Green Pastures

Waiting...

2010-03-07T15:24:00.000-08:00

Looking at my last post, it has been about a YEAR since I've given this blog any attention at all. It was not without good reason... for just as I don't like to speak simply to hear my head rattle, I definitely don't like writing that way, either.

Not sure of ever having anything to write of much substance, I chose to take time away from this venue to simply be quiet. The past year has been a "dry season" for me, but not without a good harvest of thought and process.

In a couple of weeks, it will have been a year since writing consistently in this space. Coming back to it may help me navigate where I believe I am going. If you would like to join me... I'd welcome the company.

Ri$k

2009-03-21T03:44:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was a little guy I've not had much trouble being a saver. When I was given money as a gift, I typically resisted the burning in my pocket that cried out for discretionary spending. My Dad took care of that urging the day my allowance stopped when I was about 9 years old. Falling victim to the Ice Cream Man's 8-track tape's siren song yet again, I bought my last allowance funded baseball card/bubble gum packet after Dad's financial advisement was to do otherwise. Dad cut me off the family till that day and I never once again drew another dime of allowance money from his wallet. The irony now being that some of those very cards I bought then are now worth more individually than the sum total of all my allowances combined! I probably ought to sell even just one of those cards and give my Dad a really nice gift for the great lesson he taught me that day.

While I was always willing to save money for things I wanted from then on, some of that propensity for saving gave way to the lure of credit cards in later life. While I've never been held hostage by revolving credit, I have tended more toward a "buy it now, pay it off at the end of the month" mentality. That can be a little risky but to this day, barring any unforeseen circumstances, there is always satisfaction in seeing a zero balance on those accounts at the end of the month.

In more recent years, hitting mid-stride financially has afforded the opportunity at more risky financial ventures. Far, far from venture capitalist status, being able to roll just a few dollars into higher risk opportunities has been an interesting adventure. Not really a business section reader or a stock ticket watcher myself, I tend toward more spiritual interests. Consequently, I've left my higher risk investing to the hands and minds of trusted individuals who actually make their living risking other people's money. Monthly and quarterly statements have provided a thrilling kind of satisfaction in watching my money work for me. Until recent financial times... Now I watch with mouth gaping amazement and wonder if I'll ever see another "+" sign again?

Now the adage "the higher they rise, the harder they fall" seems to be the cry of the day. The higher the risk profile, apparently the deeper the subsequent losses. One advantage of being my current age is that I might have the fortunate opportunity of seeing those numbers bounce back in the next few years. For other more senior risk takers, those who ride the thrill induced side of investing, may not see "whoopee" numbers return again in their lifetime. I feel for those folks. I have thoughts of selling one of those cards to try and help one of them out... but there's not much of a market left for spectacular aged rookie cards these days either.

Risk always means the potential for loss. In the last year, the profile for my spiritual investing has been running at a relatively high clip. In my intentions to find God at deeping levels, He has led me to raise the bar in my relationships with others. In doing so, I've discovered a whole new level of risk. Any time we extend ourselves fully (or as fully as humanly possible at the time) there is risk involved. We risk giving something that may not come back, even in a lifetime or more.

Somewhere in the relationship markets of life we tend to anticipate a dollar-for-dollar return on our investments. We give "so much" to another individual and we expect "so much" (or maybe even more) in return. In some cases, we're not willing to go any deeper into our personal portfolios if we can't be sure we'll get a good return on our investment. But sometimes it just doesn't work out in a way that we get back what we give.

Tennyson once wrote, "I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost; Than never to have loved at all."

I have to wonder how many times Tennyson saw the bottom side of that investment portfolio? It only takes once to feel the pain. To love and to not have one's love returned in equal portion (nor even at all) is not a quick-market recovery. To fully invest in love's market means to lay it all on the line at considerable risk. To roll in that market, you have to be willing to go "all-in" and be willing to lay it all on the line.

Jesus invests in the same markets. "...who for the joy set before Him..."(Hebrews 12:2) is what is said of how Jesus endured the shame and pain of the cross. While it is perhaps easier to hear those words knowing that His suffering secured the redemption of any soul who is willing to accept Him as Savior, it is not easy to hear those words when we consider all those who simply reject what Christ has done for them -- those who perhaps will never accept His love. The price was paid no less for them. He risked it all first, even when we say "no thanks" and walk away.

I'm coming to realize the only way we can ever truly experience the fullest capacities of love is to risk it all for the sake of it. It is likely the greatest risk to give all you are and all you have to someone else. Too often we take much less aggressive risks to assure that at least we have something left to call our own when the bell sounds at the end of relational exchanges and trading -- even if we are rejected. But can we say we have fully loved when we keep something of ourselves out of the relational market?

To love like God loves is an all-in risk. We must chance risking with possibly no return on the investment. "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son..." That is the ultimate investment risk. For those who accept it, it is a risk we are eternally grateful He was willing to take.

We will do well when we are willing to risk loving the same way.

How I Feel

2009-02-27T02:11:00.000-08:00

I've prayed for as long as I can remember. Well into "mid-life" now (okay, more into it than I'd care to admit) I think back on my early days of prayer. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. God bless Mommy and Daddy and..." and so it would go. And so it goes?

I don't exactly remember when my prayers changed, but they did. My prayers became more direct, less rhythmical and likely less innocent. They were more "mature" to be sure, but left little room to speak praise to the Creator celebrating all the amazing things He has done, is doing or will do and even less room for Him to speak. Too often, my prayers rolled into instant requests ("petition" is the churchy word for it) -- as if I were peeling off some divine shopping list -- I would sit, sometimes kneel, rarely stand... to tell God everything I wanted but rarely, if ever, gave Him room to speak.

One day though I heard from Him. It wasn't necessarily a voice as classically defined, but He definitely spoke and our conversations changed again. Now while the words were the same, the movements were different, stronger, better, more passionate... filled with wonder and awe. Then... one day... we spoke differently, still. Rather than me telling God only what I wanted (knowing that He could -- and maybe would -- provide my request)... I told Him how I felt.

I waiting to hear from Him again... and I waited some more... and waited still. I waited so long I thought maybe He had forgotten me. I waited and wondered if my feelings had somehow offended Him. Then, one day He spoke again. It was not a "yes" or a "no" about something I wanted (or even needed)... God spoke about how I felt and He mentioned how He felt, too. The experience still brings tears to my eyes because it was so real and so personal. Sharing feelings between the two of us.

What is true about prayer I'm finding is true in some of the most important relationships in my life. I can hear what people want and I may even be fortunate to hear what they need. But how often do we share how we feel? Sharing feelings opens up the deepest places inside us. It lets someone into the chambers of self where we can be most afraid. Places we usually keep locked up and guarded. Rejecting what I want (or even need) is one thing. But rejecting how I feel, dismisses the very essence of who I am. It is scary to share how we feel.

You can tell me what you want and not go very deep with me. You can share what you need and we'll get closer once you trust I won't reject you for being honest. But tell me how you feel and we begin finding deep relationship. Share with me how you feel and we can experience unimaginable things!

Whether in prayer or in the most important relationships of life, it is important to share how we feel. God waits to share relationship - intimacy - with us at every level. There are at least a few people in life who want the same thing with you, but you've got to be willing to risk going there with them.

God loves you more than you can imagine. Some people in your life love you more than you can imagine, too. But if you don't trust them with how you really feel, how will you ever really be close?

Please... tell me how you feel.

Bumps

2009-02-19T17:18:00.000-08:00

I ride motorcycles. There is little about riding motorcycles that I don't like, but one thing I can do without are the "bumps." You know... the "bumps" in the road: speedbumps, uneven pavement, frost heave, or any other form of "bumps" -- I find completely annoying. Hit a frost heave at a significant clip and the "fun" really begins.

There are plenty of parallels between motorcycling and life. There are enough parallels that were I to include them all here, you'd be clicking to the next blog faster that you will anyway! But at the risk of having you jump in the passing lane and leave this entry behind, I'd like to offer a quick observation.

If "Life is a Highway" (as suggested by the lyrics of Tom Cochran and sung better (in my opinion) by Rascal Flatts) then it is going to have some bumps, too. And here is the paradox between life and motorcycling. While I generally "hate" the bumps on the bike, I am learning to embrace the bumps of life because the outcome is typically much more reliable than when I am riding.

Similar to riding though, it is always wise to cast your vision in life as far down the road as possible. But there are bumps in life we simply can't anticipate and even when we can anticipate them, what we choose to do with the disruption is a function of wisdom and maturity.

Today, a portion of my life hit a good sized bump and I realize I'm going to land on both wheels (though maybe not at the same time -- and when it is the front wheel hitting the ground first that's REALLY exciting). The thing I'm trying to remember is to keep the throttle on, adjust to the landing and just keep on riding. It's a bump... and that's life (and riding).

On Purpose

2009-01-16T06:58:00.001-08:00

As popular as Rick Warren's book, "The Purpose Driven Life" has become (I recently heard it has become the greatest selling book of all time other than the Bible) I wonder how many of us are really living "on purpose."

It seems from childhood we're oriented away from purposeful living. I can't imagine how many times I did something wrong and then tried to defend myself with the phrase, "But I didn't do it on purpose!" While that never seemed to get me off the hook of trouble, it may have been a telling sign of things to come.

To live "on purpose" is no easy thing. Consider Rick's book, and the accompanying Purpose Driven Journal, and Purpose Driven Daily Calendar, and the Purpose Driven Night Light (okay, I made that last one up...I think), the purpose of each of those resources is to help people live "on purpose." More than great marketing, the vast selection of "Purpose Driven" products indicates we need tools and resources to live on purpose. We need reminders to live "on purpose" and even if we are reminded to find our purpose and then live it... the bottom line is it requires a bunch of hard work to do it.

Life is much easier when lived simply on "cruise control" or "auto pilot." There is little thought required about what we've been or what we're becoming. But living on purpose requires a ton of effort and some much needed resources. One of the things we need to live on purpose is intimacy with the Creator (He is the One who ultimately knows what we're created to be). If we avoid intimacy with the One who made us, then it is much easier to avoid who we really are.

Living on purpose also demands personal integrity and honest self-evaluation. Those long stares in the mirror of self-reflection (even actually physically staring into a mirror long enough to deal with yourself is a powerful experience -- for more on this, see my blog entry on Sept. 22, 2008) can be a sobering. Not only taking the inevitable criticism from others, but inviting input from friends and trusted advisers is necessary to see ourselves for who we really are and to be more aware of who and what we're becoming.

To have those things in your life are as blessed as they are necessary and sometimes you have to go find them. I've not always been one who sought out critical input, but over the years I've seen myself move from resisting it to actually welcoming and inviting it. I have some of the best friends and confidants ever, who love me enough to be honest about what they see in me and are willing to walk with me toward being better. I have found space in my life that allows me to test who I'm becoming without rejection. All of those things are not only necessary for my life, they have been put there on purpose.

Though we all make too many mistakes, when we do make them, there is no need to say, "I didn't do it on purpose." Living a life "on purpose," we acknowledge our mistakes for what they are and then move on purposefully. Not everyone wants to allow us to do that. Some will hang our mistakes over us or never let them go. If that is the case, the burden falls to them to figure out their purpose, not to you. There is only one Judge and we can be assured, it isn't the person that won't let you forget your mistakes, especially those mistakes that were made when trying to live on purpose.

Every step we take, good or bad, is one step closer to a life lived on purpose. So keep moving along, my friend... we have lives to live, on purpose!

Resolute

2009-01-05T12:49:00.000-08:00

New Year's resolutions are highly overrated. Part of the reason is because far too often the burden of fulfilling the resolution falls solely to the individual making the resolution. We resolve on our own what should be or should do and then we are left to make the resolution a reality (often in isolation). Typically, the net result is failure within a matter of days, if not weeks and the guilt of a "broken resolution" is the remnant of great intentions.

I'm convinced "commitments" are a better path, especially commitments made in community (with other people). In a community of others we lean on their love and support not only to fulfill a commitment we've made, but we can actually utilize the community's input to discern what the commitment ought to be in the first place. Other people can see who we really are sometimes better than we see ourselves.

Left to myself, I'll too often make commitments (or resolutions, New Year's or otherwise) that are simply too comfortable or too easy to attain. For example, if I make a commitment to go to the gym and work out 4 days a week, but I'm already working out 3 days a week, that commitment isn't too big a stretch. Additionally, it won't make a HUGE difference in my physical conditioning (unless I'm an elite athlete) in that one day's absence or presence in the gym.

Relationally, spiritually, developmentally... we do the same thing. We take a path of "least resistance" in our personal development and then fall short of what we are fully capable of achieving. How many relationships (friendships, marriages, teams, etc.) stay "stuck" at an immature level because no one pushes for something greater? How many spiritual "giants" never grow into their potential because no one steps into their life and challenges them to greatness? How many skills or gifts go untapped because no one was invited (or had the courage to say something) to support them into reality? We need to be resolute toward something more than resolutions!

In community, a group of trusted people can offer input and challenge into life that will yield a HUGE difference in our becoming better people. Of course, trust is a HUGE factor in this process but the overall outcome offers more promise than simply making individual resolutions.

For Christ-followers, the addition of God's input in the process of discerning (through prayer, Scripture reading, meditation, fasting, etc.) can yield unimaginable results. What new commitment might be confirmed, supported and then realized into fruition if we shared our commitments with others?

This year, I've made a commitment to have "deeper and more meaningful relationship" with people God puts in my proximity. I have a group of people who, I trust and believe, will hold me accountable and help me make progress in that commitment. It isn't easy work, but that is all the more reason why it should occur in community.

Rather than "resolving to fail" like I have so many times in the past(some of us may have already "missed the mark" on this New Year's resolutions), perhaps we can "resolve to be resolute" and utilize our faith and our community to advance who we are as people. In community, we will watch ourselves and others grow and change as we become more of what we are capable of being.

Doing Life Together

2008-11-13T21:18:00.000-08:00

Thursday night is usually "small group" night at our house. Tonight was no exception.

Arriving with the fatigue of the day close on our heals, we gathered again tonight to spend a little time together, read God's word, share some laughs and perhaps a few tears, too.

What an amazing thing "community" is! 10 people (only eight present tonight) from such diverse backgrounds and experiences and yet, sharing one thing in common: Doing Life Together.

God lives in "community" (Read Genesis 1 closely and you'll find that God shares community even within Himself) and God has created us to live in community as well. Though silence and solitude have their place in our spiritual development, we are created as communal creatures (in God's image) and it is not surprising we need each other.

I am honored to be "doing life together" with the people in the group that meets at our house. They are an amazing gathering of people that can fill a room with laughter and tears in the same hour and I'm always the better for having been together! I hope and pray they are, too.

I also hope and pray you have people that you are "doing life together" with as well. Living in community is one of the great blessings of the human existence.

Between Want and Need

2008-11-04T00:30:00.000-08:00

Where is the line between "want" and "need?" It is a curious question to be sure.

Abraham Maslow effectively took a step toward the question when he developed his somewhat famous Hierarchy of Need. Maslow, a "humanist psychologist," principally believed in the potential of the human individual. He proposed that all human beings have ever-increasing opportunity to reach fuller potential within their being. Humanists seek the potential of being a "fully functioning" individual or as Maslow described it, a "self-actualized" person.

Often visually presented in the form of a pyramid or triangle, the most basic human needs represent the bottom level of the pyramid and these needs then graduate toward the top until the highest extent of the needs are fulfilled.

The most primitive of Maslow's needs are "physiological needs." These are biological needs consisting of oxygen, food, water and a relatively constant body temperature. These are the fundamental physical needs for sustaining life itself. These would come as first priority in a person's level of satisfaction. As someone who greatly dislikes being cold, I get this concept!

The next level involves "safety needs." When basic physiological needs are fulfilled and no longer control active thought or behavior, the needs for security are engaged. Adults have little awareness of their security needs until times of emergency or periods of extended distress or danger. Children on the other hand frequently display this need for security. That's why it is sometimes difficult to rid a child from their "blankie" or their "binky." Feelings of security are important.

With the physiological and safety needs fulfilled, an individual next seeks love, affection and belonging. Maslow suggested people will find some means to overcome feelings of loneliness and alienation. This involves both the giving and receiving of love and finding and/or providing a sense of belonging. This is why few people do well in extended isolation. We are creatures who are created in community (God in creation as Father, Son and Holy Spirit) and are meant for community.

Following the fulfillment of the first three, the need for esteem becomes prominent. Both self-esteem and affirmation from others helps establish self-respect and a personal sense of value. When these needs are not appropriately met, an individual may exhibit inferiority, weakness, worthlessness, helplessness or various other forms of dysfunction.

