Scott Freeman

I posted yesterday about my mom’s condition but for some reason it didn’t go through. I’ll try again.
She is now in a normal room beginning rehab. It is a long painful struggle but everything looks pretty good.
Please continue to keep her in your prayers.

Wow. I have already exceeded 200 hits in the first week of this blog. I thank all of you for stopping by. More entries to come.

I am leaving this afternoon to travel to Arkansas. My mom will be having her left kidney removed on Thursday morning.
They found a tumor on the lower part of the kidney and the doc thought it best to remove the whole kidney. The good news is that it has not entered into the bloodstream and they believe that she will have a complete recovery.
Please pray that all goes well. I will post from Arkansas to let everyone know how it is going.

Back on November 20 I decided to run a mile after dinner.

My thought process was simple: I’ve lost 60 pounds in the last 6 months. I’ve bought a bike and done a considerable amount of bike riding.
I feel good so running a mile should be simple, right?
I could not have been more wrong.
I could not run a quarter of a mile without stopping.
It was eye-opening how out of shape I truly was.
So I sat out on this program to work up to three miles in 9 weeks.
In the process I fell in love with running.
I’m not very fast.
I don’t have the best form or technique.
But I keep running.
The question I have wrestled with is when I transition to being someone who runs to being a runner?
When does the transformation take place from wannabe to actual runner?
I think I got the answer last Thursday night.
After dinner I sat out for my regular run. The downside was that I had just eaten and felt somewhat bloated.
But I kept running.
In the pouring rain.
But I kept running:
…Through an encounter with a man-eater of a dog. THE MONGREL SLAMMED INTO MY THIGH! THE CUR NEEDS TO BE PUT DOWN.
…Through Chest cracking and bleeding
…Through shoelace coming untied
…Through blister on my foot
…Through waterlogged shoes
For 4 miles I continued to run unimpeded by my surroundings.
And it felt great.
Knowing that I could run through all that and continue with a smile on my face I know that now I am a runner.
Knowing that two nights later I can go out and set a personal record for two miles I know that now I am a runner.
Knowing that I am excited to begin a half-marathon training program this week I know that now I am a runner.
I run, not because I have to, but because I get to.
One thing that I have learned is that running does not get easier, I just learn to love it more.

Isn’t that the way it is with faith? The Christian life is not easy.
The way is difficult.
The cross that we are called to bear is overwhelming.
People may despise us for our faith.
They may criticize our commitment.
Our steps may falter on the road.

It’s not so much that the Christian life gets easier the longer we run.
It’s just that we learn to love Jesus more.
And so we can run through the rain…
Through the hurts and pains…
Through the obstacles that slam into us on the way…

In the process we become true disciples, true runners in the Race.

An all too familiar sound punctuated the otherwise stillness of the night. My bedside clock said it was 1:30 in the morning.
I knew immediately that it was the sound of a child screaming. However, through the hypnotic whir of my fan I was not immediately able to discern which of my two girls it was.
Now parenting wisdom would dictate that I would immediately get up to determine which child was in distress and then perform the required actions to ensure that the crisis was averted.
But I was in the middle of a game that I could not afford to lose. And my opponent is good.
The game is this: when a kid cries out in the night, do not, under any circumstances, move. Don’t flinch, don’t roll over, don’t lift your head, don’t yawn, and DO NOT open your eyes.
If you are the first to commit any of these transgressions then you will have to get up and tend to the kids.
The object is to hold out until your spouse gets up.
Tracy knows this game and she plays it well.
I’m no slouch either.
Well, last night we were both in fine form.
Then, something strange happened: I heard a door open and close.
Chloe must be coming to get in bed with us again. Or so I thought.
I looked up (I know, I lost) to confirm that this was what was happening.
It was Cassie!!
Our 21 month old had crawled out of her crib, opened her door, closed it behind her and made her way into our room.
Did I mention that she is 21 months old?
It is way too soon for this.
She crawled in bed with us. Not good.
We are fighting this battle with Chloe. We can’t afford to do it with Cassie too.
Here are our options:
1) Keep putting her back in the crib and hope that she will quit crawling out and go back to sleep.
2) Put her in a toddler bed
3) Duct Tape her to her crib so she can’t crawl out. (Disclaimer: this is just a poor attempt at humor. I would never do this. Please don’t report me)
4) Buy her a crib tent.

