang.  Our worker asked us, can you let George sleep on your couch tonight?  His parents cannot come and get him, and we don’t have any other place for him.  We said yes.  If we had said no, he would have either stayed at the DCBS office all night, or worse, the police station.  George got to our house about 2:00 AM.  Scared.  Alone.  English not being his first language, he struggled a bit to communicate.  The first question he asked me?  “Where am I?” His second?  "What’s the address of the police."  George stayed with us about 10 hours.  We made him breakfast, nothing fancy, scrambled eggs and toast.  He was grateful.  The worker picked him up and took George home.

A little after this, we got a call about a 17-year-old boy named, yep, George.  George had been in and out of foster care most of his life.  He needed a place to stay until his worker could find him a new placement.  Once again, our couch was put in play.   George came to our home with all his worldly possessions in two large garbage bags.  Yes, two large garbage bags.  We talked with George.  He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him.  He turned 18 in a couple of months and would age out of the system.  He had no family.  He had no support.  I was broken-hearted at the thought of what might happen to George when he left our home if he didn’t have a place to go, a family that would take him in even after he aged out. 

This last Saturday, my wife called me while I was working at the church.  Our worker called.  There was a young man who needed a place to stay over the weekend, so he didn’t have to sleep in the office.  His name, too, was George.  George had been in and out of the system most of his young life.  He is 15 years old.  He bounced from private homes to group homes.  He wound up on our couch because no one wanted him.  I talked quite a bit with George over the weekend, but he really talked to my wife.  He told her that all he wanted was a foster family in Simpson County to take him in, to go to school, and to be able to see his sister.  George slept on our couch for a couple of nights.  He became a part of our family.  As I told him goodbye, I teared up.  All day, I wondered what would happen to George when he left our home.  Later, I told Laura that if we had a bed, we would have kept George.  She readily agreed.   

Obviously, their names weren’t George.  These three boys are completely different people with unique stories.  Here’s the problem, in Kentucky, there are hundreds, if not thousands of Georges.  Teenagers that no one wants.  Teenagers that have problems.  Teenagers that have been through drama and through trauma.  Teenagers that are about to age out of the system with no clue what’s going to happen next.  Teenagers that just want a place to call home with a family that wants them.   Could you help George?  Kentucky needs foster families willing to take in teenagers.  Would you open your home, and more importantly, your heart, to help George?  If you’re interested, let me know.  We’ll talk about how you can help George. 

My 5 Month Saga

 

I saw my family doctor back at the end of April.  Just a routine visit for a medication refill.  During our conversation, my doctor mentioned that the new recommendation for a colon cancer screening is 45.  My doctor looked at me and said, “You’re 46, it’s probably time for a screening.” 

We talked about the options, a colonoscopy or a Cologuard test.  As a typical man, I chose the easy way out and decided on the Cologuard.  A week or so later, I received a box in the mail which contained my test kit.  I follow the directions, seal the container, put it in the box, and ship it via UPS.  I had a good chuckle thinking about the UPS driver picking up that package. 

I didn’t think anything more about it.  A week or so later, I missed a phone call.  It was my doctor’s office.  The voicemail said he wanted to schedule an appointment to talk about my test results.  Spoiler alert:  doctors never schedule an appointment for good news.  Never. 

My test results were positive for colon cancer.   Now, the Cologuard website is very clear:  that doesn’t mean there is cancer.  There is something like a 13% chance of a false positive.  Given my history with cancer, I began to research.  I discovered that one of the leading causes of colorectal cancer is exposure to heavy metals.  Hmm.  In my two previous battles with cancer, I took cisplatin, a chemotherapy drug made from platinum.  I also learned that one of the most prevalent secondary cancers in testicular cancer survivors is colorectal cancer.  About this same time, my first cousin had begun treatment for colorectal cancer.   Alarm bells were going off in my head. 

