PANTS ON THE GROUND

When ministry folks get together we share a common practice of swapping funny church stories, some verifiable, others perhaps legends. These three stories are true.

This one happened to my niece, Kathleen. Her husband, Jonathan, recently became pastor of his first church.

She told me the story on the phone between my bursts of laughter.

STORY #1

“Aunt Kathy, it began as a typical Sunday morning. After service I was standing at the back of the church with Jonathan waiting to shake hands with our members and visitors. There is one couple who attends named Ralph and Mickey. He has been sick for a long time and is only able to come occasionally on Sunday mornings. As they approached me, I shook his wife’s hand and told her how glad I was to see her. She continued on into the foyer.

As I saw Ralph coming with his cane in hand, I reached out to greet him with a handshake. As our hands met, I looked down to see what was moving below him. His loose fitting pants plunged to the floor with no warning.

It felt like he was playing a trick on me. Hands shake! Pants drop! But he didn’t seem to realize what had happened so we just kept shaking hands. No trick. He’s oblivious. There he was…all I could see was blue boxers and two white, skinny legs that didn’t seem to match his round tummy.

Still in utter shock that this just happened, at church with a line of people wondering what the hold up was, all I could manage to express was, ‘Been losing some weight, Ralph?’

After he admitted that he needed to go up a notch on his buckle, his wife returned from the foyer to see what was taking him so long. She saw his embarrassing state but turned right back around, ignoring his helpless plea for sympathy! I can’t say that I blame her.”

I hear Ralph shows up every once in a while, snaps his suspenders and winks at Kathleen, assuring her everything’s intact!

STORY #2

I was the sole witness to another funny incident that almost took place one Sunday morning during service. Benny, a mentally challenged man, often came to the altar to get saved over and over at the invitation after the sermon. One of our deacons would come pray with him then gently lead him back to his pew. Folks smiled kindly, understanding this strange ritual.

However, this day Benny got slightly out of sync. Ushers came to the altar, I prepared the offertory at the piano and all heads were bowed in prayer. Except mine and Benny’s. He apparently thought it was the altar call at the end of service, so he left his pew and stood quietly right behind one of the ushers. I knew a startled collision was about to take place at the prayer’s end when the usher would pivot and come nose to nose with Benny, who is easily spooked.

I tried to get an usher’s attention. ANY usher. “Psst...psssst...”

Finally one looked up and I caught his eye. I signaled for him to look, pointing to my eyes then back to him. He went from puzzled to gasping. He looked down at his fly. Closed fly. Then back to me, puzzled again.

The long prayer continued, “And dear Lord, today we thank You for...”

“…long winded pray-ers!” I silently prayed myself.

Like a third base coach I continued signaling the usher to look over his shoulder. When he finally did, it was the classic, comedic double-take but mirrored by Benny. They both jumped away from each other, somewhat confused by the presence of the other bug-eyed face.

“And so, Lord, as we ask Your blessings on this offering we are about to receive...”

The usher ushered Benny back to his pew. He then hustled back to his position in the reverent semi-circle, just at the moment of “...in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

STORY #3

One more verifiable story comes from my own demented mind. I was substituting in our church school for about a month. During the third graders’ prayer request time, one boy raised his hand. I knew his parents, Danny and Lisa, well. He was the oldest of four boys, his newest brother just born.

“Mrs. Henderson, pray for my daddy ‘cause he’s having the operation.”

“The operation?” I innocently asked, knowing his dad was not sick.

“Yeah. He and Mama had a deal. If it was a girl, she’d get the operation. But it was a boy so he gets the operation.”

Expert on the obvious, I suddenly became enlightened. But the blank, little faces filling the room were still...blank, unenlightened. And I intended to keep it that way. We prayed.

