Just for a change of pace, I went with a sports blog this week. These ten players came out of nowhere in the draft to make their name with the Falcons.

Anyone who has known me for more than 10 minutes recognizes that I am a crazy fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers. Even my coronavirus mask proves it.

But this wasn’t always the case. In my early life, we got one team every Sunday on our old school Magnavox console TV, and that team was the Atlanta Falcons. And I grew into one of the world’s saddest creatures: a Falcons fan.

I went nuts when the Falcons won their first playoff game against Philadelphia on Christmas Eve, 1978. I watched with my dad as Steve Bartkowski hit Wallace Francis with the game winner, right before we had to leave for church.

Then I died a little when they lost in Dallas in the ’78 playoffs. I died a lot when they lost to the Cowboys again in the ’80 divisional round, in the old Fulton County stadium. For the record, I have hated everything about the Cowboys for the remainder of my life, with the burning passion of 1000 suns.

This is not to mention the loss to the Redskins in the ’91 playoffs and the horror of Super Bowl XXXIII. And especially in the “Super Bowl that will not be named.”

But a post from a new twitter follower (@FatboiSlim_21) about horrible Falcons draft choices (and there are many options to choose) got me thinking. Where did the Falcons find extraordinary value in the draft or unsigned free agents over the years?

Just for fun, here are the best values for the Falcons in their history.

10. William Andrews – Okay, Andrews wasn’t exactly a “steal” in the 3^rd round, which is why he comes in at #10. And I have some serious bias here as he is probably my second-favorite Falcon of all time.

But keep in mind that he was arguably on his way to being one of the greatest—if not the greatest—running backs in history if injuries had not derailed his career. With the bruising style of Jim Brown, speed of Eric Dickerson, hands of a wide receiver, and a 4.6 YPC average, Andrews was surely a steal as a R3 fullback.

And he was about the only player that could convince Steve Bartkowski to throw a pass shorter than a 50-yard bomb. And if you have any questions about Andrews’ greatness, just watch this play.

9. Alfred Jenkins – Again, Jenkins is one of my personal favorites. He spent his first season in the long-defunct World Football League before he signed with Atlanta. As Steve Bartkowski’s favorite target, Jenkins became a highly underrated wide receiver. This followed his career at the football powerhouse known as Morris Brown College.

I remember a story that Jenkins was legally blind but refused to wear glasses because he felt that it forced him to concentrate. That may or may not be true. But without question, Jenkins’ 17.4 YPC average places him among the great steals that the Falcons’ front office ever discovered.

8. Jeff Merrow – As an 11^th round pick in the days of a 12-round draft, Merrow was not the most noteworthy player. Selected in 1975, sacks were not a statistic for the majority of his career.

In spite of this, Merrow was a model of consistency as a defensive end in the 3-4 scheme, where down linemen rarely get sacks. He started over 100 games for the Birds over his 9-year career. That’s exceptional consistency and value for a guy who would be undrafted in the modern era.

7. Grady Jarrett – It may be a little early to place Jarrett on this list. But a 5^th round pick at nose guard who produces 21.5 sacks is exceptional value in the modern era. As a Steeler fan, I surely wish they had selected him to play in the 3-4 scheme. He’s also the son of someone who will appear further up on this list.

 

6. Joel Williams – Once again, I am showing partiality to the 1980 team. After all, I did own a #10 Steve Bartkowski jersey.

Joel Williams had 15.5 sacks that season (unofficial), a record that stood 28 years until John Abraham broke it in 2008. After joining the team in 1979, Williams retired as a Falcon in 1989. Coming from Wisonsin-La Crosse, that’s a pretty solid 11-year career.

5. Rolland Lawrence – The career interceptions leader for the Atlanta Falcons is truly a sad story. After joining the team as an UFA in 1973, Lawrence never missed a game until the end of his career in 1980. He still holds the team’s all-time record with 39 interceptions and made All-Pro in 1977.

In spite of his consistency, Lawrence took the load of the blame for the Falcons’ loss in the 1980 playoffs. After giving up the game winning touchdown on a fluke pass, the front office declared that Lawrence would never play for the Falcons again. And he didn’t—in spite of the fact that the loss was obviously not his fault.

Such a player clearly deserves much more recognition for his role in Falcons’ history.

4. Michael Haynes – As a round 7 draft pick in 1988, Haynes became a serious threat in the Jerry Glanville Run-and-Shoot offense. 47 career touchdowns and a 15.4 YPR average are pretty good for an unknown player out of Northern Arizona.

Haynes was the deep threat needed to allow the wealth of Falcons’ receivers run the short, quick routes that are essential to the Run-and-Shoot system. Although he departed for three seasons with the hated Saints, he came back for one last season to complete his career in Atlanta. That makes him a serious still at pick #166.

3. Jamaal Anderson – How could you ignore the icon of the “Dirty Bird” dance of 1998? The 7^th round pick out of Utah practically hauled the Falcons on his shoulders in 1998, all the way to Super Bowl XXXIII.

Anderson’s career was cut short by injuries, an all too familiar tale for NFL running backs. But what a career it was, amassing 4927 rushing yards in just four full seasons as a starter. Often overlooked is his skill as a receiver, where he amassed a career-high 49 catches in 1996 and 42 in 2000.

With a whopping 437 touches in 1998 (11^th highest all-time), Anderson deserved the MVP award for that season. Once again, like many running backs, he was never the same after that workhorse season. He left the game after ruining his knee in 2001 and has struggled mightily with life after football. Still, few 7^th-rounders ever accomplished what he did during a career.

 

2. Jeff Van Note – It pains me to put Van Note at number two. Offensive linemen are, of course, the smartest and most valuable players on the field. (Anyone want to guess what position I played?).

