Bob's Locker Room Blog

Relevance through Relationship

bob morton — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 20:41:31 GMT

I spoke at a ski retreat this past weekend for a group of local churches. As I often do when speaking to the same group more than once, I opened my first session with a little bit about my own personal journey. Now, over the years, I've gotten pretty good at doing this. I recognize that as my story gets longer, there comes a need to streamline the message of God's work in my life, trimming a bit of time from each of my often lengthy tales and fixiating on only a few life highlights. During my streamlined storytelling this past weekend, I chose for one to highlight my move from Massachusetts to Texas, referencing the year during which it happened, which sent me in a spiral from which I almost ne'er returned.

My family moved between my middle and high school years. That was back in 1998. I remember the trip as if it was yesterday, and I remember a lot about my life from those days. Still, that didn't fix the shock that came across my face when I realized, upon mentioning the year 1998, that I trekked the miles between Massachusetts and Texas before many of the students to which I was speaking were born. I froze. I looked nervously around the room and came up with a joke about how I must be getting old, and I finished by exhaling the words, "how am I still relevant?"

The good news from the weekend is that I finished strong. I preached as boldly as I could muster, and challenged this group of 12-17 year olds to walking in in the footsteps of Christ. The bad news form the weekend is that I was haunted, as I venture back into youth ministry, by the question of how I am going to be relevant to teenagers in the years that are still to come? It took a heart-to-heart with one of my RA's to finally allow me to breathe freely again.

I realize now that the role of a youth pastor is not to be the cool guy that relates to every student. I never held the illusion that I had to be that guy. If I was hired on the basis that I was cool, then Avalon Missionary Church is in for a rude awakening. I believe the role of the youth pastor is to be, among other things, available, accessible, and appropriately cool. My relevance has nothing to do with how well I share the same lingo or sense of humor, and everything to do with whether or not I am present when 1) I say I will be present, and 2) When I am needed to be present. It is through a long-term relationship that my relevance in the lives of students and young people will grow when a snapshot of age suggests it will diminish. It is with this notion of relevance through relationship, that I re-enter excitedly into the world of youth ministry. Here we go!

Peace,
Bob

Born-Again Mummies

bob morton — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 06:13:00 GMT

During Session #4 of Bethel College's World Christian Action Conference, our speaker Connie Bissen referenced a verse in John 11 when Jesus called Lazarus up and out of his tomb. While I failed to grasp the direction that Connie took this passage, I did spend a good deal of time reflecting on what implications it has for our lives as Believers.

"Then Jesus shouted, 'Lazarus, come out!'

And the dead man came out, his hands and

feet bound in graveclothes, his head wrapped

in a headcloth. Jesus told them, 'Unwrap him

and let him go!'" (John 11:43-44; NLT)

While driving back from the airport this morning, I listened to a pastor on the radio speak very frankly about being "born twice." I don't know his name, nor do I know his church, but I loved how simple he made it:

"You're either born once or born twice.

Born once, you're blind. Born twice, you can see.

Born once, you're lost. Born twice, you're found.

Born once, you belong to the Devil. Born twice, you belong to God.

Born once, you're dead. Born twice, you're alive."

As simple as this equation is, I know many of us struggle with what happens in our lives once we are "born twice." You see, like Lazarus we experience death to ourselves and receive resurrection through Christ. Too often though, we take off into our lives as newfound children still wearing the cloths we donned in the grave. We walk around our world as mummies, experiencing life, but we reak of our lives past. We do not allow the Lord to purge us of all our sinful nature and the things that tempt us backwards.

This is why Paul writes to the church in Colossae:

"...put to death the sinful, earthly things lurking

within you...You used to do these things when

your life was still part of this world...Put on your

new nature, and be renewed as you learn to

know your Creator and become like him." (Colossians 3:5,7,10; NLT)

So what are some of the cloths draping your body that have been with you since the grave? Do they exist in the form of relationships or circles of friends? Are they items or substances that, at one point, you couldn't live without? Are they possibly things that look very nice and ornate, things that look great in your second life, but things that God has called you to leave behind?

Lord, give us the strength to rid ourselves of these bindings. If we should lack the strength, give us the humility to ask others to unwrap us, so we may go. Thank you for this life eternal, for overcoming death, that we may have life.

Humbly His,

Bobby Morton

A group, a generation, a gender...of settlers?

bob morton — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 06:11:00 GMT

"What do you want to do, Bob?"

It's a question that I hear from almost every angle. Whether it is asked by friend or family member; colleague or college student; it is a question that I have wrestled with answering on a regular basis since I stepped away from youth ministry to further my education and pursue ministry at the collegiate level. I was asked the question again tonight, but none of the aforementioned groups did the asking...

Sitting in a seat in Bethel's Everest-Rohrer Auditorium, I was asked by Caleb Bislow to take a moment to "ShushUpAndListen." Following his sermon on how God moves us towards our mission and purpose, he allowed us time to seek where and how God would have us carry out such a mission. As I watched student after student make their way to the altar, I began to see they all had one thing in common. Each student that responded in the moment was a young woman. Even after a morning session where Caleb rebuked the men of Bethel College for being passive participants in God's world mission, none of them seemed emotionally connected to the message.

Now, I'm not assuming that every man in that place suffered from a stroke of disobedience, or that there weren't individuals responding in the quietness of their hearts and seats, but as Chandler Bing screams during a season 6 episode of FRIENDS, "where are all the men?!"

