Lessons from Lufkin

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you. (Paul, Philippians 1:3)

I first preached at Lufkin’s First Baptist Church in March, 2005, merely to fill the pulpit (or so I thought) while the good folks of the church scrambled to set things in order following the sudden and unexpected departure of their pastor. Some fifteen months, sixty-five sermons and a mere 11,550 miles later, I have new friends-for-life and a heart full of memories from my interim pastorate with the sweet, southern folks of Lufkin’s FBC, not to mention some great lessons learned. Well, maybe some of things I “learned” I already knew, but I certainly value the reinforcement.

What follows is not an exhaustive list, by any means, but some of the most important lessons from Lufkin.

10. In driving to east Texas, one must needs go through Crockett. Well, technically it’s not “must needs,” but just about. I’ve actually proven five different routes to take from Waco to Lufkin, all of which require the same basic window of time (within eight to ten minutes variance), and only one of the routes, the longest, does not traverse through Crockett, Texas.

Further, (it’s real important to know this) Crockett has both an inner (official) and an outer (unofficial) loop. I routinely tried to break up the monotony of my trips to and from Lufkin by attempting to discover new routes, and especially without going through Crockett. On one particular return trip I steadfastly traveled in a general, westward fashion, only to keep finding mileage signs that read “Crockett 27 miles.” After the third one of these within an hour, I finally gave up, turned north and drove the twenty-seven miles to Crockett where I took the inner loop (which is actually on the map).

9. All people need a good laugh on occasion, even church people. Maybe I should say, “especially church people.” Now, not all church people like the fact that they need a good laugh, and those that don’t like the idea might even argue with you about it, but they are probably the same people who need that laugh as much as, if not more than, anyone else. So, we laughed a lot at Lufkin’s First Baptist Church. It was the good kind of laughter, too. The kind that makes your sides hurt for a while, but later makes you feel totally relaxed, sated.

8. Hungry people will eat almost anything, even a rap. No, I didn’t misspell “wrap.” I’m not talking about that rolled up entrée you order at the drive-thru so you don’t feel guilty. I’m talking about a kind of music (well, maybe it’s not music) called rap. That’s right. I got away with playing a rap cd at Lufkin’s First Baptist Church. In the sanctuary. During a Sunday morning worship service. As the offertory music!

Honestly, it was one of the longest four minutes and thirty-eight seconds of my life, but we all hung in there, and God drove the point home. We were studying about worship and how God is more interested in the substance rather than the style of our worship, and to demonstrate this I used a different style of worship music each week of the series. I saved the rap for the last Sunday of the series, and by that time, we had become so enthused about the spiritual nourishment we were receiving from God’s Word the rap didn’t taste like a wrap at all. We could even understand the words (the substance), which were enthusiastically evangelistic, and when the rap was finished, one older gentleman said, “Amen!” This, of course, made us laugh. (see number nine above).

7. God still works through a coat and tie. When I came on the scene in Lufkin, I wore a suit and tie even though I hadn’t worn one routinely on Sunday mornings in more than eight years. I suppose I could claim I was trying to follow Paul’s admonition to be “all things to all people” or de Cervantes’ “when in Rome…,” but I simply saw it as the thing to do just like wearing business casual had become the thing to do when I pastored my previous church. Before my work in Lufkin finished, there were a few Sundays when most of the younger men and I wore a sport’s coat without tie or left the coat off all together, but most Sundays I still “suited up.” Suit and tie, though remaining uncomfortable and generally unnecessary, still serve as useful elements of credibility and listenership with certain segments of God’s people, and thus, can be worth the trouble.

6. God can and will use His servant in situations that don’t seem to fit. I’m not saying I’m on the same tier as Apostles Peter and Paul, but I do have something in common with them—God used me with a group of people I wouldn’t normally be seen to fit in with very well. God called and used Peter, a gentile, to minister to Jews. He used Paul, a Jew, to reach gentiles. And, He used me to minister and meet the needs of a very historic, traditional, conventional, highly polished, downtown First Baptist Church (in this case, Lufkin’s). Believe me when I say, “Uh, that don’t fit.” I grew up in an “FBC,” and I served one in an earlier ministry stint, but neither of them fit the traditional, conventional, spit and polish mold. My friends and family will tell you, neither do I, but God isn’t limited by any of that. He used me for His purposes with His people in spite of the fit (or lack thereof).