The Falcons drafted Jeff Van Note as a linebacker from the University of Kentucky in the 11^th round of the 1969 draft. He then moved to offensive line. All he did from that point was start 226 games, make six pro bowls, and receive two all-pro selections. He was the face of the Falcons in the best and the worst of times, an unequivocal team leader for 18 seasons. He never played for any other team.

The only sad part of this tale is that Van Note is not in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, likely because he played in the same era as many of the great centers in history (who often played for better teams). This error will hopefully be corrected while Jeff Van Note is alive to see it.

1. Jessie Tuggle – #1 and #2 couldn’t be much closer here. But by the slightest of margins, Tuggle gets the nod for the Falcons’ greatest steal of a deal. One reason is that he is the father of the #7 name on this list.

The other reasons are plentiful. As an undrafted free agent from Division II Valdosta State, Tuggle too short, too light, and too slow to be a solid middle linebacker in the NFL.

Or so everyone thought.

Ignoring the odds, he became the unquestioned face and leader of the franchise for 14 seasons. He earned three all-pro selections, made the pro bowl five times, and led the Falcons to their first Super Bowl following the 1998 season. He was respected as one of the great overachievers in the league with his uncanny nose for the football and the ability to knock the slobber out of his opponents. He was one of the most respected defenders in the NFL throughout his career.

Jessie Tuggle had chances to move along to more successful franchises, but he chose to make Atlanta his one and only team. Sadly, rumor has it that Tuggle has suffered from concussion-related issues following his career. He long held the NFL record for most fumble recoveries for touchdowns.

Honorable Mention (in no particular order) – Tom Pridemore, Brian Finneran, Robert Garza, Alfred Jackson, Fulton Kuykendall, Travis Hall, Erric Peagram, Devonta Freeman

That’s the list—and feel free to disagree or point out players I may have missed. The Falcons have had some wretched draft picks over the years, but they’ve also found some all-time diamonds in the rough.

Now, if they can just find their way back to some classic uniforms, we might really have something to discuss!

 

Insisting on large gatherings for worship while dealing with COVID-19 shows a lack of faith, and perhaps ignores the Greatest Commandments.

I “grew up” in a rural community known as Camden County, NC.

No, I did not spend my childhood or school years there. The growing pains (and joys) that I experienced came as a very young first-time pastor of a country church. As I have written previously, it was a glorious experience.

If any community is tailor-made for social distancing, it is Camden. On the front of our home in that farming/bedroom town, I had to walk 40 yards to get to our closest across-the-street neighbor. And don’t even think about trying to walk to the back yard (or, back 40) neighbors.

The problem with this type of natural separation is it also makes community gatherings all the more vital. School events are packed to the rafters. Ball fields are crowded with family and friends. Services at Sawyer’s Creek Baptist (our church) are should-to-shoulder—where great grandparents to children worship together. These are the things that make community what it is in many rural regions.

Yet, as important as these gatherings may be, the pastor of Sawyer’s Creek Baptist Church has chosen caution. Rev. Kevin Buzzard is opting for online services and forms of delivering the Gospel message, rather than opting for regular worship gatherings. SCBC is not the most high-tech congregation, but they are using the tools at hand to connect with this close-knit community in a safe and responsible way.

A few pastors in Florida and Pittsburgh could learn from his example.

Many have read the stories of churches holding services or perhaps of pastors being arrested in the midst of this mess. I have a lot of issues with the government interfering in the ministry of the church, but we may save that for another blog.

I am a Christian, and a pastor (albeit the world’s worst). A few pastors choose to hold public worship as an example of faith and fearlessness. Parishioners claim to be “covered by the blood of Jesus” and “claiming Psalm 91” as protection from coronovirus. (Side note: I’m not a fan of the video, just using it as an example).

These folks might need a reminder of someone else who once quoted the power of protection of Psalm 91. It was Satan. He was trying to convince Jesus that God would protect him if he jumped off a steeple.

Having live worship gatherings during a time of international crisis and mounting health concerns/death is not an act of faith and obedience to God’s call. Nor is it a demonstration of God’s power over the forces of this world. It is an act of extreme arrogance, foolishness, and—truth be told—faithlessness.

That may sound harsh and judgmental to you. And you’re absolutely right. I am not judging the intention of these pastors, as I cannot begin to imagine what they are actually thinking. But we can discern the potential outcome of their decisions, and the witness they are providing to the world through them.

There is a reason that I hold to the Biblical description of church as the “Body of Christ.” I firmly believe that Christian community is about embodiment—both the mental, spiritual, and physical presence of Christ in and through one another. The Body is at its best when we GATHER in person as a community.

But that does not mean that God can only work when we gather in a physical place.

Church buildings do not contain God, and they are certainly not the only places where God shows up. Gathering for worship in a sanctuary—or, in modern parlance, a “worship center”—is not the only way for us to be the Body of Christ. Right now, it is probably not even the best way.

Christianity holds an idealized view of Biblical heroes that they just bulled straight ahead in a death-defying charge to share the Gospel. They didn’t. While they certainly did as the Spirit directed them, they acted with wisdom, reluctance, and savvy in carrying out their tasks.

And they certainly did not act in a manner that would put Christ-followers in harm’s way. THEY took the responsibility and whatever punishments might come, while encouraging their followers to use caution in care of one another.

Even Jesus knew when to withdraw from danger, and when to stare it in the face. He waited until the time was right and it was absolutely necessary to confront the ultimate danger.

Why would God call on us to bring people together in willful defiance when such gatherings risk the health and lives of believers—and, worse yet, non-believers? It’s one thing if we choose to take risks ourselves but continuing to gather risks the lives of others.

