Whether you find yourself in a big church or a small church, Sunday mornings are hectic for every staff member. It is an important day, and they have important tasks to complete on this special day in order to serve you and help you worship. We too want to serve and bless them, particularly on this day – and here’s a few ways we can all do this.

1. Pray
Our staff needs our prayers each and every day. They spend hours upon hours laboring on things beyond the worship service. Counseling, calling, planning, and visiting are just a few of the tasks that the staff has the pleasure of doing. But these things require those long hours of hard labor both physically and spiritually. The devil is always lurking and trying to bring them down. It is easy to be discouraged. We must lift them up in our prayers, particularly on Sunday mornings as they fulfill a great number of important tasks, and it is easy to get distracted. Pray for wisdom, for encouragement, and for them to continue to preach and sing the gospel.

2. Perceive and Discern When Best to Have A Long Conversation
We all love talking with our staff. And they want to talk to us as well. But if it’s not an emergency on Sunday morning, we may want to wait on the longer conversation that we need to have with them for another day. We can bless and serve them by calling later. This will help them stay focused on the many tasks that they have on Sunday morning and be able to help everyone worship. Worship on Sunday mornings requires intense preparation spiritually, mentally, and relationally. We have an opportunity to serve them in a great way by not taking them off their course Sunday morning.

3. Put It In Writing
We all can get lost in the busyness, including staff members. If we mention something to a staff member on a Sunday morning, we can help them remember by putting it in writing. We can jot down a note and hand it to them on Sunday morning, use of the tear-off portion of the bulletin to give information, or jump on our computers and fire an email reminding them of what we said. The staff will be able to more effectively serve us if we put it in writing so they can be reminded the next day.

4. Be Pro-Active in setting up meetings
Sunday is a great day to see the staff and connect. Although staff is busy on Sunday because of the many tasks they have to complete, the rest of the week is perfect for getting together for longer conversations. We should be pro-active in setting up those meetings. Sunday mornings are a difficult time for the staff to set up meeting times in the midst of their important tasks in worship. We you can help, bless, and serve them by calling Monday morning and setting up that conversation we’ve been needing to have. The staff wants to serve us in the best way possible, and not to simply give us half their time on Sunday morning.

5. Punctuality: Be on time.
We all know it’s tough getting to church on time. But we have our kids in school on time and arrive at work on time (well, we should!). In other words, we all know it’s not impossible. To minimize distractions during worship, we should do our best to arrive on time. This will bless not only the staff, but all of us as well. Worship is difficult when our minds are in a million places. Arriving earlier allows us time settle our souls and prepare to worship God through both the singing and preaching. Maybe that means going to bed earlier the night before, or waking up earlier on Sunday morning. We can’t allow excuses to hinder worship. We need to make a game plan for how to arrive early, enact that game plan, and keep trying. It will pay dividends!

I’ve already posted this article before in different locations, but have gotten the incredible opportunity to enter a writing arena I’ve never been before: a blog specifically directed towards girls. I know, I know, doesn’t sound very manly. But I have been so encouraged by Nancy Leigh DeMoss, my friends Hannah and Lindsey, and others that I couldn’t say no to such an interesting and fun assignment. So I will be a guest blogger over at Lies Young Women Believe for the next few months.

I wrote a short article for the blog Marry Well. If you could dedicate a blog post, it’d be to my grandparents and parents who have shown me what a lifetime of service and sacrifice means in a marriage. Thank you so much for your example. God has been so gracious.

You can read it here.

The following video was a part of my past training at Chick-Fil-A, and to be honest, it discouraged me. I was discouraged because I saw a lost, hurting, and dying world and all that I had the opportunity to do was smile, sell chicken, and maybe make a friend. I am well aware that there is more opportunity for ministry than just that, but my time working in the family friendly quick-service restaurant propelled me to a greater passion to offer people more than just a smile and a chicken sandwich. I have the gospel that each of these people need so desperately in their lives.

What is your response to this video?

I just had an article published in the Give Me An Answer Important conference material that it being given out to a few hundred students that are visiting the campus of Southern Seminary to hear speakers like J.D. Greear, Albert Mohler, and Russell Moore (along with Shane and Shane and FLAME). I am extremely excited about it, and honored to have contributed a little bit to the cause of helping students understand what is really important.

