Life at the King's Gate

Well, praise God. I came down — the hotel, beautiful place where they've got me today — I came downstairs in the lobby, the breakfast setup thing there. And let's just say it was kind of crowded, and a guy came around the corner there expecting to walk right up and get his powdered eggs and his stale toast, you know, and he wasn't anticipating that crush of large mammals dining there, and he just kind of stopped. He wasn't with us, and he kind of stopped and he said, "Man, there's a lot of hungry men here today." I thought to myself, "You don't know the half of it, Bub."

It's a joy to be with you. I count it a great privilege to be here as a part of this gathering. And I love the Florida District. You gave me — outside of salvation, you gave me the greatest gift I have. She's at the hotel room back today, because she figured she'd stand out in here — and she would, because she's a lot prettier than all of you. But this district gave me a wonderful gift, and we've had a lot of connection here. And this district has been very kind to me, and I've stood in this pulpit several times, and I feel blessed by that. I don't take that for granted at all. So, thank you.

Now, the neat thing — or kind of unique, "unique" is the word — thing about the last session is: some of y'all are already several miles down I-75 in your mind right now. And, well, given the construction stuff, you're a few miles down I-75 right now. And I've got to try, for just a few minutes, to pull you back in here before you go. And I'm going to be courteous to your time, I promise. I'm going to do my very best. I don't plan to preach more than about 20 minutes. Of course, I've never planned to preach 20 minutes. I mean, I've never actually preached 20 minutes. But anyway.

Esther chapter 5 and verse number six. Esther 5, and I will read verse 6. And I know it's a little unique: you say, preach to a bunch of men, and you go to a book that's all a story about a lady. Esther chapter 5 and verse 6: "And the king said unto Esther at the banquet of wine, What is thy petition? and it shall be granted thee: and what is thy request? and it shall be performed, even to the half of the kingdom." That's a pretty generous offer. "Then answered Esther, and said, My petition and my request is; if I have found favour in the sight of the king, and if it please the king to grant my petition, and to perform my request, let the king and Haman come to the banquet that I shall prepare for them, and I will do to morrow as the king hath said."

I'll just give you a little aside: if you ever look at your wife and say, "Honey, you just tell me whatever you want" — the odds are not great she's going to say, "If you're going to give me anything I want, just let me cook dinner for you tomorrow night." That's one of the greatest miracles in the Bible right there.

Verse nine: "Then went Haman forth that day joyful and with a glad heart: but when Haman saw Mordecai in the king's gate, that he stood not up, nor moved for him, he was full of indignation against Mordecai. Nevertheless Haman refrained himself: and when he came home, he sent and called for his friends, and Zeresh his wife. And Haman told them of the glory of his riches" — now, this dude is an egomaniac. He brings his wife and his friends in, and all the Bible says he does is tell them about how great he is — "told them of the glory of his riches, and the multitude of his children, and all the things wherein the king had promoted him, and how he had advanced him above the princes and servants of the king. Haman said moreover, Yea, Esther the queen did let no man come in with the king unto the banquet that she had prepared but myself; and to morrow am I invited unto her also with the king. Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king's gate."

I'm going to preach today about life at the king's gate. Life at the king's gate. Amen. You can be seated. God bless you.

I started last night — I made the observation, and it's a sound one: I believe that as Pentecostals, we are geared to dramatic and powerful experiences. And certainly, in and of itself, there is nothing wrong with that. We were birthed into the church by a powerful experience. Acts 1:8: "But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth." There's nothing like the powerful, dynamic moment that birthed you into the kingdom. Nothing quite like the experience of receiving the baptism of the Holy Ghost. But I might add: that's not the end. I preached about it last night. I think every one of us who has lived for Jesus Christ for any length of time ought to be able to point to other services and prayer times and encounters with God when something dynamic and lasting occurred. We can point to events and moments. We can recount messages. We can enumerate God moments. Our spiritual existence is punctuated by high points that stand out in our minds.

