Jeffrey Smith's Blog

Mistaken Identity

My responsibilities as a pastor give me the opportunity to talk to every type of person you could imagine on a weekly basis. As I do my best to try and help people navigate through life with a great sense of purpose and hope in knowing Jesus, I have found one issue that distracts people more than almost any other.  Farmville. I kid, I kid. The issue that truly confuses people is the issue of identity.

 

People want to fit in. As a matter of fact, according to psychologists, our desire for acceptance is greater than our need for food, water, or shelter. It is a need that drives us to do nearly anything. We will search for it anywhere imaginable, we will starve ourselves for it, punish our bodies for it, we will work for it, we will finance things we cannot afford to have it, and many times we will compromise our own values to get it.

 

I am so moved when I look at Jesus’ life because He had such a huge sense of who He was. Remember, He was fully God but He was also fully human as well. He was able to relate with all of our fears, shortcomings, our longings to fit in.

 

Hebrews 4:15

15            For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are--yet was without sin.

 

As we go through life we tend to label ourselves pretty easily in order to find our own identity. From political views and musical tastes to sexual orientation and cultural behaviors, people latch on to almost anything that makes them feel a sense of purpose. Sadly, some people even define themselves from their weaknesses or failures, or even their strengths and successes. None of these things are a viable foundation for who we are. People fail to recognize the difference between what they do and who they are.

 

After 30 years of a fairly normal life Jesus steps on to the scene ready to embark on the most daring, beautiful three year span in the history of the universe. He encounters John the Baptist and asks to be baptized. As Jesus is coming up out of the water something extraordinary happens.

 

Matthew 3:16-17

16            As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him.

17            And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased."

Listen to what the Father says to the Son. First He makes a statement of acceptance.

“This is my Son”. You are a child of God. You can look all over the world for a place to fit in but you will never find a more powerful revelation than the moment you realize what it means to be a child…a child of God.

John 1:12

12            But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God; even to those who believe in His Name.

 

God is speaking that same thing over you at this very moment. “You are my child”. That rules.

 

Second He makes a declaration of His love for His Son. “Whom I love”. How far have you gone in pursuit of love? How many dead ends have led to pain and brokenness when the Fathers love was there all along?

 

Romans 5:8

8            But God commendeth His love for us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

 

The amazing part is that His love for us was the greatest at the worst moment of our lives. He knew or jerkiness, yet loved us.

 

Third He makes a statement of affirmation. “In whom I am well pleased”. During ministry times I have put my arms around dozens of sobbing men over the years that have admitted their whole life was lived vainly in pursuit of the acceptance their father never gave them. To simply hear an important person tell us that they are proud of us does something to the soul. My five year old son Jude will look at me sometimes and say, “Daddy you love me and you are proud of me”. I laugh out loud as I doubly reaffirm his statement. “That’s right son. Your Daddy loves you and I’m very proud of you. You’re a great man”. He usually says, “I already know that Daddy”. He has literally heard me say those things hundreds of times. What the Father spoke over the Son at the Jordan River He is still speaking over you today.

 

On our recent record there is a song called “Draw Me Closer.” I wrote this song in a very intimate moment of my life where I felt as if I could ask God anything and He would grant my request. I could never be so personal with Him if I didn’t know who I was in Him.

 

You are His child. He loves you. He is proud of you. Don’t be defined by anything that never had the power to create you. He knows who you are and who you were meant to be. That is enough.

Spiritual Gifts: Part II

Better to Receive?

If God gave you a gift would you receive it? That is the question I ended Part 1 of this blog with. I think when the question is asked with no context, almost anyone would enthusiastically say, “Yes!” God has, in fact, given us many gifts. Salvation is the greatest gift of all.

Rom 6:23



23            For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

I am happy that I received God’s gift of salvation. When it comes to the gifts He has given us there is such an awesome degree of intentionality on His part. It makes me want to treasure the gift all the more. As a shepherd, or a pastor, I appreciate the gift God has given me to help lead people closer to Him, to watch over them and to build them up. We see in this scripture that the Lord gave these gifts, which are many times are vocational, specifically so Christians could be built up.

Ephesians 4:8, 11&12

8            When he ascended on high he led a host of captives,
and he gave gifts to men.

11             And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, 

12             to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ,

What is really cool about God’s gifts is that He never regrets giving them. (Think of gifts you’ve given ex’s…Grrrr)

Romans 11:29

29            For the gifts and calling of God are without repentance.

I am trying to stress how special we should feel when offered a gift by God. The true value of a gift is when it is received with joy.  

