Today was the last day to add or drop a class for the fall semester. One would think that two weeks into the semester all of the students would have long settled into their course schedule. One would be wrong.
After an early morning premarital counseling session, I slid into work on the computer trying to catch up on some online components to my courses and responding to email. Lots of luck. One former student who graduated five or six years ago called. She wants to do further graduate work and needs to clean up her transcript. “Would you be willing to do a directed study in the course I nearly failed because I didn’t turn in my final assignment? The problem is I need it on my transcript by the end of this year.”
Throw in a couple of simple “add/drop” slips to sign for students who had previously mentioned they might want to change their schedule. Add a Doctor of Ministry student who needed an hour-and-a-half to sort through his problems with scheduling. Then there was the D.Min. applicant who needed assistance registering for his first semester. The only problem being he had not completed his application and he was at work when he called. This was not even in my area of responsibility but the director of the D.Min. was teaching a class, his assistant is new to the job, and the director of admissions was out for the day. I gave my best advice; we’ll see what happens.
The last day to add or drop a class is in theory the day of no return, the day when enrollment is settled. Up to now we have been shoving-off, getting settled. Now the mooring lines have been cast off; we have set sail and for the next three months we will endure some doldrums and survive some stormy weather. Students will be thrilled (maybe), bored (certainly), frustrated (probably), and “furnished for good works” (I pray). I love being the captain of the ship in higher education. Okay, it’s more like a raft on the Ocoee, but I have the whistle.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 7, 2010
JDJ
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
I am Thankful for This Day
Today was a memorable day. Nothing spectacular happened; it was just spectacular in its whole. It was cool in the morning when I put out hay for the horses and cows, and I picked up 9 gallons of apples and pears to feed them. Cheryl, Karisa and I drove over to the Blue Hole in the middle of the day. The water was frigid, the air warm, and the sky glorious. When the crowd of smokers came, we left. After dressing at home we drove Karisa to Chattanooga to catch her shuttle to the Nashville airport. On the way down we stopped at Olive Garden for lupper (Somewhere between lunch and supper). It was good to be together. This evening Cheryl and I watched “Fried Green Tomatoes.” Should I go missing... never mind; enjoy the barbeque.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 6, 2010
JDJ
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 6, 2010
JDJ
Sunday, September 5, 2010
I am Thankful for Another Great Illustration
Wheaton College has not been a bastion of Wesleyan thought since Jonathan Blanchard became President prior to the American Civil War. When we were there in the mid-1970’s it was the flagship of Evangelical higher education with a predominance of Baptistic faculty in the religion department. I think of those great men and women of the faith as Evangelicals-at-large.
When we came to John 17:17-19, Dr. Tenney offered a personal anecdote to explain sanctification. In his New England hometown there was an old abandoned mansion in the heart of town. A wealthy industrialist purchased the house as a wedding present for his daughter. It was “redeemed,” purchased out of its neglected state for the purpose of being re-inhabited, but it wasn’t suitable for anyone to live in. While the couple was away on their honeymoon travels through Europe, the young Tenney observed as workmen came everyday to clean, remodel, and refurbish the old house. The gentleman scholar said it was made to look like new; it was suitable for the newlyweds to occupy; it was “sanctified.”
He continued, “but that wasn’t all. It was clean, but it was empty. Then one day the couple came home and moved into their house. Suddenly the house was full of life. The very reason it had been built, redeemed, and remodeled was now fulfilled. Like that house we must be redeemed, sanctified and filled with the Spirit.”
As a Wesleyan-Pentecostal I rejoiced, and continue to rejoice, in this illustration of my understanding of the order of salvation.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 5, 2010
JDJ
When we came to John 17:17-19, Dr. Tenney offered a personal anecdote to explain sanctification. In his New England hometown there was an old abandoned mansion in the heart of town. A wealthy industrialist purchased the house as a wedding present for his daughter. It was “redeemed,” purchased out of its neglected state for the purpose of being re-inhabited, but it wasn’t suitable for anyone to live in. While the couple was away on their honeymoon travels through Europe, the young Tenney observed as workmen came everyday to clean, remodel, and refurbish the old house. The gentleman scholar said it was made to look like new; it was suitable for the newlyweds to occupy; it was “sanctified.”
