Allen Patterson

If you are just visiting this blog, then let me be the first to say – welcome!

If you’ve come over from my family connection, the photo above was taken by Ladell Patterson of his father, my grandfather, RC Patterson Jr. I’m working on a piece about my grandfather, so stay tuned! Coming soon!!

A link to part of my personal story is above, along with a page of links to people I recommend you follow and read. If you are a visitor arriving from the CHM discussion over on Laura’s blog, you may find 3 of my responses under the My Story link above or by going to to Part 1, Part 2, or Part 3.

If you’re not interested in my particular religious background, then by all means, don’t read those links, and let’s do something else – together! But I’ll warn you now – I like to write and talk about God things, so I hope you’re not easily offended.

A recent post is below this one and follows the format I endeavor to keep – an interesting and quality photo, followed by the post of the day [or week]…

I welcome your comments, suggestions, input and discussion. Glad to have you on board!

I could’ve told you it was going to happen before it ever did. But it still caught me by surprise.

I recently experienced something unique and rare – at least for me -  the opportunity to minister, speak and counsel in several succeeding venues  and in each of them there was a freedom to speak unbound by fear or toxicity of faith, there were confirmations of the Spirit at work in the hearts and lives of the listeners and in myself, and there was a flow of Grace unparalleled in the previous 30 years of my ministry.

The uniqueness was in the variety of scope and audience found in these venues, which included a small group of local ministers, an article in the local newspaper, participation and speaking in two community political gatherings, speaking at a gathering of local churches for a community worship service, traveling and speaking in Africa, multiple out-of-state phone calls and online forums and finally, preaching at a local church where I do not attend. And while I’ve done all of that before, it has never been so compressed into such a short time frame and with such freedom.

And it’s this freedom thing which just did not happen during my years with official position and title in multiple ministry arenas. There was always some line of poison, some false definition of ministry and it’s accompanying soul-draining, energy vacuum that left me a bit more wooden and dead inside than the time before.

The thing is, I’m not something special, nor do I claim to be holier than anyone else. As will become clear, quite the opposite is probably true. I am at a new place, and it appears that the promise God gave us to bring us to a “spacious place” is coming true in ways I could never imagine. And yet – my voice is being heard and the Light is shining through, even though I have recently been at a loss to explain even this. Nor do I desire to mention these things or be accused of boasting – but what happened next is hard to admit, even though not surprising….

In the face of all of that, I was suddenly asked to provide counsel to two dear friends facing quite different circumstances. In both cases, I had invested myself heavily in previous years, attempting to be a true friend and showing a way forward in dark times. In both cases, there had been previous successes and previous woundings in my own life as a result of our friendships. But after getting off of the phone last week with each of them, I realized that I was helpless to change anything about their current situations. I was unable to fix any part of their brokenness. I was not even sure I had a voice in their life. I was undone.

With several other minor darts and thrusts, the enemy soon had me cowering in shame and despair. That sinister murmur said over and over that it was no use, there was no hope, things would not change for them or me. I was tired. I was alone. I was frustrated. I was helpless.

I’ll make my confession here and now – I  listened. And then I agreed. And it was just a few short moments later that I decided I was done. In anger and bitterness I declared my independence from such a God as this and turned away in my heart and mind….

To write the back story and all the surrounding factors would take more time than you care to listen, but suffice it to say I awoke the next morning to find myself lost and undone. I recognized my heart had made decisions that my head said were ridiculous, yet I could not figure out how to get back, how to reconnect the two.

I sent a voice mail to a friend pleading for prayer and then with people around, couldn’t pick up the phone when he called back. I picked up my mask and I managed. I tried to pray. I tossed and turned, I went to work. But things were not the same.

It was roughly 48 hours later that I suddenly heard a whisper in my ear. A friend was giving me counsel and Abba surprised us both when He said, “It was never your righteousness anyway – it was always mine!”

At first I was speechless. You see, quite honestly, I want it to be my righteousness. I want it to be something I can control, something I can manipulate, something I can work up – because then I can fix it when it goes so desperately wrong! I’m a pretty damn good fixer! My top strength is Restorative – I know how to analyze, troubleshoot, repair and reload. I’ve done it all my life.

