Donald

I'm surprised at the response to my post about Donald. Obviously I'm not the only one inspired by his faith and his love for Christ and the church. So, for those who don't attend PCC, I thought I'd post a picture of Donald.

Mentally Challenged or Spiritually Advanced

Every Sunday a mentally challenged man in our church greets me with a smile, a hug (that often includes an unintended head-butt to my ear), and a hand-written personal note. No one is more excited to be at church on Sunday than Donald. If he’s told me once, he’s told me 100 times how honored he is to be a member of PCC. Last Sunday his note said, “To Pastor Steve, I have set a good goal to follow Christ and to bless others and to love others and pray and now I have shown that! I pray for you in Christ to! Love Donald, in Christ also!”

Donald has enjoyed two big moments at PCC. The most recent was when I recognized him for his achievement in last year’s Special Olympics. He wore his ribbons to church. When I mispronounced his last name in the announcement Donald laughed and said, “Oh Pastor Steve!” I asked him to stand and show his ribbons and he did so with glee. The congregation gave him a warm ovation. He loved it. His other big moment came at one of our Wednesday night Communion Dinners. Donald was baptized by Gordon, the PCC member who first brought Donald to church. When Donald came up from the baptismal waters he thrust his arms in the air in victory. The congregation gave him a standing ovation. It was a great moment for Donald. It was a great moment for Gordon. And it was a great moment for PCC.

Donald loves serving. He assists with the collection of the offering on Sunday mornings. He knows the exact moment when it’s time to leave his seat and head to the back of the sanctuary to take his place with the ushers to pass the plates. But that’s not Donald’s primary contribution to his church. He serves best by simply being present and fully engaged. When we sing Donald sings with the most passion and leads the applause to God after every song. When I’m giving the welcome at the beginning of the service or the announcements Donald laughs at my jokes and verbally responds. “Yes Pastor, I’ll be at Communion this Wednesday night!” I always know Donald is with me, paying close attention, when I’m preaching. He answers every rhetorical question out loud, very loud… and I love it! Worship on Sunday is never an obligation for Donald, it is the high-point of his week.

I know pastors shouldn’t have favorites, but I must confess that Donald is one of my favorites. He never takes worship or preaching or fellowship for granted. He truly loves the church with a passion that reminds me of something the apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Ephesians: “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the Church…” (Eph. 5:25). I know the Spirit of Christ is in Donald, because I’ve never met anyone who loved the church like he does. He blesses me every Sunday.

Donald is labeled by society as “mentally challenged”. When he talks I have to listen carefully to understand what he’s saying, and his handwriting is barely legible. I don’t know his IQ score, but his SQ (spiritual quotient) if there was such a thing would be off the charts. Donald is a spiritually advanced man that continues to teach me how to love and appreciate the bride of Christ. I think I will set a good goal to follow Christ and to bless others and to love others and pray. I’m confident in attaining my good goal because the Lord is with me and Donald is praying for me.

Lost

(Written at Laity Lodge Feb 7 during the 2012 Pastors’ Retreat)

Circle Bluff Trail was clearly marked. The crushed stone path that wound through the hillside overlooking the green Frio River was easy enough to follow. The shiny red oval markers made of tin the size of a silver dollar with the hiker symbol were posted on trees at various points just in case one had trouble following the path. “This will be a piece of cake,” I thought as I started my solo journey to Circle Bluff. “I don’t need a guide; I am more than capable of finding my own way.”

Wearing my “driving glasses” so I could see far into the distance I stopped to enjoy the view of the river winding through the valley. A husband and wife in a canoe passed almost directly under the cliff where I stood. She playfully splashed him as they paddled. He wasn’t amused. As I walked I peered through the trees hoping to catch a glimpse of a porcupine or feral hog or fox or bobcat. Nothing. I lost sight of the river as the path continued to climb the hillside. I was surprised to find a downed cedar tree across the trail. It was no trouble hopping over it, but it seemed odd that such a well-kept and oft-used trail would have such an obstacle. Ten minutes later I realized I had veered off the trail and found myself picking my way through very rough, rocky terrain. I was certain I’d pick up the trail again if I forged ahead, so that’s what I did. But it seemed to be taking longer than I anticipated it would to relocate the familiar crushed stone path that had been so easy to follow at the beginning of my journey. I started second guessing myself. “Should I climb up to a higher point or descend the steep hill to intersect the trail?” I wasn’t sure, so I opted for a middle path slightly climbing.

