Spruce Up! It’s Spring!

What beautiful spring weather we’ve been having. Throughout the region, the Bradford pear trees are all abloom. The forsythia is showing its vibrant yellow. The redbud trees are starting to come out. And I can’t wait to see the azaleas and the dogwoods. From twenty years ago, I can still vividly remember that Danville is absolutely one of the most beautiful places on earth in the springtime.

Spring is an exciting time of year to me. Not only because of the bright colors. Not only because winter is coming to a close. But there’s just something about the springtime. You can feel it in the air. Spring is the season of hope and optimism.

Baseball, my favorite sport, starts in the spring. The first of April, all the major league teams begin a grueling 6-month, 162-game schedule. In the heat of summer, many teams will fade and falter. Some will do poorly from the very outset. But in the springtime, before the season begins, every team, no matter how bad their last season, has renewed hope. They all start out fresh with a clean slate. “Maybe this year will be our year”, they say. Truly, spring is the season of redemption, the season of anticipation, the season for a whole new beginning.

That’s because truly spring is the season of resurrection and new life. It’s fitting that during this time of year when everything in nature is blooming and budding, it’s also the time of year when the resurrected Lord Jesus emerged victorious from His dark grave. The visual reminders of new life in God’s creation powerfully remind us of the resurrection power of Christ that is available to all of us and the new life we personally can experience through Him.

I suppose all of these are reasons why I love spring. (You’ll have to bear with me for getting so excited about spring. You’ve got to remember that, coming back north from Florida, I haven’t seen a real spring in 12 years. So I’m seeing it all with fresh and more appreciative eyes.)

As I said, I clearly remember how beautiful Danville is in the spring of the year. But another thing I remember from twenty years ago is a slogan the city of Danville had to encourage people to clean up their yards and do other necessary spring cleaning. “Spruce Up! It’s Spring!” appeared on banners and was emblazoned on garbage trucks all over town. And for a period of time, you could take just about anything to the curb and the city would gladly haul it off for you.

I thought of that old slogan again this past week. With the weather warming up, and company coming to visit us, we recently tried to do some basic cleanup work in our yard. As you know, our home is located in Windsor Heights, right off of Highway 58. A steep embankment surrounds our back yard. I climbed up the wooded embankment, with garbage bag in hand, to collect debris that had found its way down from the roadside.

You know, it’s quite interesting what people will throw out of their cars. In my recent excursion I found some discarded Big Mac wrappers, some brown beer bottles, a vodka bottle, a couple of lottery tickets, and a few cigarette packs, among other things. Just as I was about to stereotype these litterbugs, the very last thing I picked up, interestingly, was a scripture memory card. The verse was Isaiah 61:1. (I can’t believe someone threw a scripture memory card out of their passing car. Perhaps it blew off the garbage truck.)

When it came to cleaning up our actual yard itself, however, I had to call in professional help. The lawn was just filled with those annoying little sweet gum balls. Tons of them. Some people refer to those prickly little spheres as “land mines” for bare feet. Ouch! Anyway, my leaf blower/vac and my push mower with bag attachment just won’t pick them up that well. So I called Bobby Jones, who has more professional equipment than I do. It was still hard to get them all, but he got a lot of them. And now the yard looks great. (At least until those last remaining sweet gum balls fall off the trees.)

Anyway, there are some spiritual implications to all of this. Along with the beauty of spring comes the yard work of spring. I mean, we love our trees. But the reality is that with trees come leaves, as well as those dreaded sweet gum balls. Such is life.

There is a lot of beauty in life. But life also involves some adversity. That’s part of human existence. They key is, don’t let the sweet gum balls of life rob you of the joy of observing and appreciating life's blooming trees and flowering plants. Learn to praise God in all circumstances and always look for His Hand in every situation. Cultivate an awareness of God’s presence, and a greater sense of His inner peace and joy. Meditate on His Truth. Be saturated with His Word. That’s what helps us to endure the challenges of life.