Finally, when all the foregoing needs are met, according to Maslow the needs for "self-actualization" are empowered. Maslow described "self-actualization" as a person's need to "be" and to "do" what they were created to be and do. A dancer "must" dance, a writer "must" write, or a musician "must" play. Without that opportunity, the individual becomes agitated or restless. They will sense something is lacking in their life. God creates all people "in His image" (Gen. 1:27) and gives them purpose, function and meaning. How we respond to that created "being" is displayed by the things we "do."

According to this theory, if something in the first four levels is "missing" in life, it can be relatively easy to determine what the "need" is. If someone is hungry, there are physical symptoms declaring the hunger (hmmm... my stomach just growled reminding me I skipped dinner earlier tonight). If someone is in danger, the mind and body will react accordingly ("fight" or "flight"). If someone is denied affirmation or blessings, it will appear in their general disposition or attitude. But things get much more difficult to define in the "self-actualized" needs.

Whether we adhere to Maslow's "Hierarchy of Need" theory or not, one thing stands to reason and Truth... in order to truly "be" who we are meant to be by God's design, we must be "authentic" about who we are.

A rich young man once came to Jesus declaring he was basically "self-actualized" (though, of course, Maslow hadn't quite yet arrived on the scene) according to the way he lived by the Law (see Mark 10:17-27). Jesus agreed that he was doing well with the whole human "doing" thing... but when Jesus told the rich young man to sell "everything" and give it to the poor and follow Him... the guy couldn't do it. Jesus words struck at the very heart of the guy's authenticity. The young man's "being" didn't match up to his "doing." The guy left Jesus a very "sad" and "rich" young man.

On the other hand, there was a very poor widow woman who came into the temple courts and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny. Calling His followers close to Him, Jesus said the widow had "put more into the treasury than all the other" people because she gave all she had to live on (Mark. 12:41-44). There was a woman who's "doing" match up with her "being" quite well.

Sometimes the line between "need" and "want" is quite thin. Even in our earthly relationships, we sometimes have difficulty finding the difference. A child really "needs" the attention of her parent and finds she isn't getting much of it. She will declare what she "wants" to ease the loss or attention or she'll act out negatively to find the attention she needs even though the bad behavior it isn't really what she wants.

A spouse really "needs" reassurance in their marriage that their spouse is wholly devoted to them, but they are only seem comfortable leaving hints at what they "want out of this relationship" rather than sitting down and confidently sharing what both really "need" from one another.

Yes, the line between "want" and "need" is sometimes thin indeed.

Perhaps the best way of finding our ourselves between our wants and our needs is to start with simply being purely authentic people. Maybe instead of hoping people will find out what we want, we need to be "authentic" enough with one another to simply confess what we "need." If you're cold, ask for a blanket. If you are scared, ask a good person for a hug. If you feel "left out" of everything, discover the company of a trusted person, and instead of waiting for them to read your mind, maybe you should simply invite them over to spend some time together.

If you are feeling lousy about yourself, ask someone you respect to remind you of how much God loves you and what a beautiful person you are because He made you just as He designed you. And if you are struggling with who God created you to be, talk with Him about it. When we come to God honestly and authentically, we discover amazing things about Him and about ourselves as well.

Do you want to comment? If so, I need to hear from you if you are willing to share.

Thirsty

2008-10-23T21:07:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been thirsty? I mean the kind of thirst that you remember like it was yesterday? We’ve all been thirsty, but do you remember that parched, thick tongued aching thirst that simply can’t be ignored? On a long hike turned bad (poor planning on my part) many years ago, I experienced the worst thirst of my life and will never forget it.Have you ever been thirsty? I mean the kind of thirst that you remember like it was yesterday? We’ve all been thirsty, but do you remember that parched, thick tongued aching thirst that simply can’t be ignored? On a long hike turned bad (poor planning on my part) many years ago, I experienced the worst thirst of my life and will never forget it.

Maybe you’re thirsty right now. Just the mere mention of water has you looking for the nearest drinking fountain or you’ve already abandoned your computer to go to the kitchen and retrieve a glass of ice cold water. That is not the kind of thirst I’m talking about. But, if you need to go and get some water now, please do. That’s fine, I’ll wait.

Welcome back. Tastes good, doesn’t it? Refreshing and welcomed, there is nothing like a good glass of water. Water happens to be my most frequent drink of choice. Trying to avoid the certain gains that come with sugar laden beverages, I drink water most of the time. It isn’t really something I even think much about anymore. A tall, clear glass of water can’t be beat for refreshment and life. I heard recently that to be healthy, the average person should consume 2 ½ quarts of water per day. I’ve got that down, easily!

Nothing is much worse than being really thirsty and getting only a little water. You need a 44-ouncer… and you only get a Dixie cup. Oh, it might give you the minimum you need to survive, but being satisfied is nowhere to be found. It might even be torture to be truly thirsty and only get enough to tease the need.

Jesus once told a woman, “whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:14). Hearing what Jesus said, the woman replied, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty.” After that, they never spoke again about water. In fact, she left the water jar she was carrying and ran to tell everyone in her town that she had found the Christ (4:29).

On that hike, a friend and I found a little spring at a rocky outcropping. It was very shallow and I only hoped it was pure enough to not make me sick, but I had to have water. I cleared a little pool, let some of the sediment and sticks settle and then just stuck my face in the ground and started sucking up water as fast as I could. Spitting out the sticks and maybe a bug or two, I didn’t get enough water, but I did get some.

A lot of us are spiritually thirsty enough that we are looking for water. Sometimes we’re content with only sticking our face in the ground and spitting out the sticks. But it’s not enough. Jesus invites us to drink from a well that rises up from within us. It is a “Spirit” thing… and can easily be ignored, while we thirst nonetheless. Religion (or simply going through the motions of faith) won’t get you there. Like trying to satisfy real thirst with a little cup, religion might tease your spirit, but you will never be fully satisfied. Only true relationship with Jesus will ever satisfy the deep thirst within.

Are you thirsty? Ask Jesus for some real water…

Last Meow

2008-10-21T08:54:00.001-07:00

Over 15 years ago I received that phone call from my wife. Not the that phone call... she'd already given me that news 5 months earlier! Pregnant with our second child, my wife found twin Manx/Himalayan kittens that "had to have a home." Somehow, between the strategic planning of mother (grandmother) and adult daughter, our family wound up with a second cat (we'd already had "Bunkley" for over six years)!

Our first daughter had already named them both before I could even get home that day. Ours would be named "Tiger" and Nanny's cat would be named "Buddy." When I did arrive home, I had to admit the little guys were cute and being bred with nothing more than a mere "nub" for a tail made them rather unique. Though I never fully adored Tiger, I didn't mind him too much either.

Later, dogs would come and go through the mix of animals in our house... but Tiger was a standard feature who seemed built to last. Now, well over 15 years old, he'd recently begun to have trouble remembering what a cat box is for and after virtually destroying the blessed aroma of our master bedroom suite (not to mention the need to now replace carpet that is less than four years old)... it was time for him to go! Any volunteers? Nope... Dad gets the nod!

Therefore, last Friday was not an easy day. I checked online for the closest and most reasonably priced facility to help with our "problem." I've done this routine before (Bunkley's departure was quite emotional for us, too), so it was nothing new to me. But it is never easy to "determine" the final day of a pet's life. Whether chronically ill or just too old to function properly, it is hard to hear the "last meow."

Since that day last Friday, I've been thinking much about what it must be like for God to watch the "clock" of our lives tick down to that last second. A friend just lost her step dad yesterday. He fought aggressive cancer for 8 months and passed from this life yesterday at noon. October 20, 2008 was his last day in this place. God knew it all along. The man's family painfully saw it coming and began adjusting to that last breath the moment it was breathed, but still it is understandably difficult for them.

I wonder if it is as difficult for God to watch that life clock tick down for someone as it is for us? "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be" (Psalm 139:16). Even as I write this blog, "Chole" the stray Bichie-Poo (Bichon Poodle mix) we found running behind a friends house a few months ago is laying asleep on my lap, content beyond all apparent measure. We do love our pets, don't we?

God loves His children, too. But when we advance beyond this life to one which is better by far (Phil 1:23) surely it is better for all of us. Perhaps it is even for God! Maybe that remedies some of the pain that is left behind in this place and for those of us who have to wait a while longer. I simply don't know...

Our house is still recovering from Tiger's misfortune (both aromatically and emotionally). It was weird to decide "today" was the day and that reality still lingers in my mind -- we had to choose what day that would be. It makes me appreciate the Creator all the more... He is amazing and His wisdom to know the "whens and wheres" of our existence is something for which I must bow and give praise.

Fragile

2008-09-22T00:24:00.000-07:00

Not much really scares me. At my age that may sound a bit adolescent, but I don't mean it that way. You'll appreciate that I've always been a "thrill seeking" kind of personality. Adventure sports have always had a strange allure that somehow always seems to draw me in. For me, risk has always been part of the reward. I would not suggest I go looking expressly for danger but when it presents itself, backing down does not tend to be high on my list of choices.

I've had my share of "close calls" and walked away from more than I deserved. I've never even been seriously hurt by any of these adventures and would just as soon keep it that way. Some might say if you haven't been seriously hurt by my age, you're probably not going hard enough. I'd challenge that philosophy. Wisdom is often the greater of valor without compromising the adventure. Nevertheless, speed is addictive, heights enthralling, depth and pressure challenging, balance captivating... the list goes on for the things that capture my attention and spirit. And I wonder why...

Lately I've been facing an adventure unlike many before. I've been venturing into the depths of who I really am. Taking that second or third glance in the mirror some mornings to see past the day's beard and the baggy eyelids. Do you ever look deeply into your own eyes? Try it sometime... but don't allow yourself to escape too easily. If you stand there long enough, you'll begin to see and hear things that might look a bit dangerous. Your tendency will likely be to "cut and run," but (if anyone else is in the room, they may think you're weird, but that is part of the fun) I'd encourage you to stick it out a while. We'd rather not be "posers" now, would we?

It is ironic, but perhaps those who seek the greatest earthly risks and thrills are really the ones most fragile. One would think it to be the thick skinned, the fool-hearty, the rambunctious who chase dangerous things, but it may just be the opposite. The thinnest crystal resonates the finest tones, but it is also most fragile.

The other day my thoughts journeyed to the "edge" of me. Asking oneself, " Of what am I most afraid?" can be a sobering question. In one of those elongated mirrored stare downs, it hit me. "I'm most afraid of me." I'm afraid of having to face the very things I'm most capable of doling out to others. Rejection, abject loss, betrayal... and that's just in the first few blinks of self-reflection. What if I really got serious about this adventure? What then would I find?

Riding at high speeds, skimming down the face of waves, climbing rocky faces, swishing down slopes, diving down deep all require certain measures of confidence in one's own abilities. We trust our training and our experience to see us through even the most risky circumstances. But what happens when we run headlong into ourselves... where we can't simply twist the throttle or balance our way through it or reach down deep for that extra bit of "something" we need. What happens when it is simply us and the mirror... what then?

What about the occasions we have to trust someone else with the "real" us? What about when we are willing to put our heart into the hands of another (not speaking of a physician here, though the principle may equally apply)? What about when we give up looking out for ourselves first and our own interests first and finally sacrifice everything we have for the benefit of someone else? Let's talk about risk! And what exactly are we afraid of? Well... need I really say?

I realized the other day that the thing I'm most afraid of happening to me is the very thing I'm most often guilty of doing or being. It is that great "inadequacy" all of us face eventually if we stare long enough into that mirror. It is the exposure of true self and personal circumspection. Sometimes we cover all that up with makeup or some other disguise. Maybe a brash demeanor or an excessively quiet and reserved disposition or... maybe even "thrill" seeking? Either way... if we look long enough, we'll find that "thing" in all of us... and its fragile.

Maybe the greatest thrill is when we're willing to lay our lives out there and allow our greatest vulnerabilities to be realized and exposed. This is the place where speed can't move us away fast enough, climbing never takes us high enough out of its reach, diving is never deep enough to fully submerge from it... because we simply can't escape who we really are deep down inside.

So let me encourage you... take a couple extra moments and look into that mirror... step to the "edge" of you... and "go big, or don't go at all." You may be fragile like me, but the real adventure will have just begun!

Frogs, Part Deux

2008-08-20T01:24:00.000-07:00

2:54am

It is not far too unusual to be awakened in the middle of the night (early morning). It has happened to me for years. As something almost like unto a spiritual ritual, at times I receive these "promptings" long before the sun rises from its transversed orbital slumber. It is a call to get out of bed and find the One thing calling me out of my sleepy state.

Far too often, I've been encountered in ways that are much more valuable than sleep, so when the prompting arises, I typically heed the call. This morning was no exception.

The apparent destination was the back patio. Didn't know why I was being called there in particular, but I was. Rain has been consistently falling since midnight, flashes of lightning and peels of thunder rolling in the distance. On the patio, things are peaceful and still. Seeing the evening's work of those pesky (and somewhat messy) spiders refracting light from a distant source. The frogs are quiet tonight. All is quite still save the droplets of rain falling gently all around.

You know when you have that feeling you're being watched? I've had that sensation several times through the years, especially in these earliest of morning calls... but typically the presence of the "watcher" is from somewhere "above." This morning, the watching didn't seem closer in proximity, just different in vantage point. This watcher was close and just behind me rather than from "above."

Pulling up a patio chair from the table and simply awaiting any word from my Inviter, I sat still, enjoying one of the coolest night's in many, many weeks. Several minutes passed... then tens of minutes... and still nothing. Being very aware of the presence of Senor Mosquito... as I am something akin to Filet Mignon to that member of the blood-sucking predator family... I was beginning to wonder about tonight's call.

Thinking a spot on the patio floor was another arachnid who had turned attention away from web building to human inspecting, I quickly went to turn on the patio light. Humorously finding the impending "spidy" to merely be a "spotty" on the patio floor, I turned to go flip the light back off. That's when the sense of my being watched became abundantly present to my awareness.

Enter "Kermit" the tree frog.

He'd been enjoying a "frog's eye view" of me since I arriving. There, suctioned onto the window just above my left shoulder, was the coolest looking guy... making his way toward one of those more juicy spiders (more power to him on that menu choice -- dine away, my friend -- one less for me to deal with!!!).

The view audience changing roles, he became the viewee now, while I the viewer.

What an amazing creature! How I wish I could just hang on a plane of glass by my toes (think of the party entertainment that would be!). Throat "clucking" about twice per second, eyes blinking, legs stretching while making his way higher up the glass (and closer to the eight-legged main course in this earliest of breakfasts). What an amazing creature!

Though he made no noise, was this my early morning caller? I sat and watched... wondered... what is the message, Sir? Perhaps none other than mutual appreciation and a sense that we're both being watched by One who is responsible for us both being here. Regardless of the hour, the condition of the weather, whether hungry or full... there is One who is always aware... always watching... always providing... always caring...

Regardless of the time of day or night... there is One who loves us all and He may even wake you up in the middle of the night, just to let you know. Just be watchful for the messenger.

You, my friend, are deeply loved, all the way down to your suction-cupped toes.

Frog Praise

2008-08-15T21:41:00.000-07:00

The rains have been heavy the past 24 hours or so and the frogs are singing a mighty chorus tonight.

The house where I live is situated in a place where we tend to have quite a few frogs during the spring and summer. The little critters have been especially plentiful this year, though we've not had a bunch of rain until the last couple of days. I am curious how these guys make it in the world. I far too frequently, for my comfort anyway (especially if I was one of them) find squashed and dried frog vestiges up and down our street. Not long ago, we had one smashed paper thin in our driveway and I began the inquiring as to which driver in our household was the accused. Turns out, it was a guest! Grace, extended.

I've always been a fan of frogs, though I've likely not been the best host to them. When I was a kid, growing up in Southern California, we had a significant population of really small frogs in our yard. I used to catch these little amphibians in pickle jars the Pop of the "mom and pop market" would give me (Midway Market was it's actual name... though I don't know from where-to-where it was midway) . I was careful to poke holes in the top of the jar and put stuff in there I thought the frogs would like to eat... a few ants, a piece of lettuce and whatever vegetables I thought I could coax off my dinner plate without my parents getting mad. Far too often, those little guys met the same fate as the old croaker in the driveway. I still mourn... slightly.

I've noticed the ones at my house now are a fairly stout breed. I was mowing a couple months ago and the grass was a bit higher than normal and I clipped one of my little friends (unwittingly, of course. I've made many a mowing detour to make peace with my four-legged friends). Everything was in tact in the palm-sized body, but there was a good gash on his head and the left "landing gear" was a bit afoul. Bummed... (I can't speak for how the frog felt, though I'm guessing no better than me), I helped him down to the pond. After the initial shock of getting whacked with a 21" Husqvarna 6.5 HP side-throw/mulcher, he was actually moving pretty good. I saw him to the waters edge and he (seemingly appreciatively) dove in. (I really hope it didn't sting too badly...).