But I’m also a quick learner, and I had already come to the knowledge that I was utterly unable to save myself, to rebuild the bridge back to my Father. I needed His mercy, love and forgiveness and in that simple statement, He offered it all back.

I never had anything of my own to begin with, and the ultimate deception comes when we think we do, when we think somehow we can earn, control or manipulate the Love of the Heavenly Father in our own hearts and lives. Possibly, those of us in ministry are more susceptible to this error than others as we “perform” our duties, but the tendency is there in all of our broken, natural selves. It is absolutely not about me. It is absolutely ALL about Him.

The words of Keith Getty and Stuart Townend sum it up for me.

What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

Not sure who said this, probably was me… but I didn’t document… author’s nemesis…

“It’s a Dangerous Life, jumping off the pedestal people have put you on, breaking the mold – but the alternative is far more ominous. You could live life as civilized and genteel as possible and be quite comfortable. But if you follow that path of least resistance your whole life, you will die weak and afraid… we push our kids into safe things and then wonder why they go astray into a thousand different twisted forms of entertainment.”

Caution… poem in progress….

here’s some of my process…. updates may occur frequently (or not)… feel free to help me in the comment section…

No Games For Me

8     No games for me, no politics

8      of who you know or who knows you

8      what you can do with what you have

9     obfusticating phrases like the

5    salesman that you are

7    ”better them than me,” you say

8     you need to know — I just won’t play

8    No games for me, no posing schtick

8     of telling lies while miming truth

8     or hiding candy in mouths of babes

9

5

7

8

She sucks the sweets from sour grapes

What if I made you a promise that I could teach you a secret word, which once learned and used properly, would change your life forever?

Mankind has long been in search of a bit of magic, a silver bullet if you will, to change the things we want to change in our lives – which is one reason the lottery is so successful in our country. We buy things to make us happy, we take chemicals to make us feel different, we do everything we can think of and when we can’t think of something, we turn on the television and let it talk us into something or someone new. All in an attempt to change what we could change if we just knew the power of this simple word.

When used properly, this word will give you more time in the day. It can make you more money, make you more efficient, and cause you to become a master in any profession. When you get to the point in your life that you care more about your health than you do what others think of you, this word will immediately lessen your stress levels, decrease your blood pressure, and increase your ability to focus. It has even been known to reduce cholesterol levels within thirty days.

This word directly impacts those bad habits we try so hard to overcome, can help us break addictions, and will even help us lose weight. Think of that – losing weight with the power of a single word. Millions of dollars could be saved over all the publications, programs and pills if this gets out. I might need to get some bodyguards….

Researchers who know what to look for will tell you that every single American president, every world leader, in fact, knew and used this word to achieve their high level of success. Name any top athlete in any sport, and I will tell you that their success could not have been achieved without the use of this knowledge. Every rock, rap and country star knew this word and used it well, and by it reached the top of the charts. Every author, business leader and teacher knows and uses this word every day. And I am going to reveal this word to you in just a few moments.

Granted, once you receive this word, you will be educated and may think you are now in control. But, as one author has said, education does not equal knowledge. People have used this word without a lot of thought and as a result, their lives get twisted around rather quickly. Workaholics need to use it to get a healthy balance in their lives, employees need to use it to increase their productivity… oh, I could go on and on and on. I guess what I’m trying to say is that even once you learn the word, it may take a lifetime to know how and when to put it to use. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Nike came out with one of the top marketing campaigns of all time in 1988 with the slogan, “Just Do It!” Theirs was such a successful advertising program precisely because the majority of people didn’t know the power of this word I’m talking about. Massive amounts of money are still being spent as a result of Nike’s campaign, in our attempt to look and dress like the stars. You can be sure that when it comes to their advertising campaign, Nike doesn’t want you to know or use this word.

