Pageant Devotional Book 2004

This booklet was prepared for the 25th anniversary of the Heart of America Christmas Pageant at First Baptist Church of Raytown, Missouri.  Over the course of ten performances, we presented the gospel to over 20,000 individuals.

Prayer for a Pageant

Once again, pageant season is upon us.  Some of you have been busy with this production for some time now, while others won’t get serious about it until after Thanksgiving.  Wherever you fall on that spectrum, the time to begin praying for pageant is now.

In the following pages, you’ll find devotions and prayer suggestions.  Twenty-five of the devotions are related to our first twenty-five years of productions.  As you progress through those, reading about various people’s first years and so forth, I’d like you to recognize yourself as a participant in writing the history of this event—and the history of the gospel.

Read and enjoy, but above all, pray for the pageant.  Pray that hundreds—even thousands—of lost souls will find their way into the kingdom as a result of our efforts.  Pray each day that many complacent Christians will be stirred to new fervor by our performances.  Pray that God will use the pageant experience to touch and teach scores of our cast and crew, drawing them closer to himself.  Perhaps most important, pray that God will use this season to write his will more clearly on your heart.

This is the fifth of these little books.  You might see a few parts of those previous books in the ensuing pages.  These forty-three devotions represent part of my offering to this project.  They’re a product of a gift God gave me, but they do little by themselves. Together as a team, as a subset of a church, we can amplify this offering as we lift up our voices as one to the Mighty God whom we all serve.  May these words serve to focus our thoughts on Christ, and may all the glory be given to him.

--Mark Browning

P.S.—If you want to continue inflicting my thoughts on yourself all year, check out the daily devotions that are posted at www.tunemyheart.net.

Pray Regularly For . . .

Salvation of the lost

Gene Calhoun

Larry Jones

Judy Hastings

Choir

Orchestra

Lighting Crew

Sound Crew

Video Crew

Backstage Crew

Set Construction Team

Costume Team

Prop Team

Actors

Soloists

Children

Security Team

Ushers

Parking Lot Crew

Childcare Workers

Food Providers

Church Staff

Pageant budget

Health of all involved

Safety of all involved

People you’ve invited

November 1

Scripture: 1 Corinthians 1:31

If there’s one thing that drives me crazy, it’s the endless string of entertainment awards shows on TV.  We have the People’s Choice Awards, Oscars, Emmys, Tonys, Grammys, Golden Globes, and many others.  I realize the people who win these awards or are “just honored to be nominated” probably think it’s great shakes, but I’m not impressed.  After all, somebody has to make the best picture of the year.  Is it really that big a deal.  Best reality TV show?  Give me a break!

As irritating as the awards shows are, the pinnacle of my annoyance comes when they award a “Lifetime Achievement Award.”  A career-capping award to Charlton Heston, I can see.  He’s pretty well done with his career, but they’ve honored Richard Gere and Meryl Streep this way.  They’re still in the prime of life!  And what is a Lifetime Achievement Award other than an excuse for everybody in the audience to leap to their feet, applaud loud and long, and silently hope that they’ll “do it me” next year?

Okay, maybe that’s sour grapes, but I’m reminded of this matter as I look at the great twenty-fifth anniversary pageant.  Isn’t it great?  How many of you were in the first pageant?  You’ll let us know.  Joy Hermann hasn’t missed a performance—ever!  Tony Claycomb has been a disciple since some of the real disciples were still alive.  And that’s all terrific.

But we simply must remember one thing.  Not one of our pageants in the past is important.  What’s important is 2004 and the gospel message reaching the young man in the fourth row or that woman in the right balcony.  We don’t give “Lifetime Achievement Awards.”  But I know someone who does.  So buckle down, good and faithful servant.  This show has only begun.

Pray for Gene Calhoun, Larry Jones, and Judy Hastings.

November 2--1979

Scripture: Colossians 3:23

She’s been known to be a trifle difficult.  She’s opinionated.  She’s demanding.  When Gene Calhoun announced in 1979 that the church would be producing a Christmas Pageant, Pamela Smith stood up to volunteer her energies and dedication.  And today, if you find yourself backstage or on the mountain, you’re still in Pamela’s domain.  She might be opinionated and demanding, but, unlike most people, she’s almost always right.

How long does it take to get Jesus from the trial to the back of the worship center with the cross?  Pamela knows.  She’s paced it off a dozen times, tried five alternate routes, and considered seventeen ways to make the process work more smoothly. 

If you remember the stage from the old building, you’ll know that it looked a bit like an explosion in a lumberyard, all covered with “mountain cloth.”  Although quite sturdy, that stage had developed over many years to accommodate a room that wasn’t really designed for such a creation.  The carpentry was solid, but sometimes non-standard.  Legend has it, however, that when shown a piece of wood, no bigger than your shoe, Pamela could tell you exactly where it went and what had to be in place before it could be added.  Few people think more about pageant than Pamela does.

And she’s still with us, still full of passion for this passion play.  If we could learn one thing from Pamela, it is to stay the course.  We might not all do pageant for twenty-five years, but we can, each of us, strive to maintain the same intensity and excitement in December  as we had when we first saw the script.  We don’t owe it to Pamela or Gene, but we do owe it to the Lord.

Pray for Pamela Smith and all of the backstage crew.

November 3—1980

Scripture:  Mark 11:24

No powerful work of God’s people proceeds without prayer.  We’ve all heard that statement before, and perhaps we even believe it.  Would it surprise you to know that the Heart of America Christmas Pageant is no exception.  Before we had an orchestra, a passarell, or wireless microphones, we had a vision for pageant.  And in the midst of that vision came a lady named Wilda Crain, who, for many years organized and led the prayer team.

When I started writing this prayer guide, I thought I was so clever putting the various prayer requests at the bottom of the page.  It turns out, though, that Wilda had done just such a prayer calendar for years before I ever thought about it.  This calendar called people to pray for the lost, for the construction of the set, and for the health and safety of the cast and crew.  Wilda lined up dozens of people to pray in preparation for the production, and enlisted teams of at least two people who prayed through each performance.  That’s a practice we really should reinstate.

One year, at a dress rehearsal, Wilda sat in the audience watching and realized that her husband, Bill, had struggled out of the sanctuary.  Complaining of a headache, Bill was taken to the hospital where the prognosis seemed rather grim:  a cerebral hemorrhage.  The prayer team who had been praying for Bill in the abstract now prayed in particular.  The next morning, the doctors performed another scan and couldn’t understand the results.  “Mrs. Crain,” the doctor said.  “Last night, we could see the blood coming down, but today, it’s as if nothing ever happened.”

Wilda remarks how her daughter, Cinda Rosenbaum, sat there poking her in the leg.  They both understood what had happened.  We have a great physician.  Isn’t it important for us to stay in contact with him?

Pray for an army of prayer warriors with you as a foot soldier

November 4—1981

Scripture: Proverbs 22:6

Unofficially, this young man played Jesus in the first pageant, but he wasn’t visible, since he wasn’t born until early in 1980.  His first actual appearance came in 1981 as two-year-old Jesus.  Jensen Petersen, Rosella’s grandson and the son of Paul and Donna, hasn’t quite been in pageant from the beginning, but he came as close as his existence would allow.

You might have missed Jensen, who used to play the trumpet for us pretty regularly, in recent months.  Somewhere during his college years, God grabbed Jensen’s ear and called him to the ministry.  After preaching anywhere that would endure him for a year or so, he has taken on the pastorate at First Baptist of Lone Jack.  Never mind that the boy is only about halfway done with his seminary training.  Jensen seems to be headed for fine service.

This shouldn’t come as a surprise, however.  I think we all knew that something must be in the plans for Jensen after that gravel truck ran over him and he recovered so marvelously.  No, God has his eye on this servant.

But of course, his survival of the gravel truck wasn’t Jensen’s first great blessing.  He’s been blessed by having godly grandparents and parents, people who laid a foundation upon which Jensen and the other Petersens can build.  Yes, Jensen’s family gave him a terrific inheritance of faith, something far more valuable than stocks and bonds.  He could still fritter it away, just as surely as he could a bank account, but we’ll pray that he invests that wealth wisely, passing it on to his own children.

Even if you don’t have children, you have a family in this church.  Like Hans and Rosella, Paul and Donna, you can help to lay a foundation on which these young people—or young in Christ—can build for tomorrow.  Yes, we produce our pageant for the lost, but it does a great work of discipleship as well.  Jensen’s not here to do it this year, so it’s up to us.

Pray for all of the children and youths who will be participating this year.

