Celebrity Preacher

 We just finished our sports camp yesterday with our good friends from First Baptist Church of Hammond, LA who came to help us. Their pastor, Jeff, is a great friend of mine. We only see each other once a year, but pick up where we left off. We tease each other and on a dime can turn serious about real life. He is more than a friend. He is a trusted brother. He is also a practical joker. He pulled off one of his greatest pranks on me yesterday. 

During football camp, one of our campers needed to go to the restroom. I took him to the parsonage because it was closer and waited for him outside. Jeff pops up out of nowhere. I didn't think much about it.  He was up to no good as I would discover later in the day. 

I saw one of our deacons cleaning our marquee, which we have not used in months. I thought that kind of odd. At lunch one of our ladies said we need to put something up on the marquee that will stay there a long time. I was clueless that the damage had already been done about an hour and a half earlier. I'll explain in just a minute. 

Fast forward four hours. We were cleaning up after camp when Jeff's team told me I needed to go outside. I knew there had to be a joke. I walked out reluctantly and suspiciously, but everything appeared to be in order including the blazing heat. They directed my attention to the marquee. I was mortified. Here is what Jeff put up there. 

Come hear celebrity Pastor Matt Edwards Sundays at 11:00 a.m.

On the back side it read, Pasta Edwards Sundays at 11:00 a.m.

Let me address the Pasta Edwards. Many years ago Jeff and I were driving to Dallas along with some other ministers for a training event. We left early on Monday morning. The night before I ate some buttered noodles. Nothing else. Something about that made me sick. I either got food poisoning or a virus. On that four hour drive, I made Jeff pull over on the highway so I could vomit on the side of the road. Each time I got back in the car stating, "I am healed in Jesus name." About fifty miles later we had to pull over again so I could vomit again. Nothing dignified about throwing up on the side of the road while other cars are whizzing by. That happened seven times and now Jeff calls me Pasta Edwards. We both get a laugh out of that. 

Now the other side of the sign. I admit it was a great prank. What mortified me was thinking about all the cars that passed by in the near six hours that message was on the marquee without my knowledge. I AM NOT A CELEBRITY PASTOR. It sickens me to think that anyone would read that sign and think of the arrogance of a church and pastor to put such a message up to be read by those passing by. How many were turned off by such a pompous message. How many Spring Creek people read that and wondered why I would call myself a celebrity pastor? The message meant to be a funny prank horrified me. 

I am no celebrity. Out of all the people God could have chosen in the world to preach His word, it is a head scratcher why He chose me. I certainly did not choose myself. I am rough around the edges. An untamed barbarian in some ways. Not diplomatic. Nor am I eloquent. The messages I preach are passionate but definitely not polished. I have tried to be very careful over the years not to steal God's glory. I know it's Him working through me and not me displaying my talents on stage. 

To think about people seeing that message for six hours makes me sick. Turner took it down before the Hammond team even got out of Parker County on their way back home. 

Any good that has ever come from my ministry has come from Jesus. Not from me. I once served a church as pastor that televised services. I got asked to preach a funeral for one of our families in a neighboring town. When I walked into that church I heard two ladies talking, "I heard that new pastor at FBC Seminole is preaching this funeral. Is he as good as everyone says he is?" Neither lady knew me. As soon as I heard them say that, I prayed, "God it is not me. It is you doing the work. You help me preach. You work in the people's lives. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with You."

I have always known it is God working through me and not me performing on a stage. He inspires the messages. He opens the scriptures to me. He grants anointing to preach or teach them. He convicts. He saves. He encourages. He blesses. He grows the church. It is all Him. I NEVER want people to think that I am pompous, arrogant, boastful, and braggadocios. I constantly think of [John 3:30] He must increase and I must decrease. Put another way, Jesus is a big deal and I not a big deal at all. 

For anyone who might have seen that sign, I apologize for the message it sent. It was a prank. A very good prank. That is not my heart. I am no big deal at all. I have pastored churches with less than a dozen people in them. Spring Creek does not even have 100 people in attendance most Sundays. I am not a celebrity. JESUS IS THE MAIN ATTRACTION AROUND HERE!

What Is A Man?

 There is a lot of uncertainty out in society about gender identification. The arguments are complex. The stances are entrenched and the feelings are passionate and volatile. It is not that difficult. The truth is, it is very simple. You can read it for yourself in Genesis 1:27. In that passage it clearly states that God created them MALE and FEMALE. God determines gender. Period. 

I came across a phrase this past week I had not heard before. TOXIC MASCULINITY. It means to be aggressive, dominant, courageous, and powerful. These things are seen as something bad in males. Whoever came up with this term prefers a more passive, submissive, and weak brand of men. There is an all out assault on masculinity. Like people want men to apologize for being men. If you do not believe me just pay attention to men in sitcoms. They appear stupid and incompetent in comparison to their female counterparts who appear smart and leaders of the family. 

God created men with the intrinsic nature to be aggressive to defend who and what they love. Men are dominant so they can ruthlessly fight evil to protect those they love. Men are powerful and courageous through their Creator God to go into battle when needed, to risk life and limb to rescue those in danger. These are all things God put in men. They are not traits to be ashamed of. Yes, any of those traits can be taken to extremes which could cause harm. I am not talking about that. I am referring to these traits used within boundaries to provide, protect and brave the cruel world for those they love. 

Manhood is not cursing the loudest, guzzling the Devil's brew of alcohol the most, driving the biggest truck, having the most toys, being at the top of the company, or having the biggest salary. Being a man has nothing to do with those things. Being a man, more importantly God's man, has to do with being in a right relationship with God. Leading his family into a right relationship with God. Providing for and protecting his family. Being a man of integrity. Loving his wife and being available to his children. All of those are part of what it really means to be a man. 

When does a boy become a man? At puberty? When he gets a driver's license? Once he starts making a living for himself? When he gets married and starts his own family? There is not a definite time in a boy's life in America when he knows he has stepped into manhood. What I see all around is a lot of grown up boys in men's bodies still acting foolish. Given to playing video games like kids, chasing more toys like kids, partying like teenagers, and acting immature as well as irresponsible. 

Things only get worse when little boys grow up without a father present. I am a product of such a home. I did not have a man to show me how to turn wrenches, build things with saws and hammers, be responsible, how to shake another man's hand, look them in the eye when talking, and numerous other things. Boys without fathers are crippled in many ways. Not one time in my life have I ever heard a man say, "I love you my son. I am proud of you my son." I have never known the love of a father. I have known the love of a Heavenly Father. [PS 68:5]

Just before King David died he spoke to his son Solomon who would become the next king. You can read about that in [I Kings 2:1-3]. David told Solomon to be strong, act like a man, and to keep God's commands. Pretty good advice for men today. 