Needless to say, we have to go buy a crib tent today.

The good thing is that Cassie knew exactly where to go.
She could have gone wandering through the house.
She could have gone and woken up Chloe.
She could have hurt herself.
She could have gone and terrorized the cat.
But she didn’t.
She came to her father. She knew how to reclaim the safety that she had left behind when she left the protection of her crib.
She knew that I would take care of her.

We aren’t any different.
We have all found ourselves outside of the safety of our innocence.
We have sinned and grown older.
We have wandered from our Protection.
Do we know where to go?
Do we wander off by ourself trying to find our own way?
Do we wake up others and drag them into our plight?
Do we make matters worse by blindly staggering off into the night?
Do we harm others by our refusal to seek shelter?
Or do we turn to the Father?
In the dark night of your soul, where do you turn?
He is waiting. All you have to do is enter in and He will shelter you.
Turn to Him, sleepy child. He will be your rest.

That is the distance I ran last night. The most I have ever run.
I have logged over 30 miles already this year.
Allow me to extol the virtue of running.
If you have never tried it I encourage you to give it a shot.
It is one of the best things I have ever done.
A great way to start is by doing something called the Couch to 5K program.
You can find it here:
http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml

It is designed to get you from a sedentary lifestyle to running 3 miles in 9 weeks.
Trust me, it works.

It seems that the train derailment this morning in Glendale was the result of a suicidal man who parked his SUV on the track.
At the last moment the man changed his mind about prematurely ending his life and abandoned the vehicle. That act of selfishness took the lives of at least 10 people.
He will now be charged with homicide.
We too were hurtling toward death.
A death at our own hands. A destruction of our own choosing.
The suicide of a life completely surrendered to sin.
Yet, instead, we committed homicide.
Killed an innocent man.
Just so we could live.
Have you given thanks today for Jesus and His sacrifice?

I’m 75% of the man I used to be.

I start 2005 weighing 60+ pounds less than I began
2004. A somewhat rigid combination of
diet and exercise were the keys to my extreme makeover.

That is quite an accomplishment for the guy in the past
whose idea of a healthy meal were extra onions on a hamburger and whose
exercise regimen consisted of running to the refrigerator between commercial
breaks. (I wanted a house where the
living room television was viewable from the kitchen. That would have eliminated the rash decisions of choosing what to
eat before the game resumes. But, alas,
it was not to be.)

One problem that arose due to my weight loss was the fact
that none of my clothes fit me anymore. (That may be a good thing when you consider I was still harboring shirts
from the late 80′s.)

Well, this past week I decided to do something about
it: I cleaned out my closet and
dresser.

When I was done, there was a tremendous pile of clothes that
no longer fit. Left behind were a
handful of clothes that I could wear without feeling I was wearing a potato
sack.

I decided to donate my wardrobe to the Clothes Garden.

“But wait,” I thought, “what if I gain all that weight
back? Then I will have nothing to
wear. Maybe I should keep a few pieces
just in case.”

Then I began looking closer at the donated pieces and
realized that some of those articles of clothing were incredibly
comfortable. “Maybe I’ll keep a few of
the T-shirts for around the house.”

Then I thought about the cost. It’s going to be expensive to replace all those clothes. Especially my “going to meeting”
clothes. Maybe I should keep the dress
pants.

Before long, I wasn’t getting rid of much at all. A few worn-out pieces that I had needed to
get rid of anyway.