We're in good company with that. Moses would take you to a bush that burned but didn't burn. Abraham would show you an altar in a nearby thicket, where a ram caught gave the promise of redemption. Jacob would point out a rock that he used as a pillow in Bethel, when the heavens were opened above him. Joseph would show you a prison cell in which dreams were interpreted. Gideon would take you to a valley littered with broken pitchers and used trumpets that assured the enemy's destruction. David would lead you by a brook that he reached into to pull out five smooth stones. Daniel would show you a hole in the ground where he spent the night with some lions. The boys from Judea would show you a furnace that one time was seven times as hot as it had ever been before. Peter would take you to a spot out on the sea where he walked on the water. Paul would lead you halfway to Damascus and show you a place of a voice and a light. John would take you to a rocky island in the Mediterranean where the future unfolded in visions and prophecies.

It's a glorious thing to walk with Jesus Christ. But for as glorious as those moments are, that's not life. Life is not an unending stream of unforgettable moments. Life is faithfulness in extremely forgettable moments. Life is not comprised of merely enjoying the spectacular. Life is comprised of enduring during the ordinary. Kingdom life is not made up of celebrating in glory moments. Kingdom life is made up of serving in glory moments — when no one sees, and no record is kept, and no books are being written, and nobody will ever talk about it again. Faithfulness is found when you go in the prayer room when nobody else is there and you intercede for your city — that's life. It's not Sunday, when you sing the solo with the choir. It's not even here, when Brother Elms has you stand up and we all clap for you. It's when nobody even sees it, but you say, "This is just between me and You," and you just live for God. You do your job when nobody even sees it. Life is not faithfulness in seasons of notoriety. Life is faithfulness in seasons of monotony. Life, as the book of Esther will show us, is an existence at the king's gate.

I love the story of Esther. It's a fascinating account. A queen who will not be paraded before her husband's drunken friends is removed from the throne. A search is made for her replacement, and a servant girl named Esther is chosen. Her Hebrew lineage, of course, is hidden from the king until a wicked first lieutenant of the land named Haman plots the destruction of her people — recognizing, per her elders' counsel, that she had come to the kingdom for just such a moment. She lays out her own plan. She lures Haman in by his own pride, and then seduces the king's judgment against him. Her people are saved. The enemy is destroyed. And to this day, the Jewish nation celebrates those events in their annual feast of Purim. It is a great story of love and intrigue and betrayal and God's deliverance. There are so many lessons that can be gleaned from this account, but I shall attempt to limit myself really to just one today.

Woven into this story about a very famed lady in Scripture is a behind-the-scenes man named Mordecai. He is a relative of Esther, and was apparently her guardian and her adviser. Now, let's start down the story — I kind of got a long runway and then a short flight. So just keep your seat backs and tray tables in the fully upright and locked position.

The story starts with a case of royal insomnia. The king — and it's obviously God's plan — but the king, a man named Ahasuerus — and you don't like your name — he can't sleep one night. And we don't know exactly why. We don't know why he was awake. Maybe it was care of his kingdom. Maybe he was consumed with ambition about future conquest and lands. Maybe his conscience bothered him for his ungodly ways. Perhaps he was just emotionally overwrought. I don't know. I doubt he hadn't tried everything — he was the king; he had all things at his disposal. He probably switched from his cushy bed to his cushy couch and back again. He had paced, and counted the lines on the floor and the pattern in the drapes. He had rearranged the pillows. He had probably swapped from down-filled to foam and back again. He had read. He had drunk warm milk. He'd had a snack. Nothing worked. Then he has an idea: "I know what'll put me to sleep. Somebody read me some history." And so he calls for the chronicles to be read, thinking, "Surely that will bore me into slumber." And instead, he is instantly more awake than he's ever been. He hears the account and is reminded of two of the king's closest aides who had plotted to kill him previously. Here it is — let me read it for you. This is what woke him up that night. Esther 2:21: "In those days, while Mordecai sat in the king's gate, two of the king's chamberlains, Bigthan and Teresh, of those which kept the door, were wroth, and sought to lay hand on the king Ahasuerus. And the thing was known to Mordecai, who told it unto Esther the queen; and Esther certified the king thereof in Mordecai's name. And when inquisition was made of the matter, it was found out; therefore they were both hanged on a tree: and it was written in the book of the chronicles before the king."