5. God’s people are impossible to out give. Not only did Lufkin’s FBC eagerly compensate my ministry for its services, but they continually lavished gifts upon my family and me. I never, not even once, paid for my own meal. I weekly received cards and notes of affirmation and thankfulness for my ministry. I played numerous rounds of free golf at one of Texas’ plushest golf courses, Crown Colony, and my family and I were even treated to two round trips to Lufkin via one family’s private jet, which shortened a three-hour drive into a mere thirty minutes.

I’ve never written so many thank you notes in my life, and I know that those notes fail to express the deep sense of gratitude I have for a group of people that just seemed to be unable to help themselves when it came to giving to me.

4. Being the expendable variable can be a good thing. As the interim pastor, even as one so accepted and loved as the one I became at Lufkin’s FBC, I was still the one who would come in and go out in a matter of months. I was expendable. They could either embrace or endure me, and I now believe that to be a very strategic position in which God can use a “temp.”

After I had spent the first two to three months rallying their trust in the pulpit, I was free to tell them just about anything and everything the Lord lay on my heart--even the hard stuff. I often prefaced the most difficult subjects with the disclaimer that if they didn’t want to hear what needed to be said, they should just “entertain” it for a while, because soon I’d be headed back to Waco for good. (Did I mention we laughed a lot?) This approach seemed to encourage them to lower their defenses, and one of the most common expressions of appreciation I received was about my willingness to talk about the stuff they wouldn’t normally want to hear.

Without a doubt, I had more freedom, or at least felt like I did, to say more about the tough subjects of church life than when I was the “permanent” pastor of a church. It’s amazing what a little expendability will do for the need of the hour.

3. It is impossible to fathom the depth of opportunity a situation holds by observing its mere earthly characteristics. I’ve stood at the edge of Jacob’s Well in Wimberley, long believed to be the longest underwater cave in Texas, and wondered just how deep it goes. Even world-class divers have yet to find its bottom, and I certainly could never comprehend its depths by mere observation from the surface. Truly, it remains unfathomable.

I never imagined the depth of opportunity awaiting me at Lufkin’s FBC, though I checked every earthly factor possible before I dove in. It’s simple really. The things of earth and even the most thorough consideration of them cannot justly project the limitless wonders God has in store for us ahead of time. We cannot possibly predict them. They are, indeed, fathomless.

2. Husbands should listen to their wives more often. I almost never preached that first time in Lufkin. I nearly declined the invitation. I was initially going with my gut feeling about the situation--it was a downtown First Baptist Church (see number six above), and it was the first Sunday of the local school district’s Spring Break, which would make the crowd lighter than usual (my “gut” isn’t very spiritual sometimes). I almost said, “Thanks. No,” but then I talked with Valerie about it.

In twenty-three years of marriage I’ve learned that God often uses Val to overcome my tendency to mess things up. When I told Val about the invitation and my inclination to decline, she simply said, “I don’t know, Hon, I’m thinking it might really lead to a great opportunity with this church or open a door we don’t see yet.” So, I told them “yes," and I’m so glad I listened to my wife. Thanks Babe.

1. Our “Yes” brings God’s best! This is a truth I’ve preached, told, taught, and trusted for years, and yet, God has graciously taught it to me again. As I said, this lesson started in early 2005 when I talked by phone with a sweet, sophisticated East Texas lady who had gotten my name from some folks she knew that knew some folks that knew me. As I thought and prayed about it I couldn’t put my finger on the “why” and deep down couldn’t quit wrestling with the issue that whatever “rekindling” might take place through one sermon certainly would be diminished by the probability that most of those needing rekindling would be gone on Spring Break trips anyway.

As expected the Spring Break Sunday was pretty slim in attendance (even the lady who invited me and a majority of her pulpit supply committee were absent), and I was reminded about how uncomfortable preaching in a suit and tie can be. But something clicked. I was invited back for a Sunday in April, and then the leadership of the church invited me to become their interim pastor.

Soon, the three hour drive (one way) became old hack, and the months passed like minutes until the church found God’s man for their pastorate. He started Father’s Day.

I look back now and see myself considering whether or not to accept the initial invitation to fill the pulpit, and imagine God thinking, “Come on, buddy. Say yes. I can’t show you ahead of time all of the blessings I want to pour out on you through this opportunity, but if you’ll just trust me and do it, I’ll give you an experience of a life-time. Come on….thataboy!”

I cringe when I consider what all I would have missed if I hadn’t said “yes.” It’s painful to even think about it. I’m so glad I said “yes.” It brought God’s best.

I’m confident about this: He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. (Paul, Philippians 1:6)

Copyright ReKindle Ministries 2006