November 5—1982

Scripture: Isaiah 6:8

The pageant was still in its early years when Rosemary Hoover rolled into our lives.  You might know this lady as a fine alto, but if you know Rosemary long, you see her as an exceptionally nice person, a person at whom Jesus can unabashedly look and say, “She’s one of mine.”

Last year, Rosemary played the mother in our main family.  She also played a leading role in my first pageant.  Give her a solo and she’ll nail it.  Allow her a dramatic role and she’ll bring it to life.  Rosemary is a director’s dream.  (I’m sure I’m making her blush, too.)

But it’s not in the starring roles and glamorous solos that I find Rosemary to be inspiring.  Early this summer I asked her to do a brief monologue for Bible School.

“Are you available the morning of  June 12?” I asked.

She took a look at her calendar and then did the most remarkable thing.  She wrote something down.  Rosemary didn’t wait to hear what I was asking her to do.  I might have been expecting her to learn two hundred lines of medieval poetry.  She didn’t weigh the possibility of something else presenting itself.  She gave no apparent thought to how prestigious this duty might be.  For all she knew, I wanted her to empty trashcans.  But what did she do?  She just glanced at her calendar, found a blank space, and said, “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

Now I’m sure that if you talk with Rosemary, she could tell you a whole list of her weaknesses and sins.  Whatever her failings, however, Rosemary has one quality we can all emulate.  When there’s a task to be done, be it great or small, she says, “Here am I, Lord, send me.”

Pray for all the sopranos in the choir.

November 6—1983

Scripture: Matthew 6:25

Do you have half a dozen tickets for the first Friday performance?  Do you need four tickets for the second Saturday afternoon?  If you’ve been in pageant before, you’ve figured out that the great clearing house for tickets is the dry erase board in the choir room.  There, people will post their needs, their haves, leave tickets, and so forth.  But how do the tickets get out in the first place?  Have you ever wondered that?  In the early days, we just announced the dates and opened the doors.  That’s probably how it was back when Trudy Buehler came to First Baptist in 1983, although the records from that early day are rather sketchy—or maybe I just didn’t bother to look it up!

Today, however, Trudy has the pleasure of distributing all of the non-patron tickets.  Although Trudy works at the church, this is not a part of her job there.  She does this chore with her daughter Paula with her volunteer hat squarely on her head.

We’ll perform ten times this year.  Our worship center, adapted for pageant, provides a little over 2,000 decent seats.  So Trudy sends out about 20,000 tickets, right?  Wrong!  She sends out some 45,000 of these little invitations to grace.  So what does Trudy know about more than half of these tickets that she mails out?  That’s right, they’ll go unused, wasted.

What Trudy must try to remind herself, as she’s counting out colored tickets and addressing envelopes is something that we must remember as well.  Not everyone we invite to pageant will accept a ticket.  Not everyone who accepts a ticket will attend.  Not everyone who attends will be receptive to the gospel.  But some of them will be.  Which ones?  I have no idea, but, as Gene likes to say, “I’m not on that committee.”  Rather than worrying about numbers, we just need to trust God to draw people to himself, hopefully allowing us to be involved along the way.

Pray for all the altos in the choir.

November 7—1984

Scripture: Psalm 104:1-3

One of the greatest images that I’ve ever seen in my life came during a piano prelude in one of our services.  At the Steinway sat Joe DeShon, a guy who we more often see whacking the tympani and various other percussion instruments.  (I’m not sure when Joe  got involved in pageant, but I’ll pretend it was 1984.)  Joe is a highly accomplished pianist, but, aside from Piano Praise, he rarely gets to share that talent with us.  This Sunday, however, he was immersed in some marvelous piece, filling the worship center with sound.  I listened for a moment, but then I noticed the part of the image that really caught me.  A few feet behind Joe, I saw his son Andrew.  Andrew, about four at the time, sat draped over one of the big speakers on stage.  His eyes were absolutely fixed on his father at the piano.  The body language and the facial expression were unmistakable.  They combined to say, “This man at the piano is the absolute greatest person on earth, and he’s my dad!”

As a father, I can confirm that there’s not much that’s more fun than having a son who thinks you’re cool.  Thomas, I’m afraid, has pretty well figured out that I’m not all that cool, but Andrew DeShon has not decided that about his dad.  Probably it’s because Joe’s cooler than I am.

Moving closer to the busiest time of the pageant season, we might be tempted to see ourselves, fulfilling our particular part of the production, as akin to Joe.  We play our music, sing our words, recite our lines, aim our lights, watch our kids, or whatever else, and we’re the artists, the crew, the creators of a great event.  In that great rush of activity, though, we need to remember that we should have some Andrew in us.  You see, we are not the true artists or creators, and we should, like an enchanted four-year-old, spend some time gazing adoringly at He who is the true artist and the great creator.  Let us never grow out of that attitude of worship.

Pray for all the tenors in the choir.

November 8—1985

Scripture: Philippians 1:9-11

 “You don’t participate in pageant,” Lori Reed will tell you.  “You experience it.”

But then Lori’s full of speeches and slogans of that sort.  She’s survived in elementary school classrooms for too long to be lacking good, quick answers.  A pageant participant since 1985, Lori brings a formidable array of talents.  Do you want a solid choral singer?  She’s your girl.  How about a strong sight-reader who can bolster any ensemble?  She’s got that too.  Need a solo sung?  Lori can do it.  How about somebody to play the piano?  Lori’s perfectly capable of that.  If Gene can’t direct rehearsal, can Lori do it?  Sure.  And she can offer great catch-phrases and slogans to boot!

You might think that for Lori, pageant is all about the music.  But you can’t talk to her very long before realizing the music for her is simply a means to the end.  Just like her music teaching or choir leading, pageant is a way to make connections, to create relationships.  Perhaps that’s why she says you don’t participate; you experience.

Why do you do pageant?  I asked her.  She didn’t hesitate a bit.  “Terri Curp sums it up,” she told me.  As many of you know, Terri began to participate in—or experience—pageant after being saved through a performance.  For several years, Lori invited Terri.  Finally Terri accepted and God did the rest.

When I think of Lori saying, “You don’t participate in pageant,” I imagine her talking to a room full of school kids.  So many of them think of school as something to be gotten through, rather like a television show.  It doesn’t change you and you don’t change it.  But that doesn’t describe pageant or Christian life.

We are called to experience Christian life, connecting, supporting, loving, and encouraging others.  That’s why Lori’s here.  The music is just a bonus.

Pray for all the basses in the choir.

November 9—1986

Scripture: Psalm 150

Dick Drace arrived on the pageant scene in 1986, the year when we first added the live orchestra to the production.  If you don’t know Dick, you’ll find him in the orchestra brass section most any Sunday.  He’ll be the guy with the trombone that doesn’t slide.  While the other trombones are bumping their slides into people, Dick plays his instrument with valves.  It’s a “valve trombone.”

Dick’s primary instrument is the baritone horn.  When you hear him play a prelude, you can’t imagine such mellow and gorgeous tones coming out of that tangle of brass tubing.  Because there isn’t much call for a baritone in most of our orchestra music, Dick contributes where he can by playing this hybrid trombone.  The valves, as I understand it, work much the same on his trombone as they do on the baritone.

If you’re an on-stage type, you probably wonder about those orchestra people.  There they are stuck in the pit, literally penned in, throughout the entire performance.  Cramped together and dressed uncomfortably, all they get to do is play notes and count rests.  What kind of fun is that?

Francis of Assisi urged his followers to “Sing praise to God.  Use words if you must.”  While he probably meant that we should all try to live lives that “sing praise to God,” instrumentalists have picked up these words for themselves.

I asked Dick why he participates in pageant.  His answer didn’t surprise me.  “My instrument is a voice,” he told me.  There’s wisdom there.  All of us, whether we sing or act or point lights or control sound or distribute tickets or park cars or anything else have a voice in the pageant.  That voice can be lifted to our own glory or it can be lifted to the glory of God.

Sing your praise to the Lord.  Use words if you must.

Pray for all the brass players in the orchestra.

November 10—1987

Scripture: Isaiah 61:10

She’s the queen of safety pins and the leader of the headpiece police.  If you’ve been around pageant for very long, you’ve undoubtedly encountered Vicki Crisafulli.  Often, she’s to be seen frantically trying to repair or adjust a costume before a character needs to hit the stage again.

Vicki and Paul came to the church in 1987.  Shortly after their arrival, somebody involved in pageant—probably Wilma Calhoun—spotted their son Daniel and asked if he could be two-year-old Jesus for a couple of performances.  Vicki didn’t know what this pageant stuff was all about, having never actually attended a performance, but she agreed.  Shortly after that, Cinda Rosenbaum asked her if she might help with costumes.  “I guess so,” Vicki replied.  The rest is history.

