My Tribute to Warriors

I pay tribute today to those loyal and courageous men and women of the military forces who have died in defense of our exceptional country, the United States of America.

I pay tribute today to those loyal and courageous men and women who have given themselves in defense of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. . .

. . . . .such as Pastor Delmon Sansom of Phoenix, AZ. whom I observed last evening as he waged war against satan, a cruel enemy of Brother Sansom’s tiny daughter, Reannah. . . and of his son . . . and of your son . . .and your daughter. With heads bowed, we fight!

Blessings Today

Often, I consider how blessed I am. Today is no exception. This morning here at Christ Alive Worship Center in Lake Havasu, my youngest son, Andrew, will be the preacher. In Chula Vista, California in the church he pastors my eldest son, Stephen, will be the preacher. In our service here my middle son, Michael, will be the worship leader. How very blessed I am. Far beyond anything I at all deserve. I am thankful.

Besides that, merely lifting my eyes, engages me in spectacular scenery, and besides that someone gave me beautiful roses.

Happy Day!

Inland Lighthouse Celebrates

This past weekend Inland Lighthouse Church of Rialto, CA. celebrated several significant mile-markers in the life of that great church. Included was the dedication of their new building, the 76th anniversary of the founding of the church, and some important anniversaries in the lives of Pastor and Mrs. Larry Booker. Sunday night was designated a “home-coming” service and all who had ever attended there under the ministry of any of the pastors were urged to attend. Of course we went, and before the preaching of Rev. Nate Wilson, my husband, as one of the former pastors, made special remarks. It was a delightful weekend of celebration, beautifully organized and splendidly accomplished.

Our grandson Nathaniel stands with Jerry just before we entered the building for the evening service.

Chickadees And God’s Sure Word

Jerry spied them first. “Chickadees building a nest in our wood box, Shirley.” Through our bedroom window he pointed, and silently I watched. Thoughtful, I studied the activity of those tiny birds–the encouraging, faith-building, peaceful, comforting activity.

As we muck about political waters, as we dither over church organizations, as we dash from place to place, as our carriage jostles in the street, a carriage into which we pump costly gasoline about which price we as one grumble, God remains steady. Sure. Unmoving. Unchanged. Perfectly dependable. Unflappable. On schedule.

“As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.” Genesis 8:22

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Matthew 6:26

Why did the nest-building of a tiny chickadee interest me this morning? Why did it comfort me? Why did I stare long through the glass in my bedroom? I stared long and was comforted because I recalled the Creator of that tiny bird. I remembered Scripture that speaks to that moment this morning, and it was good. For despite our unease, despite our fretting, despite our questions and our uncertainties, God IS. His Word IS.

And that little bird, innocent and unknowing about her Creator, flits about doing what she was “born” to do, and God sees her and knows about her day. Isn’t that the greatest thing! And if He knows and cares about her, He certainly knows about You–an everlasting soul–and He knows about me.

I am comforted by such knowing.

The Worst Church in Town

Raging, the man looked at the few persons gathered for prayer.

“This is the worst church in town.” His flaming eyes swept across the stunned group. “Oh, not you.” He flailed his arms toward the leaders. “Not you. You’re good. . . but this church,” he continued. “It’s the worst in town. The scum, the lowdown, can’t trust anybody . . .”

As though a physical punch had knocked out her breath, the pastor’s wife trembled and caught for air. Her first impulse to shout “How could you say that about our dear church?” was repressed. She said nothing; hurt, defensive, shaking, a leaf in gathering storm.

Later, she came to understand. The man was right. It was the worst church in town– filled with lowly people, the pitiful, the addict, the undependable, the poor, the weeping, liars, and thieves. The beat up; the beat down.

She came to regard the man’s remarks as compliment. For had she not asked to be like Jesus, to take on His attributes, to enter into His mind? Had she not? Had not the leaders of the church proclaimed their wanting to be like Jesus? She remembered: Jesus once sat at a well with a prostitute; Jesus mingled with drunks; Jesus taught compassion and bandages for those who lie in bloody gutters; He held sticky messy children on His lap. He lived among the homeless. His group could not claim so much as a storefront, but a hillside must do for the church service some days. A small boat creaking in the water was the church platform more than once. Though He taught there every day, Jesus disdained lofty religiosity and once He went prowling about the elaborate temple where He ministered, and not liking what He saw, he silently plaited leather strips into a whip, then flying into the mess Jesus kicked over the tables, expelled the people and charged that His house should be called one of prayer. Jesus gathered an unlikely ragged group to work with Him and the lunatics followed along and the blind and the wretched.

Ours? The worst church in town? Could be.

The Laying on of Hands

Reblogged from God Things:

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Hands, originally uploaded by Shirley Buxton.

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On Sunday in Chula Vista, CA., the ministry laid hands on my grandson Joel Buxton, and he was sent forth as an ordained minister of the gospel.

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Throughout the world–even the church world–there is a strong possibility that the laying on of hands has not been fully appreciated, and, too often, has even been totally misunderstood.

Read more… 474 more words

Call

To My Children

(Sent by email today to my four children, their spouses, and some of my grandchildren.)

IMPORTANT, EXCITING NEW SUBJECT

In the middle of next week, Daddy and I are going down to San Diego where we will pick up our motor home and take it to Lake Havasu.

Those of you who read my facebook posts and/or my blogs know that last week we went to LH, and after the Sunday service, Daddy baptized four people in Mike’s pool. One of them received the Holy Ghost before he left the water. His name is DeWayne, and before we left town, he drove us to a magnificent piece of property in LH, that in the far distance overlooks the Colorado River. “If you want to, you may park your rig here at no cost to you at all.”

Unexpected is the way things have worked out for the church in Lake Havasu, what with Brother McDaniels staying only eight months, and our being unable after that to find a pastor for Christ Alive. In a remarkable way, though it was not planned as such, Michael has stepped up to the challenge and is serving the precious, needy people at Christ Alive. Daddy has retained his position as Senior Pastor.

We are intrigued when we read missionary stories of people who give themselves to a Cause, when we read history books of pioneers who endured hardships to settle our country and our churches, when we learn of a particular serviceman who gave his life for his country, or when we know of people who go into the ghettos or other unappealing places and provide charity services. Sometimes, though, the sense of glamor, and everyday pride in Mission may be missing if we are the ones who are called to make the sacrifice, to endure the hardship . . . to give our lives . . . or if it should be our parents . . . or other loved ones who are so called. I understand, fully, I do.

Christ Alive is a unique church; it’s core being extremely needy people, most of whom have been won through the Christian intervention classes Mike has taught. Most of them are/or have been unstable, have no jobs, have addiction problems, poor family connections, etc. At this point, Mike is handling everything himself–teaching two Christian Intervention classes a week, teaching mid-week Bible study for the church, preaching on Sunday morning, doing all the book work, being responsible for church bills, doing all the counseling, planning the services, the music. . .(no one to play any instrument). Melina is making a huge sacrifice by having Mike “spread so thin.”

So, because we have the motor home, now have a place to park it with no charge, and because we can take some of the burden from Mike, Daddy and I are going to Lake Havasu for a few months, totally in a supportive role. I know you’ll all be concerned, and I love you for it.

Please pray for us. Let’s all make new commitment to pray for each other, for our churches, and for our ministries.

Love you so very much.

Mom