Oh Yeah! I have a blog...

I have not so much forgotten as I have neglected. With all the good intentions of creating a profound and wonderfully insightful space about life, love and the Lord, I skip it, neglect it, overlook it, put it off for another day.

Procrastination is one of my hobbies. I love to start a project, I just can't seem to finish. I have several pieces of furniture in the workshop, at various levels of restoration. I have notebooks with the first chapter of any number of books that I want to write. I have fishing gear that is ready to be tuned up and restored over the winter. (I actually got those out of the boat and to the garage - progress!)

I like to play golf every now and again. The crucial component of the golf swing is the follow thru. Swing thru the ball, finish high and balanced, and your golf ball goes long and straight. So they say. Of course, that applies to all of life. Sweet sounding words are meaningless without action, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, etc, etc, blah blah blah. If the follow thru is what matters, why do I so neglect it?

My grandmother, Mary MacKenzie Dollard, was a wise woman if ever there was one. She had a word for what I need. Sticktoitiveness. We might call it perseverance, or endurance, or dedication, or a bunch of other things. Sticktoitiveness is a good word. It is what I need some more of.

The anonymous author advised us to run with endurance the race that is set before us. That is what I want to do, as a man, as a writer and blogger, as a dad, fisherman, carpenter and friend.

Its a party now...

I was fortunate to have celebrated twenty five years of (mostly) wedded bliss with my darling this past week. Pretty exciting and quite a milestone. Our awesome kids and wonderful sister-in-law threw us a party. Nice. Very nice.

There are a bunch of folks I know (mostly around my age) that do not make twenty five years, and marriage as a whole is on the rocks in our world. And that is sad. Far too many couples that started out with the best of intentions and hearts full of love and passion have fallen by the wayside, ended in a painful and ugly crash. And I do not know the details of why that happens, there are probably as many reasons as there are divorces.

I have found marriage to be a terrific state of mind and state of living. My wife and still love each other, and even more amazing, we still like each other. We have found a principle that works well, and I share that with you now... Here it is, the secret to a happy marriage. Take notes if you like.

Respect. We respect one another. We respect each other as people. We honor each other as individuals. Because we respect one another, we do not try to dominate one another. We do not try to control, and we do not attempt to manipulate. We respect. We each allow that other to be who we are. I do not need to "fix" my wife, she has given up on trying to "fix" me. Because I respect her as a woman and a person, I do not try to tell her what to do, where to go, who to be. She can decide that for herself, and she gives me the same freedom and leeway. Because I respect her, and want the best for her, I avoid those things that would hurt her feelings or damage our relationship. Because she respects me, I am more able to love her. Because I respect her, I am more able to give sacrificially to her and to our marriage.

The Apostle Paul wrote about marriage in the Book of Ephesians, chapter 5. Part of what he said causes great controversy in the world today, where he wrote in verse 22, Wives, submit to your husbands. In our day of equality and cooperation and liberation, most of us read that with a bit of distaste in our mouths. And we know that far too many men have abused that verse and expected their wives to be a doormat and do only what he tells them too. But that is not what Paul is saying at all. Paul is saying that wives ought to honor their husbands, respect them and allow them to be the men that they are.

And even harder to read and accept is a couple of verses later, in verse 25, Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the Church and gave himself for her. Well, what does that mean? How did Christ love the church? He died for her, He sacrificed His own wants, desires, His very life, for he betterment of his church. And if men would do that, and love their wives like that, and give of themselves for her edification and honor and well being, I believe that women would find it very easy to respect and honor their men. But when men fail to love sacrificially, then women have a hard time fulfilling their part of this. And conflict comes, and love falters, and pain follows.

Respect and Love. Its a good thing. And it really works even in today's crazy world.

What comes next?

I have written and deleted the first sentence here five times in seven minutes. How to begin, what to say...

I want to complain that I am so busy, that my life is full of stress, that I am overloaded and there are too many thigns to do. I want to cry and moan and b!%&# about it, but I really cant. Yes, a single week with two funerals and a wedding, plus all the other regular things is a full plate. Yes, I have been going pretty hard these days, but the truth is I love it.

I love being tired at the end of the day. I love being availible for people in crisis and doing some practical good in the world. I love sharing the most difficult and intimate moments in the lives of my friends. I love what I do, and I love the people in my life.

Ministry is a tough gig, no doubt. You get to be open for criticism and complaint, you get too much responsibility for any individual to bear, and you loose sleep over other people's problems. If one is in ministry and has no sense of the divine call to the work, I imagine it will kill you, drive you crazy, make you into a sniveling wreck.

But there is a powerful presence in my life that sustains me. The Spirit of God goes with me, strengthens me, watches over me, gives me wisdom and grace to deal with all the stuff. And it is good.

