Man on the Moon...

If you’re my age or older, you no doubt remember July 20, 1969. I had just turned ten years old and had been introduced to a new hero.  He didn’t score touchdowns or hit home runs. No, we didn’t have his card in a shoe box, or a poster of him on our bedroom walls. Instead, we just had this fuzzy television image of a man in a spacesuit descending a ladder. I ran outside when he’d taken his final step, one that he described as "One giant leap for mankind," and stood gazing at the full moon to see if I could somehow spot Neil Armstrong walking on the moon...

Neil Armstrong’s passing last week gave me cause to stop and reflect on the glory days of our space program of the 1960's and 70's.  I remembered something else that was pretty remarkable that occurred several months before Armstrong took his giant leap during the Apollo 11 mission. And while we might return to the moon’s surface some day, but I'm skeptical that we’ll ever see a recurrence of what happened during Apollo 8.



On Christmas Eve, 1968, Apollo 8 crew members sent magnificent pictures of our planet back to us from the perspective of the moon. I think it was the first time we’d seen the beauty of God’s creation from that vantage point. Then astronauts Frank Borman, James Lovell, and William Anders did what nowadays would be unheard of.



With the largest ever television audience at that point in history watching, the three men began to read:

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth..."

Genesis 1. They read the first ten verses of the Bible. Could you imagine the uproar that such an outrageous act would cause today?? The next day, they did something even more remarkable, by today’s standards...they prayed.

The forces that wrestle for control of our nation wouldn’t stand for such behavior today. The ALCU and atheists organizations would see to it that such outlandish actions never occur. The sad part is, as a society, we’ve succumbed to their pressures, and no astronaut would ever think to acknowledge a creator, let alone pray to one publicly. 

 

The Apollo 11 mission was a demonstration of how far we’d progressed, technologically. Unfortunately, looking back on Apollo 8, we can see how far we’ve regressed, spiritually.  As we remember a true American hero, Neil Armstrong, let's also look back and repeat the prayer of Apollo 8.  The words are just as relevant today as they were in 1968:

Give us, O God, the vision which can see thy love in the world in spite of

human failure. Give us the faith to trust the goodness in spite of our

ignorance and weakness. Give us the knowledge that we may continue to

pray with understanding hearts, and show us what each one of us can do

to set forth the coming of the day of universal peace. Amen.

 

 

 

Apollo 8's Christmas Eve broadcast:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vU5QwuYKIgQ&feature=player_detailpage#t=143s

 

 

Peru, Josh Hamilton, and Chick-fil-A...

I just returned from a ten-day trip with International Commission to Piura, Peru. Actually, I’ve been back for a week, but I’ve been battling a bad summer cold all week, which pretty much sidelined me for the past seven days. But God used the past week to help me focus on some interesting aspects about my trip, and the society we live in...

First of all, it was a fantastic trip. My good friend Donnie and I experienced God’s working in the hearts of the Peruvian people. We met and worked with true servants of God. Holding worship services in their church and in the streets of Piura, conducting home visits, and just talking to people in their neighborhoods.  We witnessed 97 people confess Christ during the week.  The entire crusade saw 2038 new Christians.  Praise God for each and every conversion!

There was an undeniable Spirit of love that existed almost immediately between those brothers and sisters in Christ and us. By the end of the week, though we didn’t know each other’s language, we knew each other’s hearts, and parting was very difficult.

Sharing Christ with the lost souls of Piura came very easily. The Holy Spirit had prepared the hearts of many to hear the Word and respond. Person after person, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers came to know Christ as their personal Lord and Savior. Again, sharing Jesus in that environment came very easy...

Last night my wife and I took in a Kansas City Royals - Texas Rangers baseball game. We especially wanted to go because it was Family and Faith night at the ballpark and several Christian ball players were to speak, including Josh Hamilton, a former MVP of the Rangers.

Hamilton’s story of drug and alcohol abuse is well known.  I was moved by his testimony and message. Our seats were directly in front of the steps that he descended after he spoke.  I was privileged to shake his hand and tell him I appreciated his message.

After Hamilton spoke, another speaker, Scott Dawson, gave a stirring call to the audience, asking those who’d felt moved to receive Christ as Savior to move to an empty section of the stadium, where there were counselors waiting to speak with them. Many began to make their way toward that section. But Dawson did something even bolder. He urged the Christians in the large crowd to lean over and tell the person beside them "If you’d like to walk over to that section, I’ll be glad to walk with you..."

