Lamenting Pluto's Demotion

For all of you, who like me, pull for the small guy, this is truly a sad day. Pluto has lost planet status. For everyone who cheered Charlie Brown on to victory, lamented Beetle Bailey's eternal consignment to PFC, or even attended at UTC football game in hopes of a victory; this is just another burden we must bear. Bigger is not always better. Better is better. How can you strip a planet of it's status after all these years. How will Pluto face the other planets now as their paths draw within light years of one another in their eliptical orbits around the sun. I may be able to relate more than most with this recently "de-frocked" planet.

I was once the pastor of the smallest church in Chattanooga. There were weeks where my family and one or two others were the only people present at Wednesday night Bible study. There were Sundays when our entire attendance was smaller than the average adult Sunday School class in the church down the street. But we were a group of believers that knew God could use us for His purposes no matter what our size. Bigger is not better. Better is better. We challenged each other to reach our community in positive ways, place Biblical authority over tradition, establish and live by an overall vision satement "we exist to be a beacon of hope." And slowly but surely, we began to grow. It seemed God was all over this place called Dallas Bay. After a couple of years we were still small, but we weren't the smallest. Some of the same pastors that I had turned to when I was discouraged were now coming to me to ask the secret of our expanding ministry. My answer then is the same answer I give today; A church is a living thing. Living things need to be healthy to grow, so don't emphasize growth, nurture the health of your church and growth will come.

I met with some pastors just yesterday. I suppose if we used the same criteria that "all-knowing" scientists used to strip Pluto of planet status we would have to assign another name to their small churches as well. Maybe "near-churches" or "want-to-be" churches or "mini" churches would be appropriate. These guys have a burning desire to reach this culture for Christ and they're willing to start small. Small churches aren't bad, only small dreams. So hang in there Plutonians, we will rise again. And someday Charlie Brown will kick that football, and Beetle will rise in the ranks, and the Mocs will prevail, someday. Until then, keep dreaming big, because we serve a big God.
In His Shadow,
Pastor Ken

Sitting Among the Rubble

I am not supposed to be here. Sitting in my living room, that is. It is still the living room, but it's not my living room. We closed on another home and sold this one yesterday. So technically, this is my former living room. It only remotely resembles it's glorious past. When we first moved in 7 years ago, it was adorned with new furnitute and accessories. It was pristine and clean. Now, I'm sitting among the rubble. There is a blue Rubbermaid container sans the lid, a pile of discared clothing, two empty bookcases, two occassional chairs, and a half empty diet softdrink from last night masquerading as living room furniture. We were supposed to have met the movers here last night and moved well into the night. When they called early yesterday and confessed they had over-booked and we were low on their priority list, we were told our move would be delayed for two days. The problem is we had just given almost everything we own to a local mission organization. There are no couches, loveseats, end-tables or ottomans. There is no way to wash clothing because we gave them our washer/dryer as well. There is no dining room furniture and even the breakfast nook is empty. Now with the walls bare and the floor uncluttered you can see the battle damage of raising two teenage boys in a confined space. Adam was 13 and Andy was 8 when we moved here. They have left their mark.

So the movers are coming to get us tomorrow morning. The new refrigerator will be delivered in two weeks along with the new agitatorless washing machine. We bought new living room furniture, promised delivery: Friday. So out with the old and in with the new. That's why I am sitting here alone among the rubble. Thinking of the few material things left and all that has gone. I am pondering my emotions. Call me heartless and cold, but I really feel no regret. All the things destined for some family somewhere going through a temporary setback leaves me with no sadness. Just a hope that our meager gift can help our fellow man. In a similar way, the thoughts of new furnishings, and even a new house, elicits very little emotion in me either. That's saying something for someone who grew up as poor as I did. Could it be that I have finally learned that things are just that. Things! Inanimate objects that neither receive or give love. No matter how expensive the thing, it is still just that, wood and hay and stubble. (You who are acquainted with your Bible will understand that one.) So sitting here among the rubble I am reminded what is most important. My relationship with my Lord, my family, and my friends is the only thing worth preserving. Solomon determined that the pursuit of happiness that runs in any other direction is just "pursuing the wind." MY home is not here. It is not at the new house either. Sitting here it is exceedingly clear that there is only one place that will ever totally satisfy my soul. Until then, we are all just sitting among the rubble.
In His Shadow,
Pastor Ken

Your Brother and Sister Have Jobs

It is here again, back to school. I was reminded this morning as I had to make a U-Turn to get out of the traffic backed up at the local high school for registration. It doesn't make a huge difference at the Duggan household since we have home-schooled for years. Where I feel the most impact is at church. Now that people are filling backpacks instead of picnic baskets families will be coming back to church in droves. The work load picks up too. I love it!

The increase in activities and the increase in crowds are all signs of a healthy and growing community of faith. It also makes life just a little more hairy. You see most people only see me on Sunday morning. I think a lot of people imagine I just show up for a couple of hours on Sunday, do my job, shake a few hands, smile a lot and go home only to show up and do it again next Sunday. I'll never forget a few years ago when a lady remarked to my wife how lucky Marilyn was to be married to a man who was payed a full time salary who only had to work 2 hours a week! I was really proud of my wife's restraint. She took a deep breath, smiled, and began to recite a typical week's activities for a pastor and his family. The lady was actually surprised to find out that it is a 24/7 job. I don't blame that lady for not knowing. You wouldn't know the pace of life in a growing church unless you have ever been a part. I am not complaining. I love what I do. I can't imagine doing anything else. I am one of those fortunate few who make a living doing what they would do for free. (Don't tell that to any member of the finance committee, please.) The only reason I brought the subject up at all is the phone call I received yesterday from my mother. She needs to be driven to an appointment today and she doesn't own a car. I am happy to help, but it was the way she asked that made me laugh. She said, "You know I hate to ask on such short notice, but your brother and sister have jobs and they couldn't take me. Could you pick me up at 2:15?"

Oh well, it meant cancelling my tee time, rescheduling my massage, telling the boys down at the yacht club "some other day" but I squeezed her in. At least I don't have to work again until Sunday morning when I write the notes to my sermon on the back of a napkin on the way to church. I can't believe I get away with this!
In His Shadow,
Pastor Ken