Frogs, not the most beautiful dudes around (though allegedly finding company with a beautiful princess has dramatic affect) are nice to have around. The are great on fighting the insect pest population and have a great influence on a dog's saliva production when teased by the canine crowd (apparently no lasting problems here, but it's weird to watch your dog foam at the mouth for about 20 minutes after licking Mr. Toad -- great entertainment around our house, let me tell you).

The frog crowd doesn't always get the best press, either. Egypt, under Pharaoh, had a tough go of it with frogs when God chose to send a little message via the "rippit-ing" messengers. Eventually, Pharaoh summoned Moses to ask God to take the frogs away. Moses prayed and God relented... and a lot of frogs died that day, too (Exodus 8:1-15) and the smell was something to be reckoned with.

Tonight... they don't smell at my house. They are just croaking out a great symphony of frog noises. A while back, it was driving me a bit crazy hearing them every night and I've noticed they get even more actively loud after a good rain. So tonight it dawned on me that maybe that's when their most happy. Maybe after a good rain the bugs are plumper and their skin is a bit wetter and life is good in the pond! So... tonight I'm just a bit more at peace with the frogs... and now hearing their songs as a gesture of frog praise rather than an annoyance.

What nature sounds have you noticed lately? Want to share what you've heard?

We're listening... me and the frogs.

Pace

2008-08-05T22:07:00.000-07:00

Arrogance to my previous understanding once meant only calling excessive attention to one's self. Self aggrandizing speech and behaviors were easy marks to see arrogance in myself and in others around me. Outright bragging, brazen attention mongering, excessive vocalizations, "bling" demonstrations and label consciousness were all living proof of arrogance running a muck in my life. Strangely enough, even dashes of false humility pulled aggressively at my flimsy disguise attempting to shield pride and selfish motive from a discerning eye all to no avail.

Humility is rarely well impersonated.

Something about growing older and either admitting freely (or having it forced upon you) that you're "not all that" anymore (or perhaps never were) is a sobering road to what we can hope is eventually true and honest humility. There was something about Jesus that was simply and naturally "humble." Though He would have every reason to call attention to Himself, He didn't. He directed attention to others, their needs, their desires and He served others to perfection (see Philippians 2:1-11).

In time, the sincere Christ-follower can't escape this quality in Jesus and begins leaving behind the trappings of earthly attention grabbing. Taking credit for the successes, stepping to the front of attention, sitting in the seat of honor, warming to the sound of one's own name (or voice) being favorably spoken all eventually lose their alluring charm in the presence of Jesus. It perhaps becomes a little easier to give up the choicest morsels of life for the sake of others, too, eventually in time. But there are always alluring ways true humility eludes us. One such way has recently surfaced in my own quest to be more like Jesus.

Currently my life is running at an incredible pace. If I chose to do so, I could literally work 23 hours a day and would still have something left to do at the end of each day! Many others with whom I currently serve are in similar positions. We are all busy and working hard, for a cause in which we firmly believe and hold dear, and there always seems to be more we could be doing. Herein lies the challenge to true humility.

Having run several weeks now with little time taken to lap up some good personal nourishment from God's word and having spent few moments (let alone hours) in the kind of prayer that truly listens more than it speaks, it dawned on me just how arrogant I have been behaving! Continuing to run at this pace, without quietly being in the presence of God makes a gross assumption of pride and arrogance!

Now, I've not necessarily resorted back to the old behaviors of calling attention to myself (though I do believe those temptations are never really very far away from my potential) but I have fallen into a cyclical trap of behaving as if I can actually thrive and serve well without spending quiet, reflective, restorative time at the feet of the One whom self-defined humility (that would be, Jesus).

Thinking (or behaving) as if we can do "anything" on our own as a Christ-follower... is arrogant.

In John 15:5, Jesus said His followers can't do anything (really worth anything) apart from Him. So what is it inside of me that would behave as if I could? Especially when I know better...I can only conclude it to be arrogance.

Though Jesus had every reason (and perhaps every opportunity) to rely upon self-sufficiency, He didn't. Mark's gospel records that "very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed" (1:35). The text also records that Simon and his companions came looking for Jesus and told Him, "Everyone is looking for you!" And Jesus took off in another direction... (1:36-37).

If "everyone were looking for me" (and I was sure they weren't all out to get me) I'd probably run toward them and be pleased my company was so requested! There is something destructively attractive about being "in the middle of it all," isn't there? Even Jesus didn't stay "in the middle of it all" all the time. He was very conscious of the pace of life.

I have about concluded that "pace" in life can be an addictive agent. We arrogant types become quite enamored with ringing cell phones, pinging calendar warnings and the sound of our excuses for why we were "a little late" to our 2:00 meeting. Pace is addictive (especially rapid pace apparently is) and when we succumb to it, we are taking ourselves much too seriously.

Every time I don't take time for God...I am arrogant.

I'm trying to gain a new grip on this latest expression of arrogance in my life. More recently, I've been trying to equate time in God's Word and time in serious "listening" prayer as important (if not more so) as breathe and food (because likely they are).

In recent years I've learn how to "pick up the pace" on my life and now I'm trying to "find the grace" of "being still and knowing..." (Psalm 46:10) ... I'm not "all that"... never was... never will be.

And you?

Expect Delays

2008-07-28T17:53:00.000-07:00

Have you noticed how often people tell you "the way its gonna be" and then it simply doesn't turn out that way?

The other night I was riding home from the office on the tollway I typically use to get home. I'm way past thinking about how much I pay in tolls each day to ride on that highway because the road surface is so superior to anything else in the area and being one of the least used roadways in northeast Dallas... it is worth every dime to me to enjoy it on a motorcycle! Anyway... the tollway features the kind of electronic roadway information signs that inform drivers of detours or delays. These are the same kind of signs that told Steve Martin's character in "L.A. Story" all about life and love. Anyway...

On the way home the other night I was traveling from much farther west than I normally do and I saw one of these signs that I typically don't see on my daily commute. On this day, the message informed all eastbound traffic to "Expect Delays Ahead."

As a motorcyclist, I appreciate any helpful information that can assist me in keeping the playing field "even" against the big "cages" (cars). Seeing the sign "Expect Delays Ahead," I backed off the throttle a bit and covered the brakes waiting for things to really bind up in traffic delays (accidents, unexpected road work, whatever...). Mile after mile proved not only to show no evidence of delays, but there wasn't even the slightest bit of slowing. Finally... after over half my commute was completed, I finally just "cracked" the throttle and let it fly completely unencumbered by traffic or delays!

So much for "intelligent" road signs!

Which reminds me of how many times I've heard people "tell me the way it's gonna be" with regard to particular situations and circumstances in life and as a result... I've eased off the throttle... covered the brakes... and then waited for the "worst" to come. I can't count how many times the prediction hasn't come true.

This happens all around us in life all the time... work, school, church, friends... have you ever noticed it? "We are never going to get this project in on time." "This test is going to be the worst ever! "This church is really gonna be in trouble now!" "I don't think our friendship can ever be the same again."

We've all heard it before, haven't we?

More often than not we choose to believe it, too. Sometimes we simply give too much credibility to the message because we assume the "source" can't be wrong. (In the Steve Martin movie, it wasn't anyway). Strangely enough, when things don't go as badly as everyone else said it would, we're surprised that things turned out as well as they did!

I wonder if there is another way?

Within reason (I'm not going to start blowing through red lights or anything...), I'm choosing more and more to assume the better and then be surprised if things don't go well. It seems inherently reasonable for Christ-followers to expect things to go well, even when things are rough or life takes an unpredictable turn for the worse. I think of some things Jesus said like, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age" (Matt. 28:20) or "You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it" (John 14:14) Or other scriptures that suggest things like God works for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to His good purpose (Romans 8:28).

So, the next time you see the signs that point to "delays ahead" what are you going to do?

Objectification

2008-07-22T14:51:00.001-07:00

I'm off to the gym in a few minutes... trying to get back into an abandoned fitness routine that though once had me in relatively good shape, but now has now left its weighty mark on my mid-section. Funny how age can catch you!

While I'm at the gym, I'm going to have my ear buds in listening to any number of artists in my "workout" playlist. That will take care of the auditory sensors available to me, but the "eyes" will still be available and Rob Bell has me thinking again about how subtle "lust" can be. I dove back into his book, Sex God (yes, the title is provocative) and he has again reminded me how brutally carnal we humans can be.

I'd like to think that with my thickening mid-section and not being the "body" I once was physically, that maybe, just maybe, I'm at least becoming more of the Christ-follower I long to be on the inside. But that is always up for grabs by our own assessments and by another's observation, I suppose. But for the past several years, I've really been working at seeing people with more righteous eyes.

Jesus talked about if a man even "looks at a woman lustfully" he has already committed adultery with her in his heart." Bell suggests that we are all "sexy" people because we long to be "connected" emotionally, spiritually (and physically) to the One who created us and, consequently, to each other. Of course, there are appropriate ways in which we are to be connected to one another, but when people "lust" and/or "act out" according to lust we circumvent the connectedness we are supposed to have for something much less. When we merely condescend to flesh, we are simply treating each other as nothing more than objects.

A girl gets stares at the gym... shoot, a guy may get stares back... but what does that have to do with the "real" person inside? Objectification allows us to merely treat each other as objects rather than beautifully created beings... created in the image of God. And so much is lost in the process -- though our culture thinks it is all good and all gain.

Now... I've got my ear phones... but my eyes will be exposed. So, God, let me see all the people in the gym tonight with Your eyes... as real people... real beings... created in Your image... and may You glory in what You see!

The Big of it All

2008-07-19T21:40:00.000-07:00

Most people I know are basically goal oriented folks. We want a "win" and we want to know when we've "won" it. Now I don't know if that is simply the kinds of personalities I gravitate toward or what, but my hunch is that most of us live with some expectation of "life achievements" and realized "goals." It seems so common (at least to me) that we don't even give any alternative viewpoint much thought. Someone who isn't "goal oriented" is often considered "lazy" or "unmotivated."

Watch ESPN for more than 10 minutes and you'll see that "goal orientation" saturates the world of sports. "We can have a great season, but if we don't get to the championship game, does it really matter?" "So & So had a lifetime ERA of...." "If she wins this tournament, her name will be added to the list of greats!" The quotes run ad infinitum.

I've been wondering lately if maybe goal orientation is a little "off-kilter" with God's way of looking at things. Studying the life of Abraham, I've always thought of him as "Father Abraham... from whom God's people come." That is ultimately what God promised him, but in this round of study recently, I've been considering more how he got there. Besides God's calling on his life, of course, what was it that really "drove" him to be the "great" Abraham? Belief comes into play as the New Testament recounts his life. Belief was credited as righteousness. But lately I've been thinking how that fits into the whole picture.

Like all of us, Abraham's life journey with God had it's "ups and downs." There were times Abraham chose wisely and waiting on God's plan and there were other times when he got out ahead of God and ill consequences followed. Which brings me to think of things a bit differently.

What if the really "big" part of life is in how we live the "little" things as opposed to being so set on the "big" things? Could we begin to see our lives as a series of "little" daily events of faithfulness, belief, obedience, trust, honesty, sincerity, etc.? What might be the result? Sometimes I get so fixated on the "big of it all" I miss the daily things that make me truly available (or not) for God's plan. Maybe the "little" things are really the "big" things and the "big" things are... just details?

It would perhaps make for boring television to see how great athletes got to where they are for the "big win" (hours of practice, study, diet, rest, etc.) but in a life journey with God, maybe that is precisely the point!

Your thoughts?

Reflections

2008-07-16T14:20:00.000-07:00

Raising kids is an amazing proposition. Generally we willfully step into these shoes, at times by accident and occasionally we walk in them by force. I've heard 80+ year old parents say of their 60+ year old children, "You're never done being a parent." How true that is!

Overall, partnering with my wife to raise our two daughters has been an amazingly joyful experience. People tell us we have great kids. We accept the compliment and whisper a prayer that people will always see our kids this way and that things will keep going well for us and for them. I remember my mother telling me with some frequency, "The way people see you is a reflection of how they see your father and me." That has always stuck with me. I believe it did leave me with a sense of preventative "guilt," but I guess it also somewhat guided my behavioral choices.

Recently, as my own kids navigate life and choices, I find another helpful angle of reflection. When my kids make hurtful choices, I have to deal with those choices as a parent and the reflection I'm concerned about in helping them is the reflection I see of the choices I made at their age staring back at me in their behavior now. Painfully staring right back at me, I might add.

At the time, I knew some of the choices I made as a kid hurt me when I chose them. I knew they hurt my parents when they found out about those choices (and perhaps they would have been hurt even more if they had found out about other choices). I realize some of my choices even caused damage to how people saw me and my parents. But now, looking into my own kid's choices and seeing myself... that is a new level of hurt I've not experienced before. I find it fascinating that there is still pain associated with some of the choices I made growing up... a foggy, abstract mirrored reflection of the choices I made so long ago.

As parents, we protect our kids. Early on it is protection from dangers in the "outside world" and we protect from all the injuries that can be levied against them. As they grow a bit older, we guard ourselves as parents and hopefully protect them from our own neglect and missed parenting opportunities. But keeping them from hurting themselves at any age is down-right difficult, if not impossible.

I remember teaching both my kids how to ride a bike. Walking behind with my hand on the seat... then running along side... then letting go... then running closely behind... then standing and then finally, only watching from a distance (this is why bicycle training is meant for younger parents, I'm convinced!)... it was inevitable they would eventually fall, scrape a knee and come crying for Mommy and Daddy. And they did.

Teenage scrapes, adult child falls... don't necessarily show up on the surface. Sometimes the injuries are really deep and take a while to surface. When they do... reflection may be the best cure for the pain.

I find letting my own self-inflicted pain and the pain it caused others come back to the surface may be a suitable salve for aiding the hurts and pains of my own growing kids as their choices hurt themselves and others. It is reflection of a different kind. Letting the pain come back to the surface helps me see redemption from a new point of view. It allows me to at least see some good come from what was once so painfully bad.

Life gets messy... sometimes we get hurt (and we certainly hurt others) living it. But when the pain of the past potentially offers healing for the present, that may be a reflection worth making.

Your thoughts?

Potential

2008-07-09T23:15:00.000-07:00

It's late, I'm tired and I'm also so wired there is no way I'm going to find sleep anytime soon. I get this way at least once per week, especially after teaching or facilitating a group of Christ followers. There is something about the energy both expended and received in those contexts that stirs one's soul making the body hard to sedate and the mind difficult to rest.

Tonight, the "buzz" is more a product of having spent 5 hours with a truly amazing group of people. Male, female, relatively old and relatively young, assorted degrees of education and a bunch of life experience thrown in for good measure... we all engaged in something that is truly fascinating: potential.

As cursed as it is blessed, "potential" is one of the most amazing things I can think of. Back in the late 70's, I sketched a design idea on a cocktail napkin and showed it to a professional friend. His comment as he gazed at my sketch was something along the lines of, "Wow, that has a lot of potential!" Full of the sounds of "potential," I walked out of the restaurant feeling pretty good about my idea. I left the napkin on the table.

I never did anything with the idea. About two years later, I saw my idea roll down a street. A guy named Phil Baechler had developed the "Jogging Stroller" and within a few months of his prototype, the idea of a jogging stroller was everywhere! Potential? Yeah, I guess!

Now, I don't suggest that I was the first to ever venture onto that idea, nor do I pretend to think that someone found that napkin sketch of mine and made something of it. That would be a bit too self-assuming. Instead, my issue is with the whole concept of "potential." How many great ideas, sketches, concepts, paradigms have had great "potential" but never "got off the cocktail table" because of the limitation of the humans involved? Either an individual's lack of will or drive to execute the tasks necessary to reach the realization of potential or a group's inability to build enough community and cooperation within itself to get the job done, has likely been the bane of a bunch of "potential."

We live in an amazing age. This laptop I'm using is a contemporary icon of "potential" fulfilled (and continuing to be fulfilled, I might add). Quite likely, as I write these words there is some "techno-genius" lying awake in bed - or sitting at her desk in these wee hours of the morning swimming in the wispy thoughts of the potential of her idea as she tries to figure out a way to "make it happen."

In Genesis 11, laptop "potential" took the form of a tall tower made of bricks baked to a new level of firmness (instead of stones) with tar (instead of mortar). I'm guessing this new design had significant potential because the Lord chose to confuse the common language of the people doing the building because this was "only the beginning of what they will do. They will be able to do anything they want" (11:6).

Tonight, I met with a group of people whose talents and individual gifts are impressive. Some possess qualities that are truly remarkable. And together, tonight we began looking at the "bricks" and the "microchips" that could be the very building blocks of something with more potential than any of us have ever experienced before. Oh... the potential!