Then my idea took wings. “Doug, when you print the church bulletins for this Sunday, I need 2 pulled out and printed up special. On the back can you please print this?” I handed him my version prepared for Danny and Lisa:

SPECIAL CHURCH PRAYER REQUEST

Dan Jr. became a big brother again this week and asked his 3^rd grade class to pray for his father, Danny. According to him, Dad agreed to have the operation if it was a boy. We all know it was a boy. So please pray with this class for Danny as he recuperates.

I recruited the usher at the door nearest their usual pew. “Just hand them the two special bulletins from the bottom of your stack when they come in.” A big cohort-in-crime smile spread across his face.

Carefully guarding his bulletin batch until they arrived, he beamed, “Good morning!” to them, as he dealt from the bottom of the deck.

As I played the prelude I kept one eye on the scene unfolding. They settled the boys into the pew, spoke to a few friends nearby then Lisa picked up her bulletin to read it and Danny followed suit soon after.

I waited until she finally turned to the back and began to read. Her eyes grew bigger and her posture more and more erect until I thought she might stand straight up. Instead she leaned over to her husband, frantically pointing to her bulletin. As he read, they both turned pale and in near panic, began to scan the very full sanctuary of other bulletin-readers. Their heads boinged as if they were watching a tennis match!

Right on cue the usher slipped beside them, pointed to me and explained that no one else had a special bulletin.

Danny laughed but her scowling eyes fell on mine. I realized I had the gift of lip-reading when she silently mouthed, “I’m gonna kill you.”

She didn’t. But she never forgot me either.

Live so that you make indelible marks on the lives of others.

Living fully and laughing hard,

Kathy
I welcome your comments here. Feel free to become a follower.

SILENCE AND SOLITUDE

Until a few years ago those two words were

* not part of my life
* strange as a spiritual discipline
* the polar opposite of my personality

It began when Doug and I attended a conference, Shepherding the Staff, for associates in the ministry. Henry Blackaby was the main speaker. But one of the break-away sessions was with an author, Ruth Barton. Her book, Silence and Solitude, was my only purchase. Her session was powerful.

My journey of learning to listen to God has not been an easy one. It’s not natural. But it’s essential. Noise, busyness, distractions, frenzied ministry itself all cause static that blocks out the voice of God.

We type A’s love lists, doing, planning, organizing and talking. We take control, abuse power and even take pride in it. It’s the American way, the busy, bootstrap-pulling life! I hear it all the time, “I got so much done today…very productive…full day of ministry…” Spiritual success is measured this way.

Meditation--some New Age, Eastern invention, right? I was skeptical at first, thinking mysticism. Then I began to see it in Scripture.

How in the world did a man after God’s own heart, David, get so mixed up in this cult thing? Psalm 119:97 “Oh! How I love your law! I meditate on it day and night!” His writings are peppered with this practice, we no longer practice. The Old Testament speaks of prayer. We pray. And of tithing. We tithe. Of reading the Word. We read our Bibles. Of Worship. We go to church together.

God called Moses to just “be there.” I AM is there. Are we? In the moment? Still? Quiet? Like Samuel, do we ever just say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”?

Agenda. For me, that was the key to recognize my need here. In every Christian habit, I set and control the agenda. Control freak! I’d never say it out loud but by actions, my life said, God, I’ll tell You when and where we’ll meet. I’ll choose the length of time and where in the Word You may speak to me. I’ll decide how much time, money and energy I give to You. I’ll even make a list of what I pray about. MY listening is not a part of my prayer life. Our relationship is all at my planning.

The audacity!

Probably brokenness drives us to change more than any other motivator. A need becomes so desperate or our rope-end becomes so frayed that we MUST cease from our doing. Frazzled and needing God to even breathe our next breath, we finally limp to Him to listen.

“God whispers to us in our joys, speaks to us in our conscience, and shouts to us in our pain." C.S. Lewis

My learning to practice silence and solitude is ongoing. It’s still not easy nor natural. I have to be intentional about it. Several things help.

A PLACE

At first I found 20 minutes in the tanning bed to be an ideal place.

