Today in Sacramento there was an actual thunder storm. As someone from the Midwest, I can say ‘real’ thunderstorms are rare in California. Today, though, my girls were eating their breakfast and I was making coffee in my aero press when, in a matter of two seconds, the power went out and there was an enormous clap of thunder that set off my car alarm.
I smiled with delight.
Haddisen (3 years old) was shocked and then smiled.
Bryleigh (4 years old) put her hands over her ears and cried.
I calmed the situation and then explained what thunder really is. I explained that it is one of my favorite things.
I also told them the story of Nikola Tesla, the brilliant inventor, engineer, and designer of the alternating current (AC) electricity supply system, who was known to sit near his window during a thunder storm. He would sit and wait until the next thunder clap when he would rise to his feet to give God a standing ovation.
Pslam 96:5-8 says:
“But the LORD made the heavens
Splendor and majesty are before Him
Strength and beauty are in His sanctuary.
ASCRIBE to the LORD, O families of the peoples
ASCRIBE to the LORD glory and strength
ASCRIBE to the Lord the glory of His name.”
“Ascribe” means to attribute something to something or someone else. We are to attribute great and powerful and beautiful things to God. The LORD does and provides these things; they are not coincidence or simply natural reactions. God is to be ascribed these things.
The girls loved this idea and for the rest of the morning we all three clapped for God with each thunder roll and clap. Haddie would even copy me each time saying, “Dadda, how cool!!!”
It has been since June that I resigned just after starting this journal. Journals have legs to walk with you through various journeys and seasons. Journals have backs and hearts to carry a great deal of things so you do not have to.
This journal is a gift from a friend I have not seen or spoken with in many years. It was a random gift which arrived just before an enormous life change I did not foresee at the time. This journal came to me from a friend who has always been a strong encouragement to “Keep writing. Always keep writing.” This journal came from this friend just before a season where it would have been easy to cease writing.
This journal has carried a lot of the things I never wanted to carry. If I could only displace those thoughts and processes on the back and heart of this journal, I could get through days, which would have been otherwise very discouraging and debilitating.
This journal contains the weak prayers of limping through the process of learning to ask God ‘what’ instead of ‘why’. I rarely get answers to ‘why’ questions, but I have learned to look at any and all circumstances asking, “God, what are you doing in me through this?”
This journal contains notes for interviews come and gone for positions I thought were great, if not perfect, but clearly not where God was guiding and calling me.
This journal contains notes for sermons along the way for beloved groups who, unaware to them, gave shock paddles to my heart by giving me opportunities to do what I love in a season when my heart was weak and confused for the future.
This journal has been able to carry the promise of prayer my heart made for the new year. It proves that the challenge remains. It is written in ink after all.
This journal, #38, passes a baton to #39 with promise and hope attached. It uses the discouragement and healing as a springboard to speak to my heart, “You are a better leader, husband, and father than you were before we began walking together, but more importantly, you are closer to the heart of Jesus than you were before we met.”
Abba, I belong to You. Abba! I have allowed the fact I can address You with such intimacy and tenderness to become far too plain and pallid. It has been years since I have allowed myself to wonder and gawk at the fact You have given me a spirit of Sonship by which I can address you as “Abba Father!” (Rom. 8:15)
I have known for too long or too familiarly that “Abba” is the equivalent of our English “Daddy”. I have known that children would slowly learn the term Abba to address their father with an intimate tenderness. I have known it was and has been a scandal to the pious and righteous that you would be addressed with such intimacy.
That You who created this world out of the power of your voice, You by whose beauty and glory the Grand Canyon is dwarfed, You who hold all things together in life-sustaining precision, would ask to be addressed in such tenderly intimate terms has truly become too common and plain to me.
This is my confession and my repentance today. May I recognize and rest today in the wonder of the intimate spirit within me, who can address you so tenderly as my Abba!
In the last few weeks, I have made a connection with the website thumbtack.com
It is a great service to professionals in various fields who would like to allow others know more about their services and talents. It has been a great connector for me as a speaker, writer, and even as an officiant.
The entire website allows for a freedom to accept and decline for the professional and for the customer if the services are not able to fulfill expectations (for instance: I am not likely to accept a wedding as that wishes to have ‘mention of God’ or a variety of other possibilities like scheduling, distance, etc.)
I would appreciate it if you know anyone who might need a speaker, writer, or other things listed here on my website to also direct them to My Thumbtack Profile.
Have you ever spoken a word of the gospel to anyone at my workplace?
