GlocalNet

God answers prayers. This week, I was thinking “Lord, I must get my second book finished and to the publisher . . . I must get our church in its new building . . . I must get my sermon finished for Sunday . . . I must get these churches to engage this nation . . . I must help this intern with their church plant . . . I must meet with this person . . . Lord, just give me an extra day.  If I had one more day!  I don’t want to come up short and I want to get it all done!”

What if the seven days were granted by God at the request of people to extend the week an extra day? What if initially there were four-day weeks? You worked three, worshipped and played one. But, several had a hard time getting their work done and they dreamed of just one more day! So God created a fifth day. And, at first, everyone loved it—but, in time, they filled it up so fast that they were once again running like crazy trying to get everything done. So they prayed and asked God for a sixth day. “Oh God, give us that sixth day—if only I had one more day—what could I do!” So God saw that it was good, and created the sixth day. Men could now invent wheels and create fires, not just hunt and gather and count and sell. And, then, something happened—man learned to write and ride horses. Trips took a long time, writing took quiet and undisturbed reason to think through—now people could expand their business. They focused on breeding faster horses, and found that writing with charcoal was quicker than stone tablets and once again man was busy. So, he begged God, “Oh God, could we have a seventh day, if only we had a seventh day we could work, get it all done, and have time to enjoy life and our families.” God granted their request.

Father, this day, help me be focused and disciplined to do excellent work. Help me know when to say no.  And when I say yes, may it be a good and powerful and effective yes.

I was getting on the plane to return home from speaking somewhere and I lucked out. I got on the upgrade list and got to upgrade. I was getting my seat ready—my laptop was ready—books and files in the seat in front of me—I’d work like wild for the next two hours. The guy behind me was talking on his cell phone. It was as if he wanted the whole plane to hear him, or he was trying to talk to Helen Keller! You could hear the conversation. “Make sure they’re there to pick me up, have so and so get me so we can talk while heading to the meeting . . . have the projector set up. . .” What caught my ear, though, was his one phrase, “This will be an exhausting day—traveling—setting-up, for just 10 minutes.”

Isn’t it true, that most of what we do doesn’t take nearly as much time as getting ready for it? We study, prepare, write, organize, etc., and generally it comes down to 10 minutes of something—selling an idea, moving people to action, or organizing something. Big things happen in 10 minutes, or they don’t happen.

God, help me this day to really do well in those ten minutes that I plan. Help me recognize the ten minutes You put in front of me for which I have not planned: When You have me meet someone for some purpose in their life, or my life, that I can’t see at the moment—when someone is hurting and You place them in front of me—when someone is searching and they bump into me—when someone is singing, and it slows me to listen.

Ten minutes—ten thousand years—all the same in Your eyes, God.

I WANT IT ALL! Man I got dreams and most of them aren’t free—but they are all about God and faith so that makes them OK—right? So, if these dreams are from God then I want my fair share now so I can do everything that God needs done so He can be successful—and me too—right? Dream the biggest dream you can so God will have to fulfill it—right? My Mama always told me I was special and Mama don’t lie—right? Wrong. I know your Mama loves you but only your SAT scores tell the truth!

This day, Father, help me dream only Your dreams and use me only as a channel to fulfill what You want done. This day, Father, fill me with the Spirit and make me incredibly sensitive to You to recognize where Your Will begins and ends and where mine kicks in—so I can kick mine off. This day, Father, help me lay down all of “me” on the cross, so all of You can be raised up.

This month, as I focus on what the last year has been and what the next one may be, slay my flesh, pride, arrogance, plans, fear, stress, burdens, impatience, and everything else that will get in the way of what You want. Help me to look only at what You’ve given me and be faithful with that, and not look over at someone else’s ice cream bowl to see who got the most. Help me be more childlike and less childish.

I don’t want to go to Africa—everyone is going there! There’s no real need for me to focus there. Everyone will follow Rick Warren or Bono there—depending on your flavor. I like Africa. I love Kenya. My wife is going to Kenya in December to speak to pastor’s wives. I’ve been to the Serengeti.

I don’t have time to go to Africa—too much going on in other places. Glocalnet guys are in several nations and I’m mentoring and connecting many. It isn’t a priority.

A man wants me to meet a US Senator that has a heart for Africa. I’m learning to say no these days—too much going on. I say “no.” Deep breath—it’s okay to say no. That wasn’t so hard!