I love every minute of it. I love the people in my life. And I am happier these days than I have ever been. Life is good.

Technology is great.

But I still don't understand it. People smarter than me have gotten our new church website up and running, and you can link from our website right to here. That's kind of neat. My next chore it make a link from here to there. Look for it on the sidebar.

Anyway, Thanks Karri C, for all your hard work in helping Charles Town Baptist a 21st century church.

Some New Thing

I've seen this done a thousand times. Just needed to try.

Here we go again.

If I could just do it once a week. No, not that, but this. If I could just find a few minutes to scribble on the keyboard to share a thought with all of you on a regular and consistent basis, perhaps I could call this blog project a success in ministry instead of a pain in the neck. Enough of that.

Vacation last week, and it was a grand time. But no ordinary vacation. Part of the gig was a memorial service for my father, Wayne Hotaling, dead last fall at the age of 70, from liver failure. Sad in too many ways.

So anyway, I met my up with all the family on the lake in the Adirondacks where we would spend our summers way back when. It was a great day, bluebird skies, old friends, lots of laughter and a bit of sadness. We scattered his ashes in the lake, probably breaking several laws, but the only fitting place for a man who spent the best days of his life in such a beautiful place.

Because I am the minister, I got to share a few thoughts with those that had gathered. About life, and the shortness of time, about my father's absence in my life and how I learned to deal with it. I chose the route of total honesty, with a large hand full of grace and forgiveness. The message came out alright, and I think it was helpful to some of my family that had been struggling with it all. But it sure was hard. Good, but hard to do.

It seems I think about him more now that he is dead than I ever did when he was living.

Bigger is Better?

I read the writings and musings of many of my ministry colleagues. Those that write and publish more than a two-bit blog seem to have a large realm of influence. I go to conferences and hear the mega church-preachers talk about having six thousand people come to their churches on Sunday morning. I see church facilities that rival the Hilton Hotel chain. I must admit I am a bit envious, because we all know that bigger is better. And within church circles we celebrate, like the rest of America, the big, the well known, the popular and the glam.

One of the great joys of being a local church pastor is people. What is church if not people? Certainly not buildings and budgets. Church is people, people are church. And being the pastor of a church gives me a great opportunity to connect with people. And help people connect to one another.

Why are more people feeling lonely and alone in metropolitan areas than rural? Why do crowds amplify isolation? Shouldn't it be the other way around? The bigger the crowd the easier to get lost. So why do we think that bigger is better in church? Isn't the idea in church for folks to be known and accepted and loved by a few other folks, in order to bring a little Kingdom of God to the world?

I admire the mega church folks, with the smooth talking heads and the TV contracts and fancy buildings. They are doing their part to magnify the Lord. But the vast majority of church communities in USAmerica are significantly smaller. and the smallness of community creates an opportunity for unity, friendship, fellowship and intimacy. It is a great joy to know and be known.

Bigger is not always better. Relevant and effective is better and that is not connected to size.

Road Trip

What a weekend. 2500 miles, 36 hours in the car. Round trip from West Virginia to Louisiana. Lots of time to ponder life, look at the scenery, and eat french fries.

And now Tuesday feels like the worst Monday ever. It is hard to get started again, because my brain is not quite engaged. The idea to take a little time off when needed is a good one. An even better idea is to take the time off and get some rest, so that when returning to the place of duty, one is fully prepared and energized.

I should not complain. The trip was necessary for the sake of one of my family members. My daughter had a major presentation and I went simply to support and encourage her, to acknowledge a year and a half of exceptionally hard work. So I do not regret the trip. I just forgot how taxing it was going to be.

You would think it would be easy. Most of what I do concerns thoughts, ideas, and words. If I could just think up some words, tell my fingers the letters and what order to put them in, and then it would all just take care of itself. Not so. Good ideas are hard to come by, to express them into coherent language, to communicate with clarity and impact is difficult on the best days. Nigh unto impossible on the fuzzy days.

Scarlet O'Hara would give good advice here. I'll think about that tomorrow. For today, I will resign to the fact that I am getting next to nothing done, and just let that be.

Its about Time...

I started thinking the other day, which is usually dangerous, about time. How much time is spend doing the various things I do, where I go and why, and that sort of thing. Because there never seems to be enough time to do all the things that need to get done. Am I the only one that is short of time?

168. We all get the same 168 hours each week. No more, no less, cannot use them like rollover minutes, cannot save them. We can only spend them, at the rate of 168/week. A relatively large number of those hours are spent asleep. Sleep is productive and important, but not in the ways we want them to be.

