Going home...

A colleague of ours (that would be Brandon) asked today if I would be blogging on our transition back to the US for our stateside assignment. We arrive in Nashville on July 6. His question got me thinking. It's not a bad idea. What are the things that will be hard? What will I miss? What will I NOT miss? What are the spiritual implications of such a move?

I guess the most obvious thing that we are praying about during this next month is actually the same thing we were praying hard about four years ago: our kids. We begged the Father to watch over our kids and give them ease with the language and good teachers and dear friends and fun activities. We prayed for good health and happy days.

And He answered.

Now, we're praying for our kids leaving their good teachers and good friends, their fun activities and the life they've become accustomed to. Rachel has sweet girls that she is very close to and she loves her school. Jeffrey was sad yesterday as he went to his last fencing practice. Daniel doesn't really understand that he won't be seeing Marie or Vincent or Marine next year. He loves his teacher and his school. For all its difficulties, this is life as my children know it.

Next month means wonderful reunions with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends from church. It will be great. But everyone's different now. It's four years later.

Next month means a new school with new teachers and a really different system. It means staying at school all day with no two hour lunch break and going to school on Wednesday.

Next month means American football and baseball and TV. Next month means Sunday School and youth group and GAs and RAs and choir. It also means church several days a week.

Next month means big changes. If anything is weighing on our hearts and prayer lives right now, that's it.

Thanks for listening.

When the body hurts

From time to time on this so-called blog I have reflected on the church. I have lived the last four years of my life trying to figure out what the church is, what part I have in it, and how to plant one in a culture that doesn't really want me to do that. I've started several "series" of posts on the church and managed to finish zero. Oh well.

This weekend, I learned something important about the church as "the body." In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul says that "if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it. Now you are Christ's body, and individually members of it (26-27). We are parts of a body, the church. And when one part hurts, all of it hurts. It doesn't matter whether I'm a foot or a finger, when I hurt, all the body hurts.

Friday night, my buddy Jeff Mathews died. Jeff and his wife, Sylvia, and their little boy, Levi, are part of Smyrna Baptist Church in Chapel Hill, Tennessee, where I was a deacon, a youth worker, a music minister, and then pastor. Jeff and I were ordained together as deacons, sang in the choir together, and even played a little music as part of the much-celebrated "Four Amigos" of Annual Church Picnic fame. He was only a couple of years older than me, but was full of joy and wisdom and kindness and all the things you want as a member of the body. When this young buck pastor stepped over his bounds, Jeff had the amazing gift of bringing together older deacons and younger members. His smile and easy manner could bring peace to a tense situation. Everybody loved Jeff Mathews.

Then, four years ago, we left Smyrna Baptist Church of Chapel Hill, Tennessee, to come to France. Jeff and I have probably talked a couple of times since then for maybe half an hour total. But when we got the news about him Saturday morning, our hearts broke. Even after four years away, we hurt like we were there, and because we weren't there. Right now, as I'm writing this, they're having Jeff's funeral near Smyrna Baptist Church in Chapel Hill, Tennessee, then he'll be buried in the cemetery right out the front driveway, down the road to the right, and down about a quarter mile from Smyrna Baptist Church of Chapel Hill, Tennessee. Many of my friends are gathered together, probably pretty crowded in the chapel, where they're singing and remembering.

And I'm thousands of miles away. When one member suffers, all the members suffer with it.

Here in Paris, France, I got out my Ivan Parker southern gospel CD and listened to "Gone" and "Beulah Land" and "Because He Lives." I read 1 Corinthians 12 and Psalm 23 and some other passages that comfort me. And I remembered, too.

Because the body is the body, and we are its members. That's the church.

A Sabbath Day

Today, I had a sabbath.

Not that I intended it that way. This morning was worship with the church at Rosny-sous-Bois. After a quick lunch, Jeffrey had a fencing tournament, then another hour of praise at the church. Any other Sunday, we would have worshiped together with others in our home. Sunday is a busy day.

On the way home from church, though, I had a flat tire. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal because we have a full-size spare. But the spare was already on because of the flat tire I had yesterday on the way to the grocery store. So, two flat tires on Sunday means no car. So, we stayed home.

I tried to do a little work -- just emails and such. But there haven't been any emails all weekend. I tried to read some of my seminar reading, but just couldn't get my mind on it. So, I piddled a little here and a little there. I watched a bloopers show with the boys. I took a half-hour nap. I studied up a little on the new nutrition guidelines from the French government then fixed mushroom omelets with extra butter. This blog post is the first "work" I've done all day, and you can tell I'm not working too hard on that.

Jesus was walking through some grain fields one day with his friends. For a snack, they began to pluck the heads of grain from their stalks. Some pharisees saw them and questioned their devotion and commitment. Jesus told them a story about how David went into God's house and took the bread there, ate it, and even shared it with his friends. Then Jesus (I imagine) looked over the fields, then at his friends, and said, "the sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath" (Mark 2:23-28).

Today, I had a day of rest. God made it just for me, whether I meant for it to be that way or not. And I'm thankful.

Joyeux Noël

We wish you a wonderful and blessed Christmas. As we celebrate the coming of our Savior into the world, we join you in rejoicing that He is Lord over all -- from Tennessee, Texas, and New Mexico all the way to the suburbs of Paris and everything in between.

For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name will be called
Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6

Car un enfant nous est né, un fils nous est donné,
Et la domination reposera sur son épaule;
On l'appelera Admirable, Conseiller, Dieu puissant,
Père éternel, Prince de la paix.
ESAIE 9:5

Joyeux Noël et bonne année! (Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!)

Jeff, Melanie, Rachel, Jeffrey, and Daniel

What I'm Thankful For Today...

I posted this on our "prayer blog" and thought it was important enough to put wherever I could:

Even though Thanksgiving is not a day celebrated in France, and even though I’m working today, and even though the kids are in school, I’m still celebrating. I’m overwhelmed by all that I’m thankful for and by the God Who has blessed me in spite of myself.

So, here they are, in no particular order:

I’m thankful for the sound of my wife singing “Your Grace Still Amazes Me” along with a Phillips, Craig, and Dean CD while she fixes pecan pie in our little kitchen.

I’m thankful for three healthy children who get up every morning loving their Daddy in spite of the fact that I’m not always what I want to be.

I’m thankful for the sound of my children praying.

I’m thankful for thousands of churches and individuals who give from their blessings so that I can do what God has called me to do.

I’m thankful for our partage biblique group, which has become in so many ways what church ought to be.

I’m thankful for my Mom and Dad, who chose me and took care of me and raised me right (even if sometimes I don’t show it).

I’m thankful for a rich heritage given me by my family -- a heritage so foundational that it holds me up whether I live in the US or in another place. I’m thankful for little phrases that are a part of me, like “I only like two kinds of pie: hot pie and cold pie.” (That’s one from my Granddad).

I’m thankful for memory -- of holidays and regular days, of grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles and in-laws and friends.

I’m thankful that I’m a new man, re-made by God, who gave His Son so that I could live and know Him forever. I’m thankful that He doesn’t change and that He’s faithful even when I’m not. I’m thankful for His Word and for the Holy Spirit, left to encourage me and convict me, explain things to me and correct me.

I’m thankful for beauty -- my childrens’ smiles, my wife’s eyes, a freshly-plowed field, music, art, a Cathedral, whatever it might be. It’s a reminder of how God wants things to be.

I know there’s so much more. And I’m thankful for that, too.

Happy Thanksgiving.