Some might read this and call me out, based on semantics.
Go right ahead.

*The following blog post was originally started on Dec. 30, 2009.

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I’ve never been a huge fan of reading through the Bible in a year. It seems like a silly goal. Its like saying, “I’m going to the gym and I’m gonna work out like crazy and I’m gonna get huge.” Okay. Great. But what’s the point? I guess I’d always thought that I’d rather read a page and understand it then read a thousand and not remember any of it. But that’s just me. That is, until recently.

Don’t laugh at me, but I’m in day TWO (yes, I know) of a through-the-Bible reading plan. And I’m already struck today by four words repeated in Genesis chapter 5: “And then he died.” The majority of the chapter tells the story of the number of years lived by Adam, Seth, Enosh, Kenan, Mahalalel, Jared, Enoch, Methusaleh, Lamech, and Noah.

After telling how many years each one of these men lived (and little else about their lives), each paragraph ends with “and then he died.” I can’t think of any better engraving to have on my tombstone. Jerry Varner: 1973-_____. “And then he died.”

It was a reminder to me that death is so not what we view it as. Death is such an uncomfortable topic to us humans. For me, its because it represents the ticking timer each one of us have that is directly connected to our to-do list; both have-to-do’s and want-to-do’s. And when that timer is up, there are no more to-do’s, but just one last ta-da!

“And then he died” is a great statement to keep in the forefront of life. Not as a morbid reminder of the temporalness of this life, but as a reminder of the imminent commencement of the next. “And then he died” is penned much like “And then he got up from that chair and moved to another room.” So matter-of-fact.

And I don’t care who you are, what you believe, where you live, or what you do. I defy anyone to come up with an issue that weighs more than the issue of eternity. And not to be dismissive, but I won’t even engage the thought that eternity doesn’t exist. That, to me is a non-sensical argument. No matter what your convictions (or apathy) toward the existence of God, the idea of death, the questions surrounding the afterlife; one thing cannot be ignored, and that is the fact that you and I will die and at the moment of our death, we will move from this life to __________. To fill the blank with the word “nothing” is to live in the deepest, most dangerous kind of denial. And its far better to face the blank now than later.

So since there is an eternity, what will it be for you? Ask most anyone in America what they think will happen when they die and you’re more than likely to get some variation of this response: “Well, I think that I’ll go to heaven.” And when you ask them “Why do you think that you’ll go to heaven?” you’ll hear something like, “Because I’ve been a pretty good person. I haven’t done too many things wrong. I haven’t like, killed anybody or anything. So, yeah. I think God will let me in.”

That, my friends, is a crap shoot at best.

There are so many pluses to not having cable. We’ve been a year and a half without cable and by and large, its wonderful. One of the biggest differences we notice is during the 2 Christmas seasons we’ve been without cable, our kids are at a loss as to what they want for Christmas, because there aren’t any commercials telling them what they want.

I spent this past weekend with about 100 others from our church who joined about 400 others at the VA District Winter Retreat. It was a great experience for all who came along. Not only did our teens have a blast skiing, snowboarding, waterparking, and tons of other cool stuff, but we also had a great spiritual experience together as well. It was such a blessing to hear from students about what God was speaking to them. I was encouraged to see many of our students engaged in worship of the King with a new level of abandon and awe. But as any retreat attendee will tell you, life at retreat and life at home are often 2 diametrically opposed realities. Or at least they USED to be.

In the early days of ministry, the challenge we used to face as we return from retreat is to somehow “harness” the experience; to somehow take the experience from there to here. But the longer I’ve been in ministry, the more I’ve committed to some “post-retreat” thoughts. Here are a few of them:

1. God meets us at our place of expectation, whether they be high or low.
2. Retreats, by definition, are not meant to last. Neither are the feelings they invoke.
3. To live life like you’re on retreat is to miss the point of the retreat.
4. Retreats are used for the ultimate outcome of a strong advance (this is the same principle used in battle situations). If there is no advance, then the retreat is actually a loss of ground.
5. You must keep retreat memories from becoming the standard by which we measure God. God would much rather us be “imagine if” and “what’s next” kind of people; not “remember when” kind of people.