It was there in that moment, that I remembered the cause for which I stepped away from middle school ministry. My passion, or rather my burden is for these men who are stuck in a generation of undefined masculinity. Do I know what makes a man? Surely not to the extent I'd like to assume. However, I do know that the men I've been raised in Christ to emulate chose to stand and fight for something, rather than settling for nothing. It's my prayer that we don't raise and accompany a group, a generation, or a gender of settlers.

This ends my random thought of the night.

Humbly His,

Bob Morton

I'm Sweaty

bob morton — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 13:23:00 GMT

It feels good to sweat. I'm sitting outdoors, post-workout, in 90 degree heat, wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the sole purpose of feeling myself sweat a bit more. I don't know the exact rhyme or reason why I like it, but I just know it feels, whether through physical exertion or overheating, as though my body is being productive; as if something is being accomplished. It is a reminder that as hard as I've worked my body at times, my body is working me; that it's been designed to keep me cool and able to operate. But even more important than that, the sweat is a mark of success. It's as much an identification of hard work and tireless effort as any medal, plaque, or trophy could ever hope to be. I'll go back to my apartment tonight and admire the newly acquired stains on my favorite workout hoodie, knowing full well it is the sign of a day well spent...and a job well done. Yeah, I like to sweat. Hopefully, you'll see the marks on my life, both physically and spiritually.

1Timothy 4:7-8 (ESV)
"Have nothing to do with irreverant, silly myths. Rather, train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also the life to come."

Why the hesitation?

bob morton — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 17:46:00 GMT

Have you ever been a part of something good, but you find yourself hesitating? I mean a part of something good and Godly, and you know it's meant to happen, but you find yourself acting fearful; fearful of what you might do, and fearful of what God might do to you. That's how I feel when I get together with my friend, Chris.

Chris and I are meeting every other Tuesday as part of an idea of accountability in the area of evangelism. The past couple meetings have been erratic, but truly blessed by God, as I find myself renewed over and over again. I love Chris, I love his ideas for life, and I love how he impacts my way of thinking and living. Every time I leave our time together, I feel as though I've been reignited for the cause of Christ. Why then, do I find myself hesitating?

I told you we meet every Tuesday night. What I left out was that every Tuesday afternoon, I find myself wanting to do something other than meet with him. I don't want to bail on him or leave him hanging, but I get distracted and busy. It frustrates me to think that the Devil has worked his way into my schedule, and I feel in need of a re-commitment of my time and energy, bringing it all back to a focus on the Lord.

I know it's been forever since my last post, and I know this isn't an in-depth reveal as to what's been going on in my life, but I want to use this blog as an avenue to communicate my heart...and that's how my heart feels today.

In love,

Bobby

Just a Redtail

bob morton — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 09:13:00 GMT

I was cruising through the quaint campus of Bethel College when I saw a bit of a humorous sight. A faculty member who I recognized from Noon Hoops (our Monday, Wednesday, Friday staff basketball club) was walking alongside the street waving a white towel. To provide a further visual, he wasn't waving it in a manner to get attention, but rather as an old country cook would shake a towel to shoo away pesky animals wanting a taste of newly baked creations. Needless to say, I had to put Valerie (my truck) in park and take in the sight.

A minute or two (or five) later, I saw what the faculty member was up to. He was chasing a hawk. That's right, a hawk! Now, you may be wondering how a man can chase a hawk on foot, while shaking a towel. Let me fill you in on the situation. Apparently the hawk had been resting on a telephone pole and received quite the shock from the power lines. Falling a few dozen feet took its toll, breaking the hawk's wing. The faculty member was, for lack of a better time, wrangling the hawk in an effort to save its life.

(Fast Forward)

Did you really think I would be able to stay in my car for this? No way! I got a bright blue towel out of my back seat and ran across the street in an effort to help catch this bird of prey. And guess what, we caught it! Well, let me clarify, the professor caught it. I merely stood there saying, "Get him! No, Now! Oh, you missed him! Oh, Oh, You Got Him!" I helped a lot. The conversation that took place while the hawk rested in the professor's arm (like a newborn baby) inspired this blog post.

Background info: I'm in awe of big birds. Other than Canadian Geese, which I'd like to see pass away in a violent fashion, I love birds that are bigger than my head. Their size makes me respect them even more. So with this bird merely inches from me, I'm fixated on it, and I couldn't help but giggle when I pet its head. The professor was much less excited than I. He has an extensive history with large birds, and he questioned whether or not this bird would even be accepted by the rehabilitator, because once rehabilitated, it would still not fly, and it wouldn't be accepted as a pet (which is legal). My giddy self asked why anyone would pass up on an opportunity to have such an amazing bird as a pet, and the professor filled me in on the fact that this was "Just a Redtail Hawk."

Now, I'm still a bit unsure what this means, but apparently it's a very common hawk, and therefore not a big deal. This flipped me out! I was head over heels in awe of this hawk, and it was just another bird to this professor. After the ordeal, as I drove home, I took an inventory of my life. What things do I have, see, or experience in my life that would cause other people in the world would flip out? And though I'm not criticizing this professor, because this is different, how have I allowed myself to become so accustomed to the extraordinary?! Here's the list I came up with. I hope you enjoy/relate and take an inventory of your life so that we can thank the Lord for the blessings we have but barely even see.

