I had lunch with a friend today who is in the middle of seminary. The occasion has caused me to reflect a little on my life, how I became a Christian and why I became a pastor.

When I titled this blog, I had in mind a reference by Brennan Manning in his book The Ragamuffin Gospel. While not a perfect book by any stretch of the imagination, Manning really speaks to the heart of those who struggle with faith.

I'm considering resurrecting my blog.  Now that the blog world has slowed down in favor of facebook and twitter, I may go retro and blog for a change.  Hmmm...If you're interested, keep an eye out for deep thoughts.

The Morgan Journey has been changed! Please follow this link to see the new site. Clck Here.

I had a really strange yet vivid dream last night.

I'm riding in a car with Anna Bedsole. We are headed to Atlanta to visit a physical therapist. (huh?)

Note: I saw Anna the other day and I’ve been seeing a physical therapist (Grand Master Funk) to rehab my knee.

As we arrive, I see that the area is very upscale. All the store fronts are brick with the feel of an old English village.

After Anna and I arrive, I discover that the Physical Therapist is actually a dentist. Anna goes in for her visit, and I walk around the neighborhood. To the right of the dentist is a cafeteria run by a middle age bald white man. The cafeteria consists of a couple of rooms with the expected buffet type steam tables. All of the tables are filled with food, but all the food is covered with stainless steel tops. My impression is that the cafeteria isn't getting much business. The bald man is walking around yelling and being bossy.

As I exit the cafeteria I turn and walk in front of the dentist office and around the corner. The first business on the right is a department store. I walk in and am met by a young lady who offers me a store credit card. I refuse and tell her that I can't afford to buy anything from that store.

I continue down the street, around another corner. The entire next block on both sides of the street is occupied by the Sherwin Williams paint company. The buildings are painted bright blue. I stick my head in the door and look at a few items………….

I awake to the sound of a child coming down the steps. Bella comes into my room and says that she can’t find her pillow. It’s 5 a.m. I walk her back upstairs and send her to the potty. Her pillow is on her bed. I tuck her in and head back to bed.

Somehow we are still in the same village. Anna has disappeared and I am walking with a group of people doing something political. We are assigned specific areas, and I am asking people to vote, or complete a census or something similar. I am not selling anything, but performing a community service.

I walk into a house, down the steps and into a room. There is a painting on the far wall. It’s not a painting anymore but a real place. There are mountains and high column like peaks with restaurants and resorts on top. The columns are very narrow and the buildings on top hang over the edges. There is a cable stretching into the distance that rises toward the peaks, and although no cable car is seen, there is no doubt that this is the only way up. The scene/place is beautiful.

I step closer and the place disappears. I see that the place is actually an art work made of rags and clothing. I leave excitedly to find Laura and show her this wonder.

End of dream

I had a root beer before going to bed. I am reading the first Harry Potter book. I watched some of the Olympics last night …

G

I’ve had this old song stuck in my head for the past week. I’ve tried all I can to expunge it from my thoughts, but it keeps coming back. I knew that the situation had deteriorated to the crisis stage when I heard Bella walking around singing it!

I remember talking to a friend a month or so ago about my struggles to remember the Gospel in the middle of stressful times. One of the things he recommend for me to do was to involve myself in the ways of remembering that work for me. For me that would be music.

I really love music and lyrics stick in my head forever. Good and bad.

I’ve posted the lyrics to the brain infecting song from this week. As you look over them, you will realize that this song is a virtual bastion of bad theology. Some truth, yes, but overall it’s a treatise on the relativity of all truth except what your feelings tell you.

My challenge is to be careful what I proclaim to my soul. The mind is the guard of the heart and I easily let other gospels in my mind. Other gospels? Yes. They creep in and infect my thoughts of what is true. I preach to myself of the uncertainty of life, of the need for validation, of the primacy of my reputation, of the inadequacy of God…

Strangely, with these sermons resonating in my mind, I find it difficult to love others. I am concerned with myself and my rights. I spend my resources, time, talent, treasure on me. I must ensure my well being. I must demand credit for good deeds, I must have my way. (I told you country music was bad for the soul!)

But, there is another song. A song to be sung, proclaimed, remembered.

The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.
Zeph. 3:17

Loud singing!!! The Father is very fond of me!

G

The Song: I Believe in You by Don Williams

I don't believe in superstars,
Organic food and foreign cars.
I don't believe the price of gold;
The certainty of growing old.
That right is right and left is wrong,
That north and south can't get along.
That east is east and west is west.
And being first is always best.

But I believe in love.
I believe in babies.
I believe in Mom and Dad.
And I believe in you.

Well, I don't believe that heaven waits,
For only those who congregate.
I like to think of God as love:
He's down below, He's up above.
He's watching people everywhere.
He knows who does and doesn't care.
And I'm an ordinary man,
Sometimes I wonder who I am.