Needless to say, we had a fantastic time at retreat, and we’re poised to take faith steps into what God is leading us into for our student ministry. Those who come along will be blessed. Those who don’t will be spectators to a blessing rather than participants.

After any retreat, you’re just plain wiped out physically. I slept like a log last night. That is, until 5:30 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of dripping water. Not from the showerhead. Not from the bathroom sink. Not from the raingutters outside. It was coming from the skylight directly above my bed. The rain was dripping right next to my head onto my pillow. You can bet I was definitely awake instantly! I hopped up with an imagination that had already decided that my roof was about to cave in. I ran to the closet to grab a towel to lay down on my pillow, because after all, if my roof is going to cave in, I certainly didn’t want any debris on my pillow. Ridiculous.

So, I laid the towel, still partially folded, onto the right half of my pillow where the drip was happening. Then I sat there and stared at it, because what’s more effective at stopping a drip than a stare? Ridiculous.

Then I did something that to some might seem a little less (or a little more) ridiculous. I decided that I would pray. I’d go to God about this situation. My wife and I had already scheduled a guy to come next week to repair an exterior spot under our bedroom’s bay window where a small bit of wood rot had softened the siding. My imagination kicked back in and decided that not only would he also take a look at the skylight, but that he would discover that the entire roof would have to replaced. While I do have some money in the bank, if you think I have enough saved to buy a new roof….well….ridiculous.

So I prayed.

“God, You’re my Lord. You’re the One who is trustworthy. You’ve been rock-solid faithful to me when my faithfulness to You is often flimsy at best. You have been so good to me, God. I have never wanted for anything. You’ve never not met my needs. You’re just so good. God, my roof is leaking. I know that there are TONS of other more important things in the world than this right now. I know that if we made a list in order of importance, this need would probably rank near dead last. But God, You don’t operate that way. You’re not the God who says ‘Get in line and I’ll help you when I get a chance.’ God, your help, like your grace, is immediate. You care about the things that concern me because I care about the things that concern You. So God, I’d like to humbly ask that you give me wisdom in how to handle this leak situation. Would You please direct me as I take some faith steps with You? I don’t know what to do, but You do.”

Then I heard God speak to my heart.
He asked, “Jerry, do you trust Me?”
I answered, “Yes God. I trust You.”
He said, “Jerry, get back in bed.”

So, I did. I got back in bed and instead of fretting about what to do with my roof, I enjoyed 2 hours of the most peaceful sleep I’ve had, under the protective canopy of the hand of God.

The cell phone is to the 11 year old now what the learners permit was to the 16 year old then.

Freedom. Liberty. Status. And just plain cool.

15 years ago, I thought that guy Tony in my church who had the small leatherette attache’ case with the shoulder strap and a coiled cord coming out the side attached to a phone handset was the coolest person I knew. When he swiveled that antenna skyward, you knew it was Go Time. And now, well…next time you’re anywhere stop and look around. Count how many people have a teeny-weeny device next to (or in) their ear.

This past holiday season, my daughter (she’ll be 13 in 2 months) told us that she really wanted a cell phone for Christmas. My wife and I have always employed the “give it to ’em straight” parenting method. We don’t sugar-coat anything. We’ve actually had this conversation in our home:

My wife: “There’s no Santa Claus.”
Kids: “Yes there is!”
My wife: “Okay, Daddy and I won’t put out any gifts. Let’s see what Santa brings you.”

See? It’s just that easy to crush a child’s dreams. Practice hard, and you can do it too.