- a car bought made in the past 10 years
- two TVs
- surround sound
- laptop (currently using)
- leather furniture
- iPods (two)
- over 1500 songs
- 50+ DVDs
- 20+ pairs of shoes
- an entire dresser full of shirts (just shirts)
- cell phone (PDA no less)
- 3 meals a day
- Health Benefits
- clean drinking water
- hundreds of other drink choices
- clean meat
- 100+ owned books
- 15+ Bibles

How have I let myself look into the eyes of these hawks without standing in awe?

Love,

Bobby

Back from Nicaragua

bob morton — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 14:35:00 GMT

I'm back and quasi-recovered from my trip to Nicaragua. After a week of physical, emotional, and spiritual tests and trials, I still feel the need for a few extra days rest, but I also feel spiritually rejuvenated in a way that I haven't in quite some time. The week was filled with highs and lows, but even now, the lows are becoming harder and harder to remember.

Right now, I am in the midst of moving out of my office at Grace Church, but I have a drafted entry to post in the coming couple of days.

Hang tight 'til the weekend!

Bobby

Little Update

bob morton — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 17:50:00 GMT

Let me start by exclaiming that I am, in fact, alive! I praise God for his faithfulness in delivering me from any and all dangers in Jamaica and here in Indiana for the past few weeks. It has been quite some time since I have left you any pieces of my heart, but that has been with good cause. I have been in the midst of a vocational transition (job change), and I have wanted to profess this to my students by mouth prior to having it posted on the internet. Don't get too excited, though. I'm not going to give you too many juicy details today. In the coming days/week, you will have a recap of my trip to Jamaica, a summary of my trip to Nicaragua, and information about the job change, but today, I want to share with you a revelation that God granted me last night.

I'd heard through a friend that an old teammate of mine respected my 'game.' That may not seem like a lot, but for a washed-up has been like myself, it's good to know that someone that close to me thought highly of how I played. Hearing these words brought me back to my freshman year in college, when I was a redshirting 17 year old, watching the all-american Jeff Faine suit up week after week. You see, Jeff was all that was football. While others left the field early, he stayed to work on footwork. When other linemen ate pizzas and cake, he peeled the skin off his chicken breast. And when other linemen had mental lapses during a game, Jeff Faine hurt people...often. I wanted nothing but to play a game like Jeff Faine played it.

My sophomore year, I won the chance to play in Jeff's old spot, at center. I'll never forget that first game. Last night, I had a vivid memory of calling my dad after the game. "What did I look like, Dad?" was the question that spilled out time and time again, "How did I play the game?"

"Like Faine," he answered, "You played that game like Jeff." Oh, what wondrous words for my ears to hear. My dad thought I played the game like the one who taught me how to play it. That's where the reminiscing ceased. The Lord worked on my heart in such a way that I broke down last night. Thinking about that conversation with my dad, I realized that I have since stopped having that conversation with God.

"Father, did you see me? How did I look?"

"Like Jesus, son. You looked like Jesus."

Oh, what wondrous words they'd be to hear. That I have lived life, treated others, and loved like the One who has taught me how to do it. Jeff Faine was and is an amazing football player, but he pales in comparison to the mastery that Jesus has over this world. If only my mind would realize that daily.

Jamaica

bob morton — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 13:56:00 GMT

Have you ever experienced a person speaking out of both sides of their mouth? They tell you one thing, then lean over to someone else and say something completely different. In my short time today, I want to tell you that's how I feel about the country of Jamaica right now. I feel as though the culture of the country is double-talking. One moment, I'm "the Undertaker," a cool white dude who gets "peace and love" from the most random of people. The next moment, I'm a fat, balloon shaped, pistachio, who's only good for trying to pick a fight with (which has happened a few times).

It's been an emotionally trying trip thus far in Jamaica, and as we leave some civilization, I don't know what to expect. I don't know if I'll be more accepted, or less, more pressured with marijuana or less. All I know is that I'm prayed up, and read up, and I feel confident in my preparedness to take on the challenges in front of me.

Pray for our group in Jamaica. Michelle's dad is still in the hospital, but is now off life support, and Candace's boyfriend's mom underwent brain surgery this morning. My big prayer request is for the scratch I feel in the back of my throat...sorry to be so anticlimactic.

Peace and Love,

Bob

Moving day upcoming

bob morton — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 16:08:00 GMT

The date was July 1, 2005. The cohort in crime was Jeff Myers. The act was moving into a newly leased apartment on Winamac Lake at Indian Lakes Apartments in Mishawaka, IN. It was the first step I'd taken into a life of my own. I was still in college, but no longer on campus. I was still getting help footing the bill, but no longer from my parents. I was growing up, and that apartment would have a lot to do with it.

That year was possibly the best year of my life, to that point. Nights went late, movies were watched, music was listened to, the occasional stogie was sparked, and songs were sung referring to the sheer awkwardness that accompanied life. Granted, there was a short spell during which I had nightmares about someone breaking into the place, but that ended with an interesting and hilarious event involving me, a girl standing no taller than 5'2", and a near-death experience with a 3-iron. Those days couldn't last forever, though.

The next year was spent on the other side of Winamac Lake. I'd moved out of my first apartment and into a modified single, with a huge living room, so that my family would all have a space to stay when they came up to see me play for my 5th year at Notre Dame. My parents would take my room, my brother would take a futon, and I'd grab the couch. It was perfect, because they'd booked tickets for every home game. The only problem was, my dad didn't make it to the first game. I spent a year in that oversized apartment dealing with the feeling of being very alone. The last few months though, the Lord provided for that lack of fellowship I'd been experiencing.

