During my devotional time on Friday, January 22, 2010, I
wrote a simple question in my journal. “God, what are You calling me to do?” It
was a frequent question, especially in January. The question is appropriate for
all followers of Christ as we consider the coming year. How does God want us to
make a difference as individuals? How does He want to use our congregations to
change the world? I promise, if we will ask the question, God will answer.
Sometimes it is quick. Sometimes it is slower than we want. Regardless of the time
frame, it will always be answered. Eight years ago, my answer came immediately.
The line in my journal following the question was, “A Lenten devotional keeps
popping in my mind, but what?” Asking that question and being obedient to the
still, soft voice of God led to this project.
I always fancied myself as a reader, not a writer. I had
written papers, sermons and even blog posts, but I had never undertaken
something of this magnitude. In my own power, I never would have been able to see
it through to completion, but when God calls you to do something for Him, He
will always show up with power, grace and glory. Before this devotional was ever
for the readers, it was for me. I needed to be reminded of the transforming
power of God. I needed to be reminded that He is faithful. I needed to be
reminded that no matter how we might feel as we sit in the fishing boats of our
lives with no fish flopping around our feet that God is still with us. He
pursues. He loves. He calls us to be the kind of people upon which He can
continue to build His Church. I needed to be reminded that not only does God
transform, but also that He has already transformed. He transformed Peter. He
transformed Paul. He transformed countless disciples over the last two thousand
years. He transformed me. It is by no means complete. He still has a long way
to go, but He has been changing this heathen, beer drinking, prideful,
arrogant, self-centered, valueless young man into someone in whom, on his best
days, people can glimpse the glory of God. This devotional, much like the
Season of Lent, is about transforming and recognizing transformation.
I am privileged to look out from the pulpit each Sunday at God’s
garden of transformation. I get to see His sanctifying work in my
congregations. It always inspires a simple pray of gratitude, “Lord I have such
a long way to go! Thank You for filling my life with models of Your
transforming power. Thank You that they let this imperfect person lead their
church. Thank You that they lead me deeper into Your love and grace.” Jesus is
my strength but the followers of Christ are my inspiration; for that, I thank
each and every one of you!
This devotional began with a little piece of my story in
apartment “R” in Landstuhl ,
Germany
I was born the year after the UMC was formed and grew up in
the very traditional side of the United Methodist Church. Worship music
involved pipe organs and pianos. “Thee, Thou and Thy” resounded from scripture
and hymns. Long and even longer prayers, inspired church pew cat naps. Time and again, I received Holy Communion at an
altar rail that separated me from the holy things of God. Those experiences
formed a rudimentary understanding of who and what were holy and who and what
were not. It would be years before I realized my understanding was deeply
flawed. For me, Church was boring. I went out of obligation, more to my parents
than God. It was what I DID on Sunday mornings, on Christmas Eve, at sunrise on
Easter. Prayer was what I did before dinner and before I went to bed. That I had
a relationship with Jesus and a community of His followers never occurred to
me. By the time I was sixteen, I came to the conclusion that I was unholy and
church wasn’t for me.
Eight years later I lived in the suburbs of Washington D.C.
One Sunday, in a school cafeteria, I saw a set of drums in worship for the
first time. Suddenly “Church music” sounded more like “My music” and it was
fun. Maybe I had been missing something? I was there because of a fellow named
Phil. He was a six inches shorter than me, a bit heavier than me (that was
younger, skinnier Faron), and he invited me to hear him sing. For reasons I
cannot explain today, I went and listened. The song was Shepherd Boy by Ray Boltz. The lyrics told the story of God using
ordinary, unexpected people to do extraordinary things. When the world sees
shepherd boys, God sees kings. As I walked in church that morning, I felt like
a nasty, smelly, old sheep. I would never have thought myself a shepherd boy
much less a king, but as I listened, a chord of hope struck in my heart. Maybe
there was more to me than what I saw in the mirror. I kept going to church with
Phil and his family. Church was fun but I also began to understand that there was
more to following Christ than just going to church. God didn’t want names on a
membership role, He wanted a renewed relationship. Phil helped me begin to live
into one, but it would be a while before I completely understood what that
really meant.
Four years later I was living in Hot Springs Arkansas. I was
divorced and remarried with a step-son, a son and a daughter on the way. We
hadn’t found a church yet, so my wife’s future brother-in-law invited us to his
to hear him sing. Richard was shorter but only a little heavier as my “married
with children” waistline was growing. From the first note of the accompaniment
track, I knew Richard was singing Shepherd
Boy. Like Phil, it was his favorite song. Richard was different than anyone
I had ever met. He devoted his entire life to God. He had no television and
only went to “G” rated movies because he didn’t want to expose himself to
anything ungodly. He spent hours each day in devotionals, read book after book
on his faith and if he wasn’t at church he was with friends from church. He
didn’t drink, smoke or cuss, yet having given up all of this “fun” stuff his
life was still filled with a joy that I had not known for quite some time. While
Phil introduced me to the concept of relationship, Richard showed me a life of
devotion. My understanding was growing, I got my first hint of a call, but I
still had a lot to learn. The idea that God would want someone like me to be a
pastor terrified me, so I fled to Kenai, Alaska and stopped going to church.