I am wary of the government getting involved in religion, and vice versa. But this is an extreme circumstance where our best and most powerful witness is to work with civic leaders. Doing so might also save our faith.

From the evidence that I can see, these churches are not gathering to feed the homeless or compile medical supplies or care for homebound senior adults. That might hold legitimate weight if they were taking such actions. They are insisting on getting together for regular worship.

If we truly believe that God is more powerful than COVID-19, then why is God not powerful enough to speak and act and move to gather us over Facebook Live? Why would we ever suggest that we must gather in a certain building on a certain plot of land to experience Holy Ground? If God is watching over us, then certainly the Holy Spirit can work in wonderful ways even through the dangerous power of the internet.

Perhaps pastors are worried that they will appear weak if they do not defy the civil ordinances. But don’t we often cite scripture that tells us God’s strength is found when we feel weak?

Perhaps some pastors fear that, if the online option becomes a “thing” among their people, they will quit coming when services resume. But isn’t that the very heart and spirit of fear that they say they are defying?

I talked with a pastor of a small church in the Pittsburgh area who expressed such concerns. He worried about giving, attendance, and the very future of the church is services stopped. Such worries are much more significant for smaller congregations than for some who continue to violate the law.

After his decidedly traditional, low-tech congregation moved to online services, he then discovered that a lot of people were watching—even people whose shadow never darkened the door of the church. He received comments and questions and compliments from those in the community that he barely knew or never met.

Yes, Christ does not require your defiance in order to be a positive witness to the world. He does expect your faithfulness, and that includes faithfully caring for the well-being of others about yourself.

For a congregation like Sawyer’s Creek, gathering as community is essential. If they can find a way to do that through technology, then surely others can prove faithful by doing the same. Faith tells us that the Spirit will continue to work, even when the rest of the world doesn’t.

Our witness to the world right now will determine how Christianity is viewed after this crisis. Jesus says that the two greatest commandments are to “Love the Lord your God” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.” How we choose to react to this crisis will determine how serious we are about both.

After writing about interactions with Deebo Samuel, it is time to talk about what might have been.

Several weeks ago, I shared my own confession about interacting with Deebo Samuel and the struggling communities from whence he came.

As you might deduce, I have a great deal of regret and remorse about some things during that time of my ministry, particularly my work with African-American students in our community. While confession is good for the soul, it may also be misunderstood. And it does not help to confess without suggesting some better ideas for future reference.

Since I am more than ready to think about anything other than coronavirus (and maybe you are as well), it seems like a good time to address the issue.

Let us begin with this: I did not mean to imply, in any way, that the work we did was worthless or a waste of time!

Some folks from my former church might interpret my words in that way, and that is miles away from my intentions. Dozens—perhaps hundreds—of people at our church worked to make sure ALL students had a great experience at our church. They fought to make sure all were welcomed and treated with love, dignity, and respect.

Let me also offer tremendous gratitude at those who offered words of encouragement and support for me and others who took part in this ministry. Your effort to lift us up is greatly appreciated, and your kindness is beyond deserved.

With all that in mind, the reality is that we still could have done better!

The point of the post was to admit that fact while recognizing that doing my best was not quite good enough. While I would never belittle or demean the efforts of the church or the dedicated volunteers of the program, it is critical to always think of how programs could improve.

At this point, such speculation is rampant “Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda.” However, by thinking about these issues now, maybe it provides some guidance for new ministries in the future. Here are a few things that I would do different in order to better serve the communities where Deebo and others grew up.

Hopefully, these will provide some words of wisdom that will help you avoid some mistakes and regrets of your own, as you seek to create empowering ministries.

1. Fully prepare for the ministry. Good ministry often happens with perspiration and preparation rather than hoping for a random intervention of the Spirit.

Beginning a ministry in a community that is not familiar—be it racially, economically, or religiously diverse from your own—is never easy. Doing it to maximum effectiveness takes this to an entirely unique level. It takes a lot more than just picking kids up on the bus and taking them to the church for a couple of hours a week. No matter how long this might take, invest the time! In the long run, it is worth the wait to do it with tedious preparation.

2. Talk to the community we hoped to reach. We often think that we know what underserved communities need, and we design our ministry around such thinking. But thinking and knowing can be vastly different.

When a predominantly white, middle-class congregation endeavors to minister to a community of color or a culture of poverty, it is too often based on preconceived notions rather than humble engagement. The best of intentions can fall well short if they are not based on relationship and knowledge of a community.

I would highly recommend that churches set up listening sessions (emphasis on LISTENING), focus groups, or other forms of engagement within a particular community BEFORE starting a ministry. This allows the community to be invested and empowered in all aspects of the ministry that you hope to provide.

3. Involve those communities in leading the ministry. This must certainly follow a great investment of time listening and talking with community stakeholders. Parents, relatives, friends, and neighbors surely know the needs of a community better than outsiders. It serves everyone well to make sure they have plenty of seats at the table. It is possible that willing and perfectly capable volunteers can partner with you to create a fully effective community-based ministry.

4. Connect with churches that are not like “our” church. Many of the students that we picked up on our church bus attended a congregation on Sunday mornings. These churches were often smaller or did not have Wednesday programs or children/youth ministries or even full-time ministers.

Yet, I only had two extended conversations with any of these churches in my five years of ministry. It is our responsibility to reach out and make the time to meet the pastors and people of the congregations that are already investing in a community. This opens the door to build partnerships, rather than working in isolation or duplicating ministries. Such an approach is Biblical, ethical, and will surely empower more people.

And finally…

5. Design the ministry around justice and equity. We can deny it all that we want. But underserved communities—particularly communities of color—may have a vastly different view on these subjects.