The final two months on Winamac Lake were spent with a new roommate, who lived on a futon in the back half of the living room. Ryan and I met through some mutual friends and just hit it off. We actually leased a two bedroom place on the other side of Indian Lakes. We had moved into a place on Osage Lake (which isn't much of a lake at all...it looks like someone left the hose on for a few hours). The past year has been spent doing very little but sleeping in that apartment. Ryan and I get up, go to work, come back home, and go to bed. Occasionally we'll have a group of friends over for a BBQ, and sometimes I'll come home and he and his girlfriend will be eating dinner, but the majority of our time is spent elsewhere. That said, the times we've had in the apartment, while both awake...and coherent, have been a blast. But we've reached another turning point, as our lease ends in just over two weeks.

We'll be parting ways, Ryan and I, but I've gotten used to yearly changes in roomming situations. The big change for me is living somewhere other than Indian Lakes. I've grown accustomed to how things are done, how situations are handled, and how the people around me interact. It will be another new experience for me, moving to another location (to be revealed next week).

It excites me though, to be pushed out of my comfort zone. While my comfort allows me to do a lot, I wonder what it holds me back from doing. Maybe, just maybe this move will push my limits in other areas of life as well. So I ask you, are you comfortable? Maybe a little bit too comfortable?

You are Everything

bob morton — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 14:17:00 GMT

I sat in my office this morning and hit repeat on a song. I shut my door, turned up the volume, and dove into the truth of the lyrics to the Matthew West song, "You are Everything." There's so much beauty in the image that is cast by the words to the song, but I just couldn't get over the first few words of the chorus. "You are everything that I live for." You know, I live for so much junk, it hurts to admit. Money, security, gratification, popularity, humor, and the list goes on describing things that I live/have lived for in my life. How different could my life be tomorrow if I made the Lord everything and the only thing I lived for, today?

How might my relationships with others change? Would I spill moment after moment into their lives and refuse to look at it like some sort of investment with a future return? Maybe I could be called selfless for the first time of my life. Maybe, just maybe, we could experience the kind of fellowship together that makes outsiders glorify God, like in Acts 2.

How might my approach to my job change? If I'm no longer living to make a living, I release myself of financial expectations and enable myself to look at my job as so much more than a job. It becomes a means to live for God...a calling, if you will. How much more willing are we to work at a calling than work at an ordinary job? I can't imagine how that might change my daily impact.

How might my alone-time change? So often, I get run down, and I need to curl up on my chair with a good book, just to recuperate. If God is EVERYTHING that I live for, that alone time becomes much more a one-on-one time. I don't live to be alone. I live to have one-on-one moments with God during every part of my everyday. I would more faithfully and passionately dive into scripture and prayer, turning my life over to Him daily.

I came to my job this morning, ready to do an ordinary day's work, and the Lord changed my heart. How can we live for God alone today, and in our days to come?

Laugh, Cry, Hug, Love

bob morton — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 13:56:00 GMT

Okay look, I'm about to write a very serious note. It may seem as though I'm fishing for a response. I'm not. But if I want this blog to be about anything other than funny quips I come up with on a semi-regular basis, I've got to be real. Enjoy.

I've been struggling the past couple of months with the concept of fellowship. I've shared this before, and truth be told, I'll probably share it again, but it really bothers me that this isn't something I can just fix overnight. All I want is to go to bed knowing that when I wake up in the morning, I won't have the same issues to deal with the next day, and though I don't know if you've ever tried that, I'm here to tell you it doesn't work. Day in and day out, I still find myself trudging through life at a pace that pales in comparison to how I've lived my life before. Week in and week out, I attend both first and second services at Grace Church, just so I can see a few more faces for a few more hours before I go back to my house, fix myself a sandwich, and read a book. The whole thing is getting rather tired.

I am a creature of community. I love to be with people. I love to love on people. I just love people, in general. More recently though, I've found myself around people less and less as each day goes on. It's not like it's a terrible thing to be alone now and again. Since this whole time of life started, I've read more books than I'd read my entire life, I've spent more time in the Word than I'd been spending, I've journaled more than I'd care to admit, and I've washed every article of clothing I own. But though those things are worthy of excitement, I'd really rather put down a book and pick up a buddy.

I guess the question I ask is, "What kind of life am I living?" It has always been my desire to live a life of impact. Today, though, it feels more like I'm living a life of existence. I'm here, I'm listening, I'm alert, I'm only a phone call away, but if I were to skip out on a meeting with friends or a Sunday service, it wouldn't cross anyone's mind. And even if they did notice, would anyone pick up a phone and ask where I've been?

This sounds so selfish, now that I've taken the time to write it out. I should rejoice that the Lord has called me to some one-on-one time with Himself. It's just a bit difficult for me, is all. There's a lot going on. There are many laughs to be had, many tears to be shed, many hugs to be given, and much love to be shared. Sometimes, it's just hard to realize that when you're flyin' solo.

