Yesterday I put my foot in the hottest baptismal water I have ever experienced. I have now done both extremes: Cold when the heater failed, and reeeaaaallly hot when the heater went berserk. It was funny if you weren't standing in the water, as the video attests. To save embarrassing the other brave souls, this is only my intro, but you will get the idea.
It was way hotter than the hottest hot tub or therapeutic whirlpool I have ever put my foot in. It reminded me of the old Eddie Murphey routine on SNL as he mimicked the godfather of soul doing a song about the "Hot Tub." The most appropriate line in that "song" was, "Haaaayy! Too hot!" You know where to find it.
By the way, another pastor (who baptized four in the firewater) finished after the service, and a large amount of ice had been added to get it to more normal temperature. (And yes, we are getting a thermometer and are adding one more duty to our baptismal committee's responsibilities... "Check the water temp.")
A baptism to remember.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Thanks to the Teachers (part 1)
I was reading 1 Thessalonians 5:12-13 this morning. It started me thinking about those who have taught me. Here are the first two that came to mind, both from Sunday School.
Mr. Blackwell taught the boys Sunday School class I was in when I was ten. What a man of patience. There were about eight of us that came every Sunday, and assorted others who were members of the every-other-week club or the once-a-month club. I am sure that on some days he felt like our number was ten times reality, but he patiently taught us. He also inspired us to do every thing we could (show up, on time, give, read Bible, study lesson, attend worship) so we could score a higher percentage than the other three classes (one boy’s and two girls) thus becoming the “Banner Class” for the week. (I suppose that today this is seen as engendering unhealthy competition, but it got a lot of us started on developing disciplines that we would need all through life.)
Mr. Scott was the teacher of the older boys class in the High School department. Each Sunday, fifteen or twenty of us would crowd into the room, and this very brave man would actually attempt to lead us. He wasn’t the “man’s man” kind of guy. He was pretty mild-mannered, but we knew that he cared about us. He was more interested in us than he was “getting through the lesson.” Every Sunday, he’d give us five to ten minutes to catch up with each other. We had five different high school represented in our class, so this was important. Many times, Sunday was the only day we saw each other. (I often wonder at teachers who lecture for forty-five minutes to children or teens. I don't know adults that have attention spans that long!) After that talk time, he’d call us back to the topic of the day and we would get it done. The most impactful times, though, were when, in those first five or ten minutes, an issue would surface that needed to be addressed. Pushing the lesson aside, he’d help us get God’s perspective on it. I remember especially when a student from one of our schools had died in a tragic automobile accident. Teaching a bunch of high school guys about death and handling grief was more important than the lesson that day. There were other days when the discussion might not have been so grim, but was just as important. He would gently lead us to see how our thinking often differed from God's, and why God's idea was better.
Sunday School teachers (or small group leaders), for the most part, your students won’t remember what you taught them, but they will remember you, and whether or not they sensed that you cared about them. Life is transferred, not taught.
Mr. Blackwell taught the boys Sunday School class I was in when I was ten. What a man of patience. There were about eight of us that came every Sunday, and assorted others who were members of the every-other-week club or the once-a-month club. I am sure that on some days he felt like our number was ten times reality, but he patiently taught us. He also inspired us to do every thing we could (show up, on time, give, read Bible, study lesson, attend worship) so we could score a higher percentage than the other three classes (one boy’s and two girls) thus becoming the “Banner Class” for the week. (I suppose that today this is seen as engendering unhealthy competition, but it got a lot of us started on developing disciplines that we would need all through life.)
Mr. Scott was the teacher of the older boys class in the High School department. Each Sunday, fifteen or twenty of us would crowd into the room, and this very brave man would actually attempt to lead us. He wasn’t the “man’s man” kind of guy. He was pretty mild-mannered, but we knew that he cared about us. He was more interested in us than he was “getting through the lesson.” Every Sunday, he’d give us five to ten minutes to catch up with each other. We had five different high school represented in our class, so this was important. Many times, Sunday was the only day we saw each other. (I often wonder at teachers who lecture for forty-five minutes to children or teens. I don't know adults that have attention spans that long!) After that talk time, he’d call us back to the topic of the day and we would get it done. The most impactful times, though, were when, in those first five or ten minutes, an issue would surface that needed to be addressed. Pushing the lesson aside, he’d help us get God’s perspective on it. I remember especially when a student from one of our schools had died in a tragic automobile accident. Teaching a bunch of high school guys about death and handling grief was more important than the lesson that day. There were other days when the discussion might not have been so grim, but was just as important. He would gently lead us to see how our thinking often differed from God's, and why God's idea was better.
Sunday School teachers (or small group leaders), for the most part, your students won’t remember what you taught them, but they will remember you, and whether or not they sensed that you cared about them. Life is transferred, not taught.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Christmas and Young Voices
I took these pictures during rehearsals (which give me more flexibility to move around-which I like much better) and then during the performance. The faces tell the story. Enjoy.
Yes moms and dads (but no one else). Email me and I can send you the pictures, if we can figure out who is who.:-)
Yes moms and dads (but no one else). Email me and I can send you the pictures, if we can figure out who is who.:-)
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