He continued, “but that wasn’t all. It was clean, but it was empty. Then one day the couple came home and moved into their house. Suddenly the house was full of life. The very reason it had been built, redeemed, and remodeled was now fulfilled. Like that house we must be redeemed, sanctified and filled with the Spirit.”
As a Wesleyan-Pentecostal I rejoiced, and continue to rejoice, in this illustration of my understanding of the order of salvation.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 5, 2010
JDJ
Saturday, September 4, 2010
I am Thankful for Special People in the Family of God
I am currently team teaching a course, Ministry with Special Needs Children and Their Families, with Marcy Williams Webb. Marcy is the primary teacher; I assist. I recruited Marcy several years ago to help me develop this course. She has a Masters degree from our seminary and a Masters degree in clinical psychology from Wheaton College and she worked for many years at the Church of God Home for Children as a counselor/therapist. She also has a doctorate from the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga.
I was moved to create the course after meeting a family here in Cleveland. The father had been the church clerk of a local congregation for many years. The daughter, not yet twenty, was a severe diabetic who had both legs amputated. The mother had terminal cancer. They had not set foot in a church in over three years. I met them through a member of New Covenant, Brenda Hughes, who met with them weekly for a Bible study and prayer.
They had dropped out of church shortly after the daughter’s surgery. On her first Sunday back in church her father had wheeled her down to the front of the church and parked her to one side, out of the way. She spent her whole life in that church and loved it. For years she had sat on the front row. When they arrived the next Sunday the pastor met them at the front door, drew the father aside and pointed to an area near the rear of the sanctuary where they had prepared a place for the wheelchair. Some members had requested she be placed near the back. They were not comfortable seeing the young woman without legs down front; it interfered with their worship. The family left their home church that day and never returned.
I contrasted their experience with the church of my childhood, a church with an honored place up front for a severely handicapped young woman. In 2008 I wrote about her and so I copy that essay here as a expression of thanksgiving for the church of my childhood.
When I was young Gerri Bethune was the most special person at our church, the Springfield Church of God.
When we got to church early I watched the adults move around greeting one another, hoping they would shake my hand, and waiting for Gerri to arrive. Gerri was different from everyone. She had short dark hair; all the other women had longer hair. Some wore it in a tight bun on the back or top of their heads; some had it piled high on top, and some let it hang down on their shoulders. But Gerri’s was short, barely hanging over her collar.
Gerri was different because she sat in a wheel chair. I could hear the men talking as two of them carried her in her chair up the stairs. Sometimes her father would lift her out of the chair and carry her in his arms, letting someone else carry the chair.
Once she was on the sanctuary level, people began to gather around her. The women would hug her, some giving her a kiss on the cheek. The men would grasp her hand in both of theirs. Slowly her father would roll her down the aisle, people talking as they went.
She was always brought to the front of the sanctuary on the left hand side next to the wall, just below the platform. Before the service began almost everyone would walk down front to say hello to Gerri. She was clearly the most special person in church; everyone wanted to talk with her. Everyone loved her.
When I was very young, I was afraid of Gerri. I believe she had cerebral palsy. Back then I didn’t know those words or what they mean. What I did know was that I could not understand her when she talked. Her words were garbled and she would squeal often. Her hands and arms would move in all directions when she tried to talk. She was different in ways I didn’t understand.
I asked my mother why Gerri was different, and she said she had been dropped on her head when she was a baby. I don’t know if mom didn’t understand cerebral palsy or if she was trying to motivate me to be more careful when I played. I was afraid something would happen and I would become like Gerri. At the same time I wanted everyone to love me the way they loved Gerri.
I now know Gerri was loved deeply because God’s hand was on her. She knew God and she loved deeply. She was happy to see everyone. She was a joyful presence in the house of the Lord. She gave more to the people than they could ever give to her.
I am thankful for the Springfield Church of God. I am thankful for Gerri Bethune. Together they taught me God’s love is not based on how we look or what we can give. God’s love is a work of grace; in God’s presence the greatest gifts often come through the weakest among us. There is a special place for everybody in the family of God.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 4, 2010
JDJ
I was moved to create the course after meeting a family here in Cleveland. The father had been the church clerk of a local congregation for many years. The daughter, not yet twenty, was a severe diabetic who had both legs amputated. The mother had terminal cancer. They had not set foot in a church in over three years. I met them through a member of New Covenant, Brenda Hughes, who met with them weekly for a Bible study and prayer.