I just want to stop and say something. I don't know what your life is like, but how do you forget that? I mean, I have a rather busy schedule, and there might be a few things slip past me, but I think if two dudes plotted to kill me, and somebody came and told me, and I hanged them, I might remember that. I want to know, dude — this guy had a rough life. How often did this happen to him, that that was just, "Oh, I forgot"? Dear God, help this man. Give him some supplements from the store or something. I mean, the dude forgot that there were two guys going to kill him. And it all comes back to him when they read him this story. It just — he remembers all of a sudden. I mean, I do know kings were frequently overthrown, but how do you forget that moment? We don't know exactly what they were going to do — if they were going to poison him, or suffocate him in his sleep, or military overthrow. But what we do know is they were keepers of the door. And while they're standing outside the door plotting, Mordecai is sitting over there by the gate. And he heard about it, and he reported it, and he saved the king's life.

So, in Esther 6:3, the king says, "What honour and dignity hath been done to Mordecai for this? Then said the king's servants that ministered unto him, There is nothing done for him." Now ponder this: Mordecai has saved the king's life. You'd think he could have cashed in on that a little bit — and he ain't got nothing for it. The thing that's amazing to me is where the Bible says he still was. Even though he didn't get rewarded for teaching that Sunday school class, you could still find him up there the next Sunday. Even though they didn't give him a plaque or a banquet, he was still cleaning the baptistry the next week, because he said, "I didn't get in this for what I can get out of it. I just want to serve the king." I'm preaching to some men. You know what your pastor needs? He needs you to rise up and say, "I don't have to have appreciation banquets. Nobody has to pat me on the back. If nobody ever thanks me, you can count on me, Pastor. I'm still going to be teaching that Bible study, because I didn't do it for what you can give me. I did it because I'm serving the king." What do we ever give him for doing that? We ain't give him nothing. Well, that can't be allowed to continue.

And so a fateful question is asked, in Esther 6:4. And the king said, "Who is in the court?" At that very minute, Haman has — now, you want to talk about bad timing. At that moment that the king has just been reminded that Mordecai saved his life, Haman is there to ask if he can kill Mordecai. That ain't going to go well. He is sitting out there waiting to come in and ask if he can kill the guy that the king just remembered saved his life.

And why — I ain't got quite there. Just come. Why is Haman so furious at Mordecai? What has he ever done to him? I mean, did he kick his puppy? Did he stomp in his wet cement? What has Mordecai done to make Haman so mad? The Bible tells us exactly why Haman couldn't stand him: because he is the one guy that won't bow. Would you like to know how you can give hell ulcers? Just refuse to bow when he walks through the king's gate. Let the enemy see you faithfully serving your king, and don't — I'm sorry, I really want to try to preach today. You don't have to do anything spectacular to aggravate hell. Just don't bow to him. When he tries to get you to compromise your morals, don't bow. When he tries to get you to bleed on your ethics, don't bow. Just plant your feet and say, "I am serving my king. I'm doing what God called me to do. I'm being a blessing to my pastor. I'm teaching this Sunday school class. I'm cleaning this toilet. I'm doing this for my—" I don't care if you don't like it, but I'm not going to bow to you. I won't bow to your threats. I won't bow to your temptations. I won't bow to anything you've got to offer, because I'm serving the king.

Haman couldn't stand it. He was rich. He had possessions. He had family. He had possessions. He had the king's trust. He thought he had the favor of the queen. But all this faded to nothing when that one guy wouldn't bow to him. One man refused to bow when everybody else was. I can't help it if anybody else compromises. This is who I am. I can't control what anybody else does. They may all kiss their forehead to the pavement every time he walks by — but not me. I will stand for righteousness. I will stand for a godly marriage. I will stand for raising my kids holy. Dear God, men, take a stand.