I once went through a study for men where they tried to define what it means to be a man. I asked many men young and old that question this past week. I got answers all over the place. Some could not answer. How can men behave like men if they do not know what a man really is? A real man will be a courageous leader for his family, one who accepts responsibility for providing and protecting those he lovers. He will also be a warrior willing to fight evil to protect those he loves. Real men should also be tender to express love for the God who created him and those people he loves. May God raise real men in this hell bent society. 

Burying the Past

 What things have you buried from your past? Things you shoved down deep to forget. Hurtful things. Abusive things. Wicked things. I certainly have. Things I tried to forget, ignore, move on from, and dismiss. Sometimes those things do not stay buried. They claw their way up from the grave of our memories demanding to be dealt with. 

The psychological scars of being whipped with a bull whip by an uncle and having a step father throw water in my face as a child on a picnic are deeply engraved on the walls of my mind and heart. Growing up without a father has also impacted my whole life. It made me driven. Driven to succeed so people would not think of me as a failure. 

It compelled me to work harder than everyone else in athletics. It pushed me to work harder and harder in ministry. I was always chasing a dream. Striving toward an elusive goal of success. I lived with the constant frustration that I could not pray enough, study enough, write enough, evangelize enough, or plan enough to taste success. 

I grew up feeling inferior. Like I was not good enough. I fought for respect. My first day on the varsity football team I got in a fight with an upper class man who tried to intimidate and bully me. I stood toe to toe with him unafraid, angry, swinging wildly, and battling for respect. Respect of my coaches. Respect of my teammates. Self respect. I could not stomach being seen as a failure. 

The haunting echoes of failure have reverberated in the chambers of my life my whole life. I do not know where it originated. To compensate, I pushed myself to succeed. I set my alarm clock before school to workout. I skipped lunch at times during high school to get in an extra session in the weight room. I ran in the hottest part of the days all to avoid being a failure. 

Ministry was much harder than athletics. Things like salvation, repentance, church growth, church unity, and church finances were much harder to navigate. It really did not matter how much extra work I put in. The results did not always follow. My self worth rose and fell each Monday depending on what the previous Sunday's attendance had been. I was not equipped to deal with strife in the church. I watched churches crumble under my watch care. Feelings of failure sunk me week after week. I tried to grit my way through those days. I faked it. Outside I preached badly, inside I folded like a house of cards that come tumbling down. 

Those difficult ministry years only served to reiterate the feelings that I was a failure. I hated that and did everything possible to become successful. I tried to move onto other ministry positions. I am not proud to report that I have been rejected by hundreds of search committees. For most of them, I did not even make it to an interview. For those that I did, my hopes were dashed when I got the familiar letter that they felt led by God to go in a different direction. Those feelings of failure not only resurfaced, they nearly strangled the life out of me. This in turn moved me into greater frustration which resulted in anger. 

What I could not see is that God needed to break me. He needed to mold me and match my character with His assignment. The school of brokenness is a painful school. I needed it. I had rough edges, jagged points in my personality, a bold unfiltered tongue, and a temper. Failure on top of failure mounted in one church after another. God continued His molding me into a vessel He could work through. He carved out character flaws, applied pressure to push out toxic thinking. Eventually, I swore off pastoral ministry and spent four years traveling full time. The hard preaching made for harder times financially as my style did not fit most churches. I spent as much at home as I did out on the road which I saw as more failure. I could not see the hand of God making me tough, teaching me to pray, strengthening my faith to stand without flinching at His call inspire of impossible odds. 

We tried to plant a church and failed. We enjoyed success at FBC Paradise and FBC Seminole. We left Seminole to plant another church that died a painfully slow death after six years of hard labor. Another failure. After that church disbanded, nobody wanted me again. More sent resumes and more rejection letters followed. Those old feelings of failure lingered. They resurfaced and dominated my psyche. 

That is until God did a work in me. I can't really explain it. He put those feelings of failure to death. Crucified them. No longer did I feel like I had to compete with everyone else in salary, what they drove or where they lived. My self-esteem became anchored in Jesus alone. I finally learned the meaning of what Paul meant when he wrote, "Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am." [Phil 4:11]

My identity is no longer tied up in how BIG the church I serve is. I no longer concern myself with whether I drive new cars or old ones. Where I live is not important. How much money I make is irrelevant. I can be content because I know who I am in Jesus. I know the things I drove myself to pursue that I thought were success were only empty dreams like chasing the wind. I AM NOT A FAILURE. FOR I AM A CHILD OF GOD. MY FATHER LOVES ME. Not based on my performance. I cannot earn His love. I just receive it and enjoy it. [Jn 3:16] [Rom 5:8] Success now is pleasing my FATHER. Being faithful to His call on my life is success. The love of God gives me worth. His love proves that I have value. Intrinsic worth that would lead Jesus to die in my place to purchase my redemption. The love of God buries my past. More than that, the love of God kills my past so it will stay buried never to rise again. [Gal 2:20]

There is freedom knowing I am loved. [Jn 8:32] Knowing I belong to God. I don't have to strive anymore. There is no longer pressure to perform. I can flow in His call on my life and empowering to fulfill that call. It has taken decades to really bury my past and keep it buried. I am the most contented I have ever been in my life and it is all because God loves me. My soul is satisfied in Him. My peace is in Him. Life is worth the living because He loves me and lives in me. 

I urge you to allow His love to cascade over you and allow Him to bury your past for good. To set you free. To live life flowing in His Spirit instead of striving in the flesh. 

My First Ever Journal Entry

 Rummaging through my library this morning, I found my first journal. I opened it with some curiosity. What was on my mind all those decades ago? This is part of what I wrote on July 12, 1990. "Today I came back from seeing Brenda. With every day I spend with her, my heart becomes more attached. I love her more than I life itself. I keep trusting God to renew our love and to draw us close." 

At the time of that entry, we both graduated from college the previous May. She was in Fort Worth well established in her career. I still lived in Brownwood working for the Howard Payne maintenance department and working part time at a little church as a youth minister. We broke up for a year. Our love was rekindled during graduation weekend. 

That was 32 years ago. I am still madly in love with that woman. Just this morning she reached over to hold my hand in the predawn hours. She rolled over into my arms and I held her. After 31 years of marriage, we still love being together. We still flirt. We still kiss in the kitchen when she comes in from work and I come in from my workout. We enjoy sitting in our chairs next to each other. Me reading and her watching television or scrolling through her phone. We love our breakfast dates on the weekends. We certainly enjoy time with our four sons and Taylor's fiancé, Abby. We also enjoy just being together the two of us. 

Back on July 12, 1990 we lived hours apart. We did not have cell phones. We wrote letters and I made several weekend trips to see her. Being away from her for weeks on end felt like muscle being ripped from my bones. All these years later, I still get to enjoy her. I still bask in the time we spend together. I love her more now than I did back then. 