I saw my family doctor.  The next step was a colonoscopy.  He referred me to a gastrointestinal doctor.  This was in May.  I finally got an appointment for the end of September.  My wife and I were very disappointed about this delay.  About this time, I began to experience some symptoms that were very suggestive of colon cancer.  I won’t go into details, no one needs to read about those symptoms.  I began to be very nervous.  My wife started a one woman crusade to get my appointment moved up.  It went from September 29 to September 18, to July 28. 

My symptoms were getting the best of me.  I didn’t know what else to do.  My oncologist once told me if I started having any symptoms that concerned me and I couldn’t get anyone to listen to me, to call her office and make an appointment.   So, I did.  I saw her nurse practitioner, who listened to me.  She listened to my whole story.  She made a few phone calls and got me an appointment that same week with the GI. 

I saw the GI and got set up for a colonoscopy.  A week later, I did the prep (again, I’ll spare you the details) and went in for an endoscopy and a colonoscopy.  The doctor ran a scope through both ends to get a complete picture.  During the colonoscopy, she removed four polyps that after lab work were determined to be precancerous.  Later, I was told if I had waited much longer to get a colonoscopy, they would have been cancerous. 

During the endoscopy, my doctor found a nodule in a portion of my intestines called the duodenum.  She referred me to a specialist at the University of Louisville.  After several weeks, I saw the specialist and got set up for an endoscopic ultrasound of this nodule that they began to refer to as a duodenal mass.  (Not something a cancer survivor wants to hear, trust me.) 

Today, I had an endoscopic ultrasound.  (Special thanks to my sister Tammy for getting up at 3:00 this morning to have me in Louisville by 7 AM Eastern time.)  My doctor performed the test and said that in his opinion, it was normal.  He said that we should keep an eye on it to make sure it isn’t growing. 

I see my local GI early in November for a follow up.  I have a regular appointment with my oncologist the day after Christmas.  I have another colonoscopy scheduled at the end of January just to be on the safe side.    

I recently saw my family doctor again to get my medication refilled.  We chatted about my colonoscopy, and he made this statement: “You have the worst luck.”  I chose to think that I am exceptionally blessed.  Yes, I have had cancer twice, and had this colorectal cancer scare.  But each of those three times it was detected early enough that we were able to prevent it from spreading and developing into something much more serious.  I am blessed.  Blessed to have a great family doctor.  Blessed to have a great set of medical professionals that have my back.  Blessed to have a great support system in my family.  Blessed to be able to talk to the Lord about these things and to trust Him for the outcome. 

I never wanted cancer the first time.  I never wanted cancer the second time.  I certainly do not want cancer a third time.  But I know that if a third time ever comes my way, God’s got me just like He did the first two times.  I remember kneeling at the altar of Faith Baptist Church and praying after I got the positive Cologuard results.  I started my prayer by saying “Well, here we are again.” 

Why did I decide to share all of this?  To share these take aways with you:

• Be your own advocate.  Don’t let doctors tell you how you feel.  You know your body better than any medical professional.  I’m not being critical of doctors or nurses but be your own advocate. 
• Educate yourself.  Know your medical history and know the possible ramifications of it. 
• If you are a cancer survivor, don’t get a Cologuard, go straight for the colonoscopy.  My 5-month saga could have been much shorter if I had just gotten the colonoscopy right away instead of opting for the easy way out.

Come January, we’ll see what happens.  I’m just going to keep trusting the Lord.

A Good Steward

 

In Luke 12, we read a passage of scripture where the Lord asks a question: “And the Lord said, Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his lord shall make ruler over his household, to give them their portion of meat in due season?” (Luke 12:42)  I’ve been mulling over this idea of a steward. 

The dictionary defines steward in two ways, one, as a noun, and second, as a verb.  A steward is a person responsible for obtaining and organizing supplies (as for a voyage) and is responsible for passengers.  To steward (a verb) is to manage and oversee another’s property.  Jesus asks us who will be a faithful and wise steward.  As believers, we are called to be a steward. 

Typically, we narrow the focus of stewardship to finances.  It makes sense, as many times in the Scriptures, we read of stewards and they are connected to money—the unjust steward, for example.  And we need to be good stewards financially, however stewardship goes far beyond finances, but we will start there.  
  

