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It was a traumatic day in the life of my brother and me.  We were moving—to Texas.  For true Razorback fans it was like going from the Promised Land to Egypt.  To add to the trauma, on the day that we packed the Ryder moving van, my brother and I witnessed our dad run over, destroy, and obliterate, the one thing that we prized above all things as sports-loving kids—our basketball goal.  At the time, it seemed as though the events of that day would be a sign of things to come.  But now, some 30 years later, they were simply a metaphor for what it means to fully abandon your life for the sake of following Christ with a magnificent obsession.

Laying down a promising career as an accountant, and leaving behind all that this world says is important, left an indelible mark on the lives of many people, especially my brother and me, as he surrendered to the call of God on his life to full-time Christian ministry.  Such surrender, though, is the true essence of godliness.  Not only does it reflect the beauty of Christ and His transforming power in the life of a believer, it also leaves footprints on the journey for those who follow behind, leading to a true understanding of who God is.  It is for this reason that I pay tribute to my dad, and not because he is perfect—he isn’t; but because he is one of the godliest men I know.

Throughout my life, he has shown love by investing in me, disciplining me (not my favorite, just for the record), mentoring me, and in all things showing me Jesus Christ.  The godly life that I strive to exemplify each day in my life is because I desire to be more like Jesus, and because it continues to be modeled in the life of a godly man who just happens to be my dad.  I am humbled to be so blessed.  So, in this relatively small way, it is my desire to praise and honor him.

In some sense it is easy to understand what John, who was greatly impacted by the Messiah, must have meant when he wrote in his gospel that there were more things, many more things, he could have written about Jesus; and if they were all recorded, the world would not have room for all the books written.
Because I have been greatly impacted by my dad, there are many more things that could be said about him.  But if it is even possible to sum up in a simple statement this tribute, it could be this:  the shadow of my father’s godliness has been cast largely behind him, and my brother, myself, and our families are blessed to walk in his shade.

I love you dad.  Happy Father’s Day.

Some of life’s greatest lessons are learned in moments of affliction.  Those times are not easy to accept, nor are they easy to experience, but affliction happens; and how you navigate through them can be life-transforming or life-destroying.

One of the greatest kings who has ever ruled, David, wrote about his own experiences and what he learned from them.  He said, “Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I keep your word . . .It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes.”  Psalm 119:67, 71 I wonder if David, who was a shepherd before he was a king, was thinking back to his days in the sheep fields.  There would be times, I’m certain, when a sheep would wander off from the flock and be in need of rescue.  Who knows, maybe David dealt with several rogue sheep over the course of his shepherding career.  It’s certainly not uncommon.

In his book “In His Hand,” Roy Gustafson tells the true story of his encounter with a shepherd in Israel whom he saw carrying a sheep that had a splint and bandage on its leg.  The guide that was leading the tour group told Roy that the shepherd himself had broken the sheep’s leg because that particular sheep had the habit of wandering off and leading other sheep astray as well.  The purpose, it was told, behind the shepherd breaking the leg of the sheep was to teach the sheep not to wander off.  I guess it could have been worse . . .”Honey, we’re eating rebel sheep tonight.”

“Before I was afflicted, I went astray . . .” Before God afflicted me, I wandered.  There were things I pursued, places I went, people I hung out with, dreams I chased, plans I made, all of which led me in a different direction away from God’s presence and purposes.  “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.” Proverbs 14:12 Straying only leads to destruction.  And then God does something hurtfully loving . . .he breaks your leg.  That’s loving?  It reminds me of that line in “Evan Almighty,” when Steve Carell says, “God, do me a favor.  Love me less.”  But the truth is, He can’t love you less.  So, He breaks your leg.  Then He splints it; bandages it; and does something amazingly beautiful and gracious . . . He carries you.  And this is what I’ve learned:  it’s in His carrying us during our affliction that we learn the love of the Shepherd (Jesus), and that His ways are always the right ways that lead to life, peace, purpose, joy and security.  “It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes.” Psalm 119:71

Maybe your leg is broken right now, and you are feeling the affliction.  Are you letting Christ carry you, and are you learning His ways?  Or are you trying to make your own way on a broken leg only to find yourself at the edge of the proverbial cliff that leads to destruction?  Afflictions happen, but how you respond during those moments will be the difference between learning His ways that lead to life, or limping off on your own trying to nurse a wound that will never heal.