No interruptions, nothing I could do, so it became my daily listening time. God spoke. Not audibly but often through Scripture hidden in my heart. But HE decided what to bring to mind. It might not have been the wisest place so eventually I found my own back yard (away from the phone, computer, TV, even the doorbell!) In milder weather it's a convenient, quiet place for retreating.

A PLAN

Sometimes distinguishing His voice from my own thoughts is a challenge. Practice helps. Journaling also helps. “Thoughts disentangle themselves as they pass through the lips or fingertips.” This slows me down in the process long enough to really listen. I have a section labeled “Listening.”

While commentaries and other helps are not wrong, I find using only my Bible is a more powerful way to truly hear God speak to me personally. I can’t say it’s a daily practice yet, but I’m trying.

A PROLONGED TIME

Also I try to get away from home and everything familiar for a few days a year, for a silent retreat with Him. I'm at the beach this week on a third honeymoon with the Lord!

Such refreshing times fill and renew me. Focusing on the Lover of my Soul resets my sails to keep me on course. Hauling myself into dry dock for maintenance, recalibrates me to then sail farther and faster for real kingdom work.

Hearing sermons, teachers, getting counsel or reading what others write is good but His message of love becomes much more personal when I extend the time to just listen to Him. God and I time becomes precious. We tend to settle for “the echo of an echo of an echo”--what He’s spoken to someone else.

This is the air I breathe, Your holy presence, living in me.

This is my daily bread, Your very Word spoken in me.

And I, I’m desperate for you.

And I, I’m lost without you.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oad8ov10AjY&feature=related 

I hope you'll consider making quiet listening part of your conversational times with God. There are many books, like Silence and Solitude, to guide in this. Jesus Calling by Sarah Young is a great example of journaling, listening to God as you read Scripture.

God has fresh Bread, baked especially for me every day. For you too. Just let Abba Papa serve you. “Be still and know... God.”

In His Grip of Grace,

Kathy
(Graceful Grace): http://kathyhenderson.blogspot.com/2009/10/graceful-grace-my-big-brother-bert-bb.html

The Rest of the Story

A couple of weeks back I shared a dialog from our kids' childhood, about New Year's resolutions in a blog entitled "Oops!" You can scroll down three blogs to read it or click below, to get the back story here.

http://kathyhenderson.blogspot.com/2009/12/ill-be-home-for-christmas.html

Excerpt:

Oops!

"How was children's church today? " I asked our young kids on a crisp, January Sunday.

"Fine," Kimberly and Kent piped in unison.

I probed with a more open ended approach, "What did you learn?"

Without hesitation Kimberly announced, "We learned about New Year's revolutions."

Our smiles prompted Kent to offer, "I think it's called New Year's revelations, Kimberly."

Not to be outdone by her younger brother, she concluded, "No, you're wrong, Kent. I remember now. It was New Year's reservations!"

Oops!

Mistakes are not limited to children...

(prophetic words)

BACK TO THE PRESENT: With that apparently on his mind, Doug mentioned New Year's resolutions to our congregation that first Sunday morning in January. But his tangue got tunguled and he couldn't get the word right. He looks over at me and laughs because we both know why. Then he tells the congregation our inside joke. Turn up your speakers and look at the effect of our two kids nearly 30 years after they spoke!

Then moments later, our pastor, Dr. Mike Gay, stumbled over the same word in his opening sermon illustration, the 10 most commonly made resolutions. Second video below:

Thanks, Kimberly and Kent! Never let it be said you don't listen in church. Your influence lives on!

Love,

Mom

HEAVENLY CROUTONS

Recently I scurried to church one Sunday morning. I ran through my checklist as I slipped into the car.

Coffee? Check.

Bible? Check.

Music? Check.

The one thing I neglected was the one thing I needed most--quality, quiet time with the Lord.

But it's Sunday, Lord! You know how busy we are for You today. Just speak to me on the way.

Yes, it IS Sunday, Kathy, My day, the one day I asked you to set aside for ME...not busyness FOR Me.