While all that potential was being expressed, we also had to lament some of the lost potential we've all experienced along the way. Many, if not all of us in the room, owned varying levels of lost potential. Some were ideas that never made it off the table top, others were moments of responsibility lost and confessions of neglect. The weight of the moment was palpable, uncomfortable and both corporately and individually indicting...and yet... right there in the middle of it all... there was this thing called "potential"... hovering like the nexus of new things to come.

What will take this group to another level? We all took comfort in something that is eternally true: "God can do anything" (Luke 1:37). Now that, has potential!

What potential are you waiting to experience? How might God fit into that plan? Does it help you to know "God can do anything?"

Adopted

2008-07-01T15:52:00.000-07:00

Sitting around a friend's pool one Sunday evening not too long ago, my wife noticed something moving from under our friend's back fence. Seconds later, a little black puppy dog nose reappeared and poked its way further under the fence. Knowing my friend's garage was open and the side door to the backyard also standing wide open, I whistled out to the "little black nose."

Almost instantly, as if she'd done it a thousand times, a little dog came trotting across the pool deck with a rather desperate and dismayed look on her face. She was just a tiny little thing possibly no more than 6 months old. As I sat in my chair reading the Rolling Stone article on The Eagles comeback tour, the little dog made her way over to me first placing her right front paw on my leg. Instinctively, I reached down, picked up the toothpick thin bodied dog and placed her in my lap. I kept reading...

Within seconds she was asleep, but I was beginning to get strong whiffs of this little canine urchin. Clearly she had never been combed, let alone groomed. By the looks of her face, I was guessing a breeding of Bichon Frise with possibly an ounce of Poodle. Her face was sweet, but her hair rivaled the likes of any dreadlocks I'd ever seen! She smelled of things so foul I won't write of them here... but within a couple minutes, she was fast asleep in my lap.

When it was time for grilling some meat, I sat her down on the ground and she and our friend's dog got along quite nicely. After eating a great meal together, my friend's wife asked, "What are you going to do with this dog?" The first thing I thought was to give her a bath. When done with that she smelled all the better, her hair was all the worse! Next she suggested, "Why don't you try grooming her?" And the fun began...

Valium could not have given this dog a better sense of calm. Standing on the picnic table for nearly 3 hours, this little puppy let me cut all her matted hair off her snip by snip until only her face was left to be tended. She didn't look like much (I'd never cut anyone's hair before, let alone a dog's), but she looked a lot better. Then came the pivotal question... "What next?" my friends asked.

My wife is normally a big dog lover... but for some reason this time she was running the other way! But by now, this puppy wasn't moving from my side. As if she'd taken out an ad on Ownerfinder.com, this puppy had found her match! Forget the video interviews, phone messages or a first date... she was ready to move in!

Long story short, we took her home, named her "Chloe" and now you'd think she owns the joint! She's been with us for seven weeks now and it feels like she's always been around. Constantly vying for a dominant position among the other animals (another Bichon and a Manx cat named "Tiger"). She approaches any human being who sits still for more than 2 minutes, she has become a joy (and a minor pain) to the Greenhouse.

We looked for "Lost & Found" signs and none ever appeared. We had her professionally groomed and now, if she ever even had original owners, they'd never recognize her. She's put on about 1.5 pounds (which is a bunch when you only weigh 7 pounds) and is beginning to act less and less like a puppy. No doubt, she has found a home and we've found a new addition to our family

I think there is a blog "lesson" in there somewhere... Sometimes we get abused, neglected or left to ourselves. And the evil one doesn't care much if we run free, get dirty, injured or just plain die. But then Jesus takes us in... pulls off the ticks (so to speak)... cleans us up (spiritually washed in His blood)... grooms us after His nature (much better than I did with a pair of scissors)... and gives us a good home, a good name, and a life filled with love.

Chole has had a few "accidents" around the house since we've taken her in. She's adopted her former pattern of behavior on a few occasions and bolted down the street through a neglected front door. She pesters the longtime canine resident Max (an 8-year-old Bichon) to no end and makes the cat mad more often than not... but she's also fun to watch run across the yard, she tilts her head in that innocent way little puppies do as if they are trying to figure something out for the first time, she's cuddles like no other dog we've ever shared life with, and makes our whole home a more interesting place to live.

I've found myself wondering... isn't this story familiar?

What do you think?

A Natural Disaster

2008-05-14T15:08:00.000-07:00

It certainly seems the longer I live, the fewer answers I have and the more questions I'm asking. Some of the events of the past week have generated no exception to this rule. I have questions...

Some 250,000 people lost their lives in the Myanmar (Burma) Typhoon just under a week ago and just a of couple days ago another 15,000 + (the death toll is still rising and could easily reach 30,000) lost their lives in a 7.9 magnitude earthquake in China. That is nearly 300,000 lives wiped off the face of the planet by two "natural" disasters in a matter of only a few minutes. As I continue watching and listening to news reports of the devastation and the difficulty of getting aid into those areas, I wonder about how "natural" it all this devastation really is.

Perhaps it is the "natural" part I take issue with the most. Of course, we understand the terminology to mean events attributed to "acts of nature" that are beyond human control. Sometimes they are referred to as "acts of God." And while God acting in this manner may awkwardly fit into our theologies (or God allowing these things to occur which has always challenged my understanding -- though I try to accept it with faith) it is another angle of the whole "natural" disaster concept that bothers me most.

Why do we as fellow human beings consider these "natural disasters" to be "natural", until they happen to us? Then, it seems, our consideration changes...

I was conversing with one individual about these two disasters recently and they were not even aware of either one of the above mentioned disasters. When I reacted with alarmed surprise, the person simply cast off my alarm with a shrug and the lite comment, "I don't watch the news too much." Realizing this might be a single isolated case, it still gave me pause to wonder about our understanding of "natural disasters." Something about that particular type of response seems all too "natural" to me. It is just strikingly too "natural" for disasters to be "natural" as long as they aren't in my backyard!

How human beings (especially in this day and age of global communication) can miss this kind of global information is disturbing to begin with. Should we not be even more increasingly aware of the greater world community in which we live? Because of the benefit of global communication, shouldn't we be better informed rather than less? Shouldn't our hearts be more strained by the graphic images of another nation's plight when we can view them in High Definition in our own "media rooms?" Something is wrong when we miss this kind of news and it is "un-natural" to not be moved in some way by it.

I believe that if something of similar magnitude occurred in the USA, we would not hear the end of it for months or maybe even years to come. The world news media would be consumed with the story! As a people, we would likely demand the world recognize that what is a "natural disaster" is quite "un-natural" from our point of view! Perhaps we would demand such attention simply because it happened to us (though I would not endorse such a thing)!

A case in point would be the coverage of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. At least 1,836 people lost their lives in Hurricane Katrina and in the subsequent floods, making it the deadliest U.S. hurricane since the 1928 Okeechobee Hurricane. Katrina was estimated to have been responsible for $81.2 billion in damage, making it the costliest natural disaster in U.S. history. To this day, when people speak of Katrina, there is a pall over the conversation. We are still in shock and admittedly scratch our heads over the devastation, but something still feels "un-natural" about it all, doesn't it? That may be because we have trouble dealing with it happening to us. But do we have the same concern for others?

What has struck me the past few days is that the near 300,000 people of Myanmar (Burma) and Sichuan, China who perished in those "natural disasters" are real people with real lives just like the nearly 2,000 people lost in Katrina and some of us don't even know about it! If there is anything that should be "un-natural" about any of these disasters, it should be that! The world is a really big place but we can know about these things!

When I think of what those people must be going through, my heart sickens and my spirit falls.
I believe I once comforted my own mind with the thought of "natural disasters" simply as being "natural." "Well..." I thought to myself, "these things happen. It is a thing of nature." Now... I'm having difficulty taking it so "naturally." Again... I have far more questions than I have answers!

I also used to hide behind the ignorance of these circumstances being in a "land far away." But the global media puts them into our living rooms. How can we "naturally" ignore such a thing?

Though I once reasoned it was an act of "nature" or "God" this time I'm finding less comfort in the thought. I still accept the essence of the disasters as being "natural." But what I am sensing is that my response must become increasingly more "un-natural." For the past days I have found myself feeling quite miserably inept at what I might do to even begin to address the pain the survivors of those two "natural disasters" are experiencing. What can one man do? But I feel something at a deep level that is either "un-natural" for me or perhaps is quite "natural" for all human beings. Again... more questions... what shall I do?

There may be some merit to simply acknowledging another's suffering and praying for their comfort. Yet, I feel there is more that can be done and I'm wondering for a way of expressing it. For now, I continue to pray and allow myself in some microscopic manner to feel "un-natural" about their "natural disaster."

We are one world. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers... each one is special and requires equal concern and care regardless of whether someone else knows about it or not. For now, I simply pray... God bless us, one and all, naturally.

Working At Rest

2008-05-07T18:55:00.000-07:00

Recently I’ve concluded that for most of us, rest isn’t easy. While I have fantasies of being reclined in a hammock tied between two palm trees with a gentle ocean breeze blowing across my body after a morning surf session and snacking on some open-fire-baked fresh fish (with a twist of lime squeezed over them) and something cold to drink, that vision is certainly far from my reality. Collapsing on a living room couch after a 12 -15 hour day, slamming a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, falling asleep to ESPN Sportscenter, then awaking to the sense (and smell) of my dog’s breath on my face is much too often closer to my current reality if the truth be told.

It is no secret most North Americans at life speed not too terribly far from “light speed.” Most live “run and gun offense” schedules and get quite defensive when anyone even begins to question or criticize their pace of life. We find a sense of twisted honor in electronic calendars that allow us to book our time into 15 minute (or less) intervals. Scheduling time can be as addictive as the latest popular street drug. There appears to be some certain sadistic satisfaction in "squeezing" someone into our tight schedules.

“Can we get together?” we’re asked. “I don’t know, let me check my schedule,” is the response. It is as if the schedule takes precedent (and is thus more important) than the relationship being sought.

As I think more about it, relationship may be a critical key to rest. The spouse who observes “We never have time for each other,” offers a powerful commentary on the quality of the relationship. As the two drift off to sleep, they know something is missing, but what will they do about it? Truth is, they don't have time for each other because they never make time for each other.

The seventh day of Creation was different from all the others. On the seventh day, the Creator chose to rest from the work of creating. There was an intentional “break in the action” and God rested. Not because He had to (it is difficult to conceive of the Omnipotent needing rest), but because He chose to rest. That day was deemed “blessed” and “holy” (Gen. 2:3) because on that day He rested. There is something “blessed” and “holy” about resting. Making time to take time is likely next to godliness.

The blessings of rest are not merely physical, either. There is something spiritually and emotionally restorative about making time to rest. But I’ve concluded rest isn’t easy. While too often we “rest” (physically) so that we can get back to work, perhaps we need to consider “working so that we can rest.” Maybe that was the whole point of the previous six days of creation? Maybe the Creator was establishing an environment in which He could rest and reside with His creation? The Creator worked Himself into the perfect place to rest! What a great concept!

We work hard at being busy and keeping tight schedules. Observing creation (even after all these years of human use (and abuse) it is clear the Creator worked hard at making everything, but He “worked” it into the opportunity to rest. Rest was significant enough for Him that He called it “blessed” and “holy.” Falling asleep on the couch with the taste of PBJ still in my mouth is likely not the quality of rest I should be seeking.

Well, I’ve got to get back to work, now. But I am resolved to “work harder at resting.” If you can find some time in your schedule, would you like to rest with me? Let's see if we can work it out! I may have some time on Friday...

Shoe Repair Place

2008-04-24T20:12:00.001-07:00

At this point in my life I've had the pleasure of living in quite a few different houses, in many different cities and several states. While there are vast differences in all of them, there are logically some similarities, too. I stumbled upon one this week somewhat unanticipated as I'd never really noticed it until now.

It could be said that I'm a "shoe" guy. I don't even really know exactly how many pairs of shoes I own (but I'm certainly no Imelda Marcos -- she owned 1060 pairs of shoes) but if all the specialty pairs were counted (softball, golf, cycling, motorcycling, hiking, running, cross-training, flip-flops, etc.) in addition to the usual dress and casual shoes, the number would total somewhere near 35 (I'm guessing).

One of the reasons I have so many shoes is that I'm easy on shoe wear and I tend to have them repaired rather than simply replace them (one good pair of Italian shoes can potentially last a lifetime (with repair) and if the style is "classic" enough, it is more affordable than frequently buying new shoes). Anyway... it was time this week to replace the heals on one of my favorite Italian pairs.

I noticed a shoe repair place not far from my office and took them in Tuesday. As I entered the shop I had what was close to an "out of body" experience. It seemed as if I was in a dozen places at once. Opening the door, the aroma of leather, rubber, glue and polish struck me with overwhelmingly familiarity. There was dust on every display surface; dozens of pairs dotted the front of the shop featuring tied tags with white string. A wall of wooden cubby holes hid dozens more shoes waiting to be picked up by their rightful owners. 15 or 20 year old, florescent light faded framed advertisements hung on the wall pitching shoe technology of generations gone by. A hand painted sign boasted "Elegant Shoe Repair -- since 1982." A yellowed cardboard sign warned, "Shoes left over 90 days will be sold for charges." A whining "bing-bong" sounded as I broke the electric light beam just inside the front door. For more than a brief moment, I was in the same shoe shop of a dozen times before in at least three different states... every one different... yet, every one the same! It was flat out weird, I'm telling you!

Almost predictably, as I walked to the counter for a few moments no one appeared. It seems that in every shoe repair shop I've ever patronized, no one is in the front of the store. Then, eventually a slightly hunched over shoe cobbler steps from between the split of dirty fabric drapes concealing the mysteries of the sole repair operations in the rear. This shop was clearly no exception!

Emerging from the back, a (literally) dusty old gentleman with an extremely thick accent asked "vat cun ah do fa you?" he inquired without the slightest of eye contact. "New heels, I believe," came my reply. "Nut like b'fore. No! No cut heal! Replace vit all rubba," was what I heard from the man with the gray tinged hair and completely ashen gray mustache. "Ven you vant dem?" was his final question. "How about Thursday?" I asked. "Good. $19.87" his economy of language insisted. And with that I paid the man.

On my way out the door he asked, "How much you pay for that bike?" (My sportbike was sitting just outside the front door). I hesitantly told him, though now uncomfortable at the thought that he might believe he should have charged even more for the new heels! "Too fast... (chuckle, chuckle)," was his commentary. I smiled. "Yeah... some think so," was all I could find to say.

Picking up the shoes today, it was the same "parallel universe" experience. Entering, the man was nowhere to be found. The whining "bing bong" sounded and eventually the old man emerged from behind the curtain again (I'm beginning to think shoe repair is top secret stuff). I would be fairly confident he was wearing the very same clothes as before, but I wouldn't hold him to it.

Handing him my claim ticket, he didn't even speak. Reaching into the third down from the far right cubby hole, he carefully pulled out my shoes. Placing them on the counter, he precisely unwrapped the tissue paper in which they were folded... as if they were brand new... and they looked it. "Good?" he simply inquired. "Perfect," came my response. A simple nod and slight closing of his eyes spoke volumes to me. "Another customer satisfied with his sole repair," surely must have been his thought.

If I've been in one shoe repair shop, I've been in what seems to be a thousand of them before. There is something pleasantly familiar about them all. I've concluded that fixing shoes must be a humble trade. All the shops look the same -- likely because they don't need to look any different. Each cobbler presents themselves with a quiet disposition, few spoken words and a little hunch in the back likely from years of leaning over the soles of thousands of people. Some soles are smelly, some mistreated, some cherished like a great pair of well worn jeans.

I learned from the shoe repair place that in many ways churches need to be somewhat similar. Though located all over the world, wearing different denominational names, established at different dates and though staffed with different titles... there should always be something reassuringly familiar about them. They are places where souls get fixed. Maybe, as "repair people," ministers don't even need to say much. Maybe ministers just need to do their work, not charge more than they should, be sure to wrap things up with care as if they were new (because they are in the mercy of God) and then simply be satisfied with a job well done.

I've got more shoes that need repair... I think I know where I'll be taking them, again. You see, I've been there before, lots of times, in lots of different places.

Robin's Egg Blue

2008-04-23T22:57:00.000-07:00

Today as I left the driveway, I captured a glimpse of one of nature's wonders... a Robin's egg. The beauty of a Robin's egg rests in its unique color -- namely, Robin's Egg Blue. (I think even Ralph Lauren has a paint that will match it perfectly, if you are so inclined).