I’d spent a week in Piura, Peru telling everyone I’d encountered about Jesus Christ, but still, I felt a feeling of hesitation overcome me about the guy who’d I’d been sitting next to all game, chatting here and there about this and that...why was that?

In Piura, Peru, I was in tune with God’s Holy Spirit, for sure. I need to be more so in my everyday walk. That’s first and foremost. But there’s an element in our society that has put shackles on the tongues of Christians everywhere. That element reared its ugly head during last week’s Chick-fil-A ordeal. A Christian CEO on a Christian Radio station and in a Christian newspaper said simply he believed in the Bible’s teachings...and there was an outcry from the Political Correctness Police.

I was proud of the turnout at Chick-fil-A last Wednesday...but it should not have been necessary.  The same cultural atmosphere that Chick-fil-A President Dan Cathy encountered by simply stating his belief in the Bible, is the same atmosphere that caused me to hesistate tapping that man's shoulder last night.  We’ve been duped into caring far, far too much of what negative response we might encounter if we share Christ with our neighbor, our coworker, our relative. Shame on us for allowing that fear and intimidation be the driving force, instead of the message we’ve been mandated to spread...

I don’t know for certain whether or not that man sitting next to me was a Christian or not. I do know a couple of things, though. He heard tremendous testimony about how Christ was working in the life of Josh Hamilton. He heard a well-presented plan of salvation from Scott Dawson.  And, though he didn’t respond to my offer, he felt me overcome my initial hesitation, tap him on the shoulder and tell him I’d be happy to walk him over to where the new believers were gathering.

Maybe it will serve as a seed and God will use another to bring him to Christ.  I pray for that.  I also pray God will continue to give me chances to tap someone on the shoulder...and the courage to do so.

A Note From Peru - 2012

I've returned to Peru for another crusade with the Internatiomal Commission, and like last year's crusade, there is obvious evidence of God's work before, during, and no doubt after our visit will be over. My good friend, Donnie, and I alone have had the blessing of witnessing over 50 professions of faith in Christ in the three and half days we been here. The total crusade number is over 500 at this point, with three and a half days to go!

Last night, we held a street service, bringing chairs out into a street.  Not to worry, it wasn't that busy of a street!  Only about two or three cars a minute whizzed by. For once, I made sure I wasn't a back row Baptist. Several were witnessed to as they walked by and I know at least one made a profession of faith.

As we were getting ready to leave, a woman came up to me and asked me to come pray for her ailing mother, which I did, taking Pastor Luis and a couple other men with me. We prayed over her, asking God to ease her pain, and heal the bladder infection she suffered from. Although a rather simple thing here, any infection of the body is a serious situation here.

After we prayed and were getting ready to leave, a woman from the church whispered in my ear "she not believer, brother."  I called my interpreter back and we asked her if we could tell her about Christ. She say yes, and shortly after, became a Christian!

When we left her room, she still had the sickness that had driven her to her bed, but the ultimate sickness that has plagued man since Adam, the sickness of sin, which the Bible says ultimately leads to death, had been completely removed by the Blood of the Lamb. God used her sickness to create a situation where she could hear about Christ...wow.

Appreciate all of your continued prayers.

Allen
Piura, Peru

An All-Star Memory

By all appearances, it was just another rather meaningless game of little league baseball in the little farm town of Arcadia, Kansas. I was 12 years old, on a team my father coached. We’d gone to the championship game the year before in the 11-13 year old league, but the bulk of that winning team had moved up to high school ball, and the remnants left behind made for a fairly mediocre team. So much so, that I was forced to do a lot of the team’s pitching, though it wasn’t my forte by any means.

I started pitching the last game of the season, a season that saw us win four or five games at best. I’d shared pitching duties with another kid all year. We had a third boy, Kent, who was 13, and pitched in a pinch. Kent loved to pitch, but was really was better suited for the outfield.

Something came over my pitching skills that night that was unexplainable. My usual wildness off the mound turned into pinpoint control. My fastball was a little faster, and the curve balls we weren’t supposed to be throwing at that tender age were actually breaking. Seemingly, the spirit of Cy Young had overcome me and I became unhittable...literally.

We played six inning games in those days, and as I walked off the mound at the end of the fifth inning, there was a buzz going about the ballpark...the visiting pitcher’s throwing a no-hitter! I hadn’t allowed a single hit all game and with only three outs to go, the pitching gem was in sight...