In the final installment of this blog on spiritual gifts I will address the gifts themselves and I will try to outline their functionality for the individual believer and for the church as a whole.

Until then get in a receiving kind of mood ;)

Multifunctional Dysfunction

What drives you? Think about it for a few seconds. You don’t need me to explain any further in order for you to contemplate. …Take 30 seconds and figure out an answer. Be honest, raw, and try not to be cheesy… Go. (30 seconds) I wonder what your answer was. My desire to succeed? My calling? An impulse to fulfill my destiny? Money? Sex? Food? Entertainment? Looking good? Love? God? A need for approval? Sex? Jealousy? Fame? A need to provide for my family? Competition? These answers seem appropriate enough if everyone is honest. I’m sure there are many more that I couldn’t think of even if I tried. Things like “finding a mint condition 1990 WWF Randy “Macho Man” Savage Hasbro action figure to complete my Series 1 set”. I actually think some people are driven by such things. Whatever your answer is, it is important. The answer you could come up with is in 30 seconds is important. What lies beneath that answer is also important and it could be driving you more than you know. Some people love to multitask. Some people boast about their “multitaskablility”. Now, I will do so myself. I can actually eat and drive so well that it is scary…while talking on the phone (Handsfree Bluetooth of course). See how easy it is to boast? People are not made to multitask, We are actually not that good at it. Earl Miller, a professor of neuroscience at MIT, says that for the most part, we simply can't focus on more than one thing at a time. “What we can do”, he said, “is shift our focus from one thing to the next with astonishing speed. Switching from task to task, you think you're actually paying attention to everything around you at the same time. But you're actually not," Miller said. "You're not paying attention to one or two things simultaneously, but switching between them very rapidly." "Think about writing an e-mail and talking on the phone at the same time. Those things are nearly impossible to do at the same time," he said. "You cannot focus on one while doing the other. That's because of what's called interference between the two tasks," Miller said. "They both involve communicating via speech or the written word, and so there's a lot of conflict between the two of them." Researchers say they can actually see the brain struggling. So, we are not very good at multitasking. What does that say about the way we live most of our lives? When you are a dad, usher, employee, husband, friend, son, brother, bread-winner, softball teammate, worshipper…does it ever get confusing? It does. What drives you? Most of us are driven by some desire to find happiness. Gallup asked 2,264 Americans this question: "What do you most want out of life?" The response was nearly unanimous…95 per cent said to be "happy." One of the flaws in our lifestyle is trying to do so many different things to achieve that deep hunger we have for happiness. We consider the processes of life to be the means to an end of “happiness”. I submit here and now that this way of thinking is deeply flawed. Paul said something in Galatians that is in one regard so deep I nearly cannot comprehend it. In another, it is so simple I should be slapped in the face for not “getting it” more than I have in the past. He said: Phil 1:21 21 For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. (KJV) To live is to be “Christ-like”? No. To live is to know Christ? Uh-uh. To live is telling others about Christ? Nope. To live… IS Christ. That doesn’t sound like a means to happiness. It sounds like the ultimate destination. It IS Christ. The context of this verse is even more revealing, as Paul is describing his “secret” to being content. In essence he is saying that my job at the auto body shop doesn’t just pay my bills until I can get a promotion that will enable me to buy the house that will allow me to lure the woman of my dreams so we can get married and go on a Carribean cruise which will make me happy. He is actually saying that the job at the auto body shop IS happiness. The ushering IS happiness. Having lunch with a friend on some random day IS happiness. Shopping with your wife (and refusing to hold her purse under any circumstances) IS happiness. Why? Because life WITH Christ, IS Christ. There is nothing greater. Living this way frees you from the need to find some stupid pot of gold, which apparently doesn’t increase your happiness either as surveys indicate the same level of happiness between the very rich individuals on the Forbes 400 and the Maasai herdsman of East Africa. Statistics also show that lottery winners return to their previous level of happiness after five years. This blog is not intended to cover the whole gambit of this subject. It is intended to cause you to ask yourself a few questions, to do a little soul searching. So, back to the multitasking…instead of ignoring all the small things we do in life and shifting our focus quickly from one thing to the next, put your heart, and Christ, into everything you do as if you truly believe that living is Christ. I received a text while typing this blog. I did not even look at my phone.