There are a variety of demands on my 168. I must be a husband and a father. I must be the pastor of the church, which includes a whole variety of various tasks. I must care for our belongings like home, cars, yardwork. 168 seems not to be quite enough to do all those things. Perhaps a 36 hour day, and 252/ wk would be more practical.

And there are some things I seek to do, not must do, but want to do. I want to find more time to write, this blog, the various books I have in my head. I want to go fishing. I want to spend more time with the people I care about. I want to travel to Cabo San Lucas and scuba dive. Time, sweet time.

The Bible tells us in Ephesians 5 See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. Circumspectly is a fancy word for carefully. Foolish folk waste time. Wise folks are careful and conscientious about how they use that most limited resource, so that the time spent is productive and beneficial to self and others.

I have come to the conclusion that there is never enough time to do everything that one seeks to do. 168 is just not enough to get it all in. But what we can do is do the important things well. And the other things may have to be left undone.

There is one more thing I must do. This is not an afterthought, but deliberately mentioned last, so that it will be remembered by you who read. I must be close with God. I must know Him and be known by Him. I must look into His Word regularly, I must communicate with Him regularly in prayer. I must spend enough time with God so that His presence is the transformative agent in me. And that takes time.

Those were the times, weren't they?

I was talking with some friends the other day, an older couple, and they began to tell me how things have changed so much, that life is not like it used to be, and then it came, that dreaded phrase, that which makes me cringe... The Good Old Days. I listened politely while my mind wandered off. I courteously nodded my agreement, and discreetly got called away to another conversation.

What good old days do folks so fondly remember? Exactly when were those times that everyone remembers so fondly? Was it the seventies? How can those days be considered good? Just look at the clothes. How can anyone remember how good the seventies were because so many people were so high all the time?

Perhaps the sixties were the good old days. When the country was on the verge of disintegrating over Vietnam, with civic and political assassinations, riots in the streets. Did we forget that so quickly?

In the fifties, rock and roll was coming on strong, and the folks longed for those days before Elvis could swing his hips on the TV and before all these kids went crazy. Surely the fifties were not the good old days.

Was the nineteen forties the good old days, when the entire world was at war? When there was rationing, shortages, and telegrams expressing the deepest sympathy of our country?

Shall we continue? Was it the thirties, when unemployment was at 30%, when the middle of our country was a dust bowl, when the entire world was in an economic depression? The twenties, during the era of prohibition in which the common man became a criminal, and the criminals were the law?

When were those good old days that are so fondly remembered? Before indoor plumbing? Before electricity? When we lived in caves and hunted in tribes? How far back do we need to go to get to the good old days? What exactly are we longing for?

Instead of pining away for that which never existed, might we instead just begin to make these days better? Can't we just live to make today the best we can make it? Why don't we instead try to get some control over our lives today, try to spend this day a little more constructively. Maybe tomorrow will be the best days ever, if you and I will just work toward making it so.

God Bless You.
Brian

Words seem to fail.

Yesterday, I officiated a funeral service for a friend. Mike was fifty years old, with a grown son and a teenaged daughter living at home. He and his wife had been married 23 years. Less than a year ago, they called it cancer. Chemo, radiation, all the things that you do. Yet, here we are. Sad in a lot of ways.

Mike was a firefighter by profession. And every fire department for 40 miles was represented at the funeral service. The bagpipes played Amazing Grace. The trucks were draped with black. Hundreds of people came to say farewell to a friend and colleague.

I know God loves us. I know He cares for us and provides for us, and is with us in the good and bad times. I can give all sorts of intellectual and theological arguements for when bad things happen to good people. But none of those debates or discussions has the ability to heal the deep wounds of grief, loss, tragedy. And for the life of me, I can not seem to find the words. I cannot give a good reason that a brave and a decent man would be dead of cancer at a young age. Had it been an accident, a tragedy while Mike was saving a child from a burning building, it might be different.

The loss of a friend, a vibrant life-loving good man, hurts in so many ways. The so-called experts say that God has a plan. The well meaning religious folks produce some trite comments like "God just wanted Mike in heaven with Him." And to be honest, none of that kind of talk seems very satisfactory.

There are so few words, and so much pain.
God Bless You, Debbie, Angela, Eric and family.

From the Desk of Pastor X-

ESPN the Magazine has a recurring column written by an anonymous NASCAR driver that details the sometimes ridiculous and often dangerous life behind the scenes of motor sports most popular series. Likewise there are blogs and articles from Player X contributed from the NBA, NFL, and MLB.

Ministry is always a struggle. Church members struggle with one another over the direction and leadership of the church. Personal conflicts get in the way of loving our neighbors. Mean spirited people and small minded church members sometimes attack their pastors. Committees wrestle for control and the esteem of men.

