May 2005
Renewal
5/2/2005
1:06:17 PM
Yesterday, church service was
hijacked by the Holy Spirit of God! What an amazing feeling! Everything was
going along innocently enough: patting our hands through muffled "songs of
praise" as we prepared to hear another sermon. Suddenly, we began singing that
song, "Jesus Is The Answer." Just the chorus at first. The Glory of God fell on
us and we sang for thirty minutes or so. That doesn't sound very exciting, but
it is what took place during the singing: Lives changed, people healed, youth
touched, prophesy given, etc... I even had time to deliver a message I was
planning on delivering at a later time. Everything I had come planned to do was
tabled. These sort of services can be scary to a pastor. You have just got to be
comfortable enough to allow God to use His people to minister to one another. We
are feeling so renewed today!
God's Math
5/5/2005 1:01:24 PM
The ones you pour
the most into are the ones who can hurt you the most. It is the irony of
ministry. I have concluded that anything I offer for others is given as unto
God. There are no expectations upon people to repay me money for money, kindness
for kindness, respect for respect. I just give all these things as unto the
Lord. He insists that those things come back to me in multiplications of
blessing!
Risky
Business
5/9/2005
9:28:10 AM
Working with teens is risky business!
This generation of young people reflects its culture, even those in the church.
Adults from previous generations—mine included—would be amazed at the sort of
things these kids do, say, and think when they are alone. If you want true
culture shock, volunteer to be a youth counselor on a trip with your local youth
group. I had one older gentleman who, by all accounts, was as cool as they come
from the generation which included my mom and dad. He considered himself
open-minded and young at heart. I invited him to work as a counselor for a
ministry trip we took one week with some teens. He never complained even though
I could tell on several occasions that he looked exhausted from lack of sleep
and shell-shocked by the volume of both the “teen-talk” and the incessant music
booming through their various devices of torture. I was proud of the way he
seemed to take everything in stride: the practical jokes, the spilled drinks,
the prerequisite jostling and tussling boys must exhibit, the nouveau clothing
styles and aggressive mannerisms girls now display, and the sheer, absolute
waste of time associated with the topics youth enjoy discussing. When the trip
was over and every last kid was deposited, safely and soundly, back home with
their wardens/parents, this kindly gentleman shook my hand and told me that if I
ever asked him to go through that again he would punch me in the mouth. He sort
of chuckled when he said it, but I have never taken that chance—just in
case.
One Moment
Please
5/12/2005
10:58:26 AM
The thing about spiritual storms:
they always last about a moment or two longer than you are prepared to deal with
them on that particular day. At least it is beginning to seem that way to me. I
have a stretch of failures building up here that is beginning to disturb me. I
haven't fallen into sin. It's just that I have allowed myself to get upset,
disgruntled, or disturbed over meaningless things several times over the course
of the last two days. Not to blow my own horn, but I am usually more spiritually
in tune with what is swirling around me each day. Usually, when the winds are
whipping and waves crashing against me I realize I'm simply in a battle and
since God is greater than any enemy, I am going to be just fine. Even as we face
the battle the promise of victory is in God's Word. We are going "through" the
valley of the shadow...yea though we walk "through" the waters, "through" the
fire, "through" the river. That tells me we are going to make it to the other
side of whatever storm comes into our lives. The thing we need to learn is that
sometimes Jesus calms the storm and sometimes he calms us in the storm. Now if I
can just remember that one moment longer...
Patience
5/16/2005 10:11:26
AM
Jas 1:4 But let patience have her perfect
work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.
I
am so far from perfect that I often wonder if it’s even possible to get there
from here. Of course, that road enters the Kingdom only through Christ. In my
weaknesses, I am made strong. With all these weaknesses, I must really be a very
strong guy in Christ. I say that in jest, but the truth of the matter is the
potential to be “perfect” and “entire” rests within each of us. God has
completely provided the wherewithal required to walk through this world lacking
nothing whatsoever. It sits in our spirits like a seed waiting to burst through
its outer shell and climb up towards The Light…The Son. There is one simple
attribute we must display, however, if we are going to witness this process of
becoming “entire” take place in our lives: PATIENCE! The fruit of the spirit
does not just appear on the tiny sprout that just emerged from the seed’s shell.
First comes the stalk, then come the leaves, then come the blossoms, etc. To
obtain love, joy, and peace, one must first come to an understanding of the
fruit called “patience.” Patience must have her perfect work in you or else the
rest of the Kingdom will never have the chance to develop. You must endure the
trials and tribulations, the droughts and floods, before abundant fruit
eventually comes. If you want to lack nothing, learn patience.
