Tag Archives: prayer

The “One”

25 Sunday Sep 2016

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My sister-in-law, Brooksie, invited me to tag along with her to a weekend conference. Where? Daytona Beach. How could I say no to that? Brooksie has lots of wonderful qualities, two of which are “no guilt” and “no expectations,” so I knew this would be a true Sabbath weekend. And that is what it has been.

This morning, as I walked the beach, the lifeguard emergency vehicles came racing with their sirens blaring. Up ahead, I could see a crowd gathered. Since this is off-season, there are no crowds, so I knew something was up. As I got closer, I could hear a lot of cheering. Given the television news of late, I wondered if I was approaching some kind of demonstration.

crowd

Then I looked toward the water and saw what the fuss was about. Seven baptism stations…all occupied.

baptism

The youth group from Faith Assembly of God, Orlando, was concluding their weekend youth retreat with 300 baptisms. 300! For about 20 minutes, I attended Faith Assembly of God and found renewed hope for the future.

The lyric,“There’s nothing too dirty, that you can’t make worthy. You wash me in mercy, I am CLEAN!” kept running through my head. If Brooksie had been with me, she would have started singing. I’m guessing they would have joined her.

I have been on a Facebook fast, feeling convicted to spend more time praying. Facebook was stealing far too much of my time and my joy. The prayer that drove the fast is “Lord, send a revival to our college campuses.” As I stood watching the celebration this morning, I wondered if the answer to my prayers was starting right where I was standing – with the youth group at Faith Assembly; a revival that could spread to college campuses and maybe even reach some too-long satisfied, saved, sanctified, sour adults. Wouldn’t THAT be something!

As I turned to walk back to our hotel, I saw the lifeguards pulling a man out of the surf. I learned he was a near drowning, after being sucked into the undertow. My eyes took in his jeans, his leather belt and the look in his eyes as he walked past me to the lifeguard station. I couldn’t help but wonder if his too-far walk into the sea was accidental or purposeful.

The lyric to another song, one the teens would not recognize, began playing in my mind.

i-was-sinking

This morning I witnessed one near drowning and 300 safe…and I was reminded, once again, that the 300 are mine to celebrate. The one? He is mine too. Luke 15 reminds me that Jesus leaves the 300 to find the one.

Who is your “one” this week? Who is mine?

Fasting May Be Old Fashioned But It Still Works

01 Saturday Nov 2014

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During my sixth and seventh years of life our family lived in Glassboro, NJ. I can’t say I have a lot of memories of those years but among them are the woods behind our house that served as our playground; woods filled with poison ivy and a path that led to the sewage treatment plant, scientific experiments that included slugs and salt, the beautiful teenage girl that fascinated me when she used orange juice cans to curl her hair, mom giving piano lessons to Steve, the Sunday night dad and a couple of laymen staked out the dark church hoping to catch whomever was stealing the altar flowers every week and my introduction to fasting.
Glassboro woodsWednesday nights were called “Prayer and Fasting” and since our home was dubbed “the parsonage,” you can be sure we participated. I don’t recall mom and dad eating anything but, since there were four children between the ages of 4 and 9, some semblance of dinner had to be served.

Among my facebook friends there are many who would give a hearty “yes” to the question “Can I get a witness?” regarding the culinary skills of my mother. She could compete with any 5 star chef. Not only that, she has always been the master of creating fellowship memories around a table filled with incredible food.
feastBut my memory serves a very different story when it came to our Wednesday fasts. I remember long faces staring at bowls of soup and no homemade bread in sight. I also remember the night mom cut and fried an eggplant so that we thought we were getting the very rare treat of French fries. Suffice it to say that my brother Dave never did take well to food trickery and he is still bitter about this event in his life.
eating soupI don’t know if it was my early childhood experience or the fact that I’m one who can get busy on a project and simply forget to eat but, I have never been one to fast. Enter early November, 2013. Forty five years after the eggplant debacle. And God, as only God can, began speaking to my heart about a fast.
fastingMy heart had been growing increasingly heavy regarding a personal situation that was not resolving with me in charge.  Fancy that!  Because I skip meals by nature, God was asking me to fast sweets…through the holidays…and trust HIM to work out my concerns. So there I was, already with all of our decorations in storage and now facing the choice of obedience regarding the absence of cookies, cakes and cheesecakes. I love sweets. Even more, I love Christmas sweets.
DSC_0322You know what is so interesting? When I made the choice to obey, giving up the sweets was not even difficult. It was the obedience part that was most difficult – the first step. Then God took over. And in His loving way, He put a guard over my mouth regarding the situation and He worked all things for good as I committed the situation to Him through prayer.

My plea was not immediately resolved. It was a process. But the process now belonged to Him.  My hands were off.  His hands were on.  Things were now in proper order.
prayer and fastingColossians 4:2 Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving.

Dear Layman…

18 Saturday Oct 2014

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Dear Layman,

Last week I wrote a letter to your shepherd leader.  This week it’s your turn.  I’ve never been a pastor so my letter to your leader was also a letter to my own leader.

I have, however, been a layman.  When you are a pastor’s wife (which I am) you are sort of stuck in between but, because my husband traveled as an evangelist for twenty years and I mostly stayed home, I got to be a real, live layman and I liked it.  There are freedoms afforded laymen that pastors never have.  I even spent several years serving on a church board.  If nothing else confirms me a layman, that certainly does.