You might think of costuming as one of the less glamorous parts of our pageant crew.  They never get on stage.  During performances, they’re thoroughly buried backstage, usually with safety pins in their mouths, watching out for eyeglasses and repairing pulled hems.  Some people have suggested to Vicki that she ought to give this thing up, as if the pageant were passing her by.  Ask her about it and she’ll smile.

“This is just so right.  It needs to be done and I have the ability to do it.  I can’t imagine giving it up,” she told me when I spoke with her.  And isn’t that the way that doing what God has called us to do should be.  Those who find their niche in pageant or elsewhere never sing, “I’ve Never Felt So All Alone,” because they never feel alone.  They feel the thrill and reward of doing God’s will and watching the results.

Vicki can testify that God has a way of getting us into the responsibilities that he wants for us.  Our job is simply to keep doing our part, stitching things together.  If we’ll do that, the great designer will see to it that the garment we sew is a worthy one for the king.

Pray for all of the members of the costume team

November 11—1988

Scripture: Psalm 40:1-3

Rebellious.  Is that a word that you’d apply to our beloved Lynn Lewallen?  I might consider her mischievous, but hardly rebellious.  Watch her during the music portion of a worship service, as she sings whatever songs she’s playing.  Does that face look rebellious?

However, if you hear Lynn tell about it, rebellious is just what she was in the years before 1988, before she first came to the pageant as a spectator.  Ask her about it and she’ll tell you how she arrived late and was seated in the chapel at the old building.  Clarence Stanley escorted her to an empty seat.  In the two hours that followed, the gospel message did its work.  God called Lynn to task for her rebellion.  And when she left the building that evening, she thought, “That was great.  I’d love to be a part of that.”

In the year that followed, the role of music assistant and accompanist became available at the church.  This is the role that Lynn fills so marvelously now that we can’t imagine anybody else doing it.  This is the role that she’s expanded into a terrific ministry.  Piano Praise?  That was her idea.  Camp Applause?  Same thing.  Musical mission trips to Bosnia and Harlem hardly seem the work of a music assistant, but Lynn has spread the gospel through these means as well.  How did she get to this place?

“There’s no way I could have gotten this job if God hadn’t gotten hold of me in 1988,” Lynn explains.  She could play the piano fine, but her spiritual life was suffering.

What if we hadn’t done a good pageant in 1988?  What if we’d allowed our egos and petty squabbles to overshadow the gospel?  I know one life that would be different today.  And that life has touched countless others.   Friends, we can’t afford to be less than our best.

Pray for Lynn Lewallen and all others who play keyboards for us.

November 12—1989

Scripture: 1 Corinthians 3:11-15

On the day we moved into the new building, I learned that Jeff Elliot had been badly burned in a house fire.  “Careless smoking,” the Overland Park Fire Department had concluded.  Jeff doesn’t smoke.  That was in 1999.  On that “Opening Sunday,” all of us who knew him prayed that Jeff would someday get to walk into this new building.  On that morning, however, nobody could be quite certain that he would survive.  Today, while he is well recovered from the fire, he carries the scars on his body.

Jeff first participated in pageant in 1989.  To the best of my knowledge, he’s never had a big part, a solo, or anything “important.”  He’s not a big-shot in the church.  He doesn’t have a Bible Study class with two hundred people on the roll.  His contributions don’t make or break the budget.  So it might surprise you that I’d call Jeff the most important person in the pageant.

On that morning in 1999, as we celebrated the opening of the new building, our hearts and minds were divided thinking of Jeff, lying in a hospital, hanging between life and death.  Still, we knew that, if he did leave us, we’d be together with Jeff in eternity.  And on these evenings in 2004, as we celebrate twenty-five years of pageants, we cannot forget the thousands of souls around us who hang between life and death.  We can’t ignore the fact that they stand in peril of an eternity in hell.

Each and every one of us has been burned by sin.  Each of us carries the scars of those sins around with us.  But for the patience and the grace of God, we’d have been destroyed at our own hand many years ago.  Each one who walks into our doors is the most important one there, the one for whom Christ died.  If we forget that, we’re playing with fire.

Pray for the string players in the orchestra.

November 13—1990

Scripture: 1 Corinthians 4:1-2

 “Freeze!”  That’s the word that Steve White heard Judy Hastings say to him one day in 1990 in the old building’s hallway.  As is often the case, Judy had something in mind for Steve to do in pageant.  He froze, and she made him into a Pharisee.  He’s done many things over the years.  He’s been Pilate, a sea captain, and a truly obnoxious member of the mob at the trial.  One year he played a tortured steward in the household of Herod.  Another, he played Joseph and sang to the two-year-old Jesus.

When I talked with Steve about his pageant experiences, however, the one that stood out the most strongly was the first year that he had a solo.  “Back then, the last thing I’d think of doing was singing by myself.  I was fine in a choir or a small group, but I couldn’t see myself as a soloist.”

As the rehearsals moved ahead, Steve grew more and more worried.  Was he hitting the right notes?  Was his tone good?  Was he rushing?  Did his hair look okay?  (Sorry, Steve.  I couldn’t resist that.)  As the dress rehearsal week began, Steve’s anxiety mounted.  He noticed a sour look on Gene’s face and assumed that what really meant indigestion indicated displeasure with his singing.  He just knew that when the lights were on and the audience sat in the auditorium, he’d freeze up or start singing out of key or otherwise embarrass himself and ruin the production.

“I was ready to go in and tell them that they had the wrong guy, that I just couldn’t do this thing,” Steve relates.   But then it hit him.  The people who cast him believed in him.  They knew he could do it.  If they said, “freeze,” then he just needed to trust them enough to freeze.  We can all learn a bit from Steve.  While our leaders aren’t quite as trustworthy as Jesus, they’re the best we have.  Let’s put our trust in them.

Pray for Jeff Drake, who is playing David.  The pit choir.

November 14—1991

Scripture: Philippians 1:27-28

You may think of Kirk Lewis as a guy with a strong tenor voice, the kind who can hit high notes that pierce through all the accompanying music and demand that you listen.  Or you may think of him as that guy who ran off to Arkansas and abandoned us.  What you might not know as well is that Kirk spent more than ten years as an essential behind-the-scenes cog in the wheel of our production.

When the Lewis family arrived in Kansas City in 1991, Kirk had already done a pageant-scale production that year at Easter.  Still, having found a new church home in Raytown, he leaped right into the mix and auditioned for a part.  Over the years, he played a variety of parts, singing his most memorable ones.

Somewhere in the audition process, I guess, Kirk let it slip that he’d done some technical theater work.  You know, we can find singers and actors all over the place.  Even instrumentalists aren’t terribly scarce, but the people who can build a stage and transform our worship center into whatever it’s supposed to look like for pageant?  Those people are tough to find.

Another job that Kirk has done across many years is the makeup job of putting the stripes onto Jesus’ back.  The wounds have to look realistic, but perhaps just as important, they have to be durable.  There’s no time for Jesus to stop for a makeup break between his trial and the crucifixion.  That’s why Kirk could always be found in some out-of-the-way spot, gluing the torn flesh onto whoever would be playing the savior that night.

Although Kirk certainly enjoys being in the spotlight as much as the next actor or singer, he understands that opening line from Rick Warren’s book:  “It’s not about you.”  He understands that, wherever God places him, his job is to reflect all the glory thrown his way onto the person of Jesus Christ.  It’s a shame he has to do it in Arkansas though.

Pray for the safety and good work of the set construction team

November 15—1992

Scripture: Psalm 51:12

I heard Karen Cable’s life change in 1988.  In the wee hours of a fall morning, lying in bed in my home in Independence, I heard the powerful blast that killed Karen’s husband, Michael Oldham, and five other Kansas City firefighters.  That explosion, and the second one, a few minutes later, although a good ten miles from my home, echoed loud enough to wake me and many others up.  The repercussions were much greater for Karen and her two children.

I’d known Karen for a couple of years before I realized her connection to the firefighter tragedy.  My daughter, Alyson, and her daughter, Jacqueline became fast friends, often spending the night at each other’s houses.  One day, I drove out to the Cable estate to pick up Alyson, and Karen offered me a tour of the house.  One thing that I noticed was some battered firefighter’s gear and photos near the kids’ rooms.

I questioned Alyson about this stuff as we drove back to town.  “Yeah, her dad was killed in some big explosion,” Alyson explained.  Quickly, I pieced together the facts.

It was a few years after the loss of Mike that Karen came to our pageant in 1992.  She’s worked backstage and she’s sung in the choir.  But whenever I think of her, I’ll note one thing most of all.  Wherever she is, she’s usually smiling.  If it’s raining, she’s smiling.  If things are going badly, she’s smiling.  If her kids are dealing her fits, Karen smiles!  What is wrong with her?