Furthermore, we have to acknowledge that along the roadway of life, no matter how hard we may try to avoid it, we all can get hit with a lot of litter. And if we don’t deal with it, it lingers and becomes part of us. And litter robs us of the beauty that could be ours. The lawn of our life becomes unattractive to God and unappealing to others. We lose our usefulness and effectiveness. Thus, we’ve regularly got to gather up the garbage and get it out of our yard. This is what prayer and confession are all about. This is what cleanses us and enables us to stay fresh, green, and growing as children of God.

Over the next few days, as you’re sprucing things up in your yard, remember that this also is what God wants to happen in you spiritually on a regular basis. After all, Jesus Himself told us that He was the True Vine and we are His branches, vitally connected to Him as our life source. And God the Father is the Divine Gardner who comes and prunes away our dead and unproductive parts. And He even trims our fruitful parts that they might flourish and bear even more fruit for Him.

This spring, remember to let the Gardener have His way with you. Get rid of the sweet gum balls. Gather up the roadside litter. Stop and smell the roses. Put down some roots. And bloom where you're planted.

Pastor Danny

To Russia With Love

The opening night of the Pittsylvania Baptist Association’s World Mission Conference (hosted by Mount Hermon Baptist Church) featured guest speakers John & Jane Doe (not their real names, obviously). The Does are career International Mission Board missionaries serving in Central and Eastern Europe. We were all inspired as they shared about their mission experiences in Russia, particularly in the seemingly mysterious region of Siberia. Their stories brought back a lot of memories for me. I had visited Russia on a mission trip back in 1994, just three years after the collapse and disintegration of the old Soviet Union. Those were the very early days of missionary work in that long-time Communist country. At dinner on Saturday night, the Does and I talked about some of the people that we both knew in Russia, and I shared with them a few of my memories from that trip of thirteen years ago. John Doe said, “I’m sure you were never the same after your visit to Russia.” He’s right. I never was.

One of my strongest memories of that trip was when our plane finally touched down at the Moscow airport. It was late at night. As I stepped off the plane and descended onto the tarmac, I paused, took a deep breath, and slowly looked around, trying to take it all in. It was a surreal moment. I could not believe I was in the former Soviet Union, our nation’s nemesis throughout the decades-long Cold War. As we made our way off the plane and into the terminal to retrieve our checked baggage, I was walking through the airport when it suddenly dawned on me that I was carrying my Bible in my hand, out in plain view for all to see. I did not even realize that I was holding it. Suddenly I thought, “Wow! Here I am freely carrying a copy of the Word of God in the capital of this formerly-avowed atheistic empire. Not too long ago this would have been absolutely unheard of."

Another powerful moment for me was when I stepped onto Red Square in Moscow. There before my eyes, I could see the familiar onion-shaped domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral…the imposing walls of the Kremlin…the edifice containing the Tomb of Lenin…and the tall review stand where generations of Soviet leaders—Stalin, Khrushchev, Brezhnev, Gorbachev, and others—had once stood to observe the vast, intimidating parades of troops, tanks, and missiles, a very public flexing of the nation’s military muscles. And now here I was, standing in the midst of it all. (By the way, later on, I actually got to enter the Kremlin itself! Not even James Bond or Forrest Gump ever did that!)

As I recall quite vividly, there was an incredible openness and spiritual hunger among the Russian people at that time. Evangelical Christianity was so new to them. And the freedom to openly share the Gospel was new to the Russian Christians themselves.

I remember standing on a sidewalk in front of a store in the city of Ryazan, freely passing out Russian language Gospel tracts on the street. Among the few Russian words I knew (and the only ones I still remember) were the words “Bess Plotna!,” meaning “It’s free!”—a necessary response to inquisitive Russians who thought you were trying to sell them something. The reason I remember “Bess Plotna” so well is because (a) I always thought it sounded like a woman’s name and (b) the Russian people always laughed at the strange way I pronounced it with my Kentucky accent. (And it’s extremely hard to get the stoic and somber Russian people to laugh...especially in public. So I know that my feeble efforts at Russian must have been flat out awful.)

I remember our team doing street preaching and seeing people saved. I can still see the faces of some of those who came to Christ in those public settings. I can remember witnessing to patients in their hospital rooms and to schoolchildren in their classrooms, leading them through the sinner’s prayer. (Things you can’t get by with in America today!) I also can remember leading a young couple to Christ as they sat on a bench in a city park, speaking to them through an interpreter, and using the colored beads on my Gospel wristband to illustrate to them God’s plan of salvation.

