Malachi at Home with Grandpa

Nothing I can say will be better than a picture of me holding my grandson while he finds his thumb! Grandparenting is great!

Evangelism with a Twist

If you are interested in knowing some of the cutting edge, pushing the envelope types of evangelism and worship that is going on in churches, please read this blog by a pastor doing something new and refreshing:

http://www.vinceantonucci.com

Blood Diamonds

We just finished watching the Leonardo DiCaprio and Djimon Hounsou movie, "Blood Diamonds". It tells the horrific story of the carnage created in places like Sierra Leone where the mining of diamonds has been used to pay for bloody civil wars and genocide. Meanwhile, those of us in the West go blindly shopping for diamond rings and baubles that have been bought with the blood and suffering of millions.
In the course of the movie the depiction of the torture inflicted upon the people of Sierra Leone by their own rebel forces results in the amputation of young men so that they are unable to either vote in elections or carry arms against the rebels. It is not just Hollywood drama but an accurate depiction of the real thing. The picture of this young man with no hands attests to the maiming that has been done and is still being done by rebels and opposing forces on the citizenry of various African countries. How can someone do that to their own countrymen and women? How can you kill a mother or child in cold blood merely for the benefits some mineral can give you? Of course, this is just Africa where backward people with no real morals kill each other for sport, isn't it?
We who are white and from the West look down on those peoples of color who do horrible things to each other. Blood Diamonds, the Killing Fields of Pol Pot in Cambodia, the Rwandan massacre depicted in Don Cheadle's "Hotel Rwanda", the Rape of Nanking by the Japanese Imperial Army in 1937-38, etc. There are no shortages of people of color killing themselves. How conveniently we forget the millions who died at Stalin's hands in the Gulags, or the holocaust ovens of Hitler, or the genocide of Turks against the Armenians, or the ethnic cleansing of Bosnia, or the death toll at the dreaded Andersonville Prison during our own Civil War. These were not people of color killing themselves, these were basically white, Euro-Centric people who did unspeakable things to one another. No, the color of your skin does not dictate the level or depth of inhumanity one group accomplish. It is sickening.
Yet, there persists in the vacuum of postmodernistic thinking the idea that sin is a universal constant. We seem desperate to hold on to the idea that humankind is "basically good". We want to believe that such things only happen far away from us and never in a civilized society. But the biblical picture of the world still rings true in spite of the assault against it. In a world that hates itself, sin is the predominant force that drives the relationship of human beings, countries, and the world. I'm afraid that Sally Fields statement at the Emmy's is naive: ""And let's face it; if the world was run by mothers, there would be no...wars." No, I'm afraid there would be. Because human beings, regardless of gender, have the same problem - we are invested in sinful living. And the cure isn't thinking good thoughts or trying self-help books. Dr. Phil may help some but he is fighting a losing battle. The sin in our society is not a social issue but a spiritual one. And sin cannot be eradicated by tolerance, acceptance, and non-judgmentalism. It can only be changed by the power of God changing the soul of a person. Anything else that we try creates the same sad situation that was depicted in "Blood Diamonds".

Those Leaving Ministry

Joanie and I are enjoying the days with our new grandson and his parents. It has given me a few moments to pause and reflect. I just read my friend Lloyd Moritz's blog and it has prompted me to write this one. His facts and figures about what is happening to ministers are disturbing, to say the least:

Within 5 years of graduating from Bible College or Seminary 80% have left the ministry.

The average tenure of a pastor in a church today is only 3 years.

The average tenure of a pastor's ministry career is only 14 years.