All right, you need a story. And I happen to have one. Works out that way. I was preaching one time in a church that's located between the oceans — north of Bolivia and south of Santa. I'd been there about three nights, and on Sunday morning this family walks in. Mom and dad, they've been there all week, and they walked in. This dude's got a daughter with him. She's about fifteen-ish. And I don't mean to be crude — I won't be crude — but let's just say she was insufficiently clad. Got more fabric in that hanky than she was wearing. I think — I was not mad at her. She's a teenager. She's dumber than a bag of hair. But I wanted to walk back to that dad and say, "Sir, can I pray for you? Because you are obviously blind — because I know there's no way you would have seen your daughter look like that and bring her outside your door, much less to church. So I'm thanking the grace of God to let you drive here today stone blind. I want to pray God to heal your eyesight, because when you see how she's dressed, you're going to give her your sport coat."

I felt bad for that pastor. He shouldn't have to go back and say to that young lady, "Hey, darling, that's not right." We needed a man to stand up and say, "As for me and my house—" I'm not advocating for you to be a bully, or be a tyrant, or provoke your kids unto wrath, but dear God, men: have your pastor's back and stand up and say, "We don't watch that here. We don't wear that here. We don't go there. We don't talk like that. As for me and my house—" "Well, I just want my kids to make their own decision." What? "As for me and my house—" They're under my— My son told me one time — I had a parent telling me one time, I talked about, "I go in my son's room when I want to." She said, "Well, what about his privacy?" I said, "Privacy comes with a mortgage. Privacy comes with a lease. But as long as that's me and my house, if you're here, I'm going to take a stand. I'm not bowing, and you're not bowing in my house." Are you hearing what I'm telling you? Mordecai drove the enemy crazy when he just took a stand.

"Well, I'll bring my kids to church. Let the youth pastor straighten them out. Here's $5. Go buy a spine." You gutless wonder. Want to beat on your chest and talk about how you're a man, but you won't even stand up to the enemy when he tries to compromise your household. Come on, sir. Rise up on your hind legs and say, "I'm not bowing. My family's not bowing. This is who we are. This is how we live."

Haman couldn't stand him because he just wouldn't bow. Who is he? He has nothing. No money, no fame, no pedigree, no notoriety. No one knows him. Nobody bows to him. He didn't even have a reserved parking place outside the Florida tabernacle. He's just an insignificant someone doing an insignificant job. Just a Sunday school teacher. Just a greeter at the door on Sunday. Just an usher. Just a choir member. Just a security worker. Just a church cleaner. Just a Bible quiz coach. Just a sound tech. Just a camera operator. Just a guy that mows the churchyard. Just the guy who puts the chemicals in the baptistry water. Just a guy who comes and gathers up the wet towels and carries them down to the washer after we baptize somebody. He don't preach on Sunday. He doesn't have a business card. His name's not on the marquee. Just a man who worships every service. Just a man who knows his way to the prayer room. Just a man who demonstrates faithfulness to his family. Just a man who comes on Wednesday just like he comes on Sunday. Just a man who is the same thing on Monday as he is when he's in church. He's not much. He's just a man at the king's gate who refuses to bow.

"Who's out there?" "Uh, Haman." "Send him in." Here's Esther 6:6. And the king said unto him, "What shall be done unto the man whom the king delighteth to honour?" Well, I mean, Haman is convinced it must be him. Who else would the king be speaking of? Certainly not one of the common multitude. Certainly not just a bit player in the cast of the kingdom. Certainly not somebody who labors in unseen corners on unappreciated tasks. It couldn't be the guy the pastor calls when the bathroom toilet starts leaking. Surely it's the guy that preached the last revival. It couldn't be that guy just out there at the king's gate. That's not who — no, it's got to be — well, let's see, me. And so he quickly designs his own parade. Well, you know, I mean, if it were me, I guess I'd honor the man by getting him a tailored $2,000 Hart Schaffner Marx suit, with its accompanying free pair of breeches, $250 Zegna necktie, $400 pair of leather Johnston & Murphy wingtips, all hand-delivered by the White House staff, of course. I would equip him with a cool, genuine ostrich-hide briefcase with a biometric lock system, cutting-edge tablet computer with universal internet access, new iPhone or Android, however you lean, Montblanc pen, personal aide to care for his every need. I'd put him in a motorcade of stretch limousines, with Secret Service agents riding shotgun in their black Suburbans, and parade him all over the city. I'd hold a press conference on the Rose Garden on the White House lawn and give great honor in front of the nation. I'd let him use the official presidential seal on all his documents. I would promote this man to be ambassador to the nations of the world.

