A friend recently shared a thought-provoking adage with me: In every relationship, someone is being trained. Like all maxims, the pithy statement contains a limited truth. In the best of relationships, we submit to one another, both training and being trained.

Consider the concept on a broader scope.

• In our relationship with our smart phones, are we training or being trained?
• In our relationship with the internet, are we training or being trained?
• In our relationship with social media, are we training or being trained?
• In our relationship with unchurched people, are we training or being trained?
• In our relationship with children about attending Sunday School and church, are we training or being trained?
• In our relationship with the world, are we training or being trained?

In every relationship, someone is being trained.

Are we formed by the world or transformed by the Lord?

The North Georgia Conference of the United Methodist Church recently published its 2024 Handbook. Exciting news, I know. Order a copy today.

The reference includes a Chronological Roll of ordained elders based on their dates of ordination. Each year surviving pastors ascend in order as their predecessors move to that Great Parsonage in the Sky.

I currently rank #222 on the roll BUT #1 among active clergy. Everyone ordained before me on the list has retired. I continue to evaluate my feelings about the dubious honor.

Bishop Joel McDavid ordained twenty-seven elders in The Class of 1984. A group photo on the front steps of Glenn Memorial UMC captured our faces. A few colleagues died along the way. Some left the ministry for various reasons. Others retired.

I take pride in forty-three years of full-time ministry; but I possess the humility to recognize God’s sustaining grace throughout my vocation. The Lord has worked in, thru, and despite me to accomplish the divine will.  

My bucket list excludes ascending to #1 on the Chronological Roll, but no one knows when its time to leave the party. One day every believer will go onward and upward from the church militant to the church triumphant. We join the Psalmist in praying for the wisdom to number our days.

Until that glorious day, I am #222 with a bullet.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Friday, March 13, 2020. Governor Kemp declared a public health emergency in Georgia. Citizens sheltered-in-place as the COVID pandemic raged.

Consumers hoarded disinfectants, paper towels, toilet paper, plastic gloves, and face masks. We learned new vocabulary like flatten the curve, personal protective equipment, essential workers, contact tracing, and Zoom meetings.

Non-essential businesses closed overnight. Churches cancelled activities for days that extended into weeks and months. We incorrectly assumed normalcy would return by Easter. Northside Church eventually resumed onsite worship the following fall.

The World Health Organization declared the pandemic’s end in May 2023. Approximately 1.2 million people died in the United States. Most of us lost family members or friends.

This week marks the fifth anniversary of Governor Kemp’s emergency declaration. A new normal governs post-pandemic culture. The medical profession treats COVID like the flu, inconvenient for most but life-threatening for some.   

The pandemic taught costly lessons about prioritizing family, friends, and faith. Major on the majors, and minor on the minors. Life’s fragility and brevity inspire a focus on the eternal and everlasting.  

 But . . . humans and societies soon forget. The world entices the five senses. The urgent demands attention and diminishes perspective. YOLO and FOMO inspire a focus on the temporal and passing.

March 13, 2025. Pause this week to give thanks for life’s many blessings. Pray for the wisdom to number our days.

Remember you are dust and to dust you will return.

Repent and believe in the Gospel.

Amen.