I also wrote something else of interest back in that first journal entry. "I long to serve a church and I patiently wait to see God's hand in this. I want to pastor a small church outside Fort Worth somewhere. I know God has a place for me because my heart is burdened for it."

Fast forward 32 years. I am now serving as pastor of a church outside Fort Worth in Weatherford, TX. A church God would allow me to serve as youth pastor just before Brenda and I were married on June 29, 1991. A church I dreamed of coming back to one day as pastor and believe God showed me that would happen in the early 1990's. 

Here I am wedded to the girl of my dreams and wedded to the flock of my dreams. It is amazing to see how God brought all that together. I find it providential I stumbled across that old journal entry. It serves as a reminder that through the triumphant times as well as the travails, God has seen me through. He truly gave me the desires of my heart. [Ps 37:4] Delight yourself in the LORD and He will give you the desires of your heart. 

He certainly did that for me. I trust that He can do that for you too. Sometimes we have to wait for those desires. I did not marry Brenda until a year later after that entry. I didn't serve Spring Creek as pastor for 30 more years, but thank God I am here now. Thank God for His loving kindnesses poured out on this gospel stammerer. 

Living in Big Brother's and Big Sister's Shadow

 Not everyone is blessed to have siblings. Not everyone is blessed to have more than one sibling. There is often a pecking order in families of multiple children. Normally the older rule the younger. There are exceptions to this rule. Natural born leaders can usurp this age graded pecking order. Our third son often led his older brothers when they played as lads. 

Some know the frustration of growing up in an older sibling's shadow. To constantly be compared to them. To face unrealistic expectations because of them. To watch or perceive favoritism on the older brother or sister. In those shadows, some people lose their God ordained identity. They are constantly caught in the spin cycle of the comparison game, not just in childhood, but also through all of life. It is a trap. 

One child may excel at math but hate reading. Another may be a gifted musician while another talented with their hands to fix mechanical problems. One or more may excel in athletics while other siblings may excel in academics. God created us all differently. 

I had the blessing of growing up the oldest. I did not have to live in anyone's shadow. I blazed my own trails. Hard trails for a younger brother to follow. I cannot say that my brother Bill did not have to live in my shadow. He did not enjoy athletics. He loved to tinker and fix things. I loved working out. He loved working on bicycles, vehicles and anything else he could get his hands on. I enjoyed moderate success in athletics. He got lost in my shadow. He had not athletic achievements to show. 

I got saved in high school. Bill turned to more destructive behaviors coping with inner pain none of us knew was even there. He drank. He is very smart, but despised school. He dropped out. I think partly because of me. I have a vivid memory in my mind. We were both sitting in high school classes in adjacent buildings. This is back when classes had windows in them. I was a senior and he was a junior. He saw me and started waving enthusiastically. I think he was proud of his big brother. I never thought he was jealous of me. Instead of waving back, I mocked him to my classmates trying to appear cool. I ridiculed him. When he saw everyone looking at him and laughing he waved even more. He had no idea I was stabbing him in the back. 

I got into Jesus and church. He got deeper into alcohol and other harmful behaviors. He eventually dropped out of school and drifted from place to place. Eventually alcohol trapped him. He has spent the past 30 years in and out of jail for alcohol related offenses. He met Jesus in prison and is active in a church now. I appeared to the good son. I had my demons too.  I fought to keep them secret. I may have gone to church often and learned about Jesus. My secret sins were just as offensive as Bill's were. I just learned to hide them better. I am sured my mom and teachers compared him to me constantly. 

He used to call and curse me out in drunken rages calling me a hypocrite. He was right. I could preach about the love of God to the masses, but I did not love my brother. I could pastor people and minister to their needs, but I ignored Bill. I confess that years went by when I did not even think about him. Out of sight out of mind. 

I saw him at a funeral unsuspectingly after years of no contact. I barely recognized him. Life has been hard for Bill and taken a toll on his body. Just like in high school, he approached happy to see me after so many years. I felt my blood pressure rising and all I wanted to do was to get out of that conversation. I was a hypocrite. I held bitterness toward him for many things. I blamed him for killing Mama because of his antics which led her to having a heart attack. She lingered another three months after that with severe brain damage. He had upset her and I harbored that down deep. He left town soon after her funeral. 

It never dawned on me until today what it must have been like for him to live in my shadow. I enjoyed football success. I got the scholarship to go to college. I graduated college. Brenda and I enjoyed a beautiful church wedding. He had to be there to watch all of it. He could have been envious. If he was I never knew it. People patted me on the back, congratulated me all the while ignoring him standing there. They failed to encourage him. To see his value and potential. 

For the first time in my life, I realize that living in my shadow could not have been easy. God didn't create Bill to be an athlete, pastor, preacher or writer. God created him to be a craftsman. He got the first home computer I ever saw one Christmas. That machine intimidated me. I wanted nothing to do with it. Not Bill. He jumped right in learning how it worked. I asked for a typewriter that same year. He learned to work with his hands. To fix anything. I pay people to fix things for me because my mind is not mechanically engineered. He can construct anything. I failed wood shop class in junior high school. He has skills I will never have. He does his work behind the scenes and gets satisfaction from creating something beautiful or making something work again that was broken. He works hard. Scratching out a living with the sweat of his brow. I sit in an office or stand on a stage to do my work. 

Bill serves people. He is loving, forgiving, and tender hearted. Always willing to lend a helping hand. He is a dreamer just like me. I rarely talk to him that he does not share some new dream in his heart. We stay in touch better these days. I still remember our first conversations after he found my number somehow years in-between any form of communication. He ended it saying, "I love you brother." It was awkward for me to say those same words in return. Over time, I came to mean them. 

Today I celebrate my little brother. A gifted craftsman that I will never be. Much more tender hearted than me. He has fought his demons and found victory in Jesus. He may stumble from time to time. He always gets back up. He works hard every day to stay sober and to scratch out a living for his family. I admire him. He could have just as easily given up. He could have turned away from Jesus during the tough times. He did not do that. So today I say, "Bill, I love you brother. I am sorry you had to live in my shadow. God created you with unique design and purpose. While it is different than mine, it is not less important. Today I sit in your shadow as a master craftsman and mechanic. I'm proud of you."

You were also made with intentional design. Created in the image of God. Formed with purpose. Blaze the trails God ordains for you and do not settle to live in anyone's shadow. You have value to God and purpose in life. 