But I believe in love.
I believe in music.
I believe in magic.
And I believe in you.

Well, I know with all my certainty,
What's going on with you and me,
Is a good thing.
It's true, I believe in you.

I don't believe virginity,
Is as common as it used to be.
In working days and sleeping nights,
That black is black and white is white.
That Superman and Robin Hood,
Are still alive in Hollywood.
That gasoline's in short supply,
The rising cost of getting by.

But I believe in love.
I believe in old folks.
I believe in children.
I believe in you.

But I believe in love.
I believe in babies.
I believe in Mom and Dad.
And I believe in you.

For some reason, AJ thought it was funny that the bottom of my ninja suit was open in the back. Strange huh?

“Seven Deacons and the Pastor got saved, and twenty-five thousand dollars got raised, and fifty volunteered for missions in the Congo on the spot. Even without an invitation, there were about 500 rededications, and we all got re-baptized, whether we needed it or not” Ray Stevens

Funny Song. It’s about how a squirrel went berserk in the first up-righteous church. Confession and repentance were the result… with a tinge of rededication.

I sometimes feel as though my soul is the sleepy little town that has forgotten what real faith looks like. Words like up-righteous, self-righteous, indignation, self-pity, laziness, condemnation, fear, control… seem to be much more descriptive of me than the picture of love that should be my image.

Being a closet existentialist, I struggle to believe a truth that doesn’t feel true. The guarantee of God’s goodness to me, the reality of His transforming presence in me, the surety of His love, all these things can be fleeting doctrines with little meaning.

Or…..is that just the loud voice of a determined enemy? The war is real. My flesh tells me that these lies are true, that I am unacceptable. My joy is sapped, my vision clouds.

I can tell, sometimes, when I’m believing the lie. I get anxious, defensive, depressed, angry, critical, demanding, selfish…

And then the voice of a friend “joy begins with repentance”. It is here that true joy resonates in my life. Through repentance the Father’s song of delight is heard and faith comes; inseparable, unavoidable, Spirit-wrought.

G

I need to succeed, perform well, avoid failure, avoid a bad decision. I feel pressure. I'm intense, hurried. It's a horrible bondage to need to succeed. Failure is OVERrated as a problem, and succeeding is OVERrated as a blessing. Because. An addiction to succeeding is like any other addiction: you need more. The enemy couldn't be more pleased to have us Christians indifferent to the success/righteousness/performance of Jesus that's imputed to us, while we obsess over some of our own, by puny human power, in partnership with me, myself and I, thereby impotent at loving the nonChristians around us as they need to be loved.

Dave McCarty

Ulysses Everett McGill

Today baby Witt Floyd was baptized.

Baptism is a means of grace. In other words, it is one of two sacraments, (the Lord's Supper being the other) that is a means that God uses to convey grace upon His people. The sacraments are a visual representation of God's word, the Gospel.

I realized today that I often think of Baptism as a means of grace for the one being baptized and not for the congregation. How wrong. Baptism is a holding up of the Gospel in the same way as the Lord's Supper, yet different. In Baptism, I am reminded of my helpless state, I am encouraged by the covenant promises of God, I am captured by the love of God for sinners like Witt, like me.

My family spent the afternoon with the Floyds, their family and several families from our church. We hung out, ate perfectly grilled chicken, played with the babies... and experienced something that Baptism gives, unity. We were all the same, all without reputation, without power, without hope, except for Jesus.

G

Moody today. I don't know what is going on. I'm recovering slowly from knee surgery. Its not really bothering me too much. I don't have any patience with the kids. Their failures are magnified in my eyes. Not good.

The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love. So a failure of love (all the law summarized) is actually a failure of faith. In essence, I'm not believing well today. No humility, no brokeness.

Unbelief can be a persistent companion sometimes. I find that I can't make myself believe. Yet this is the work given to us by Christ (see John 6). Faith begins with brokeness, repentance. I need a clearer view of my sin. I'm not so keen on the idea.

G

Hey guys

Thought I would poke my head in and see what is happening in blog land.

I am having an interesting week. Knee surgery on Wednesday has left me a non-contributor on the home front. Basically, I sit around in the bedroom, eat chocolate and let my wife wait on me. I'm thinking about quitting my day job!

That's enough for now. I'm exhausted

G

But I have posted on the Morgan Journey. Click over there>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Yes, I am on somewhat of a blog vacation. However, I do realize that there are many blog addicts out there graving for someone to make a new post. I hope that reading this has given you sufficient relief from the jobs that your employers think you are doing.

Later
G

Hey everyone!

Laura is trying to post Ireland trip updates on her blog. Please click her link over in the right column. We are changing locations today and don't know if we will have computer access at the new joint. Hope to see you soon!

Later

G