garycombs.org

From house to house

"Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Christ" (Acts 5:42 NIV).

The first house my wife and I lived in was on wheels. Convinced that we should be owners and not renters, we bought a 12x55 mobile home when we were first married. We couldn't afford land, so we rented a lot in a trailer park (I guess we were renters after all). I still remember our address: Lot #17.

I've attached a photo here of Robin standing in the door, excited about our first snow, in our first house, in our first year of marriage (I thought you might appreciate the idea of snow during this hot summer we're having).

We called this home for three years, but our children never knew this house. When we were expecting our firstborn, we sold our mobile home and bought a bigger place. We needed room for a nursery!

Through the years, the Combs clan has moved from house to house. Sometimes it was because we were expanding our family and sometimes because of a job transfer. Looking back, the only house that feels like home, is the one that we're living in now. A house doesn't make a home, love does. I know it's a cliche, but home "is" where the heart is.

Our WCC church family started out in my living room. We met there for three months before launching our first Sunday worship service at Forest Hill Middle School. We continued to meet at my home on Wednesday nights for the first two years of the church. When we finally moved all of our services to the school, some people got upset and left us. They had become attached to my house. They said they missed sitting in my living room and eating at my table. They said that we were getting too big and they didn't know everybody now. They didn't want a new house. My house was home to them.

But we knew it was time to move on. It was either cling to my little house and stop growing, or move to a bigger house and keep growing. So, we moved.

For years, when we passed FHMS, my daughter would see cars in the parking lot there during the week and ask, "Daddy, why are there people at our church?"

She didn't understand that it was a school building. She thought it was our church.

For nearly 19 years we've rented space for our church family all over town. We've had parties, picnics, Bible studies, get-togethers, baptisms, weddings and funerals, all at places that we rented or borrowed.

We've been called the "Roadie Church" by other churches that have seen us set up sound equipment for citywide events. They marvel at our adaptability and faithfulness.

I guess it's appropriate that a guy who started his family in a "mobile" home would launch a "mobile" church. From day one our church family has repeated the phrase, "The church is not the steeple, it's the people." It's part of our DNA, we're a church on the move.

Now, we're looking at moving into a "movie" theatre. Don't you think that's just perfect! But some will worry about this change. There are many uncertainties. I'm praying that our church family fully embraces the idea of moving into this new house.

I really believe it's time. Like the first century church that "never stopped" carrying the good news from "house to house," we mustn't stop either. We've carried the gospel from "house to house" all over Wilson for years. Now, it's time to carry it to another house. A house that can accomodate our dreams for being a city church, located in the center of things, open seven days a week, and able to draw people that would never hear the gospel otherwise.

While a house doesn't make a home, a family does need a house in which to live and grow. I believe it's time for the WCC family to buy a house. And when we move in, let's continually remind each other to "never stop" preaching the love of Jesus. That's the only way to make any house a home.

Staying focused when the heat is on

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart" (Hebrews 12:1-3 NIV).

It sure has been hot this summer! I read in the news that the 90 to 100 degree highs in June were record setting for the Eastern US. Heat this constant and high is hard to endure. Thank the Lord for air conditioning!

Speaking of A/C, both of my old but paid-for vehicles lost theirs during June. I had to spend my entire "Dave" emergency fund!

The auto repair man said, "Yeah, it's your compressor, Mr. Combs. It's shot."

"It's not my compressor." I answered. "That's the Lord's compressor. It's His car."

"Well, whoever it belongs to, it sure is gonna be hot without air!" He responded with an odd questioning expression on his face.

"Fix it." I said, as I mumbled a prayer to the Lord about how His cars were in need of replacement.

It's easy to lose focus during a heat wave. There's a kind of fatigue that affects both mind and body. It causes fuzzy thinking and fuzzy decision making. Sometimes, it makes you want to quit.

