Two Years

It's been two years since I started blogging. I have learned a lot. Met a lot of friends I would have otherwise never known. And, I believe, grown as a writer. So, to celebrate two years of blogging, here is a reprise of that first attempt. Please don't laugh too hard. It is unedited :)


OK. Occasionally, I read a weblog. When I do, it is either Al Molher’s or Wade Burrleson’s (See favorite places.) Until recently. My wife stared to “blog.” So I check out hers everyday, and would encourage you to do the same. http://pattyspspot.blogspot.com/



Alright, so much for the blatant advertisement.


I write emails, not blogs. I write sermons—well I used to write them, before God and Clarks River put a stop to that. I write job descriptions now. Whoo boy. Now I guess I write blogs. Who knew that I had a following with my emails. So this I write for my fan base at Annette Winn elementary school. You guys rock!






What I could not understand, but have just begun to realize, is why God did not provide a church for us when we left CRBC. What I have found is that God definitely wants us to learn something about church and ministry.






Here is a big one. What is up with all the plastic in the pulpit? We have visited a lot of churches since moving to Atlanta. Big ones, little ones, and everything in between. What I have noticed is that many preachers have forgotten that they are called to be pastors!






The Bible uses three terms for those who are called to be the “pastor” of a church. Elder (Presbuteros), Bishop (Episkopos), and Pastor (Poimen). We in the Baptist realm shirk the whole Elder and Bishop thing. We will leave the high falut’n titles to the Episcopalians and Presbyterians. Pay close attention to the Greek words in the title.






The term poimen translates literally into Shepherd. Ah, ha. Shepherd. A pastor is to be a shepherd, which is why I prefer the term. You see, a shepherd smells like his sheep. When a lamb is born, the shepherd will hold the lamb in his hands and rub it for hours. Forever after, that man is the sheep’s shepherd. He smells like sheep.






Sheep don’t like plastic, and I’m seeing a lot of plastic in the pulpit. Why can’t these guys see that church members care more about having someone who will sit with them at the hospital, that is just as comfortable talking on the front porch as from the pulpit, and (hello) actually cares more about their lives than they do about great oratory.






I can’t tell you the number of times I have sat in a church lately and watched a preacher stand at the front of the church, waiting to be approached! It makes me scratch my head. Have we come so far that we believe we are an elite group of Holy men? Plastic preachers, preaching from plastics pulpits. Well, ladies and gentlemen, step right up and see a real, live pastor. Or at least, read a real live pastor. Oh, well. I have vented. Check back to find out what I have to say about what God reveals in His word.