A very wealthy man I know in our area wants to meet with me—the same day I say no to the Senator. Out of the blue, he asks me to help with an orphanage he’d like to see in Nigeria. I explain I don’t do Africa. If, in the future, some pastors want to go, I’ll keep it in mind.

A man who works in Nigeria who is a doctor, veterinarian and a classic “nation builder,” without knowing the lingo or concepts, wants to meet me. He happens to be in the States and is the one who would oversee the orphanage. If he’s goofy, a nut, not solid, I won’t do it. I halfway expect him to be. He isn’t! He’s sharp and the real deal! He’s developing a cattle ranch for the people there. He’ll be hard to say no to.

A man who works with orphans in another nation our church works with regularly calls me—we’re partnering on a project. I ask him if he knows about Nigeria. He says, “Sure—35 years ago that was the first place he visited and he’d love to do something there with orphans.” Wow! He says there’s a Senator that lives two houses down from him that has a heart for Africa—you guessed it—the guy I didn’t meet.

OK God. I’m no idiot—I’ll go. The man has paid for my way to go. Another man I helped bring to God is the one who wanted me to meet with the man who wants the orphanage in Africa. I called my friend, “I love you, Andy, but there’s a lot going on, please make sure the guy is serious. I’ll …

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High up in the mountains of North Vietnam people live as they have for a thousand years, or more. Many kinds of Hmong, Dao, Kai, King, and other tribes all wear their ethnic dress and sell their crafts and wares on the streets of Sapa. Ten years ago, I remember only two hotels—the Victoria and the Auberge-— everything else was not there. Now, maybe 2 dozen hotels dot the road in Sapa with 5 more being built. I can check my email in the internet café and rent a Russian jeep to go down in the valleys—or my favorite—ride a motorcycle!  I’m not so skinny of a guy, but I jump on the back and the driver takes me wherever I want. My wife loves it, as well. She loves to ride those motors and trek in the mountains where the villagers live. The Lord has laid on my heart that I need one to minister to motorcycle people in the DFW area, but my wife is quenching the Spirit. Pray, friends, pray!

We go to one particular village—one I went to years ago. I love the place. We trek up the side of one of the mountains and see an old man outside. He’s sitting on a stool with straps freshly cut from a bamboo pole. He evens them out and then begins to weave them back and forth for a basket. He smiles and keeps working. He wears the ethnic black outfit and small black skullcap. His face is wrinkled and worn. His eyes squint even more as he grins. I ask someone how old he is. They say, “80.” Wow! What has this guy seen? That means he was born in 1915. Two world wars, Ho Chi Minh, the French defeated, the American War (as they refer to it). We are not nearly as much in their mind as they are in our American psyche. They fought the Chinese for 1000 years and booted them out. They fought the French for 200 years and booted them out. We were there around 15 years-—not much. But the fact that they were not over-run by the American Military Machine, the greatest the world has ever known, is an issue of pride for them.

I approach this man with awe and wonder wanting to get nuggets of wisdom from him. So I ask him, “What is the greatest thing that …

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I am sitting on a stool overlooking Hanoi in the Melia Hotel. It’s a 20- story high-rise with all the conveniences of Manhattan. I’m working on my second book when I hear someone singing traditional Vietnamese music outside my window! That can’t be. I walk over and open the curtains. It’s a window washer!!! He grins. Five ropes are tied to his contraption. He sits on a little wooden bench with ropes tied to it. He has a sponge and a squeegee. He takes tremendous care in his work. He swings back and forth around the window, first he washes, he dries, he misses a spot, but he goes back and gets it. His work is perfect—flawless—but who the heck is going to inspect it from way up here!!!
He’s barefoot and perfectly content. He’s at home. I think about that Proverbs about dwelling in a house with a brawling woman—he really has escaped! He doesn’t seem fearful, but once you get used to it—what a view! How many Vietnamese get to see the city from way up there like him.
There’s another guy below him—he keeps wringing out his sponge and the water hits the other guy. I think he must be cussing in Vietnamese while my window washer is laughing! I would love to be out there with those guys—my luck I’d start laughing, not pay attention, and kiss the pavement!
Here comes another guy slowly descending and washing the windows to the right of him—he’s whistling—gives me a toothless grin and keeps going. I love the Vietnamese—there’s just something about them. Even the poor have this sense of nobility about them. They walk with their backs straight and their shoulder’s high. They have a belt attached to them in case they fall, but man—how would you ever get back on that stool? It looks confusing—the rope would catch you and hold you, but how would you get down?
Now I can see all four of them. They’re young—must be 20’s to 30’s. One has sandals that say on the thong part, “I love. ” I wonder if he knows what they say? He’s talking up a storm to the young guy. The younger guy beside him seems fearful—I would! Their toes keep balancing them on their chairs as well as serving as guides for them to sway back and forth. I’ve moved to …

