“Whoever comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37 NIV).

I love singing the new contemporary worship songs at our church, but whenever I get alone with God those aren’t the songs that fill my mind. In my times of private devotion it’s those old hymns that begin to ring in my head.

On a recent study retreat I was having trouble hearing from God. I felt a profound sense of worthlessness come over me. As I considered the calling on my life, I suggested to God that he might look for someone else, someone with more ability to do my job.

As I wallowed in self pity and doubt, I began to hum a tune, “Just as I am without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me…” I sensed God’s presence. He spoke to me through those old lyrics. My calling doesn’t depend on my ability. God will supply the ability if I will just come as I am.

The lyrics to “Just As I Am” were written by an invalid named Charlotte Eliott in 1835. After a dark night wrestling with feelings of uselessness, she began to question even the reality of her spiritual life. She awoke the next morning and taking pen and paper in hand, she poured out her heart. She wrote words aimed at conquering the spiritual warfare in her soul. She reminded herself that God had called her to come just as she was.

One hundred years later, in 1934, a young man named Billy went forward at a revival led by the evangelist Mordecai Ham. The altar call song was “Just As I Am.” The Rev. Graham was so marked by this song that it became the standard decision song for all his crusades. He even named his autobiography after it.

It’s amazing how a young crippled girl’s obedience continues to affect us today. Living to 82 years of age, she never let her disability keep her from following God. She wrote over 150 hymns.

Singing the lyrics to “Just As I Am” and letting them encourage our souls, we are reminded that God has never been interested in our ability.

What He asks for is our availability.

“When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, ‘Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!’ For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken… Then Jesus said to Simon, ‘Don’t be afraid; from now on you will catch men.’ So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him” (Luke 5:8-11 NIV).

I never cared much for fishing. Too much sitting and waiting. But my uncle Basil liked to fish and I loved being with him. So, we often went fishing.

My father died when I was eight, so as a boy I was always looking for a father figure to fill that vacuum. My mother’s younger brother was one of those men. He would show up at my house driving his Olds 442 and invite me to go for a ride.

“Let’s go fishing!” My uncle Basil would say as we got in his car.

“Sure!” I’d exclaim. I didn’t care what we did as long as we were together.

As we pulled away, he’d say, “Hey, grab second for me.” while pointing at his chrome, four-in-the-floor, Hurst shifter.

I’d grab the shifter with both hands and pull back, watching his clutch foot for the next gear changes. Uncle Basil always needed my help for gear changes. I never knew how he managed without me.

If I got a little loose with one of the changes, he’d smile and say, “If you can’t find ’em, grind ’em.”

“Now, look in the the glove box and pull out that new Doc Watson 8-track and pop it in. You’re going to love this guy. He can really pick.” He’d say when we got the car up to cruising speed. Uncle Basil always had music he wanted me to listen to with him. He loved the blues. Even though I was more of a rock and roll guy, I learned to love the blues too.

Sometimes we’d take our guitars when we went fishing. While sitting on an old boat dock at the lake with our lines in the water, we’d talk and pick. He taught me my first song on the guitar, “The Wildwood Flower.”

I loved my uncle Basil and he loved hunting, fishing, telling stories, listening to music, playing guitar and driving Oldsmobiles. Being with him I learned to love those things too.

I doubt that Simon Peter cared much for the sinners that Jesus loved. He was a fisherman. He loved the sea and catching fish. It was his life. Then Jesus got in his boat. Peter recognized his own sin and Jesus loved him anyway. He invited Peter to a new kind of fishing, fishing for men. I’m sure Peter had no idea what he was getting himself into, but he knew one thing, he wanted to be with Jesus. So, he left everything and followed him. Peter learned to love what Jesus loved.

I must confess that I find the “lost” hard to love. They are sinners after all. They’re not very lovable, but Jesus loves them. I don’t know why, but when I was a sinner, He loved me too.

It’s funny how when you love being with someone, when you start loving them, you start loving what they love.

Jesus loves sinners and now He is making me love them too…

…especially if they love fishing, Doc Watson, and an Olds 442.

“He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from shore. Then he sat down and taught the people from the boat” (Luke 5:3 NIV).

I starting loving boats and motorcycles at a very early age. To me, they represented more than transportation. They were shortcuts to adventure. And I loved adventure! I guess I’ve always been an adrenaline junky.