Two thoughts strike me about these disturbing figures. First, as someone preparing to teach seminary students who are either about to enter the ministry or are already in ministry and seeking more knowledge, what do I need to do to combat these alarming statistics? What are the implications for teaching and preparing candidates for ministry?
Second, what is wrong with our churches that they have this kind of effect on ministers? I realize their is a corollary to this - what is wrong with our ministers that they are leaving in such huge numbers? I don't doubt that there are numerous candidates for pastoring that are seeking pastoral ministry for all the wrong reasons. I don't doubt that there are ministers out there that make a mess out of their situations and leave the ministry or the church because they have done the wrong things in the wrong way. I'm sure I can count myself among those who have done the wrong things and gotten himself into trouble.
However, I have had my ministry shortened at two congregations by the actions of men and women who should never have been given the power to make life miserable for the pastor. At one church, the culprits were three leading laypersons whose personal lives were a mess and whose actions were immoral. Yet, they were trusted and the pastor was "the hired hand". One of them went on to create the same havoc in another congregation before the leaders stopped him by supporting the pastor and creating church discipline. One of them left the church after his moral failure came to light. The other one stays at the church and continues to make life miserable for both pastors and laypersons alike. I should note that the other culprit at this church was a fellow minster and staff person. He was believed and affirmed while I was chastised and condemned. He became the pastor, lasted 18 months, had a moral failure, destroyed his family, and left the ministry. Obviously there was no spirit of discernment that undergirded that church.
The second congregation decided to listen to a faction of people led by two men who have no moral or ethical character. They spread lies and rumors; they made untrue and slanderous statements about my wife; they gathered around them spiritually immature believers who had this thing or that against me (though they would never talk to me about it) and made huge claims of power and support that they never had. I left because God called me to go into this PhD program, but I could not have stayed very much longer under the kind of attack these folks put me and my family under. Where are those two "leaders" now? They have left the church. One a layperson who now fancies himself a minister (hmmm) and the other, again, a staff person. The staff person has shown his colors by becoming a Baptist and joining the staff of a local congregation whose doctrine and polity are directly opposite the Church of God. Folks, something is wrong with our churches when the pastor is the object of scorn and distrust and church "leaders" are given more power than the witness and testimony of their lives deserve. If we keep doing this, the numbers at the top of this blog report will only get worse.

To The Heartland

We are halfway across the United States (from California to Illinois) and we did it after Joanie had spent the day teaching school. From LA to Chicago in a little over three hours. Not bad, not bad at all. As I prepare to go to bed (I will be the last of the household to hit the hay) I have yet to be able to greet the newest Frymire. That will all change at 10:30 am when we go to the hospital to see Joel, Shafali and Malachi. It has been more than a year since I have seen my son and his wife. Too long to go between visits. But all that will change when the morning (its 2am here) hits and we are off to the maternity ward.
Joel sent us this picture this afternoon. Malachi is 24 hours old in this pic. According to Joel, he has already changed features and looks different than he did yesterday. Isn't that amazing? We were created to change. But it seems the older we get the more we fight against any kind of meaningful change. We struggle to hold on to the comfortable while the very nature of our bodies and lives seeks change.
I've changed. OK, maybe not since yesterday, but I've changed this week. I've become a grandpa - that's a change! I've grown a goatee (anything to hide part of the mug - this is my collegiate rebellion phase) - that's a change. I've taken on a new ministry position at Church of the Foothills in Pasadena - that's a change. I'm taking two new classes in the Fall - that's a change! I'm married to Joanie - well, that's the same thing I've been for 32 years. But being married to her always brings about new things in our lives together and we've both changed even over the course of this summer as she has recovered from hip replacement surgery and we've adjusted our lifestyles.
God changes. That sounds like heresy, doesn't it. I thought he was the same yesterday, today, and forever? But God does change. He changes us. Salvation is his desire for each and every one of us and that is a profound change. And when God is in relationship with human beings who are in a constant state of change, doesn't that somehow change him or, at least, change the constantly changing dynamic of his relationship with a fallen, broken world that is being changed daily by the changes that are being made in people's lives by the Great Change Agent Jesus Christ?
I pray that if someone takes a picture of me on the inside and compares that with another picture of me 24 hours from now, I hope it shows that I have changed. Why? Because I know God is changing me even as I write. Even as I yawn. Even as I go to bed. Because, when I wake up tomorrow, I get to see Malachi. And nothing will ever quite be the same again.

