Welcome!

Using the term welcome as a noun, dictionary.com defines the familiar word in the following manner:

a kindly greeting or reception, as to one whose arrival gives pleasure. This definition is very fitting as we celebrate the beginning of Andre Towner's ministry among us this Sunday. His arrival will indeed bring great pleasure as we expect that God will do great things in the days to come. Westwood is known for its welcoming spirit. Andre has already expressed to me his appreciation for the warm welcome you have offered him.

The apostle Paul encouraged the Philippian church to receive Epaphroditus as he once again came among them, writing, "Welcome him in the Lord with great joy..." I know that our Westwood family will do the same as Andre joins our ministry team.

Join us this Sunday as we give a warm WBC welcome to Andre Towner and his family.

Jim Abernathy

Remembering 9/11

"Welcome to Westwood." We had heard and experienced that warm greeting in many ways during the first three weeks of our ministry here. Having begun that ministry on Sunday, August 19, 2001, I had been Senior Pastor here for little more than three weeks when I sat at my desk on a sunny Tuesday morning preparing for staff meeting. It was another new day...of course, everything was new and fresh in those first days as Cindy began her new job at Navy Elementary, Clayton entered the second grade in a new school, and all of us were finding our way through that process of acclimation to many new things in our lives. Little did we know that the narrative of our and every American's story would change on that September 11 morning.

How does one prepare to witness and absorb all that happened on that day? The scenes of exploding planes, falling buildings, the burning Pentagon, and the smoldering remains of a commercial airliner cut deep into a Pennsylvania field seemed more like the frames of a motion picture than the reality of a late summer morning, but the harsh reality of these cruel events soon gripped our bodies, minds, and spirits with a collective grief and anger that had no parallel in our nation's history. Much of our time at Westwood that morning was spent trying to track down the whereabouts of church family members who worked in the affected areas, and to hastily prepare for a prayer service at noon, and then again at 7 that evening. It was a moment of utter disbelief and certain belief. Questions of who, how, why, and what's next were heard again and again that day. There was no explanation, no resolution it seemed. Yet, there was faith, and the belief that inhabited our songs, prayers, and scripture readings that day that kept us connected to a hope beyond ourselves.

I remember Pat Close and B. R. McDonald singing the old hymn "Precious Lord, Take My Hand," at one of our services that day. When my way grows drear, Precious Lord, linger near... it was that lingering presence of the Holy Spirit that empowered our help in brokenness, our strength in uncertainty, and our hope in those dark moments of grief. In the decade since that day, we have experienced this lingering presence again and again, finding the assurance of God's presence to be enough in the midst of life's uncertainties.

September 11, 2012, if forecasts hold true in our area, will dawn perhaps a lot like that 9/11 morning...a beautiful day, seemingly full of promise. You and I do not know what this day will bring, and yet, the same assurance from Thomas Dorsey's old hymn text still rings true...Hear my cry, hear my call, Hold my hand lest I fall, Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

As you remember this difficult day in our nation's history, hold tight to the precious hand of your Lord, the One who lingers near.

Jim Abernathy

In All My Experience...

One of my students at Leland began a question the other night with these words; "In all of your experience..." Something about those words made me suddenly feel a bit older. Perhaps the recognition I received at IHOP recently when told that I now qualify for the senior menu made me a bit more sensitive to the student's words. Or maybe it's the passage of time now marked by our "empty nest" that has made me more aware of my "maturity." It could be the occasional inquiry that comes from time to time these days about where and when we might retire.

I suppose I would have to admit that there are days when I feel a bit older than others; days when I recognize the signs of aging in my face or in the sounds of my occasionally creaking, stiff joints. I've had gray hair for years...of course I'm glad to have hair of any color. Perhaps the student's words caught me at just the right moment, you know, that intersection between reality and insecurity where something said at any other time wouldn't have hit me that way...but in that moment, it gave me reason to pause.

Some of you may be chuckling right now, thinking I'm too young for such thoughts, and I guess you are right. I'm in reasonably good health and have an otherwise positive outlook about life and living. I have always subscribed to the familiar adage, "You're as young as you feel," because I've always felt young, certainly younger than my years. But time now seems to slip by more quickly. Yes. I know there are still the same twenty-four hours in the day now that there were thirty years ago...perhaps I simply mark them in a different manner.