What I admire most about Karen is something that I don’t often possess:  the ability to be positive—joyful, even—in the face of less-than-perfect circumstances.  That joy, that fruit of the spirit, is something that each of us should radiate as we present the gospel, whether in pageant or in life.

Pray for all the woodwind players in the orchestra.

November 16—1993

Scripture: Revelation 2:4-5

What happened in 1993?  Who had their first year that year?  I haven’t a clue.  I asked scores of people when they began, but nobody could pinpoint 1993 as their first year.  Now the people who have done pageant since the very first year could tell you.  There were at least a dozen 1979s I could have written about.  And the people who started last year or the year before have no trouble.   Many of us can peg our involvement to some landmark of time.  For instance, one person said, “My first year was the first year in the new church building.”  That made it easy.  Others will remember that in their first year, their child played baby Jesus.  “Now she’s nineteen, so it must have been 1985.”

But what do you do when you’ve lost count of your years?  I find, as I get older, that I can’t remember how old I am.  This year—I’ll be forty-two in December —I’ve had to resort to actually doing the math.  “Let’s see, I was born in 1962 and this is 2004, so . . .”  Similarly, I can’t immediately recall how many years I’ve been married, the ages of my kids, how long I’ve worked at JCCC, how long I’ve attended First Baptist, or many other spans of time.

I mention this today not just because I’m covering for my lack of a 1993 person.  No, I think it’s important that we recognize when things become so routine that we lose track of time.  “Oh, it’s November, so it must be time for pageant,” is a response that probably describes many of us.  Like the church at Ephesus, some of us run the risk of forgetting our first love.

In dealing with the most important story that our audiences will ever hear, we can’t afford to see it as routine.  We must recognize the wonder of the gospel today and throughout our involvement in this season.

Pray for the percussionists in the orchestra.

November 17—1994

Scripture: Philippians 1:3-6

Look all over the stage for Brenda Cook and you won’t find her.  A solid musician, Brenda usually does her singing from the pit choir.  If you’re looking for alto notes some evening, it’ll be her voice coming over the sound system that guides you safely home.

Brenda remembers her first year of pageant well, because it coincided with her son Nathan’s illness.  Nathan, who’s a middle-school kid now, suffered from a mysterious, lingering, and quite threatening affliction back in those days.  Suffice it to say that when she first took part in pageant, her mind wasn’t completely on the game.

What gets you through a time like that, worrying about the illness of a cherished child?  Brenda credits the church’s many prayer warriors both with helping her maintain her sanity and with assisting with Nathan’s recovery.

When you think about it, our prayers serve much the same purpose as the pit choir does.  They provide support, confidence, and guidance.  We could do a pageant without a pit choir, but it wouldn’t be same.  The onstage choir wouldn’t muster quite the same confidence and the overall sound would suffer.  We could do pageant without prayer as well, but doing so we’d be like a rudderless ship on the sea.

My friends, you may well prepare for this experience by learning music, words, cues, and all manner of other things.  You might get makeup and costuming perfect.  But if you do that and you do not cover yourself with prayer, then you’re operating under your own power.  If you haven’t already started, I challenge each of you to pray for our pageant, your contribution to it, those around you, and the unsaved people who will be in our seats in a little over two weeks.  Listen for Brenda’s voice in the monitors.  She’ll lead you the right way. 

Pray for Carolyn Ray who is playing Beth

November 18—1995

Scripture: Philippians 1:9-11

When I first met Andy Stevens, who started helping with pageant around 1995, he was wearing a ridiculous pair of blue jeans.  Emily befriended Andy shortly after we came to First Baptist in 1997.  Over the years they were friends, best friends, engaged to be married, unengaged to be married, and, today, friends.

When I first saw Andy and his ridiculous jeans, Emily wanted a pair just like them.  “Andy can make them for me.  He’ll do it for free if I’ll provide the three pairs of jeans he uses.”  Emily never got those jeans, but I started to see something rather intriguing in this young man.

A couple of years later, Emily and Andy talked me into taking the two of them to the Cornerstone Music Festival, where we camped for four days.  It was me, the two of them, two other high school boys, and Alyson.  I nearly lost my mind.  But again, I saw something in Andy I hadn’t expected.  I trusted him with my daughter.  I knew he’d watch out for her, protect, and care for her.  Yes, he had ridiculous jeans, but Andy was becoming a good Christian man.

I could go on telling you about watching Andy transition from a strange boy to a unique man.  I could tell you about him clambering around on the roof of my barn or spending time with my younger kids.  A couple of weeks ago, I got to watch Andy get married.  He’s done away with the ridiculous jeans, but Andy’s still a unique dresser.

While Andy’s a bit of a character, I have no doubt that he has character.  His family, his church, and the Holy Spirit have instilled in him values that quirky clothing and hair coloring cannot hide.

While we think of pageant as primarily an evangelistic tool, let’s not forget that it serves to raise up strong disciples, not the least of which are our kids.  Even the ones in ridiculous jeans.

Pray for Trudy Buehler, Bev Schultz, and everyone that helps with tickets.

November 19—1996

Scripture:

It was 1996 when the Dalton gang joined the pageant family.  Since then, Amy Dalton has been an angel.  Stacey, their grown daughter, has donned wings over the years as well.  Aaron, their college-age son has filled a number of roles, including hanging as a thief on the cross, while Doug played Jesus for many years and on several continents.  Rumor has it that he’s giving the role up after this year.  How did it happen that this family came to participate so thoroughly.  Are they just that sort of people?  Are they joiners?  Did they scour the city, looking for the church with the best music and drama ministry?  None of the above.  Let me tell you the story as Amy relayed it to me.

It was in 1995 that it happened.  “A lady I worked with asked me on a Friday afternoon if I would like to have four tickets for that night’s performance.”  They decided to use the tickets and showed up at the door fifteen minutes before show time.  Now if you’re thinking about the slim pickings in our auditorium today, remember that the old worship center held only about forty percent as many people.  They couldn’t find four seats together anywhere, so they determined to return another night.  As they were about to leave, an usher caught them and pointed out four seats on the front row.  How could they pass that up?  On the way home, they all agreed:  “We want to be a part of this next year.”

The next year, Doug was a priest.  A year later, he was Jesus.  “This pageant has truly changed our lives!” Amy told me.

So what changed their lives?  A woman at work, at the last minute, offered tickets.  God took care of the rest.  Who was that anonymous woman?  I don’t know, but I thank her for this simple effort.

Pray for Doug Dalton and Gary Hardin who are playing Jesus.

November 20--1997

Scripture: Philippians 2:12-13

God is good.  At the end of 1996, God led my family to First Baptist Church of Raytown after years of languishing in a church that preached “another gospel.”  Then, in 1997 I was permitted to participate in the final pageant at the old building, playing Judas.

In the summer of 1998, God allowed me to travel to Israel and play John the Baptist in four pageant performances there.  That year, I got to share the stage and two weeks of travel with my two older daughters.

With the opening of the new building in 1999, we saw a new era.  I played Caiaphas and experienced a transcendent time with my two younger kids.  The next year, I was tapped to play a much bigger, meatier role, a prisoner who was converted in the final scene.  That same year, I was blessed beyond my expectations as I began creating these devotional books.  In 2000 in Venezuela and 2001 in Raytown, they let me sing, “I Gotta Tell Somebody,” while in 2002 they permitted me to be a nice guy and to utter the rousing final lines of the play.  It was back to my nastier roots in 2003 as I played Caiaphas once again and had the questionable honor of jeering at Jesus as he hung on the cross. 

In my brief association with pageant, I’ve been blessed beyond anything I could hope.  What modest talents God gave me, he has allowed me to use to his glory.  He’s allowed me to befriend scores of loving and talented people.  He’s let me take a few moments in a spotlight.  He’s allowed me to share the gospel in a moving way.  God is good.

My friends, pageant is a privilege, just as surely as Christian witnessing and Christian life  are privileges.  May we never forget just how privileged we are.

Pray for Donna Baiotto and the prop team.

November 21--1998—No Pageant

Scripture: Revelation 4:10

What if there were no pageant?  In 1998, we discovered the answer to that question.  We were scheduled to move into the new building during the fall of 1998, the busiest time for pageant preparation.  We didn’t have the money to buy the staging.  How could we do a production like that?

In the end, of course, we didn’t move until spring of 1999, so we could have done one more year in the old building.  Still, that year off gave us a vision of what it would be like if there were no pageant.

