The Entire Counterfeit Library

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The Entire Counterfeit Library

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• A Desperate Cry
• Once Burned, Twice Shy

The Entire Counterfeit Library

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I lost it during a local Wednesday night praise service. Months upon months of pent-up heartbreak brought tears rolling in like a surprise storm at sea. I stumbled past the open mike and positioned myself directly in front of the first row and then came the desperate plea so long bottled up in me from months of being washed over with trust acid (when someone you love and trust begins to betray in a way that eats the relationship alive slowly and painfully). My desperate cry:

Lord, hear my plea: By the authority given me in Jesus I ORDER all prodigal children to come home that they might once again have hope and that our broken hearts might be restored. Will You turn a deaf ear to me? I’m begging for mercy not wrath, Lord, what every wandering child deserves put on me and take me, but I WILL NOT GO WITHOUT MY DAUGHTER!!!

Lord [a long silence filled with only barely audible wimpering] … Lord [more silence and a hard swallow] … I miss my daughter, will You bring her back? For every family with a child who has lost their way, as I did, surround the entirely family with a hedge of angels that not one toe of one family member be stubbed on any stone. Lord, our hearts are turned toward You, turn their hearts to You.

The prayer prompted a passionate plea from one brother for his two brothers and other prayers that were intended to encourage me, I think. A friend who knows the journey of being a parent of a prodigal prayed for grace for all of us to be “patient” while God worked. This was a wise prayer of someone who has already accepted what I have not, that my child may continue to struggle for a long time.

Many of us with children who are struggling feel this way; I know because other parents tell me. However, I rarely hear a prayer like this. The language of this impromptu plea is not unique to me nor is the attitude — I was praying a loosely veiled version of Psalm 44. Psalm 44 was likely written by David during the cave years, the time after he fled King Saul’s court but still long before he became king of Israel. David received a promise (that he would be king) but saw very little evidence to support this for many, many years.

It seems obvious to this melancholy man that David would experience times of great despair; it’s less obvious to me that He would express it so honestly to God. David, after all, is described by God as “the man after my own heart” (Acts 13:22), an expression of great intimacy and one I would like attached to me, so I will wail some more when it is authentic. God loves me enough to allow it and, in fact, may treasure my pleas as He did David’s. How many times have you gladly listened to your child rant? Doesn’t it make sense that our Father is okay with that?

Now it’s time to take our desperate pleas public so that we may find in our churches and communities those who can and will support us in this sometimes long, but always painful wait for our prodigal children. Will you join me in outing parents of prodigals and ending the miserable silence?

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I’m wrestling with going public locally with my call to ministry. I heavily invested myself in online ministry a couple of years ago and local opportunities expanded significantly since then. I knew in my twenties that God built me to pastor and God has confirmed this through a number of other, more recent sources. It’s always good to have a reality check.

The first issue I have with making this local knowledge is the stigma attached to pastors. I don’t want that and, frankly, I don’t fit that mold very well. That wouldn’t work for me or anyone else. I’m too fond of the wisecracking, instigator @mcProdigal. Truth be told, I would never be serious if it was left to me, but God calls and I owe Him everything. If you haven’t lived without hope in the last few years, you should try it if only to understand how rich is the gift God offers.  I am compelled to offer this gift to others and to love my neighbors at any level that is presented to me.

The second issue is the disastrous end to my ministry as a twenty-something minister more than twenty years ago. The most obvious lingering effect of the actions that led to my lengthy prodigal run is the fear that I feel right now as I discuss this topic. Once burned, it’s difficult to approach the flame, even if you need the light.

I cannot publicly declare my recommitment to ministry without choosing to do so in faith and, when push comes to shove, who really “wants” to do that?!

Lord, please consider this my public recommitment to ministry in any form and in any environment that you choose … Richard

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I was and am pro-life both as an agnostic and a Christian. My view is this:

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I played most of the major sports when I was younger. I loved competing and discovering that in competition I was capable of doing things that I did not know I could do. I had a lot of memorable moments, all memories of achievement and joy rolled into one tight package. My fondest memory was of an accomplishment not my own and from a most unexpected source.

I was dressed in my baseball uniform and headed out to a game when I was 15. I turned on the television just in time to see the 1973 Belmont Stakes. Secretariat won the first two legs of the Triple Crown of horse racing that year. No one watched horse racing then or now unless there was potentially a Triple Crown winner, one horse that won the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness and then the Belmont Stakes. Year after year horses came up against the formidable foe of Belmont and lost after winning the first two races. Why? Belmont is the longest of the three and better built for marathon runners not sprinters like the others, so year after year fine sprinters rounded the final turn there and died a thousand deaths from total exhaustion. They were bred and trained for shorter distances. Slower, more durable horses win the final leg of the crown.

It was time for me to leave and I was never late for a baseball game, baseball was my first love. I couldn’t turn away once the race started and the horses sprinted into the first turn and beyond, approaching the final turn and then IT happened, the IT I had longed for since my dad abandoned me when I was 4. This horse did the near impossible and actually surged where most others failed, where I had failed to keep my dad with our family. Secretariat surged and surged and surged, transforming into a chestnut-colored locomotive — winning the Belmont in a record time and by a record margin or victory. His victory was so contrary to nature and to my experience that I stood mouth agape and stunned.

I saw in those incredible moments that anything is possible for some, that there is a way to soar and I never lost my fascination with doing something for one moment in time that is unquestionably “bigger than life”. You can see my fascination with this in my 2009 Eagle Series right here on this blog, my fascination with the Biblical picture of “mounting up with wings as eagles” (Isaiah 40:31).