Rather than trying to dance around the “Elephant in the Room,” why not embrace it and confront it? Such conversations can prove to be difficult and painful, as they require tremendous reflection and self-awareness, especially among young people. But without them, we can never make progress towards the understanding that we need to move forward in uniting communities.

Asking communities to adjust their needs to “our” ministry style is not a sufficient outreach of the Gospel. It is an extension of the traditions and perhaps even the Slaveholder Religion that has permeated southern Christianity for hundreds of years.

We do not need more white churches who dance around the issues of justice and race and equity. Instead, we need churches that recognize these things as the very heart of the Gospel message of Jesus Christ. And we need to partner with communities and congregations that can teach us that.

By bringing these issues to light for ALL of our students, we had the potential to create a level of community and understanding that surpasses the “real world” and moves far closer to the call of the living Christ.

We are not called to be silent or passive or self-serving in our views on race and justice. The historical and Biblical Jesus call on us to speak out with loud voices of confession, repentance, and advocacy. This frees us to live the power of Jesus by serving others, rather than telling people to come and learn our particular method of ministry.

These are not easy things to confess and acknowledge before God, as my own sins and shortcomings have become plain for me to see. I do not say them to as accusation against anyone else other than myself. I remain far too concerned with my own security, salary, and safety to speak with the conviction that Jesus calls us to have. And I will answer before the Lord for this weakness.

My hope in writing this is that other communities will learn from these mistakes. Do not be intentionally antagonistic to your congregation, but do not withdraw when God’s justice and the lives of His children are at stake.

Speak kindly, but with boldness. It is time to put ourselves (and “our” ministries) aside for the greater good of the Gospel. Speak with the Spirit of justice, equality, and love for all people.

Such a Gospel is not an easy one. But it is the true one, and it is a Gospel that can be followed without regret or remorse.

 

I knew Deebo Samuel from the time he was in middle school. His story teaches us that empowerment involves standing with, not just speaking for. 

During Super Bowl Week, people from South Carolina had reason to be excited about the San Francisco 49ers. Their star receiver is a product of the Upstate and the University of South Carolina. Deebo Samuel is making a national name for himself, and he added to it with an outstanding performance in that game.

Some of us are a little bitter that the Niners suddenly forgot about him in the 4th quarter.

My friend Jed Blackwell wrote an excellent article about Deebo’s career and how much he had to overcome to get to this point. High school friends and coaches surrounded him with the support he needed to stay away from the pitfalls of drugs and gun violence that surrounded him. He now uses his notoriety to support causes that seek to curb violence, the kind that persisted in the neighborhoods where he grew up.

All I could think when I was reading the article was how much I should have done to help Deebo, and all the other young men around him. And I didn’t. I did not do nearly enough.

When he was in middle school, Deebo used to attend a youth group at the church where I was the youth minister. He usually came with a whole group of students from school who regularly attended on Wednesday nights.

Let’s be honest, a lot of youth sit through the Bible study to get to the end, so they can hang out or shoot basketball or play video games or eat pizza. That was pretty much the main reason I sat through youth group when I was a student.

Maybe that’s why Deebo attended. But neither I nor the volunteers who led the ministry took enough time to find out why he was there, or what he needed in his life.

We were an all-white church with a large number of African American students attending the youth ministry. Unfortunately, navigating the distinctions among these populations was not easy—even in the place where diversity should be second nature.

Sadly, some people opposed us extending the ministry to these young men and women who lived in our own neighborhood and attended our community school. Some people wanted us to stop reaching out to these young people. The quotes were what you might expect. “Those kids” were too disruptive, and only came to play basketball. They never came to “our church” on Sunday morning. They were distracting my attention away from “our kids.”

Let us not go too far down the road of picking apart the myriad of wrongs in these lines of thinking, or even dig too deeply into the true motives for these comments. That these thoughts are in direct opposition to the teachings of Christ is relatively easy to point out.

Instead, let us give thanks that PLENTY of people from that church took a stand against this kind of thinking and declared our intention to reach out to all people in our community. As loud as the opposition was, the outpouring of support drowned out the noise, especially from the youth themselves. A few of these opponents even had their hearts and minds awakened, so they joined in to help continue a holistic ministry to our community.

What was good and right and holy won out. So why does this feel like a failure on behalf of the people of this community?

Because it’s not enough just to be opposed to racism or speak out against those who would prefer that we close the doors of the church to “those kids.” Making a difference means speaking up for the students who need more than a weekly Bible study to navigate their lives.

Deebo possesses exceptional talent, strength, and resilience. He utilizes that talent to overcome the obstacles that life throws into his path. But why should he, or any other student, face that without the support of his community church? What happens to those students who do not have that talent, strength, or resilience?

What I failed to do was fight for the resources to dig into the needs of students like Deebo. I did not ask nearly enough questions, or spend nearly enough time diving into the issues facing the underserved neighbors that lived right around the church. I was complicit in the racism of some in our church because I did not advocate hard enough to invest more of our time, talent, and treasure to empower those students who needed us the most.

In these uncertain times, we have to do more than just claim, “I’m not racist” to our friends and neighbors. There is a tremendous need for voices to cry out for action and justice as we stand with the vulnerable. There is a tremendous need for us to listen to the cries of those who face the issues that Deebo Samuel faced.

It is not the call of white people or those of privilege to declare what “those people” should do. We are implored to let children like Deebo inform us of what they need in order to overcome the challenges they face. We are called to learn first and offer action based on our newfound knowledge. Such action happens in conjunction with communities of color and economic hardship, not in place of them.