Laugh, cry, hug, and love,

Bob

Are you that graceful?

bob morton — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 15:20:00 GMT

My Saturday morning was spent planting privacy trees for the mother of my friend, Diana. Diana's aunt, Rhonda, helped me with a great deal of the work. Rhonda is a recently divorced mother of two, and a wonderful mother, if I do say so myself. Around the planting of the 5th tree, we began talking about our respective church homes, and I learned that she'd recently been anxious about returning to church, due to her moving away from her ex-husband. She told me how she'd called her pastor, and how embracing and graceful he'd been towards the situation. He'd told her one of the best lines I've ever heard about the nature of the church.

"The church can and should be a perfect entity comprised by, of, and for imperfect people."

How amazing is it that this man could cast aside any and all judgment and be the voice of Christ for this woman? Are you that graceful?

Pop Quiz

bob morton — Wed, 28 May 2008 14:33:00 GMT

I did not get along with my sixth grade teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson and we called her "Mrs. T." Please understand, she did not ask us to call her Mrs. T, nor did she really appreciate the nickname, but we called her Mrs. T because we used to "pity the fool" (presumably Mr. T) who had to deal with her after school was over.

I can no longer remember what began my sour relationship with Mrs. T, but I do remember not being alone in my distaste for her class. Be that as it may have been, I guess I went a bit over the top, because it was in her class that I was sent home with my first tarnished report card. Now, you may figure that I am referring to Bobby's first 'B,' but I'd already knocked that one out the year before, when I failed a math test due to my color-blind eyes confusing every red/green bar graph (long story, we fixed the grade). No, when I say tarnished report card, I meant in the 'Comments' section that goes along with the grade. On a yearly basis, my report cards read words such as "wonderful," or "super student!" I knew I was going to get an 'A,' so the comments section added a bit more anticipation. I could have never anticipated the words she'd write. The comment section I brought home that day read one word..."Belligerent."

Belligerent...wow. I didn't even know what the word meant at the time, but I still felt as though a knife had ripped through my heart. I knew that no such word could ever have been created to mean anything good. But I wasn't left in the dark for long. Believe you me, my parents took plenty of time to explain what that word had meant, and inform me that "Belligerent Bob" was not an alliteration I should be comfortable with.

After and entire Christmas break of my parents telling friends and family about the report card (all the while, flashing intense glares in my direction) it was time to return to Mrs. T's room, for English class. I should probably take the time to inform you of another reason we didn't like her class, which derived from her persistently random (2 pts for an oxymoron) pop quizzes. I don't like pop quizzes. Academically, I don't agree with them either, especially at the 6th grade level. But my opinion counted for naught, and for that year, I constantly wondered if I'd be quizzed upon my arrival to her room.

That wonder and fear changed entering the second semester of that year. I remember vividly walking into her classroom daily, with a newfound determination to defeat my nemesis and her surprise quizzes. Her sneak attacks would no longer work on me. It wasn't about just victory, either. It was about domination. I would take a quiz in my hand and begin, furiously writing, erasing, rewriting, and turning in papers as fast as I possibly could. I remember one day turning in her quiz before she'd finished passing them out. I was determined not only to succeed, but I also felt I had something to prove.

Living life with something to gain and something to prove was excellent motivation, even for a 6th grader. But still, you may be wondering what that has to do with life for adults or why I'm even bringing this about. The truth is, though we should think much more highly of our Teacher in life, our lives, like my 6th grade year will be chocked full of "pop quizzes." We will never wake up in the morning knowing in which ways we will be tested. We can never be fully expectant of the trials and tests which we will face. But though we cannot be certain of exactly when and how we will be tested and tried, we can be certain that it will indeed happen. That knowledge can/should lead us into intense preparation and training, putting any work a 6th grader might accomplish to shame.

There will be a test alright, and this time around, there's no way to be saved by the bell.

In love,

Bob

An excerpt from "If" by Amy Carmichael...

If...
     I asked to be delivered from trial rather
               than for deliverance out of it,
          to the praise of His glory;
     if I forget that the way of the cross leads
               to the cross
          and not to a bank of flowers;
     if I regulate my life on these lines,
          or even unconsciously my thinking,
          so that I am surprised when the way
               is rough and think it strange, though
               the word is, "Think it not strange,"
               "Count it all joy,"
...Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

Which Way Do I Go, George? Which Way Do I Go?

bob morton — Mon, 12 May 2008 16:11:00 GMT

It has been an interesting few weeks here at the command center that is Grace Church. A little over a month ago, my boss, mentor, and pastor, Rick came to the staff and expressed his intention to resign as the senior pastor of our congregation. As much of a shock that it was, the initial announcement wasn't too terrifying because of its limited longevity. Just a few short days later, Rick announced that he would not be resigning, and he would be continuing in the pastorate with minimal changes. Amidst this turbulent time, the deacons of our church began to seek ways they could help members of the staff and become more actively involved in the responsibilities of the church. In so doing, they put together a "ministry summit," which allowed us as staff members to sit before the council of deacons and spill our hearts about ministry. I know, I know, it didn't sound like much of a summit to me, either. It sounded like it had the makings of an interrogation. Anyhow, before the summit began, Rick (the pastor) came to the deacons and the staff and re-announced his renewed intention to re-resign...does that make sense? If it does, then it provides the background for this entry.