But this whole business of elementary school kids and tweens with phones is pretty crazy. I know there are legitimate reasons for some kids to have their own phone. And far be it from me to launch into a “back in my day” soliloquy. It’s just that kids having phones has opened up just as many (if not more) pitfalls than conveniences.

There’s a kid in our neighborhood that plays in our yard regularly. He’s an awesome kid. He’s polite, kind, thoughtful, and just really cool. He’s the kind of kid you want your kids hanging around. (Does anyone say that about MY kids?) And his house is about 50 yards from ours. And when he needs to ask his mom if he can come in, or stay out, or do whatever, he pulls out the cell phone and calls her. He’s in 4th grade.

Meanwhile, we tell our kids, “If you can’t hear us calling you (as in yelling), you’re too far from the house.” We’re so old-fashioned.

I know of families where each person in the family has a phone, and texting from room to room has taken the place of conventional talking (who’d have thought you’d ever need to use “conventional” and “talking” in the same sentence?).

And once again yesterday, I was reminded of the snares of “sexting”, because the mass media got bored with Haiti for a second and had to fill some airtime. Young people are facing fines and imprisonment for sending sexually charged messages, pictures, and videos to each other through their cell phones and smart phones. By the way, if I rely on a “smart phone” to handle the details of my life, what does that make me?

And perhaps you’ve seen the commercial out of the UK that horrifically and graphically portrays the dangers of texting while driving. Geared at teens, but relatable to all; watch that brief PSA spot and you’ll think twice about punching that keypad next time you’re behind the wheel.

But parents far and wide are plunking down their dollars to give Junior and Juniorette their very own weapon of mass interruption. And I’ve been astounded to hear from parents about their seemingly endless frustrations about their son/daughter texting all hours of/through the night with their friends. You’ve heard of “Shaken Baby Syndrome”? How about some “Shaken Parent Syndrome” for parents who forget that THEY’RE the parents? When I talk with them about the struggles they’re facing since little Johnny got his cell phone, I pretty much ask one simple question, “And who pays that cell phone bill?” Did you know that you can choose NOT to have a texting plan? Did you know that you can choose NOT to have internet access on a phone? And get this–it’s cheaper! Its a mind-blowing revelation to some parents, I know.

But as a youth pastor, I also must hop the fence and speak of the good things about students having phones. And in case I didn’t say it before–I’m the top texter on our church staff. And I’m proud of that. It’d be a crying shame for somebody over in the business office to be out-texting a youth pastor. Yep, I love my BlackBerry.

As a youth pastor, there are a few good things about cell phones:
–I can text most of my students and sometimes even get a response.
–I can use cell phones creatively in our student ministry; polls, contests, and even in worship.
–Kids are generally more accessible when they have their own phone.
Other than those, I’m not sure what the good things are. And as I re-read that short list, I’m not sure any of them are non-debatable or couldn’t be achieved through some other medium.

In our student worship services, we ask students to turn their phones off for the duration of the service, to please refrain from texting, and to pull their earbuds out. You’d be shocked (maybe) if you saw some students use of their devices all through the worship service, if we let them.

And speaking of texting, the world of texting puts students into immediate contact and connection with virtually anyone (including people you don’t know or approve of). Their sense of connectedness to their friends, 9 times out of 10 will diminish (or even destroy) their sense of connectedness to their families. While this is certainly one of the teen’s selling points of a texting plan, it is ultimately detrimental to the young person. Resentment toward parents is a clear symptom of a student who is over-connected to social networks and under-connected to family.

And today, with tweens and teens racking up thousands upon thousands of text messages a month (and their parents usually footing the bill), its no wonder why we have a young generation who ooze entitlement, disrespect, and even (some say) outright laziness. The truth is, we’ve handed the world to them when we’ve handed them their phone; a world they’re anything but ready for.

Throughout all my years in ministry, I have received countless affirmations, compliments, encouragements, and blessings from the mouths of those I have served, loved, and led. To say these words are gratifying would be a huge understatement.