As I sat fidgeting in the dugout, my father came up to me on the bench and put his arm around me. I figured he was just going to encourage me, tell me not to be nervous, just keep doing what I’m doing, etc. Instead, he told me something that made a 40 year impression on my life...

Proverbs 10:9 says

Whoever walks in integrity walks securely,
but whoever takes crooked paths will be found out.

Integrity may seem like a dying art these days. We’ve come to live in a world full of mistrust, largely due to integrity’s fading presence. I wrote last week about someone stealing ice water I’d set out for the garbage collectors on a scorching hot day. Jesus said it best when he instructed:

But let your word ‘yes’ be ‘yes,’ and your ‘no’ be ‘no.’ Anything

more than this is from the evil one.  Matthew  5:37

Be honest, upright, and a person of your word...

...Dad started out with "Hey, ol’ bud." Whenever he had something important to say, it seemed like dad used that phrase..."Hey, ol’ bud. You’ve pitched a heckuva game tonight. But I gotta let Kent pitch this last inning. It’s his last game in this league, and I promised him I’d let him pitch a little tonight. He’ll probably never get to pitch in high school ball, so I gotta let him pitch tonight..."

Nobody probably would have remembered that little league no hitter I might have finished that night, but me. No one but me remembers that the first batter Kent faced hit a clean base hit up the middle to break up the no hitter. And, I imagine my dad would’ve loved seeing his son pitch a no hit game that hot Kansas night. But more important to him was keeping his word, his integrity, to Kent. Forty years later, a little league achievement is far, far less important than the major league lesson I took from that night.

Baseball, Apple Pie and Andy...

It seems somewhat fitting that as we celebrate our country’s birthday, we also pause and reflect on the passing of Andy Griffith. Andy, Barney, Aunt Bea, Mayberry... doesn’t get much more Americana than that. 

My kids used to grow weary of me watching old Andy Griffith reruns. Like many of you, I’ve seen every episode, most several times. There was a wholesome goodness about escaping for a half hour to Mayberry, North Carolina that hasn’t really ever been duplicated. Much like the town in which I was raised, in Mayberry everyone knew everyone else. Most importantly, everyone seemed to care about everyone else. I’m afraid that’s a fading aspect from today’s, what’s-in-it-for-me society.

The other day, I had some iced cold bottles of water that I was going to take on a little city exploring with my wife and our granddaughter, who was visiting for the week. As we got ready to leave, I looked out to the curb where my trash cans sat waiting for the garbage collectors to come by. I thought about the heat beating down about 103 degrees and realized those guys out on the trash route could use a cold drink more than I. So, I took an old cooler and set the water out for them, with a sign that read, "Garbage Collectors: Please take all the water." Seemed like a Mayberry-like thing to do...

A few hours later we returned to find the garbage truck had not made it to our house yet. However, someone had stopped and taken the water, the cooler, even my little handmade sign...stealing water left for the trashmen. At the risk of sounding like an old curmudgeon, what’s this world coming to.

Yesterday, a well dressed woman at Walmart was in front of me in line with quite a few items. She was talking on her cellphone and putting her items up on the conveyor belt simultaneously. She was in a world of her own. Somehow, she managed to complete her transaction, load her bags back into her shopping cart, and stay on her phone without ever making eye contact with the cashier. She started to whisk away and I noticed she’d left a bag on the counter. "Excuse me, ma’am," I said, as she continued yammering on the phone, trying to get her attention. In one motion, she whirled around, snatched the bag from my outstretched hand, and went on, never once leaving her phone conversation...

We’re probably all guilty of being a little inconsiderate of others at times. Our world is more and more on a fast pace of self-centeredness, for sure. But as we celebrate the blessings of living freely in our great country this Fourth of July, maybe it would behoove us to grab our fishing poles and walk back down that country road a ways with Andy and Opie.  I might be dreaming a little, but with just a little effort from each of us, perhaps we can recreate our own little slice of Mayberry. Thanks Andy...

A Journey Through the States

During my life, I’ve had the opportunity to visit 34 different States in our wonderful country. A thorough swing through the Northeast would cover a good portion of those I haven’t visited. Oddly, I’ve never been to a directional State, one starting with North, South, or West. I’ve been to California and Washington, but Oregon, sandwiched in between the two, no. From its locale, Oregon might not ever get crossed off the list!

While these are the geographical States that I’ve been to, there have certainly been other states that I’ve dabbled in, and even spent considerable time in, that are not on any map. I bet with a bit of reflection, you’ve been to these states at various times in your life as well.