On the other hand, ministry often filled with great joy and incredible opportunities to express love and grace. We get to witness and participate in the changing of lives. We get to share in some of the most intimate and memorable moments in the lives of our church family. For those of us that are preachers, we have the awe inspiring privilege of being the spokesperson for the Lord, and we can boldly proclaim a timeless truth.

Vocational ministry is often a misunderstood profession. Within the church, the membership seems to think that the pastor is a benevolent uncle that is always there to help them in time of need, easily dismissed in time of plenty. Outside of the church, the pastor is considered at best an oddity, an intellectual that avoids the real world, a holier than thou ready to point the finger of condemnation, or at worst a charlatan hypocrite that is cloaking his own perversions behind the walls of a church.

In truth, I find ministers to be hard working men and women that believe deeply in a God that loves, a faith that heals, and a church that is flawed and less than perfect. We are misunderstood because often we misunderstand. We too, are impacted by the fallen nature of man. We too, are confused, hurt, rejected and abused. We too, have our hang-ups and histories. But in spite of the faults of the servants, the Word and work of the Master continues.

Grace abounds, lives are changed and the Image of God that remains in the soul of man grows strong enough to overcome.

Twice in One Day...

I have had someone tell me about this blog project, and ask the obvious question... Why so infrequent? Why only one a month or so? So here are my answers, in no particular order--

1. I am lazy at heart. Writing requires thought. Thinking deep and clear thoughts is difficult. I would rather play Bejeweled.

2. I am busy. Like a one armed wallpaper hanger. Like a one legged man in a kicking contest. Like I can sit around all day and think up something (see #1) wise and witty to write about.

3. I used up all my good stuff last Sunday.

4. I forgot about it.

5. It is just too hard to put into words. I deal with the same emotions and thoughts and feelings that everyone else does. And I have the added benefit (read burden) or helping others deal with their emotions, thoughts, feelings as well. because that is what the pastor does. So I often carry some intellectual and emotional loads. Sometimes they get heavy. Writing them in a blog causes me to lift them all again.

I like to blog. I really do. I like giving you some insight into my thoughts and ideas. I don't so much like the effort of making a worthwhile post. And that is the truth of it all.
See you in a couple weeks.

Spring is in the air-

The worst winter in the history of the eastern Panhandle seems to be over. It is early yet, and the ground hog did see his shadow, but the snow is mostly melted and the sun is mostly shining, and the robins are coming back. Optimism is a great thing.

Yet another puzzle is upon me. As I am building some momentum in this new place, as I am growing relationships, developing trust, finding out who is who and what team they are playing for, I find myself perplexed. First impressions are usually false, and I knew that when I made my mine. The truth of the matter is revealed slowly, like a jigsaw puzzle, or an artist's canvas.

I am being pointed in some directions for this ministry event, I am developing the picture, I think I know what I see. But I do not have confidence in what I am seeing. Is there more than meets the eye? Has the portrait reveled itself to the degree of accuracy required? If I decide on direction, staff, purpose and vision today, will the call stand up under further review? or shall I just keep my head in the booth, keep everyone waiting for a few months, let the payers get cold and frustrated, and take my chances?

Death by meeting tonight. I anticipate much discussion, little conclusion, and perhaps one more plot of color in this panorama before me.

If I was faithful...

to writing on this on this blog, you would see something every day, or couple of days, or at least once a week. But I am not faithful to writing. And that bothers me, probably much more than that bothers you.

Why are we not what we choose to be? What is in us that fails to live up to our own expectations and desires? In a perfect world, I would decide to be a generous, fun-loving, happy man who forgives easily, loves readily, and enjoys heartily. Simply decide to do that, and then do.

But the world is not perfect, and neither am I. And I can decide to be happy, and caring, and I can tell myself to be faithful to the writing or to God or to my hobbies. But none of those things happen simply by a single choice or desire.

In concert with the big life cahnging resolution, I must decide daily what I will or won't do. I must resolve continually to become that which I desire to become. Over and above the resolve and decision, then I must actually do. It is the performing of the deed that counts. It is the giving of love that counts as love and it is the writing of the words that makes one a writer. The old proverb reminds us that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

The apostle Paul said eloquently in 1 Corinthians 15, I die daily. In context, Paul was speaking of the surrender and submission of the human nature in order to more fully experience the divine. It must be continual, It must be built as a habit.

And I think that applies broadly, in whatever area of life that we want to point at. As we are becoming something, we must be loosing something else. If I am becoming the writer I wish to be (or the husband, or the pastor, or the musician, or you fill in the blank) I must deliberatley and intentionally be loosing the person that prevents me from writing.

So that is my journey these days. Perhaps the title of my blog is more apt than I thought.