The Christmas shopping got done earlier.  The week after Thanksgiving didn’t look like a complete blackout due to endless rehearsals.  My feet didn’t crack from walking around the church barefoot night after night, and my face didn’t ache from scrubbing off all that makeup.  There truly were some benefits to be had by skipping a year of pageant.

But, you might ask, what of the lost?  With hundreds of people responding to our performances, shouldn’t we  feel ashamed for taking that year off?  I tend to believe that God doesn’t tear pages from the Lamb’s Book of Life just because you or I miss a witnessing opportunity.  Those who were to be saved in 1998 got saved.

But if that’s the case, then why bother at all?  Why do an invitation?  Why work so hard to invite the lost?  To answer these questions, I’d return to the idea of privilege once again.  Yes, God’s elect will be saved, but we don’t have to have a hand in it.  God blesses us as individuals and as a church with the opportunity to act as agents of his grace.  You can’t just turn down a blessing like that.  That’s why we can’t take a night—much less a whole year—off.

Pray for Bruce Rosenbaum and the sound crew

November 22—1999—Dave Foster

Scripture: Philippians 2:14-16

You might have thought him a newcomer to pageant last year, but Dave Foster has been with us since 1999, the first year in the new building.  Perhaps before he blinded you with his brilliance.  You see, for four years, Dave made his mark on pageant from behind a spotlight.  You know that light trained at precisely the right time on precisely the spot where you were supposed to be standing?  That may well have been Dave.

I got to know Dave better when his old job as a sales rep for a sporting goods maker went south and he took a position in the mailroom at my school.  Now the postal operation at JCCC is a sizeable thing.  Fliers and notices flurry between offices.  Lots of packages and mailings flow into the campus, and we send mounds of stuff off campus.  Yes, that operation is sizeable, but the mailroom is the mailroom.  Dave’s a bright and talented guy, capable of a great deal more, and he knows it.  He feels confident that God has a calling for his life, and it isn’t pushing around a cart collecting the mail all afternoon.

I guess what has really impressed me most about Dave in these last couple of years is that although he’s been stuck in a job he doesn’t love, he’s making the best of it.  He’s always cheerful, always quick with a joke.  He invites more people to pageant every year than I do, and he provides a witness for Jesus Christ on the JCCC campus.  I don’t think that I could have maintained Dave’s level of joy if it were me pushing that cart.

Whatever you do for pageant this year, whether it’s what you’d prefer or what someone else roped you into, remember Dave’s attitude and do it as if doing for Christ.  Bonus:  After I wrote this, Dave informed me that he’s accepted the job as Wellness Director at the ROC.  God is good!

Pray for Gary Crutcher and all the members of the lighting team.

November 23—2000

Scripture: Acts 10:19-21

During one of the first big blocking rehearsals for last year’s pageant, Judy pointed to a spot right at the center front of the passarell and said, “I need Mark, Olivia, and Thomas Browning here.”  Given my duties as Caiaphas and my innate laziness, I had decided to take the year off from singing that year.  As a result, I hadn’t learned any of the songs.

You can’t very well sing a song at the very closest point to the audience without knowing it, so I scrambled to learn some words beyond “Watermelon, Watermelon” to the song “Welcome, Jesus, Our Redeemer.”

Coincidentally, the year 2000 marked both our first use of the passarell and the copyright date of this song, which we’re singing again this year.  Expanding our stage in this manner did more than just providing a way to corral the orchestra members.  It provided a means for us to get out closer to the audience.

Often, some of the most dramatic moments in the production take place on that walkway.  Two years ago, when Dan Hurst played Marcus the Centurion, he not only got to hear his old friend Flavius witness to him on the passarell but he actually met Jesus there.  Last year, when the ladies sang “Mercy Saw Me,” that’s where they stood.  When the “Fish and Loaves Kid” and the Blind Man tell about the miracles they’ve witnessed this year, where will they do it?  You know where.

That passarell can actually be seen as a symbol of what our pageant is all about.  Jesus Christ the man lived two thousand years ago, on another continent, and in a completely different culture.  He’s a very foreign character to the average unredeemed sinner.  So what hope is there for the sinner?  It’s the hope that rescued you and me.  That hope is that somebody will walk out on the passarell of life and bring Jesus close to us.  Like the blind man, we’ve “gotta tell somebody.” And to do that, we have to get close enough to communicate.

Pray for yourself and all others who are even now inviting people to pageant.

November 24—2001

Scripture:  Psalm 24:3-4

One of my favorite lines from our play Uncle Phil’s Diner came as P.J. the D.J., asked Tony Gulbrandsen, appearing as Tony Petrelli, if he’d remembered to wash his hands before he came to work from the garage.

“Sure, P.J.,” Tony replied, holding his filthy hands up for a nice laugh.  That image of Tony and his dirty hands from that play has stuck with me long after the echoes of “Great Balls of Fire” have faded away.

When I read Psalm 24, verses 3 and 4 speak to me with power:  “Who shall ascend into the hill of the LORD? Or who shall stand in his holy place?  He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart.”

Why do I find this passage so powerful?  There are a couple of reasons.  The first reason gets to the heart of why we go to the trouble of putting on this pageant.  “Who shall stand in his holy place?”  The quick answer to that is that, except for the grace of God, nobody would stand in God’s holy place.  The Jews understood that despite their efforts toward cleanness, they all sinned.  That reality lay at the heart of the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur.  For Christians, the source of clean hands and a pure heart can be traced not to the sacrifice of animals but to the gift of Jesus on the cross.  That is why we tell this story each year.

The second reason for remembering these verses, however, is more pointed.  The Bible is very clear about the universality of sin.  You probably know the verses as well as I do:  All have sinned.  No one is righteous, no not one.  Our righteousness is like dirty rags.  Many of us bring dirty hands each time that we come to a rehearsal.  Like Tony Petrelli, we have forgotten to wash up.  Amazingly, God uses sinners to bring about his work of grace and salvation.

Tony, who started in pageant in 2001, has left us, after too short a time.  He’s pastoring in Wisconsin.  I pray that he’s keeping his hands clean there.  I would urge each participant in this production to look inside.  Are your hands clean?  Is your heart pure?  Do not bring unconfessed sin to another rehearsal or performance.

Pray that God will expose and excise the sins that mar your life.

November 25—Thanksgiving

Scripture: Psalm 106:1-2

In the past twelve months, I haven’t won any major literary prizes.  It wasn’t me who won a jillion dollars on Jeopardy.  My textbook deal with Prentice-Hall went south, and I didn’t find a paper bag with $187,000 in it.  Woe is me!

As some of you know, I took a full-year sabbatical from JCCC last year, which meant that I found myself at half pay until the end of August this year.  I believe that it’s a truth of the human condition that no matter how much you earn, any decrease in that earning hurts.  Something in my mind told me that half-pay wouldn’t be so bad.  That something was wrong.

On the other hand, I never did without.  Out of the blue, Midwestern Seminary asked me to teach writing classes for them, which helped to pay for Christmas and insurance.  Alyson received good financial aid offers for her first year of college.  A couple of times, I received money in the mail that I hadn’t expected.  God provides.

Even though I didn’t get to take the trip to England that I had hoped for, I have no complaints about that year.  I got to spend more time with my fabulous wife.  I got to share experiences with my children.  I got to help out my married daughter and her husband in a difficult time, and I got to see them become parents of a beautiful girl.

Over the last year, I’ve seen kids in my Sunday School class get saved, and signed up a dozen new boys for Cub Scouts.  God has allowed me to use my gifts in many ways, even though I’m just a crummy sinner.

That’s the bottom line you know.  As much as I can grouse about the Royals losing or taxes or potholes or whatever, God is good to me, giving me a multitude of reasons for thanksgiving.  So on this day, let’s all take a breather and give thanks.

Pray a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord, for he is good!

November 26—2002

Scripture: Luke 4:18-19

I have this saying about the choir.  Individually, our choir is made up of a bunch of intelligent and capable people, but collectively, we’re a big, dumb animal.  If you think I’m being cruel, just watch a rehearsal some night.  Judy will look at the mass of choir members on stage and say, “I need all of you who are on the steps to move to your right.”

And what do the people on the steps do?  They stare back at Judy, and they might as well be chewing their cud.  We’re a big, dumb animal.

Dominic Clemence, however, doesn’t contribute to the big, dumb animal mentality.  Having started in 2002, Dominic definitely “gets it.”  He understands what he’s doing on that stage at every moment of every scene.  He understands who the other people around him are and how he’s reacting to them.  This isn’t some guy in a robe singing and waving his arms around now and again.  No, Dominic is an actor, who sees himself as bringing to life the person of Jesus Christ.