Also in the eighties, during Reagan’s presidency, Nancy Reagan created and launched a marketing campaign in an effort to combat escalating drug use. This campaign relied explicitly on the use if this word I’ve been talking about, and it was a good campaign, as far as that goes. But because humans  don’t have the power within themselves to use this word properly  – the campaign has failed miserably when it comes to reducing overall drug use.

You see when it comes right down to it, as humans we’d much rather “just do it” than to “just say no!”

No, you didn’t miss it. That was it.

The word is “No!”

A thought provoking post on Short Term Mission Trips over on Jamie’s, “the Very Worst Missionary” blog…

Read it here… and comment on the end of her blog with your thoughts….

I’ll share my thoughts later

The hardest thing about going to Lesotho, Africa is coming home. Exactly the reason I was unsure about even going in the first place.

Of course, there’s the jet lag… You’d think coming back across six time zones would be energizing and invigorating…. Wrong! The first day, you’re a bit tired from the long flight times and connecting flights or drives to and from the airport, and you sleep pretty soundly. The next two days, you’re hammered with all the things left undone while you were gone by the people who know you best and know that no one can do these things quite like you, and so they were graciously waiting your return.

The decompression and unwinding doesn’t hit you until about day four, and it’s all downhill from there. Ideally, there should be 4 to 7 days to debrief and gather yourself upon returning from such a mission, but most don’t have the time. I’m no exception. Today makes the eighth day since I returned, and I am just now back to 100%.

And as hard as all of that is, the real difficulty lies in knowing all that you left undone while you were there. The weight comes from thinking about all the places you didn’t go, the people you didn’t get to listen to, the teaching you didn’t get to finish, the sights you didn’t get to see, the projects left incomplete, the lessons you didn’t learn…. It’s always the hardest part for me.

Maybe it’s my high sense of responsibility or maybe it’s a bit of Type A personality blended with touch of Napoleon Complex, thinking I could get it ALL done, but whatever the case, I hate stopping in the middle of anything…

And it’s not like Lesotho needs my help. There are men and women with accomplishments and skills that surpass many others who have been born and raised in this beautiful land. In many ways, the dark continent has become a light and a leader in a dark universe. They have dreams, hopes and visions and a deep passion to see their world continue to change for the better. There is much for me to learn from these beautiful people and this unique culture.

But the sad truth is – they do need my help… or I should say – our help. Especially when it comes to mentorship, partnerships and encouragement. For the sad but simple fact remains that our knowledge bank and access to resources surpass theirs on many levels. In a land of vast mineral resources, beauty and passion, they wake each morning to great poverty and need. Their best and brightest are recruited to other lands – some to America – where they are forever changed. Their men are forced to travel outside the country to work in mines and fields where the working conditions wreak horrible physical and spiritual toll under the tattered remnants of Apartheid. Many women and children are forced into prostitution, and/or become victims of human trafficking to all parts of Africa. The few who obtain jobs at the textile companies outside of Maseru, or in the mines and water projects in the mountains face exposure to chemical and industrial hazards which greatly impact both current and future health conditions.

So, in spite of my personal inadequacies and in the face of great need, I will continue to partner with and support this great country and these beautiful people. If you are interested in discovering how you can partner with us, please comment below or message me for details. And if you live in Lesotho and think I’ve misrepresented anything, please – let us dialogue. I’d love to get to know you and learn more about your country.

God paints the sky;

Luminous colors and whimsical clouds

Textured together to beautify

Our days…

Let us praise

The One who paints the sky!

God paints the sky;

Reflective moisture and ethereal winds

Blended together to signify

His ways…

Let us praise

The One who paints the sky!

God paints the sky;

Translucent darkness and omniscient light

Woven together to glorify

Our gaze…

Let us praise

The One who paints the sky!

© 2007 S. Allen Patterson

Things rarely happen as planned in Africa. Schedules are tentative, and get tossed and twisted often – or should I say – always.

Yesterday was such a day. And so is today. We had planned some work for today, but the procurement, transport & delivery of the supplies won’t happen until tomorrow [maybe]. At least we found out about it early, so we had time to change up a bit. As we prayed and listened, what kept coming up was to get the team with children today – so Roger took the team to Ha Masana to check on things and to find a primary school that might let the team in to sing and play games. If they are successful, I promise you that the impact will go both ways.