The conference theme reminded me of something I had written in the past that continues to convict me each and every time I read it. I was sitting in a coffee shop the other day chatting with a friend about how our technology is affecting our relationships (particularly those who are married). But I also wonder how it may be affecting our most important relationship, our relationship with God.

So I wrote this article about the importance of knowing God in an age of constant distraction, change, and confusion.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking as he pulled out his iPhone and took advantage of a new Facebook application — right in the middle of the sermon.

It was then that I realized the narcissistic machine that is Facebook.

Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, I found myself desiring to do the same. I shuddered. Have I really come to this place where I’m more concerned about what’s taking place on Facebook than what’s going on in this church service? More concerned about a self-serving social networking site than this Bible on my lap?

Later on that evening, I thought more about my internal battle between Facebook and my Bible. I understand that one of my desires as a Christian should be to know God more deeply; the reality is that I spend very little time actually getting to know Him. Too often, my hours are spent pursuing other human beings through convenient electronic means like Facebook. My life can quickly become all about striving to know my buddies better than my Lord.

My latest article published by a new organization called Generation Impact:

I couldn’t help but smile as I looked beyond the casket and towards the podium as family and friends rose from their seats, walked onto the stage, and proceeded to speak.

Is it odd to say that I just came from an awesome funeral?

This morning I got to watch sky fade from darkness into a radiant and blinding red and orange – and it made me think about heaven.

It made me think of heaven because, although the sunrise was spectacular, I felt that it just wasn’t enough. Something told me that this sunset was most certainly like looking through a filthy window pane – or maybe the windshield of my car earlier in the morning before the defrost started working. Almost impossible to see, yet we catch just a glimpse, a glimmer, of the greatness to come.

No more cancer. No more welling up with pain inside or overflowing with tears. No more terrorists or towers collapsing. No more orphans or parents dying. No more accidents and frantic calls for help. No more starvation, no more AIDS, no more broken homes. No more divorce, no more anger, no more worry, no more stress, no more aches and pains, no more bloody knees or broken faces. No more rumors, no more hurt feelings, no more lack of love.

And this place – heaven – will be a place so much like earth – eating, music, animals, water, trees, food, a celestial city. So much more than we could ever imagine. – and not simply floating around on clouds. It is a most wonderful place that Jesus is preparing for us, and we know He makes all things good.

And it is there we shall see His face.

That, my dear friends, is what struck me most violently as I contemplated and wondered and longed for heaven. I long more than anything else to see His face, the face of the One who has forgiven me of wrongs that no one should forgive, of sin so deep that no one would want to see it.

And we should long for Him in a radical way.

A. W. Tozer has said, “Let no one apologize for the powerful emphasis Christianity lays upon the doctrine of the world to come. Right there lies its immense superiority to everything else within the whole sphere of human thought or experience….We do well to think of the long tomorrow.” *

We do well to think of the long tomorrow. So think about it as we long to see His face. Oh, I can’t wait to go home!

* (http://www.epm.org/artman2/publish Randys_books_excerpts_from_Randys_books/59_Excerpts_from_Randy_Alcorn_s_In_Light_of_Eternity.shtm)
* Originally published December 30, 2009.

Tullian Tchividjian preached an excellent message at Covenant Life a few weeks ago, and in that message, included the following poem called “The Fellowship of the Unashamed,” which I found extremely encouraging. It’s worth reading.

I am a part of the fellowship of the Unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit Power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I won’t look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure. I am finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, mundane talking, chintzy giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don’t have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by presence, learn by faith, love by patience, lift by prayer, and labor by power.

My pace is set, my gait is fast, my goal is Heaven, my road is narrow, my
way is rough, my companions few, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, deterred, lured away, turned back, diluted, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won’t give up, back up, let up, or shut up until I’ve preached up, prayed
up, paid up, stored up, and stayed up for the cause of Christ. I am a
disciple of Jesus Christ. I must go until He returns, give until I drop,
preach until all know, and work until He comes.

Kansas. 3:12 PM.