This half-egg shell was lying broken side down, forming a little symmetrical dome just outside the double-car garage door. Had my daughter parked the car in the garage last night, it would have been crushed to pieces during the morning rush. But instead, I was blessed to take in a brief moment of God's glory.

Though initially disappointed it was only half an egg, I quickly realized what this meant... there was some young Robin now on the loose (well, at least hatched) and ready to face the next phase of life. Mrs. Robin is likely still bringing home the Gerber's Baby Worms for Junior and the early days of flight lessons are still to come, but I quickly realized I should rejoice that I'd only found half an egg. I wish the mom and her newborn all the best.

Sometimes life is fragile enough that we might think it nothing more strong than a mere shell. We take our shot, we get cracked and then wonder what life will be like after we try and pick up all the pieces. Though initially disappointed, the hope of faith is that there may be more good ahead -- even when it feels like we're all to pieces.

When we get our shell cracked, it is good to just hang out in the nest for a while and try to get over the initial trauma. The light is bright, we might feel a bit chilly, too. We may be a bit hungry and just wish someone else would take over for a while. But we must always remember we have comfort close by and eventually we're going to venture out and learn to fly (either truly for the first time, or we're going to fly better than we ever did before).

More than a matter of perspective, I believe this is a function of true reality when we have true authentic relationship with the Creator. Creator is mightier than any one of us, any group of us, and any... thing (quite frankly) that can stand between us and rare beauty.

I'm thankful I saw the egg this morning... it is a good reminder that things aren't always as they appear.

Longevity

2008-04-20T21:29:00.001-07:00

I just returned home from an area-wide worship experience featuring ministers of various sorts leading worship and reading scripture. The event actually had its roots in the church where I currently serve, but in recent years it has grown into something rather grand in scope and size, meeting in a local events center.

Tonight, as part of the event, brothers in the Lord were honored who have 50 or more years invested in preaching. Some of these men have over 70 years notched into their "preaching belt." That alone is impressive. I'm honored and blessed to know some of these men personally and count them as good friends and mentors. I can only hope to one day stand in their legacy.

Tonight, at a reception honoring these preachers of longevity, a friend and I had the opportunity to ask one of these legends what the secret to preaching so long is. Among the things he told us, one of the first was "Have thick skin." How true that is!

Preaching is no easy gig. I'm not saying it because at one time in my life I did it on a weekly basis and somehow want to revel in the "glory days." I'm saying it because it is true. Any time a mortal and sinful man stands to deliver a message that is eternal and morally perfect, somethings gotta give in the equation and usually it is the "skin" of the preacher.

We also asked one of these blessed brothers what its like to be in a room with so many "veteran" preachers. In all his wisdom and experience, he said, "Only one thing can describe a room full of preachers: A mess!" he said. I'd have to "Amen" that one, too. I loved his candor, his humor and his wise insight. This legendary preacher knew of which he spoke.

To stand in front of people laying your "guts" out there week in and week out takes its toll on body and spirit. I've made more mistakes in my ministry than I care to report here and I pray God's grace on every one of them, but as weekly listeners to preachers, we need to give our brothers who get up every week a little "grace," too.

Unless you've done it, you can't imagine the burden that resides in the position of preaching. Regardless of what "brand" of Christianity it is, preaching is a hard life. I've read the autobiographies of many a "done" preacher... and the "body count" is staggering of those who "used to preach, but don't any more." (In fact, I just recently finished an excellent book by a former female preacher who has left her post... her story is the same. So it is not gender specific, either).

Ministering to people is hard enough in itself. But preaching weekly is by far the hardest thing I've ever attempted to do in my life and the number of really great guys I know who don't do it anymore is a telling commentary on just what it can do to a person. If you have a good preacher in your life, please tell him what he means to your life.

How someone can have a record of 70+ years of preaching, is a testimony to the power and faithfulness of God and to their ability to wear "thick skin." Until you've stood in those brother's shoes, you might want to take a look at yourself, your character and whether you could stand for a single sermon (let alone 70 years worth) before casting a single disparity your preacher's way. I know some people who "think" they could do a better job, but given the chance, I wonder!

How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news (Rom. 10:15). My good brothers who are still preaching... sit a while and take a rest in the Lord! Thanks for what you do! May God continue to give you the strength to carry on!

Growing Up, Parents

2008-04-18T18:15:00.000-07:00

It would be great if children came with some kind of instruction manual or handy thumb indexed reference guide. But they don’t. It would be great if as parents we could look into the future and get a glimpse of what life holds for us as parents and for our children. But we can’t (and that might be a really good thing). Because if, as parents, we had some accurate sense of how much we would feel for our offspring and how deeply we would care, worry, pray, hope, fear, long for, enjoy and hurt over them… we might never venture into the realm of parenting at all. Investing that much into another human being is necessarily a risky proposition… eventually, somebody’s gonna get hurt!

Raising children simply isn’t easy! Never has there been a venture in my life for which I’ve worked so hard and in the very moment of working so hard at it realized I’m “not doing it right!” Is there ever a “right way” to be a parent? The mere fact that the parent/child interchange involves two independent human beings makes the relational equation so variable, the odds against doing it “right” are enormous.

Maybe part of what makes it so difficult is because the final product of parenting is so delayed. It’s not like making a nice cake and eating it a few hours later. The proof is in the pudding, as the old saying goes. But in parenting, there is little immediate gratification. Oh sure, there is the first recognizable smile from an infant. A toddler’s first unsolicited “Thank you” or “I love you” melting the parent’s heart. There is the first non-parent funded Christmas gift from the part-time employed adolescent or the profoundly simple “I’ll miss you” from a college-bound child. These are relatively immediate returns on the investment of parenting.

Parents knock themselves out for so long but the ultimate “final verdict” on how well they have done remains out for a long, long time. The investment of countless hours, days, weeks, years (truly a 24-7-365-lifetime proposition) may never be fully realized. This alone makes parenting one of the riskiest propositions in the human condition. Do we ever really do it right?

Giving space for your kids to grow up isn’t easy either. Being a parent ultimately means being vulnerable. A good parent allows themselves room to get hurt. Even for those who have really great relationship with their kids (of which I consider myself blessed to be one), there must be accommodation made to get your feelings dinged. It is all part of the process of growing up.

Parents often forget how hard growing up is. This may partially be due to the fact that as parents, we are still growing up. But as a child, especially as a teen, finding your way in the world isn’t easy. Trial and error is the course of the day. Nights are filled with sleepless insecurity, concern and curiosity as we try to discover “who am I, anyway?” Every morning is met with a different view in the bathroom mirror because we are changing so quickly. And as parents, we wonder why our child might not give us the attention we so deeply long for and are sometimes denied. As parents, we need to keep growing as our children do as well.

I wonder if the heavenly Father has a similar issue with us. Does he “get hurt” when we don’t respond in the manner He desires? (Genesis 6 indicates He can be “grieved” by our choices). In a sense, God invests eternity in us and our “return on His investment” is sometimes a long time coming. One thing I’m trying to remember as a parent is that God keeps on loving, keeps on supporting, keeps on giving, keeps on waiting for us to simply love Him as best we can. If anyone is doing parenting right, He is!

Spared

2008-04-10T04:45:00.000-07:00

Last night, one of the strongest spring storms I've ever seen in a while rolled through north Texas. I had been watching the radar all night (I'm sort of a meteorologic buff) and I could see the last line of the storms we've had nearly all week was going to be a powerful storm. There had already been tornado activity and wind damage in the west and it was clear this line was picking up steam as it rolled eastward.

The storm line hit our place around 4 am. There were periods of 3" per hour rain and strong winds. Turning the TV on to get up-to-the-minute reports, I heard reports of wind gusts around 75 mph. In Plano, one caller (who is way more meteorological geek than me - the guy has his own weather station at home) reported a wind gust at his house near 90 mph. That is some powerful non-tornado related wind!

As my wife and I lay in bed, she was anticipating a tornado. I wasn't as concerned because there were fewer signs in my opinion (though we were under a "warning" at one point). I did wonder however about all those people who were likely sleeping through the storm (my two kids never even bothered to come down stairs). Nighttime tornadoes have to be some of the most frightening natural disasters out there.

Everyone in our area got through it apparently unscathed. But my thoughts turned to the east, as I rolled over and tried to get some sleep. It always seems Louisiana and Arkansas take the brunt of our meteorologic "leftovers." And, as usual, things got me to thinking...

What should our response be for those circumstances when we personally are released from any burden, pain or suffering, but then the burden falls to someone else? What about the car in the intersection that gets hit immediately behind you? (That's actually happened to me a couple of times). Or the storm that passes over your house without damage but then blasts the people in the next town and does devastating damage? Or the investment you choose not to make at the last minute and those that do invest wind up losing everything? What should our response be?

Clearly being thankful is one appropriate response. There is nothing wrong with being thankful something tragic doesn't happen to you. But is there another, perhaps even more mature response available to us?

In a culture too often dominated by entitlement, we may not think much of it. "Boy, I'm sure glad that didn't happen to me," will be our response and we never take it a step further. We might even pray a prayer of thanksgiving that it wasn't us! Which is fine, overall. But, again, I'm just thinking out loud here...

Of course, compassion informs us of what to do in the event tragedy does strike the car immediately behind us or to offer aid to the person who loses everything in a bad investment, or whatever. But what should our response be otherwise? What should our response be before tragedy strikes the "other" guy?

Last night I whispered a prayer of "thanks" that the storm passed us without incident (other than a huge "lake" outside our back fence), but I was also praying that those eastward of us were also given the same grace we were. It was the only thing that seem reasonable to do in light of the blessing we had just received. Somehow, it didn't seem right to merely take our blessing and not do something to try and be helpful to the next guy down the storm front.

I guess what we're considering is proactive compassion. What are your thoughts?

Today

2008-04-08T15:27:00.000-07:00

As a result of what I would consider a "faulty" weather forecast, my day has been altered in manners now manifesting themselves in down-right resentment on my part. What are typically my most reliable sources for weather forecasting have totally let me down today and I'm flat-out hacked and bummed about it.

Early this morning the forecast called for 70% rain. 70%! In north Texas that's a pretty good shot at rain. In Phoenix, where I once lived, 70% are betting odds... you could take 70% to the bank!

Today, in the time between leaving the house and walking into my office (following morning coffee and a power bagel) that likelihood had dropped from 70% to 40%. After being in the office for about an hour, I saw approximately half a dozen drops fall outside my office window on a spot covering about 70% the size of a piece of notebook paper! Now, as I sit here at the laptop at the end of the work day, the sun is shining, a cool breeze is blowing and I think I just saw two love birds sunbathing in bikinis and sharing a bird bath in a puddle left over from last night's sprinkler run! (Okay...maybe I've been inside too long and had one too many cups of coffee!)

Rain? What rain?!?

Here is why I'm hacked! Because of that "fake" forecast, this is how my day was regretfully altered... Let me enumerate...

1) I neglected my daughter's exuberant joy and independent freedom by driving the car she usually takes to school, thus significantly altering her day and unilaterally cramping her style.

2) Driving a car meant I wasn't riding one of my beloved motorcycles (for avid motorcyclists... a day when you could ride and then you don't ride is like asking a duck to walk everywhere he needs to go. Sure, he can go that way, but swimming, trolling or flying are way better alternatives -- because you're built to do them)!

3) Because I drove the car, and consequently thought I would have to pick my daughter up from school when she was done, I turned down a ticket to the Rangers' Home Opener (baseball, for the lesser informed) with a good friend because I "would not be able to get back to school in time to pick up my daughter."(In my opinion, there is nothing much better in all of sports than "opening day" -- even for a mediocre team-- being at the ballpark live on opening day is the best! There is just something "spiritual" about the whole experience.

4) Finally, as it turned out, my daughter stayed after school with some fellow drama students and their director completely alleviating my need to provide transportation. So as it turns out, I could have gone to the game after all -- where it didn't rain there, either! (Is the whining apparent at this point?)

5) I still didn't get to ride my motorcycle (have I already mentioned this?)!

The only positive thing I can see from today's whole meteorological fiasco is that I actually was able to accomplish a lot of productive work today -- which I would not have done sitting in The Ballpark at Arlington -- but, boy, would a hot dog or two and a good ballgame with a friend have been great? Need I even answer?

At our church, we are currently looking at the Genesis account of the seven days of creation. In our study of this biblical text, one of the theological truths that has struck me is how Sovereign the Creator is over all that has been made. He is the One who separates light from darkness. He is the One who establishes the boundaries of the sea and the land. He is the One who creates all vegetation and all creatures simply by speaking a word... and it was so!

Yes, I will fully admit my complaint is petty and generally irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. But is is funny how the truth in "little" matters can bring clarity in the "big" ones, as well. I think of how often I kick against God's creative power when things don't go the way I think they should. Whether "big" or "small," God still has His hand on things and He is the great "Re-organizer" of life either when things don't go the way we think they should or when, frankly, we mess up. It is a good thing God is always Sovereign.

For the rest of the day, I'm going to merely try and enjoy the beauty just outside my office window and when I leave this moment, I'm going to step out into the remainder of the day believing it is "good" and that everything is just the way it ought to be. "And there was evening, and there was morning...", today!

One Shining Moment

2008-04-08T08:36:00.000-07:00

There was a time in my life when I once followed men’s college basketball fairly closely. It may have stemmed from the fact that my Alma Mater once made it to the Elite Eight shortly before my arrival at the school and there still were residual “Cal State, who?” t-shirts being worn on campus my first day there. I later had a class with one of the players from that team and the aura of legend was memorable just having him in the room.

These days, life does not permit me the time I once invested in following any sport, let alone college hoops. However, I still try to keep a casual eye alert to catch an occasional game here and there. Last night was one of those games I would have made room in my schedule to watch (though my viewing was preempted by playing in a softball game – I figure I need to keep playing sports while I can before all I have left to do is watch them). Last night was definitely a game worth watching.

Kansas and Memphis played for the NCAA National Championship in San Antonio, TX. 42,000 spectators crowded the arena to watch two very well matched teams go at it. Nearly 40 hard-fought games through the entire season brought these two teams to this “one shining moment” (a theme song by the same title brought tears to my eyes in years past at the close of the championship game’s broadcast – now, I don’t even know if they play the song anymore -- that's how disconnected I am to college ball).

Last night’s game was a thriller -- what little I heard on the radio and then caught on TV in the last few minutes. Memphis had it all but won with about four minutes to play, but nerves got the best of them. They repeatedly choked consecutive free-throw attempts and allowed Kansas back into the game. A last second three-pointer from Kansas sent the game into overtime. From that point on, the momentum shift was so severe, Memphis would not recover. For Kansas, their “one shining moment” was etched into the history books. For Memphis, it became a moment of loss they will painfully remember for a very long time.

Bill Self, the Kansas coach, is reported as telling his players in his final speech before the game, “You will remember this night for the remainder of your life – now go play like it.” Those young men certainly took him at his word. Self has been regarded as a "good coach." But after last night's victory, he may have opened the door to be considered a "great coach."

My thought this morning is what if we all lived our lives like we would remember each day for the remainder of our life? What if we entered each day with a mind toward making it a "day to remember?" Would it temper the choices we make (who wants to remember a mistake for the remainder of one’s life)? Would it cause us to work just a little bit harder? Would it inspire us to go an “extra mile” in kindness toward another? Would we be just a bit more patient with the next person we hope to influence for good? The possibilities are endless… aren't they?

For a while, I’m going to adopt Coach Self's philosophy and head into each day's “game” with the mind that I will remember it for the rest of my life. At the end of the day, hopefully God will get some glory for a “win” and in my own mind (and perhaps the mind of another) it will be “one shining moment.”

Wordless

2008-03-30T22:51:00.000-07:00

The church where I serve began a new series of sermons and Bible studies this morning in a series we are simply calling "Made." Taking a look at each of the creation days as they appear in the Genesis account, we're pursuing more the heart of God than a "scientific explanation" for how the world came into being.

This morning, during our time of worship together, we all watched a compilation video our Minister of Videography (yes, we really do have one of those -- and he has amazing gifts in the multi-media arena) created as a video feature following the morning's sermon. It was amazing!

Though set to a lyrical song, the visuals were simply stunning pictures of God's creation shot from all over the globe. What an amazing sight!!! The video images could have stood on their own, without any soundtrack (though the song was a great accompaniment). Vivid images from seemingly every point on the earth. It was refreshing to see the beauty of creation without having to dodge skyscrapers or airplanes or cellular phone towers. The scenes were absolutely breathtaking!!!

At the end of the video, I had an opportunity to speak to the church... and it really didn't feel appropriate to speak (though I did). I merely wanted to point to the screens and gesture something like "yeah... what that video just said is what I want to say, too."