Still no trail. I was lost. Oh, I knew I’d eventually find my way back to the comfort and security of the well-marked and easy to trod trail, but I felt foolish. Perhaps I should have gone with the group and the guide. I didn’t mean to get off the trail. It wasn’t my fault. It just happened. I was simply enjoying the views of the river and looking for wild life and before I knew it I was lost. I was off the path. As it turns out, I really do need a guide.

“He guides me in the paths of righteousness, for his name’s sake.” (Ps. 23:3)

The Sentencing

2/16/12
They made me take my belt off and put it in the plastic dish with my cell phone, wallet, keys, and pocket change before walking through the metal detector. It went off on me anyway, of course, so I got the wand-treatment. Then I made trek up to the 7th floor and found the 147th Court. The sister, mother, and an uncle of the convicted waited a little further down the hall. We were there to provide some measure of moral support for a member of our church who was scheduled to be sentenced for his crime at 2:00pm. The looks on their faces told me they were glad I had come. It’s always good to know somebody cares, even if that someone cannot fix anything. I believe Eugene Peterson is right when he writes in this book The Pastor, “My work is not to fix people. It is to lead people in the worship of God and to lead them in living a holy life.”

We formed a circle and I said a prayer. I asked God for justice, truth, and most of all mercy for the convicted and his family. Then we went into the courtroom. The ex-wife came in after we had taken our seats. She is also a member of the church. She was with her father and another woman that I guessed was an attorney. They sat on the opposite side of the room. After a few minutes I stood and walked across the room to greet her and her father. I gave her a hug and went back to my seat behind the sister of the convicted. “All rise,” the bailiff called out as the judge entered in his black robe and took his seat at the bench. We sat down and waited for the convicted to be
brought in. After a few minutes it was evident that something was amiss. Some kind of glitch in the system had failed to transport the convicted from his prison cell to the courtroom. After a 45 minute delay the deputies showed up with the prisoner in leg shackles.

The proceedings didn’t last long. The prosecutor made her case for a longer sentence. The defense attorney made his case for mercy. Mercy carried the day as the judge opted for the shortest sentence allowable under the law. As the convicted man was led away I edged over to the rail to get as close to him as I could and called out to him, “God be with you brother.” I hugged the family members and that was it. What an incredible privilege it is to be there, just to show up in the moment of a family’s great need. My hope and my prayer is that my presence reminded that family that God was there and God cares. In such moments I’m counting on Christ in me to be more visible and my own self to be much less visible.

My Good Shepherd

My Morning Prayer
Psalm 1:1
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.

I will be content to follow my Shepherd. I will not fear, for He is with me. I will not live a life of discontent because of the things I do not have... but want... as if the LORD is not enough. What more could I want or need than the green pastures and still waters He provides? And when I do yield to the temptation of envy, when I forget His incredible and bountiful provision, He restores my soul. Life is good in the care of my Good Shepherd.

Blog Resurrection

I began this blog 5 years ago when my wife and I made a trip to the Holy Land. I loved describing the places and people and experiences and pictures of that once-in-a-life-time trip. At the conclusion of that wonderful experience in Egypt, Jordan, and Israel I shut down the blog thinking, "I'll have nothing of interest to post now that I'm home and back to the routine of being a pastor." On this raining day (no golf today) I decided to resurrect the blog. I'm not sure where I'm going with it, or if my musings will be of interest to anyone, but here we go. I changed the name of the blog from "Clems in Israel" to "Pville Pastor". Welcome to the resurrection.

Favorites

We've been home a little more than a week now. It feels good to be home, and I love coming back to Pflugerville Community Church, but I do miss the sights and sounds and people of Egypt, Jordan, and Israel. I've only posted a few of the hundreds of photos I took on the trip, so I thought I'd post a few more of my favorites.

I love this view of Jerusalem taken through the west windo of the Dominus Flevit Chapel. The name means "The Lord Wept". The chapel stands where medieval pilrgims indentified a rock as the one on which Jesus sat when he wept over the fate of Jerusalem. The chapel was designed in the shape of a teardrop by Italiean architect Antonio Barluzzi over a 7th century chapel.This is a photo of Sandy and me taken on Mt Sinain by Richard. This has got to be one of my all-time favorite pics of the 2 of us. And for you smart-aleks out there... yes I'm standing on a rock so I look taller than Sandy.

We saw this first century tomb with the stone still intact along the highway when we were traveling, but I cannot remember where. If anyone from the trip remembers the location please let me know. I just thought it looked really cool... especially as we anticipate celebrating Easter.

OK, I'm a little vain, that's me coming out of the Garden Tomb. The empty tomb of Christ is something I can get excited about on Easter. You can keep the bunnies and eggs.