In my imagination, I see an interview about my evangelistic fame. I REALLY saw my past coworkers respond, “Huh? PC? Famous for WHAT? Well, I don’t know….PC was a great guy. I mean I knew he was a Christian, but he didn’t come in here preaching or anything. He was pretty cool about it. He knew I was an alcoholic, and he still laughed with me.” “You know,” says another, “now that I think about it; I can remember times when the store was crazy, and PC kept working hard to help where he didn’t really HAVE to. I don’t know how many times he helped us in a bind. I never noticed it then, but in retrospect, that guy really did work hard.” “Yeah,” chimes another. “He knew my husband was killed in a car accident last year, which left me to raise 2 teenagers alone, and PC listened to me every time I was stressed by kids, pained over my loss of companion, or just tired of work. You know what? I really think he cared about what I was going through, and I think he shared the joy somehow.” Similar stories go around in this hypothetical interview of my coworkers. Then the journalist goes to the coffee shop I ALWAYS go to. He talks to ALL my friends and family…Christian and NON-Christian.
After its over the imaginary article reads, “PC Walker was an evangelist. PC writes in his book, “Christians are so devoted to speaking the gospel (God’s love) to or at people instead of living the gospel toward people.” (pg. random #, see footnote). His living out of the gospel reached more people than all the sermons he ever preached, more than any book he has ever written.”
I hope that, in reality, I will be remembered by everyone I will have moved on and left in my past as a man who lived the gospel better than he preached or wrote it…..
A few weeks ago, I was given the opportunity to speak at Pepperdine University in Malibu, CA. Their theme for the year was PEACE and their theme verse was Philippians 4:7.
Can I come speak at your church, retreat, camp, or event this summer or fall? I would love to chat about those opportunities. Click over to my SPEAKING PAGE and we can figure something out.
I performed a combination of two pieces at The Worship Conference NorCal this past weekend. I was asked for the text of the piece. So if you are interested, here it is.
He told me “We’re very proud of the ministry we have here.”
“We have worked very hard to build a well-oiled machine.”
He went on to describe what I could only assume to be
parts of his machine and turned to ask if could see myself as a
part of his ministry, and I wish he hadn’t asked.
You see, some people build ministry
like a well-oiled machine.
They put in all their time, money, and people in hopes
that the machine will produce
the right produce, the right person, the right number
beware when your ministry becomes a well-oiled machine
for machines have not hearts
And some people build ministry like a well-oiled machine
that keeps breaking down.
They put in all their time, money, and people
and the machine will not produce.
Take courage, my friends; it is still a machine
and machines have not hearts
Machines have no need for miracles
they only ask for miracles
and then operate in ways to make miracles unnecessary
Machines are built with big budgets and bigger buildings
and I wish I could write these words in braille
so someone could feel what I’m saying
You don’t need God
to build a machine
But worship is for the broken ones
smart enough to know how foolish they are
It is for those who have tried and found life lacking
but are not content to confess that ‘this’ is all there is
If is for those wearied of wondering
if our crying hearts might drown us
but know that our tears are telescopes to heaven
looking through trembling lenses for hope
and deeper senses of home
It is for those who don’t need church
to be a menagerie of saints but an emergency room for sinners
it is for those whose shadows are faint
from finding too much light
Worship is for those who will step out onto nothing
hoping to land on something
because accepting that you are accepted
is a perception of yourself not everyone can afford
it is for the wobbly and weak-kneed
who have let loose the luxury of denying a handout
of amazing grace
It is for those who chose a path
though straight and narrow
is still rugged and beaten you are still on the right path
Worship is for phobic confessor
who could never match the projections of the pious
but know that perfection is a gangly wire
no one could ever walk
It is for the child who holds
that heaven is full of five year olds
sparing themselves the futility of proving themselves
to people who will never speak your language
of half cartoon, half boo boo, half “Daddy, I love you.”
Three halves make one
more than whole
Do not accept yourself as you should be
but as you are because you will never be as you should be
Quit rinsing your filthy rags in gas station bathrooms
as if hand soap and make believe
will make them believe you belong;
but you belong.
You belong to a kingdom
belonging to people not trying to cleaner than they are
You belong
Worship is for the sin-soaked and the broken
who are loved and outspoken
knowing unworthy is not the same as worthless
It is for the paupers
who have made peace with their flaws
It is for those who have prayed in silence
but have never ceased to pray
Worship is for you
do not for one second take your gift for granted
make sure it is contagious
because while it is yours to have
it is only valuable in its giving away
be sure your every conversation
leaves a sensation of love
because this is where the mighty descend and the lowly rise
to comprise what we all crave
Worship is standing on the lip of the Grand Canyon
with a contagious tour guide tell you to
“Look at THIS! Look at THAT! Look at THIS! Look at THAT!”
and if the Grand Canyon is only a faint shadow of God’s glory
you have to wonder, “What must HE be like?”
You are not a worship singer, a backup vocalist, a drummer
a guitarist, a basist, or a sound tech
You are a worship leader
You are a tour guide to God’s glory
So stand and shout for all who will listen
“Look at THIS! Look at THAT! Look at THIS!”
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 13,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 3 Film Festivals
Today in Sacramento there was an actual thunder storm. As someone from the Midwest, I can say ‘real’ thunderstorms are rare in California. Today, though, my girls were eating their breakfast and I was making coffee in my aero press when, in a matter of two seconds, the power went out and there was an enormous clap of thunder that set off my car alarm.
PC Walker 