They had dropped out of church shortly after the daughter’s surgery. On her first Sunday back in church her father had wheeled her down to the front of the church and parked her to one side, out of the way. She spent her whole life in that church and loved it. For years she had sat on the front row. When they arrived the next Sunday the pastor met them at the front door, drew the father aside and pointed to an area near the rear of the sanctuary where they had prepared a place for the wheelchair. Some members had requested she be placed near the back. They were not comfortable seeing the young woman without legs down front; it interfered with their worship. The family left their home church that day and never returned.
I contrasted their experience with the church of my childhood, a church with an honored place up front for a severely handicapped young woman. In 2008 I wrote about her and so I copy that essay here as a expression of thanksgiving for the church of my childhood.
When I was young Gerri Bethune was the most special person at our church, the Springfield Church of God.
When we got to church early I watched the adults move around greeting one another, hoping they would shake my hand, and waiting for Gerri to arrive. Gerri was different from everyone. She had short dark hair; all the other women had longer hair. Some wore it in a tight bun on the back or top of their heads; some had it piled high on top, and some let it hang down on their shoulders. But Gerri’s was short, barely hanging over her collar.
Gerri was different because she sat in a wheel chair. I could hear the men talking as two of them carried her in her chair up the stairs. Sometimes her father would lift her out of the chair and carry her in his arms, letting someone else carry the chair.
Once she was on the sanctuary level, people began to gather around her. The women would hug her, some giving her a kiss on the cheek. The men would grasp her hand in both of theirs. Slowly her father would roll her down the aisle, people talking as they went.
She was always brought to the front of the sanctuary on the left hand side next to the wall, just below the platform. Before the service began almost everyone would walk down front to say hello to Gerri. She was clearly the most special person in church; everyone wanted to talk with her. Everyone loved her.
When I was very young, I was afraid of Gerri. I believe she had cerebral palsy. Back then I didn’t know those words or what they mean. What I did know was that I could not understand her when she talked. Her words were garbled and she would squeal often. Her hands and arms would move in all directions when she tried to talk. She was different in ways I didn’t understand.
I asked my mother why Gerri was different, and she said she had been dropped on her head when she was a baby. I don’t know if mom didn’t understand cerebral palsy or if she was trying to motivate me to be more careful when I played. I was afraid something would happen and I would become like Gerri. At the same time I wanted everyone to love me the way they loved Gerri.
I now know Gerri was loved deeply because God’s hand was on her. She knew God and she loved deeply. She was happy to see everyone. She was a joyful presence in the house of the Lord. She gave more to the people than they could ever give to her.
I am thankful for the Springfield Church of God. I am thankful for Gerri Bethune. Together they taught me God’s love is not based on how we look or what we can give. God’s love is a work of grace; in God’s presence the greatest gifts often come through the weakest among us. There is a special place for everybody in the family of God.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 4, 2010
JDJ
Friday, September 3, 2010
I am Thankful for Karisa’s Visit
Karisa is visiting with us for the weekend. She is beginning to show and it is adorable to watch her stroke her abdomen as she lounges on the couch. The three of us had a great time sitting in the den and laughing at ourselves, Okay, mostly at Cheryl. In the process I learned Karisa has always wanted an older brother. There’s not much I can do about that now. She gave us some free consultation about some situations we are facing. She is a great psychologist in the making.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 3, 2010
JDJ
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 3, 2010
JDJ
Thursday, September 2, 2010
I am Thankful for a Great Illustration
John Wesley said that a man with an experience is never at the mercy of one who only has an argument.
Dr. Cairns gave little attention to Wesley in his Church History class, less than a full session if I recall correctly. He concluded the brief lecture with a personal anecdote. He began by stating that he was a Baptist and that he did not subscribe to the Wesleyan doctrine of sanctification, or Christian perfection as it is sometimes called. But he did think there was something we needed to know. He had attended Bible college decades earlier on the plains of central Canada. There was a motherly, elderly, Godly, Wesleyan saint who lived in a small house on the campus. She believed in sanctification and she was the one all of the young students turned to when they were homesick or had something they needed to talk about.