Letting Go

My grandfather died Sunday. His name was Gaines Curtis Flippo. If I’ve ever had mixed emotions about anyone on the planet, I had mixed emotions about Gaines Curtis Flippo, Paw-Paw.

First of all let me explain a little bit about him. For most of his life he was 6’2’’ 210 lbs. and looked like John Wayne. Actually, he sort of acted like John Wayne too. When I was 2, they had a floor furnace in their hallway that got extremely hot during the winter. The metal grates would be red hot and you had to step around them. One day I stepped on them barefooted and had to be rushed to the hospital screaming. When we got to the hospital my grandma and grandpa rushed me to the front desk and the doctor stuck his head out and told us they were full and we would have to wait our turn. Paw-Paw pulled out a .357 Magnum and busted through the double door and cocked the gun in the doctors face. I shall not repeat what he said but needless to say I was receiving extraordinary medical attention shortly thereafter.

This is the same man that found out one of my uncles was getting ribbed by his high school coach for not performing well in a particular sport. He jumped in his car and went directly to the high school where football practice was underway and then proceeded to beat the living tar out of the coach in front of his entire football team. The players were frozen with fear and did nothing. My uncle received straight A’s in that class thereafter.

He was just a mean dude. To say my grandpa and his brothers and cousins were notorious and some had even killed at times would be an understatement.

He was the greatest honkytonk piano player ever born in the opinion of many world renowned musicians. He played with Elvis and turned down the piano playing job in a group he thought would go nowhere, the group Alabama.

He was a coal miner.

The stories could go on and on.

In 1976 my grandmother was tired of the abuse and the alcoholism and the finagling that she lived with for already 20 years. So, she left him. She really left him. Moved from Birmingham to Mobile and got a job and started a new life. Well, apparently this destroyed my grandfather and he had no one to turn to. This is when he gave in to the things he had put of for so long and committed His life to Christ. My grandmother was so jaded my the Machiavellian behavior that she had endured for so long that she believed it was a ploy when she heard about it. It wasn’t. She moved back to Birmingham and recommitted her life to God and Chapter 2 of their life began. 

Until 1976 he was abusive to my mom and her brothers and my grandmother. Staggering in drunk in the middle of the night starting fights and making insane scenarios reality for a bunch of kids. The things they endured I’ve never even seen in movies. I was 4 when he got saved. I always knew him as the type of person that literally owned any room he walked into. He had thousands of jokes memorized and was the loudest man ever born…impossible to ignore. Always talking, always being loud, always talking.

It wasn’t until I was older that I learned of the things he had done to my family while they were growing up. Helpless to change the past, I became angry. Even though he became a minister for the rest of his life and touched over a hundred thousand inmates in his prison ministry, I still had a hard time accepting these things. I forgave him many years ago for the hurt he caused my family, but I don’t think I ever really gave him a fresh start. I didn’t.

When I heard of his passing I wasn’t shocked. He had struggled with his health for the last few years. I had such conflicted emotions as my thoughts drifted to my mother and my grandma and my Uncle Michael, all of whom I dearly love. My mother had a powerful moment of reconciliation with him about 6 months ago where he admitted many things he had done and he wept and asked for forgiveness. But I wondered about everyone else. What about those that didn’t hear “I’m sorry”, or “I love you”? In a way I idolized him. I remembered countless stories of his friendship with Bear Bryant and his nearly unbelievable witnessing stories of people coming to Christ. I was actually sad. But in a way I wasn’t.

I flew to Alabama to attend the funeral. Mostly to be there for my family. My Dad was performing the funeral. Mom, Dad, and my Uncle Michael came to pick me up at the airport. Within 15 minutes of doing so my Dad threw out his back and had to be taken to the emergency room. The funeral was the next day. It was soon realized that Dad would not even be able to attend, much less perform the service, so my mom and uncle asked me if I would do it. I said I would. I wasn’t sure what I would say. Would I admit my feelings or just immortalize this man that so many loved? Over a thousand people attended his viewing. People drove from all over the US. Despite his quirky ways, many loved him.