I believe far too often, we use too many words to do things that can better be done without. Too many words to teach, too many words to preach, too many words to share, to counsel, to assist... whatever. So much of the time, words are like skyscrapers, airplanes and cellular phone towers. Words merely clog up the landscape and the airways and cause us all to miss the "forest for the trees" (so to speak).

Now, I'm not suggesting words are always inappropriate, but it does seem to me we live in a rather wordy generation. There are times it feels like I've overrun my allotment of words and it is barely half-way through the week!This past Saturday I spent the day much more quiet than usual. Several friends expressed concern and asked, "if I was okay?" You know, I was just tired of hearing myself talk. If I'm that tired of hearing me, I wonder how tired everyone else might be! (Just ask my kids, I'm confident they will have an opinion on this topic)!

The Bible affirms that "since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities -- his eternal power and divine nature -- have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made..." (Romans 1:20). That seems clear enough, doesn't it? I wonder if we might take a cue from nature. Creation doesn't have to use words to communicate God's power. Its presence is enough!

I'm resolving to look more at the creation and try to listen more to the "evidence" of God. If a video can speak so powerfully without words, imagine what a real tree might have to say! I'm also making a concerted effort at lowering my weekly "word count." While friends might think I'm sick, I might actually be moving toward a healthier existence!

Will you join me in listening? Sometimes the "wordless" speak volumes!

It's sad when your team loses

2008-03-22T19:28:00.000-07:00

It was a close game from beginning to end. The hot Celtics as guests in the house of the Mavericks, are on quite a winning streak. The Mavs needed the game more than the Beantown boys did. The Celtics are currently the hottest team in the NBA. Despite which team you wanted to win, everyone got their money's worth this past Thursday night. It was a good game seasoned with less than stellar officiating.

Though I'm not especially a Mav's fan (however, I'll root for them quicker than I once did), it was sad to watch my "team" lose. You see, my team lost somewhere in the middle of the third quarter.

She was dressed in less than a woman her age ought to be (in my opinion), but as a result had the attention of most males on our side of the arena as she made her way up the long steps from the high-dollar seats closest to the floor. She had a walk about her that definitely drew attention, but she is not what caught my eye this time. What caught my eye was her "guy" walking about 5 steps behind her. He had a look I will not forget for some time... It was the look on his face, watching all the other guys who chose to watch her, that captured my attention.

There wasn't a hint of discomfort or irritation on his part that many guys eyes left the game and watched her parade all the way up the steps. In fact, by the sly smile appearing on his face, he was clearly quite satisfied and pleased that so many other men were looking at her. Where an upright guy likely would have fought to defend the dignity of his lady by sending back stares of indignation, this guy swam in a sea of complete self-absorption. His own greed crested on top of waves and jeers from of his male counterparts all the way from section 105 to 109.

The moment crashed over me with force. I didn't need any cold water to shock me back into sane awareness. The moment was clear enough in itself. At times we human beings, but especially us guys, can be so self-centered and self-absorbed, we'll sell out the dignity of another person to feed the beast within us. The sale price goes even higher at the expense of our gentler female counterparts by way of sexual exploitation and general disregard for their intrinsic beauty and God-instilled goodness.

We men need to take a hard look at ourselves, especially when it comes to how we treat women.

At the risk of sounding even the slightest bit self-righteous, I confess I've been as guilty as the guy at the game (though maybe not in exactly the same way). But in the past couple years, I've really been giving prayerful attention to how feeding my own ego costs other people in the process. I hope I'm making progress, but for now I'll simply accept an increasing awareness of the transaction in my own life. It is not an easy thing to turn around, but when it so obviously happens right in front of you as it did at the Mavericks game the other night, it isn't that hard to miss.

As it was, the Mavericks lost to the Celtics 94-90. But that wasn't the big loss of the night. The bigger loss was one suffered by the human race. It was the loss of dignity the "all male team" suffered as one of us walked up the stairs in that arena somewhere in the middle of the third quarter. It's always sad when your team loses.

Beautiful People

2008-03-19T19:30:00.000-07:00

Early this morning, I reaffirmed something I have believed for a long time. People are beautiful.

Period. All of them… every single last one of them. Tall ones, short ones, fat, skinny, long haired, short haired, bald, young, old, intelligent, naïve, innocent, guilty, mean and nice… they are all beautiful. Even when people don’t act very beautiful, even when they are one’s very own enemy, they are still quite inherently beautiful. It is possible to so suppress inherent beauty that it may take divine eyes to see it clearly, but I do believe (perhaps without exception) there is some beauty in everyone.

Sitting alone in one of my favorite breakfast spots this morning, I find myself in a room full of people I’ve likely never seen before. They are definitely people I’ve never met before. And as I am wrapping up my morning time in the holy beauty of God’s word in print, I find myself overwhelmed by the beauty all around me. Today, I’m just concentrating on the beauty of humanity. To include flora, fauna and general atmospheric beauty would be almost too much to comprehend in one day.

Sure one guy is louder than all others in the restaurant and he has an annoying tendency to chew his half order of French toast with his mouth opened. I can nearly hear him smacking each bite from where I sit! One young woman clearly struggles with “problem skin” and seems self-conscious about it as she sits with another who, in spite of being quite physically attractive, may have dressed in the dark. (Now, I’m no fashion icon but even I can tell that outfit doesn’t work – but to her credit it is still dark outside so when we all leave, she might have second thoughts on why she chose that blouse). Another guy looks entirely miserable as he sits alone reading his paper. He is dressed almost identically to me and the way we are both positioned in the room, we make an interesting pair of “identical bookends” all the way down to our similarly shaped frameless reading glasses. (His hair is more gray than mine, but I'm catching up).

Tables of trios, duos and monos all sitting together… disconnected and yet, somehow strangely, completely and utterly linked together in beauty. It must be that whole “image of God” thing again (Gen. 1:27) showing me that there is much more that connects mankind than that which separates.

As people, we tend to concentrate more on what is distinctive about us rather than what is common and I wonder what the net effect of that is. We divide, subdivide and segregate on the subjective basis of our own choosing rather than uniting, reuniting and unifying on the basis of something beyond us -- something that is Perfectly Beautiful.

Even the worst of us must have something beautiful about us. God certainly must think so. Why else, while we were still His enemies, He would make us His friends (Rom. 5:10)? Unless, of course, we only become "beautiful" once we are made His friends.

Rather than sitting in a room full of strangers, perhaps I should rather look at it as sitting in a room full of potential acquaintances... or maybe even future friends? I love all my friends. I think they are all beautiful people, each in their own very special way. Maybe this is where I should begin with all people… find the beauty first (even if they are enemies, or their beauty is more difficult to immediately pinpoint) so that one day, perhaps, we will all be beautiful friends!

So, here's my prayer for the day: "God, show me the beautiful way you see all people and teach me to love them like you do -- beautifully."

How do you see the beauty people?

Computer Problems

2008-03-11T19:59:00.000-07:00

Are we simply too reliant on these machines? My "life" is in current turmoil because everywhere I go, I seem to be running into computer issues. In my work office every one on site is dealing with "connectivity issues." At home, my computer just "told" me that the browser I've been using for nearly two years, "wasn't my default browser!" "How could this be," I wondered. When I "reassured" my computer that it was my default browser, it proceeded to ELIMINATE two years worth of bookmarks! (I'm sure someone much more "techno" that me is reading this saying, "If you'd only done etc. etc. etc. then you could get all your bookmarks back." Well... I'm not that techno savvy and frankly, I'm just too mad!

I love my computer and all the stuff it can do, but I think I become much too reliant. Somewhere between pencil and paper and "all electronic" there is balance. I'm looking for it.

Haven't posted in over a month, but having to reestablish as many bookmarks as possible has brought me back again. Sorry this was a rant, but I do feel a little more at peace! Now... some quiet meditation, prayer and a good night's sleep... there's (thankfully) something I don't need a computer to assist in. Thank goodness!

Bold Squirrel

2008-02-06T23:33:00.000-08:00

In yesterday's driving rainstorm, while waiting for a traffic light a bold acrobatic squirrel bounds off a branch just on the edge of my field of vision. Free falling for several feet, he lands on what looks to be a 1,000,000 jigga-volt (whatever that is) electrical line running across the intersection above me. First somewhat cautious and then with increasing speed and grace, the little nut packer goes skating along the line some 20 feet above the traffic below. I am transfixed.

Praying for the light NOT to turn green (a change of pace for me, I'll confess) I'm hoping for a few more seconds to watch the rodent road show. Before my light can turn, bold squirrel is across the entire intersection and bounding down the street. It's rush hour and the squirrel is making better time than I am! I sit wishing I was as confident and cool.

Nervously, I wait for him to make one error and fall to a perilous doom or wind up fried fur with a side of smoke. Thankfully neither is the case as the light turns green. Rounding the corner, I watch bold squirrel leap off the line and disappear into the more natural habitat of another big tree.

Things I learned in 1 minute with a bold squirrel:

1) I need to be as confident in my God-given abilities as he is.
2) Adaptability is where its at, baby... sometimes you sit in trees, sometimes you run on the high wire.
3) Every once in a while you've got to get above the stuff to get a new perspective.
4) There's often more than one way to cross a street.
5) If I go bold, someone else may benefit from my boldness as well.
6) Sometimes you've just gotta get out and do your thing even if it is in the rain.
7) You never know, there just might be somebody watching when you least expect it.

My sincerest thanks to the bold squirrel and for taking me "to school." Lesson learned, I hope!

Honey

2008-01-21T18:10:00.000-08:00

For whatever reason, I have always loved honey. I can't explain why, other than from my early childhood, I hold memories of the "honey bear" dispenser we had in my childhood home. We used that bear so much, all of his painted facial features were long worn off and only his snout and little "bear (not beer) belly" identified him as a bear at all.

Part of what I love about honey is that it is natural. One can walk right up to a hive, if you dare to, and take a swipe (seems like Winnie the Pooh was something of an authority on the subject). You don't have to wait for the processing and all that... just grab some honey and go.

Largely under-rated in the sweetening community, I actually prefer honey to any other sweetener (natural or laboratory-animal-tested). Honey on cereal has to be one of the all time great eating experiences and given the choice between ice cream or cereal with honey, I'm choosing the cereal every time. Additionally, I'm such a fan of honey, that I'll actually take those little single honey packets, rip it open and just suck the honey right out of it. (Beware of a particularly famous fried chicken retailer that deceptively serves "100% honey syrup" for their flaky biscuits that isn't real honey... it is 100% honey flavored "goo").

There must be something to this whole honey thing. God has a tendency to reference honey quite a bit. There are some 60 references to honey in scripture and well over 20 specifically for "milk and honey." (Maybe in addition to "cleanliness," perhaps eating honey in your cereal is "next to godliness," too?).

"Milk and honey" originates in the Hebrew Bible in God's description of the land between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River, namely, Canaan. It is first described as "a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey" (Ex. 3:8)— and this description becomes a frequent reference for God to motivate His people to move there. I don't think He would have to twist my arm!

Apparently I am not the only one who highly values honey. An interesting part of honey's legacy in Jewish culture is that, as a testament to the high value put on this particular food, Jewish dietary laws made a consolation for it. Rabbis taught that biblical laws reflect the general principle that anything taken from any "unclean" animals is forbidden. Bees would have fit the description as as "unclean" .

Early rabbinical literature declares that bees do not produce honey, but simply transport the nectar of flowers and store it as honey in their hives. Therefore, since they didn't "make" the honey, then it was acceptable for the Israelites to eat it. Modern science, however, recognizes that bees actually do produce it, processing nectar in their bodies with enzymes. To argue for honey's acceptance, God's description of Canaan was used as argument that it was acceptable to eat it.

The Psalmist suggests a beautifully sweet word picture, "How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!" (119:103 also see Ps. 19:10). I love the thought of that! God's word being a sweet to me as pouring that wonderful golden nectar on my corn flakes? Can it get much better than that? That truly is a sweet sound to my ears!

Even if it as brief as a hit off a plastic packet of cheap coffee shop honey, I want each occasion I read the word of God to hit my spirit with sweetness and delight. For many Christ-followers, we can sometimes come to God's word as a routine, forgetting what it is (God-breathed) and just how wonderfully sweet it can be for changing our lives for the better. Even if it is one small taste per day, go ahead and step up to "the hive." There is a blessing in it waiting for you!

House of Praise

2008-01-16T08:25:00.000-08:00

Due to a long, long over-due state vehicular inspection sticker (you know you’re too busy if…), this morning found me somewhat off my usual beaten path. Apparently state inspection stations are not as plentiful as I thought they were so today, after seeking out several locations at pre-dawn AM, I went back to the one I knew could take care of my need. Unfortunately, they didn’t open for another hour! So, given the opportunity there must always be a cup of coffee not too far away.

Craving a “bucks,” but finances and known location getting the better of desire, I wheeled into a place sporting “golden arches.” From the moment I arrived though, I realized the “outsides” don’t always match the “insides.” I quickly discovered this wasn’t your typical “Micky D’s.”

Masculine dark wood décor accented with paisley cushions, beveled glass curio cabinets, potted silk plants, faux wood accompanying ceramic tile floors, decorative “mood” lighting, angular architecture… from top to bottom this place was like stepping into a fast-food parallel universe.

One reason I frequent the nation’s fastest growing coffee chain is as much about ambiance as it is coffee. Those places simply feel “right” to me as body and brain come together in experience. My creative mind is soothed by the soft textures, intentional lighting and (generally) quiet surroundings.

“This is a McDonalds?” I ask myself upon entry. Sitting in a booth, I realize this doesn’t feel like a McDonalds at all (and the coffee was the best fast food coffee I’ve ever tasted). I sure can’t get a McMuffin at S’bucks! I’m beginning to wish this wasn’t so “out of my way.”

Growing up at McD’s, I never knew anything but red and yellow color splashed all over a canvas of white fiberglass seats and stainless steel countertops. An air tank cleverly disguised as a guy named “Ronald” would blow up a balloon for me. What is going on in the world of Filet-O-Fish and the Hamburgler? Maybe they are realizing something the people of God have known for thousands of years. They way things look communicates something. I mean, even the Playland here is “up-scale” with a rustic rough stone and lodge pole feel. Do these kids realize what they have?

Halfway through my coffee and McMuffin, a group of local high school students enter. Among the most well behaved teens I’ve seen in a while, they prove to be louder than the rest of this morning’s clientele (what pre-tardy teens aren’t?). It seems as though they respect how nice this place is and as they begin to leave, I see each one cleaning up after themselves (what are the odds?). This has been a nice experience off my usual beaten path.

All this makes me wonder what people see when they encounter places of worship. I’ve been around church buildings all my life. Most of which I don’t recall, but some are etched in my memory for good. Aromas, art, sound… some made profoundly positive impressions on me not just of architecture and finish, but of religious experience and of worship and, perhaps, even of God Himself.

Growing up in a fellowship where we apparently worked hard at making things look “plain, simple and functional” it was as if we traded one thing or something else. What could have been elegant light fixtures in the worship space were nearly always displaced by some type of simple 60’s pendant globes that had about as much personality as a cold leftover French fry. Religious art was, at best, a painted mural of a stream behind the baptistery. “Function over form” might be the most economic description of what I knew of church buildings growing up. What a long distance from “fiberglass booths and stainless steel countertops” this fast food restaurant has come. About now, I could really use another cup of coffee.

In the 65^th Psalm, David declares God will be praised in Jerusalem and that God’s people are filled with good things when they enter the house of the Lord (the Temple). There were occasions when God’s people didn’t put the effort they should have into the house of God (the Temple) (see Haggai for example). On at least one occasion they had to go back and get it right because they were putting more effort into making their own homes nice than they were the house of the Lord.

There must certainly be discretionary limits to décor, even in a house of worship. It doesn’t have to be gaudy, but it should be nice and intentional. Because when the place is nice, it makes a difference and it communicates something. Perhaps we should give more consideration toward, and put more effort into, what our “houses of worship” look like. If it mattered to God for the Temple, maybe it still does! What do you think?

I’m on my way to get a free refill on my coffee... now try that at your local “fancy coffee” place!

T-Shirts

2007-12-17T14:56:00.000-08:00

The other day as I was leaving the gym I passed a woman who was wearing a T-shirt with a scenic graphic picture on the front and the simple words "South Carolina" emblazoned across the bottom. Clearly on her way to work out, I guessed this shirt (like the sweaty one rolled up in the bottom of my gym bag) was a "cull" from the "soon to be rag" category of her wardrobe.

When it comes to work out clothes it generally seems like there are two kinds of "gym types." There are those sporting the high dollar, scientifically developed, pro athlete endorsed, sweat wicking togs and then there are what I would call the "S.L.O.B's" (Shirt Left Over Bunch) who grab whatever may be laying on the floor when the motivation to hit the gym strikes. I'll confess, I'm more the "slob" variety. But this has little to do with my point.