In other words, this is not a statement of regret that I did not act as the “white knight” riding in to save our poor little brown brothers and sisters, incapable of helping themselves. Nor is it an effort to ease my guilt. It is my confession that I did not do nearly enough to help the children in our community. It is a lament that I did not listen, learn, and act in unison with those who struggled so hard against the hardships that life brought to their doorstep.

What a great story we could have presented to the world if we had helped Deebo Samuel overcome his struggles, rather than just “allowing” him to come to church. But it’s not about getting on the Super Bowl pregame hype. What a great story of redemption and the power of Christ we could have offered, if we had done everything possible to help all the youth of our community to escape the dangers and temptations that life presents.

I can only hope that Deebo and his classmates will accept my apology for not doing nearly enough. And my promise to listen and learn in an effort to find out how to be better and do better in the future.

 

If you really want to honor Martin Luther King Jr., don’t just take a day off. Take a day (or days) to read his words.

Our family had the rarest of treats on Saturday, October 12, 2019.

On Friday of that weekend, my daughter and I toured historic civil rights locations in the city of Birmingham. We then met my wife in Atlanta to do the same thing in that city on Saturday. And our tour guide was essentially a living history museum.

Dr. Albert Brinson is nine years younger than Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He grew up right around the corner from the King family, and was a lifelong friend of both ministers, Senior and Junior.

He met us outside the old Ebenezer Baptist Church, on Jackson St. Northeast. He told us about being ordained in that church, by both of those great men. He shared with us the “insider’s deal” on Dr. King’s work and the knowledge that their lives were in danger at almost every moment.

It was a glorious day, and I am eternally grateful that my 19-year old daughter got to experience such an icon of humanity as Dr. Brinson. But with all that he shared on that day, a stark reality haunts me. It is a reality that few of us acknowledge, even as we “celebrate” on every third Monday of January.

We do not know Martin Luther King Jr. For most of us, especially white folk, maybe we never did, or never will. And the further we move away from April 4, 1968, the less understanding we have.

Most of the United States commemorates MLK Day. Perhaps we attend a local event, or participate in some activity of service, or post some nice quotes on social media. In reality, it is likely that we enjoy a long weekend.

Even in the best and most noble of these activities, we really do not get to the heart of Dr. King’s message. Our glorious time with Dr. Brinson brought that home to me. He shared a side of MLK Jr. and his family that most people never have a chance to experience, and there is only one solution to this problem.

Read.

Literacy is the only way we can truly understand and appreciate Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his legacy. We must dig much deeper than the phrase “I have a dream” or our little blurbs on Facebook. The quotes might indeed be excellent. But they are a fraction of what we need to know about the man, his work, his leadership, and his brilliant Christian sacrifice.

Many of us can only have a peripheral understanding of the struggle for Civil Rights and the tremendous personal sacrifice required to undertake that struggle. Reading the Reverend’s words will not put you in his shoes, not by a longshot. But it can get you a lot closer to understanding how those shoes might have felt on his feet.

If you really want to honor and appreciate the teachings and example of this man, then let his words soak into your soul and move your spirit. He is remarkably consistent in his message, and it will not take many readings for that message to become clear.

Be advised that understanding the message does not make the medicine go down any better. White privilege can be a difficult pill to swallow. Active, organized, non-violent resistance is challenging, perhaps life-threatening.  Loving those who hate you is hard. Defeating ideology rather than beating down a person sounds like an impossible ideal.

And finally, King’s message that serving on behalf of justice for others requires “great suffering and sacrifice” is one that we rarely want to hear. Serving through good deeds is nice, but serving sacrificially demands a greater commitment that many of us have never had to make.

We cannot do this simply through nice quotes. It takes more than just collecting canned goods, signing a petition, or filling out a donation pledge. It requires deep commitment and understanding, the kind that Dr. Brinson offered to our family as he provided us a living history of the movement and the King family.

However, that was a rare treat, one that is far too rare in the late days of the lives of those who led the original quest. A time is coming—and is indeed here again—when we will have to decide if we are truly ready to “suffer and sacrifice” for the “dignity of all human personality.” The more we know about how hard it was to fight that battle in 1963, the better prepared we will be to take a stand in 2020.

While I would never discourage anyone from taking a day to serve others above self, understanding how to serve and why we serve is an equally critical and valuable use of your time. Cracking a spine or searching out a PDF of Dr. King’s words and speeches is a vital step in the right direction.

We have plenty of people who enjoy seeing their faces on the news or social media, who will gladly tell us what Dr. King would have said or would have thought if he were here today.

Let’s dispense with the self-serving speculation and guessing, shall we?

Instead, find out what Martin Luther King Jr. actually did, and said, and advocated.

Read.

Learn.

Act.

And do these in the true Spirit that Dr. King advocated as “the only enduring power in the world…”

Agape love.

And if you don’t know what Agape Love means, go back and start at the top of the list.

One final note: Many point out to me that Martin Luther King Jr. sermons and speeches are readily available on YouTube or other outlets, where you can watch and/or hear.

There are few voices in the world that will give a person goosebumps like Dr. King offering a message. However, I strongly recommend reading his speeches and writings! As powerful as his spoken word is, the writings embed his Christian ideals into the heart and mind, while illustrating the brilliant, consistent message of love in Christ that he illuminates.

Suggested Starters

Non-Violence and Racial Justice

Our Struggle

The Power of Non-Violence

Letter from Birmingham City Jail

 

Maybe you’re upset about how many people were not there. But those six people in the pews? They mattered, and so do you.

To the pastor who posted this on Twitter, and all others who feel this pain:

“Today was very hard. I know I am supposed to be above it all as the pastor, but when there are only 6 people in the pews it hurts my feelings when 2 of them are whispering to each other during the whole sermon.”