Haman got so caught up in his own self-promotion that the more he suggested, the more self-congratulatory steam he generated. Well, okay — so that was the Scott Graham translation. Copies are available in the lobby. Well, I'll tell you what I'd do: I'd get the royal apparel. I'd get the king's horse and the royal crown. I'd send a highly ranked prince to robe and crown that man and lead him through the town saying, "Thus shall it be done for the man whom the king delighteth to honour."

And just as he was about to give his robe size and crown size, the king says this. Imagine Haman's horror when he heard verse 10: "Make haste, and take the apparel and the horse, as thou hast said, and do even so to Mordecai the Jew" — watch that — "that sitteth at the king's gate." Don't worry, you'll know where to find him. He'll be teaching that junior Sunday school class he's been teaching for 20 years. Don't worry, you'll know where to find him. He'll be cleaning the baptistry after the service is over. Don't worry, you can always catch him — he's carrying trash out to the dumpster after the church dinner. That's the guy that gets honored. That's the guy who gets the reward. That's the guy that I honor, man.

I'm pleading with you: don't get weary in well-doing. I know where to find him. He'll be praying with his kids before he puts them to bed at night. I know where to find him. He'll be leading devotions with his family. I know where to find him. He'll be in his easy chair first thing in the morning, reading the Bible before he reads the sports section. "You go do that to Mordecai the Jew, that sitteth at the king's gate. And let nothing fail of all that thou hast spoken." Yeah, you can find him. He'll be giving up his Sunday afternoon nap so he can come to choir practice. You can find him. He'll be getting there early to make sure his usher's jacket looks just right. You can find him. It won't be hard. He'll be the guy leading the men's prayer meeting on Tuesday night. He don't ever get to preach on Sunday, but he never misses a Tuesday. You want to find him? Just go to Bible study on Wednesday night. He'll be there. Some of them are only there on Sundays. Some are only CEOs — Christmas and Easter only. But the guy at the king's gate, he's there on Bible study. If the pastor calls a special prayer meeting, he's there. If we have a three-night revival, he don't pick and choose which ones he's coming to. He lives at the king's gate.

Man, I'll tell you what your pastor needs. He needs some guys. He don't have to wonder if you're going to be there. He can always find you, because you serve the king — not in the throne room, but at the king's gate. Your pastor shouldn't have to worry about if the shrubs get trimmed, because there's somebody at the king's gate — just keeps that taken care of.

All right, now watch here. Here we go. Watch. I'm going to get there. This whole introduction — longest introduction you've ever heard. How it must have burned Haman to place that robe. It must have killed the dude that had the solo with the choir to put the robe on the back of the guy that empties the trash cans, lead him through the streets singing his praises. But, my dear brothers, I would suggest that the most significant line of this story comes after the parade is over. It is a small and easily overlooked phrase that describes the aftermath of this event. It describes what happens after men's conference is over. They are the very next words after his moment in the limelight, after he has dismounted off the horse, handed the robe back, given the crown back. The Bible says this, in Esther 6:12: "And Mordecai came again to the king's gate."

He didn't think he deserved a parade every day. He didn't think they had to pat him on the back every day. The celebration is over. "Thank you. I enjoyed the cake. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go back to that Sunday school class and chasing those little kids around, because I got one in there that's about to get the Holy Ghost. And that matters more to me than the horseback ride." "Hey, Pastor, I don't have to have public acclaim. I just want to be the guy in the prayer room interceding for our city. It's not about who sees it. It's not about everybody patting you on the back and telling you how great you are. It's saying, 'I just want to go back to the king's gate. I just want to go back to my job. I just want to go back to serving.'"