Dr. Cairns continued, “I will tell you this, I can’t explain it, but when you put your hand on the gate to enter her yard you could feel the presence of God. You were on holy ground and when she prayed things happened.” That’s the kind of Wesleyan I want to be.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 2, 2010
JDJ
Dr. Cairns gave little attention to Wesley in his Church History class, less than a full session if I recall correctly. He concluded the brief lecture with a personal anecdote. He began by stating that he was a Baptist and that he did not subscribe to the Wesleyan doctrine of sanctification, or Christian perfection as it is sometimes called. But he did think there was something we needed to know. He had attended Bible college decades earlier on the plains of central Canada. There was a motherly, elderly, Godly, Wesleyan saint who lived in a small house on the campus. She believed in sanctification and she was the one all of the young students turned to when they were homesick or had something they needed to talk about.
Dr. Cairns continued, “I will tell you this, I can’t explain it, but when you put your hand on the gate to enter her yard you could feel the presence of God. You were on holy ground and when she prayed things happened.” That’s the kind of Wesleyan I want to be.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 2, 2010
JDJ
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
I am Thankful for Peanut
As everyone knows by now, Karisa is pregnant. She told us shortly after she found out but made us promise to keep the secret. These little surprises in life are always distinct. When Alethea was pregnant with Camdyn I fretted through the entire nine months. It was like reliving Cheryl’s pregnancy with her only worse. There is a lot that can go wrong in a pregnancy. Both as a first time parent and then grandparent I focused on the negative. I braced myself for the possible crises. Everything went well. It was a little stressful with Charlie, but no problems. I can do this father of the mother-to-be thing.
Then there is Karisa. She is our baby having a baby. I had wondered how I would deal with this since she got married or before. I assumed it would be difficult. But when we heard the news my thoughts were “this is Karisa we’re talking about; She can do anything.” I know there is the possibility of complications. I have been a pastor too long, consoled too many couples, to live in denial. I also have my own life experiences.
When Cheryl got pregnant with Karisa I had an assurance from God that she would be born healthy and she would be a girl. I just knew it. I can’t say I have had any words about Peanut. I have had a calm assurance God is at work and His grace is sufficient. I pray often the same prayer I prayed for Alethea and Karisa and all unborn children. “God may this baby be born healthy and whole to grow up to know You and love You and serve You with all of his or her heart.”
Maybe it is my season in life, maybe it is having been through this several times before, maybe it is a special gift of grace, maybe I have extended the Divine assurance about Karisa to Karisa’s baby. I don’t know. What I do know is I have been less stressed with this pregnancy, more relaxed, and just plain happy about it.
I am happy for Karisa and Johnmark. I am happy for my entire family; we all celebrate this child. I am happy about another promise of God’s life-giving presence. In all of this joy I am thankful to the Creator and Sustainer of all for His gift.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 1, 2010
JDJ
Then there is Karisa. She is our baby having a baby. I had wondered how I would deal with this since she got married or before. I assumed it would be difficult. But when we heard the news my thoughts were “this is Karisa we’re talking about; She can do anything.” I know there is the possibility of complications. I have been a pastor too long, consoled too many couples, to live in denial. I also have my own life experiences.
When Cheryl got pregnant with Karisa I had an assurance from God that she would be born healthy and she would be a girl. I just knew it. I can’t say I have had any words about Peanut. I have had a calm assurance God is at work and His grace is sufficient. I pray often the same prayer I prayed for Alethea and Karisa and all unborn children. “God may this baby be born healthy and whole to grow up to know You and love You and serve You with all of his or her heart.”
Maybe it is my season in life, maybe it is having been through this several times before, maybe it is a special gift of grace, maybe I have extended the Divine assurance about Karisa to Karisa’s baby. I don’t know. What I do know is I have been less stressed with this pregnancy, more relaxed, and just plain happy about it.
I am happy for Karisa and Johnmark. I am happy for my entire family; we all celebrate this child. I am happy about another promise of God’s life-giving presence. In all of this joy I am thankful to the Creator and Sustainer of all for His gift.
Cleveland, Tennessee
September 1, 2010
JDJ
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)