I think I get it. In fact. pretty sure that I totally get it.

You work all week, study your passage, prepare your text, and get ready to go out there and preach on a Sunday morning. You tell yourself, “It doesn’t matter how many people are here–I’m preaching to the ones that are!” And you step out there to do it.

Then you see it–rows of empty seats, empty pews. You realize that only six people are going to hear any of your hard work, thought, faithful writing and careful editing. Not to mention how much time you spent on additional pastoral duties. You see, I know the deal. If you lead a small congregation, you visit hospitals and home bound folks and answer all the phone calls. You might also type the bulletin, lead the music, fix the sound system, and plunge the toilets if it is required. (And occasionally it is).

So there is no doubt that walking in to see empty seats is gut-wrenching and heart-sinking. And yet you preach. You muster all the heart and soul and call on the power of the Spirit. You deliver the Word and Sacrament with all of the Christ-like conviction you can summon. Even as 33% of the congregants are whispering (or drawing, or looking at their phones), you do what you are called to do. You preach.

(By the way, I suspect that AT LEAST 33% or more of every congregation isn’t paying attention in any church on any given Sunday morning. So, as a percentage, you’re doing fine!).

Sure, you don’t know what the “whisperers” were saying, or why they were whispering. You want to be gracious, understanding, non-judgmental or reactionary. But seeing six people in the pews does not flood you with confidence that their whispers are waxing rhapsodically about your preaching or some salient point that you have drawn from their troubled hearts.

In fact, YOU may be struggling with your own fear about whether there will be enough in the offering plate to pay the bills. And you may be asking, “If this keeps up, how are we going to survive?” Not to mention the question of how you will continue to make a living.

After busting your tail over the past week, you can’t imagine what you could do or how you could work harder or how you could give any more of yourself to turn this around. And maybe, just maybe, you’re wondering if it’s even worth it to keep trying.

Here’s the thing. It is. It absolutely is. And you are just the person to do it.

Be affirmed in all of those thoughts and fears and frustrations, no matter how many people tweet back at you to stop whining or not be judgmental or to be more “pastoral.”  God holds you to a high standard, and you hold yourself to a high standard. But neither God nor you expect Wonder Woman or Superman.

Take a step back, catch your breath, and rest assured that your time was well-spent. You did not have the crowd you wanted, probably not the one you should have, and certainly not the one that needed to hear that meaningful message.  But four people heard it, and maybe even six if two of them were gifted multi-taskers.

Dr. Joseph Moore is my dear friend and former university colleague. He also happens to be a former ministry intern for my father, who served as pastor at East Park Baptist Church in Greenville, SC for 24 years. East Park was dying from the time my father took the pulpit in 1976, and he constantly battled to keep the ministry viable.

Joseph worked with the youth, and only had two students present for a Sunday morning Bible study. My dad stopped by to see how things were going, and Joe the Exasperated Intern apologized because he wasn’t getting more youth to show up. My dad replied, “Hey, those two were here. And they’re just as important as anyone who wasn’t here. And what you did for them was just as important. In fact, it may be MORE important.” (That’s a paraphrase from Dr. Moore).

It is so hard to remember, with the tidal wave of emotions flooding your heart and mind as you preach to empty seats. But your preaching matters. Your preparation matters. The 4-6 people who needed your message–and perhaps much more your presence–on Sunday morning matter. And while they do not matter more than those who were not present, they matter just as much.

As we see our church struggling, it is debilitating to feel that your time and effort are only being heard by a very few. It is even harder to remember that those few are vital, as is your ministry. Jesus went from a congregation of 5000+ to under 11 in less than three years, so you’ve got pretty solid company.

Tons of factors go into whether or not a church experiences physical growth. You could follow all the church consultant advice and pull out all the growth guru stops, but it’s no guarantee that your congregation will grow. What you are doing–working diligently, preaching faithfully to those who are present–is all that is required of you. And it is more than enough.

I know this isn’t necessarily going to help a lot. We’re already to Thursday, and you’ve had four days to second-guess yourself while wondering why you even bother to get ready for this week. Please know that you are absolutely not alone. 99% of those who serve in the church have been/are/will be in this very same place at some point. And please, PLEASE continue to be faithful in your calling, in spite of the pain and struggle.

At least six people in this world depend on it, and they are more than reason enough for you to keep going. As is the power of Christ and the Holy Spirit at work in you, as a minister of Word and Sacrament. Blessings and peace to you as you prepare another outstanding and valuable message for this week.

Grace and peace,

The World’s Worst Pastor

P.S. – I do suggest that you try to be better than me and not get yourself…um…”relieved” of your duties!

Friends sometimes give me a hard time because of the devotion to my alma mater, particularly the football team. But there are multiple reasons behind my madness.

A few weeks ago, I posted on Facebook that I was struggling with my writing. In order to get the brain and the keyboard rolling again, I turn to a subject that I love–Furman football. (Cue “eyeroll” from readers–but bear with me, please!).

On November 23, Allen Edwards strolled to midfield in Paladin Stadium and planted on the Diamond F, fellow Furman captains strolling beside him. They waited for the pregame coin toss, just as he had many times in years past as an All-American player and coach for the purple and white.

Only this stroll is different. This time, Allen “strolled” in a power chair, unable to fully use his right arm and leg. He was always stone silent in pregame, but this silence is different. Allen can no longer speak in full sentences, and forms only a few audible words.

Allen Edwards remains one of the greatest players ever to set foot on a Furman football field. He won Southern Conference Defensive Player of the Year as a nose guard. Furman wisely brought him back as a defensive line coach for almost 10 years. Following that, he went on to coach at Savannah State with his former teammate/coach, Julius Dixon.