It's going to get ugly about right now. He didn't get off a horse and say, "What time you coming back tomorrow? Is there a bigger gate I can serve at? What does the king intend for me next? I mean, surely — surely when I come here tomorrow, they're going to come out and say, 'You ain't sitting out here anymore. The king wants you right up there beside him.'" He wants you — well, watch — he wants you up there by the throne, so every time somebody bows to him, you'll just assume they're bowing to you, too. He surely — he's going to put me up there beside him, so every time somebody praises him, they'll praise me a little bit. He said, "No — let me tell you how I serve the king: right out there. Because it just might be that two other guys are going to plot to kill him. And if I'm not there, who's going to stop it? If I don't mow the grass, the pastor might have to get out and do it. I'd rather he study and get a word for Sunday. You don't understand. It's not about what I get. It's about what I can give." And Mordecai said, "I tell you when I'll be greatest: it's when I leave the parade and I go back to the king's gate. Back to the service that others demean. Back to the position that God has chosen for me. Back to the place of commitment that some have no time for. Back to the ministry that some considered beneath them. Back to the place that God used me once before. Back to that place where I take a stand and will not bow."

He did not believe that he would long survive on thanksgiving parades and appreciation banquets and achievement awards. He did not try to prolong the honor. He did not try to squeeze out more accolades. He did not wait for his friends to come by so he could relive his day. He did not attempt to gather falsely the attention of the king. He just went back to that place where he knew his service was effective. He just went back to being a dad. He just went back to faithful prayer. He just went back to heartfelt worship. He just went back to generous giving. He just went back to unseen devotion. Mordecai understood, in some profound way, that prosperity and promotion have slain far more than adversity and disappointment. I would maintain that Mordecai was never greater than when he returned to the king's gate.

The conference is almost over, man. We spent the last 24 hours extolling you and lauding you — telling you how wonderful you are, what a difference you can make, how significant you are to the kingdom, how important you are. I hope you enjoyed the horse ride, bull ride. We've handed out trophies. We've applauded. We've had you stand. We've told you how vital you are. But where are you going now, sir? Are you going to go home with an attitude that you're so important the church couldn't function without you — or are you going to take that robe off, peel off that crown, hand the reins of the horse back to somebody else, and say, "All I want to do is go back"? "I was about to tell my pastor I was going to quit teaching that Sunday school class. I get so frustrated with them little boys. But somebody's got to reach them, and somebody's got to love them." "My quiz team is getting aware on me" — I was going to quit, but somebody's got to lead them. Somebody's got to touch them. And if the king has put me there, I'm not going to bow to fatigue. I'm not going to bow to frustration. I am not going to bow to aggravation. I will serve where He put me.

It's over. The horse is going to go back to the stall. We're going to rub him down, have Brother Fuller give him a new pair of shoes — this is not a pair. A horse has four legs. I remember. The celebration's over. Men's conference is over. Where are you going to go? I plead with you, sir: go back to the king's gate. Back to where you serve. Back to what you do. Now — hey, hey — don't go back like you were. I hope you go back better than you were. I hope you're going back hungry. I hope you're going back as that man. I hope you're going back as that guy that he'll be there, that he preached about yesterday. So I'm not advocating to go back like you were. I'm advocating you go back where you were.

But we were thinking about — oh, man, it's going to get ugly now — we think about moving town, over to that bigger church. Why don't you stay where you are and make yours that bigger church? Don't you start sticking your eyes on some bigger church across town if you're not teaching a Bible study to help yours grow. Pick up that Bible study chart and go back to the king's gate. Go out on bus ministry and go back to the king's gate. Go out and bring in a bunch of kids to Sunday school on Sunday. Go back to the king's gate.

Stand with me. I wonder how easy it would have been when Mordecai went back to that gate the next day. It would have been awfully easy — easy for human temptation — for that gate to not look quite as glamorous as it did the day before. Once you've tasted the parade in your honor, the hinges look a little rusty, the wood looks a little potted — it'd be easy to spot all the flaws and kind of wonder why you don't deserve something better. There's a settling kind of depression that could have clouded his vision. But Mordecai demonstrated his greatness by his willingness to go back again.