Just 3 Minutes

At 7:00 on Wednesday night, my cell phone rang. Joel was leaving work and wanted me to know that he would not be calling me at his usual time (he calls me after he leaves work at 2am Illinois time/midnight California time) for us to talk as he rides home. He was on his way home early last night. There was much excitement at his workplace. His boss came rushing through the facility with a golf cart to pick up Joel and get him out to his car. THE Call had come. Shafali was in labor - she thought. After a couple of days of Braxton Hicks (contraction like pains that mimic the real pains) and the loss of the mucus plug, the time was now. The contractions were 13 minutes apart.
After Joel got home he was told that their OB-GYN had told them that they shouldn't come to the hospital until the contractions were 5 minutes apart. Wow! Just 5 minutes apart! On top of that, they had about 40 minutes to go to get to the hospital. In my mind, that seemed to be cutting things particularly close. But, then again, I am not a doctor (I played one on TV once - OK, not really, but you get the picture). At 2am his time (his regular time to call anyway) he called with Shafali in the car on the way to the hospital. The contractions were now closer to 3 minutes rather than 5. Wow! Just 3 minutes!
At 7:30 this morning a text message saying that they had made it through the night and that Shafali was 3 cm dilated and they were doing fine. Then......nothing. For the rest of the morning and into lunch, no word. I'm sure they were busy. I didn't expect a lot of communication. Too much going on and you have to concentrate on what's happening in the room, for sure! How long would it take? How far along was Shafali? How were things going? Then, at 1:23 California time (3:23 in Illinois), my phone beeped. The beep meant that a message was coming through. I assumed it to be a text message from Joel - an update on the progress of the birth. Instead, no words, no explanation, no update, no report - just a picture; a picture worth a thousand words. The picture of my grandson.
Not too long afterward came a call from the proud papa. As he related the amazement that is inherent in experiencing the birth of your first child, he told me something that amazed me. Now, I was there for the birth of both Jonathan and Joel. I experienced what Joel experienced today. After Jonathan was born, I went out and called my mother who was too ill to attend the birth. Joanie's mother was with us during the whole delivery - as was Doug. I told my mom all that I could about what I had experienced. But the one thing I couldn't do was allow her to see her new grandchild. It would be nearly a month before we could travel to see her and allow her to have a few minutes with her new grand baby. She was robbed by the cancer of even being able to see her grandson for nearly 30 days. Now, nearly 3 decades later, her baby boy is being called by her grandson to share in the birth of a new grandchild. Like my own mother, we were not able to be there for the birth (we are on a plane to Illinois tomorrow). But there is one notable difference. I got to see my grandchild less than 5 minutes after his birth. You see the picture above, taken by Joel, was taken when Malachi David was only 3 minutes old. Captured on his cell phone, he sent it out to me within 5 minutes of the birth. Malachi was born at 3:19 on a Thursday afternoon in September - on the 13th. And at 3:23 on that same afternoon, his grandfather received the very first picture ever taken of Malachi. I didn't have to wait 30 days or even for tomorrow night to arrive. I only had to wait 3 minutes. Just 3 minutes. Ain't it amazing!

Getting Ready for Malachi to Show Up

We are washing dishes (OK, Joanie is loading the dishwasher) and washing clothes (OK, Joanie washed the clothes) and getting ready to leave California for Illinois on Friday. It is such a hectic time for us: Joanie has just begun school (this is her second week) and I am just about to start school (begins on the 24th). I have a syllabus to get ready for a class I am helping to teach (on Creative Preaching) and a lot of preparation for the Preaching with Passion Conference that is coming up in October with Dr. Lloyd Ogilvie (I am the conference director or some title like that). This is the worst time to be taking 10 days and going away. . . unless you get to see your kids and be a part of the birth of your first grandchild. Then, it is the best time to be going away!