Isn’t that the way many of us live our spiritual lives. Instead of fully embracing the new person
that Christ has called us to be, we hedge our bets. We give only our castoffs: sins long overcome, token church attendance,
half-hearted devotion.

We fail to give all of the old so God can recreate us.

We hold on to the past and refuse eternity.

We look back instead of moving forward.

And to justify our unwillingness to be transformed we use
the same old excuses:

1) Uncertainty-what
if I gain the weight back?

It will do me no good to live in
fear of the old life. I need to
celebrate the new life, the new outlook and approach that God has given
me.

2) Comfort-but
what if my new clothes don’t fit as well?

Let’s face it, just like old
clothes, the sinful life can be pretty enjoyable. We enjoy the allure, the seduction, of vice and sinful
habit. It is what we know and to leave
that behind for something new can be overwhelming.

3) Cost-But
how can I afford a new wardrobe?

I need to go buy some new shirts
this week. It is going to cost some
money. But a new life costs. So does the Christian life. There is no crown without a cross. There is no new life without a death before
it.

When I came to my senses I loaded up the van and got rid of
those old clothes. Now I have an almost
empty closet but I am filled with the hope of a better life. Free of the weight that has held me back for
so long.

When we give God all of our old clothes then He is able to
clothe us in something far better: the very essence and person of Jesus.

Let’s be sacrificial this new year. Clean out the closet. Allow Him to remake you and transform you.

Quote of the Week:

The cross is
laid on every Christian. It begins with the call to abandon the attachments of
this world. It is that dying of the old man which is the result of his
encounter with Christ. As we embark upon discipleship we surrender ourselves to
Christ in union with His death — we give over our lives to death. Since this
happens at the beginning of the Christian life, the cross can never be merely a
tragic ending to an otherwise happy religious life. When Christ calls a man, He
bids him come and die . . .In fact, every command of Jesus is a call to die,
with all our affections and lusts. But we do not want to die, and therefore
Jesus Christ and His call are necessarily our death and our life.

Dietrich
Bonhoffer

How Do You Talk to Girls?

I’ll never forget the moment that she asked the question,
“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

She, in this story, was Lucy**. Lucy was one of my classmates. I had known her all of my life.

We, of course, had never been friends.

You see, while I was still at a relative young age, I
entered into an unspoken agreement with the girls at both my school and church.

That agreement was simple: I wouldn’t talk to them and they would not talk to me. As the years passed all parties remained
rigidly committed to the particulars of this contract.

Granted, there were times when it was violated for various
reasons. However, such offenses as
saying, “Excuse me,” or “Would you please pass the glue?” were often seen as
less egregious than being rude.

Needless to say, as the years passed, I grew less and less
satisfied with the terms of our agreement. I wanted to talk to girls. And I
wanted them to talk to me.

However, I was without the powers of negotiation to propose
a new accord that would be beneficial for all parties.

I wanted to talk to girls: but I was too socially awkward to know how.

I wanted girls to talk to me: but their unswerving commitment to the original treaty had not
seemed to diminish or waver over the years. They still weren’t that interested
in talking to me.

Then Lucy stepped through the red tape, alighted from the
mountain, and spoke to me.

Not only did she speak. She was asking me out! I was
incredulous, intimidated and excited in one moment. I had broken through to the other side. Girls now found me appealing and were clamoring to spend time
with me.

Should I hold out for other inquiries for my time?

Should I play hard to get and tell her I was busy?

Should I pretend like I couldn’t speak English to avoid the
likelihood of embarrassing myself?

No, none of these were worthwhile options. My answer? Honesty. I wasn’t doing a thing on the night in
question.

I was totally free.

Unbooked.

I can pencil you in. Name the time.

“I’m having a surprise birthday party for my boyfriend,
Bobby. I know the two of you are
friends. Would you like to come?”

Oh.

It was one of those acceptable violations again. Politeness trumps the no-speaking rule.

Needless to say, I went. Bobby was after all, my friend. I had a great time.