But Jesus stayed focused when He faced the cross. He looked past it to the goal which was our redemption. When we face hard times and heat waves, we can "fix our eyes" on Jesus. We can stay focused on Him. The One who endured will give us endurance. One of the ways that I practice the presence of Christ in my life is to remind myself (and auto repairmen) that everything belongs to God. Recognizing God's ownership and control helps me to endure.

When I returned to pick up my second repaired vehicle in two weeks, I told the repairman that as much as I enjoyed seeing him again, I hoped it would be a while before my next visit. For some reason, he just opened up to me and started talking about his family and his life. He twisted his computer screen around and showed me photos of his daughters on his facebook profile.

"Hey, can I "friend" you?" I asked.

"Sure." He replied.

"Cool." I said, as I told him about our church and how great it would be for him, his wife and his beautiful daughters. "I'll send you some links to our church website and some great info on parenting. You really ought to come check us out." I continued.

"Great, I'll try and come this Sunday!" He said, with a smile beaming on his face.

"I'll be looking for you." I replied, as I walked out onto the sun-baked asphalt, started my old Ford and cranked up the air. Adjusting the rearview mirror, I noticed my sweaty brow and something else...

I was smiling.

Freedom isn't free

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery" (Galatians 5:1 NIV).

The older I get the more I love history. I guess you have to have a little history of your own before you learn to appreciate it.

I also love researching my family ancestry. I think it's because my father, Claude Combs, died when I was only eight. Since I haven't been able to ask him personally, I do research.

These photos are of my father when he was serving in Korea. He was stationed in Seoul. I found these old B/W photos in my mother's things when she died. I'm glad he wrote on the backs of most of them, otherwise I wouldn't have a clue about their significance. In the photo below he is being congratulated by Major Jones for being the "Man of the Month." If you look closely, you can see a sign in the background that says, "Motor Pool."

My father was an identical twin and both he and his brother, Clyde, lived on a farm with their parents and younger sister. When WWII broke out, Clyde was drafted and served. But they left Claude at home. After Clyde served his time. The Korean conflict began and they drafted my dad.

Both my father and my uncle never talked about these wars. They were part of the silent generation.

Their father and my grandfather, Taulbee Combs, fought in WWI. He fought in the trenches of France. I never heard him talk about it until he was in his 70s and started suffering from Alzheimers. After that, it seemed to be the only thing he could remember. He couldn't always remember me, but he could remember the war.

"Yeah, I'd be in a 'parlez-vous' with those Frenchies when the bullets would start flying. They'd buzz by your head like bees. Just like bees!"

He would repeat this story over and over. Forgetting that he had just told it. What was it about war that an old man could forget everything in his life, but remember it?

In my research of the Combs family tree, I have discovered that we are part of an old line. The first Combs boy born in America was Archdale Combs, born in Rappahannock, Virginia in 1642. His parents, John and Elizabeth, were from England.

My branch of the Combs tree never strayed far from old Virginia. My grandfather's grandfather, Samuel Combs, fought with Virginia's 37th Infantry Regiment in the Civil War. He died at age 28 when his son (my great grandfather) Elbert was only two.

I wondered for some time about his early death. I couldn't find anyone who knew why he'd died so young. But recently I discovered this entry in my online research:

"Samuel served in the Confederate Army during the Civil War. He was killed at the Battle of Cedar Creek in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia in October of 1864. And was buried at Culpepper, VA. He was apparently buried as an unknown. We could not find his name in either cemetery in Culpepper. He was shot in the leg and bled to death. The Rev. Joseph Kendrick, a close friend from Russell County was with him" (From the remembrances of Dixie Lee Lambert Sowers, Ancestry.com).

I never knew this amazing story. I guess we can easily take our freedom for granted, unless we understand that freedom isn't free.

Someone had to sacrifice. Someone had to bleed and die, so that we can live free. That's true for a nation called America.

And it's true for all of us who believe in the Christ who died, so that we could be truly free.