I was traveling on I-70 Eastbound across Kansas on my way back home after a short visit to Kansas State University. My new friends Heidi and Laura, students at the school, were kindly giving me a ride back to the airport. The flatlands seemed like a blur as I looked out the window. As country music stars crooned quietly in the background, we shared and talked about everything from biblical femininity to how they had dealt with being Christians at a secular school.

It was an informative ride. I found out some crazy things, like how similar my experience in college has been to their experience, even though I find myself in a totally different environment. It was clear that we all need community in order to be strong followers. For Heidi, Laura, and their friends it was easy to create their own Christian bubble on their secular campus, just like it had been easy for me to hide in my pre-constructed Christian bubble at my own school.

After some slightly confused (yet still skilled) driving from Heidi, I arrived at my terminal (Dear Kansas City, I love you, but your airport needs to get it together. I don’t like you’re airport. It’s weird.). Due to some scheduling issues, I had arrived rather early at the airport in Kansas City. It’s hard to describe what this means to those who haven’t visited Kansas City International.

Two words will do: It stinks.

My terminal had a Starbucks and a sandwich shop, which sounds great for about 30 minutes, but for two hours, there really wasn’t much to do. However, the airport quickly redeemed itself when I found that they were providing me with free wireless Internet, quite unlike the other stingy airports that haughtily guard that prized possession. I took advantage of this incredible amenity and quickly jotted down my thoughts about my trip across Kansas and how I had learned so much by having a meaningful conversation with two total strangers.

After a few hours, the time came for me to walk down onto the tarmac and board a tiny little commuter jet to Chicago. I climbed on board, grabbed my seat and threw on my headphones (and then remembered my article Dear Melissa). So I took them out and tried to make some small talk. I quickly found out the woman beside me was from Sweden and wasn’t quite understanding me. So I lifted her up in prayer and went back to reading the in-flight magazine.

Just as we pushed off from the gate and began to move, the pilot came on and spoke in that classic pilot voice. The news was devastating:

“Ladies and gentleman, we’ve just received word, literally as we pushed off from the gate, that all planes are grounded heading into Chicago due to a VIP landing. We apologize for the inconvenience. It could be about an hour before we receive word…so…feel free to move about the cabin. Hopefully we receive word sooner. Again, we apologize for the inconvenience, there’s just nothing we can do…”

The plane collectively groaned. I was angered and upset along with the rest of the passengers. I whipped out my cell phone, pounded on the keyboard, and vented to my ride that I would be now have a late arrival thanks to the President. I hung up, heaved a long sigh, and went back to reading.

An hour later we finally took off.

Chicago. 9:39 PM.

As I walked off the plane, it seemed the entire United States had now found themselves in Chicago. Every flight was delayed – except for mine. Somehow my flight home was right on time, which was quite unfortunate since I had been hoping to have some time for dinner in Chicago before heading to my flight. Instead, my plane was about 15 minutes away from beginning to board.

I trudged and dodged my way to my terminal, muttering all the way about the inconvenience and stupidity of it all. I barely had time to use the restroom before rushing with my luggage to my gate. I’m sure my face showed what was in my heart. I saw no reason for this tomfoolery. It was ridiculous. Just plain stupid. My stomach was roaring, my head was pounding, and in my heart I was fuming.

The 15 minutes seemed like forever as I waited to board. I watched the basketball game for a little while, saw Kobe beat the Phoenix Suns with an air ball on his way to the finals, and boarded the plane. Once I settled in, my mind was a little more calmed down. I was back on track now, headed home with a warm bed and familiar time zone as my reward.

I met my neighbor, and this time he spoke English. Well, Canadian English. Which amused me, particularly when I found he was part of a Canadian metal band, an image that made me chuckle. It was tough to talk with him. I didn’t really “get” anywhere, but we ended up having an interesting conversation nonetheless. He surprised me. I expected a metal band member to be rather unintelligent. But he was very well spoken, and his knowledge of all things music was incredible. I rather enjoyed the conversation, and quickly found that this was his first flight on a tour that would soon include Europe. So I briefed him on the routine of a normal flight. We both put in our headphones and took off into the clouds.