Disappointed

 A memory surfaced in my mind of my childhood this morning. It was Christmas morning. I was the first one up like I was every Christmas. I went to bed dreaming about the bike I asked for. A bike with shocks that resembled a motorcycle. I rounded the corner to the den where brightly colored presents surrounded the tree. To the side stood a brand-new shiny bicycle. The Christmas lights reflected on the shiny metal. Instead of excitement, I felt disappointed. It was not the bike I asked for. I did look something like a motorcycle, but it was not the bike I had gone to bed dreaming about. I rode it anyway later than morning and for much of my childhood. I still felt disappointed. 

Fast forward to another Christmas morning. I was the first one up again. I rounded that same corner peering into our den seeing all the presents. All I remember wanting that year was a Dallas Cowboys football uniform with a helmet. I passed many a Sunday afternoon mesmerized by that shining star and heroes like Roger Stauback, Tony Dorsett, Drew Peason, Harvey Martin, Ed "to tall" Jones, and Robert Newhouse. I could not believe my eyes. There was a football uniform with a shiny helmet. It did not have a blue star on it. It had a Redskin warrior on the side of it. I received the hated rivals to the Dallas Cowboys with a Washington Redskin uniform and the most despised Joe Theisman jersey. Disappointed again.

There is another Christmas memory. This time I wanted a Mr. Quarterback. This was machine with mechanical arm that threw you passes with a set timer. None of my family or friends loved football like I did. They had other interests. Mr. Quarterback would solve the problem of needing someone to throw passes to me. There it stood. Just like I asked. I could not contain my enthusiasm. It was around 3:00 am. I could not possibly wait to go outside when it was daylight for my first pass. I pulled the mechanical arm back and set the ball carefully in the cradle. I prepared to run through the house for my first official pass. It never worked. I pulled the arm back too far and broke it before ever getting a pass thrown. Disappointed. 

Thinking back over the years, disappointment became a constant theme in my life. I stunk at baseball while my friends excelled. I recall going to try outs. Parents surrounded the field cheering their sons on. Nobody was there for me. My single mother had to work. I rode with a friend. I missed the pop fly sent to me as well as the grounder. I struck out batting. The sting of that disappointment still haunts me. 

Football was my life. I stunk at baseball, but I thrived in football. It was the natural place to unleash my pent up rage from sexual and physical abuse I kept silent about. I took it out on the grid iron. I wanted two things in high school. I wanted to go to the playoffs and make the all district honors team. We did not make playoffs. To my disappointment again, I only achieved second team all district. I felt humiliated and not good enough. 

Disappointment followed me into the ministry. In my illustrious career, I have successfully killed two church plants and nearly killed a one-hundred-year old church, I broke a promise at another church whom I told I would not leave but I did, and I drug my family away from a great church to follow a wild dream that ended in disaster. All disappointments. Added to that was the guilt I felt for making things so hard for Brenda and our sons. 

Disappointments followed when two of our sons had five ACL reconstruction surgeries between them in high school. The pain in the gut on those nights is indescribable. I tried to be strong and stoic for them in the moment. The truth is I crumbled on the inside. I wept many private tears away from Brenda and the boys. I felt disappointed when God did not protect them when we prayed for that time each week. 

I have not only been disappointed in life. I have disappointed others. Namely, Brenda, Taylor, Tanner, Tucker, and Turner. I was harsh. Angry. Demanding. There were pleasant times. It seemed at other times the slightest thing could set me off. The turbulence of disappointment stirred beneath the surface constantly. Like a volcano, I erupted at times turning our tranquil home into war zone. Not something I am proud of. 

Brenda has been the second greatest gift in my life next to salvation through Jesus. Right behind her are my four sons. I made those sons my priority. I spent special time with them. Taught them things that I never had a father teach me. I showed up for field trips, class parties, and coached their teams. I tried to tell them every day that I loved them. I repeatedly told them I was proud of them. I taught them about Jesus. Hugged them. Held their hands walking into stores and restaurants. They grew up so fast. I live with the regrets of the times I disappointed them. 

I thought I would be much further along in life. I thought we would be more financially secure. I thought I would serve a church with larger attendance. We struggle to top 100 in worship on most Sundays. I thought I would be more successful as a writer. Boxes of books I wrote sit unread in boxes. More disappointments. 

There have been disappointments with health issues. Disappointments in relationships with people who come and go out of your life. 

You might ask yourself, where is all this coming from? What got into you Matt to write this? Let me explain. 

A few weeks ago, I had to drive Brenda to work and hang around that town until she got off. We left in such a hurry that day I left my computer and things I intended to work on. I did manage to remember to grab my journal. I took that journal in hand to the public library to spend some time alone with God. A lady greeted me at the door inviting me to come into their book sale. I told her I had thousands of books already and did not need anymore. She insisted I come and look around. I obliged. 

I looked down the biography and autobiography sections. I found books I could not pass up on. Then I strolled down the religious book section. I noticed the title by an author I had read in the past and enjoyed. I pulled the book out and saw it was the same guy. That turned out to be a providential purchase. That book only cost me 1$. 

I started it and immediately got pulled into the biographical story. I shoved it aside for a few weeks due to a heavy preaching schedule. Once things returned to normal, I returned to that book. Like a moth drawn to the flame, so was I drawn to that book. The author suffered the trauma of physical abuse, a father who committed suicide, ministry success, a son who committed suicide, and a wife who turned to alcohol to cope. His ministry success was stripped, he lost one son, and nearly lost his wife as she tried to kill herself more than once. Many of those things hit really close to home. Too close for comfort. 

I was abused. The man I was told was my father got murdered for adultery. I do not even remember his face. I chose not to go to his funeral. Growing up without a father definitely impacted me in negative ways. My maternal grandfather became a surrogate father. He was my hero. He was a former athlete and we connected deeply. I used to watch football, baseball and boxing with him. Disappointment resurfaced when he died my sophomore year. It was one of the handful of times I cried the hardest in my life. He never saw me play a down of varsity or college football. Disappointment. 

Reading that book made things surface that I forgot over the years. Unresolved things. A life of disappointments. Buried wounds. Secrets very few know about me. Like the disappointments of a few Christmas mornings. Disappointment of seldom achieving success. 

I grew up with a single mother. She lived with her parents raising three children. My little sister drowned at four years old. My supposed father beat her. She divorced him and got remarried to another abusive man. She eventually left him. She had disappointments. I blamed her for years for my growing up without a father and for other disappointments like buying the wrong bicycle and getting me a Washinton Redskin football uniform. She did the best she could. I am thankful for all her sacrifices and unconditional love. I was a difficult child to raise. 

I look back and know she did not know anything about football. She had limited finances and probably got the best deals on the bike and uniform. She is gone now. She died on Mother's Day weekend back in 1998. I am disappointed that my kids never got to know her. She died when Tanner was only three months old. She kept Taylor for the first two years of his life. He never mentions her. She never saw Tucker and Turner.

