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Just As I Am

"Whoever comes to me I will never drive away" (John 6:37 NIV).

I love singing the new contemporary worship songs at our church, but whenever I get alone with God those aren't the songs that fill my mind. In my times of private devotion it's those old hymns that begin to ring in my head.

On a recent study retreat I was having trouble hearing from God. I felt a profound sense of worthlessness come over me. As I considered the calling on my life, I suggested to God that he might look for someone else, someone with more ability to do my job.

As I wallowed in self pity and doubt, I began to hum a tune, "Just as I am without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me..." I sensed God's presence. He spoke to me through those old lyrics. My calling doesn't depend on my ability. God will supply the ability if I will just come as I am.

The lyrics to "Just As I Am" were written by an invalid named Charlotte Eliott in 1835. After a dark night wrestling with feelings of uselessness, she began to question even the reality of her spiritual life. She awoke the next morning and taking pen and paper in hand, she poured out her heart. She wrote words aimed at conquering the spiritual warfare in her soul. She reminded herself that God had called her to come just as she was.

One hundred years later, in 1934, a young man named Billy went forward at a revival led by the evangelist Mordecai Ham. The altar call song was "Just As I Am." The Rev. Graham was so marked by this song that it became the standard decision song for all his crusades. He even named his autobiography after it.

It's amazing how a young crippled girl's obedience continues to affect us today. Living to 82 years of age, she never let her disability keep her from following God. She wrote over 150 hymns.

Singing the lyrics to "Just As I Am" and letting them encourage our souls, we are reminded that God has never been interested in our ability.

What He asks for is our availability. 

Fishing, Doc Watson and an Olds 442

"When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus' knees and said, 'Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!' For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken... Then Jesus said to Simon, 'Don't be afraid; from now on you will catch men.' So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him" (Luke 5:8-11 NIV).

I never cared much for fishing. Too much sitting and waiting. But my uncle Basil liked to fish and I loved being with him. So, we often went fishing.

My father died when I was eight, so as a boy I was always looking for a father figure to fill that vacuum. My mother's younger brother was one of those men. He would show up at my house driving his Olds 442 and invite me to go for a ride.

"Let's go fishing!" My uncle Basil would say as we got in his car.

"Sure!" I'd exclaim. I didn't care what we did as long as we were together.

As we pulled away, he'd say, "Hey, grab second for me." while pointing at his chrome, four-in-the-floor, Hurst shifter.

I'd grab the shifter with both hands and pull back, watching his clutch foot for the next gear changes. Uncle Basil always needed my help for gear changes. I never knew how he managed without me.

If I got a little loose with one of the changes, he'd smile and say, "If you can't find 'em, grind 'em."

"Now, look in the the glove box and pull out that new Doc Watson 8-track and pop it in. You're going to love this guy. He can really pick." He'd say when we got the car up to cruising speed. Uncle Basil always had music he wanted me to listen to with him. He loved the blues. Even though I was more of a rock and roll guy, I learned to love the blues too.

Sometimes we'd take our guitars when we went fishing. While sitting on an old boat dock at the lake with our lines in the water, we'd talk and pick. He taught me my first song on the guitar, "The Wildwood Flower."

I loved my uncle Basil and he loved hunting, fishing, telling stories, listening to music, playing guitar and driving Oldsmobiles. Being with him I learned to love those things too.

I doubt that Simon Peter cared much for the sinners that Jesus loved. He was a fisherman. He loved the sea and catching fish. It was his life. Then Jesus got in his boat. Peter recognized his own sin and Jesus loved him anyway. He invited Peter to a new kind of fishing, fishing for men. I'm sure Peter had no idea what he was getting himself into, but he knew one thing, he wanted to be with Jesus. So, he left everything and followed him. Peter learned to love what Jesus loved.

I must confess that I find the "lost" hard to love. They are sinners after all. They're not very lovable, but Jesus loves them. I don't know why, but when I was a sinner, He loved me too.

It's funny how when you love being with someone, when you start loving them, you start loving what they love.

Jesus loves sinners and now He is making me love them too...

...especially if they love fishing, Doc Watson, and an Olds 442.

What belongs to you?

"He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from shore. Then he sat down and taught the people from the boat" (Luke 5:3 NIV).

I starting loving boats and motorcycles at a very early age. To me, they represented more than transportation. They were shortcuts to adventure. And I loved adventure! I guess I've always been an adrenaline junky.

My uncles and cousins all started getting bikes when I was around 10 years old. I really wanted one of my own. When I was 11, my Aunt Theda bought a used Honda 70 and gave it to me and my brother Barry. Man, we loved that bike! We finally had a bike that belonged to us. You wouldn't believe the stories I could tell (and the scars I could show) that happened to us on that little Honda.

My love of motocycles led to a friendship with a school mate named Bruce. I started hanging out with him when I was around 14 years old. By that time I had a Honda 125. Bruce had a beast of a bike, a Yamaha 250 motocross. His bike scared me and I liked it! He lived at South Holston Lake and had several boats too. When we weren't riding bikes, we were riding boats. Sometimes we'd take two boats out at a time. We'd use his dad's inboard to make a big wake and take turns on his little fiberglass two-seater jumping over the wake. Now, I dreamed of owning a boat too.

Fast forward a decade or so and I'm married, we've got three kids, a dog, a house in Roanoke (that I needed to sell), a house in Wilson, a waterfront house at Smith Mountain Lake, and a boat. As a child I had dreamed of owning these things and now I did. But what surprised me is that I really wasn't happy. I felt like these things owned me, instead of me owning them (Can you say "three mortgages!"?).