First let me say “thanks” to all of you who have commented on the “Domino Effect” video.  For those who have not seen what I am talking about, you can check it out at www.inglewoodbaptist.com and click on the “media” tab.  Over the next several weeks, more videos with study guides will be available for purchase through Pay-Pal at shawnbarnard.com.  The purpose of the videos is for you to be able to use them as a resource that will serve as a discussion starter for a small or large  group Bible study.

It is my desire to provide you with top quality videos that clearly communicate the life changing truth of Christ and the principles we find in His Word, as well as leave you challenged to seek out how to apply the truth.

If you have any questions, please email me at shawn.barnard@mac.com

For His fame and renown,

Shawn

Not long ago I shared with you about my oldest son, Kevin.  But tonight I want to tell you about Kameron, or Kam-Dog as I call him.  He wasn’t too fond of that nickname at first for some reason.  Personally I think it has an edge to it . . .attitude . . .the kind of nickname that causes kids younger than you to wish they had a cool nickname too.  Plus it sounded a lot better than Kam-Cat.  Kam-aroni.  Kam-dude.  Kam-a-lam-a-rama.  I’ve got nothing.

Kameron is, perhaps, one of the funniest and quick-witted people I know.  He loves to laugh, and to make people laugh.  And he loves to check things out, and I don’t mean library books.  Let me explain . . .

My cousin was getting married.  You can imagine the setting; it wasn’t much different than most weddings.  It was at a large church, it was decorated nicely, and everyone was excited about this big day.  Prior to the wedding, Jennifer, the kids and I were hanging out with our family in the foyer.  I’m not certain of the exact time of the wedding, but I do know that about 10 minutes from this sacred ceremony, the fire alarm goes off.  As you can imagine, panic ensued.  The crowd in the foyer began to disperse, looking for a fire.  My natural reaction was to make sure that my family was all together, and it was then that I noticed Kameron slowly backing away from the wall which just happened to be the location of the fire alarm.  (Note to those who build buildings with fire alarms:  put it above the reach of little kids)  Yep, he did it.  Pulled the alarm handle down.  The temptation was too great, and his curiosity was just too strong.  So . . . what was going through my mind was how I was going to explain this to my cousin, and the rest of the crowd that was there.  At the same time I was fearing the worst:  that the church had a sprinkler system in the worship center.  Thoughts of candles being doused and decorations being ruined were running through my mind.  It wasn’t long . . . like minutes . . .until the fire department showed up, and I greeted them.  “Hey, how’s it going?  Um, my son, the one over there with his hands cuffed and hanging upside down, he pulled the alarm down.  There’s no fire, everything is fine.”  They didn’t accept my explanation.  As protocol dictates, they were obligated to check out the whole facility.  Great.  There wasn’t a pew large enough for me to hide under.  And then it hit me when my uncle (the father of the bride) said, “That’s little Shawn.”  Needless to say, memories were made that day . . . just ask my cousin.

Tomorrow, Kameron goes to camp for the first time.  Part of me is excited about this new adventure in his journey; and then there is part of me realizes that it is just one more step towards him growing up and the inevitable “little letting-gos.”   I have no doubt that God is shaping Kameron, and even now using him in ways that are making an eternal difference.  He certainly has made a difference in my life.

I could tell you more funny stories about Kam, but they are too many to mention here.  He is mischeiveous, curious, quick-witted, intelligent, animated, articulate, outgoing, and loves Jesus Christ with all his heart.  He has blessed my life in ways that are hard to express in words, but without a doubt he has made me a better man, and I pray a better father.

After what seemed like a week of traveling, and feeling as though we should’ve been in Canada, we finally made it to Steamboat Springs, Colorado.  All in all, it wasn’t a bad trip, but it was eventful.  Within two hours, while in Colorado, we experienced sunshine and hot temperatures; rain; hail; tornadoes; and snow.  I had to check the map twice to make sure we were in Colorado and not Oz.  It was amazing.