In the early days of our marriage, my wife and I made some poor choices dealing with credit cards.  We are still struggling with those decisions all these years later.  We need to make good choices with our finances.  Recently, our middle son made an innocent statement to me.  He said “Dad, I think I’m going to apply for a credit card to build my credit.”  Instantly, I felt this urge to protect my son well up inside of me and I begin to sermonize the evils of credit card debt.  My wife walked into the room, saw the look on my son’s face, and asked what I was carrying on about.  I told her what our son had said, and she said oh no.  You may be able to use credit cards wisely, but most people cannot.  That’s why the average American has over $5,000 in credit card debt.  If we look at our money as being stewards of what God has given us, that should change our perspective.  It took me some time to come to this place of viewing my checkbook not as mine, but as the Lord’s.  Once I gave the Lord control over our finances, my life got less stressful.  I used to say, how am I going to pay this bill?  Now?  I ask the Lord how He is going to pay that bill, it is His money, I’m just overseeing it. 

Stewardship goes beyond finances.  How about your marriage?  This summer, Lord willing, my wife and I will celebrate our 23^rd wedding anniversary.  I’ve learned a thing or two about marriage, but I believe there is a lot left to learn.  I want to take good care of my marriage, which means taking good care of my wife.  How do we do this?  We work together to plan date nights for just the two of us—no kids!  There are times we really can’t afford to go out to dinner due to our finances, but we really can’t afford not to, for the health of our marriage.  How else do I steward my marriage?  I help with household chores—this morning, I cooked waffles for breakfast.  I do laundry.  I do dishes.  I do not dust, though.  I draw the line there.  I help with the kids.  When our biological sons were little, I would take time to play with them after work.  That was good for my boys, and good for my wife.  Now, I try to do the same with our foster children.  Another thing that I do to be a good steward of my marriage is push Laura to take time for herself.  Everyone needs time to be themselves—not Mom, or the school secretary, or wife, but just themselves.  Everyone needs time when no one has expectations for them.  Laura has a great circle of friends and I encourage Laura to take time to hang out with them, to leave her responsibilities and burdens behind for an afternoon or even overnight.  This allows her to be refreshed and recharged. 

Are we to be good stewards of our health?  You bet we are.  I hear many of my fellow pastors groaning right now.  In First Timothy 4:8, the Scripture says “For bodily exercise profiteth little: but godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.  Many Christians would say, see, bodily exercise has little profit, and grin like they cornered me with their logic.  Let’s take a step back—the Word says “profiteth little.”  It does not say has no profit, but indeed, has a little profit.  There is value in taking good care of our physical bodies.  Sure, they are only ours for a moment of eternity, but while we have them, we should be good stewards of them.  Exercise is wonderful for not only our physical health, but our mental health as well.  Nothing clears my mind like a good run.  There is nothing harder than being a Baptist trying to watch what he eats and going to a Baptist Church’s potluck meal.  At least, that’s what I thought until I became pastor.  I’m going to let you in on secret—every lady in the church watches to see if the pastor takes some of her dish.  If you don’t, offense abounds.  If you do, your waistline abounds.  That is difficult, but we must be good stewards of our health, so we must watch what we eat.  Man cannot live be bread alone, because, well, too many carbs is not good for you.  Eat a vegetable once in a while.

Stewardship also includes our property—our homes, our cars, and so on.  Do we take good care of those things that the Lord has provided us?  Keeping our lawn mowed and the bushes trimmed is part of being a good steward.  Keeping the trashed picked up out of the yard, being a good steward.  Keeping your home in good repair is being a good steward.  What about the church that you belong to?  Do you do your part as a good steward of the church?  Do you give financially?  Do you give time serve the Lord by being a good steward of the church—mow the lawn in the summer, clean the buildings between services, attend services?    Someone said to me, “Well, you’re the pastor, it’s your church.”  My response was no, it is our church we all need to take care of it.   

So, we’re back to were we started, with the Lord’s question.  Who will be the wise and faithful steward?  My prayer is that I will be a wise and faithful steward, but also that you will be a wise and faithful steward over the things that the Lord has blessed us with. 