I can still see the faces and remember the names of Russian Christians that I met and knew for only a couple of weeks. But I look forward to seeing them all again someday in Heaven. Most notably, I remember their warm hospitality. I remember staying in the home of a Russian family, sleeping on a tiny crowded bed that I awkwardly shared with my interpreter Sasha. And eating lots of borscht (a translucent-red beet-based Russian soup), cooked cabbage, hard dry bread, strong cheese, and other delicacies prepared by our Russian hosts. (Yum!) I also remember the traditional older Russian ladies, who wore babushkas (scarves) on their heads, never shaved their legs, and generally looked a lot like the late Mrs. Khrushchev (if you’ve ever seen any old news photos of her from the late 1950s & early 60s.) (HINT: She was no Marilyn Monroe.)

One thing I poignantly remember is a Russian Christian lady who played the piano for us one day after dinner. She played several traditional Russian and Ukrainian tunes. Noting the haunting melodies typical of so many of the songs, I asked “Why are so many your songs written in a minor key?” To which she replied, “Because the history of our people is so sad.”

The Russian people have indeed had a tragic history. A history filled with oppression, corruption, tyranny, and darkness. But in recent years, the light of Christ has made significant inroads there. And those Russians that have found the True and Living Way have a joyous and beautiful spirit that transcends their circumstances and sets them apart from their fellow countryman.

Why not pause right now and breathe a prayer for the people of Russia? Pray for strength for the Christians. Pray for salvation for the lost. And pray for John & Jane Doe and other missionaries like them who lovingly labor among the Russian people.

Pastor Danny

Stuck in the Mud

One evening, a couple of weeks ago, I went to a local funeral home to pay my respects to the grieving family of a deceased church member. When I pulled my car into the funeral home parking lot, a large crowd had already gathered there for the receiving hours. As I turned into the only vacant parking space I could find, my headlight beams flashed across the dirt field adjacent to the funeral home, coming to rest on a car positioned perpendicular to mine. The car was just sitting there in the field motionless, with an older woman at the wheel.

Apparently, her intended destination had been the funeral home parking lot, but somehow she had taken a wrong turn off the main road and wound up in this vacant lot. As she attempted to circle around and get back out on the highway, she got her tires stuck in a wet mud hole. Whenever she pushed down on the accelerator, her tires would just spin ‘round and ‘round, as her car became increasingly entrenched in the muck and mire.

As I got out of my car and stepped forward for a closer look, I heard the woman’s desperate cry, “Can you help me?” For a split second, I thought about the fact that here I was on my way into the funeral home, wearing a suit and tie and dress shoes. Once inside, not only would I be ministering to the grieving family, but I also would see (and be seen) by many people from the community. “If I go down into this field to help this lady, then I’m going to wind up a muddy mess,” I thought. “Surely, there’s someone else that could help her.”

Just about the time that my rationalization tried to set in, another line of thinking invaded my thoughts. “No, this is the ministry opportunity that the Lord has put before you tonight. How can you dare go into that funeral home presuming to minister to someone else, when you’re not even willing to stop and minister to the immediate need that’s right in front of you? After all, there are dozens of people presently ministering to that family inside, but you’re the only one out here with this lady who’s stuck in the mud. Furthermore, if it was your wife or your mother stuck in the mud, wouldn’t you appreciate it if some stranger stopped to help them, rather than just standing there trying to find reasons why he shouldn’t?”

So, yielding to my conscience, I made my descent down into the muddy field. Stepping lightly, so as to avoid getting muddy—ha, ha—I very quickly realized that my efforts to stay clean were nothing more than a futile effort at self-deception. As I took my place behind the immobilized vehicle in order to give it a shove, I immediately learned that my feet could not get any traction unless I stepped down into the actual trench carved out by the car’s tires. When I did so, I found myself standing in ankle deep mud. (This was a sensation I had not known in almost twelve years. In Florida, the soil is sandy and water evaporates quickly. So, it’s been a while since I’ve had to contend with real mud.) Once my shoes were fully baptized by immersion, however, I knew there was no turning back.