Lucy gave me a ride. (I couldn’t drive yet.) We
started to talk. I can’t remember
saying anything embarrassing.

I was still a few months away from becoming semi-coherent
around girls. But this event started
the ball rolling.

In the meantime, I was happy to have been invited.

Just to have been included. Just to have my presence matter was important.

Maybe you know somebody who needs to be invited.

Who needs a place to belong.

Who is looking for connection and relationships.

Who needs to know the Lord.

Maybe they just need to be invited.

February 6^th is Bring a Friend Sunday. That is just 3 weeks from today.

Won’t you break the silence and invite someone?

It may make all the difference.

We pass out nomination forms for new elders today. It is an overwhelming responsibility to
serve as shepherds in the Lord’s church. It is also an important duty to nominate qualified and able men to serve
in that capacity.

This week, as I have ruminated over the intricacies of this
process, my thoughts have turned to many godly men who have blessed my life and
truly been shepherds to me through the years.

Forgive my personal reflection but maybe the legacy of these
individuals in my life may help spur your thoughts to holy men who would
faithfully fulfill the role of elder in this place.

I owe a great deal to:

–My father, for first showing me what an elder truly
is. For raising me in a godly home and
instilling in me a faith that has impelled me to my own life of service.

–Bill Weeks, for teaching me that elders can be men of
great humor.

–Buck Pierce, for showing me the gentleness that is the
hallmark of a shepherd

–LT Blevins, for paying me out of his own pocket when I
first began as a youth minister intern in 1990.

–Bill Arnold, for always being a constant encouragement as
I found my way in ministry.

–Jack McGee, for showing me a shepherd who was continually
involved in the lives of the members.

–Larry Hutchings for always opening his home to me and
giving me a place at the dinner table.

–Burley Bearden for loving people and his display of
genuine sadness when I moved on to a different work

–Carlin Brooks, Mike Flanagan, Kai Grissom, and Trice
Sampson for being patient with me and never giving up. They had ample reason to cut their losses
with an immature, brash, know-it-all youth minister but they never did. I would not be in ministry if it were not
for each of their steadfast faith that I had something to offer.

–Morris Reed for getting me involved in singles ministry
when I thought that I had nothing more to give.

–David Lee for his intellectual curiosity and encouraging
me to be more of a student of the Word.

–Aaron Ellis and Larry Smith for their willingness to be
used as shepherds and desire to grow as men of God. Both of these men displayed genuine humility as they answered the
call to serve for the first time and in the process became lifelong friends.

–John Ray Smith for his wisdom and experience during the
trying first days of a new eldership. His constancy validated the work that we were doing.

–Billy Evans and James Pearson for their desire to grow and
do great things for the Kingdom in Waco and for asking me to be a part of the
process.

Each of these men has collaborated to encourage, teach,
guide and shepherd me.

There were times when I doubted my role but they showed
faith.

There were times when I was discouraged and they lifted my
spirits.

There were times when I was weak and they offered me the
strength of Christ.

There were times when I was arrogant and proud and they
humbled me.

There were times when I was wrong and they rebuked me.

There were times of uncertainty and they stayed the course.

For those examples of holy and righteous living, I am
eternally grateful.

A church is truly blessed when it has qualified and godly
men willing and able to serve in that capacity.

As we fill out our forms over the next two weeks may we do
so with prayerful reflection on the qualities and attributes that God intends
for the shepherd to possess.

Quote of the week:

The prayers of holy men appease God’s wrath, drive
away temptations, resist and overcome the devil, procure the ministry and
service of angels, rescind the decrees of God. Prayer cures sickness and
obtains pardon; it arrests the sun in its course and stays the wheels of the
chariot of the moon; it rules over all gods and opens and shuts the storehouses
of rain; it unlocks the cabinet of the womb and quenches the violence of fire;
it stops the mouths of lions and reconciles our suffering and weak faculties
with the violence of torment and violence of persecution; it pleases God and
supplies all our need.