I spent the rest of the day talking with my family and listening to stories and laughing a lot. When it came time for the service, I felt like the Lord had given me what needed to be said. My mom and uncle sung a beautiful song “There Will Be Peace”, then I stood up to perform my own grandfathers funeral. As I began to speak, my voice began to quiver as I talked about a man named Saul that was a pretty mean dude. I talked about some of the things he did and some of the things he was going to do when God knocked him off his horse and got his attention. Suddenly my Dad’s story began to replay in my mind…the moment in jail where he completely gave his life to God. My own life didn’t seem too different from the man who laid lifeless a few feet behind me. I transitioned to the story of the two thieves on the cross and how both of them wanted to be saved. One demanded to be saved, and the other recognized not only the error of his ways, but the source of his salvation as being Jesus. Now I was crying. The man I had chosen to forgive just a little for most of my life had called on the same Jesus I had called on and been forgiven completely by Him. As I gave an invitational, several of my relatives and strangers committed their lives to God. Then I sat down. I cried as I watched my mother, her brothers and my grandma say goodbye. I also realized that it was time for me to let my grandfather go. Not just emotionally, but I needed to let go of any unforgiveness because I was no different than he was. I finally understood that even after Christ he wasn’t perfect. But neither am I. I needed to let that go. I did.

My grandmother, Nana, was walking away from his open coffin for the last time and she pulled me to the side. She said, “Jeffrey, you know they made him look so good and I was just looking at him, missing him, just lovin’ on him and I realized that something didn’t look right about his mouth”. I was horrified because he actually did look pretty good and thought she was going to point out some detail I’d rather her not worry about. “And as I began to stare, she continued, I figured out what it was”. “What was it Nana”? She flatly replied, “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen it closed”. I laughed so hard and so loud I know Paw-Paw would have been proud. A truer statement has never been made. Gaines Curtis Flippo turned out to be a good old guy after all. I look forward to seeing him again someday.

 

Bell-Bottoms

I've always hated bell-bottoms. My bell-bottoms used to get really dirty in the summer time. Why would Mom and Dad even let me put them on in the first place? Well, I guess because it was 1977. In the deep south people were not exactly fashion-forward, but my parents always had me wearing things that were a little ahead of the times for my small hometown. I remember exactly how dirty they used to get because of a photograph that I look at ever so often.

It was taken during a time when my parents were traveling around the country in evangelism. Me and my two year old sister stayed in Birmingham with some of my relatives. I come from a very southern, country background. Many of the stereotypes of people from the south apply perfectly. From biscuits and gravy and overalls with no undershirts, to dippin' snuff, toothless smiles, bigotry, drinking and raising hell on weekends, my relatives did it all. Although I come from a family of ministers on both sides with many men and women that loved God with all their hearts, the south inoculates you with certain things from a young age. It just does. Back to my story...

One of my relatives asked me this particular day if I wanted to ride to the store with him in his '74 Nova. That usually meant that I would be able to get candy and a Coke, (in the south "Coke" is ANY carbonated soda) so I was more than happy to do so. Not only can I still smell the vinyl seats on the way there, I can still hear Kenny Rogers singing "Lucille" on the radio as we rode with the windows down in the stifling Alabama heat.

When we pulled up to the old country store I ran inside and got my favorite combination, Lemonheads and Mountain Dew. After they had been paid for I was told to go wait outside while my relative talked with a mechanic friend out back. This didn't bother me a bit because I love exploring. I ran out front and started doing just that. It wasn't too long before I had "discovered" a barbed wire fence next to the store that led into a pretty big open field. I decided that it might yet be awhile so I climbed over it. Those darned bell bottoms. They got caught in the fence and the bottoms were torn. I was stuck. I struggled to try and get up but it was no use. Just as I was about to cry, strong and powerful hands lifted me right up in the air and set me back down on the ground. It was pretty surreal. As I tried to get my bearings, I saw that the man who had lifted me was not only a stranger, but a black man. My parents and many of my relatives had always been very kind to all people, but I can honestly say in all the years we were a part of the particular denomination we were affiliated with, the only black people I ever talked to were from the islands. The only times I ever saw them were at the annual General Assembly where every church in the organization met in one city to celebrate. My life was, for lack of a better word, segregated.

When this good Samaritan set me down I was embarrassed at my clumsiness. "You ripped your pants pretty good there son". He was so friendly. "Yes sir that hurt a little". He grinned, "Is that your Mountain Dew over there"? "Yes sir. You want some"? His eyes lit up when I asked that question. I remember the conversation like it was yesterday. When we walked back over to the side of the store, I thanked the man for helping me and he was very kind about the whole thing. I really didn't think too much about giving him my drink or even offering him some Lemonheads. (He turned those down) We talked for a few minutes and I remember enjoying the conversation until...the relative I was telling you about called out my name to the top of his lungs. I was scared but I answered. When he saw who I was talking to, he began to swear unlike anything I had ever heard. I remember he actually noticed my pants were torn, and despite my effort to tell him what happened he began to cuss this poor man out. This relative of mine was always a natural born brawler (a trait I wish I had not inherited) and he always seemed to be looking for a fight. I started crying because in some weird way I knew what was going on...even at 5 years old. He screamed for me to go get back in the car and I ran to the car as fast as I could.