Last June, Kyle Pierpont and I both signed up to be part-time youth pastors for the ministry of Grace Church. While having two guys in a role like that can be difficult, the Lord has blessed our efforts and our relationship immensely. We knew that along with some relational strain and stress, financial instability might arise as well, pushing us both into other part-time jobs. Now, nearly a year later, the financial strain has grown increasingly difficult to deal with. I now have more bills to pay in the form of car payments, insurance, and gas fill-ups, and I'll soon be losing a roommate who's been helping me split the rent. All this adds up to a point where my current employment is not allowing me to stay put.

A bit over a month ago, I set some wheels in motion, both at Grace and elsewhere, regarding my job situation for the upcoming year. As it stands today, I have several job offers, both solid and presumed, but I'm still seeking the direction of the Lord. I know that God will bless what I do, for I desperately want to serve Him, but I'm terrified that I'll find a way to make a decision He won't be happy with.

It's been a tiresome and interesting past few weeks. I've felt so done with all this stuff, only to have my energy be renewed from the solid group of people I know are lifting me up regularly. I'd ask, selfishly, if you would do the same. If you remember, could you please pray for wisdom and discernment in my upcoming decisions? This decision is the most difficult I've had to make to this point in my life, bar none.

Bob

Fill Up...Part One, On Fellowship

bob morton — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 01:30:00 GMT

It might seem a random topic to begin journaling with, but I've been reading and studying the concept of being filled with the spirit, lately. In the past few weeks, I have been tried and tested and even examined regarding my stance on being filled with the spirit, and let me tell you, it has been an exhausting process. In the past couple of weeks I have been:

~joyful
~cheery
~lonely
~tired
~singled-out
~attacked
~confused
~reflective
~assured
~reassured, and
~quenched

This may seem like a long list of needless emotions, but they relate to one very fundamental principle of being "filled." I feel as though I've been on a rollercoaster, where my head, heart, and stomach all felt uneasy at some point or another. Even now, as I look back on it all, I am periodically unnerved thinking about what has taken place. I hope that this note will serve to both ask you to continue to pray for me, and address what I've found about being filled, Spirit-wise. If I reach a good point to stop, I will do so, and continue on tomorrow.

Prior to the snowstorms of winter, I began to smell something funky in my car. It was not a dead animal, nor was it from the exhaust system, but it was the distinct smell that derives from the burning of a clutch. The smell of such a burnout is nearly unmistakable, as I found out when several gentlemen separately told me they smelled a burnt clutch in or around the vicinity of my truck. I bring this up because a few weeks ago, I began to smell something funky in my life. Nothing's dead, nor is anything "bad" happening, but there is a distinct smell that's deriving from personal burnout. I have been characterized by physical, emotional, and spiritual lax, and have been struggling to remain consistent in basic things, such as updating my blog.

Now, I can already hear the masses. "Burnout?!!? At age 23? Just wait until you get older." Let me respond by expressing what I have found as the reason for my depletion. I suffer from a severe lack of fellowship. I opened up and broke down in staff meeting a bit ago, explaining that despite coming across hundreds of people every day, I have no true fellowship with people (more specifically, men) my age. I work with Jr. Highers, and then I coach college students. It is difficult to fellowship with people who call you coach, whether or not you want them to call you that. My other after-college friends are either married, engaged, in a relationship, or seeking one, and I often end up as an odd-wheel. And while I loved my days on my tricycle, I can understand how an odd wheel throws some kinks in some plans. I have no opportunity to be taught lessons from scripture (other than Sunday service), because I'm teaching it, and I have very limited accountability in spiritual disciplines. As I told the staff on that Monday, I'm quite often very lonely.

Fellowship is such an important aspect of our lives as followers of Christ. We are created as creatures of community, and we suffer when we don't find part in one. It is noted quite poetically in Ecclesiastes 4: "Woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!" (v10) Now, please understand that I know there are people who would always be there to pick me up, if in fact they ever let me fall in the first place, but also understand that my perception is my own reality. When I feel alone, I really become alone.

I am blessed with a wonderful, supporting community of fellow church-staff, who are taking immediate actions to help me find fellowship. Half of the Sundays in a month, I will be leaving Sunday School to someone else, so that I may become involved with the Hi-Definition (young professionals) group. During the summer months, I will be a part of planning and running "Terrific Tuesdays," where the Hi-Def groups meets at their leaders' house for dinner and fellowship. And most importantly, and somewhat redundantly, I have an office community which is everyday asking how I'm feeling. I know it seems like a tire and a bother to always answer, but you know, there may come a day when no one's asked me that question, and it's wonderful to know how much they care.

Well, I'm gonna change the title and just talk about fellowship today. Tune in tomorrow for my piece about being filled with the Spirit, along with another interesting story...

Love y'all,
Bobby

Boring Trip Home

bob morton — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 19:22:00 GMT

I'm so sorry to those who have been anxiously awaiting this post. Today alone, I have received several complaints that it has been far too long since I promised to have this done. Though I will not rest on excuses, I have just recently begun graduate studies at Bethel College, and the reading is intense. I will attempt to maintain an average of one posting a week, and hopefully will have time for more, but we'll have to see. Forgive me for how long it's been. Anyway, here's what you've been waiting for...