When I asked him about why he does pageant, Dominic didn’t hesitate.  “I have the gifts of prophecy and evangelism,” he explained.  At first I found that a bit strange.  After all, sometimes we think of prophecy more in the Nostradamus mode than anything else.  But that wasn’t his point.  Perhaps sensing my uncertainty, he added a simple phrase:  “We proclaim.”

That’s what pageant is, at its heart.  A group of reasonably intelligent and capable people get together to proclaim the Lordship of Jesus Christ to a lost and needy world.  That’s not work for a big, dumb animal, but God uses us anyway.

Pray for all the people, singing or not, who will grace the stage.

November 27—2003

Scripture: Ephesians 1:5

Shortly after I met Gina Crain, one of our young Jewish Dancers, who did her first pageant in 2003, I ran into Howard Crain.  “I just saw your granddaughter downstairs,” I said to him.

“She’s my daughter,” he explained.  My confusion was understandable.  There’s a big generational divide between Howard and Gina, and a large racial one as well.  Clearly, Gina was adopted by the Crains.

What would possess a couple in their sixties to adopt an infant?  She hadn’t done anything to win their affection.  She wasn’t tied to them by blood.  What brought about this daring move?  I don’t know for sure, but I bet there were people who knew the Crains back then and said, “What are they thinking about, adopting a child at their age?”  But I rather think that for them, it was a simple choice to make.

“For God so loved the world,” Jesus begins.  What had the world done for God?  Nothing good.  They’d just rebelled against him at every opportunity.  Why would God not just forego punishing our rebellion but actually adopt us into his family, making us joint-heirs with Jesus of the riches of his kingdom?

Tomorrow, we begin our heavy duty rehearsals.  Tomorrow, I want you look at Gina and see yourself in her.  I want you to realize that while you were still a sinner, God in his amazing grace reached down and loved you, inviting you into his family.  God adopted you, not because of anything good you’d done, and not because it “made sense” for him.  He adopted you because he so loved you.

If you have any doubt over the next two weeks as to why you’re doing pageant, look at Gina.  She’s you.

Pray for the Jewish dancers.

November 28—Beginning of Performance Week

Scripture: Philippians 4:4-7

I write these words on a Tuesday in October, but I have last Wednesday on my mind.  On that night, Gene let us go about twenty minutes early.  This wasn’t a move of kindness, designed to make up for all those times he’s run over by five minutes.  No, this was a concession to the realization that nothing was being accomplished on this night.

If you were there, then you remember.  We were trying to record “All Rise.”  The radio transmitter was putting a dreadful hiss into the monitors.  The click track clicked too loud.  They couldn’t find the guide vocals, and then they could, and then they couldn’t.  We couldn’t hear the piano.  And some soprano was singing too loud!

After eight years of singing under Gene’s leadership, I think I can read his moods pretty well.  My guess is that the stress meter was topping out for him on that evening.  While the technical glitches certainly lay at the center of that frustration, I realize now that they weren’t the whole story.  You see, Gene knew that even when we got the equipment working properly, we in the choir would muddle things up.  Somebody’d sing through a rest.  We’d all sing our S’s at different points and make a hissing sound.  We’d rustle our pages when we turned them.

Recording, he likes to remind us, tends to be a permanent thing.  You want to get things right.  Thankfully, we don’t have to record anything this week.  Nevertheless, our work this week does have a permanence to it.  We’re not making artistic history this week, but we are making gospel history.  For several hundred people, this pageant will be a life-changing day.

As we bring our sacrifice of performance to the altar this week, let us not forget the permanence of the work ahead of us.  What can we offer the king of kings other than our best?

Pray for Steve Cowart and all of the various technical teams

November 29

Reading: The hymn text of “When I Survey”

There’s no song in this year’s pageant that sends more chills through me than the oldest one of the bunch.  Just think about these words:  “When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss and pour contempt on all my pride.”  Now, if you just sang those words to yourself or even if you recited them in your head according to the rhythm of the hymn, I want you to go back and read them over again.  Read them out loud.  Read them as if they were plain English sentences.  Think about them until the slightly archaic wordings seem more natural to you.  Once you’ve done that, go on through and read the rest of the words the same way.

The harmony and arrangement of “When I Survey” are fabulous, but it’s the words that do it for me.  These are words that, assuming we truly believe them, can explain a great deal about the endeavor in which we’re all engaged.  What in the world are you doing, going to church every day for a week, wearing yourself silly, and missing all the good TV shows this week?  Why would you give not just your time but your money and your energy to support something that’s really little more than an overgrown church service?  What’s wrong with you?

What’s the answer to that question?  Isaac Watts knew that answer three hundred years ago.  You see, when you truly look at the cross of Jesus and understand it for what it truly is, then all of your best accomplishments, all of your favorite possessions, all of your reasons for pride, “all the vain things that charm” you most fade into nothing.

When you’re tired, discouraged, sick, harried and hurried this week, remember these words.  But take your eye off the cross and you’ll be gone in no time.

Pray for the men playing apostles.

November 30

Scripture: 1 Corinthians 1:18

While I’m dealing with songs, let me share one that we’ll never sing in pageant.  It’s a cowboy song, popular with a certain style of small-time country singer, and widely distributed on one of Garth Brooks’ albums.  The song is about a lonesome cowboy, riding out on the range at night, who reads a letter from an old friend.

“Why do you ride for your money?  Why do you rope for short pay?  You ain’t getting nowhere, and you’re losing your share.  Boy, you must have gone crazy out there!” the friend in the letter writes.  The song goes on to relate the story of the cowboy’s old sweetheart, who has married well after getting over him.  She asks the same questions, which, conveniently enough, form the song’s chorus.

In the end—and in the bridge—the cowboy answers the letter’s question like this:  “But they’ve never seen the Northern Lights.  They’ve never seen a hawk on the wing.  They’ve never spent spring at the Great Divide, and they’ve never heard old camp cookie sing.”  That’s supposed to explain everything.  Yep, if we’d have all just done those things, then we’d all be wearing boots and rounding up dogies.  That song sounds great around a dwindling campfire, but in reality it’s pretty weak.

However, if we just change some of the details, that song could explain the crazy behavior of many active Christians.  If you’ve never felt God’s presence, if you’ve never sung with a couple of thousand believers, if you’ve never read Psalm 51—then the Christian life is foolishness.  “You must have gone crazy out there,” others will assume.

Over the next two weeks, it’s up to us to show the “city folks” who come to our “range” these wonderful fruits of the spirit.  It’s up to us to show that Christians aren’t crazy.  We’ve just seen the Northern Lights!

Pray for energy for everyone who’s starting to drag.

December 1

Scripture: Revelation 1:8

It was three years ago, during the week between pageant performances, that my father died.  Today would mark his eighty-seventh birthday, and this page, as the last two December  1 entries have, serves to commemorate his contribution to making me the man I am today.

When my dad died, he’d been in Liberty Hospital for nearly three weeks.  We all knew that this event was coming.  After drawing a few deep breaths, I tried to be productive.  What could be the right thing to do at a moment like that?  I determined to telephone their church and notify the pastor of the event.

Looking the church up in the phonebook was easy.  Dialing the phone was easy.  Listening to the secretary answer was easy.  Then I tried to speak.  And I utterly fell apart.  I’d say that I struggled to get the words out but that would be a lie.  I simply blubbered into the phone, completely incapable of uttering intelligible words.  I’ve never been so completely surprised by an emotional response in all my life.

On the other hand, I had just experienced an unprecedented event.  Since my birth, I’d always had dad there.  I always knew where I could reach him on the phone.  I always knew where he lived.  He’d always been there for support or advice or help.  And now?  I wasn’t really prepared for that.

When Moses asked for God’s name, he heard, “I Am.”  As simple as that sounds, I never really appreciated the name’s importance.  It’s not “I Was” or “I Will Be For A While” or “I Might Be.”  God’s name is “I Am.”

Each of us is temporary and limited, but God is unbounded by time and space.  I’ll never face a phone call moments after his departure.  That’s the news that gives me strength to face not only this week but life.

Pray for all the childcare workers who watch and teach our kids.

December 2—Final Dress Rehearsal

Scripture: Hosea 14:7

In 2004, many new people have joined our pageant family.  Coming home from the final Billy Graham service, I had the privilege of talking with one, Janine Braaten.  Given the opportunity, Janine poured out a great swath of her life.  Let me share a bit of what I learned.

Janine’s in love.  I don’t mean that she has some hunky guy sending her flowers.  I don’t know anything about her romantic attachments.  No, she’s in love with the Lord.  Janine came to First Baptist in the late spring of this year.  In late June she joined the choir.  “I’ve never felt the movement of God through a church like I do at First Baptist Raytown,” she said.  She loves the church.  She loves the choir.  She loves the Metro group on Tuesday nights.  By now, I’m sure she loves pageant.  Janine’s experiencing a spiritual high right now.  Even though her job at Petco isn’t all that she’s dreamed about, she’s having a great time, enjoying a season in love with Jesus.

