Rob Prince's Blog, page 39
June 4, 2020
I am weary
Jesus said, “Come to me all who are weary.” He didn’t say, “Come to me after you’ve figured everything out.” Or “Come to me when you are strong and able.” In fact, he said just the opposite. Weary ones come.
I don’t know about you, but I’m a bit weary. Jesus, I am coming to you.
I am weary from the coronavirus, I haven’t contracted it. I’m just sick of it. I am weary from the grief and pain that others have had to bear. Weary that so many are unemployed; weary that many will never re-open their businesses; weary that loneliness and heartache are rampant; weary that people like my mother-in-law have had to be quarantined in their senior living home unable to leave at all; weary from the effects of the stay-at-home order; weary from not gathering for worship with my brothers and sisters. I am weary.
I am weary from yet another example of how racism in America is alive and well. My heart aches for my black and brown brothers and sisters that have a daily reminder that all is not well in America and has never been well in America. I am weary.
I am weary from all the political rhetoric I hear (in and out of the church). Election years make such talk worse. Living in a political “swing state” makes it even worser (I know that’s not a word). The huge, seemingly insurmountable, divide in our country will make this election cycle the worsest (I know that’s not a word too). I am weary.
I am weary that folks think the best place to display their anger, frustration, political bent, agitation, and harshest criticism is on a social media platform like Facebook. There is no dialogue there. No place to show empathy. No listening, only posting. The Fruit of the Spirit (love joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control) has been usurped by the Fruit of Facebook (hate, misery, agitation, intolerance, meanness, nastiness, faithlessness, harshness and a lack of self-control). I am weary.
I am weary that too many of my brothers and sisters in the church feed their souls not with the word of God, but with their favorite news channel. Talking heads rather than our Living Head seem to be their source of knowledge and understanding. I am weary.
My soul is tired. I need the arms of the Savior. I need the blessed comfort that only He can bring. I need the loving embrace of the One who takes my burdens and my weariness and gives me hope and strength. I need to hear His gentle whisper that on Him I can lay my worries. I am weak, but He is strong. In Him we will “find rest for our souls.”
Are you weary too? Run to Jesus.
June 2, 2020
The Thoughts of an Old White Preacher to the events since George Floyd’s death.
The events over the last eight days have brought our country to the brink of divisiveness that we have not seen in fifty years. Following the horrific death of George Floyd, people have taken to the streets to voice their displeasure with the injustices in our system. Some of the protests have turned violent. Those incidents have made the news. Many of the protests were peaceful. Those demonstrations (for the most part) did not make the news. (One notable exception was the response of our own Genesee county Sheriff, Chris Swanson).
Most everyone I know who has seen the video and were horrified. No one wants to see a man die before our eyes. No matter the circumstances.
I worry for our children. When I was a kid, I never saw anything like that video. When I was kid, no one had video cameras. When I was a teenager, a few people had big clunky VHS video recorders. Unless the person owned a TV station, the only people who watched their home videos were guests in their living room. Now everyone with a phone has a video recorder. The video recorded then can be easily distributed to the world on various social media outlets. When injustices or crimes or problems happen now, the world gets to see it because we are a video taking generation. Children now see such horrific images far too often.
You’ve then heard that argument, “We didn’t see what happened before the video started.” What makes this horrible case, in front of us, all the more horrible is that it’s over nine minutes. Nine minutes. I don’t need to see what happened prior to those nine minutes. Even if Mr. Floyd was guilty of a crime, that crime wasn’t a capital offense.
I have friends who have concluded, “This is a bad cop issue. He was a bad apple. We need to get rid of the bad apples.” I understand that on a certain level. I know a lot of really good law enforcement personnel. They aren’t like that cop in Minneapolis. Still I am glad that Southwest Airlines doesn’t take the same approach to their pilots. A few “bad apple pilots” would lead to plane crashes every now and then and none of us would ever fly Southwest Airlines.
I have other friends who have sons just like me. They are good boys, just like mine. But they have had to have conversations that I never had to have with my boys. I never told my boys to be on their best behavior if pulled over by a police officer (of course, I would hope they were always be on their best behavior). I never had to tell them to be careful where they run, how they wear their clothes, or what they say. But my friends have had those conversations just because they have black skin and not white skin. It breaks my heart.
It used to be that the clergy were the moral leaders shouting against injustices in the world. This week, I’ve read statements denouncing racism and the events following George Floyd’s death from sporting figures, school districts, politicians, Hollywood—you name it. Too few are from the church. Where is the church? Where are the Christians who read “what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God (Micah 6:8) and then act upon those words?
So what should this old (and getting older) white Nazarene preacher do?