Lord, I did read Anne Graham Lotz's email devotion.

That's good. You spent time with Anne who had spent time with Me. But that's not My voice to you.

Then on the 7 minute drive to church I heard a sermon. Not on the radio but in my heart. The Holy Spirit did the preaching. If you call stomping my toes preaching.

The text that came to mind was the feeding of the 5,000. My thoughts intermingled with His and seemed random so I'll share them with you as they came to me. Later the pieces came together and fit. Me.

That little boy's mother baked him fresh bread for the day, enough to nourish him for a little while. I had fresh Bread for you too, Kathy, but you chose instead to gobble down a heavenly crouton! Anne's old bread. In a quick, stale bite.

That child's mother knew what he'd need for his day and he obeyed her by taking it with him. I know what your day holds too but you're not ready.

Then I remembered what I'd actually read by Anne. It hit me hard on my harder head!

Receiving His Resources

John 6:3, NIV

Jesus went up on a mountainside and sat down with His disciples. As Jesus and His disciples rested together on the mountainside, we have the beautiful picture of the Good Shepherd, making His sheep lie down in green pastures, leading them beside the still waters, that He might restore them on the inside. Jesus knew the demands that would be made on the disciples and Himself that very day, and He knew in order to meet those demands, they had to have some time alone together.

Again and again, I have been amazed to discover that the verse of Scripture or thought or insight that God seems to give me in my early morning quiet time with Him is the very same verse or insight or thought I am called on to give to someone else during the day. Many times I have wondered how I would have been able to speak a "word that sustains the weary," had I not first received it for myself in those brief, early morning retreats. Jesus offers us ample resources, but we have to receive them from Him in order to impart them to others.

Wow! Lord, I didn't even digest the crust bite, did I?

And I'm supposed to lead people in worship? I'm so sorry.

I forgive you.

My mind then went to our daughter, Kimberly. She'd phoned us the day before, "Mom, I woke up this morning with a song on my mind, Jesus Took My Burdens All Away. He's used that song so many times to help me through hard times. But today I thought, 'Lord, what burden? I don't have one.' But He knew I was about to. He was getting me ready. I'm so glad I spent time with Him."

"What's wrong, Honey?" I asked.

"It looks like we could lose our house." Foreclosure. But she was at peace. Her peace was not morsel size but sumptuous. Doug and I told her how proud we were of her and John's walk with the Lord. Her daddy then prayed with her over the phone, moving us all to tears.

Back to my mental car-sermon on the drive to church: That little boy's bread went with Him and Jesus used it to nourish way beyond his mother's plans and his little expectations for the day.

Lord, I'm so ashamed. What if someone needs a word from You today and I'm the one to deliver?

After the praise team practiced, we formed our usual circle to pray.

But I confessed and shared my thoughts with them right there on stage. Heads nodded. We've all chosen to munch croutons instead of sit and feast at His banquet table. And we've been spiritually anemic on fast food. Or spiritually anorexic on none!

Then one of our singers, a beautiful teen, Katie, shared, "Mrs. Henderson, last night a schoolmate of mine died in a traffic accident. Her brother was driving and they were all thrown from the car...I've been able to talk to friends about God who would not usually listen...this brought death home. We don't think it can happen to us!"

And a child shall lead them.

Thank you, little boy, for sharing your loaves and fish.

Thank you, Kimberly, for sharing by example, in the face of real loss.

Thank you, Katie, for sharing beyond the music, to broken hearts around you.

The Word of God for the people of God.

Join me 'round God's table so we'll get His full, daily

Blessings!

Kathy

I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS...EVENTUALLY

Men and their toys! Christmas really brings out the kid in them. This year’s gadget of choice was a Garmin. Sounds like an exotic rodent to me but it’s a GPS. That’s basically a woman’s voice doing what I’ve done for years–telling Doug how to drive. And I do it for FREE!

Tom toms used to be drums used by Native Americans for communicating. Now it’s yet another brand of GPS. According to my husband, Garmins are better than Tom Toms.