I threw myself into my job and pushed the budding, devoted
relationship into the shadows of my mind. I didn’t need a relationship with a
God who thought I was pastor material, but God never gave up on me. Into my
office walked Terry. He was shorter than me, but thanks to my waistline
outpacing my age by a factor of ten we were about the same size. Terry worked
for the local radio station and was there to sell me advertising. As we talked
music, I discovered his favorite song, Shepherd
Boy. Can you seeing a pattern here? Officially he was on a sales call, but
Terry came back each week to talk to me about God. He introduced me to two
Christian authors, Joseph Grizone and Max Lucado, who would completely
transform my understanding of and relationship with God. In the mirror, I saw a
smelly sheep, a dirty sinner, a failure, and someone God wouldn’t love. I knew
with certainty that I was the kind of person Jesus would have shunned. Through
Terry’s books, I learned that I was wrong! I was Jesus’ kind of guy. He would have
hung out with me. He could even use a guy like me to build His church. God
loved me the way I loved my children. There was nothing they could ever do to
make me love them any less. Understanding God’s love for me ignited my
relationship and devotion. I was back in church, worshipping, giving, serving
and listening to His voice, but that sense of calling still scared and confused
me.
That was my state of mind in April of 2001 when the phone
rang. My younger brother Neil died unexpectedly. The red-eye out of Alaska was
the quickest way to unite with my family in Louisiana. I arrived to parents and
a sister who were emotionally distraught, so my first task was planning a
funeral, especially the music. I wanted Shepherd
Boy. It was an appropriate song to describe Neil’s life, but Bill didn’t
know it, couldn’t find it, and wasn’t going to perform it, so we instead got
Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven. We
read in this journal that while the world may be finished with something, God
may not be? That was definitely the case here. My desire for Shepherd Boy to be sung was apparently God’s
desire. Throughout the funeral God spoke to me. It wasn’t an audible voice. It
came from that still, small certainty inside. He wanted me to sing it. My
answer was “NO! I can’t and won’t sing!” Who knew an internal argument could
become so heated. My refusal was met with a reply, “I didn’t ask if you could
sing, I told you to sing it.” I renewed my objection, but He would not be quiet
and wore me down. I agreed if He would just stop talking.
Now there are two things you need to understand before we finish
the story. First, a singer I am not. That reality was confirmed after the
funeral when an old family friend told me to keep my day job. Second, I had
sung this song to my children every night for the last six years as I put them
to bed. While I didn’t possess the vocal prowess to sing in public, I did know
every word by heart. In obedience, I stood, apologized in advance to the 150
people gathered at the graveside, placed my hands on the end of Neil’s casket
and began to sing. As I was finishing the first verse, my voice began to crack
and the tears started to pour. My career as a vocalist was coming to a
screeching halt. It was at that very moment the Holy Spirit showed up. Loud and
strong, I finished the song. I was shaking and they had to guide me to a chair.
Never in my life have I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit as strong as I did
at that moment. It was the first time in my life, I obeyed God’s call to do
something that I was incapable of doing in my own strength and skill. I was
uncertain, but obedient, and God showed up. In that moment I was taught the
foundational truth I needed to follow His call. My time with my family ended
with an afternoon flight on which I fled God’s voice telling me it was time to
preach. A few months later, I finally surrendered to the call that led me to
writing this devotional today.
If you haven’t figured it out by now, let me make it clear:
my “three” is Shepherd Boy. Just as
God continued to approach Peter with groupings of three; God continued to
approach me with this song. Just as Peter found healing for his past, strength
and help in his present and hope for his future in “three,” I found the same
things in the words of this song and in the lives of the men who kept sharing
it with me. God’s will for Peter’s life was for him to be The Rock upon which
He would build His Church. He communicated that in threes. God’s will for my
life was for me to be a preacher of the Gospel. He communicated that to me
through a song.
Even if nothing spoke to your heart while reading this
devotional, please accept this one truth, “God is calling you to do something
incredible for His Kingdom. Your strength will not be enough to successfully
fulfill His call. You must depend on His and He will never disappoint. Listen
for His still, small voice and you will hear your unique call.” Peter had his
threes. I had Shepherd Boy. How is
God calling you?
God sees in each of us so much more than we see in the
mirror. His will for our lives is to transform us into that very image. Lent is
a time when we prepare our hearts by inviting Him in to do some spring cleaning;
this devotional has been about facilitating that process. In closing, I invite
you to listen to Shepherd Boy. May
God bless you this Easter morning with a life filled with joy, hope and the
transforming power of the Holy Spirit.