What makes this time so sweet for her is the contrast with her past.  Having grown up in a nominally Christian home, Janine took some wrong turns in previous years.  She spent some time on the broad path, she told me.  Welcome to the club, Janine!

My friends, we are all Janine.  We are all sinners, deserving death but redeemed by the incredible grace of God and the amazing sacrifice of Jesus.  We have spent time on that broad path.  But we do not all have the sort of enthusiasm that Janine has.

As you come to our final tune-up tonight, my brothers and sisters, think about when you were Janine.  Think about the time when you would sit breathlessly, hopelessly in love with God.  If you’ve never known that time, then pray that God with bless you with it.  If we can recover the joy of our first love, people will see it in our performance tonight.

Pray for the ushers who will be guiding a small audience to their seats tonight

December 3—Opening Night

Scripture: Matthew 6:33

It’s three and a half hours before I’m supposed to be at the church to board a bus for the first night of the Billy Graham Crusade.  My “Crusade Choir” polo shirt is a blinding white, never worn in the five months I’ve owned it.  My Crusade music is out where I can’t walk off and forget it.  Weeks ago, I signed up to sing and to ride, so I should be expected.  Everything’s peachy except for one thing:  It’s raining!

The rain rolled in this morning and has lingered.  We’ve gone from pouring to sprinkling and listened to some loud thunder along the way.  All around the city today, Christians are looking at the sky.  We’re glancing from the grey clouds to our watches.  We’re trying to envision Arrowhead Stadium.  What will this do to attendance?  Will those people we invited still go if it’s raining?  Will the attendance of the Kansas City Crusade be an embarrassment to the church, the city, the legacy of Billy Graham.

By now, you know how the crusade turned out, but as I write these words, I haven’t a clue, and a big part of me keeps looking at the sky, worrying.  That’s not a terribly faith-filled action, is it?

Tonight, we perform The Presence for real.  How many people will be in our auditorium?  Will the story be well received?  I have no idea.  But I remind myself that in both the case of the Billy Graham Crusade and the pageant, God did not call us to worry about the weather or the attendance statistics.  God just called us to do what we can do, and he promised that he would do things that we cannot do.

My responsibility tonight is to do my assigned tasks to the best of my ability, to pray for the overall mission of the pageant, and to allow God to sort things out as he will.

Pray for this audience and the ones to come, that God may be glorified and souls saved.  For Brother Paul giving the invitation.

December 4—Performances

Scripture:  Psalm 127

 I remember a little over five years ago walking into our worship center and seeing the newly raised stage.  My profound comment was “Wow!”  Those of us who remember the old building, which, despite its charm, lacked a lot of the potential of the current space, might still glance and say, “Wow!”  And now we’re about to open a new “Wow!” right behind the worship center.

Buildings are great.  Stages are terrific, and the programs, plays, services, and classes that we house in and on those buildings and stages can be marvelous, but there is one ingredient that cannot be left out, one consulting architect that cannot be ignored.

“Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it.”  I’m reminded of a woman I used to know.  Having been born to a very ordinary family, she accompanied her husband as he became an incredibly successful and wealthy businessman in two separate, booming industries.  Within the space of twenty years, she had gone from a very normal income to a fortune that afforded her virtually anything she could imagine.  She bought a huge house and redecorated.  Then she built a fabulous place in Florida.  But when the building was done, it seemed that rather than one smallish empty house she had two enormous empty houses.  God had not built these houses.  She had built them.  All the money in the world couldn’t fill that need within her.  In the space of six months, she gained some eighty pounds, had a heart attack, and died.

Tonight we’ll be meeting together in that “Wow!” auditorium, hopefully with a “Wow!” production.  Our job in this house is to invite that audience to join us.  And as you do so, remember who the master architect is.

Pray for the nice people who feed us on these two-performance days

December 5—Performances

Scripture: Ephesians 4:1-2

I thoroughly enjoy theater.  This summer, Mary White roped me into helping with the Celebration Academy production of Charlotte’s Web, in which I got to play two parts: Mr. Arable, a farmer; and Uncle, a prize-winning and highly obnoxious pig.  I’d like to think of myself as a smarter version of John Arable.  You see, this fellow worked hard, loved his family, and walked gently upon the earth.  Whenever asked for something by his daughter, Fern, John tried to be tough, but simply melted.  He’s a great dad.

In reality, though, I’m probably a lot more like Uncle than John.  Uncle appears in only one scene, but it’s a memorable scene.  He struts into the barn where Wilbur, the star pig of the play, is sleeping.  There he quickly establishes himself as an egomaniac and a teller of terribly corny jokes.  In the end, Uncle wins the blue ribbon from the fair, while Wilbur is given a special gold medal to recognize his special qualities, all described in the writing within Charlotte’s web.

I’m like Uncle when I’m uncaring.  I’m like Uncle when I think of myself first.  I’m like Uncle when I tell corny jokes, too.  Although I have moments when I’m like John, in my heart I’m a big obnoxious pig in need of some special grace lest I wind up as pork chops and bacon.

Our man David, in The Presence, is like Uncle, and probably you are too, if you’ll just admit it.  The question is not if we’re pigs.  The question is if we are pigs who have been redeemed from the slaughter.

Many of the people for whom we’ll perform today have no clue that they’re really bacon-in-training.  If you think for a moment that today’s long hours won’t be worthwhile, just remember the many Uncles who will be sitting unaware in our seats this afternoon and evening.

Pray for Don Keith and the security team.

December 6

Scripture: Galatians 2:20

My wife overheard the mother of one of our young people recently, talking breathlessly about the upcoming pageant.  “I think people are going to be disappointed this year with the pageant,” this lady said.  “They’re changing everything.  It’s all going to be about the angels.  They’re not even doing anything about Jesus!”

Obviously, this lady was sadly misinformed.  The Presence, just like every pageant we’ve done over the years, has a framing story, this one focused on the strained marriage of David and Beth, but it has at its heart the story of Jesus.  Year after year, we weave that framing story into and around many of the same scenes:  the nativity, the teaching, the miracles, the triumphal entry, the crucifixion, and the resurrection of Jesus.  The drama of our pageant always comes at the intersection between the framing story and the gospel story.

Aren’t we just the same?  Isn’t each of us a little passion play of sorts, walking and talking through our day.  Each of us has a story.  We’ve been to different places and experienced different things.  We’ve suffered through all manner of things.  Some of us are richer; some poorer.  Some have been believers for many decades, while others are brand new in the faith.  But the thing that should—that must—unify us all is that our lives only have meaning as they intersect with the life and death of Jesus Christ.

As you look back on the week that you’ve just endured, whatever your role is, remember the opening word’s of The Purpose-Driven Life:  “It’s not about you.”  In reality, it is about you, but it’s only about you if you have entwined your life with that of the man we’re portraying onstage.

Tonight at home and in the performances to come, be sure to set aside your ego, your expectations, and your dreams.  Instead do your best to draw attention to the life of Jesus through the life Jesus has given you.

Pray for the health of all the members of our cast and crew.  The church custodial staff, constantly cleaning up.

December 7

Scripture:  Psalm 24

Five years ago, my daughter Alyson signed up to participate in pageant.  She was quite excited to be an angel.  But when she got her assignment, there was a horrifying word on it.  She was an alternate!  I tried to convince her that a devoted alternate would probably get plenty of work, but she, as a fourteen-year-old is wont to do, would have none of it.  She didn’t go to rehearsals, didn’t call anybody, and basically behaved badly.

What a difference a year can make.  From fourteen to fifteen, Alyson did a good bit of growing up.  She attended enough rehearsals of You Can’t Take It with You that she was put to work and eventually made the stage manager, a job that she fulfilled quite admirably.

I wondered how her non-performance last year would affect the next year, but when the pageant casting came out, not only was she given a second chance as an angel, but she was allowed to be a Jewish dancer in the triumphal entry.  In the years until she headed to SBU, she continued as an angel.

Sure I’m glad that my daughter was involved in this production, and I’m proud of her, but the bigger point is the point of second chances.  Gene and Larry, Judy and Pamela all know that people make mistakes.  If they were to blot out everyone who ever goofed, they’d be doing this pageant by themselves.  I commend them for this attitude, but I also know where they get it.

Forgiveness is a family trait for Christians.  We get it from our Father.  As we approach the end of our run of performances, I urge you to forgive all those who might have offended you.  And ask forgiveness if you have offended anybody.  Let’s head out of this experience with clean hands and a pure heart.