But all of that changed with a massive stroke that hit him in 2013. The quiet and serious, yet fun and jovial, former teammate and coach almost lost his life. He now resides in an assisted living facility, supported only by disability, Medicare, and the generosity of those who love him.

If there is a silver lining to this story, it is that Allen’s care is largely supported by former teammates, coaches, and colleagues, many of whom donate beyond their means to meet his needs. These efforts are buoyed by the work of the Furman Football Players’ Association (FFPA) that provides ongoing support in many ways.

People often ask, “Why do you love Furman so much?” I admit, my devotion may go a bit beyond the norm for some (but certainly not all) Furman alums. But there are many reasons behind my madness for all things purple and white. My love for Furman football is first on the list, and the response to Allen’s stroke is a primary reason.

I got hooked on this team and this sport on a cold November night in 1977, after a 31-28 loss to VMI at the old Sirrine Stadium downtown.  Walking out of the stadium, I yelled to one of the players, “Hey, you almost beat ‘em!” He stopped and laughed, reaching down like a giant to shake my first-grade hand before heading to the team bus.

And that was it. I was devoted forever.

The last 40+ years of the program are a success story beyond explanation. In spite of stellar academic standards and rigor, Furman football wins. One of the smallest FCS schools in the nation has 14 Southern Conference championships and the first national title ever for a private school. Allen started at nose guard as a freshman in that 1988 national title game, dominating the All-American center from Georgia Southern into six fumbled snaps.

But his play on the field is not the reason that those who played with him or under him offer their support. They offer it because Furman football creates an atmosphere of devotion and unity that is undeniable.

I had a small part of that in 1989-90, as a walk-on to the team. Much to my regret, I never played in a varsity game and had to leave the program after the 1990 season to take care of my own family. It leaves a hole in my heart that I never got to run down the hill and wear that cherished “F” on the side of my helmet.

What makes this a special program is the fact that no other player or coach ever looked down on me for that fact. Allen Edwards was my friend, although far superior to me as a player. We lifted weights together and ran together. He was the person who introduced me to the FFPA and invited me to join. In spite of the fact that he regularly ran me over in practice, he considered me a part of the team. And he invited me to continue to be a part of it.

That’s what makes Furman a special place. My experience was vastly different from the guys that started and played every down. And yet, they welcome me as one of their own, in spite of the fact that I was just a scout team “hero.”

It’s about Clay Hendrix, Furman’s current head coach, who worked with me and taught me and walked through struggles with me, in spite of the fact that I was just a walk-on. When I was tormented about whether or not to continue with football, he sat down and talked to me about staying with the team as if I was a full-time starter.

Not only that, he turned me into a pretty respectable offensive lineman.

It’s about George Quarles, the current offensive coordinator. Coach Q met my parents and me when I was 15 years old. He also took time to have lunch with my parents, less than a year before my father died, a memory that my mother still carries with gratitude in her heart.

It’s about the guys in the FFPA who used to give me autographs when I was a kid. It drove my parents crazy, but I insisted on getting every player to autograph my program after every home game. I now tailgate with those guys as they give me a little grief about my time as a 9-year old groupie.

It’s about Devin Wynn, who sat next to my mother at a scholarship luncheon last October. She was so impressed with him and his attitude towards her that she follows #22 religiously on Saturdays.

It’s about all the guys who give anywhere from $20 to $20,000 to make sure that their brother, Allen Edwards, has a place to stay and proper medical care.

Finally, it’s about days like November 23, a miserable and rainy one for a game that Furman dominated from start to finish. Some friends ask me why the Paladins even bothered to schedule that game.

The opponent was Point University, an NAIA school out of northwest Georgia. Their head coach is Julius Dixon, a captain on the 1988 national championship team, former assistant coach, and long-time friend of Allen.

“JD” worked with Furman to make the game happen, in order to give his team experience and the Paladins a much needed extra home game. But it went way beyond a football game. He wanted a chance to see Allen, to honor him and recognize the struggle he faces just to meet the day to day challenges of life. All the things we take for granted require great energy and struggle for Allen.

On Friday night before the game, a host of former teammates came by to see Allen at Windsor House, his current residence. He had a terrific time seeing these brothers, but his face lit up like I have never seen when JD walked in the door, carrying a box full of new gear and outfits with the Point University Skyhawks logo emblazoned on them.

Well beyond winning records and championships, this is what makes Furman football mean so much to me. That handshake in 1977 solidified a relationship with players and coaches and fans that has wrapped around me for most of my life. This is a group that sees and hears and responds to the needs of people who choose to be a part of it, well beyond the wins and losses.

November 23 was a great Saturday. Last Saturday? Well, not so much. As I screamed at the television—full of sound and fury, signifying nothing–my beloved Paladins took a beating in the opening round of the FCS playoffs. It was a demoralizing defeat that will leave a bitter taste.

That is, until September 5, 2020. And it is the reason that I will once again post my game day coffee pictures, ready to live or die just a little with every win or loss. I will be right back at a tailgate, waiting for kickoff of opening day.

Allen will be with me, once again supported by those who love him. For him, as he struggles to deal with the most basic tasks of life, he understands that this is all much more than just a game.

And Furman’s understanding of that reality is what makes this program a special part of life.

 

Schools are trying to teach the story of September 11, 2001. But like all historical events, the knowledge cannot touch the real experience.

I was in a middle school classroom in Birmingham, AL on Wednesday afternoon September 11, 2019, observing a wonderful after school program called SpeakFirst. As a part of this session, a young man read aloud his brief paper about what happened on that same day in 2001.

As he read, a young lady in the group said, “WHY do you want to keep reminding us of such a sad and depressing day in history?” I asked her why she did not want to hear about a historical event that was so important to our country.