We decided to stop for lunch in Denver and ended up at the Texas Roadhouse in Aurora.  The food was good, our waitress was from Massachusetts, and the weather, unbeknownst to us, was changing outside.  It had just starting raining as we left the restaurant, and the wind had picked up.

After getting in the van, and continuing our trek through Denver, the rain started coming down in drops the size of water balloons it seemed.  And then, it hailed.  I’m not talking pea-size hail . . . golf ball sized hail.  It literally sounded like the hail was going to come through the roof of the van.  The hail was coming down so much that we, along with ever car in front of us on I-225, stopped for cover under an overpass.  It looked like a parking lot on the freeway.  No one was observing the lanes; I thought I was in Zambia again.

I saw a break in the clouds toward the direction we were traveling, and after weaving my way through the logjam on the freeway, drove as quickly (and almost legally) as I could away from the storm.  Kristen, who was sitting directly behind me yelled, “Oh my gosh, there’s a tornado!”  And sure enough, in the area where we had just eaten lunch, we could see a well-defined tornado coming down out of the clouds and moving quickly towards the ground.  We found out later on the news that there had been 5 tornadoes, one of which had hit in the area where we had eaten lunch.   So . . . that was the hail and tornado part of the trip.

Same day, just about an hour or so later, it snowed on us as we made our way over Berthoud Pass (elevation about 9,000 ft.).  We stopped and took photos along the way of a raging creek of runoff snow coming down from the mountains, and took in the scenery.  How anyone can believe there is no God is beyond belief to me.

More to come as we vacation.

This morning I have been chewing on a passage of Scripture, and a thought brought to light by John Piper.  In the poetic work that Job pens, Eliphaz says of God, “As for me, I would seek God, and to God would commit my cause, who does great things and unsearchable, marvelous things without number:he gives rain on the earth and sends water on the fields . . .”  (Job 5:8-10)  

I can understand what Piper means when, at first glance, it seems that something more significant, or majestic, or even mysterious than rain could have been given as an illustration of “great things” . . . or “unsearchable, marvelous.”  But isn’t that just it for us many times?  Don’t we just carelessly glance at all that God has done and is doing?  We take for granted things like rain, and fail to see the wonder behind it.  We expect the sun to come up; the moon to shine; the stars to shimmer; leaves to change colors.  I could go on, but I think you get the point.  When’s the last time you saw the sun set while driving home, or as you sat on the front porch, or gazed out your window, and instead of thinking that it was a beautiful sight thought to yourself, “Wow, God, how do you do it?  That is amazing!”?  It’s a tragic thing when God’s ways and wonders become all too familiar to us.  

Here’s what I’ve learned this morning from my time of listening to God’s voice:  our understanding of His majesty and splendor is magnified as we meditate on, chew on, think on, struggle with Him and His ways.  It’s not that He is magnified–He’s already magnified in that He cannot be anymore majestic, splendid, and glorious than He already is.  But we ascribe glory to Him as our understanding of who He is deepens through meditating on His Word and His wonders.  So, let it rain, and may we meditate deeply.  Let it rain, and let us proclaim that there is no God like our God.  He is incomparable and matchless.  No one is His equal.  His ways are unsearchable and marvelous.  Today I pray we are left breathless and in awe of His wonder.

Sometimes I call him “K-Man.”  At other times, “Smiley”–he’s got the best smile, which makes it hard when I’m getting on to him about something.  He’s one of the coolest kids I know, and he just happens to be my oldest son.  For those of you who know Kevin, you understand what I’m talking about; for those of you who don’t, let me explain, and hopefully one day you’ll have the pleasure of meeting him.

Kevin has a way of challenging me without him even being aware of it.  Not too long ago Kevin and I went golfing.  Let me rephrase that . . . I went golfing; he just wanted to drive the golf cart.  For some reason, he must have thought we were in a 4×4 because we went places golf carts aren’t intended to go.  After about 6 holes, he asked, “How am I doing, dad?”  The only answer I could get out of my mouth was, “We’re still breathing.”  I thought about saying, “Stop driving like your mother,” but I knew he would talk.  Seriously though, we had a great time jumping curbs and forging through water hazards.  And the sand traps . . . I won’t even go there. 