What I can now say through all the disappointments is God has been faithful. He did not abandon me as a little sullen abused boy. He watched over me through tumultuous teenage years. He introduced me to Jesus as a junior in high school. That one moment changed the trajectory of my whole life. He opened the door for me to play football in college. There I met Brenda a couple of years later. She captured my heart back then and has never let it go to this day. God united us in marriage on June 29, 1991. God watched over us in different ministry assignments. He guided us through becoming new parents with four healthy sons. He has provided for us more times than I can recount. He comforted us in deep sorrows. He strengthened us in adversity. He sustained us in times of testing. 

I have not always understood the ways and purposes of God. I have been disappointed with Him on occasion. It was because I did not understand and could not see the full picture of His plan. I declare today with as much integrity I can muster; GOD IS FAITHFUL. THROUGH IT ALL HE HAS BEEN, STILL IS, AND ALWAYS WILL BE FAITHFUL. Even in disappointment.

1 Thessalonians 5:24 (NASB)
²⁴  Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass.  

Forward

 It is easy to waste away our life looking backward. At past successes when we triumphed marvelously. When people thought we were winning at life and on top of the world. We can also look back at mistakes and failures and wallow in that misery for years. There are past regrets that can consume our thoughts. We can remember past loved ones who have now departed to eternity. 

We cannot live in the past. The things that are behind us are history. Past mistakes and successes alike. People we loved who have come and gone out of our lives. We cannot bring the dead back from eternity. We cannot live in the past, tough many try. It is a miserable place to dwell. Some are stuck in pining for days gone by. Days that can never be recaptured. Days that are behind us. The past is gone. The future is not promised. We only have today. 

Paul exhorts us in [Phil 3:12-14] to forget those things that lie behind us and to press forward to those things that lie ahead. I believe God wants us to live pressing forward and not looking back. Past sins have been forgiven. We may not be able to undo the consequences of such sinning, but we can walk with God into holiness for the future. We cannot go back and undo past bad decisions. We can trust Him for wisdom to make better ones going forward. We cannot recapture long lost relationships to the grave. We can express our appreciation for those we love now and not take them for granted. 

We have today. What does pressing forward today mean for you?Are there responsibilities you need to focus on? Is there work left to be done? Is your relationship with Jesus up to date? Is there some unfulfilled task God has called you to complete? 

I urge you to not live in the past. I urge you to live today and make the most of this amazing gift God has granted us called life. I am not suggesting that life is always easy. Not by any stretch of the imagination. In the tough times, we must lean into Jesus a little harder. We trust Him to do the heavy lifting and the heavy pulling. Our faith is strengthened and our relationship with God becomes resolute. We live with all our might while we do live, as Jonathan Edwards resolved to do back in the mid 1700's. 

Press forward. Think forward. Believe God forward. There is much to believe Him for, much to experience, learn, and do for His glory. There are many reasons to push forward. To blaze trails spiritually you have never traveled before. To scale new spiritual heights you have never attained before. I will see you on the journey going forward. 

Gooder and Gooder

 The spiritual war leading up to these camp meetings was intense. The spiritual battles did not lessen once we started meeting. They increased in me. To the point of tremendous stress. I started noticing these bumps on my body that looked like bites of some kind. I first noticed one on my side. The next day I noticed two new ones on my legs. The following day two more appeared behind both knees. The following day another appeared on my leg. I thought we had a spider or bed bugs and pulled the covers back to inspect. Each day new bumps appeared. They did not hurt as much as they itched insanely. 

Then the Monday night happened when I crashed the second day of the meetings. When my faith sunk. When the weight of ten months of yearning, ten months of praying, preparing and trusting God for more. During that time, I read nothing but my Bible and books on revival or praying. On the second night of the meetings, when the attendance was poor, I cratered. It spilled out all that I held inside in that meeting. Many thought I was quitting the ministry. That thought never crossed my mind. The thought to quit the meetings dominated me. 

It was definitely a spiritual assault. The people of God rallied around me in intercession. Brenda told me she left for work on Tuesday with me in the dumps. She came home that afternoon and said I had done a complete 180 turn around. I did not do that. God did that. 

God reminded me that I did not have the carry the pressure of the revival. It is true that He put that burden in me ten months ago. I have carried that burden like a woman carries a child in the womb. She travails in labor to give birth to her precious baby. Likewise, I have travailed in prayer to give birth to revival. God brings revival. Instead of straining, pushing, and striving to attain it, God allowed me to surrender. To trust Him. To wait on Him. To focus on each day and not the whole. 

When I surrendered, something happened. My bumps went away. That was seven days ago. I have not had another since. Coincidence? Or were those bumps stress manifesting in my body? Whatever the answer, they are gone and have not returned. Praise God. 

The tender work of God among us keeps getting gooder and gooder. I do not want to mispresent anything for those who are not able to attend in person. The attendance has been small every service with the exceptions of Sunday mornings. Instead of focusing on all those who do not attend, my focus turned to those who do attend. To pray for God to bring each of us into a fresh encounter with Him. To watch Him spark the fire of revival in hearts and then trust for Him to let is spread. It is spreading. The small band showing up are fanning the flame to get it going and trusting God for revival fire to ignite.  Slowly. Smoldering waiting for the wind of God to blow the embers into flame. Once the flame ignites, watch out. God will spread His move like a prairie fire. It will only get gooder and gooder. 

Only Believe

 Last night I witnessed a beautiful move of God. It started early in the service when Sherman asked people if they had any testimonies of praise. One lady commented that a biopsy returned on her daughter with no cancer. People erupted into applause. Another lady testified about her fifth-grade daughter talking to her best friend about how to get saved. That little girl got saved at VBS this week. Her family does not understand salvation or baptism. We trust God to open their eyes and that the whole family will be saved and follow in baptism together. That young evangelist daughter commented to her mother, "I don't know why people think talking about Jesus is so hard. You just talk to your best friend about Him." Very well said. Brenda then testified about praying for five young men to get saved. One of those men rooms with two of our sons in college. He is not saved. Recently, he started asking our son Tanner some spiritual questions. Tanner commented to him, "Read the Bible for yourself and make up your own mind." His roommate told Tanner he did not have a Bible. Two days later a Bible showed up in the mail Brenda bought him for graduation. Another testified about God being faithful in the good times and the bad times. 

Those testimonies set the tone for the rest of the service. Songs of praise lit up the room. God inhabited the praises of His people. I felt God helping me preach last night. I also felt His word fell on fertile ground in the hearts of the people. In the passage, a man facing an impossible situation heard Jesus say, "Do not be afraid but only believe." 