“We’ve been learning about it all day. But hearing about things like that just makes me really sad and want to cry,” she shared.

It is certainly encouraging that these students are learning vital history, and I consider it a blessing that such events can still bring a heartfelt reaction from this up-and-coming generation. It is also a stark reminder of how far we are from the actual events of a disastrous day in the life of the United States.

No matter how well we teach it, we can never fully impart the flood of emotions that poured over us that day. And it may be decades before anyone can adequately gauge the impact that 9/11 had on the attitudes and actions of the American people during the years that followed.

I was sitting at my desk at Sawyer’s Creek Baptist Church that morning when our office manager, Tina Meiggs, received a call from her oldest daughter. Something had happened to the World Trade Center in New York and we rolled an old TV cart with a set of rabbit ears into the office.

We tried to work and listen to find out what was happening. Then the second plane flew into the South Tower. Minutes later, we watched in absolute shock when that tower collapsed. Then the Pentagon, and then Flight 93.

Then we knew.

Camden County, North Carolina might as well be on the other side of the moon from New York City. The tallest building in our little corner is a grain silo. Most of us did not know a soul anywhere close to the twin towers, yet it felt like we watched one of our neighbor’s homes collapse.

Sitting at home that afternoon, my wife turned to me and said, “For the first time, I am genuinely scared for our country and our safety.” That kind of fear can hardly be described in a history lesson. You only understand it when you live it.

As a pastor, my work and my counseling time suddenly took a drastically different direction. I was confronted with church members and dear friends who just had to talk about what happened. So many of these conversations centered around confusion and disillusionment, as we wondered what to do next. Hardest of all, I fielded numerous questions based on the very primal and natural emotion of fear.

More than questioning God in those early days, most of us battled an overwhelming sense of fear. We debated cancelling the youth trip to Busch Gardens. We talked about changing our plans for mission trips. We pondered how to address the issue in worship without letting the fear of the moment grip us and define us.

As it often does, the fear threatened to drift towards anger, hate, and a great deal of misunderstanding. Students in our church youth group asked how we could possibly love people who would do such things. A teacher in school told them that this was all predicted by Nostradamus, and they asked how a man could know more than God! Some eventually asked if it was true that God was punishing America for abortion and homosexuality.

Deep down, they knew the truth, just as we adults did when the waves of anger and rage and revenge crashed over our souls. When fear takes root, however, it leads to all kinds of conclusions that have little or nothing to do with the gracious truth of a living God.

Every generation has at least one “never forget where I was” moment. The bombing of Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy assassination, the Challenger disaster. 9/11 is certainly on that list and may be THE moment for my generation. But 9/11 is hardly history. Even the most faithful and spiritual need to stay aware of the ongoing challenges it presents.

We lost so much on that day, both the tangible and the intangible. What should truly scare us is the absence of forgiveness and trust, and the very real presence of hatred and ongoing fear. While these are understandable, they are not healthy. And they are not Christian.

In the minds of some people, 9/11 justifies their fear and hate of Muslims and other religions. We may feel compelled to look warily at people of color, foreign languages, immigrants, and anything that ventures outside what we deem to be “regular” Americans. These base emotions drive us to act in our own self-interest and cling to what we have and what we know.

Unfortunately, the ideal of following Christ propels us to move beyond our fear, and well beyond our self-interest. We are given a Spirit of love rather than fear (2 Timothy 1:7). We are encouraged to think of others above ourselves (Philippians 2:3). We are to love our neighbors—all of our neighbors—as ourselves, including those that do not look like/act like/believe like we do (Matthew 22:39-40, Luke 10:27-29).

We know all this. We know these slightly proof-texted verses I cite, probably just a bit less than a Christian knows John 3:16. And we still find this incredibly difficult to follow. I say “we” in the fullest sense of the word here. This is not intended to be some scolding reprimand of others who fear Muslims or immigrants. I battle my bias and fear daily, in the hope that the Spirit of Christ will drive me to overcome those all-to-human reactions.

Next year, the United States is set to lower the number of legal refugees to 18,000, while allegedly allowing cities or states to refuse them. Part of loving our neighbors involves recognizing and empathizing with their struggles. As fearful as 9/11 made us, it pales in comparison to people fleeing the war, violence, religious persecution, disease, or famine that they face in their countries.

If our fear and rage of 18 years ago drives us to clamp down and close our hands to the most vulnerable among us, then the terrorists won with one horrible shot. The answer to terror is not to be terrified. It is to struggle and strive and claw our way towards reacting in faith, against all logical odds.

The hardest lesson to both teach and learn in a post-9/11 world is that we must look intently at our past while acting boldly and faithfully in the future. That young lady in Alabama is correct—the past is sad and hard and brutal, and it can easily cause us to lash out in a rampage of natural human emotion.

But Christ was not defeated by the cross, and certainly not in the rubble of the twin towers. If anything, now is the time to stand more firmly than ever in a Spirit of faith and speak out on behalf of those that Jesus loves, including those who follow other religious traditions.

We cannot love our neighbor as ourselves and tell them that they are not allowed in unless they come to the back door. Christ does not love people from a distance, and we cannot say that we are loving as Jesus first loved us if we push people away.

My hope is that those children who learn about 9/11 will gain the most valuable lesson: that the hard lessons of the past teach us to be better and do better, so that we do not repeat such lessons in the future. I pray that they will always love others, especially those who may not love you back. I pray that they will continue to love and learn to forgive those that do them harm.

May we be the ones who set that example for them. May we all learn to love our enemies, and pray for those who persecute us (Matthew 5:44), particularly in a post-9/11 America.