First I tried to rock the car back and forth as the driver pushed the accelerator. But the car wouldn’t budge, although several flying flecks of earth found their way to my face, my mouth, and even in my hair.

Then, I found a flat stone that I placed under one of the tires in order to help gain some traction. But that didn’t work either. Then, the lady told me she had a cardboard box in her trunk. I got it out and took it apart, flattening it in order to lay it under the tire. Again, this didn’t work. The tire just chewed up the cardboard and kept getting deeper and deeper in the mud.

Finally, I had to admit that I was failing in my singular efforts to rescue this poor lady. Reluctantly, I made my way over to the funeral home, where everyone else was still nice and clean. When I appeared out of the darkness, I must have been quite a sight to behold, especially from the ankles down. I told a couple of funeral home employees about the situation and asked if they could help. Without hesitation, they came to my aid, even though—like me—they were all dressed up and certainly hadn’t planned on an activity like this. As the three of us made our way down into the muddy field, I took my familiar place in the deep trench once again. Somehow the other two guys—much smarter than me—managed to find less muddy spots on which to stand. The three of us shoved and shoved and, finally, the car began to budge. Then, all of a sudden, it sprang forth…like a caged lion set free! Like a prisoner breaking out of Alcatraz! Like Superman leaping from a tall building! Like a newborn babe coming forth from the womb! Like Lazarus miraculously coming forth from the tomb! (OK, enough metaphors already!)

Momentarily, the lady hesitated, wanting to stop the car and thank the three musketeers who rescued her. But, instantaneously, we all three yelled in unison, “Keep going! Keep going!” (We didn’t want to have to do a repeat performance.) As the lady made her way out onto the hard-surface highway, the three of us made our way up out of the black lagoon. Less muddy than me, my two compatriots went on back inside the funeral home, returning to their jobs, while I lingered in the parking lot a bit longer.

After several minutes of walking around, trying to knock flecks of dried mud off of my clothes and out of my hair, and trying to get the chunks of caked mud off my shoes, I finally gave up. (Fortunately, the mud was the same color as my hair color. So the muddy flecks on my head looked natural.) But the mud was simply not going to come off those shoes. (I wound up throwing them away later.) So I went on into the funeral home, found the restroom, washed my hands, and proceeded to do my pastoral thing, visiting and conversing with others, muddy shoes and all. I’m sure some folks were probably whispering, “Isn’t that the new pastor at Mount Hermon?”… “Mmm, not a very neat dresser, is he?” … “Poor guy, I wonder where he’s from?”… “I heard he’s from the hills of Kentucky”… “It figures.”

Anyway, what lessons did I learn from my recent escapade in the mud?

First of all, I was graphically reminded of the fact that if you really want to help people in this life, oftentimes you’ve got to get your hands (or, in my case, feet) dirty. We can’t always do ministry from a safe distance. Ministering to others means going to where the people are, and getting down in the trenches with them. That’s exactly what Jesus did when He came to Bethlehem’s manager. It’s also what He did when He went to Calvary’s Cross. All that Jesus went through—the humiliation, the pain, the suffering, the sacrifice—reminds us that ministry doesn’t always come in neat, tidy and safe little packages. Sometimes it comes in the most inconvenient forms and at the most inconvenient times. But, we have to remember that ministry is not about us, it’s about other people. It’s not about our convenience, it’s about their needs.

Secondly, my mud bath incident also reminded me that when we set out to do a task, we often need others to help us. It’s humbling to ask for the assistance of others, isn’t it? Sometimes, we’d rather just do it ourselves. But when we do that, we often rob others—and ourselves—of a great blessing. Remember, we weren’t meant to serve God in isolation. Neither were we intended to carry the weight of the whole world solely on our own two shoulders. Don’t forget that God is most delighted when His people come together, shoulder to shoulder, working for the common good, devoted to a common cause, headed in the direction of a common goal.