Before long however, this flight became more than routine.

To describe in one sentence, as I looked out my window, I was having World War II flashbacks complete with billowing clouds and flashes of lighting. Our plane suddenly dropped. All the rows behind me screamed. I sent up a sudden prayer. My Canadian friend cussed.

The captain quickly came on to assure us that we were “fine” and that a major storm had decided to hang right above the airfield, but it looked like it would move soon. After about a half-hour of circling the airport, we got diverted. The storm hadn’t moved an inch. Instead it had intensified over the runway.

I couldn’t believe it. Once again, I fumed.

So we headed down to Virginia to land, far from where my ride was. I called my ride once we landed, expressing my disgust and frustration at the whole ordeal. We figured out a plan of action – I would have to spend some of the night with my dad, who conveniently worked the night shift close by to where I would land.

Downtown Washington, D.C. 2:01 AM.

It was one of those odd moments where you’re so tired everything seems to be a blur. I was rolling along with my dad to get something to eat before heading home. The restaurant of choice was a hole-in-the-wall place run by a few Middle Eastern guys. It was clean, but still felt old and beaten up. It had that funny smell of ancient buildings that try to hide the trashiness behind closed doors. But I didn’t care anymore. I caught up on the Lakers win thanks to a few television screens and dug into some greasy pizza. My stomach had the won the battle over my sleepy body. But within a hour or so, besides a few detours along the way that I don’t have room to mention, I was on my way home. Finally.

Home. 4:46 AM.

You know, sometimes our lives are a little like my trip across Kansas (and half the United States). It’s full of remarkable opportunities, grand conversations, frustrating delays, heart-stopping adventures, and random moments where you find yourself eating greasy pizza at hole-in-the-wall establishments at 2 A.M.

I don’t think I’d change it for the world.

It is in these moments that my heart seems to show itself most clearly. The difficult moments bring the realities of my heart bubbling to the surface for everyone to see. Sometimes it shows a lack of trust in God in the circumstances I find myself in, asking “why me” or simply telling God “I see absolutely no reason for this.” That’s pride and arrogance taking the controls while humility and trust take a backseat. That’s dangerous in this life – in fact, it may be deadly for our spiritual lives. If we listen to the lies our sinful hearts tell us, we can be fooled in an instant.

The Psalmist reminds us to “be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him.” He tells us that “in a little while, the wicked will be no more; though you look carefully at his place he will not be there. But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.” (Psalm 37:7-11)

As I look back over my trip that began in Kansas – well, I can’t believe it all happened. But it reminds me of my desperate need to not listen to the lies that my heart likes to tell me in not only in crazy situations, but in the normal, mundane moments of life. Lies that say other paths are better than the way the Lord has for me. When I wake up, sin is there to speak those lies to me. When I’m late for work, sin is there to speak more lies to me. When a relationship fails, sin is there to speak another lie to me.

And so often I listen.

But if I’m to make this journey in life with a safe heart – well, I need to tell me heart to listen closely: God is sovereign, and I am going to humbly trust him no matter what happens.

Even if it means another crazy night like this one.

Tall and lanky, he ambled towards my table and slapped down his Bible, thin black note-book and his copy of the “Valley of Vision.” Ladies and gentlemen, meet Spencer Harmon.

Surprisingly this bright and amiable 18-year-old was once a shy child who wept and fled to the comfort of his mother’s knees each time his family sang “Happy Birthday.” Maybe it was the result of his father’s time away in the Middle East during Operation Desert Storm during Harmon’s first year on this earth or perhaps it was his super-sensitive ears. Either way, things have changed.

Harmon grew up playing baseball, a sport he not only enjoyed but also excelled at. When Harmon was nine, his coach, who once played baseball for the Cincinnati Reds and just happened to room with the great pitcher Randy Johnson, possessed a team so impressive that Sports Illustrated considered dispatching a writer to cover their success. His foray into sports continued through middle school and into his high school years. After middle school, Harmon ended his home-schooling years and entered the local high for the varsity team. However, an injured arm forced him to quit baseball for one year. It was during therapy and rehab he lost his passion for baseball.