 

Is that the phone?

 As a pastor, you get many types of phone calls.  Missionaries wanted to schedule a time to present their burden for their mission field.  Other preachers wanted advice or to commiserate.  Church members needing a listening ear.  People needing help.  People needing comfort.  Letting me know that their loved one is in the hospital or perhaps has passed away.  Many types of phone calls.

Last night, I got home from the Wednesday evening service and got a phone call that I was not expecting.  It started like this: “Pastor, it appears someone broke into the building.”  Excuse me?  What did you just say?    On the back side of our fellowship hall, we have a small room for visiting preachers to stay in while they are with us.  It is just big enough for a family to sleep in.  There’s a bathroom and a room with a washer and dryer.  Nothing fancy.  Someone broke into that room.

I immediately went back to the church.  The police were already there.  Thankfully there was not any damage to the building.  I looked through the room and realized there was very little missing.  There wasn’t anything of real value in that room to start with. 

Here’s what was taken:  A blanket, two pillows, soap, shampoo, detergent, fabric softener, towels, wash cloths, and a trashcan.  That’s it.  Things that someone who was perhaps homeless or in need would have wanted to take. 

I didn’t get angry.  I didn’t get upset.  I was heart-broken for this person.  Here’s the sad truth:  if that person had come in the church and sat and talked with me, explained their situation, and asked for help, I would have given them those things that they needed.  Not because of who I am, but because of Jesus.  That’s what He would have done. 

It was a restless night to be sure.  Early this morning, I got up, went to the store, and bought a new lock for that room.  I installed it and   I spent some time cleaning up the room.  I also spent some time praying.  Praying for this person.  I finally forgave them.  In my heart, I’m hoping that this person was helped by the towels, soap and other things that were taken.  I prayed for their soul.  Hopefully they know Jesus.  There were a handful of Gospel tracts missing as well.  If they don’t know Jesus, I hope they meet Him through that literature. 

I’m not going to focus on what was taken. Instead, I’m going to focus on what wasn’t taken.  Our peace.  Our peace is in Jesus, not in buildings.  No one can take that.  Our commitment to the ministry is still intact.  We may have been shaken, but we aren’t giving up.   Our desire to help the less fortunate hasn’t been taken.  Yes, this hurt.  Just like when someone apparently didn’t like the food in our food box, so they decided to decorate the playground with food. But we are still going to try to be a blessing to folks. 

We’ve learned some things through this, and I’m sure we’ll learn some more as the days go on.  My prayer isn’t that the person responsible is caught or punished, my prayer is that they would get the help they need.  Would you pray with us? 

I haven’t said much over the past 6 months or so about our fostering journey.  It’s been…interesting to say the least.  Laura and I had talked about becoming foster parents for years.  One thing or another would come up and we’d always say we would wait. 

About 8 or 9 months ago we began talking about it in earnest.  We did our research.  We did some soul searching.  We discussed it with our boys.  We prayed about it.  The Lord seemed to be opening the doors for us to foster.  We signed up for the introductory meeting.  For two hours we listened to a foster parent talk about her foster journey.  We signed up for the rest of the training. 

In all honesty, this was Laura’s dream.  I initially agreed because I knew it was something that she wanted to do.   But the more I learned about the foster system, the more I was burdened to be involved. 

One day, while I was reading my Bible, the Lord spoke to my heart.  I was reading in James, where the scripture tells us that true religion is visiting the widow and the orphan in their affliction.  I surrendered my heart to being a foster parent. 

Our first placement completely changed my family’s perspective.  A little girl and her baby brother were placed in our home.  They quickly became part of our family.  As long as I live, I will never forget the day that sweet darling girl placed her hands on my face, looked me in the eyes and said, “Are you Daddy?”  My heart melted.  One morning, I was playing with the little boy.  Just doing the typical Dad thing, holding him up in the air over my head and talking to him.  He grinned at me and I thought, he’s never had a Daddy play with him like this.  That is why I became a foster parent.  Because there are so many children in Kentucky that need what so many of us take for granted—the love of a parent. 