Have you been guilty of trying to do it all yourself? Why is that? Are you seeking all the glory for yourself? Do you think no one else can do it as well as you can? Once again, remember, it’s not about you. It’s about what God wants to do in the lives of everyone. And, sometimes, in order to help others, you need others to come alongside you to help you. That’s the way God planned it. Truly, no man is an island to himself. We’re all in this thing together.

Think about that this week. And if you happen to come across some poor soul that’s stuck in the mud, don't be afraid to get your feet dirty. And don’t be shy about asking others to get down in the trenches with you and help you push.

Pastor Danny

Amazing Grace—More than a Hymn

Sandy and I drove down to Greensboro the other day to see the newly-released motion picture, Amazing Grace. It hasn’t made it to Danville yet, but I certainly hope it does soon, because it’s an excellent film that I think you’ll want to see.

Amazing Grace focuses on the life of William Wilberforce, a devout Christian who served in the British Parliament during the late 18th and early 19th Centuries. For years—against long odds and seemingly insurmountable political opposition—Wilberforce led the fight to abolish the slave trade in the British Isles. Repeatedly, year after year, he introduced anti-slavery legislation in the House of Commons only to see it go down in defeat time and again. Eventually, however, the tide turned, and Wilberforce and the abolitionist forces finally prevailed in 1807.

The release of this new movie was actually set to coincide with the 200th anniversary of Parliament’s passage of the landmark legislation that began the eradication of slavery in England. It would be several more years, however, until the scourge was completely outlawed throughout the entire British Empire.

The story of William Wilberforce is a story of tenacity and perseverance in the face of adversity. At times, his goal seemed so unattainable that he was tempted to throw in the towel and quit. As the years went by, he struggled with discouragement, depression, and even the loss of his own physical health. Convinced of the rightness of his cause, however, he labored on. And in the end, his tenacity and perseverance paid off.

The story of William Wilberforce is also a story of friendship. Elected to Parliament at the tender age of 21, Wilberforce served alongside another young rising political star, William Pitt, who ultimately would become Great Britain’s Prime Minister. Pitt and Wilberforce were close friends, almost like brothers. Throughout their political careers, they worked together on the slavery issue. Although Pitt admits near the end of his life that he lacked the deep faith he so admired in Wilberforce, their close collaboration together reminds us that no man is an island unto Himself. We all need others to help us along life’s way, especially in accomplishing the things that are worthwhile.

The story of William Wilberforce is also the story of faith in action. The viewer sees Wilberforce struggle with the difference between a contemplative Christianity that retreats from the world versus a more activist faith that seeks to engage and change the world. Ultimately, rather than abandoning a career in politics in order to devote his life fully to God, he comes to see that God has specifically placed Him in the political arena in order to do the work of God’s Kingdom.

The story of William Wilberforce is also the story of the power of Christian influence. John Newton, the writer of the classic hymn Amazing Grace—from which the movie’s name is taken—was himself a former slave trader before experiencing God’s saving grace. Newton repented of his sin, abandoned his old life, and responded to God’s call to vocational Christian ministry. Later on, he served as William Wilberforce’s pastor, wherein he had a profound impact on the young legislator’s views of slavery, morality, Christian service, and social justice.

Periodically, I similarly think about my own role as a pastor. Sometimes I think, “Who knows but that one of these children in my congregation might one day grow up to be a great world leader, perhaps a president of the United States?” That’s one reason (among many) that I feel it’s important for me to connect with the children in our church family. Because you never know what lasting impressions you might be able to plant in their young lives. Impressions that might one day change the world.

Amazing Grace is not a “Christian movie” per se, but it’s a movie with a strong underlying Christian theme that’s hard to miss. It has a PG rating and there are a few words in the dialogue that you might not appreciate. But the name of Christ is verbalized more than once. And Wilberforce can be seen at different times reading his Bible and praying. And there’s also quite a bit of discussion as to how one should live out their Christianity in the marketplace. I think every Christian should see this film because it beautifully illustrates the difference a follower of Christ can make in the world around him. Check out http://www.amazinggracemovie.com/ to view the trailer and to read more about this inspirational film.

In conclusion, remember that Amazing Grace is much more than a movie…just as it is much more than a great old hymn. As the life of Wilberforce teaches us, grace, first of all, is something you experience…and then, it’s something you live out in the context of your life every day. And when that happens, it truly is amazing...and you really do have something to sing about.