And so I have a few things on my heart to say to you…and to myself.  Some of them will morph between my lay eyes and my parsonage eyes.  All of them are said from a heart of love.

We all have reasons for choosing the church we attend.  Sometimes it’s simply where our family has always attended.  Sometimes it’s the only church of our chosen denomination in the town in which we live.  Sometimes it’s for good preaching or preferred music or friends or children’s ministries or youth groups.

None of those are bad reasons.  But in every church we attend, there is a pastor hoping and praying for laymen who support him.

So how can we support our pastor?

1)  Pray for him.  Every day.  Whether we like his preaching or not.  Whether we agree with his leadership style or not.  Whether we liked what he wore last Sunday or not.  Whether we think he’s paid too much or not.  Whether his kids behave or not.  And especially if his kids don’t behave.  Pray for him.  It’s our chosen church.  He’s our pastor.  Pray.for.him.
Pray for your pastor2)  You and I can either be his cheerleader or we can be a huge discouragement to him.  It’s our choice.  Choose the high road.  Choose to treat him the way you want your own family members to be treated.  My first pastor’s wife (aside from my own mom) was an elementary teacher.  She had a wall plaque that said, “My teacher thought I was smarter than I was, so I was.”  I loved the sentiment when it hung in her home and I love it now.  Over the years I have allowed it to morph into any area where someone holds leadership over me.  For example:  “I think my pastor is better than he is, so he is.”  You and I really can make that much difference.  Will you choose to?
cheerleading3)  Stay mindful that the pastor is called to shepherd.  You aren’t.  I’m not.  We should be very slow in telling him how to do his job.  I am amazed when laymen who have never felt a call to vocational ministry tell their pastor how to pastor.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard a pastor tell a layman how to run a classroom or how to manage their business.  So why do we tell our pastor how to pastor?  Do I believe there is a place for a review?  Yes I do.  But even there I think we need to be very prayerful and careful.  An effective review can and should benefit everyone; pastor and people.  Do I believe there is a place for disrespect?  No I don’t…ever.

4)  Let’s agree to stop saying, “I’ll be here long after he’s gone.”  I have heard these words in every church I’ve ever attended.  I’ve heard them in churches where I’ve visited.  I’ve heard them at camp meetings.  I have heard them on a boat.  I have read them in a note.
brainsWithout exception those seven words are spoken when a) we don’t like our pastor and we’re going to let everyone know, or b) our pastor has hurt us.  Those are two very different scenarios.  One makes me want to say “Grow up.”  The other makes me want to say “I’m sorry.”  Yet, in either case, the person hurt the most is the person proclaiming the words.  Those words keep us from getting involved.

They hurt the very church we love more than they ever hurt the pastor they are spoken against. 

Why?  Because we likely WILL be here long after he’s gone. 

And he’ll likely go someplace better.

But us?  We’ll be left in a church that has missed out on years of our good, positive contributions.

5)  Let’s stop expecting our pastors to be counselors.  Most aren’t trained to be and simply get into trouble when they play them on TV…or in their offices.   Instead, let’s protect our pastors by providing them with a list of counselors they can recommend when the need arises.  Part of the problem here is that counseling is expensive and our pastors are free.  Remember: we get what we pay for.
lucy-psychiatrist6)  Applaud his time away.  Whether we see it or not (and we don’t), his job is 24/7.  Bless his vacation.  Hold him accountable to a Sabbath every week.

7)  Allow the pastor to dream.  His dreams are for us.  Support his vision.  Build up.  Don’t tear down.

Be responsive to your pastoral leaders.  Listen to their counsel.  They are alert to the condition of your lives and work under the strict supervision of God.  Contribute to the joy of their leadership, not its drudgery.  Why would you want to make things harder for them?  -Hebrews 13:17 (Msg)

8)  Pay your tithe.  Paying tithe is second nature in our home.  My husband and I were both raised to give God His portion first.  When you start that as a kid, it’s pretty easy to continue it in adulthood.  That said, I realize many, many of you were not raised that way or you came to faith later.  So paying tithe is a difficult concept for you.  Maybe you are so over extended that you really can’t give 10%.  I understand that.  Just start somewhere.  Give something.
tithing-giving-offeringsIt’s not about your pastor.  It’s not even about your church.  It’s about you and God.

It’s a subject for a dedicated blog, but I am amazed at how our money stretches when we honor God with it.

9)  Be generous.  My experience has been that when a church is generous with their pastor, they are a generous church in every area.  Keep in mind that there is a huge difference between generosity and control.  One is a blessing; the other is anything but a blessing.  Be generous.

10)  Love the pastor’s children.  As laymen we really do have the power to either help parsonage children come to a place of faith or land in a place of bitterness.  With all my heart I believe we will be held accountable for how we treat our pastor and the effect that has on his children.  We should never kid ourselves.  It does affect them.  No matter how old they are…
PKSo there you have it from one layman to another.  It’s pastor appreciation month.  Let’s honor him this month but, better yet, let’s honor him all year.  And let’s include his family.

I’d love to have you join me.

JoAnne Hancock