During the invitation, one couple confessed some spiritual needs going on in their family. Immediately people rallied around them to pray. The same thing happened all over the room. Multiple little prayer meetings took place. We lost track of time. Time did not matter as people were comforted by God, His word, and praying people. The congregation would finish praying for one person and then move onto another. Sometimes it was only one person praying with someone. Sometimes it was a group of people gathered in intercession. 

There were tears in the eyes of the hurting. I heard more than one weeping. I saw one dabbing tears from her cheeks. Groans of agreement ascended by the intercessors. Desperate people needed God's powerful help. One little spoken word from Jesus changes everything. When things look hopeless, impossible, like it is over, one spoken word from Jesus can bring hope to the most hopeless situation. Just ask Jairus in Mark 5:35-41. 

In my opinion, last night was by far the best night of Camp Meeting. Like a swell in the ocean slowly building as it rolls toward the beach, so it feels that God has been slowly building His move among us for the past nine days. The swells in the ocean eventually turn into waves cresting before crashing onto the beach. God is doing something. I sense the momentum building. Slowly, methodically, systematically, and persistently God has worked among us. I am not convinced He is done as I seek Him for a fresh word for tonight's meeting. 

After the service, the Atens came to eat supper at our house. A comment was made that peaked my attention. All along we promoted these meetings going through tonight. The Atens thought we were going through Friday night. They asked me about it and I replied, "I don't know. I am willing to go as long as God wants us to go. We will make that decision tonight." I know what God put in my heart ten months ago about these meetings. Something I have told only a few trusted people. We have not experienced those things yet. God does not have to send revival just because we scheduled some meetings. He can do whatever He wants. I have a suspicion that He wants to do so much more. So now, it is time for us to only believe Him for all He intends. 

I sense a hunger increasing in those who attend. We have testimonies that the presence of God is felt at home by those watching online. Please pray for tonight. We do not want grieve God by ending the meetings too soon. Nor do we want to extend them past what He is blessing. Pray for God to make it clear what we are supposed to do. ONLY BELIEVE. 

Stretch It Out

 In Mark 3:1-11 there is a story about a man who showed up at the synagogue with a withered hand. His hand was stiffened and wasted away. This was not going to be another Sabbath gathering. Not another routine religious ritual. Jesus showed up. Things tend to happen when Jesus enters the house of God. 

Pharisees were also present scrutinizing everything that Jesus did. They wanted to see if Jesus would heal someone on the Sabbath so that they could accuse Him of breaking the Sabbath law. They were the religious rule keepers. The ones who totally missed the miracle about to take place in favor of making sure every rule of the law was followed completely. They devoted themselves to legalism. Jesus spoke some of His harshest words in the gospels to this group of hypocrites. They were oblivious to the fact that the author of that law was in their midst. They missed the major presence of the Messiah for focusing on the minor details. 

Jesus called the man with the withered hand to come forward. He then told him to stretch out that hand. I am betting that man did not want to draw attention to that hand. I am betting he preferred to hide it. To keep it concealed so people would not stare. We do the same things. Women use make up to cover up flaws. People wear hats to cover up thinning hair. We also are good at concealing sin. Things inside that nobody but God can see. We hide a weakened and bruised faith. We keep secret all kinds of things from other people. The broken places in our lives. 

Jesus says, "Stretch it out." Bring it out of the shadows of secrecy into the open. That is very hard to do when it comes to something like a withered hand. Even a withered relationship with God. Secret burdens we carry. Stretch it out. In other words, give it to Jesus. You do not have to. You have a choice to keep that withered part of your life hidden. You can hold it close in secrecy. 

Notice that the healing did not occur until the man decided to stretch his hand out to Jesus. Offer Him your pain. Surrender your secret sins. Relinquish your rotten attitude. Stretch out your severely wounded heart. Once the man did that, Jesus restored his hand. He healed it. Cured it. Repaired and renewed it. We need that kind of work of Jesus still today. 

Two things happened afterward. The Pharisees went outside and consulted how they mighty kill Jesus. You can read that in the scripture. The second thing we have to imagine. I think another group gathered outside to talk about the miracle they witnessed. You know the healed man certainly showed his newly restored hand. I bet he also told people all the way home. This is the part of that story that got me last night when I delivered this message. 

Immediately following this miracle Jesus withdrew to the sea. People followed Him. A lot of people. Great crowds. Multitudes from Galilee, Judea, Jerusalem, Idumea, beyond the Jordan, and the around Tyre and Sidon. Do the math. That is people from seven different places. How? There were no television outlets to broadcast what Jesus did. They had no capability of live streaming their services. No newspapers. No social media. No phones. How did people know where Jesus was and why were they flocking to Him? One little word. They HEARD what He was doing. Good old-fashioned word of mouth. People testified about the power of Jesus at work and desperate needy people flocked to Him from all over. 

When Jesus moves, and people testify about it, crowds still flock to Him. People will drive from miles away to crowd around places they hear that Jesus is working. 

Sherman sat down at the piano again last night during the invitation and sang. He sang two songs. All in All and Holy Spirit Rain Down. The sweet presence of God was there. A holy hush fell over the congregation. Some prayed at their seats. Two ladies and one of their husbands came forward to the altar. They knelt. It was a beautiful scene of a doting husband praying for his wife and the two ladies praying, one ministering to the other. 

I sat on the front pew lost in both worship and prayer. Several times I felt impressed to go pray for a man in attendance that night. He is a strong stoic man I have come to know and love deeply. I knew he would not want attention drawn to him so I resisted. God persisted though. When I wheeled around, I saw he had his head buried in his hands pouring out his soul to God. I quietly walked up behind him gently placed my hands on his shoulders. Leaning toward his left ear I asked God to help him. I asked God to intervene. I thought I heard this strong former serviceman break down and cry. 

I saw others around the room in their own private prayers. God was there. Pouring out ministry like rain. Meeting people in their crisis. Restoring withered places. All over the room people stretched out the broken withered things in their lives. Jesus was there and the Holy Spirit. Those conversant in the Holy Spirit, I am talking about those sensitive to the Spirit of God, can sense Him moving in our midst.  

When I returned to the front pew, I felt a deep impression about the sermon for tonight. That is rare. Most days prayer, seeking, and waiting on God to reveal His word for each service during these meetings one service at a time has been the pattern. It seemed clear. It is a message I have preached at Spring Creek before I ever became pastor in a revival meeting back in 2016 or 2017. 

We concluded the service with singing Holy Spirit Rain Down again. That song has become an anthem for us with the Atens. Soaking in the Spirit falling on us soothes my soul. Attendance has been sporadic, but God has been there. He is working. People are stretching out things to be restored. I hope people are testifying. I trust God will do the drawing. I long to do it all again tonight. Service starts at 7:00 pm. If you are looking for a fresh encounter, join us at Spring Creek tonight on 100 Spring Creek Rd. 