My uncles and cousins all started getting bikes when I was around 10 years old. I really wanted one of my own. When I was 11, my Aunt Theda bought a used Honda 70 and gave it to me and my brother Barry. Man, we loved that bike! We finally had a bike that belonged to us. You wouldn’t believe the stories I could tell (and the scars I could show) that happened to us on that little Honda.

My love of motocycles led to a friendship with a school mate named Bruce. I started hanging out with him when I was around 14 years old. By that time I had a Honda 125. Bruce had a beast of a bike, a Yamaha 250 motocross. His bike scared me and I liked it! He lived at South Holston Lake and had several boats too. When we weren’t riding bikes, we were riding boats. Sometimes we’d take two boats out at a time. We’d use his dad’s inboard to make a big wake and take turns on his little fiberglass two-seater jumping over the wake. Now, I dreamed of owning a boat too.

Fast forward a decade or so and I’m married, we’ve got three kids, a dog, a house in Roanoke (that I needed to sell), a house in Wilson, a waterfront house at Smith Mountain Lake, and a boat. As a child I had dreamed of owning these things and now I did. But what surprised me is that I really wasn’t happy. I felt like these things owned me, instead of me owning them (Can you say “three mortgages!”?).

Owning these things wasn’t turning out to be the adventure I’d dreamed. I was working 70 hours a week for a large corporation and barely had time to do more than pay the bills. Plus, I knew that God had called me to the ministry and I wasn’t doing it. That was one adventure that was just too scary even for me. Why? Because it looked like that I’d have to let go of my belongings in order to do it.

Finally, my misery became greater than my fear. I had to do something. It was time to begin another kind of adventure, one that wasn’t about having more belongings, but touching more human beings. God was calling me to the most thrilling ride of my life!

So, I quit my corporate job. I cashed out my 401K. Sold my corporate stocks and options. I even sold my lake house (I held on to it as long as I could, but it had to go too). I used the money to support my family while attending seminary for three years.

But I held on to the boat. I kept it in the garage. We took it out on the Tar River Reservoir from time to time. We enjoyed it.

By then, God had called us to plant Wilson Community Church and the church needed a van to haul equipment. We had attracted all these young families and money was tight. One day, as I stood looking at my Bayliner boat sitting in the garage, I could see that the new adventure required a van more than a boat. So, we sold the boat and bought a van for the church. That 1982 Chevy Beauville wasn’t much to look at, but we lovingly named her “Bertha” and used her to carry sound equipment and nursery equipment for years.

This year, God has us setting out on another adventure. He has miraculously opened the door for our church to “own” a property valued at more than 2.2 million dollars for the amazing amount of $285,000.00. This shouldn’t be possible! The owners turned down several offers for much more in the past couple of years. But for some crazy (God) reason, they’ve accepted our offer!

Recently, I felt drawn out to my garage again… looking. This time I see my Honda VT1100 Shadow sitting there. I haven’t had it long. But I know what God is thinking.

“Will let me use it? Will you trust Me again with your belongings?” I sense Him ask.

My answer? You can find it on craigslist.com. Just look for a big, black, chromed out Honda cruiser for sale in Wilson, NC. You’ll find a photo of my bike sitting in front of the garage. I’m learning to let go of stuff more quickly. I don’t want to let my belongings cause me to miss the real adventure.

So, I’m giving it back to God. He needs it for a downpayment on His building. He’s calling me to push out and go deep. I don’t need to own a boat or a motorcycle to feel the splash on my face and the wind in my hair. God has called me to a greater adventure and I’m having the ride of my life!

What belongs to you? If you really listen, you’ll hear Jesus ask to use it. It’s amazing what he can do with a boat, or some fishes, or bread, or a donkey, or … a motorcycle.

“Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Christ” (Acts 5:42 NIV).

The first house my wife and I lived in was on wheels. Convinced that we should be owners and not renters, we bought a 12×55 mobile home when we were first married. We couldn’t afford land, so we rented a lot in a trailer park (I guess we were renters after all). I still remember our address: Lot #17.

I’ve attached a photo here of Robin standing in the door, excited about our first snow, in our first house, in our first year of marriage (I thought you might appreciate the idea of snow during this hot summer we’re having).