I, however, rode a combi into Maseru and am experiencing Lesotho as I never have. It is time to immerse myself in a culture of drastic differences. Outside this internet cafe, the constant, incessant beeping of the taxis and combies, combined with diesel exhaust provide a background that can produce a driving headache in short time. Everyone has cell phones as they have skipped the whole land-line world. In one block of here there are at least 6 places to buy cell phones, sim cards and microSD cards. At the local gift shop there are free condoms on the counter and billboards advertise, “You can trust a man who uses Trustee Condoms.”

Yet the HIV/AIDS rate continues to climb and when we drove into Maseru on Sunday, the circumcision girls were in full display on the city square. Shepherd boys lead their flocks through the streets in search of greener grass for their cows and sheep.

As I walked into the Internet Cafe, a scream ripped the air as a thief grabbed a pair of shoes from someone just coming out of a store, and instantly, a dozen yelling, screaming people were in full run after the “thief, thief!” while another boy instantly turns and runs the other way. Probably his accomplice. The thief is running for his life, and so rounds the corner without being apprehended. But others joined the chase and if he escapes, it will be by the skin of his teeth.

A few minutes later, the police march a criminal in handcuffs up the sidewalk. It’s not the same boy. The street rascals are at work this morning in Maseru.

And we are facing challenges as a team. Health issues, bad dreams and sleepless nights have already given indication that the life, hope and love we bring are opposed by an angry enemy. So be it. We don’t take it lightly, but know it comes with the territory. Even so, your prayers are so very vital to what we are doing.

Yesterday’s schedule change was in part due to health challenges, but ended up taking us into the Drakensburg Mountains, where we were privileged to meet the people and children of Phelisanong, near Pitseng. These beautiful people care for the most vulnerable of Lesotho’s children and adults. Our team was broken as they interacted very briefly with the children. Some of them are experiencing the grief that comes as they realize the great need on the ground here, contrasted with the great resources we have in our world.

Our time constraints only allowed us to stay a short hour, as we were so far up in mountains and had to return. Driving back I couldn’t help but reflect on the project there in Pitseng and the great work they are doing. It gives me hope that our Bana Project will indeed one day reach the whole of Lesotho.

And it was a decidedly fun time chasing and racing my brother the 3 hours back to Mazenod as he drove one of the 4WD pickups and I drove the other on the ‘wrong side’ of the road. Oh, by the way, you shift a manual transmission with your Left hand and the blinker is on the Right! I had accused him on the way in of driving like a Basotho, but I think he could say the same about me. Something about this place….

I’m off to the post office and hopefully find the team who promised to come get me sometime later this afternoon. Want to get out of town before 3 PM work traffic begins.

But that might change…

If I was making up a story, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have come up with a story like this. The reason I’m so sure is because I’ve been making up stories and then telling them to unsuspecting people for years and I’ve never been able to come close to telling one as good as this. Maybe that’s because it’s real, almost too real…

I’m talking about the story found in Luke 24:13-35 of the two disciples walking back to Emmaus from Jerusalem. Now don’t get me wrong – it’s a great story… But if I was writing it, it would be different. That probably tells you more about me than about my writing skills, but here’s why I say that.

The story is about one of those “in-between” times that I don’t really like to tell people about in my own life. You know those times… between beginning and end, between starting college and graduation, between disappointment and what we’re certain will be a tragic ending… between “Oh, boy, this is gonna be great!” and “What the heck was I thinking?!”

Like these two walking to Emmaus, the between times seem to be filled with doubt, uncertainty and questions. Crushed with the evidence of our relentless circumstances, belief just fades away…. As Traylor Lovvorn says it, “…isn’t this where we live most of the time? Our experiences and circumstances have rocked our world and left us reeling with questions and doubt. We struggle hearing the whisper of God’s promises over the blaring fog-horn of our reality.”

As Donald Miller says it, we’re living in Act 2, that length of time between the relatively short story of our birth (Act 1) and the even shorter story of our death (Act 3).