“I remember going to my mom and saying to her ‘I’m done with baseball,’” Harmon said with a sheepish grin. She just gave a look that seemed to say she knew it might be coming to this. “Are you sure?” she asked.
He was, and suddenly the dream that included scholarships and strikeouts ended. He walked into his coach’s office and broke the news: he wasn’t called to baseball. He was called to the ministry.

And apparently it was to rap music as well.

Poems for posterity

“It was three weeks later that I came out with my first rap song,” Harmon told me. “I had been writing poetry since I was 12 years old.” But he wasn’t very proud of it at the time. “I thought writing poetry was really feminine,” he said. “So I would wait up at night and wait until my brother was asleep, turn on my book light, and I would hang my arm off the side of my bed and I would write poems.”

Before he knew it, he had an overflowing black book full of embarrassing poems just waiting for posterity to discover. “I remember thinking I really wanted to put these poems to beat, and I wanted to share them with people,” he said.

At first his idea was to simply use spoken word to share his work, but he talked to his DJ, Todd Banks, who gave him some beats — and Spencer Harmon’s first rap song was born. He found himself thrown onto a stage, which just happened to be at a youth conference with 5,000 people. Since then he has played shows in almost every state along the East coast, and has written and recorded five albums including Empathy Apathy (2005), Empty Chairs LP (2006), and is currently slated to release a conceptual album Gypsy Project. His latest album “Beats and Babbles” dropped this past month.

“I’m no FLAME,” said Harmon, “but I try to stay faithful to the ministry through rap music.” He’s been influenced by the likes of C.S. Lewis, John Piper and Ravi Zacharias. When it comes to writing, Spencer’s other passion, he loves Pulitzer Prize winning author Marilynne Robinson, Robert Frost and E.E. Cummings. Lately, the “Valley of Vision” has had a huge impact on both his music and life. These days he’s excitedly preparing for the release of his conceptual album, Gypsy Project, which is written from the perspective of being a missionary in a village of gypsies and attempting to penetrate their hearts with the gospel — but this story doesn’t end like a fairy tale. He penned this album at age 17, but it had yet to be recorded until now.

Not spectacular

Harmon has had a lot of difficulty evaluating his musical interests and getting some-where with his gifts, and the call to ministry that he says can keep him up at night. “I’ll be doing one and thinking about the other,” he said, smiling. “But ministry is the main focus.”

Harmon has been dreaming of coming to Bible college since he was a freshman in high school, sitting in his friend Jon’s truck outside of his house, dreaming well into the morning about the days when they would come to Bible college and how incredible it would be. His dream finally came to fruition when he started at Boyce College last semester. “I’ll still be in hermeneutics class and be thinking ‘I can’t believe I get to do this. I get to study the Bible. I get to go to theology class and read Wayne Grudem and the Bible for homework.”

It keeps things in perspective for him, he said. “This kind of school isn’t a place where you should complain. This is a big choice to come to a place like this … If you are going to come here you should love what you do.” All that to say, Harmon isn’t anything necessarily spectacular or new. But that certainly doesn’t mean he’s sitting on the bench watching the big-hitters swing.

“I think the Lord is saying to take the opportunities he gives you no matter how small they are,” Harmon said. The fear of being thought of as someone who only does good deeds for human praise often makes Harmon leery of doing small things that mean much. But even through his own failures each day, he is concerned about being faithful whether it is in his music, schooling, or just life in general. For example, there are students at Boyce whom people don’t really know, Harmon said with deep concern in his voice. He wants to sit down with them and have meaningful and intentional conversations and encourage others to do the same.

“I don’t want talking about the Gospel to be an anomaly around here,” he said. That includes putting that Gospel into action in the very small things in life, whether that is those intentional conversations, or simply thanking those who are serving him in the cafeteria.

To be sure, Harmon isn’t a “somebody.” But it is obvious that when he walks into a room and slaps down his Bible, notebook, and copy of the “Valley of Vision,” he is serious about his faith.

Above all, Harmon realizes this truth: “His faithfulness is greater than my faithfulness.”

For more information about Harmon visit www.beatsandbabbles.com.

Originally published in The Towers, a publication of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. By Tim Sweetman.