Seeing this woman's shirt got me to wondering what life was like before silkscreen shirts. Can we even remember back that far? I remember the "early days" of silk screens when they were basically iron-on emblems that in time pealed off the shirt like old paint off the side of a barn.

Now, that type of technology is so good, you can print your own iron-on transfers from your own laptop and have a "custom" shirt in minutes and they last nearly as long as commercially produced shirts.

Commercially produced silk screen shirts in our culture today is big business (I actually was aggressively challenged by a silk-screen salesperson last week on "why in the world would you not want screened shirts advertising your church?") and the more attention I've paid to it the last few days, I can safely say screened shirts are "everywhere." Even the label in the T-shirt I'm wearing today is screened in, not sewn in.

What has really got me thinking is "why" do we wear screened clothing? Going back to the lady at the gym early this week... why "South Carolina" anyway? Is she a native? Did she visit and like it so much she had to tell the world about it? Did someone else visit and "all she got was this stupid T-shirt?" What is it with our fascination with advertising places and products, anyway?

To my knowledge I've never received a single penny from one of the "big three" sports clothing manufacturers for wearing one of their shirts, yet I have a shelf in my closet full of them. Weird! Is it our desire to look like pro athletes that makes us buy these things? Are we so impressed with a particular vacation spot that we want the world to know we've been there, done that?

What are we proclaiming with our shirts? Are we encouraging others to buy "our" brand? Surely it is more than letting others know what brand we're wearing. If that's it, then why don't we just rip our labels out and sew them on the front of our shirts? Problem solved!

Is the woman at the gym proud of South Carolina? Is wearing the shirt a way of recalling a memory? If so, does the affection of the memory fade as the shirt reaches "workout" status? I now own shirts I won't wear anymore simply because the memory attached to the place is so strong. I don't want to ruin the shirt and then not have the symbol of my affection. Again, quite weird if you're asking me!

And what of all those religious shirts? Are they a proclamation of faith? Are they testimonial? Are they simply a reminder to benefit the wearer? Are they judgment for all others who don't agree with the wearer's brand of faith?

It is a curious thing why we wear our allegiances so boldly. I have to wonder if we really believe what we wear, or are we merely wearing our convictions on our sleeves?

If I Counted Correctly...

2007-12-14T18:59:00.000-08:00

If I counted correctly, I could have attended as many as six gift-exchange parties this Christmas season! That means I could have given/received more gifts than I will likely receive on Christmas morning! While some of these events are a little more serious (nice gifts expected -- some now with a price tag of $25 or more), some are cheap ($.99 or less -- this year the BAG cost more than the gift I gave in that exchange) and some are utterly and completely silly (just ask my good friend, "SpongeBob SquarePreacher" -- he was "framed" I'm telling you, "framed!").

Why we keep doing these things, I don't know. It all seems so predictable and yet, there we go, gift in hand, laugh a little, get ticked that someone else stole the gift we really wanted (especially in those $25 exchanges), try to figure out a way to let people know what gift we brought (if we are proud of it and it was a "hit") and hope no one finds out what we brought (if the general consensus is that the gift was a dud). Then we go home and mutter something about how tired we are of "those things" and ask why do we keep going to them.

Now don't get me wrong. It's not that I'm against these festive little gatherings. In fact, in some ways having them may poke fun at how commercially "profane" we've made the season of Christ's birth in the first place. Actually, I'm good with all that now and then and frankly believe we need to poke a finger into our collective sides on occasion and query why we do what we do.

I guess what bugs me about this whole "gift exchange game" is the fact that I must now "count" how many I could have attended one of them (remember I could have attended SIX of these things this season) and question the general lack of apparent creativity on the part of us as hosts (just earlier tonight I hosted a high school drama department version of the exact same thing in our home -- so I admit I'm as much a part of the problem as the solution). Seriously thinking, other than the retailers of silly (or not so silly) gift items, is anyone just chomping at the bit for us to have another one of these things? I'm just wondering to myself here...

It isn't that I don't completely enjoy these exchanges or that I'm not willing to attend another one ever again (though I'm done for this year)... I'm just wondering if there is something else "out there" for us human beings to do as friends at Christmas time! Maybe caroling, maybe sharing Christmas stories, perhaps decorating a tree... I don't know -- let's come up with something different. I'd even go for a hay ride, but I'd wind up sneezing myself into oblivion!

I'm just thinking out loud and wondering if anyone else shares my complications with the whole "need for counting..." thing. One gift exchange would be enough, wouldn't it? If we were really honest with ourselves... aren't we maybe a little bored with the whole concept, anyway? I mean, I've been going to these things for years!!!

This next year I am going to commit some time to thinking of something new to do with my friends next Christmas. Who knows? Maybe you'll consider joining us and then you'll have to "count" and see if our gig will make your list of things to do!

A Thumb-full of Patience

2007-12-10T19:33:00.000-08:00

Lately I’ve been learning a lesson in patience (funny how “the more we learn, the less we know!”). My right thumb has now been splinted 24/7 for nearly 28 consecutive days. That is only half-way through a minimum 8 weeks two months required to “compensate” for a ruptured extensor tendon. Torn beyond the repair that surgery might have provided, medical advise suggests simply keeping it immobilized to let scar tissue form and create what is essentially a new “tendon” (in function) that will (hopefully) provide up to 90% of the movement I once took for granted. It is amazing what the human body is capable of doing to compensate for injury.

While old dogs may have difficulty learning new tricks, clearly old thumbs don’t heal as quickly as they once did and while the days on the calendar seem to evaporate like water in a hot skillet the older we get, they don’t when it comes to have a bandaged up thumb. In the world of my right hand the days and weeks are only creeping by. Which is slower the healing or the calendar? I don’t know. What I do know is I wish that the time zone in my left hand would catch up with the rest of the world speeding by!

As with most things in human existence when occurring out of the norm, there is typically close by a lesson waiting to be found . This morning I found one in Israel’s old hymnal (Psalm 24). This song proclaims a welcome for God into the temple. David uses a phrase that I particularly like, “Open up, you gates. Open wide, you aged doors and the glorious King will come in. Who is this glorious King? The Lord, strong and mighty. The Lord, the powerful warrior…” (Ps. 24:7-9). With bound thumb in splint, seemingly slower to heal each day and challenging my patience in ever-increasing ways, the “aged door” phrase has captured my attention.

Aged doors don’t open easily, do they? Decades of use, abuse, rust and wear make hinges squeak, grind and not easily open. There are occasions when we may even give up on ever even opening the door again. We becoming merely content to stay on the side we are on or perhaps we may seek an alternative way in. But here, at David’s exhortation, there is reason to pull on those old hinges and open the door, again. “Who is this glorious King?”

When I consider patience, I have to be amazed at the patience God has for me as I live in my earthly “temple.” Wholly dedicated to Him sometimes, there are also periods where I allow my hinges to rust and the door simply doesn’t open as easily for Him as it once did. Yet He remains, “The Lord, strong and mighty… the powerful warrior.”

Though it might be a bit more difficult than usual with my injured thumb, I'm learning something about patience and about the Lord and me as well. There is a good reason to grab the latch on the gate of my heart and give a good hard tug. I am confident an open gate is an invitation to meet with the King of glory, strong and mighty! It is there I may find a thumb-full more patience, too.

Becoming...

2007-11-24T20:18:00.000-08:00

Who I need to be is quite possibly not that far off. It is as though I can vaguely see it on the horizon like the dawning of the sun as it crests the landscape and illumines the silhouettes of winter's now barren trees. Provoked by knowing something better lies further down the road, I'm perplexed by how much time I've been spending in the rest area on the side of life's road. To be sure, there are others milling around here with me and perhaps we are all in the same predicament? I wonder where they are heading and wonder what they are becoming as well?

I'm not clear whether it is God's voice or my own ambition that begs me to get back on the road. There seems to be a fine line between self motivated ambition and fulfilling true Creative design. I'm guessing that even if I achieve all I think I should be, I'll still be missing the form and function the Creator desires. How much can we ever really know, anyway?

An ever increasing dependence upon the One who knows all things is where my limitations are most exposed. Frankly, I don't care much for being exposed. Far beyond the days of infantile innocence romping around in my developmental "birthday suit," mid-life acutely beckons awareness of who I am, who I'm not and what I am or am not becoming.

A strange thing is that most of us can function quite well right where we are. Continuing on as we have (perhaps for years) is apparently no major catastrophe (at least for the moment). When we allow ourselves to actually peek into that horizon though, where the sun has now fully engulfed the sky, then we are called to a reckoning of space and time. Looking into that brilliance, the realization of who we can be becomes somewhat inescapable. As surely as we can't halt the path of the sun, eventually we can't ignore the reality of who we could be. We are therefore forced to choose: either stay where I am or get back on the road.

This is when things become quite critical. A "wasted" day is now 12, 14, 15, 16, 17 waking hours less development toward my becoming. I face the reality that I can't keep living in the "rest area" and cast if off as merely a day when "I didn't do too much." It is now a day where I chose to hang out eating only junk food from vending machines and trying to wash in a sink that only provides 5 second bursts of water. There must be a better place further down the road, don't you think? Do we all really want to stay in a rest area (where most don't even have public showers, for goodness sakes!)?

So, it appears it is most appropriate for me (I can't make the decision for you) to buckle up and get back on the road. Becoming is on the horizon and from this vantage point, what remains to be seen looks rather interesting. Discipline is the call of the day. So, if you'll pardon my "blinker," that will be me merging in...

Colors

2007-11-06T13:01:00.001-08:00

The forecast calls for 65 degrees, but today will likely bring something closer to only 60. Tonight's low will be in the high 30's resulting in an explosion of color over the next few days. True, the northern regions of the great state of Texas is no New Hampshire this time of year, but nonetheless there is still an abundance of color to be found if one is willing to look for it.

Sitting alone at one of my favorite coffee spots, the colors of the season are already presenting. Pastel interpretations of Fall's colors adorn the walls as contributed by a local elementary school. Evidently the product of a collective art assignment. Some more technically accurate than others, the diversity of all must be appreciated. How wonderful are the differences between us.

Diversity and difference brings energy to some and challenge and frustration for others. I often wonder what differentiates the two. How is it that one person can see diversity in its stark reality and embrace it as a "good thing" and next run from it like a dangerous enemy?

I'm doubtful this time of year we will find any two leafs alike. Even if we combined all the leafs of New Hampshire and north Texas together, we still would likely never find any two exactly the same and yet we find few who will argue with fall's beauty.

This season, I'm trying to learn to further embrace diversity and see things more as God must see them and certainly as He has created them. Each uniquely created and yet in accord with His image. There is beauty in diversity and difference if we are willing to look for it.

How singularly incredible God is to be the "same yesterday, today and forever" and still love with such incredible diversity. These are the colors of the season.

Of Coffee Beans and Big Fish

2007-10-15T09:01:00.000-07:00

From the moment my head hit the pillow, I was anticipating it. Rain already falling in the late watch of the night secured the promise of showers certain to greet the early risers. Drifting off to a restful sleep, I could already smell the steaming cup of Autumn Blend awaiting my arrival in only a few short hours.

Autumn Blend is a seasonal intermingling of “artisan roasted beans” that has captured my caffeinated attention this fall. A hearty brew with an earthy undertone of chestnut and rose petals, it is sympathetic with the changing of the seasons. Rich in color and body, its aroma is nearly as captivating as its taste. So “sacred” has this blend become to me in the past few weeks, I dare not cover a steaming cup with a lid! This coffee must breathe and be experienced by as many senses as appropriately possible. Drinking even one cup has become precious to me.

Eyes beginning to close, I could see myself sitting in my usual spot. Slipping silently from the last few conscious moments of this day, I anticipated beginning my next watching out the window as the early moments of dawn illuminate the falling rain droplets off the window canopy. The week would begin on a beautiful note with a wonderful "cup of joe."

Darting between drops as a thick band of showers entered the area, I could see from the parking lot that my preferred table was unoccupied. Claiming my turf, I ordered a toasted “power bagel” (with butter) and a medium cup. Receiving my change, I made my way to the coffee bar and soon witnessed the wheels rolling off the beginning of my idyllic week… where is the Autumn Blend?

“Are you still brewing the Autumn Blend,” I ask inquiringly. “No, we’re out of Autumn Blend,” is the reply. “Out as in… ‘Out for the moment’, or...” I hopefully suggest. “No…out as in the distribution center has it back ordered and it will be several days or more before we have any available,” is the response from the cashier. “Oh... I see…” is my lament.

Funny how we become so conditioned by preference. Now on my third cup of Vanilla Hazelnut, I’m all the more convinced there is no better coffee for this season than my beloved Autumn Blend. “Why does it have to be this way?” I wonder to myself. “Don’t they realize how many lives are affected by the fact that some distribution clerk did not appropriately anticipate the demand? Didn’t anyone realize that I alone could personally account for a run on the season’s best coffee?” I finally concede as I pour that third cup of inferior java.

How appropriate my morning reading would include Jonah. Most are quite familiar with Jonah and the big fish incident but not as many recall Jonah and the whole vine thing. That incident in Jonah’s life doesn’t seem to get as much press coverage but is as telling about his general disposition as not wanting to go where God sent him.

After God and Jonah have their 3-day, 3-night “staff meeting” in the belly of the big fish, Jonah makes his way to Ninevah and proclaims the prophecy of the Lord – basically, “repent or die.” The people appropriately repent in sackcloth and ashes as Jonah waits east of the city to see if God is going to follow through on His promises. He does and Jonah is about as hacked about it as if his favorite coffee were missing from the coffee bar.

From his perch of perdition, Jonah is comforted by a quickly sprouting vine which shades his head from the heat of the day. As he becomes accustomed to its provided comfort, a worm attacks the vine and the plant dies as quickly as it grew. Jonah’s anger now grows beyond reason as God steps in to intervene.

“You are so concerned for that plant even though you did nothing to make it grow. It appeared one day and the next day it died,” God said. And I find myself curious as to whether the clarity of his anger struck Jonah. "I know why I am angry," he must be assured. "But is it right?" has got to be a perplexing issue for him.

I wonder how many times I become upset about inconveniences to my life but have no invested effort in their existence or outcome. Do I complain over the rain when I’d prefer sunshine? Do I revisit anger over a frequently encountered pothole on my morning commute while I’ve done nothing to help maintain the roadway? Do I pout when my favorite blend of coffee is unavailable, yet there are plenty of others from which to choose?

So my week didn’t start out as envisioned, but I’m seeking a new perspective. How about you? Is there another way of looking at matters of inconvenience which are ultimately well beyond our control?

Of Fall...

2007-10-11T06:27:00.000-07:00

After what seemed a long summer, morning’s chill has finally come. The crisp snap in the pre-dawn air is a clear indicator fall has arrived and winter’s blast not long to come. While leaves still tenaciously hang at their perch, it is now only a matter of time before they blush into a chilly night’s hue and make their gentle descent to the ground. It is the season of slumber, of calm, of returning to the things that ground us. There is a subtle, yet profound, beauty in this time of year.

One of the great features of fall is watching things change. A gentle metamorphosis occurs right before one’s eyes. In a matter of weeks, what once was green and full of life makes a fantastic chromatic journey through the color spectrum and then quietly goes to tender sleep resting on earth’s floor. As long as time itself, the cycle repeats annually only to give way to the birth of spring pending fall’s chill again. It is a beautiful thing, really.

These are the days of fall. Football games, festivals, State Fairs and homecomings… a time when we come back to where we’ve come from. Different than the reunions typical of spring or summer, homecomings have a more natural and less formal feel about them. A migratory sense looms about this time of year as natural as a leaf returning to the ground. Bundled in our warm overcoats, perhaps for the first time of the season, homecoming calls us to root on the home team and refrain the alma mater one more time. It is a wonderful thing, really.

Homecoming kings and queens notwithstanding, homecoming is about getting back to where we started. It is about reacquainting ourselves with the familiar and coming close once again to the things dear to us. While it may be chilly on the outside, overall there is something warm and comfortable about coming home.

This is a great time of year. A time to touch base and reconnect; to let the leaves fall while remembering what is at the core of our being. This is a time to become quiet and return to that which deeply roots us. Fall is a beautiful time of year.

“We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body

and at home with the Lord.”

2 Cor. 5:8

The Death of Trees

2007-10-05T00:51:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I should have seen it coming, though I never saw it coming. It was likely so obvious that had it been a hole in the ground, I would have walked right into it. In fact, it was a hole in the ground at one point.

My family and I moved into our current home about 26 months ago. We have a lovely home, situated in an ideal neighborhood surrounded by lovely park settings, walking trails, urban lakes and a golf course. Though far from mature in flora, the builders and HOA have cooperated with one another to quickly produce a visibly pleasing place to live (something should justify those HOA fees!).

