I watered my lawn this morning. Uninteresting you say? “So what?”, you ask? Are you yawning with excitement over what slight detail I may have left out?

Well, would it interest you to know that my lawn didn’t need watering? In fact it’s been raining quite a bit here and my lawn was already saturated. And when I say saturated I mean swishy-swampy saturated. Have I piqued your interest in my story yet? No?

What if I told you that I watered my lawn without a hose? How about now? Want to know more? I mean how does one water one’s lawn without so much as a hose? Are your ears perked up yet? Not yet? Boy, you’re a tough nut to crack.

What if I told you that I watered my lawn with hot water? Is this some new tip I picked up from that PBS gardening show? I mean who waters their lawn with hot water? Want to know more? Even a little?

And what if I told you that I watered my lawn while I slept? Would you call me the most prolific gardener you’d ever heard of? I mean who waters their lawn while they’re sleeping? What kind of lawn savant would I have to be to have that kind of ability?

Well, I’ll tell you what kind of savant I am. I’m the kind that installs a “tankless” hot water heater in his attached shed and then wakes up to a failed connection in the hot water pipe so that for probably hours while I slept hot water poured out of the pipe, into the shed, and out into my yard. THAT’S what kind of savant I am. Impressive, huh?

I awoke this morning at 6:30ish and grabbed my towel and headed to the shower. I turned the knob and *drip*, *drip*, *drip*. And I heard the gentle hum of a tankless hot water heater, heating water for an undeserving lawn.

So, I sprung into action like some type of crazed, aquatic super hero; adjustable wrench in hand, out the back door, to the shed, surveyed the liquid carnage, and to the front yard to the main water shut-off valve.

And thanks to a great friend whom I called almost immediately, the situation was under control in less than an hour.

And I don’t mean to “spiritualize” everything, but after showering and getting into my day, I got to thinking.

And my thinking led me pretty quickly to a simple and yet for me, probing question: “Who needs me?”

As wonderful as that hot water was, the lawn didn’t need it at all. Neither did the concrete floor of my shed. The hot water was needed in the shower; and yet, that seemed to be the only place it wasn’t present.

And quite honestly, the question is baffling to me. And for better or for worse, I can’t come up with an answer. Now, don’t get me wrong. There are people who might be reading this right now and screaming at the screen, “I need you, Jerry!” My wife is the first person who comes to mind. And my kids might say that they need me. But honestly, besides them–I’m really not a commodity to anyone. I don’t mean to say that I’m not loved or don’t feel loved–on the contrary, I feel quite supported and embraced by my boss, my fellow pastors, my church body, and even some of my neighbors. But I guess the question for me digs deeper than that.

Jesus shocked people a lot. But there is really only one glaring recorded instance when the shock was too great for some people to continue to follow Him. He has said some pretty off-the-wall things about Himself, like being living bread that should be eaten. Pretty crazy, huh? And we’re told that from that point on many turned from Him and stopped following. But the part of the story that touches my life is when Jesus turns to the remaining disciples and says, “Are you going to leave me, too?” Peter said to Jesus, “Where would we go?” Peter wasn’t asking for suggestions. His question answered Jesus’ question clearly. Peter continued, “You have the words of life.” Peter was saying, “Jesus, I’m all in. I believe who You are and I’m with You.” In short, Peter needed Jesus. And I imagine there was a confidence in Peter’s voice, and yet a desperation as well. A desperation that you would have when you are standing on the only hope you have left. You’re confident in that hope, but after all, it is still the only hope left.

So, who needs me? If I click “Publish Post” on the screen and at that moment God decides that my life is done, I’d want every person I know and love to need Jesus the way Peter confessed to. I’d want everyone to cling to Christ as the only hope they have, but the only One they need.

Yesterday, I sat in a luncheon with about 20-25 other youth pastors and various Christian community types of people. There were some YWAM (Youth With A Mission) people there, some 88.1 FM radio voices there, and people like that. I was invited by Dr. James Anderson, who is quickly becoming one of my heroes.