We spend so much of our time doing things that sound important and that we treat as important we can miss the things that are important. Classes and schoolwork, education and work are all important. But, they will be here when we return. The birth of Malachi David Frymire will only occur once. And nothing can or should keep me from that moment. Now, he may arrive before we get there (you know how births can be) but we will be there when he is but moments old. Like my children before him, I want to be a part of his whole life. I watched the joy my boys had in growing up with a set of grandparents like Joanie's folks were (my Mom and Dad died before my kids could get to know them). Their lives were enriched by the influence of these two wonderful people (Dad still influences them all greatly and, with Mom having passed away a few years back, Dad's wife Tina is now a continuing wonderful presence in their lives) and I hope that Joanie and I will have the same opportunity to influence Malachi as he grows. He will enter the world with wonderful parents who already love him and are excited about the joy of parenting.

So, we are getting ready for Malachi. Doing the most important thing we can do. We will be present. You know, that may be the most important thing we ever do - show up. Be there. I wish more people understood that when it comes to church and worship. How much larger and more dynamic would our worship services be if everyone just showed up every Sunday. Attendance would double at most churches (no exaggeration). We live in a society that believes that attending church once a month makes you a "regular" attender. It's the only place where that attitude lives. You are not a valued employee when you show up a couple of times a week. You are not a good student if you only go to class sporadically. Showing up means a lot. I went to my kids games, concerts, plays, and musicals. They could always count on Joanie and I showing up. It was important for us to be there. We wanted to be there - but it was also important to be there. I have become more and more convinced over the years that God desires to bless people who are faithful in worship - who just show up regularly. I even think that God expects us to show up and is sad when we don't show up. I remember when I was young and got to playing with friends and forgot to show up for lunch or dinner. That never made my parents happy and it always led to me being less than happy.
So, Malachi, when you show up your grandparents will be there. And that says a lot.

Out From the Safety of the Sanctuary

I spent most of the past week watching a group of about 20 children play soccer in the parking lot of the church. The goals were quite creative -but makeshift; The "field" had no grass - just macadam; The games had no referees - just parents and volunteers cheering. It may not have looked like either a soccer camp or a VBS - but actually was both. In a most unusual and creative departure from the usual VBS format, the children were instructed in both soccer and in the biblical applications that can be found in such a venture. A unique event and process to be sure. Two things struck me quite strongly:

1. It is amazing what happens when the church gets out of the sanctuary and into the world. While pastoring in Fresno we moved a Fall Festival celebration from the sanctuary area out to the frontage road. We went from a couple of hundred "church" folk to nearly 1,000 people from the church, neighborhood, and passers-by. Something like that happened here, albeit in a different way. By taking the VBS program from the church building to the parking lot, we attracted several families that were simply passing by. Literally. A father drove by and saw what was happening, went back and got his child and they, in turn got other children and parents to come. That would have never occurred if the children were couped up in classrooms or in the back of the church were no one could see them. You may be able to tell from this picture that the church is located on a fairly busy street. The parking lot is more than adequate for any cars needed for Sunday worship or for the preschool that the church runs. As a result, no one ever parks on the street. You can drive by the church and never notice that it is there or that anything is taking place. But not last week. Last week there were cars parked on the street. Parents, volunteers, and leaders were forced to park on the street. And, as cars passed by, they couldn't help but notice all the cars and all the activity going on. Young people out in the church parking lot having loads of fun. That image says more to the community than any advertising campaign a media company could devise.
   
2. It is amazing what happens when church people get off their Blessed Assurance and begin doing ministry that matters. When I interviewed with the Church of the Foothills about being their interim pastor, one of the leaders said that they had considered making a new sign for the front of the church that said, "Church of the Foothills - the church with no programs." An admirable thought, but what they really meant was that they gathered together for worship but not much else. But you should have seen them this week. Working together, playing together, interacting with folks from the neighborhood and the preschool. Suddenly, their faces came alive and their attitudes changed as they saw the fruits of their labors being manifested on the faces of the children.
   

I don't know if this will change the church or the neighborhood, but I do know it will do more than all the average services and leadership meetings that have taken place over the last few years. Lives are changed when the church abandons the safety of the sanctuary for the rough and tumble world of ... well, the world. More things can happen in a parking lot than anyone can imagine.