The Best Place to Be

I just returned from five days with 1,400 friends at the National Pastors Convention in San Diego. My mind is still swirling.

It was a place to meet new friends, like Horace and Susan and Rick. Horace teaches hematology at a Chicago hospital and, oh yes, has also been pastoring an apostolic church of 4,000 on Chicago's South Side for 17 years. Susan, Horace's wife, is a registered nurse and pastors alongside her husband. Rick chairs the board of a Lutheran church near Detroit. He came to the convention with his pastor so they could enjoy some time together and develop their understanding of the church.

The four of us found ourselves in the same foursome at the convention golf tournament. Playing "best ball," we managed a round of even par, which wasn't even close to a winning score. (I'm not sure what that says about today's church leaders.) But I know that our little group—Pentecostal, Lutheran, and Baptist—learned a lot from each other, very little of it having to do with golf.

It was a place to renew friendships, sometimes with pain attached. A pastor and his wife, with whom I had shared a meal last year and had been so impressed with their gentle and caring spirit, met me in a quiet corner to tell me that their church had just fired them—and the entire church staff—two weeks ago.

Even after twenty years of hearing church war stories, this one stunned me. Together we discussed possible next steps and committed the future to Jesus.

Each day we worshiped, led by the clear tenor voice of Paul Baloche, whose song "Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord" is one our church often sings to express the aspiration of those coming to worship. We experienced a wide range of other worship forms—from the blaring brass and driving rhythms of the Latin band Salvador, to the footwork of the urban dancers/youthgroup Steps of Praise, to the watch-me-while-I- work experience of Mike Lewis, the Jesuspainter, who can produce a powerful painting while you're singing your songs of worship.

Perhaps the most lasting impression, however, was the phrase that one of the speakers implanted deeply into my mind. Bishop Ken Ulmer, who pastors Faithful Central Bible Church in Inglewood, California, which holds its services in the Great Western Forum, the former home of Los Angeles Lakers, spoke from Jeremiah 1:7-9.

"You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you," declares the Lord. Then the Lord reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, "Now I have put my words in your mouth."

As only a masterful African-American preacher can do, he introduced a memorable phrase and explored each nuance with oratorical skill: "His word in my mouth; my life in His hand." The word we preach isn't ours; it's God's. Our role is to give voice to God's words. At times that will be accompanied by great risk. Our comfort and our challenge—at all times—is to place our life squarely in God's hand.

A sermon I can still quote, from memory, almost a week after I heard it. Now that's preachin'!

But then, what else would you expect from a truly National Pastor's Convention.

Marshall Shelley is editor of Leadership.

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