One morning at work in 2001, my wife phoned and told me someone had just flown an airplane into the World Trade Center. I first found myself in a State of Ignorance, not really knowing for sure exactly what the World Trade Center was, nor what it represented. Before that fateful day, we now know simply as 9/11, I think most of our country lived more in a State of Innocence, not fully realizing the capacity of evil our world was capable of.

Later that fateful morning, I gathered around a television with others, watching in silence at those unbelievable events. I stood in a State of Disbelief as people leapt from the upper floors of the towers before the buildings finally collapsed. I’m certain I traveled through the States of Confusion, Understanding, and Anger, in that order. You might well have had the same travel itinerary...

Several times during my career, I was uprooted from one work location to another. It seemed that each move occurred while my life was residing in a State of Contentment. With each incident, I entered a State of Doubt of whether or not God was truly in control of the situation. But every time, through the vehicle of hindsight, I was delivered to a State of Awareness that He indeed was guiding my life in order to achieve His purpose for me and my family.

In August of 2003, we were vacationing with our grown children, grandchildren, and my in-laws. We’d pulled campers to a favorite campground in Branson, Missouri. Basking in the States of Joy and Happiness all week, we enjoyed swimming, boating, and all the area had to offer.

About three o’clock on our final day there, my mother called and hit me with news that jerked me to a State of Devastation...biopsies had confirmed that the suspicious spots on my father’s chest x-rays were indeed cancerous. Without treatment, he would live about six months...and there really wasn’t a feeling that treatment would do any good. I sat alone in a State of Shock.

Later, I pulled my wife aside and told her the grim news. She immediately led us to a State of Prayer. I asked her not to say anything to the rest of the group. I didn’t want our last night to be spent in the States of Gloom and Despair. Later that evening, I treated my father-in-law to his first ever helicopter ride, and had an especially memorable time on an area thrill ride with our oldest daughter. You might say I was spending time in a State of Denial, but I think it was more a State of Realization of how precious our time with family really is...eight short months later I stood over my dad’s flag-draped casket in the definite States of Loss and Grief.

All too often, I’ve not dwelled in a State of Appreciation for all that has been sacrificed on my behalf. Further, I’ve sinfully lingered at times in a State of Apathy about my salvation, keeping my heart to myself instead of sharing the fullness of the Father’s perpetual State of Grace.

Yes, I’ve had the good fortune to visit a good portion of our great country. But it has been the various States that my heart has traveled through, often despite my efforts to protect it, that have left the deepest impressions in my life. It was during those journeys that God molded and shaped me into the man I am today.

A Father's Power...

A few years ago, I led a men’s group at our local church. The first session, I started the group by asking each man who had been the most influential person in their lives. There were 15 or so men in the group that day and, almost to a man, each one said, "my father." I then asked them to tell us a little about their dads, and why they had named them the must influential in their lives. While each man had a different story to tell, many of the grown men were moved emotionally, some to tears while testifying about their dads.

I could relate to those men that day. My dad’s influence in my life is just as strong now though he passed away over eight years ago. Fathers possess a special quality that can be quite powerful. I hope I’ve had the same impact on my children my dad has had on me. 

Please let me reshare one of my favorite stories from another men’s group I had the privilege of leading many years ago in Louisiana. Eighty-five year old Brother M.C. Kelly told us this story about his dad and the impact he’d had on his life. Nothing I can think of relates the power a father possesses more than this:

"When I was about 10 years old, the little town I grew up in was forming a baseball team. I really wanted to be on that team, but I had no ball glove. I was in the local general store with my father and there was a ball glove in there for $4.00. We were very poor, and it might as well have been $400. My father worked long hours, but we barely had the means to feed our family, and oftentimes, did not. I looked longingly at the glove, but knew better than to ask. 

We left the store and the prospects of trying out for the baseball team were vanishing. Over the course of the next week or so, my father was absent for the evening meal. In fact, I went to bed every night without seeing him, and when I got up early the next day, he was already gone. 

The first night I saw my father again, he walked into the house with a package under his arm. He handed me the package, which I unwrapped to find that $4.00 ball glove inside. You see, my father had been working before and after his regular job, chopping wood and any other odd job he could find for a quarter, a dime, or whatever, because he loved me and wanted me to have that glove..."


Bro. Kelly’s voice trailed off and we looked up to see an 85 year old man openly weeping as he remembered an incredible act of love of a father, 75 years prior....now that’s real power.

Blessing to each of you dads this Father’s Day. Never forget what lasting impact you hold on someone’s life.