One Pastor's Perspective

This past Sunday evening I met with core leaders of Ebenezer Baptist Church.  It was not a top-secret, clandestine meeting of the Rothchild’s of EBC or anything like that.  It was our Sunday evening group.  Sunday evenings have modified at EBC and become more of a small group time where the committed of Ebenezer come out for one more time of study and reflection before we start the week.  And, I like it.

This past week I issued a challenge to them, and I think any serious follower of Christ should take this challenge.  The challenge is this:  WHO ARE YOU POURING INTO?  And WHO IS POURING INTO YOU?

The New Testament models of discipleship, of growing in our relationship with Christ, teach us that we need to surround ourselves with people who will help us grow, and we in turn might help them grow.  This leads us to be honest and open about life, about the issues (both those we have faced AND those we have in front of us), about our successes, about our failures.  Simply, I know there are mistakes I have made in my life.  Where I probably shouldn’t go to the highest mountain and shout them to the universe, if I have a friend who is facing some of the same tough situations, why not be honest about the mistakes I made and help him???

I have a handful of friends that I KNOW I can trust to give me good advice.  To give me perspectives that I might not be able to see as I face problems and issues.  I am thankful for them.  And, in return, sometimes I get to help them.  But they probably help me far more than I return the favor.

It is helpful to see what God is doing in the lives of others… How others deal with His word and how it applies to our lives.  Those different perspectives mean the world to me, and I believe the Holy Spirit works in all of these things to help us grow.  I need others who are in the Word and are willing to help ME in the Word.

SO … Have you found solid followers of Christ to help with this??  WHO ARE YOU POURING INTO??  WHO ARE YOU ALLOWING TO POUR INTO YOU??

In other words:  HOW TO MAKE A LASTING DIFFERENCE IN THIS WORLD …

Legacy.  A piece of our lives that lives on beyond us.  For some, the legacy left will be very good.  For others, not so much.  How is yours developing?

Today I drove to the SC Baptist Convention Building in Columbia for a meeting of the Baptist Foundation of South Carolina, for which I am an ambassador (albeit, not a very good one).  It was a chance to meet a couple of new friends and fellow pastors, to reconnect with some old ones, and to jump back into my role of support for this very vital ministry in our state.  Later today, Diana and I have a meeting here in Columbia with a local attorney who is handling our estate documents (but that is another story for another day).  We were connected with him through the Baptist Foundation and their partnership with Philanthrocorp.  Another neat story.

But imagine my surprise when I realized the highlight of this meeting was the annual awarding of the Dr. Lonnie H. Shull, Jr, Legacy Award, given to a South Carolina Baptist who has exemplified generosity and service to our Lord and our state.  And I can think of NO ONE ELSE for whom this award should be named …

I first met Lonnie Shull soon after I surrendered to ministry, left my job in IT and moved to North Greenville College to finish my BA in preparation for seminary.  I was recommended to Fairview Baptist Church (in Greer) as a youth ministry intern, a job I accepted and fumbled through for 9 months.  Lonnie Shull was then the pastor of Fairview and a tremendous influence on my life.  There are so many stories I could tell … And I would probably goof the details.  When I was called to Fairview, a long-time youth pastor had just left and I was tasked with helping the staff hold the Youth Ministry together.  Honestly, if not for a really great team of adult youth workers and their minister of education, Tommy Comer, Fairview would’ve been in SO MUCH TROUBLE.  But God was at work and things worked out well …

Since I didn’t have a youth pastor with whom to work, Tommy and Lonnie took me under their wings.  They both taught me so much about ministry, about people, about serving on a church staff.  It was the kind of eduction you cannot buy, and it is priceless anyway …  Lonnie would take me to the hospital, on crisis calls.  I remember one time riding with him to the house of a member who had just died.  Seeing him in action was indeed priceless.

Lonnie stayed active in my academic plans and routed me down to New Orleans Seminary when NGU could only accept 22 of my 90 transferable hours from Greenville Tech.  (New Orleans took it all!!  So, in that, he helped me save 2 1/2 years of school time).

So, as you can see, I owe that man so much.  But that is NOT where his investment in my ministry ended.  Even though I only served Fairview for 9 months, Lonnie Shull made sure that I applied for their church vocation scholarship.  And, every semester, Fairview paid my tuition.  The folks at Fairview will never know the difference that made to me, to Diana, and to Krissy.  But the legacy didn’t stop there, either!!

Through the years, Lonnie kept up with me.  He encouraged me.  He would always tell me how proud he was of me.  He was a generous man … Yes, generous with money, but generous with so much more.  He continued to pour into me until he could do that no longer.  You see, several years ago, dementia began to take a toll on Lonnie.  The same kind of toll it took on my dad.  In a strange twist of fate, now dementia has taken not only my natural father, but is taking a man who was somewhat of a “father in ministry” to me.  Man, I HATE DEMENITIA.