I’m in one of those final turns now where many die a thousand deaths. I’m in one of my thousand now, I don’t know how many of the thousand I’ve used. My daughter has run away twice in the last two weeks only to be returned by the police. She came clean with me about drinking and drug problems so I’m setting her up for an evaluation so we can select a good program for her. You lose a lot when you hear news like this. On top of that, she is graduating high school (or not) in January and moving back to Texas, where she’s from. That’s a great loss anyway, to not have her with me every day, and to have her leave in this way. Like all of you, I just want what’s best for my daughter.

My arms are extended straight out from my shoulders like eagle’s wings. I’m going to use these turbulent winds that would knock me down to launch me by turning into the wind. I’m counting on this turn, the result so beautifully expressed in Isaiah 40:31, to allow me to surge where others fail, to soar like an eagle, to surge and surge and surge  like Secretariat into God’s perfect work (Ephesians 2:10). What was meant for bad, God will turn into good, if I trust him enough to turn and look directly into the wind that would topple me, spread my wings and launch.

Do you believe?

What I watched that day:

1973 Belmont Stakes

Secretariat -- Disney’s trailer

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Whether I’m online or local, I’ve noticed that women flock to Bible studies and men do not. Why is that? I know men go to Bible studies, but why do they mostly not go, especially to groups that are designated for men only? Share your views, whether you’re male or female, and help us figure out how not to reach men so that we can eventually reach men.

I am a case in point, I am involved in these ministries:

• Tworship on Twitter (est. 20% male)
• Tworship INDOORS (est. 30% male)
• Tworship Talk (est. 20% male)
• Beauty From Ashes (est 30% male)
• The Potter’s Workshop (est. 5% male)

[shaking head]

Why do I not participate in all-male ministries?

• Egos get in the way
• Men don’t share as openly, leading to dull and predictable discussions
• Men are similar to me, they do not complement me, I prefer diversity

What do you say?

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Tim Keller is a pastor and the bestselling author of Prodigal God, a book that I and countless others loved, so it was easy to pick up Ministries of Mercy. I was not disappointed but I was taken aback that this intellectual pastor would choose “mercy” as his next topic.

Do not withhold good from those who deserve it,
when it is in your power to act. Proverbs 3:27

As with his earlier book, Tim carefully lays the Biblical foundation for ministries of mercy, defining them as any efforts to relieve the pain and/or disenfranchisement of the needy. This includes but is not limited to groups like:

Homeless
Jobless
Hungry
Widows
Orphans
Addicts
Alcoholics

I was pleasantly surprised that the author also walks the reader through steps to prompt them to think of new mercy groups in their own community. There are a lot of practical prompts like this, every section of the book is followed by them. I am left with the impression that Tim and his staff have a great deal of practical experience in mercy ministries.

After establishing the Scriptural basis for mercy ministries, Tim moves on to challenging evangelical Christians who are sometimes found wanting in them. The truth is, we are told to give to widows, orphans, neighbors, etc. and that truth is often overlooked in favor of a nicer sanctuary built in a nicer neighborhood along with a nicer car to drive there where we can pretend the needs don’t exist.

After establishing the fact that we are instructed to help the disenfranchised, even if they are our enemies, and pointing out that we are not obedient in this area on the whole, the author goes into great detail about how to find a ministry of mercy in your area, how to start, how to present it to your church to garner extra resources and how to manage it long-term by building a base of support in your local body from the ground up.

I give Ministries of Mercy by Tim Keller 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Christian Audio provided Ministries of Mercy (audio book) free of charge to me in exchange for writing this review as part of the Christian Audio Reviewers Program.

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I was raised Southern Baptist, okay?! I’m not sure why I felt obligated to say that up front or why this topic makes me so tense. I’m a worshiper,  in fact, it was listening to “worship” music that I remembered from more than 20 years prior that was partially responsible for the end of my lengthy prodigal run. God intervened directly in my life — that was unmistakable — but I was left with this question: Which God intervened directly in my life? Bad experiences in Christian church buildings had contributed to my disenchantment with God so I was prejudiced against this God being that God, the Christian God.

I made a CD of some old Christian songs that I remembered, mostly simple choruses and hymns, and noticed that ;my heart would soar listening to them. Now I knew that it was that God after all. I would listen to this music when I was driving alone and often raised my available right hand. This was noteworthy because I was not a hand raiser in my youth.

When I finally worked up the nerve to walk into a church building again, I walked into a building full of hand raisers. I did not want to conform at any level because I still held some bitterness toward Christian congregations, I, of course would not raise my hands. I assumed that anyone who did desperately needed attention and I despised them.

I had a dilemma, I found that raising my hands was a spontaneous expression of worship for me but I did not want to appear to be “one of those”, whatever “those” are. I sought seats at the rear of the congregation so I could raise my hands at will and yet make it clear to everyone else that I did not need attention. This felt disingenuous — I use that word because it sounds much better than “fraud-like” or its dreaded twin “hypocritical”. I’m not sure why I was surprised that holding strong resentment toward Christians in general and hand raisers in particular impeded my worship. It took me months to unravel this truth while I repeatedly tried to reconcile the difference between the spontaneous, unfettered Richard and the uptight, contemptuous one.

Now I raise my hands when I feel it and don’t when I don’t. I most often raise just my right hand, bending it at the elbow over and over in celebratory praise. Of course, if you are new to our local congregation, this appears a great deal like a really big guy angrily shaking his fist at God. I’ll call this “cognitive dissonance” because it sounds more Christian than “frightening the children”.

I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. \o/

Psalm 63:4

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