We spent some time eating (of course) and chatting, and then singing, and then praying. The main thrust of the sharing and the praying was toward the issue of unity in the body of Christ in the Richmond area. Passionate prayers were uttered, calling out to God for unity among His people, so that revival and the mighty movement of His Spirit would be evident in our ministries to the place God has called us and placed us. Good stuff.

Now, don’t think I’m being egotistical. But as we prayed together, I was thinking, (did you ever think about something when someone else is praying?) “I’m the answer to these prayers.”

Why would I be so big-headed about my own importance? Simple. Because Jesus told me to. Read it for yourself:

“The glory which You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one, just as We are one;…”

This statement was spoken by Jesus in what we know as “the high priestly prayer”. Jesus was speaking to God the Father about His disciples then and His disciples now.

So, while its all well and good for us to pray for unity, I really believe that there are some prayers that we’ve just got to realize the power that God has given us, and the expectation that God has put upon us to live out the answer to that prayer!

What would happen if I went to that luncheon, participated whole-heartedly in that prayer time and sharing time, and then walked out the door, never to reach out, never to do my part, never to strive for unity with those fellow pastors?

If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?”

This verse, found in James 2:16 clearly shows us that while prayer is so vital to our spiritual lives, we must understand the expectations that God has for us to live out His love to those around us–EVERYONE around us. Whether they are rich or poor, liked or unliked, right or wrong, white or black, Christian or not.

So, its true: I’M the answer to my own prayer in this instance. And not just me, but YOU are too.

Watch this video from beginning to end. I did, and it gave me some great food for thought and hopefully food for action. And if you’d like, share your thoughts in the comments. By the way, the person you’re seeing is “Penn” of “Penn & Teller”, which is an illusion/comedy team. (Just in case you live under a rock.)

There are moments in my life from time to time where I remember that I’m alive. Do you ever forget? I do. I don’t mean “alive” as in breathing, I mean “alive” as in living. To me, there’s a huge difference between those two things. And just this past Friday, I was reminded of that in the most peculiar and slightly jarring way.

I saw something that I have never seen before and quite likely will never see again. And I suppose that I could have possible been quite injured or perhaps even killed. Faced with death, we seem to remember that we’re alive; and alive for a purpose.

I suppose that at some point in the future we’ll have the ability to upload from our mind to the internet something that we saw or experienced, so that everyone can see exactly what our eyes saw. The “helmet-cam” is as close as we’ve come so far. And I wish that on Friday I had a video camera mounted on the dashboard of the car I was driving so that you could see what I saw. You’ll just have to imagine.

I was driving my sister’s car (with her in the passenger’s seat) on I-95 Northbound. We had just gotten on 95 after meeting with my Mom at Roanoke Rapids, NC for an early lunch. There were no cars immediately around us and my speed was probably 75 mph or thereabout. There was a car-carrying 18 wheeler in front of us, one lane over, probably within 100 yards of us. Think a little less than a football field’s length and that’s about the distance from it to us. We were barreling along chatting when I looked at that truck and watched 2 of those truck’s tires (one on either side) pop off simultaneously. Let me rephrase that for clarity: 2 huge truck tires separate themselves from the truck on opposite sides of the truck. So now there are 2 truck tires, fully inflated, rolling for a split second NEXT to the truck but not ATTACHED to the truck. Again, we’re between 75-80 mph at this point. In shock, my initial instinct was to let off the accelerator and watch where the 2 tires were going. And I’m glad I did. The tire on the right slowly veered off to the right and into the ditch on the right side of the interstate. No harm. But the tire on the left, still rolling along down the interstate began to veer to the left and hit the metal guardrail separating the two sides of the interstate. When it did, it shot skyward and landed on the other side of the interstate, the Southbound side. There was another 18-wheeler barreling south and the tire hit the road just underneath the carriage of that truck (I mean the in the largest space between the front and rear wheels of the trailer. When it did, it flipped the loose tire like you would flip a coin and it bounced back into the sky, heading back to our side of the interstate.