No, they aren’t my flesh and blood.  No, I’m not looking to adopt.  I’m looking to step up and step in to give these precious children what they need most at perhaps the darkest time in their young lives, a father’s love.   Someone who loves them no matter what—the temper tantrums, the night terrors, the arguing, no matter what. 

You’re probably thinking, I could never do that.  I could never open my home, much less my heart, to perfect strangers.  Where much is given, much is required.  My heavenly Father gave me love when I was unlovable.  He opened His heart and His Home for me.   As a Christian, I am supposed to show this world the love of Jesus.  How better than to heed His words and suffer the little children. 

We’ve got our next placement.  An adorable little boy.  We’ve been told that most likely, this will be short term placement.  It’s only been a few days, but I’m already dreading the call from the caseworker that says he’s going home.  I’ll be happy for him and overjoyed for his parents.  But it’s going to hurt.  I’m going to cry.  I’m going to have second thoughts.  But I’ll say yes again and again.   

Glass Houses

I have been thinking on something for quite some time now and it may just be time to share my thoughts about it.  This post may make some people angry with me; they may think I have become liberal.  They may decide to disavow me.  But here goes nothing.   I am tired of legalism.  I am tired of people judging other people by their own personal standards. 

No, I am not leaving the Independent Fundamental Baptist “movement.”  I am not becoming a liberal.  I am not becoming a modernist.  I have not moved in my beliefs.  If anything, the IFB “movement” has left me.

Here is the thing I have been pondering.  Why do we hold other people to our standards?  Who are we to look at other people and say they are not as spiritual, as separated,  or as holy as me, so they are not right with God? 

Let us talk about a standard that people judge by-dress.  That is an easy one.  If someone does not dress exactly the way I do, then they are a heathen.  I challenge you to go to the Bible and find a passage of scripture that gives a detailed explanation of the proper wardrobe of a Christian.  I’ll wait.  Have you found it yet?  Spoiler alert:  you will not.  The Biblical standard is not to wear this or not to wear that, the Biblical principal is to be modest, as found in I Timothy 2:9 - “modest apparel.”  The Bible teaches us to be modest.  What does modest mean?   According to the dictionary, it means moderate or reasonable, not extreme.  Our clothing should be reasonable, not flashy or revealing.  What’s reasonable to you may not be reasonable to others.  What’s reasonable to others may not be reasonable to you and that’s okay.  Over the years, there is one question I am asked about our church repeatedly.  “Do I have to wear a dress at your church?”  No.  Nope.  Not at all.  If you come to church wearing jeans and a tee shirt, I’ll welcome you.  If you come to church wearing shorts and halter top, I’ll welcome you.  If you come to church in a dress, I’ll welcome you.  If you come to church in your pajamas, I’ll envy you a bit, but I’ll welcome you.  Why?  It’s more important to me that you come to church than that you come to church wearing a particular item of clothing.  Your relationship with God is not defined by your clothes, but by what’s in your heart.   

People in glass houses should not throw stones.  A great old saying that we have not applied to ourselves as we ought to.  Let me tell you a story.  Years ago, I was talking to a fellow I worked with.  He’s a self-professed agnostic.  We were having an exceptionally good, very deep discussion on Christianity.  At the time, I weighed about 275 pounds.  He made this statement: “You are fat.  How is your sin any different than my sin?”  You know what, he was and is right.  Gluttony is a sin.  There may be circumstances beyond your control that causes obesity, but in my case, it was gluttony.  I realized that my testimony was tainted by my weight.  Shortly after that, several things happened that caused me to determine to lose weight, and I did, praise the Lord. 

In Isaiah 6, Isaiah saw the holiness of God and the first thing he did was look at himself.  Not others.  He said, “woe is me.”  He judged himself as undone and unclean.  We are experts at picking others apart while ignoring our own faults and failures.  It wasn’t until Isaiah got himself right that he began to worry about others.  He said first, woe is me, and then he said I live in a land of unclean people.    Point of interest:  Isaiah realized that he and the rest of Israel were all in the same boat:  unclean, in need of God’s grace.  He didn’t feel better than them because he was closer to the Lord.  