Hear me: greatness in life, and greatness in church, is determined by how many are willing to return to the king's gate. It's not how many are willing to come here and celebrate. It's how many are willing to go back and serve. To be willing to remain faithful to a family in a culture that discards such commitment. To be willing to be faithful to a ministry role when others just do enough to get by. To be willing to serve around the church in ways that nobody sees. To return time after time, week after week, Sunday after Sunday, to the king's gate, with no feeling that I am above doing so. With no feeling that God ought to promote me. With no feeling that I should get to choose what I want. With no feeling of jealousy towards somebody that gets a different job. I'm just going back. I'm just returning. I'm just continuing to stand in a culture where everybody else bows. I'm just offering myself. I'm just going to be right where I am, right where He needs me. And the next time He wants me, He'll know where to find me, because I will be living at the king's gate.

Let me explain something to you, and I'm done. Up where I live, we have this thing called snow. I have to explain it to y'all. Visualize shaved ice without the flavor. Got it? Okay, I'm helping you. It falls out of the sky, piles up on the ground. It's like manna. You can eat it. I don't recommend it, but you can. It's troubling, because it's hard to drive in.

Back when I was pastoring, we went through one year, my brother. It snowed every weekend for like eight weeks in a row. It'd be pretty all week, snow on the weekend. I was so mad. We canceled more church in that eight-week period — I think we was training for COVID. We just didn't know. I mean, it snowed every week. I finally told Bishop Nugas one week — I said, after a bunch of this, I said, "We're having church this Sunday. I don't care what happens. I don't care if the abominable snowman is sitting in the third pew. We're having church this Sunday. I don't care if nobody shows up except me and my wife." I had made up my mind about Wednesday. They start forecasting another major winter storm coming this weekend. I'm standing out in the yard going, "Serious?" Sure enough, man, the longer the forecast went through the week — "this storm's going to hit Saturday night about 8:00." And it did. The one time in the whole year they get the forecast right — had to be that week. It started snowing about 8:00 Saturday. By Sunday morning, we have about eight or nine inches of snow. I was like — I said, "We're having church. I don't care. We're having church." So I got on the phone. I called about half a dozen young, preacher-minded guys in my church. I said, "Put your suit on, and then put on your boots. Bring your shovel. Meet me at church." And we go down to church. We get there, and we start shoveling off sidewalks, shoveling off — you know, throwing salt and getting everything ready. But here's the thing, folks. The plow — I'm sorry, that's a thing they put on the front of a truck to push the snow off the parking lot — it hadn't got there yet. They were so busy. So the lot is not even plowed yet. Now, hear me well. I got a point. I'm telling you — I see you smiled. I'm going to bust you right in the nose. I have already received phone calls and texts from 20 young, healthy families: "I don't think we can get there, Pastor. It's bad out, Pastor. I don't think we can make it. It's bad. It's bad. It's bad." We're up there shoveling sidewalks, and the first car pulls into the parking lot. It's 80-year-old Marion Gunn. He comes driving in. He can't even — the lot hasn't been plowed. He can't even find the handicap spot. He parks the car. He gets out with his walker, plowing ruts in the snow. I ran down to him. I said, "Elder, what are you doing here?" And he preached the most eloquent three-word sermon I've ever heard. He looked at me and said, "Isn't it Sunday?"

I wish to God, when hell is beating you to a pulp and you show up at church and he says, "What are you doing here?" — you just look at him and say, "Isn't it Sunday? You don't understand, hell. You can't stop me. This is where I live. This is life to me. This church — this church is everything to me. That Sunday school class means everything to me. Being an usher means everything to me."

Come on, man. Your pastor needs men he can count on, that aren't looking for a better offer. They're just planting their feet in the king's gate. And if anybody pats you on the back, you say, "Thank you." And you go back again. I would to God, men of the Florida District, that you'd throw your hands up and make a covenant with God today, that you're going to live your life — you're going to serve your church — at the king's gate. Come on, men. Come on, men. You ought to go find your pastor. Get up there and say, "Pastor, pray for me. I want to serve this church. I don't need anything better. I'm not looking for a better offer. I just want to serve you. I want to serve this church." Come on, men. Every day is Sunday. Every day is a day you ought to be praying. Every day is a day you ought to be worshiping. I don't care how much it snows. I don't care how bad it gets. Come on, men of Florida. After you leave this two-day parade, go back to the king's gate.