Scripture is full of story after story of people living in Act 2, “In-between”…

• Abraham is told that his descendants will be like the sand on the seashore, yet he is without child in his old age. When they finally have their miracle baby, God tells Abraham to kill the boy.
• Jacob has to work 7 years for his wife Rachel, only to discover he actually married her sister. He then has to work 7 more years for the woman he loves.
• Joseph is sold into slavery and forgotten in prison for 14 years before he is exalted to second-in-command over Egypt.
• Moses kills an Egyptian and flees from Pharaoh. Later, he returns to Egypt and frees God’s people from slavery, yet they wander for 40 years in the wilderness.
• God promises His people a “land flowing with milk and honey” and 8 out of 10 spies bring back a report that there is no way they can prevail.
• For hundreds of years, prophet after prophet tells of a coming Messiah who will deliver God’s people and for hundreds of years, the people wait. [1]

Even Jesus had some “between” days… culminating in Gethsemane… but I’ll get to that in a moment. Let’s return to this story.

Like all great stories, there is room in this one for imagination. Here are two disciples, probably men. Having been to Africa, I like to think it is two guys, holding hands in a serious discussion. If that’s too weird for you – toss it. It doesn’t matter – but it is a common scene in the Middle East and African countries.

There is also humor in the story, and a twist… When these two sad guys ask him, “Are you a visitor and do not know the things that have just happened here,” Jesus responds, “What things?” [Later, he pretends to be going on further than they, and has to be persuaded to come into their home…]

And then Jesus, the protagonist of the entire Bible, comes into this scene and talks about himself in the third person, walking them through the narrative of their lives.

There’s another thing about this story – and it is a great story – we’re not even sure who the two guys are. Yes, I know Cleopas is mentioned, but then in verse 34 it says Simon. Maybe it was Cleopas AND Simon, I don’t know…. But couldn’t the writer have told us this? Why the ambiguity?

As a storyteller myself, I start to wonder… maybe this story is not about the two disciples. Maybe the story is about Jesus.

And there’s the problem.

You see, the real reason I wouldn’t have written a story like this is a much darker confession – I’m not in it. You see, I like to know these things. I like to find myself in the story – no, let me be honest… I like the story to be about me.

You see, if I was writing this story, I would have been the main character. I would have recognized Jesus immediately.

But because I tend “to misinterpret my story”, as Traylor Lovvorn says, because we all tend to misinterpret our stories, especially the “between” times, maybe Jesus knew we needed a different narrative.

It’s true, we often don’t even recognize the main character of our story even when He comes and walks with us. And yet He does – He comes and walks with us through the “between” times, through the disappointment, and the story becomes His story.

Let me ask you this. What if this between time that we find ourselves in right now – today, even – was a story about Jesus instead of us? What if this fill-in-the-blank circumstance, this time was not about us? What if this time in your life was not your story? I can hear the objections already, “What do you mean it’s not about me?”

Really. What if this was a story about Jesus instead of me? Would this change my perspective?

Jesus faced his own “between” times, and we know hardly anything about the 18 years or so between the time he stayed behind in Jerusalem and hung out in the temple, and the beginning of his ministry when he was 30 years old. But we do know about Gethsemane….

Gethsemane by Patricia Sprinkle

Gethsemane is not always a garden.

It may be a dusty road that dead ends
at a coliseum full of lions
Or a soggy pillow in solitary darkness.

Gethsemane is the grotto of the silent scream
where an excruciating future
is frantically re-examined
for non-existent loopholes,
and the only rational prayer of faith is
“I need a miracle, God! Get me out of here!”

But Gethsemane is a miracle-free zone,
never depicted on posters
at God’s recruiting stations.

It is the crucible where sweat turns to blood
and fear wrestles faith
until we collapse in submission
and gasp, “Okay. Whatever you say.”

Gethsemane is faith’s ultimate classroom,
Where we learn the hardest lesson of all:
It is not all about me.
It is all about You.

- Patricia Sprinkle, April 2010 Presbyterians Today.