How about John the Beloved Disciple?  In his epistles, he writes to the “fathers, young men, and little children.”  Why?  Because he knew not all the believers had grown into the same levels of maturity.  He was showing them grace.  He was giving them grace to grow.  John was not critical of the “little children.”  He didn’t say that they should be as spiritual as him, the beloved disciple.

We get the idea that if someone has been saved 5 minutes they should be as spiritual as we are, or even worse, we get so focused on the outside that we don’t give the Holy Spirit leave to work on the inside.  We get out the white paint and paint those sepulchres (Matthew 23:27), because they have got to match our whited sepulchres. 

Jesus Himself told the Pharisees and scribes that brought the woman taken in the act of adultery, that the one without sin should cast the first stone.  One by one, they all dropped their stones and slinked away.  When the Light of the Lord shines on our sin, we realize we are not worthy to judge one another. 

Before we worry about anyone else, we need to make sure we are what we ought to be.  And let’s be honest, we’re all fixer uppers with a lot of work that needs to be done. 

 

 

Marriage Tune Up

For the last couple of years, I have had a burden to take the couples in our church on a marriage retreat.   Not that I think the married couples in our church are in trouble, quite the contrary.  The idea of a marriage retreat isn’t necessarily to fix the broken parts, but to keep the marriage from breaking, to shore up some basic areas to keep the marriage healthy. 

My doctor recently recommended I have an annual physical, just to make sure that everything was working like it should.  He made this statement: “sometimes, we focus on a particular diagnosis and can be blinded to what else may be going on.”  He was referring to my cancer diagnosis and how often times, doctors will focus on a known issue and not consider what else may be happening.  I have been thinking about this statement and how it can apply to many things, including marriage. 

You and your spouse may be going through a challenging area together and you are focusing on that one area to the detriment of the rest of your marriage.  Sometimes, it may be your children.  It may be finances.  It may be something else entirely.  Those issues will come and go, but your marriage will remain. 

Let me give you a couple of thoughts on some routine maintenance for your marriage.  It doesn’t matter if you’ve been married 5 months, 5 years, or 50 years, these things will help. 

Tell your spouse you love them.  Often.  Repeatedly.  Many people assume their spouse knows this.  Remind them.  Don’t let them forget.  But telling them that you love them also reminds you of that fact.  Yes, it’s important that you don’t forget you love your spouse!  I have had many couples in my office for counseling over the years that the conversation gets to this point:  “I just don’t love them anymore.” Or “I’ve fallen out of love.”  Love isn’t a feeling, it’s an action, it’s an attitude, it’s an aptitude.   

Tell your spouse why you love them.  What is it about them that you love?  Is it their strength?  Is it their compassion?  Is their ability to go above and beyond to help people?  Why do you love them?  This is so important.  Think for just a moment with me.  Why do you love your spouse?  If you can’t give me several reasons, maybe you need to spend some time reflecting on this.  My wife bought a piece of wall art years ago that says "I love you because" and then below it is a chalkboard.  Occasionally, she will write something about why she loves me.  I so enjoy seeing what she writes.    

Date your spouse.  Life is crazy.  Especially right now.  Work, kids, bills, who has time to date?  You better make time.  Dating your spouse is essential for your marriage.  Keep those connections alive!  Many think that once the wedding is over, so is the pursuit.  Oh no, continue to pursue your spouse, just like before you got engaged and married.  People need to know that they are wanted.  They need to know that you need them in your life. 

Be intimate with your spouse.  No, I’m not talking about physically.  Talk with your spouse about your fears, your dreams, your goals, your worries.  Sharing those deeply personal things is the basis for all other forms of intimacy.  True intimacy in marriage is being real with your spouse.  Try this:  pray with your spouse.  Take some time and just pray together. 

These are just a few ways to you can give your marriage a quick tune up.  Pick one and try it today.  Plan a date night.  Have a conversation with them.  Let them talk and you just listen.  Reconnect and reap the benefits.