Country music still blared on the radio in the car as I started to cry. After a few minutes, my relative stormed into the car and sped out of the driveway like a maniac. He yelled at me and told me to never talk to that type of person again and he started making speeches to me. I remember not only thinking he was wrong but also realizing what an idiot he was. He finally shut up and I remember him telling me that I should not tell anyone about the incident. I didn't.

I will never know exactly what happened to that kind stranger who helped me that day. I will never know his story, his favorite candy, nor his name. I will only ever know that he helped me when I was a little boy. 

I will not go into detail about my life as a young man growing into adulthood and my experience forming lifelong friendships with people of all colors and races, but I will tell one more story. 

My daughter Mia was watching a football game with me on Sunday. She made a simple observation about the particular team we were watching. She said, "Daddy, everyone on that team has dark skin". I said, "that's true darlin', everyone we see right now does have dark skin, but all types of people play football". Before I had finished my answer she had already shifted her attention back to the perfectly arrayed row of ponies underneath my recliner. I laughed out loud because my daughter is extremely intelligent and I realized that she referred to the players as "men with dark skin". In six years of her life, she has never been faced with a reason to distinguish one person from another, therefore she has needed no word to describe this difference. 

Today I watched Barack Obama become the 44th president of the United States of America. I watched people of every imaginable race, over 2 million, smiling, waving American flags, believing there is a place for themselves in this country. Tears streamed down my face as I remembered my childhood story, how far I have come...how far this nation has come.

Like my daughter pointed out, there are obvious differences in the world. Those differences do not have to be ugly however. There will always be racism. Ignorance can cause people to fear and hate things that are different than they are. Differences though, can be beautiful. Look at Revelation 5:9. Heaven itself is painted with diversity. Revelation 5:9 9      And they sung a new song, saying, You are worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for you were slain, and have redeemed us to God by your blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation. I am not saying America has arrived. Nor am I saying that the mall in Washington represents Utopia. I am saying America has turned a corner. Today was special. This is about years of hate being upended by years of love. It will take not just love in a general sense, but the love of God to finish what was started here today. It will take the love of God to compassionately but boldly stand against modern injustices in the world. We turned a corner today, let's keep on going and see where God may lead us if we are humble enough to follow Him as a nation. In America let the word minority forever represent a percentage, not the value of a man. Someday, in heaven, I hope to see the man that helped me that day. He was kind and compassionate. I would like to give him a hug and find out what his story is like, what his favorite candy is, what his name is. I would like him to see me as a grown man who loves all people and I would like him to know he helped in accomplishing this. I just hope when I meet him I am not wearing bell-bottoms.

Christmas Shopping at the Mall

By: Jeffrey Smith Diverse faces in passage Tragic, damaged, hopeful, amused, vitriolic, oblivious. Souls compete for matter in tiny spaces The tangible becomes frivolous in the greater scheme With no regard for one another the mission is now a paradox Mathematics become fuzzy For the ones I know, love equals x But for these love equals…well, it just doesn’t seem to apply Even the strangers in the semi-circle see right through each other Nevertheless, off I go… I finished.

Love in Transit

     This past weekend I went to Traverse City Michigan with a friend of mine to a conference for fathers. It has been awhile since I've been in and out of airports for 2 days. Something really jumped out at me after a couple of days talking to other travelers and sharing my faith. People are so desperate for hope that they will generally put up with the idea of being uncomfortable for a few minutes, if someone who really cares conveys the truth in a loving way. I have shared my faith most of my life, but I admit at times I lose the motivation to deal with questions.       Let me encourage you if you feel that same way. Share your faith. Don't be afraid to ask people what they believe. It doesn't have to be some dramatic thing. It should be part of our daily lives. "As you go, proclaim the good news." (Matt. 10:7) Hmmm as you go. That is pretty intense. Stop waiting for a stadium filled with lost souls and someone to hand you a mic, and love the person next to you in line. Ask someone if there is anything you can pray about, or better yet, ask them if they know the Lord. What's the worst that could happen? You may not know an answer? That can happen while watching Jeopardy.