But it was on the 10th hole that God spoke to me through Kevin, and I’ll never forget it.  I had just hit an awesome, Tiger-Woodsesque drive . . .(it’s my blog and I can embellish if I want to) . . . so I’m in the rough.  After finally getting on the green, Kevin hands me the putter.  As I begin to line up the putt, I say to Kevin, “Hey, why don’t you come over here and putt this thing in.”  And this was his response:  ”Dad, that wouldn’t be right because we didn’t pay for me to play.  That’d be like stealing, wouldn’t it?”  

“Ummm . . .yeah, Kev, I was just testing your level of integrity, son.  You passed.”  Are you kidding me?  Now I know that there might be some of you who would say, “It’s just a putt, no big deal.  Isn’t that a little unrealistic, unreasonable, legalistic?”  Not to Kevin.  And in that moment of being slammed with a challenge, inside I was overwhelmed at what my son had just displayed.  Integrity.  Maybe he wouldn’t have called it that, but he verbalized, in the truest sense, what the essence of integrity is.  

Often times you wonder, as a parent, if your kids are getting it.  Here’s what I’ve learned:  if you’re speaking it, and modeling it, they’re going to catch it.  And that is true whether what you are speaking and doing is right or wrong.  They’re going to catch whatever it is that you are giving your life fully to.  Sobering thought, but true nonetheless.  

I have pledged my life to fully follow Jesus, even though I feel at times that I’ve trumped the apostle Paul at being the chief of sinners.  As well, as  I follow Christ, my prayer and aim is that I will continue to become an authentic man worthy of both my sons emulating–a man who rejects passivity, accepts responsibility, leads courageously, and expects God’s greater reward.  

On the golf course I saw a glimpse of Kevin’s journey to authentic manhood.  And even though he never took a putt, he by far had the best shot of the day.

Although I was hoping to blog each day while in Zambia, it just wasn’t going to happen.  Needless to say, it’s Africa.  There was an “internet connection,” but it was like riding a slug when you’re use to a Ferrari.  The first day I tried to load a page, it took 10 minutes . . . just for the text.  As a friend of mine says, “Africa wins again.”

So . . .

There is much to be said in the upcoming posts simply because it cannot all be said now.  For those of you who have had the privilege of engaging in missions, especially in 3rd world countries, there is always much to be processed.  One thing that I’ve learned, after my sixth trip to Africa, is that no trip is ever routine.  It is never mundane, or typical.  It is always unique.  If you listen, and go with eyes-wide-open, and your heart equally receptive, there is much you will learn; and question; and chew on; and cry over; and be changed by it all.

People often ask me, “How was it?  Tell me all about it.”  And I try.  But there are no words that could ever adequately describe the experience.  You just have to go . . . and quite honestly, you should.  Maybe not to Africa, but somewhere.  Whether it’s in a third-world country or across the street visiting with a neighbor, the location of your mission engagement is not what makes the experience indescribable.  It’s the activity of God in that place that makes the experience impossible to put into words.  Wherever it is, you should go.  And the reason you should go is because, as Christ-followers, we are called to do so.  It really isn’t an option if obedience is the desire of your heart.

For the past five years, I have had the privilege of spending time in Zambia, Africa.  My heart, it seems, is drawn there.  As a matter of fact, I often tell people that my second home is Zambia . . . and I mean it.  I can’t put my finger on why, but my heart is wrapped around the people; and what God is doing there resonates deeply within me.  Perhaps it’s working with orphans at the Chande Orphanage in Ndeke township.  I’m not certain of all the details of Heaven, but it seems that God gives me a glimpse and a taste of what it might be like when I walk into a room of 260 children who are singing “Here I Am to Worship,” and they are smiling and singing with angelic voices like they truly mean it.