Pray for all the angels who grace our stage.

December 8

Scripture:  Psalm 122

One of the things that sticks in my mind from the trip to Israel I took a few years back is what I learned about the Psalms.  Turn in your Bible to Psalm 120 and then browse through to Psalm 134.  If you’re looking at a King James Bible, then you’ll probably see each of these Psalms referred to as a “Song of degrees.”  There’s another term for them that I prefer:  “Songs of Ascent.”  What is a Song of Ascent?  It is a hymn that the Jews sang as they were walking up the hill to the Temple Mount, preparing themselves as they went to meet their God.  Its seems that the Jews took their worship at the Temple very seriously.

The Temple Mount still excites great passions.  For the last four years, Israel has been fractured by violence between Palestinians and Jews, an outbreak triggered when  the current prime minister, Ariel Sharon, visited the site, which the Muslims also consider holy.

The Jews revere this corner of Jerusalem as the site of their two temples.  Muslims regard it to be the place where Muhammad was taken up into heaven, where he is purported to have received a revelation.  Both of them see the site as a place for meeting with God.

Christians typically don’t go in for holy sites in quite the same way as other religions.  For us, anyplace that we meet with God is a “temple.”  Our bodies are a temple, since the Holy Spirit dwells within us.  Despite this fact, it is fitting for us to turn our eyes toward our Lord and approach him, perhaps using these fifteen Psalms to lead us.  Let me suggest that Friday night we will all be worshipping together and God will be in the house with us.  Let us prepare ourselves with each step we take.  “I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the LORD.”

Pray for the parking team

December 9

Scripture: Hebrews 12:1

Last year in this booklet, I spent a week telling you about the contractor who was remodeling our basement for us.  You see, back in August, when I wrote those devotions, the work that Dave was doing still had novelty.  But in December , when I finally told him that, whether he realized it or not, he was done, all that charm had worn off.

It’s funny how fast the “new” wears off of things.  I bought a new car back in July.  For the first couple of months that I owned it, I inspected the kids’ shoes before they stepped in the door.  “You’re chewing!  What do you have in your mouth,” I would shriek, imagining some vile snack smeared on the upholstery.  A mere five weeks after I brought my new baby home, a dead tree branch broke from one of our enormous trees and laid a healthy little dent into the roof.  I could have cried.

Today, however, I’ve gotten over the newness of the car.  I now eat in my car, let the kids get into it without a second thought, and drive it in the rain.  Similarly, I’ve gotten over the irritation that I felt with that contractor last year, although I still remember it when I notice one of his less-than-perfect solutions around the house.

I mention this little phenomenon today because I realize the tendency we all have to get over the joy of our salvation, to get over the excitement of a new experience.  What seemed fabulously engaging last week might have turned into fabulously repetitive work by now.

But for the audiences we’re going to meet this weekend, each performance is the first they’ve seen.  If you can’t recover the new of The Presence for yourself, do your best to recover it for their benefit.

Pray for Tim Chin and the pageant budget

December 10—Performance

Scripture: Matthew 28:19-20

Let’s play word association.  I say, “biscuits,” and you say, “gravy.”   I say “elephant,” and you say “trunk.”  I say “Kim Blaco,” and you say, “GO!”

We like to joke about Kim’s devotion to leading her row into the choir loft.  After several years of her filling the choir room with that quick order, we find it a bit strange on the Sundays that she misses.  In fact, when she isn’t there, you’ll always hear several people shouting “GO!” in her place.

You might not know it, but Kim is one of the originals for pageant.  She’s been in each production since 1979, usually helping with make-up while also singing in the choir.  Kim’s not the best soprano in the choir, a fact I’m sure she’d agree with.  I’ve never heard her sing a solo.  She doesn’t do acting roles.  To the best of my knowledge, she doesn’t play an instrument, and, aside from a small group of choir members, she isn’t in charge of anything.

So what does Kim do?  GO!  You see, there are a lot of people more talented that she is, who don’t use those talents.  We have enormously talented people in this church on whom we simply can’t depend.  Some people run out of steam too soon.  Some lack confidence.  But that’s not Kim.  Point Kim in the right direction and she’ll GO!

Let’s think about this.  When Jesus prepared to leave his disciples, did he tell them to head for seminary?  Did he tell them to find the ministry that met their needs?  No!  He just told them to GO!

So tonight, whether Kim is with us or not, when the proper time comes, all you need to do is GO!

Pray for the Holy Spirit to fall upon our audience and on us this weekend.

December 11—Performances

Scripture: Philippians 2

I don’t want to go to church today.  All week long at work I dreaded today.  Last night wasn’t so bad.  Tomorrow will be more like a dream.  I jumped back into the routine that I’d established last week.  Things were new again for a few hours, but today—today I don’t want to go to church.  I don’t want to get ready for the performance.  I don’t want to see all those people.  I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want to live with them.  Last night was okay, but today I have to face the fact that this weekend will grind by with three more performances.  I probably won’t eat a meal at home until Monday.  I’ll be back at work Monday morning, worn out from the days that are supposed to relax me.  I just don’t want to go to church today!

Is that you?  Do you love the pageant but find yourself sick of it right now?  Does the prospect of three more performances make you feel ill?  Sure, tomorrow afternoon, as we sing the Hallelujah Chorus for the last time, you’ll probably get a bit misty about it all coming to an end, but right now, if you’re like most people, you’re finding it hard to carry on.

You don’t have to, you know.  You could just quit.  You could gather up your costume, dump it in the choir room, and walk away.  You could do that.

Before you do that, though, I want you to think about Jesus.  In Gethsemane, before Caiaphas, Herod, and Pilate, on the Via Dolorosa, and for hours on that cross, Jesus had the option to quit.  He could have called ten thousand angels—so the song says—at any moment along that path to death.  But each moment, he consciously chose to remain on that cross.  And he did it for you.  Think about that.  I’ll see you this afternoon.

Pray for endurance, patience, and love among all of us.

December 12—Performance

Scripture: Psalm 133

The light at the end of the tunnel is within sight, my friends, and it is not an oncoming train.  We’re going to make it through this project with no serious casualties—I pray—and a mighty work done on behalf of the kingdom of God—I pray again.  If I have to say something to pump you up today, then you’re a hopeless case.  Now is not the time to break new ground.  Now is the time to draw together and worship our God through this production that we now know so well.

You’ll sometimes here the casts of Broadway hits talk about when they knew they were part of something special.  Sure, it would have been cool to have been a part of a production like Fiddler on the Roof or A Chorus Line, a work of art that has burned itself onto the retina of our cultural consciousness, but let’s not forget, that those cast and crew members have nothing on us.

Today we draw together.  We are young and old, male and female, rich and poor.  We are of different races and possess different gifts.  We bring different offerings of praise and talent to this project.  But we serve the same God.  The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  The God who led Israel out of Egypt.  The God who delivered the promised land into Israel’s hand.  The God who gave His own son as a sacrifice for sin.  What a mighty God we serve!

This afternoon and tonight, whatever contribution you make to The Presence, let it be an offering to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  As we continue to perform at our best, let us at the same time worship this God of all Gods.  My brothers and sisters, He is worthy of all of our praise.     

Pray for all the people who have made this production possible

Dec. 13—Aftermath

Scripture:  Romans 12:1-2

Do you have your Christmas shopping done?  Due to the vagaries of the calendar, this year’s pageant is finishing closer to Christmas than any I can remember.  Next Sunday is Christmas Sunday, the 19^th.  The following Saturday is the big day itself. 

If you’re anything like me, the events of the last two weeks have so disrupted life that many things have gone on hold.  You might have a stack of unopened mail, a collection of bills to pay, phone messages to return, and, perhaps most worrying, Christmas shopping to do.  As you think about the many obligations lying ahead of you, including family, work, and church events, you might be inclined to smash your stereo when someone croons, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”

Still, today, with the worship center already being transformed to its normal appearance, you can glance back on The Presence and say, “I did my part for Jesus this year.  I can feel good about my contribution to the pageant.  Think about it.  If we had 600 people involved in the production and 1,200 were saved, shouldn’t that earn you a couple of crowns in heaven?  Isn’t that the way it works?

As you look down your shopping list today, you can strategize where to buy what for whom, but I’d encourage you to spend a few minutes today considering what you’ll get for God this year.  Considering how much God’s done for you, you really can’t consider your contribution to the pageant as a complete gift.  Surely you can do better.  He’d want you to do better.  If you don’t know what he’d like, just ask.  He’ll tell you.

Pray for the follow-up team who will be contacting those who made decisions and for those who made those decisions.