Irish playwright, Oscar Wilde, once said, "The old believe everything; the middle-aged suspect everything: the young know everything." Perhaps my middle-aged suspicions are simply running amok. The words of another middle-age man are appropriate for my season of suspicions. "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation... I can do all this through Christ who gives me strength." Paul's admonition to the church at Philippi is good medicine for my and your suspicions...no matter our age or circumstance.

In all my experience...I realize how blessed I have been in so many ways. Thanks be to God!

Jim Abernathy

"One In the Bond of Love"

Wednesday evening, the Hope Class hosted the www.go group for dinner and fellowship.  This is the second year in a row that these young adults have hosted our seniors and I, for one, found it a most enjoyable evening.  At the same table, I was involved in conversations about empty nest strategies, the energy necessary to keep up with grandchildren, and the "bestest-ever" roller coaster ride at Disney World.  There were infants and octogenarians, five-year olds and fifty-five year olds, eating, laughing, and playing together.  It was a wonderful picture of family too rarely seen in our often age-segregated world. Certainly we have different interests and energy levels, freedom and constraints of time, and life perspectives informed by our different levels of maturity and experience.  But I would argue that there is more to connect us than separate us...more to unite than divide.

 

From time to time we plan activities at Westwood that remind us that our church family is a varied and vital community.  The uniqueness of each individual and each different age does not have to create obstacles that keep us apart.  Just as the apostle Paul reminded the Roman church that the human body is made up of many parts, all working and dependent on each other, so too is the body of Christ, the church, made up of many members, united in purpose and calling.  

 

Yes, we have age-graded classes for our children and youth, and many of our adult classes are formed around people who share a variety of similarities, including age, but how remarkable it is when we come together across all of those and other lines that threaten to divide us, to honor the Lord as we worship, minister, and fellowship together.   Thanks to all who remind us we are truly one in the bond of love!

 

Jim Abernathy

Transition

Good Saturday Morning!!!

The Party's Over....ah yes, vacation comes to an end. Cindy and I have been away the past ten days. To say that we have enjoyed these days would be to overstate the facts just a bit. Certainly there have been good times, renewing acquaintances with old friends, reading, shopping, visiting historic sites, playing golf, etc. There have been bittersweet moments as well during these days, for included in this trip was an act of separation as we moved Clayton into the dorm at the University of Kentucky for his freshman year. Though this move has been eighteen years in the making, it seems to have come so quickly...where did the time go?

Moving him into the dorm was reasonably uneventful. The mothers of the roommates got everything organized and settled in its place and we left Clayton on Friday afternoon with the assurance that we would see him again the next day for the freshman induction ceremony. Saturday afternoon we stopped by his dorm to drop off a few items, and I warned Cindy not to give in to the urge to straighten up what I assumed would be a now disheveled room. My assumptions were correct and Cindy, to her credit, bravely resisted her motherly instincts to clean and straighten, and we headed off to Memorial Coliseum for the induction ceremony.

There had been few tears along this journey. We had been prepared by others to expect a rush of emotions as we made our way through this rite of passage. As the induction ceremony got under way, the president of the university stood to welcome and challenge the class of 2016. A rising sophomore then reminded the new students that she had sat where they were now sitting the year before, offering encouragement for their new adventure. The students were inducted by reciting a pledge of commitment together and then a choral group sang the song all Kentuckians revere, My Old Kentucky Home. Tears were flowing as parents across the room were overcome by this special moment...except for me. As a native Kentuckian I am often moved by Stephen Foster's great tribute to the bluegrass state, but as I sang along with thousands of others on this day, there were no tears, no obvious emotion. I was handling this experience much better than I thought I would.

Then something happened I wasn't prepared for. The marching band came running into the coliseum and commenced the playing of the UK fight song. It was a loud, boisterous moment when tears were to give way to a unified celebration...except for me. With the drums beating, the brass blaring, and the batons twirling in the air, tears began streaming down my cheeks. I was caught off guard by this sudden emotion that seemed a bit out of place. People around us were clapping and singing, some pounding their fists in the air to the beat of the drums, and I was tearing up. Now I have counseled people through the years that grief can grab one at the most unexpected times. The playing of the the UK fight song was certainly one of those unexpected times. As I stood there wondering why I was crying when everyone else was joyously celebrating, it hit me, that this very song was something Clayton and I had hummed, whistled, and sung together whenever we watched a UK basketball or football game. Over the years, whether watching on TV or having traveled to Rupp Arena, we had shared experiences that had marked our allegiance to the Wildcats, and in a very real way, to each other. We would still celebrate this connection, but now, in different places and different experiences. I pulled myself together long enough to clap as the majorettes strutted out of the building and the last echoes of the drums were released into the late afternoon air. I dried my tears, smiled at Cindy, and acknowledged yet another transition in our lives.