But what astounds me is that even to this day there are four negative statements that have been made to me (about me/my ministry) that not only stung, but stuck. Even today, I roll them over in my mind and for better or worse, I give them more weight than all the accolades and positive statements I have received. And I guess I’ve reached a point where I’m comfortable to not only share them, but how I really feel about them, and have felt about them for years.

Statement #1: “I don’t know how many people you’ve driven from the church today.”

Believe it or not, this statement was made to me within an hour of the close of my very first sermon as a fulltime pastor. It was a phone call at my home which was a driveway’s width away from the church building. One of the men in the church was calling to (in no uncertain terms) share with me his displeasure in the sermon I had just preached. Needless to say, I was dumbfounded, speechless, and had an immediate sense of standing on shaky ground when it comes to other people’s confidence in me as a pastor/minister/leader. And it wouldn’t be the last time, either.

Statement #2: “You’re not a good listener.”

This one killed me. I have always considered myself a VERY good listener. As a listener, I’ve got it all–rock solid eye contact, nods of the head to indicate I’m following you, and even a reassuring “Mmm” to make sure you’re aware that I’m with you in what you’re saying to me. Not only do I produce all the outward indicators that I am listening to the person speaking to me, but I do my best to internalize what I’m hearing, holding it up against my own intellect, emotions, and experiences so that I might (when you’re finished of course) have something meaningful and helpful to say. But only after I repeat to you what I’ve heard you say so that we’re both assured that I’ve understood everything correctly.

So, you can see how a point-blank “You’re not a good listener” would send shockwaves through my sense of certainty that I am indeed a good listener. To make my point: the next time you see me, stop me and talk to me about something–ANYTHING–and see if I don’t deliver the goods when it comes to laser-focused listening. As I’m typing this, there is a plastic life-sized ear that is clipped to the side of a file organizer on my desk. This is my visual daily reminder to be a good listener. When did I purchase a plastic life-sized ear? Moments after someone said to me, “You’re not a good listener.”

Statement #3: “You’re the worst self-promoter I’ve ever met.”

Now, to be fair, this person was not meaning to be malicious or discouraging. I think he was trying to tell me that there was so much good going on in the student ministry I was leading and no one seemed to be aware of all the good things happening. So, while the statement might seemed negative, I choose to believe that it had a good intention buried within it. So, why not write it off as a positive comment? Good question. Here’s why: All throughout my ministry, I have known those who seem to have a knack for making themselves attractive/productive/withit/etc. In short, I lack that ability. I do what I do and if no one sees it….brace yourself…..I really don’t care. But hold on, that’s not entirely true. I could have just deleted that last statement and put something that explains myself better or makes me look better, but therein lies the issue. Honestly: I’m someone who needs encouragement and affirmation. I’m not a high-maintenance diva by any means, but a pat on the back with me will go a really long way. I just need to know that someone–ANYONE notices something–ANYTHING that I’m doing in ministry. I’d like to be that guy who could give a rip what you think, but I’m not. That’s why that statement I heard so many years ago sticks with me still today.

Statement #4: “If I were you, I’d really question my calling to ministry.”

This one takes the cake. Spoken to me by a parent of a couple of the students in the youth group I was leading, it cut my heart like few other statements made to me have. And I’d be being dishonest if I didn’t say that its a statement that I revisit probably far too often. Even now as I’m typing, I can feel my heartbeat quickening as my memory goes back to the phone conversation I had that contained those words. And I suppose I could just blow it off and chalk it up to just some disgruntled parent who didn’t understand ministry, or how things operate in the church realm, or even spiritual things. But years after it was spoken, just as I was getting over it, I received a magazine in the mail and guess who was on the cover? Yep. The very man that uttered those words to me. The only (but true) solace I have is that I have indeed taken his advice (more times that he possibly intended) and have come out the other side with a resolve and certainty in my heart that says, “I have….and thanks.”