A boring trip home, is there ever such a thing? When your last name is Morton, I assure you you'll never experience what some may call a boring trip home. My past few days in the wonderful Lonestar state have exponentially intensified my feelings, as my mother was the most laid back person I met on this trip, which she'll agree, cannot be said often. (Love ya, Mom!) Though I was only in TX for a few days, I fit well more than a week's worth of friend, family, and work time into a relatively tight timetable. Those three days took me through a 3:30am drive to Chicago, airport panic, spring cleaning, brotherly bonding time, two church services (one a bit larger than the other), wonderful lunch meetings, great Starbucks trips, a whollop of a thunderstorm, a busy business meeting, and an Israeli who loves to cuss (a southern word for "swear"). Needless to say, my trip was breathtaking, both in the literal fashion, as I was running everywhere I went, and in the figurative fashion, as I was awestruck by the Lord's goodness in so many ways and at so many times.

The primary reason I ventured home was for some good family time. This is the second consecutive year I have remained in Granger over the Easter weekend, and though I have a wonderful time, I do miss the family events/drama. This year, I decided to make time for a family event even before Easter weekend, for the sake of my own sanity and my mother's. The time we spent together was surprisingly relaxing. Most times when I come home, there's a lot to do, since we know it will be another few months until I'm home the next time. We cram a lot of work into a little space and see what we can get done. This trip, we took it a lot easier on ourselves. My mom still worked a bit, but my only job at home was to clean the living room and shine the floors, which is tremendously fun when you realize how slippery it is with just socks on. For the first trip in a long time, Mom, Tommy, and I were able to enjoy each other's company without getting into any kind of dispute or emotional breakdown. I'm proud of us, really. We made a big step! Haha.

Before I even entwined myself into family time, I had an amazing experience upon arrival in Dallas on Sunday morning. Over Christmas break, I met a friend in McKinney and we've somewhat randomly kept in really good contact. It's not often that you meet a person one day in McKinney,TX, and see them a couple months later in South Bend, IN. Anyway, when my flight landed in Dallas, I realized I had enough time for my brother to zip me up to Stonebriar Church in Frisco, TX, where I was to meet my friend, Jordyn, for the 9:30 service. Well, we met up, we caught up, and we stayed up (awake that is...harder for me after my long morning) and decided that we'd head out to lunch with her family. It was such a blessed afternoon, having the opportunity to sit at On the Border with Jordyn, her brother, her mom, her aunt, and my brother. We ate, we chatted, we laughed, and we touched on some major points of conversation. I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to invest further into a growing friendship. It's not every day you have the ability to do that.

As the days rolled by, I found myself with another welcomed blessing. Every time I venture south of the Mason-Dixon line, there is a girl in TX who seems to know it before I even have the chance to tell her. Gabrielle and I met up here in Indiana, but she is currently attending seminary at Southwest Baptist Seminary in Forth Worth. She's also a tremendously gifted writer, with a regular focus on the "Modern Girl." You really should check out her website, Chick Chat with God! (No, she did not pay for that plug) Now, though Forth Worth is more than an hour away from McKinney, it is a no-brainer of a drive for me to make, whenever I wind up in the wonderful Lonestar State. Each and every time I've been home in the past year or so, Gabrielle and I have found a local Starbucks to grab a drink and spend large amounts of time discussing our lives, callings, and aspirations. I've told her this, so I feel fine writing it, but she never ceases to amaze me with what she has done, is doing, and is wanting to do for the Kingdom of God. I am always convicted and inspired by her passion and fire for Christ, and it's more than refreshing. Honestly, if I would have known while she was in Indiana that we would have conversations like we've had, I probably would have held hostage her shoe collection to keep her from leaving.

On top of simply meeting at a Starbucks with Gabrielle on Monday evening, I was blessed with the opportunity to join her at her church. It is a church plant called Body Life Church. Until that evening, I'd never been in a church with a population less than 100, so walking into a living room filled with about 20 people was surely something new. But for a church so small in attendance, the collective heart of the body was so large and strong. As one of several new faces, I felt incredibly welcomed and increasingly appreciated. I felt my words were more than tolerated, but rather listened and held on to. Please understand, I am not suggesting that we all need to turn away from our more mainline method of church, but we needn't be afraid of following a call from God to a smaller body such as I experienced at Body Life Church. In this church, I found a pastor that would rival any pastor in any church across the country in speaking ability, and has so far outgrown others' ability for love and kindness. I found a congregation committed to the passionate pursuit of Jesus and His teachings that far exceeds so many bodies of Christ I've seen before. It was a pinnacle of prayer, preaching, accountability, and intergenerational fellowship. I cannot say enough about the Lord's blessing that came in the form of a Monday night church service in Lake Worth, TX.

My final day in Texas was the one that brought forth the most stress. It has been years since I've been in the midst of a thunderstorm the size of what I saw that Tuesday. No matter how fast the windshield wipers were on, the water came down that much faster. The creeks and rivers flowed at record-breaking levels, and the streets looked like rivers themselves. It downpoured, and it downpoured all day. It rained so hard that Dallas-Forth Worth airport cancelled 90% of the flights departing that night, including my 9:30 flight back to Chicago. After 10 minutes of sheer panic, 40 minutes of being on hold, 15 minutes of negotiating with a customer service representative, and 12 more hours at home, I flew out of Dallas at 9:30am on Wednesday. When I arrived in South Bend, it was 3:15pm, and I had very little time to get back to the grind of my work week...but at least I was back.

My trip home was wonderful, from beginning to end. There weren't highs and lows, but rather a continuous feel of excitement and fun. I learned so much about so many people over the course of the trip, and I sure hope I get to make another trip here in the near future.

Thanks for taking the time to read!