Few tears have been shed since that day. The moment of release had come. Now, we begin the daily routines of our new lives. Texting, email, and phone conversations keep us connected. And of course, come November, some five-hundred miles apart, we will once again share a connection, with Clayton at Rupp Arena and me in our family room watching by television, as the familiar sounds of the fight song are played...On, On, U of K, we are right for the fight today.

Excuse me, I need to find the box of Kleenex.

Jim Abernathy

Pressure and Distraction

The Olympics are coming to a close this weekend in London. Organizers have proclaimed the games a great success, not only for the athletic competition, but also in viewership as the IOC estimates a potential global audience of over 4.8 billion people. I know I sometimes get a bit nervous standing over a four-foot putt with only three people watching. Imagine trying to balance yourself on a 4 inch beam, or stop a slicing soccer ball from going into the net, or clear a hurdle while running at full speed knowing that there might be 4.8 billion people watching!! The ability of those athletes who focus their attention on the moment and task at hand, blocking out the pressures and distractions all around them, is what often separates them from other competitors.

How do you handle pressure? How easily are you distracted? Few will ever have to perform before the glaring eyes of billions of people as Olympic athletes do, but for most of us, it doesn't take that kind of crowd to do the job. The pressures of work or school, even family sometimes take their toll and the easiest of tasks are made more challenging. Elite athletes often have some kind of strategy for dealing with that kind of pressure and distraction.

So, what is your strategy? I think the apostle Paul had a pretty good handle on the challenges he faced that brought pressure and distraction to his journey. He wrote in Philippians 4:11b, "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances." This isn't apathy or disconnected indifference. Contentment, for the person of faith, is living in the moment with all its pressures and distractions, trusting that God is present with you as you do your best to accomplish the task...to do whatever must be done. Gold medals aren't often awarded for the daily challenges we face, but the assurance that God is with us empowers our actions and sharpens our focus. In the midst of pressure and distraction, that is our greatest strength.

Jim Abernathy  

Interruption and Opportunity

I awakened early yesterday morning to take my wife Cindy to BWI to catch a flight to Indiana for her high school reunion. As we were leaving the house at 4:30 a.m., I glanced at my phone to check email and saw that Delta Airlines had emailed at 1:23 a.m. to let us know that Cindy's connecting flight had been canceled. It's a bit disconcerting when walking out the door to find that arrangements for your ultimate destination might be in question. After some frustrating moments on the phone with the airline's automated system, we finally decided to go into the terminal and speak with a living, breathing human being. With appropriate encouragement, the agent found an acceptable connecting flight and Cindy was on her way.

Life changes in a moment. Cancellations, postponements, revisions, adjustments...these are all a part of the journey we experience. They sometimes wreak havoc with our schedules and our perceptions of what is fair and what is not. Occasionally we have control in these moments, but often, not.

I heard someone say recently that God is at work in the interruptions of life. In the middle of the uncertainty about destination and outcome, one wonders about God's hand. This is not to say that God pre-ordains these interruptions, but that in the midst of them, God can work to teach valuable lessons, and to empower thought and action that enable decision making in the midst of the moment.

In the case of our early morning "interruption," there was nothing we could have done to prevent it, nor was there anything that we could have done after being made aware of it to fix it. What we were able to do, however, was not to panic, not to succumb to the frustration, but to resolutely and calmly find an appropriate resolution. Every interruption is not so easily managed, and certainly there are other interruptions more significant in nature. The Psalmist's response to his "interruptions," gives us a good word for today..."Why are you downcast, o my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, My Savior and my God," (42:5) The interruption presents an opportunity for God to work, and for you to seek God in the midst of whatever is going on around you. The little word "yet" tells the story...there is still hope.

Jim Abernathy