timbslim

Shawn and I grew up together. Shawn was possibly one of the most insane people I ever knew. His insanity was only topped by the fact that he usually didn’t have a clue about what was going on. Often I wondered if he realized that life was real. He kind of lived like he was just making this stuff up as he went along. You probably know someone like this. Shawn didn’t have too many cares. He was a carefree kind of guy. I take pleasure in explaining in much more detail. Shawn, his sister, my sister, and I used to skip school at the drop of a hat; sometimes we dropped our own hats. Sherri, his sister, drove us to school. Sherri had two cars to choose as our school chariot. We either rode in a 1972 Chevy Impala, huuuuuuuuge, or a 1970 something Volkswagen Bug, yellow. We would get in the car, get started to school, and the temptation would strike. All of a sudden the discussion would be, “Who has a test?” “Does anyone have anything important going on?” Next thing you know, the...

For a long time I, and the church system that taught me, have viewed The Great Commission as a form to evangelize. In other words, we have taken this commission and attempted to box it up for resale. It has become a product to convert rather than a lifestyle to influence. We have developed hundreds of cutesy and ingenious ways to push the gospel. We have made countless tracts to hand out. We have come up with mass plans of citywide evangelism. We have developed Continuous Witness Training (CWT), Evangelism Explosion (EE), the FAITH plan of evangelism, and many more. We have become marketers of the gospel. All of these center on growing the church and the kingdom numerically, even the evangelism tools that purport to be about “relationship” evangelism. If you get down to it, they are all about marketing the gospel. We churchaniacs love a good marketing plan. It removes the risk of actually having to journey with someone. We can blast people with the gospel product and walk a...

Barry and I would drive the church van to the Positive Development Center every Sunday night. This was a place where we would pick up adults with mental and physical impairments. We would bring them to our church. It was a good excuse for me to miss Discipleship Training. I was in my early teens. I had already run off five teachers. There was another couple of guys who picked them up on Sunday morning. I have to tell you that these people we picked up were great folks. They also came along with their own forms of entertainment. They provided me with a great deal of comic relief during those years of my life. I’ll tell you about a couple of them. There was this lady, we’ll call her Polly. She had this ritual that she would go through during the worship service. She would sit about in the middle of the right side of the worship center. This was a small church. Polly would stand and with both hands pat her head, pat her shoulders, sit down, and pat her knees. She would repeat...

But if I say, I will not remember Him or speak anymore in His name, Then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire shut up in my bones; and I am weary of holding it in, and I cannot endure it.” (Jer. 20:9) More than ever in my life I find that I need God. It is almost funny how I used to sing songs about needing God or speak messages about our need for Him. It may be so funny that it is almost sickening. To think that I have thought that I have needed God before in my life, not like now. I am waiting on Him. I am asking Him to lead me. The reason I am doing this is because I need His direction. I have none for myself. It is both a great place to be and a difficult place to be. It has been a time of many questions. I was watching a portion of the movie The Village. If you haven’t seen it and want to, you should stop reading this. Go get the movie, watch it, and then read this blog. I hate ruing movies for people. In this movie a group of people withdraw and isolate themselv...

My Dad, mother, sister, and I pull up to this house. (I am withholding real names and location to protect the guilty). We had been invited to eat with the Hogans. If you have ever been to a church eating function you know that there are those people whose food you don’t eat. You know what I am talking about. Don’t act like you don’t. If you don’t know what I am talking about, then you are that person. This would explain why you always bring home a full dish. When you tell people to try your succotash surprise they say, “I’m full.” They aren’t full. They are exercising intestinal defensive warfare. Well, Mrs. Hogan was one of these people. My family and I enter the house. I already knew that I didn’t want to eat. It looked like they kept a petting farm in the house. I also believe they subscribed to the “Someone Else Will Pick It Up” style of cleaning. My level of comfort for eating in this house was diminishing by the minute. I wasn’t real fond of sharing my meal with ...

I am going to try to be gentle with this blog. However, it hits a very sensitive chord in me. It often angers me. The topic is “CHURCH SIGNS.” (Imagine music here like: Dum, Dum, Dum). Yes indeed. I hate church signs. Lord Jesus, deliver us. Church signs often get on my last nerve. See, I am a proponent of simply putting Scripture on church signs. That seems like a beautiful idea to me. People drive by your church sign and could read a wonderful verse. Wouldn’t that be nice? But noooooo! The good ole church people have to let Deacon Fred come up with quirky statements each week for passers by to read. Is that even possible? Evidently not! I saw this one just recently. Jesus is Coming; Everyone Look Busy! Please forgive this next question! But, what in the hell does this mean? I mean honestly. Are you kidding me? Look busy. Does this mean that right now and every perpetual moment of my life from this point on I am supposed to look like I am doing some stuff? I re...