We called this home for three years, but our children never knew this house. When we were expecting our firstborn, we sold our mobile home and bought a bigger place. We needed room for a nursery!

Through the years, the Combs clan has moved from house to house. Sometimes it was because we were expanding our family and sometimes because of a job transfer. Looking back, the only house that feels like home, is the one that we’re living in now. A house doesn’t make a home, love does. I know it’s a cliche, but home “is” where the heart is.

Our WCC church family started out in my living room. We met there for three months before launching our first Sunday worship service at Forest Hill Middle School. We continued to meet at my home on Wednesday nights for the first two years of the church. When we finally moved all of our services to the school, some people got upset and left us. They had become attached to my house. They said they missed sitting in my living room and eating at my table. They said that we were getting too big and they didn’t know everybody now. They didn’t want a new house. My house was home to them.

But we knew it was time to move on. It was either cling to my little house and stop growing, or move to a bigger house and keep growing. So, we moved.

For years, when we passed FHMS, my daughter would see cars in the parking lot there during the week and ask, “Daddy, why are there people at our church?”

She didn’t understand that it was a school building. She thought it was our church.

For nearly 19 years we’ve rented space for our church family all over town. We’ve had parties, picnics, Bible studies, get-togethers, baptisms, weddings and funerals, all at places that we rented or borrowed.

We’ve been called the “Roadie Church” by other churches that have seen us set up sound equipment for citywide events. They marvel at our adaptability and faithfulness.

I guess it’s appropriate that a guy who started his family in a “mobile” home would launch a “mobile” church. From day one our church family has repeated the phrase, “The church is not the steeple, it’s the people.” It’s part of our DNA, we’re a church on the move.

Now, we’re looking at moving into a “movie” theatre. Don’t you think that’s just perfect! But some will worry about this change. There are many uncertainties. I’m praying that our church family fully embraces the idea of moving into this new house.

I really believe it’s time. Like the first century church that “never stopped” carrying the good news from “house to house,” we mustn’t stop either. We’ve carried the gospel from “house to house” all over Wilson for years. Now, it’s time to carry it to another house. A house that can accomodate our dreams for being a city church, located in the center of things, open seven days a week, and able to draw people that would never hear the gospel otherwise.

While a house doesn’t make a home, a family does need a house in which to live and grow. I believe it’s time for the WCC family to buy a house. And when we move in, let’s continually remind each other to “never stop” preaching the love of Jesus. That’s the only way to make any house a home.

“… continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose” (Philippians 2:12-13 NIV).

I’ve been trying to take better care of my health since turning 50. The last two years I’ve been pretty faithful in working out at the gym three days a week. It helps. I always feel better when I’m working out regularly. It’s amazing how expending energy makes me feel more energetic.

I actually joined the gym a couple of times before, but never really got into a workout routine. I joined and paid the monthly membership, but since I rarely went, I never saw any results. Too bad. Gym membership apparently isn’t enough. You actually have to go regularly and workout in order to see improvement.

I’ve done this before. I bought a workout bench and barbells. But after a furious couple of weeks of lifting, they ended up collecting dust in my garage. I’ve purchased booklets, plans, DVDs, equipment, etc. Nothing worked, until I started working it out.

God gave me my body. It has a heart and lungs. It has muscles (OK, not that well defined. But they’re there somewhere). He has given me all that I need for physical health. But I still have to “work out” what He has “worked in” me.

Spiritual health is not unlike this. Just as God gives us physical life, He is the only One who can make us alive spiritually. We cannot do this work. Only God can do the work of salvation in us. Only through His Son Jesus can we be born again spiritually.

Maybe you’ve joined a church and tried church membership. Maybe you’ve even paid your dues when the offering plate was passed. But it hasn’t worked for you. You still feel empty inside. You haven’t seen any spiritual results.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve never asked God to do His work of salvation in you. There’s nothing to “work out” unless God first “works in” us. Or perhaps God has begun that good work in you, but you’ve never worked it out by yielding every arena of your life to His control.

I want to be healthy physically, so I’m trying to work out more regularly. But even more importantly, I want to be healthy spiritually. I want to rely on God’s work within me and to submit myself more fully to Him, so that His inner work is “worked out” in my entire life.

We can be confident of God’s good work in our lives. He will finish what He started. Depending on His work in us, we can work out what He has worked in.