Yearn Til It Hurts

 Have you ever yearned for something so badly that it hurt? Your desire throbbed and ached deep inside you. You felt the weight of that longing much deeper than just in your mind. It pulsated through you night and day. It consumed you. Propelled you to keep asking and believing God for it. 

That sums up what God has been doing in me since the day I returned to Spring Creek as pastor. Many know that I served this church as youth minister from 1991-1993. God did a marvelous work in that student ministry. We grew from 6 students to 45. Most of those new students were gloriously saved and added to the church through baptism. I didn't know anything back then, but God was pleased to pour His Spirit out on us. Those students became a powerful force in their school. It has been an honor to come back to this church as pastor. 

From the first week I sat in the office close to three years ago, God stirred me with a yearning for His reviving work. I have often been awakened between 2:00-4:00 am to cry out for His fresh work among us. He put dreams in my heart in the night watches about what He intended to do. He stirred a consuming vision in me I have been sprinting toward since. As I write this, I feel we are on the verge of God breaking through. 

Like a wrecking ball that slams against a wall repeatedly. At first, it may not appear anything is happening. When the ball slams against the wall, the tiny cracks weakening the structure may not be visible to the eye. The persistent ramming of that ball against the wall continues to compromise the stability. With repeated hits, the wall eventually falls into a heap of rubble. 

God through His Spirit is slamming against us night after night. The cracks in our stubborn pride may not be visible to the naked eye. Night after night God jackhammers His word into us. Each night softening the soil. Sowing seeds of truth. Until it takes root, and we yearn for more of Him. More than we yearn for anything else. 

A yearning that supersedes sleep. A longing far greater than hunger pangs at dinner time. An intense craving that propels us to rearrange priorities, to forsake other things for the purpose of seeking Him, and to be inconvenienced with worship attendance night after night. It is a yearning that only God can put in the heart of people. 

To live with this burden night and day, week after week, month after month, and year after year takes a toll. My wife commented one time that I have grown much more serious and am not as much fun. When God grips your heart with a burden that drives you continually, you grow serious. You live with a broken heart. You feel the sorrow God feels for a nation unraveling. You weep tears of intercession. You are angered by the systematic satanic shakedown of our society. 

The yearning for God to sweep across the land in spiritual awakening consumes me. It is a costly yearning. It hurts each time we gather and wrecking ball slams against us again, but the breakthrough does not happen. I fall into bed exhausted. I often sit at my desk seeking God for the next revival message unable to concentrate. Prayers are soulish cries for God to have His way. Night after night I preach what He gives yearning for the walls to crumble. Many nights I leave sorrowed that it did not happen. Each morning I muster the courage to start the whole process again. That is the depth of my yearning. May it move God to breakthrough at long last. 

Holy Spirit Rain Down

 Last night was all about tracing the Holy Spirit from Pentecost to the 17th chapter of Acts. God started a revolution through the once cowardly disciples. Once they were filled with the Holy Spirit, they were emboldened and given a passion for proclaiming the name of Jesus in a hostile culture. 

The hostile culture did not always receive them favorably. They were threatened to quit teaching and preaching. They were beaten. Imprisoned. Some even killed to silence the movement. It had the opposite effect. None of it deterred them. They stayed true to the mission. Through Holy Ghost empowering they went from about 120 to several thousands in new converts. They had no buildings to meet in. They did not have any programs other than prayer, the Old Testament, and evangelism. All of that was more than enough to start a world-wide movement that is still going strong today. 

When the invitation was extended, Sherman Aten sat down at the piano and sang a song I have not heard in years. "Holy Spirit rain down." I sat on the front pew singing that song as a prayer with a longing heart. With all the yearning in my soul. We also sang "Spirt of the living God fall fresh on me." These were much more than songs of praise. They were desperate cries from a church longing for more. Wanting to be used more. 

Acts 17:6 (NASB)
⁶  When they did not find them, they began dragging Jason and some brethren before the city authorities, shouting, "These men who have upset the world have come here also;

Let that verse sink in. These few disciples who fled from Jesus when he was arrested, upset the world. Other translations use the phrase, "They turned the world upside down." They impacted the world. They began a gospel revolution that grew into a worldwide movement still going strong. They had no money. No facilities to meet in. No church organization. Certainly, no denominational leadership to push their agenda. They had no programs to help them in their mission. No Sunday School classes. No cutting edge technology. Nothing but the power of God through the Holy Spirit and a relentless zeal to fulfill Acts 1:8. 

Last night, all of that filled my heart and mind as we sang for the Holy Spirit to rain down among us. He is stirring in our midst. The atmosphere is thick with His presence during the invitations. The congregation often is unable to sing due to praying. Conviction is high. Repentance often falls from the lips of those in attendance. At times, we just sit in silence before our God. I am not uncomfortable in the silence. 

I cannot fully explain why God holds back the fullness of His Spirit among us. He is definitely working. The Spirit is swirling overhead. Like when the wind picks up right before a storm comes. Just like last week when we received a soaking rain while two of our deacons were out mowing. They both got drenched. In the same way, I cry out for God to come drench us in the rain of His Spirit. To soak us to the bones. To saturate our souls with revival fire. 

I received a text yesterday from someone who watched the service online. He commented, "Do not despise the small beginnings for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin..." It may be a small beginning now, but I am believing for so much more.

The meetings continue nightly at 7:00 pm. We will continue until God has done all He intends to do. 

Who Are You?

 Acts 19:15 And the evil spirit answered and said to them, "I recognize Jesus, and I know Paul, but who are you?"

That demon was aware of Jesus. It was also acquainted with Paul. Both did major war against the forces of darkness. Jesus had, and still has, power and authority over the forces of darkness. Paul grew in spiritual power and authority through Jesus. Both were known in hell. Both caused the devil a major headache. Both saw people delivered from demon possession. They had quite an impact. They also made an impression on demonic forces. 

The name of Jesus is powerful More powerful than anything Satan can do. Saints who grow closer to Jesus and more fervent in prayer can tap into that power to stand firm and oppose the wicked schemes of Satan. 

That demon asked who the seven sons of sceva were who came to do an exorcism. They came in the name of Jesus whom Paul preached. They had no personal relationship with Jesus. No faith. No power or authority to combat the forces of darkness. They had second hand knowledge. The demon asked, "Who are you?"

I wonder if we or our churches are known in hell like Jesus and Paul were to the demon. Do we stand so firm against the sinister schemes of the devil that we through Jesus throw a monkey wrench into his plans. Do we ever thwart his agenda with our prayers and evangelism. Is he ever exasperated because we, in Jesus name, foil another deceitful plan to steal, kill, and destroy. 