My brothers like gadgets too and when we took a cruise together last spring, we drove straight down I-95 in our own three cars. I read Reader's Digest as Doug drove, following every verbal command from his GPS. There were no turns through three states to Florida, yet every time we stopped for gas, a drink or restroom she gave verbal instructions. Even while cruising on the interstate she’d interrupt my reading just to tell how many miles we had to go.

“Doug, could you turn off her voice?”

“I don’t know how yet.”

“Then could you turn her down or the whole thing off? I’m trying to read here.”

“I like it.”

“It’s a straight shot for the next six hours and you never appreciated ME doing the same thing!"

Come to find out, Bert and Ricky were both using their new toys too. I’ll admit not one of us got lost or made a wrong turn. Then again, there was ONLY one turn and Bert just followed our car right to the motel!

This Christmas we decided to give Garmins to our kids. Now living in Minneapolis or Canada means a lot of travel, so for John and Dave, our sons-in-law, this was ideal. Kent, our son, actually bought his before Christmas. We met at a beach house for the holidays. Doug and Kent used their Garmins, the others had clear print out instructions. I drove down early. Over the next five days, all five vehicles got LOST within one mile of finding the house!

I'd wandered in circles for 15 minutes, passing Sea Trail entrance signs over and over.

Finally in the literal fog of night I spotted a fire department.

“Sir, I’m lost but I know I’m close.” I read my address to him.

“Just make a left here and an immediate right, ma'am, and you’ll be there.”

I was. Finally.

Next night Doug drove down to join me. My phone rang.

“Kat, I’m close but got mixed up.”

"Ohhhh, so Miss Garmin didn’t get it right either, huh?" I didn’t say. I thought it but said instead, “I know, Honey. I got lost too.”

I tried to direct him but my brain was still in the fog and his landmarks were not lining up with my memory.

“I’m on the right street. I just saw the sign.”

So I stepped out onto the deck, peering up and down the dark street. No red truck. Still on the phone, I suggested, “Honk, Doug! I’ll listen for your horn. Then I can tell you hot or cold.” No horn, except for the faint sound on my cell phone.

Maybe Indian tom toms were actually better!

Finally he made a turn and I phone-cheered him from the deck, “I see your headlights, Doug!” Come on down two more houses...”

Later we realized he’d entered the street information as West instead of East. "Of course it wasn’t HER fault, Miss Perfect Garmin!" I didn’t say again.

Hard to believe, but all three kids got turned around and meandered in too. John called for help, “Mom, I just passed Sea Trail."

"Oh, good! That means you're close, John. I remember passing it."

"Was it on your left or right, Mom?"

“Yes.”

Well... I DID pass it several times going back and forth too. I just couldn’t remember where it was on that last jaunt, just before I found the fire department! (They really are heroes. Even if they laugh at you.)

I turned the phone over to Doug. Then I heard him say, "Food Lion? Just stay there, John, I'll come get you." That works too. Heroes don't always wear uniforms. But Deputy Doug did rescue them in his red truck!

A few days later, when the kids opened their gifts, it was, “Wow! If there ever was a family who needed a GPS, it’s ours! These babies were made for us! Cool! Thanks, Mom and Dad!”

Progress? I’m not so sure. Spivey’s Corner, NC, has an annual hollaring contest and I’ve always thought my “Woooooo hooooooo” could win. It embarrassed the kids when they were small but when it signaled them to come, they always found me.

My Papa Tippett had a rebel yell that he once whooped out of our car window as he approached his home, after a week away. The whole neighborhood knew he was happy to be home, even if I nearly wet my pants!

Hog calling works too. Even better, I have an old dinner bell on my deck.

Farmers used it for generations to signal anything from dinner time to “Fire!”

I once was lost...and so was every member of the family.

But now am found...eventually getting home, with or without gadgets!

Wooooooo Hooooooo! Ya'll come back next week for more hilarity from

The Hendersons