Oh no. Few things are as unpredictable as a huge bouncing truck tire on the interstate.

I had reduced my speed just a bit, but honestly not too much because I didn’t want to be a “sitting duck” for the truck tire. Not to mention that you should keep in mind that from beginning to end, this entire event was probably within the span of 10 seconds.

Well, the tire landed again on our side of the interstate and bounced again, heading right toward us. There were still no other cars around us, so it was a showdown between us and the tire. With a presence of mind that I still find amazing, I waited (relatively speaking) until such a moment when I could better discern where the tire was going. Since it was in fact coming right at us, I swerved off the road at the last moment and then back on, leaving the tire safely behind us.

Has something ever happened to you, that made your heart skip a beat? I think its called palpitations. I’m pretty sure that in the moment of the swerving, I skipped a heartbeat.

I immediately called my wife to tell her that I love her. And I do. When we’re faced with uncertainly of life, we’re reminded that we’re alive. And not just breathing, but living.

As a young boy, I recall vividly standing in the church service, hymnal open, singing the song, “At the Cross”. I know that for many churches and Christians, hymns and hymnals have gone the way of the dinosaur, but just this morning my memory and consequently my perspective were renewed as my mind flashed back to these words, originally written by Isaac Watts:

Alas, and did my Savior bleed,
And did my Sov’reign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

Newer hymnals and versions have taken out the word “worm” and have replaced it with “sinner” and some even with “For such a one as I?” That’s really too bad, and at the bus stop this morning, I was reminded of a profound truth.

My daughter Macy is the consumate performer. She lives her life on stage and doesn’t care who’s in the audience. She is constantly singing, dancing, strutting, joking, and anything else that might entertain anyone who might be watching, even if the only one watching is the 6 year old in the mirror. And I had thought that this had really “girly-ized” her. But recently, she has taken on a new role: Savior of Worms.

Its been raining quite a lot recently, and you know what happens when it rains: our driveways, streets, and curbs are awash with struggling, squiggling, slippery worms. And Macy has taken it upon herself to save as many of them as she can. She’s the only girl at her bus stop, and not one boy will touch a worm. Yet Macy, in her concern for their lives, faithfully stoops down, gives each one a gentle touch to see if its still alive, and if so picks up its wriggling body and tosses it back into the grass so it can find the soil again.

The reason why the word “worm” was removed from Isaac Watt’s hymn is unclear. However, I’d suppose that it has something to do with comfort. The image of a worm in our minds is not something most of us wake up with, and not something we tend to want to dwell on. But I suppose that’s precisely why the word should be left in that song, and as a result in our theology. A good friend and fellow pastor Scott Marshall put it succinctly, “We get our theology from our hymns.” And so as a young boy, taught the song “At the Cross”, I was also taught that before the holiness of God I am exactly (if not worse) that writhing, wriggling, wiggling worm–hopeless and helpless until the Savior came and put me back into a place of redemption and salvation. Had he not, well, I’d be dried up and dead.

So standing at the bus stop this morning watching my daughter go from one worm to the next, I was reminded of that childhood hymn and how it really has shaped my view of my sinfulness and worthlessness in light of God’s holiness. Despite the disparity between our two conditions, He reached down, picked me up off the pavement of sin and death, and restored me to life, hope, peace, and joy.

Hello Mixxers!

I warned you.
You can’t say I didn’t.
We’ve reached the end of our “Digging Deep Without Getting Buried” series at The Mixx, and as promised, in just a few short days, this blog page will disappear faster than orange peels in my garbage disposal.

So, here’s the deal: If you still have a question or comment you’d like to post, you better do it NOW! ‘Cuz by the end of the week you will comment no more at imdiggingdeep.

Wipe those tears.

Still digging,
Jerry