Do our churches ever drop atom bomb prayers on our communities that defeats our enemy. No matter the attendance, the size of the buildings, or what cutting edge technologies we may have, do our congregations have any major impact on opposing the forces of darkness? Do we even engage in the battle?

Satan is a formidable foe. He is well equipped, shrewd, battle hardened and fights savagely. He is also relentless. Even if he suffers a few defeats, he will never give up. He is on the job 24 hours a day and 365 days a year. He does not take days off. He is never on vacation. Like I said he is relentless. He is to someone to trifle with. 

The sons of sceva found out the hard way. They were beat down and overpowered. They were seen running from the house of the demon possessed naked and wounded. They fled in shameful defeat and the story spread all over town.

Jesus is not looking for more cowards who run in fear. He is looking for courageous warriors called to battle in prayer, evangelism, and revival. If we could see into the spiritual realm, we would be shocked at all the demonic activity all around us. The occult is gaining greater ground in our society. Look at all the sitcoms about witches. Dig into all the Hollywood and political elite who have sold their souls to Satan. Question what possesses all the crazed shooters to go into schools, churches, and supermarkets to murder people? I think there is more demon activity in our world than we can possibly imagine. 

Will we cower in fear? Will we keep retreating giving up ground that will take a move of God to reclaim. Not me. Sign me up for the battle. Let my name be put on a hit list in hell. May my picture be put on a most wanted poster in the halls of hell. I want to make him mad, frustrate him, resist him, oppose him, see him defeated daily through the mighty and powerful name of Jesus. Satan has no power against Jesus and His name. He is a defeated foe. A big bully intimidating and harming people. 

The demon asked, "Who are you?" I hope our answer will be: WE ARE CHILDREN OF THE MOST HIGH GOD, REDEEMED, DECLARED RIGHTEOUS, SAVED, SANCTIFIED, BORN AGAIN, NEW CREATIONS, JOINT HEIRS WITH CHRIST, DISCIPLES, JESUS FOLLOWERS, VALIANT WARRIORS, BLOOD BOUGHT, NAMES WRITTEN IN THE LAMB'S BOOK OF LIFE, HOLY SPIRIT EMPOWERED, RAPTURE READY, DRESSED IN THE ARMOR OF GOD, EQUIPPED, GIFTED, RESOLVED, FOR SUCH A TIME AS THIS. May we never forget our position in Jesus and our power through Him and Satan's ultimate defeat in the end. Hallelujah to the Lamb who has the name above all names. At the name of Jesus every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord to the glory of God. Remember that the next time a demon talks back to you asking, "Who are you?" Remind him in no uncertain terms WHO you are and WHOSE you are!

He Will Not Fail Me

 During the invitation last night we sang a song with the lyrics, "You have not failed me yet. You will not fail me now." I really do not remember the rest of the words. I sat there taking in those words as if God was speaking them directly to me. Like there was no-one else in the room. The more I listened to His voice through that song, the more excited I grew about what God is doing to do in this church. Not an emotional exuberance. A triumphant joy that defies explanation. One that originated in a fresh encounter with Jehovah. 

He is on the move. I feel it deep in my spirit. I feel something stirring down in my bones. This gnawing reality that God is taking us to places we have never been before. Do I trust what my eyes see? Do I go with what the Spirit in my soul impresses on me? The Spirit of God is brooding over this place. You cannot see it. You may not even feel it. If you walk in tune with God you can sense it. The weight of His presence has been felt during invitations as the people sit quietly before Him in prayer, reflecting on hard hitting Bible truth. Complete silence falls over the congregation. There is not rustling. A holy hush falls over all of us. 

We are often uncomfortable with the silence. Somebody feels like they have to jump up and say or sing something to fill the dead space. It is in these still quiet moments when God does some of His deepest work. Like a mechanic tweaking an engine, a carpenter repairing a building, a doctor bandaging a wound, and a drill instructor preparing troops for battle, God is doing all those things in us. Preparing us for greater levels of ministry effectiveness. 

The plans for these Camp Meetings started nearly three years ago in the prayer room with an encounter with God. I felt deeply impressed on that day God intended to send real revival to Spring Creek. Over the last 34 months with deep travailing prayer, I have gone through seasons of confidence, doubt, conviction, repentance, renewal, and resolve to believe God for that revival. Hundreds of hours of intercessions have been poured into this. Months of preparation work aligned our hearts with God's heart. There has been repentance. Spiritual warfare has been the worst I have encountered in thirty years of pastoral ministry. Not just in my family. Experienced by people all over the church. There have also been distractions and disappointments along the way. Yet here we are. Meeting, believing, and expecting the breakthrough at any time now. 

Through it all, God has not failed me yet and He will not fail me now! His will and purpose will be accomplished. Spring Creek will be revived. It will spread to other churches. Lost souls will be saved. Greater things are to be done in this city. That is what I believe. 

Grinning From Ear to Ear

 Something definitely shifted last night in our meeting. An intensity. A congregation wide hunger. A clarion call for more of God. God drew His people into a deeper desire for more. More than just meeting. More God encounters. Many were moved during the invitation. Heads bowed all over the room deep in prayer. I sat on the front pew feeling like God was not done. Like someone there needed to trust Jesus for salvation. 

I got up and asked if anyone had. Nobody responded. Counselors were in the prayer room praying and waiting. The service ended. A dad came forward with his little boy weaving his way through the people in the aisle. The father told me his son had been asking questions about being saved and wanted him to talk to me. The three of us went into the prayer room. While other counselors interceded, I talked with the lad asking him if he understood sin. He did indeed. I explained why people need to be saved and what Jesus does for us during salvation. The little boy seemed eager believe on Jesus. I asked the father if he wanted the privilege of leading his son to Jesus. Of course he did. 

After that little boy asked Jesus to save him, he looked up grinning from ear to ear and hugged his dad. What a beautiful moving scene. The intercessors never even knew what had just happened. I told the youngster he had an important job to do. To go tell others what he had just done. He has siblings and went straight out to tell them. 

When we walked out of the prayer room, I could not contain the joy and let out a shout of triumph so loud some people jumped. I announced that someone had been saved and rejoicing erupted throughout the sanctuary. Some high-fived before leaving. 

One of the newly saved siblings came to me a littler later saying, "I want to pray with you about becoming Christian." I took him into my office and we talked for a moment. He also understood sin, but I felt like he might just be trying to copy his brother. I told him he needed to talk to his father when he got home. He is not far from salvation if he did not get saved last night. HALLELUJAH!

Seeing that little boy grinning from ear to ear with new found joy after trusting Jesus will stay with me for a long time. I cannot think of any other experience that excites me more than seeing people get saved. Whether they are five, fifty-five, or eighty-five does not matter. I pray, "Do it again Lord. Do it again. In Jesus name amen." It will be me grinning from ear to ear when He does it again.