But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect. – I Peter 3:15 NIV I ducked into a small coffeeshop one cold, wet morning in northern China. As I sipped my
This is the second article in a series of articles Maxie is writing about the beliefs of evangelism. Click here for the first article. For most of my ministry life, over 70 years, my calling has been expressed as a pastor in a local congregation. Evangelism is a matter of the Christian community sharing the good news of a Savior
Scripture Focus: Jesus was in Bethany in the house of Simon the leper; he was at dinner when a woman came in with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment, pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the ointment on his head. Some who were there said to one another indignantly, “Why this waste of ointment? Ointment like this
I’m 89 years old. I received what was called a “local preacher’s license” when I was 17. During these 72 years since, though the expression of my calling at times has differed, I have sought to be an effective pastor and preacher. I have kept two “heroes” alive in memory as I have exercised my calling. One of those is
For over a year, we have been renovating my grandparents’ house which was built in 1943. We replaced windows, electrical and plumbing. Progress was visible as the house came into form, yet all the while, lurking underneath, problems were brewing. Confession is good for the soul, and mine is that we should have inspected and addressed the foundation first. As
Christians are “little Christs.” Being Christian is being Christ in the world. What Christ has been and done for us, as Christians we must be and do for the others. We must live as Christ in our daily relationships. If my expression, “little Christ,” is new to you, maybe even a bit troubling, I remind you that Martin Luther was
I’m Sorry I Didn’t Make Disciples Sooner I come to you today with a confession: I failed to take seriously the command of Jesus to make Disciples. For too long, in my three decades of ministry, I ignored the simple and direct command of Scripture to make disciples who will make disciples. It wasn’t on purpose. I thought I was
Someone has defined a saint as “one in whom Christ is felt to live again.” That really is a definition of any of us who would be truly and fully Christian. The whole meaning of living the Christian life is continuing the life of Christ, replicating that life in the world. This happens through the power of the Holy Spirit
Often, when I’m teaching the Christian faith, I ask people to name one person who best communicates the meaning of the Christian faith and way. One of the persons that is most mentioned is Mother Teresa. I have probably read as much of what others have written about her and her own writing, as I have about any other “hero
Scripture focus: The truth is, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father. You can ask for anything in my name, and I will do it, because the work of the Son brings glory to the Father. Yes, ask anything in my
I know that issues are more complex than these assertions, but I’m weary of excusing ourselves because the issue is so complex. Education is clearly a justice/mercy issue. That’s the reason why our church in Memphis has made a missional commitment to doing justice in relation to education.
Preaching has always been a lively communal dialogue between the preacher, God and the congregants within the Black Church tradition; however, technology and social media have invaded this dialogue for Black Millennials. Their idea of interactive preaching goes beyond the “preacher, music and frenzy” that W.E.B. DuBois refers to Black Millennials want church as they know it to reach beyond
While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself.
Our youngest, Duke, was one of these tender branches grafted into the faith that had been nurtured in him from birth.
Duke took the oath he was making seriously.
A week prior our son wrestled with whether or not he was actually ready to make such a hefty proclamation. His reservation? An unanswered (and I would add unanswerable) question that
Do you remember standing tall and straight against a door jamb etched with pencil markings as a child? Was there a spot in the family home marking years of growth? Perhaps you had a growth chart, able to be folded away and moved as you relocated. If measuring height was part of your childhood, you’ll know that feeling in your
So, why do we make this annual trek to mark Jeremy’s birth, death, Christmas, Easter and other special occasions? I guess somehow in the ritual of the rhythm of returning to the grave we find comfort as we remember. We seek closure. We find consistency. We seek to make sense out of a situation that otherwise makes little to no
But here at the site of the empty tomb is our leap beyond lip service. When we take up the mantle from Mary and open our mouth to the truth. There is something bursting below the surface. A little seed of germination. This is Easter…we are the outliers who believe that despite all the impossibility of being raised from death
Now that light has dawned, one cannot simply stand and look at a symbol of defeat and the past. New life has broken in and we are not allowed to just look; we are invited and commissioned to go and tell.
It seems, then, that God would not want anything bad to happen in the world, and he certainly has the power to stop them from happening. Yet bad things—unimaginably horrific things—happen every day. Over many centuries, philosophers and theologians have attempted to solve this problem by explaining why God would choose to create a world like ours, where humans
Today is April 16. Every year I write something in memory of my Mama Sarah and in honor of my mom, Maxine Stoddard. On this day 37 years ago, my Mama Sarah was murdered by my biological father; at that point, many lives were forever changed. She was murdered on my mom’s birthday (April 16) and buried on mine (April 18). You can read
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