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I’m over the pacific and going crazy as you read this.  I’m hyper, but I’m in this chair and sick of sitting here—with no where to go.  By now, my battery for my lap-top is down.  By now, everyone is sleeping.  By now, I’m sick of the movies.  By now, I’m asking God to somehow make me sleep.  Can’t wait to see that city, but man to get there—ain’t no fun.  Sometimes, the best places take a long time to get to.  Once I’m there, I’ll eat Pho, I’ll drink coffee, I’ll walk around the lake, then I get in this sleeper car and head to the mountains.  God, stay near me—long trip ahead.  I never get grouchy, but Dave Small sure does—I’ll stay cheerful just for him (right)!

As I was runnin, I saw a sign—“free kitten!”  Is there any other kind?!!  Garage sales—I hate’em.  It’s all about pawning your junk off on someone else and getting them to pay you for it.  Make it look exciting and wonderful—right!

Last Thursday, my little brother called me on his cell phone very concerned. He lives in central Houston and had been on the road since 8 am and it was now 6 pm. He had less than half a tank of gas in his truck that he was driving and less than half a tank in the car his wife was driving with their two girls. “Bobby, I don’t know what to do.” He had come only about 60 miles north of Houston. I told him to stay calm, keep moving north, I’d figure something out.
I had an idea—I’d fill up a lot of gas containers, put them in my trunk and head to him. I went to Lowe’s and found they only had the one gallon variety left, so I bought 24 of them, used my 5 gallon jug, and two of my neighbors 5 gallon jugs. I filled all of them up. It was kind of embarrassing. I could just see the news, “Local pastor hoards gas!” A little while later, I opened the trunk and was nearly knocked over by the fumes. I was told to drive with my windows down and to keep the trunk cracked where it could ventilate.
Finally, I got Mark on his cell and told him to keep moving north and when he had a third of a tank to call and I’d get to him. At 10:44 pm, he called and said they had a third and he was concerned. I told him I’d get to him. “But you can’t drive south!” “Don’t worry Mark, I’ll intersect you at 59 and 287.” It was an adventure too long to write—stuck in traffic, going down Farmer-Market blacktop roads, but at 3 am, I made it to him. I’d also found gas at a station in Crockett and was able to fill my car before I got to him. When I got to him I told him to keep following me 45 miles I knew where gas was. I was somewhat nervous about opening my trunk with everyone needing gas!
We made it. At 7am, he headed the 30 more miles to Tyler and I headed back to Fort Worth. I began to just pray and I thought, he could have found that gas and made it without me—so what was that really about? Why did God allow that? …

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At our 20th Anniversary, I totally departed from my sermon—which is why I posted it on my blog. I started out about talking about our DNA and what had been passed down to us through Paul, St. Francis, John Freeman and Noah T. Byers, Texas Rangers and church planters extraordinaire from which our church descended!
As I was talking about all of that, six of the seven most significant women in my life were in that service and I had each one stand and thank them for what they had brought to the table for me and our church.
Carol Childress — one of the smartest researchers I’ve ever known who has worked with Leadership Network and the Baptist Convention early on watched out for me like a big sister. She would introduce me to people she thought I should know and inform me about things that mattered in the ministry that I should be thinking about and giving attention to. She was a gatekeeper for me and the ministry at NorthWood. It was because of her I met Rick Warren and Thom Wolfe and lots of other people who have massively shaped my life.
Carol Davis — the first person to help NorthWood understand missions and how it should be seamless in the church. She defined and has continued to model “glocal ” for me. Over the years, and most of the time for nothing especially when we used to be so broke, Carol would fly out and help us with our children’s ministry, small group ministry, and especially our missions ministry. I quote her often.
Linda Stanley — works with Leadership Network and has been a part of a learning community NorthWood and I have been a part of. Because of her, Bob Buford and Leadership Network, they helped us move from planting a couple of churches a year to ten a year in addition to the establishment of GlocalNet.
Johnnie Morgan — what an incredible blessing to NorthWood and to me personally. I come in like a whirlwind with 3000 things going on and she has the ability to stay calm, focused, and keep me and all that’s going on prioritized. She loves God and reminds my children of my mother. They’re both Mississippi women—and class acts.
Jill Roberts—my daughter. She loves God and has continued to walk with him consistently. …

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