Here’s what I have concluded: From time to time in funerals I will quote Solomon from Ecclesiastes 3, you know the passage, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal… (Ecclesiastes 3:1-3) Later in that same passage Solomon writes, “a time to keep silence, and a time to speak.” (Ecclesiastes 3:7). It’s time to speak.
Racism is the elephant in living room. When we see it, we need to denounce it. It has no place in holiness. We need to work for justice. We need to have difficult conversations. We need to listen. We need to repent when we’ve been silent. We need to pray and keep praying that God’s will would be done and His kingdom come in Flint (on the earth). In case you have forgotten, John describes heaven this way: I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” (Revelation 7:9-10).
Let’s pray, fast and demonstrate for God’s kingdom to come to earth when God’s people (no matter their color, nationality, or language) will stand together as one body proclaiming the glory of the Lamb.
Lord, let that happen! Amen. Come Lord Jesus! (Revelation 22:20).
June 1, 2020
We are in the Valley of Death (pandemic, national unrest, injustice). What can a shepherd to do?
These are difficult days to be a pastor. As you know, pastoring is likened to shepherding in the Bible. I have a parishioner who sees me and says, “Hey, Shepherd.” I like that. But it’s tough to be a shepherd when one’s flock is locked in their homes or nursing facilities or hospitals. It’s tough to shepherd when the sheep are dying and you can’t be there. It’s hard to be a shepherd when so many of us are shaken by the needless death of George Floyd and the unrest in our country. It’s tough to be a shepherd in a valley full of wolves.
Shepherds are to be with his/her flock in dangerous territory, not absent for three months. My people haven’t seen me, but this is no sabbatical. Along with the rest of our pastors, I’ve tried to contact and connect as much as I can with as many of our people as possible. I’m still preparing and preaching sermons from an empty sanctuary (nearly empty—the tech guys are there). No question that I am working more now than I was before the pandemic. Then, of course, there is this horrific pandemic and all of the baggage associated with it: a mind-numbing-number of deaths, sickness, unemployment, mental health issues, fear, worry, loneliness, etc. The cherries on the top of this never-before-dealt-with-pressure-cooker environment is our nation reeks with racial unrest, injustice that has existed far too long and it’s an election year (never fun even in good years). If this isn’t a “valley of the shadow of death,” I don’t know what is.
I’m a pastor/shepherd with limited access to his people/flock; working more but with less feedback; anticipating more friction when we do gather again (see above statement on mental health or lack thereof in the body and the divisive times in which we live); and experiencing a not-so-healthy dose of some Monday-morning blues following yesterday’s less-than-spectacular sermon. I am left in a mixture of lament, angst and frustration. Is this the he “wall” that others ministers have reported hitting. I don’t think it is. I think it is irritation of our dire situation, knowing our people need spiritual guidance like never before and yet feeling like my hands are tied behind my back. I see the wolves; know their viciousness but this shepherd needs help.
There is light at the end of the tunnel. I know this. There are plenty of stories of God’s faithfulness through these strange and curious times. I know this too. But can I admit that these times are bigger than what this shepherd can accomplish with my measly rod and staff (not my pastoral staff… they are awesome)? We need a mighty movement of the Good Shepherd in this valley with us.
In my upcoming Sunday’s sermon (I’m preaching through Mark this summer), Jesus states that “the day will come when his followers will fast” (Mark 2:20). If these never-before-in-our-lifetime events don’t call us to fast, what will? If we can’t fast now, when will we? We are in the valley of wolves. They are attacking. Our sheep need us. Our churches, our cities, our country, our world needs Jesus. Our best weapon is prayer.
So in an effort to practice what I am about to preach, I’ve committed to doing what Jesus said we should do when he’s not around– Fast. Just a few meals maybe more. Can I encourage you to do the same? Let’s get very serious and desperate and faithful and cry out to God in our valley of wolves. If not now, when?
We are in the Valley of Death (pandemic, national unrest, injustice). What’s can a shepherd to do?
These are difficult days to be a pastor. As you know, pastoring is likened to shepherding in the Bible. I have a parishioner who sees me and says, “Hey, Shepherd.” I like that. But it’s tough to be a shepherd when one’s flock is locked in their homes or nursing facilities or hospitals. It’s tough to shepherd when the sheep are dying and you can’t be there. It’s hard to be a shepherd when so many of us are shaken by the needless death of George Floyd and the unrest in our country. It’s tough to be a shepherd in a valley full of wolves.
Shepherds are to be with his/her flock in dangerous territory, not absent for three months. My people haven’t seen me, but this is no sabbatical. Along with the rest of our pastors, I’ve tried to contact and connect as much as I can with as many of our people as possible. I’m still preparing and preaching sermons from an empty sanctuary (nearly empty—the tech guys are there). No question that I am working more now than I was before the pandemic. Then, of course, there is this horrific pandemic and all of the baggage associated with it: a mind-numbing-number of deaths, sickness, unemployment, mental health issues, fear, worry, loneliness, etc. The cherries on the top of this never-before-dealt-with-pressure-cooker environment is our nation reeks with racial unrest, injustice that has existed far too long and it’s an election year (never fun even in good years). If this isn’t a “valley of the shadow of death,” I don’t know what is.