Or, it could be that I am so drawn there because the taste of death is palatable, both phyisically and spiritually.  These people, not unlike the other 1.6 billion unreached people in the world, are in need of the life that is only found in Jesus Christ.  I am humbled that God allowed me to see 313 people give their lives to Christ while we were there.  And I have been changed by one in particular, whose surrender will be forever etched in my memory.  The story goes like this . . . I was asked to preach a three night crusade at a “soccer field” in a township called Wusakile, just outside of Kitwe–a city of close to 1.2 million people.  On the second night of the crusade, the crowd gathered as two choirs from local churches began to sing on the make-shift stage that was constructed by men from local churches in a matter of just a day and a half.  If you had seen what they had to work with, and what they built, you would be amazed.  By the time the music had finished, and just before I got up to speak, there was a moment where I caught just a glimpse, perhaps, of what it must have been like for Jesus when the crowds would gather to hear Him speak.  From the stage I could see those who had gathered in front of the platform, but on the fringes people were sitting on logs; leaning against trees; standing outside bars; even across the highway people were standing and listening.  It was an amazing thing.  As I finished the message, and desperately tried hard not to worry about the bugs that were flying in my mouth and the grasshopper that had taken up residence on the back of my neck during the sermon, the invitation was given to anyone who wanted to come and talk with a counselor about giving their life to Christ.  And this is what I’ll never forget:  an middle-aged man, from the back of the crowd, began to walk forward.  But as he was coming to the stage, both of his hands were held high in the air.  His head was somewhat bowed down.  Out of all the people that were coming down, he caught my attention.  This man understood what it meant to completely surrender.  As a matter of fact, as he approached the stage to talk with a counselor, he was led to a grassy area just to the left of the stage, and even then he still had his hands up.  The counselor was the one who lowered this man’s hands.  Talk about fighting back the tears.  In all honesty, the song that kept coming to my mind was, “All to Jesus, I surrender.  All to Him I freely give.  I will ever love and trust Him, in His daily presence live.  I surrender all.  I surrender all.  All to Jesus, I surrender.  I surrender all.”

For me, the take-away is this:  Everyday should be lived with such surrender.  It’s impossible to cling to that which steals our affections when we come to Jesus with both hands open, and lifted high.  So, here’s to living today with open hands, lifted high, so that we might embrace the one who is worthy of our surrender.

(more to come and with photos)

So . . today the journey begins.  As of now, I am sitting in terminal “D” at D/FW, wating to board the long flight to Zambia, Africa,  via London.  There are 14 of us who are traveling, many of whom have never walked on African soil.  We are anticipating God to move in a way that would completely overwhelm us, and praying that He would use us for His fame and renown.

I pray that God would unleash His glory in the midst of a people who are in desperate need; that He, as Isaiah said, would rend the heavens and come down.  Some, to be sure, are dying from AIDS . . . a disease that is ravaging a nation.  But even more prevalent is the spiritual longing of a people in need of Jesus Christ.

My hope is that each day I’ll have the opportunity to update you on what God is doing here in Zambia.  I invite you to pray for those to whom we will be ministering . . . that they might come to know the love, hope, forgiveness and life that is only found in Jesus.

More to come on the journey.

It’s never easy describing what you experience on a mission trip.  There aren’t enough words in the English language, and even if there were I’m not sure that you could find the right ones that would accurately describe the experience.  It’s like the apostle John trying to record what he saw when he wrote down the Revelation given to him.  He described the best he knew how with the limited words he was familiar with at the time.  

As of now, I’m in Ecuador, South America (Otavalo, Ecuador to be exact) with a team from Compassion International.  In short, Compassion’s purpose is releasing children from poverty in Jesus’ name; and for the past three days I have witnessed that purpose vividly expressed in a way that has left an indelible mark on my life.  

I have heard story after story from children whose lives have been changed by Compassion’s ministry, and whose eyes beam with a sense of hope and purpose for the future.  Without a doubt, God is changing the lives of people here, Compassion is just a tool.  

More to come as I process this.  When you experience God’s Spirit moving in the lives of people, and you are right in the middle of it all, it’s like trying to drink from a fire hydrant.  It takes time to take it all in.