Pastor Danny

Rockin’ Miss Liberty

Have you driven along Piney Forest Road recently? If so, perhaps you’ve seen the unusual live promo that’s been going on since the first of January. It seems that a local income tax service has hired a young lady to dress up like the Statue of Liberty and stand along the roadside each day from about 8 AM to 6 PM. All day long, she waves at passing cars and seeks to draw attention to the business she represents. The interesting thing about this real life statue is that she wears earphones under her crown with which she apparently listens to some jivin’ tunes on her iPod. Hour after hour, she does a soulful strut to the music while simultaneously smiling, pointing and waving to everyone who looks her way.

Some days, the hip-hoppin’ Lady Liberty is joined by a swingin' Uncle Sam who rocks and rolls alongside her in his white goatee, star-spangled duds, and red, white & blue suede shoes. In some instances, Miss Liberty is accompanied by multiple Uncle Sams. When that happens, the assemblage looks kind of like Gladys Knight & her patriotic Pips. At other times, she is joined by additional Lady Liberties, and the whole act takes on the flavor of Diana (Betsy) Ross and the Supremes. On some occasions, the main Miss Liberty has had the day off and they’ve had a substitute Lady Liberty filling in. But it’s just not the same. Nobody moves & grooves quite like the original.

Driving along Piney Forest, I’ve waved at Miss Liberty a few times. I’ve honked my car horn at her. I’ve even thought about stopping by just to say “hello” to this living, breathing national monument, but I’m afraid that I might inadvertently get corralled into using the tax service she represents, and I really prefer to do my own taxes at home online.

If I did have the chance to stop and converse with Miss Liberty, I would want to commend her for a job well done. It seems to me that her number one assignment is to get people’s attention, and she’s certainly doing a good job of that. Furthermore, I would want to compliment her for seeming to truly enjoy her work. Just think of how many people look upon their job as a drudgery. But here’s a lady that gets up every morning, puts on her greenish Statue of Liberty attire, and dances and smiles and waves to people all day long…even when the wind is blowing and the temperature is in the 30s.

Some people might think “How boring!” But to me it sure looks like she’s having a good time. And because she’s having such a good time, those that pass her way seem to get a little bit of a lift as well.

How could a person stand outside…all day long…in the cold…along a busy roadside…in a silly costume…and be so happy? I don’t know, but it kind of makes you wonder what she’s listening to on those earphones, doesn’t it?

I suppose the question for us is this: When people pass our way, what do they see? Do they see a positive attitude, a pleasant demeanor, a joyful heart...regardless of our immediate circumstances? Or do they see something else? I Peter 3:15 says “But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” This statement implies a few things. First, it implies that you are living a life of hopefulness in the midst of some generally less-than-hopeful circumstances. (Hence, people note that your life is different from that of others.) It also implies that you have positioned yourself in proximity to some people that need the hope of Christ in their lives. (In other words, you've not totally isolated yourself from unbelievers.) It furthermore implies that others are not only attracted to your hopefulness but they also sense your approachability. (In other words, people trust you. They feel they can safely and freely come to you without fear of rejection or condemnation and ask you what it is that makes your life so different.)

Look around you today. Are there people within your sphere of influence that could be encouraged by a caring attitude, a kind word, and an upbeat, positive, joyful demeanor? Is that what you’re presently projecting to them? Remember, people watch our lives every day. We don’t have to be wearing a costume or standing on a street corner to draw attention to ourselves. People are always watching us, whether we realize it or not.

What are people seeing when they look at you? Do they see the hope of Christ? Do they see a happy heart dancing to the rhythm of God's music deep in your soul? Do people ever look at your life and wonder what frequency you’re tuned into (because they want the same song for themselves)?

Think about that the next time you drive down Piney Forest Road and see Lady Liberty in action. Oh, and by the way, if you've yet to see her, you'd better hurry and do so before April 15th. Because once that day arrives, she’ll be long gone, just like your tax payment. But, wherever she goes after that, I'm sure she'll still be smiling and dancing and enjoying life.

Pastor Danny