I’m a pastor/shepherd with limited access to his people/flock; working more but with less feedback; anticipating more friction when we do gather again (see above statement on mental health or lack thereof in the body and the divisive times in which we live); and experiencing a not-so-healthy dose of some Monday-morning blues following yesterday’s less-than-spectacular sermon. I am left in a mixture of lament, angst and frustration. Is this the he “wall” that others ministers have reported hitting. I don’t think it is. I think it is irritation of our dire situation, knowing our people need spiritual guidance like never before and yet feeling like my hands are tied behind my back. I see the wolves; know their viciousness but this shepherd needs help.
There is light at the end of the tunnel. I know this. There are plenty of stories of God’s faithfulness through these strange and curious times. I know this too. But can I admit that these times are bigger than what this shepherd can accomplish with my measly rod and staff (not my pastoral staff… they are awesome)? We need a mighty movement of the Good Shepherd in this valley with us.
In my upcoming Sunday’s sermon (I’m preaching through Mark this summer), Jesus states that “the day will come when his followers will fast” (Mark 2:20). If these never-before-in-our-lifetime events don’t call us to fast, what will? If we can’t fast now, when will we? We are in the valley of wolves. They are attacking. Our sheep need us. Our churches, our cities, our country, our world needs Jesus. Our best weapon is prayer.
So in an effort to practice what I am about to preach, I’ve committed to doing what Jesus said we should do when he’s not around– Fast. Just a few meals maybe more. Can I encourage you to do the same? Let’s get very serious and desperate and faithful and cry out to God in our valley of wolves. If not now, when?
May 29, 2020
May 28, 2020
Dad Jokes (Quarantine Style)
A cheerful disposition is good for your health; gloom and doom leave you bone-tired. Proverbs 17:22 The Message.
This week we’ve seen the Coronavirus death toll in the US go over 100,000; racism rear its ugly head in Minnesota and New York City; and politics being, well…politics. It’s enough to make you bone-tired. Consider this your daily dose of bone-tired relief (and a few groans too).
Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Coronavirus
Coronavirus?
Yes.
Get away from my door, you slimy germ, before I knock the “Coronavirus Who” right out of you. (Not funny but true)
Why did Batman and Robin feel safe riding in the Batmobile together?
They were both wearing masks.
Why did Robin still catch Covid-19?
Have you seen Robin’s mask?
What did the bank robber say to the Chase Saving and Loan bank teller as he was robbing the bank?
Allow me to social distance you from all of your money.
Three people are wearing masks, which one is the bank robber?
The one holding a bag marked “Chase Saving and Loan.”
Why did the chicken cross the road?
A chicken on her original side of the road was not wearing a mask.
How many elephants can socially distance inside a Volkswagen?
That depends on what they have in their trunks
What’s a “quaranton”?
A Volkswagen with two elephants. A Quanan-two-ton has four elephants in the car and one in the trunk. (Is it me or are all elephant jokes dumb—even—especially my own?)
What do you call a 14-year-old during the stay-at-home order?
“Quaranteen”
What do you call a very small person during the stay-at-home order?
“Quaranteenytiny”
What happens when a pack of wolverines stop social distancing?
A Spartan quarterback is sacked
What do you call an Ohio State Buckeye Football player holding a face mask?
If you’re a referee in the Michigan vs. Ohio State football game– you don’t see the Buckeye holding a face mask (A little bitter football humor)
Why are Detroit Lions’ fans happy there is a quarantine?
Finally, an undefeated season, baby! (more bitter football humor)
A priest, a rabbi, a Baptist preacher and Nazarene pastor decide to go to a barber shop– what do they say?
Nothing. The place is closed. (Although I think the priest, rabbi and Baptist mumbled something about the governor on their way back to their cars.)
Why was the Nazarene Pastor ok with the barber shop being closed during the quarantine?
Maybe this year, he’ll get picked to be Jesus in next Easter’s Pageant. (Young Preacher’s answer)
Maybe this year, he’ll play Santa Claus at the Children’s Christmas Party (Old Preacher’s answer)
She was looking for a beauty salon not a barber shop (Woman preacher’s answer))
How many quarantined pastors does it take to change a lightbulb?
One in this house. My wife, barber, camera person, announcement queen and a few other things, finally got a certain you-know-who to stop telling corny quarantine jokes and do a little work around the house.
Clearly my calling is to be a pastor and not a joke writer for Jimmy Kimmel.