Bobby

Shut up and listen

bob morton — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 03:36:00 GMT

I was on the phone with my mom a little bit ago, which is a normal occurence in my day, and my call-waiting beeped in. Normally, I ignore the beep and finish my conversation with whomever might be on the line, but I truly felt the need to answer this call. As I switched over to the other line, I immediately understood why God had me answer the call. Over the course of the next forty minutes, God wanted to teach me something.

Now, I'm normally a talker. Shoot, if you're actually reading this, you're looking at a website called Bob Morton Speaks. Speaking is my thing. My lists of talents do not normally allow me to ponder the concept of a site called, Bob Morton Listens. Tonight though, my friend needed an ear to hear her. As much and as often as I wanted to raise up and speak something, I felt supressed, but not in a bad way. I felt as though a hand was on my shoulder, inviting me, rather than condemning me, to listen.

As I gazed upon the clock on my phone at the end of the conversation, I felt so wonderfully blessed that the Lord had taught me so important of a lesson, even at such a seemingly random time. I have nothing else to say, except that if you're like me at all, maybe you need to take a second to (lovingly) shut up and listen.

Love,

Bobby

Earn this...Earn it.

bob morton — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 18:26:00 GMT

I was thinking of some of my favorite all-time movies, and the thought of one of them then proceeded to haunt me. The movie I'm thinking of is Saving Private Ryan. I don't know why I flashed back to this movie, nor do I know why I remember the scene so vividly, but I've been thinking about the scene after the final battle ("Hold the Bridge!"), when Captain John Miller (Tom Hanks) whilst bleeding out from a wound, pulls Private James Ryan (Matt Damon) down to his level and exclaims in a pained whisper, "Earn this, James. Earn it." Tom Hanks, or Captain Miller, rather, then proceeds to take his final breath.

Throughout the course of the movie, an older James Ryan is shown at Arlington National Cemetary at the grave site of Captain Miller crying his eyes out, at one point asking his wife if he has lived a good life. This moment of cinematical genius had haunted this character for all the years of his life. This moment really got me thinking about my life.

You know, I'm a lot like Private Ryan. We all are. We were all living our lives behind enemy lines, with no hope of support or rescue, when Jesus Christ came down to lay his life on the cross for us. Much like Captain John Miller faced wartime enemies, Jesus faced the devil, he faced the world, and he sacrificed himself for you and for me. The big difference though, he never pulled us to him and told us to earn it.

We can't earn everlasting life. We cannot do anything to receive Christ's sacrifice and deserve it. It was done because God loved us that much. God loved us so much, he gave his son for our salvation (John 3:16). But rather than be haunting that we can't earn His love, it is relieving that all we need to do is accept Christ as our savior and abide in him, and we will be counted worthy.

Bobby

Jr. High Update

bob morton — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 14:58:00 GMT

Many of you who know me have heard that I was a bit disenchanted with how our Jr. High group, gsO, was going forth as of a couple months ago. While it has been an extended period of time since you might have heard anything, let me tell you, no news was so much more than good news. I wanted to take a few minutes this morning to share what has been transpiring at 6:30 every Wednesday night for the past several weeks.

1) We have been blessed with a tremendous amount of growth. So often, we in ministry concentrate all of our efforts on numerical growth. While we at grace.church.youth have experienced some growth in our numbers, the growth that continually blows me away is the spiritual growth we're seeing in the students that show up every week. Week in and week out we're seeing students take steps of growth in spiritual disciplines, in their prayer lives, in their relational lives, in their leadership roles, and in their schools! Praise God for reaching the hearts of these young students and guiding them to a life lived to the contrary of the world's pop culture.

2) We have met with an increased number of public school students. The hardest part of my job is laziness. I have a small Christian school right next door to my office, and most of the students in youth group attend. In the interest of efficiency, it is far too easy for me to head next door for lunch, talk to the students, and call it a day of ministry. God has truly woken me up to the needs in public schools as our gsO student body has suddenly (in the course of 2 weeks) shifted much closer to 50/50, GCS to non-GCS, than it's ever been before. We have students seeking to serve in Edwardsburg Middle School, Clay Middle School, Grisham Middle School, Discovery Middle School, LaSalle Academy, Stanley Clark, and Oak Manor. Even furthermore, our GCS (Granger Christian School) students are more fully understanding their role in building relationships and shining their light now that more students are attending who they've never met before.

3) We have a rising number of students wanting to serve in ministry. It's always difficult sharing a Wednesday night with AWANA, because it is one of the few activities Jr. Highers can really help with. I have been so blessed to see individuals splitting time between gsO and AWANA service. In addition, we have seen a flow of students wanting to accept the responsibility of playing in the worship band on a rotating basis, and our participation in group service projects is inspiring. The servant's heart that I see from our youth group, and our church as a whole, is such that I have not seen before.

4) I am blessed with an amazing, uplifting, encouraging set of leaders. I am not very good at recruiting leadership, so I'm glad the Lord helps me. In the past couple months, a team of leaders has been assembled around me, not so much by me, that makes what I do possible. From young adults, to working moms, we have a group of people committed to the lives of these students and their families. I am so thankful for the work they do on Wednesday nights and in my life.

There are so many other things I could spend my time writing about, but I promised a brief overview. To say the least, I am far more encouraged than I've ever been before about working where I am working. I do not know what the future holds, but I love my family at Grace Church and in Michana.

Love ya,

Bobby