Nothing Lasts Forever


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As I prepare for the final service, December 18th, of my twenty-seven  year ministry spanning three churches, two of which we helped plant, I find myself surprisingly “un-sad”. Looking back, I have few regrets. From the day in the fall of 1989 when Pastor David Graves offered me my first church job, it has been the journey of a lifetime. Even today, I have a difficult time wrapping my brain around why God chose me. My faith has grown exponentially to the point that most days I am at least in the ballpark of being a fully devoted follower of Christ. I think back on my time at Grace Church and the issue with the hymnal. I was raised Catholic and until a year or so before I went on staff I had never seen a hymnal, much less tried to sing from one. So, for the first six months I was about a half-second behind everybody else. That was a bit awkward since each service I was sitting on the platform without any place to hide. But even that bit of embarrassment makes a cool little story to share.

In 1993 Cathy and I, along with four friends, started Highland Park Church. I have believed in God at least since I was five, but during my twelve years at HPC I was witness to what I believe were several miracles that are unexplainable if I take God out of the equation. The first was the perfect assurance we had that the church would be a huge success even though you could put what we knew about church planting on the head of a pin. From the get-go that was a given and it happened above and beyond our dreams. There was a miracle regarding a horse trailer. The most obvious one was that God pulled some strings allowing us to purchase 66 acres, five miles from downtown for $725,000. A Bank president remarked that was the best property buy in Nashville’s history.

Eleven years ago, I left my position as founding pastor in what was the most painful season of my life.  That period was permeated with a deep sense of sadness that settled into the pores of my soul like a thick August  fog. At first I thought it was about brick and mortar. We had just moved into our brand-new state of the art building, after spending nearly twelve-years as a portable church, meeting in a community center and a high school. I finally realized that my pain had little to do with losing a building. The epicenter of my pain was the loss of treasured relationships. Buildings are replaceable; treasures are not.  After a personal grief that lasted for months, I concluded that nothing lasts forever.  And as painful as that might be, night is always followed by a new day.

I figured that Crossroad Community Church would be HPC 2.2. It was never close as far as size. At first I had a problem accepting that fact, mostly because of my pride. Then one Thanksgiving morning God told me to take care of the folks He had given me and do it as well as I could. I’ve tried to do that. The final miracle is the “Crossroad Miracles Still Happen Grant Program” in which our church will distribute over $600,000 that would have gone into a building. Now, it will go to multiple ministries so that our legacy will live on in the lives of people whom we will never know. We are discovering anew that it is greater to give than receive. God Bless!

My  journey to wholeness in my free online book  @ Part 1 UNSCREWED – Becoming Whole Again

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