Owning these things wasn't turning out to be the adventure I'd dreamed. I was working 70 hours a week for a large corporation and barely had time to do more than pay the bills. Plus, I knew that God had called me to the ministry and I wasn't doing it. That was one adventure that was just too scary even for me. Why? Because it looked like that I'd have to let go of my belongings in order to do it.

Finally, my misery became greater than my fear. I had to do something. It was time to begin another kind of adventure, one that wasn't about having more belongings, but touching more human beings. God was calling me to the most thrilling ride of my life!

So, I quit my corporate job. I cashed out my 401K. Sold my corporate stocks and options. I even sold my lake house (I held on to it as long as I could, but it had to go too). I used the money to support my family while attending seminary for three years.

But I held on to the boat. I kept it in the garage. We took it out on the Tar River Reservoir from time to time. We enjoyed it.

By then, God had called us to plant Wilson Community Church and the church needed a van to haul equipment. We had attracted all these young families and money was tight. One day, as I stood looking at my Bayliner boat sitting in the garage, I could see that the new adventure required a van more than a boat. So, we sold the boat and bought a van for the church. That 1982 Chevy Beauville wasn't much to look at, but we lovingly named her "Bertha" and used her to carry sound equipment and nursery equipment for years.

This year, God has us setting out on another adventure. He has miraculously opened the door for our church to "own" a property valued at more than 2.2 million dollars for the amazing amount of $285,000.00. This shouldn't be possible! The owners turned down several offers for much more in the past couple of years. But for some crazy (God) reason, they've accepted our offer!

Recently, I felt drawn out to my garage again... looking. This time I see my Honda VT1100 Shadow sitting there. I haven't had it long. But I know what God is thinking.

"Will let me use it? Will you trust Me again with your belongings?" I sense Him ask.

My answer? You can find it on craigslist.com. Just look for a big, black, chromed out Honda cruiser for sale in Wilson, NC. You'll find a photo of my bike sitting in front of the garage. I'm learning to let go of stuff more quickly. I don't want to let my belongings cause me to miss the real adventure.

So, I'm giving it back to God. He needs it for a downpayment on His building. He's calling me to push out and go deep. I don't need to own a boat or a motorcycle to feel the splash on my face and the wind in my hair. God has called me to a greater adventure and I'm having the ride of my life!

What belongs to you? If you really listen, you'll hear Jesus ask to use it. It's amazing what he can do with a boat, or some fishes, or bread, or a donkey, or ... a motorcycle.

The problem with outfield

"Simon answered, 'Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.'" (Luke 5:5 NIV)

I have always loved baseball, but I never really enjoyed playing outfield. The action in outfield was just too intermittent and I have always been a kinetic personality. My mother used to wonder if I had "ants in my pants." A valid question considering my love of the outdoors. But no, I just loved to be in motion.

The other problem with outfield was the failure/success ratio. I can remember games in little league where only one or two balls would be hit to outfield in an entire game. That's a lot of pressure for a kid.

For the first couple of innings I'd be out there thinking and praying, "Lord, I'm ready. Let me catch one. OK this guy's a lefty. I'm shifting. I'm ready, let me catch one..." This internal litany would continue throughout the first part of the game, while I rhythmically punched my fist into my glove and joined the team's verbal "chatter."

But if I hadn't had a ball hit to me after three or four innings, the litany would change, "Lord, please don't let them hit one out here. Let them strike out. I don't need to catch one this game. Just let me be good at bat..." After a few innings with no activity, I went cold. I became nervous and fearful. I was afraid of failure.

An even worst scenario was when I missed a catch early in a game. This failure would so demoralize me that I couldn't stop replaying the error in my mind. It's like that one failure would become the enemy of my future success. I'd start playing it safe, afraid to charge the ball, not wanting it to get past me. Instead of running and diving for the ball, I would wait for the first hop, not wanting to fail again. Baseball wasn't fun on days like that. My fear of failure stole the joy of the game.

Life and playing outfield have a lot in common. As a pastor I've had plenty of failures and successes. There's the family that left our church because they didn't feel my preaching was "deep" enough. Followed by the visiting preacher who told me he thought I was the best preacher he'd heard in Wilson. There's the couple whose marriage failed even after I had spent hundreds of hours in counseling with them. Followed by the couple who told me that my prayers and counseling had "saved their marriage." There was the Wednesday night Bible study where only two people showed up and they looked around at the empty room and decided to leave. Followed by a record-breaking Easter Sunday where people got saved and baptized.

When Jesus called Peter to go out into deep water and cast his nets for a catch, Peter had just come off of a night of failure. He had worked hard all night and hadn't "caught anything." Peter hadn't quit the game of fishing, but he wasn't ready to go back out yet. He was doing important stuff. The nets needed washing and mending. He was good at that. He would play it safe. He would go out again, soon, but not yet.

But Jesus called Peter to go back out immediately. Not only that, He called him to go deep. Not just in the shallows close to shore, but out there in the deep water, where the risks are greatest. And Jesus asked Peter to do one more thing, "let down your nets for a catch." He challenged Peter to believe. He wanted Peter to learn to trust Him for success.

I've noticed that a past failure is perhaps the greatest enemy of future success. A failed business, a failed relationship, a failed attempt at a dream and we're ready to give up. We become fixated on the time we "worked all night and caught nothing," instead of obeying the Lord who calls us into the deep to make a "catch."

I believe that the Lord is calling us into the deep now. Let's put our past failures behind us. Let's prepare to run and dive for a catch!