My friend, Barbara, who lives in northeast Georgia, had a vivid dream back in August. In the dream she was decorating her home for Christmas. She knew it was December. She was stringing lights and placing pine boughs and candles on shelves. She was also setting several tables with plates and silverware, in expectation of a big gathering. At the close of the dream she took a big cake out of a box and set it on a table. The cake had big letters on it, in icing, that said, "REJOICE." The dream ended when she put the cake on the table. When she woke up she knew the Lord was telling her clearly: "You will rejoice in December."
Churches have been on lockdown for months. COVID-19 forced us to go virtual, and the pandemic has turned pastors into awkward television evangelists who preach to empty auditoriums using smartphones. Now, more than six months after the shutdown, some congregations are reopening—with masks, social distancing and even temperature checks. Instead of hearing a worship leader say, "Turn to the person next to you and give them a hug!" we have learned to smile and bump elbows—or maybe not. We also have noticed that a large percentage of church members haven't returned.
This week I did a video call with a gifted young man named Billy who serves on the staff of a growing church in South Africa. He has a big heart of compassion for people. He knows how to make disciples. And he's a great communicator. I told him I would love it if he were my pastor, even though he's only 32. But as I encouraged him, and many young leaders like him, I'm aware that ministry is not an easy assignment. Like everything else in life, it's full of risks. And I want to make sure anyone out there who is praying about stepping into ministry knows what they will face.
Unless you've been hiding under a rock for three months, you know gasoline is at record low prices. I paid $1.25 a gallon last week in Georgia. Some states are reporting prices below a dollar a gallon. There are two reasons for the price drop: Not as many people are buying gasoline because of the pandemic, and Russia and Saudi Arabia are engaged in a price war, causing the oil supply to swing up. Market analysts say they've never seen such a glut of oil. As I pondered this situation a few days ago the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart and said: "Now is the time to fill up."
Back in March when the COVID-19 crisis erupted, the U.S. government created a website called "coronavirus rumor control." It was an attempt to squash some of the bizarre theories people were hearing, including the bogus idea that the National Guard was being dispatched, with machine guns and tanks, to force everyone to stay inside their homes. This rumor about martial law kept spreading—like a virus, of course—and it spawned more conspiracy theories. People posted their fears on social media.
I'm an extrovert. I thrive when I'm around people. I love crowds and parties. I prefer a minimum of seven hugs a day and I'm known to have two and three-hour conversations with friends. That's why I'm miserable right now, in this era of "social distancing." Telling me to stay away from other human beings is like depriving me of food. I hate it. But I get it. I know we have to protect others from the spread of the dreaded coronavirus. I'm washing my hands. I'm limiting contact. My travel schedule has been cleared. I know I have to tolerate some cabin fever until the worst kind of fever is no longer a threat.
I spent this past weekend with a group of younger guys from the Washington, D.C. area. Most of them were in their mid to late 20s and early 30s, the age of my own kids. All but two of them were single. And even though I am twice their age they loved being with me. I've been texting several of them since our three-day retreat. There is no generation gap between us. We genuinely enjoyed being together, whether we were worshipping the Lord, building a bonfire, sharing meals or staying up late and talking about their biggest struggles.
As you step into 2020, reset your priorities and make it your goal to spend time with God. When I was a teenager, my mentor, Barry, taught me to have a daily devotional time with God. This has become the single most important habit in my life, and I'm convinced no one can grow as a Christian without it. I memorized Proverbs 8:34 when I was just 18: "Blessed is the man who hears me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors." I started getting up early and praying in my college dorm room.
Football is a religion in the South, where I grew up. Every boy I knew dreamed of becoming a star quarterback. When my relatives gathered for meals, the conversation usually revolved around whether Auburn would beat Alabama that year. I felt like sliding under my chair during those moments. I was not a football player—and there was no chance of me becoming one. I didn't have big enough biceps to throw a 50-yard pass, and I didn't have the frame to tackle a 200-pound guy. I felt like a wimp. I assumed that when God handed out physical talents, I was stuck at the back of the line.
Three years ago this month, my wife and I packed our belongings and made the biggest move of our lives. After living in Florida for 24 years, we pulled up our roots and relocated to Georgia. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done because I'm a sentimental guy who gets very attached to people and places. Yet I found extra grace for this transition because I knew I was following the Holy Spirit. Counselors say relocation is one of the most stressful things in life—ranking right up there with the death of a loved one. It's a huge combination of stressors—selling a house, buying or renting a new house, hiring movers, leaving friends and stepping into the dark unknown. Not fun!
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