Today, I got to see his lovely wife, Hazel.  Lonnie was not able to attend the meeting.  She is such a sweet lady and so strong.  My heart breaks for her.  But, I even tell you now like I told her that Lonnie’s legacy IS STILL ACTIVE AND ALIVE.

BECAUSE … I have made it one of my life’s goals to do what Lonnie did to the best of my ability.  I asked God for that a long time ago.  And He has provided.  He has provided men and women over the years who were growing in ministry and God has allowed me to pour in to them.  To stop and have a cup of coffee with them.  To give them chances to share in the pulpit.  To invest in them and their families just as Lonnie invested in me.  I cannot stop this terrible disease from doing what it does.  But I can carry the ball.  It is my turn.  I can live the legacy forward.

My friend Tom Capps (who was also at this meeting) said it best when he said “Lonnie Shull was one of the statesmen of the ministry in SC.  We just don’t have statesmen like him anymore.”  I will probably never live up to it, but I am going to do my best to make sure this legacy continues.

Legacy.  Something handed down from an ancestor to another.  It could be property.  It could be knowledge.  It could be the very thing I write about tonight.

Something happened to me today.  I want to write about it, NOT to toot my own horn, but to give thanks for my mother and father.  Because what happened today was a direct result of their LEGACY to me.  A legacy I have attempted to pass on to my children and hope they will pass on to theirs.

Don’t get your hopes up:  This is probably an insignificant event.  Barely worth reading.  You might want to Facebook and see what people are writing about the Confederate Flag or whatever the hot topic is now.

This afternoon I went to a grocery store after my workout.  There I stood in line with a handful of items.  There were many folks in front of me at the self-checkouts, so I stood.  And waited.  Knowing that I am much quicker than most of them at logging in, scanning my stuff, paying, and exchanging a pleasantry with the attending employee as I take my bags and venture back out into the intense heat.  There was an older lady in front of me and she was hurrying as best she could.  She lifted her debit card to swipe for payment and she dropped it.  And it found its way FAR, FAR to the back of the equipment on the floor.  She looked like she could’ve cried.

I knew what to do.  Why?  Because I was taught to be a gentleman.  A Southern gentleman.  Taught by both my mother and father, from a young age.  When someone needs help, you go out of your way to help.  PERIOD.  She looked at the card and looked back at me with a bewildered look.  I was already putting my stuff on the floor.  She started to bend down and I said “No, ma’am.”  I had to get on all fours and crawl up under the machine.  I grabbed the card with my left hand (you know, the one that will not straighten out yet God has seen fit to help me recover and be able to use it to do all sorts of good stuff).  I handed it to her and she thanked me. Her smile was all the payment I needed.

I really thought nothing of that entire incident until about five hours later.  Then I hit me:  I am that Southern gentleman because I had a mother and father who cared enough about who I would become to teach me to do things like that.  To hold a door for a stranger.  To help someone who needed it without having to be asked.  To do the right thing.  Regardless of race, social status, or any other factor that our world would say separates us.  I am a product of two parents from the South who made sure I obeyed the Golden Rule:  To do unto others as I would like for them to do unto me.  To treat others better than I treat myself.  To love with God’s kind of love.  With the kind of love Jesus showed us when He stretched out His arms and allowed Himself to be nailed to a cross.

So, as you can see, I am not bragging on myself.  I merely did the right thing.  The very thing I was taught to do by Don and Janet Wike.  If I am bragging on anyone, it is them.  And they wouldn’t like it one bit!

I love my state.  South Carolina is a large part of my life.  Sure, I would venture over in to northern Georgia or North Carolina at times when I was young, and even made an obligatory trip to Florida a time or two, but South Carolina always had my heart.  There is just something about this state.  Something about that field of blue of a crescent moon and palmetto tree.  I love it.

I didn’t realize how much I loved it until I moved to New Orleans, Louisiana.  Don’t get me wrong:  I love New Orleans, too.  Love the people.  Love the church I served.  LOVE the seminary I attended.  But there was always something about this state.  Living away for three years helped me know even more how much I love this place.

Fast-forward 20 years later.  One of the most heartbreaking tragedies to ever happen in an American church happens in Charleston.  Nine people … Nine CHRISTIANS.  Nine worshippers were gunned down.  The intent of the shooter?  To start a race war.  But, to quote a long time friend of mine who is now a Charleston resident, “He failed.”

What we see now is a revival, of sorts (to quote another good friend who is a Charleston resident).  We see people bonding together.  White, black, purple, green, EVERY COLOR.  LOVING.  We see the families of those who were brutally murdered FORGIVING the murderer.  (I think because they know it will do no good to hold a grudge.)  We see a city … in SC, it is known as the “Holy City” … Instead of falling into anarchy, this great city has pulled together with love, grace, and mercy.  I believe God is glorified in this.  I believe the devil is mad, because his little plan just failed.

Foiled by Charleston.  Foiled by South Carolina.

And, today, I am prouder than ever before to be a son of South Carolina.  Sure, we have our faults.  We are not perfect.  But we are South Carolina.  And that is pretty great in itself.