Home
5/20/2005
8:01:55 AM
This weekend my brother, Packy
Thompson, will be the guest speaker at Homecoming 2005 at Maranatha Assembly of
God, the church my dad started in his living room almost thirty years ago now.
My dad is buried in a cemetery about a mile from the church he founded and
called home for most of his ministry. I served as pastor there until I took over
in Olla almost three years ago. The entire Thompson clan will be returning to
the scene of the crime: Packy, Stacey, Neil, Mom, and I, along with most of our
various families. A large attendance is expected. There was a large attendance
when I preached Homecoming 2003, having just left to make the Olla church my
home. We love Maranatha, and it will always be special to us for the many years
we labored to birth a work of God in
Remembering Irrelevancies
5/23/2005 12:16:42 PM
What a strange
experience that was yesterday at Homecoming! Listening to my brother preach up a
storm in front of a packed house on Sunday morning was a special treat for me
and the family. Janet, Packy’s talented wife, sang melodiously to the delight of
those present. The praise team from Maranatha did a wonderful job. Three of the
members of the team are former youth of mine while I served at Maranatha. They
have come so far. The homecoming services were truly outstanding! The new pastor
and the members worked so hard to make things nice: They more than exceeded all
expectation. The place looks great. They can be proud; I certainly am proud of
them. More than at any other time I’ve visited since my departure, I felt the
twinge of memories flood over me as I sat there with the congregants. I smiled
at some of the weird thoughts that intruded upon my brother’s sermon in the name
of nostalgia. My emotions tossed from the ridiculous to the serious to the
sublime. I noticed a couple of nails along the back wall on either side of the
opening for the baptistery. It occurred to me that very few, if any, of the
people gathered there had any clue those nails existed, or why I had put them
there. My eyes caught two indentures in the bottom step about the size of my
knees, just to the right of the base of the pulpit, where I had long made
intercession for my church and my family over the years. That very spot is a
place in this world where I connected with God in some of the deepest prayers I
ever uttered. Through teary eyes I looked between my feet, tracing a stain that
perhaps only a trained eye would have discovered, that stretched all the way to
beneath the front row from where I was two rows back. I almost burst into
laughter as I remembered what had caused it. If I told you, you wouldn’t believe
me. Suffice it to say it involved a pitcher of milk, a squirrel, and poison ivy.
I spent most of the service doing that: scanning back and forth with longing
eyes, trying not to remember so many irrelevancies. Thank God most of my
memories of Maranatha are happy ones indeed!
Sunshine On A Cloudy
Day
5/27/2005 9:22:19 AM
It was brought to
our attention that there was a little woman—barely old enough to qualify as
such—who had lost her home in the tornado last year. Since FEMA did not step to
the plate and because of other circumstances, she is still without a permanent
place to live. They are dragging their feet with rebuilding her home as it is.
Her children have already outgrown most of the hand-me-downs people had given
them in the initial outpouring of help in the aftermath of the disaster. Laura
brought the young lady and her children to our local Wal-Mart so that they could
purchase some much needed clothing and shoes. We used money that had been
donated to our church to reach out to people in our community who had suffered
from the terrible storm of last year. Laura described to me the look of delight
in the children as they ran around the store, looking for pretty clothes or
brand new shoes to wear. The mother was filled with gratitude for the generosity
shown to her children. Less than a week ago, I had been called to pray for this
young lady/woman by a member of my congregation who lives just next door in a
trailer where she stays as she awaits the rebuilding of her home. Her situation
is very difficult—compounded by personal circumstances that have erupted since
the tornado. She was beaten down by her burdens, slumped over and drowning in
tears. We prayed for her that night and have shown her love and concern ever
since. When Laura left them yesterday, the mother was just as excited as the
children, little more than a child herself, as they laughed and danced around
that store. When a storm is raging in ones life, just a gleam of sunshine can
make all the difference in the world, restoring our faith, our joy, and our
passion for life.
Perilous
Times And Perilous Men
5/28/2005 8:55:04 PM
I wrote a poem
once called The Pool of Tears. You can read it on my poetry page in Authors Den.
We live in such perilous times. The violent sexual predators that prey on our
children are out of control. The vicious world we live in overwhelms me today as
I read the newspapers and watch the cable news. As a survivor of perilous men in
perilous times, my heart is broken as I consider the plight of so many today:
"Another
tear now drops into this pool;
To
join with those who have this same heartcry:
"Oh God please stop the hand of beasts so cruel,
And let us see the pool of tears run dry!"