Each home came fully equipped with featured landscaping in the front yards including three nice trees in the front and fully sodded backyards including one tree from which to begin landscaping in the back. Each tree had a one-year guarantee from the date of move-in. Within a year, we replaced three of the four trees!

Moving into our home in the middle of a season of drought in North Texas was tough on the lawns and trees in particular. Within that first year, three of our four trees met an unfortunate death to what we thought was shock. Two nice northern Red Oaks in the front and one Texas Live Oak in the back never saw the home's first anniversary. Responsibly, the builder replaced all three trees with Texas Live Oaks and for a season all seemed well.

Within only a few months however, I began to notice the tree in the back yard began looking "ill." I was careful to give it plenty of water and watched the tree closely. My neighbor's tree (also a Live Oak) seemed to be doing just fine. But in a matter of only a couple more months, that tree went from a beautiful "live" Live Oak to a sparsely leafed, "dead oak." The only consolation I received in its passing was that a small bird family had nested in it branches. Of course, by now we had met the one-year deadline (pardon the pun) and the builders considered themselves free from any responsibility in replace my now dead replacement tree.

Through the cold winter the tree stood its ground but was clearly done with life and though its branches reached toward the warmth of Springs new sun, the leaves never returned. Within a few months, the bony fingered branches figured against the bright blue sky and barked pealed away from the main trunk. The tree began returning to the ground from which it came.

I left that tree standing for some time as a sorrowful reminder of just how quickly death can take all things that have life (and breath. I suppose it could be argued that even trees breathe, as they give back oxygen to the created world around them).

An old friend of mine moved into the neighborhood a few months later, but into a section with older mature trees. In fact, his property looks like an old arboretum or something compared to ours. He has beautiful old trees all over his yard that tower into the sky. Some of the trees soar 50 feet or more into the sky. But in keeping with their contractual promise, the builders stuck a simple little "new" Northern Red Oak smack dab in the middle of my friend's new yard. It was the most ill placed tree anyone had ever seen. In the midst of all its towering neighbors and for the sake of having some semblance of a functional yard, the baby tree clearly had to go!

My friend was just going to throw it out until one day I suggested we could replace my dead tree with his "new" one. He agreed and through a comical escapade (something involving another friend's pickup truck, a furniture dolly, rope and a couple bungee cords -- a funny story better saved for another time) we hauled this lovely Northern Red Oak to my backyard (nearly a mile's driving distance away) and successfully transplanted the tree where the previously two had stood, and died.

I kept the trunk of the old tree not far from its once thriving growth spot as a kind of tombstone and epitaph in memoriam to both the former trees (that may have been a bad idea, though I'm not sure it would have ultimately made a difference). The young Red Oak stood tall and proud. Truth be told, it was the finest of all three of the trees that had now occupied the hole. Given all the work and sweat invested in this tree, I loved it! The tree and I had "bonded" (my friend and I had made a wonderfully funny memory to add to our collection) and I anticipated the day that tree would grow big and strong. I could clearly envision the day I would likely sip lemonade in its shade and sneak a hammock nap on a cool Spring afternoon. For a year now, things have gone according to plan. Until last week...

As I was mowing the lawn, I noticed the edges of all the leaves beginning to turn brown. Since it had now been a couple of weeks since our last rain, I thought it might need more water. However, the tree's Red Oak counterpart in the front yard is thriving in the same conditions. Now 2 1/2 years in its place, it is beginning to tower into the sky (the largest new oak on our street). The two Texas Live Oaks in the front are doing well also, which tells me the brown edges are not the function of a lack of water. Incredible rain totals this year (North Texas is now officially no longer in a drought) have provided plenty of water in which to grow. Plus, I've been careful to keep water on the tree in the dry weeks. There must be something else wrong, I began to think.

Yesterday, my wife left me a note saying, "Something is wrong with the tree in the back yard." And going out to investigate, I could not believe the change in only a week's time. There is something very wrong with our wonderful tree.

Today, I researched the matter and have determined it is terminal. Our sweet Red Oak could be completely dead by the end of the month and there is nothing I can do about it. There is a condition called Oak Wilt that will take the life of an oak tree quicker than anything else (it is the equivalent of a massive coronary in a human being). A fungus clogs the vascular system of oak trees preventing the flow of water and nutrients through the trunk and the tree dies a certain death. There is no known cure. (Read more about Oak Wilt) (On one of our church campuses, Oak Wilt has killed a number of historic trees that have been cut down and destroyed. Without such aggressive action, Oak Wilt can take out every tree in the area).

Beginning to mourn the loss of my young Red Oak tree, honestly today has been a sad day. I was proud of how that tree had stood its ground where the previous two had not. Carefully staked into the ground, the new tree had traveled a long way to our house (in a hilarious adventure) and it seemed to like the new location and warm evening sun. It had also weathered some powerful summer storms (a couple too-close-for-comfort lightning strikes that raised havoc on certain appliances and electronics in our house). But now, a simple, unstoppable fungus will ultimately be its demise. Today, I began to wonder if anything will ever grow in the hole?

I should have seen it coming. If I had only thought about the hole... but I never thought about the hole! It wasn't the tree, it was the soil! Duh! It seems so obvious now! If I had only known about the hole! It just kills me that I led the tree into a hole of death! What a really, really sad thing it is!

Have you ever thought about the soil into which your life is planted? So often, our lives (like beautiful trees) can be looking so good from one point of view and then, take a sudden turn for the worse. Sometimes, "stuff" invades our spiritual lives that is so destructive it is like a fungus. It works its way into our root system and chokes us out and over time, we just might die and by then, there is nothing we can do about it. Our spiritual vascular system is so compromised, we just wither up and die.

The Oak Wilt fungus doesn't manifest itself in visual signs on the tree until the life is already choked out of it. Now for our family, it is just a function of watching it continue to die. If I had only known about the hole! There were things we might could have done... evacuated the soil, chemically treated it and let the soil rest until the fungus was gone. Or perhaps I could have planted the tree in another hole far from the first one. But, instead we put a beautiful tree into a very dead hole.

What kind of soil are you living in? You may look fine to the world around you, but that may not be the best indicator of how spiritually healthy you are. There may be sickness "in the hole" that only you know about. If so, may I suggest a quick transplanting? By the time your "leaves" start showing the ill effects, it simply might be too late.

I'm going to miss that tree... imagine what it could have been.

Expectations...

2007-10-02T19:56:00.000-07:00

"So what did you expect?" came the proposed question with a slight tone of condescension and disappointment that there wasn't more faith played out in the moment.

"I don't know..." was the drifting response.

So, what do we expect in any given circumstance? I realize certain personality types are more given to optimism while others will always deem the "glass half empty." Though typically an optimistic person, I still find myself "expecting the best" but "prepared for the worst." And I'm trying to change.

One of my favorite scenes from the Minor Prophets of Old Testament scripture is a picture of Jerusalem fully blessed by the Lord. In the span of a few verses, the prophet Zechariah speaks on behalf of the Lord and proclaims that He has a "strong love for Jerusalem" that burns like a fire. God promises to return to Jerusalem and living in it will see to it that "old men and old women will sit along the streets and the streets will be filled with boys and girls playing." Those who will be left alive to witness this beautiful picture will think something this wonderful will be "too difficult" for the Lord. But God is quick to respond saying, "but it is not too difficult for me." (For the entire picture, see Zechariah 8:1-23).

Jerusalem had been in exile for a long time at the hands of a powerful and oppressive people. When we find ourselves in a tough situation for a long period of time, it is often difficult to even think, let alone envision, something better than what we've known. But God is in the business of doing amazing things and it is true that "nothing is too difficult" for Him.

I'm learning when it comes to being in relationship with God, I can actually not only expect the good circumstances, but I can actually prepare for them with anticipation, knowing that God is painting an extravagant picture and true reliable blessings are just around the corner.

Do you have the faith to expect the very best and then live in anticipation of it?

What's Love Got To Do With It?

2007-09-28T08:14:00.000-07:00

Tina Turner once recorded a song lamenting "What's love got to do with it... Who needs a heart, when a heart can be broken?" It is just one of a "million" songs questioning whether love is ever really worth the trouble. Perhaps people ask the same question about a relationship with God as well?

God is love. This is His most self-defining trait. It might be helpful for us when we think of God and love to think not so much in terms of "God doing lovely things," but that "Love does godly things." You see, love is something that does indescribable things. Love can work miracles in the lives of people and can bring so much beauty to the world, it is impossible to appreciate it all. Love is a powerful force beyond measure.

God is love and whoever doesn't love like God loves doesn't really know God (1 John 4:8). I think rather than God choosing to love, the powerful reality about God is that He IS love. It is as if he is bound by His own nature and therefore He has to act according to that nature! This is what makes that scripture so powerful when it says, "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son..."

While I can't prove God didn't "choose" to send His son, I do think it is a powerful thought to consider that God's nature of love is as powerful, if not more powerful, than choice! That is a great thought isn't it? Because that means that if we REALLY love someone, we are going to sacrifice for them almost "instinctively" rather than merely because we "choose" to. Love can be a powerful thing, can't it?

Think of it in terms of salvation in Christ. "God demonstrates his own love for us in this. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8). For Jesus to die for us is a mighty strong demonstration of love. I really like the thought that love is more powerful than choice. I'm going to have to spend some more time thinking about that, but I believe it may be true.

The painful part of life is when someone "chooses" not to demonstrate love. Again, thinking in terms of "love doing godly things" that can explain why it hurts so much when someone doesn't "choose" to love us. When someone else injures or abuses us, we have to wonder and ask, "why isn't that person loving me?" That is what makes God's love so incredibly amazing. He is always willing to love without fault! But that reality is also what makes a human being's inability for "loving to do godly things" hurt us so badly when they fail us. We want the love God can give, but get the love (or lack of love) a human chooses to give. That is an incredible "lowering of the bar" from what God has to offer. I mean, find someone who can love you more and more like God loves you and you've really found something!

Birdsong

2007-09-24T20:57:00.000-07:00

Most of my life I have enjoyed singing (though not always fond of the sound of my own voice) and it is rare there is not a song in my head and typically one can be found on my lips. And yet, in the past few years I have come to appreciate the voice of another member of the created community certainly more than my own.

In recent years, I have become more and more attuned to the countless sounds birds make. Birdsongs are fascinating artistic works if one will simply take the time to listen to them. (Hear a Nightingale here) Yesterday, while leaving our church campus following a great day of worship, Bible study, fellowship and food... I was stopped in my tracks by a wonderful sound of a particular bird. Once I spotted the beaked vocalist in the trees, I invited it to continue on in singing its songs... and the bird was quite kind in reply.

For several minutes I stood and listened to song after song (I was careful to quietly thank the performer at the end of each verse). I lost count at over a dozen different renderings or chirps, warps and chuckles. It was a most excellent concert and I likely would have applauded if I'd known it would not offend the bird and have it consider me trying to rid the area of its presence.

The event took me back to an account I once read of St. Francis of Assisi.

Many of the accounts surrounding the life of St Francis mention his particular appreciation for animals and creation. Perhaps the most famous account from his life expressing his love for nature is recounted in the 'Fioretti' (The Little Flowers), a collection of legends and folk-lore that sprang up after his death. It is told that one day while Francis was traveling with some companions they happened upon a place where birds filled the trees on either side of them. Francis told his companions to “wait for me while I go to preach to my sisters the birds.” The birds surrounded him, drawn by the power of his voice, and not one of them flew away. Francis spoke to them:

"My sister birds, you owe much to God, and you must always and in everyplace give praise to Him; for He has given you freedom to wing through the sky and He has clothed you…you neither sow nor reap, and yet God feeds you and gives you rivers and fountains for your thirst, and mountains and valleys for shelter, and tall trees for your nests. And although you neither know how to spin or weave, God dresses you and your children, for the Creator loves you greatly and He blesses you abundantly. Therefore… always seek to praise God."

While I didn't preach to this singular songbird, I did feel a sense of connectedness to all of Creation through the experience. After a great day with my Christian family, it seemed only appropriate to share some of our joy with the "birds of the field." They, in turn, were willing to share their gift with me.

I'm looking forward to another concert. In fact, I heard the chorus practicing today outside my office window and I know they will be well rehearsed for their next performance. As with my friend St. Francis, I will only ask that my birdsong friends always seek to praise God. For if they do, it will surely be a wonderful experience!

Repentence

2007-09-21T12:32:00.000-07:00

One thing I don't enjoy doing is U-turns. On a motorcycle, no matter how good a rider may be, U-turns present problems. As adept as most motorcycles and their riders are in the turns, at such low speeds, even the highest performing bikes and riders are vulnerable to rider error or bike limitations (it has been said it takes more skill to ride slowly than it does to ride fast). Generally speaking, motorcycles are not inclined to turn such tight turns at such reduced speeds. Balance, precision, technique and concentration all come into play when riding slowly and navigating a 180 degree turn.

I also don't care for U-turns because generally speaking, it means I've "missed" something and am having to correct a navigational "error." Most of the time, a U-turn is a public admission of guilt for when I have made a mistake and must "turn around."

The biblical concept of repentance is basically a call for a "U-turn." It is a call for a 180 degree shift in behavior and/or thought and is critical to successfully navigating a journey with the Creator.

So often repentance in my life has been more of a response to my own shame than to true godly sorrow. I am puzzled to think of how many times I have "repented," often from the same sin over and over again and still fins myself doing it again . This makes me wonder how authentic and effectual my "repentance" ever was in the first place! Is repentance really repentance if we simply return to the same behaviors over and over again? Maybe, maybe not.

I wonder how often I have repented to merely salvage my own ego or to maintain some sense of a good reputation? Henry Drummond wrote about repentance, true repentance, as a matter of "looking God in the face," not merely looking at one's self in the mirror and dealing with the pain or injury of one's sin against self or one another.

For true repentance to take root in our life, we must be willing to walk before the throne of God with humble abandon and let the masterful work of His perfection expose the crude indecency of our sin. Only He can truly expose who I really am. Only He has the power to renovate my interiors so that my final exteriors will begin to ultimately bear His glory and praise.

Left to my own assessment, I'll surely try to justify my choices one way or another.

By God's grace and mercy, we can have the courage to face ourselves as only God sees us. He knows our hearts, He sees everything as it is and still chooses to love in spite of what He sees. He is the One, whom I may have just run past, that calls me back to a better course of direction and ultimately a better final destination.

For the sake of His love and mercy, I'm learning to gladly make a U-turn, even if it requires slowing down and exercising more caution than usual.

Time Passages

2007-08-10T23:18:00.000-07:00

Tonight, a good friend's daughter became engaged. He "popped the question" and she said "yes!" She called many of us as friends to share the good news. We could all see it coming (a match made in heaven some would say) but to have it "official" will now allow all the family and friends to rejoice all the more (pardon the pun for those who know them).

This is becoming a pattern for my life. For the past few years, as I watch my friend's children begin to marry and start their own families, I've been observing my own children now the way I once observed my friend's children. My daughters are filling the "life stations" that other's children have travel before them. Our newly engaged friend is 21 today (seems too young now, but as I think that, I acknowledge it is the same age as my wife the day we married) and I realize that in less than 5 full years, my oldest daughter will be the same age... 21! On that day, another time passage will be fulfilled and another will begin.

Time passes quickly I suppose, though that is obviously more a function of perspective than anything else. As natural as it is for time to pass and for children to grow, it should be equally natural for a parent to welcome the change. It isn't always easy.

I'm finding simply appreciating the beauty of each life station and taking in as much of the "scenery" as possible is about the best way to cope. In a few years, that will be my daughter calling our friends announcing the "big news." I can only pray I'm ready for those headlines!

Congratulations to the young man and young woman newly engaged tonight! In another 5 years (give or take a few) they'll continue the cycle and will remember what my kids were like as their kids grow. In one sense it is simply the passing of time, but in another, it is so much more (pardon that pun again... but I think you'll understand).

Time passages.

Adventures

2007-07-31T15:12:00.000-07:00

I am currently finding myself about waist-deep in an ever unfolding adventure. Humbled to be participating in the first multi-site expression of church in the Churches of Christ, I'm finding very little to be unfolding as predicted. I love adventures, always have.

Ever since I was a little kid, I've preferred the "unknown." Given the opportunity to hear something, read something, experience something where the final "chapter" is unknown, I'll take it every time over the predictable. I've always been spontaneous and love "taking turns" at speed.

I have been known to simply "drop in" on my friends (much to the consternation of my wife) with little or no notice. This tendency likely has some genetic moorings that I'm now watching regenerate in at least one of my own children (the other is more like her mom... "let's be on time and spare me the surprises" would be her mantra).

One of my favorite things to do is to get on my motorcycle (preferably with another friend also on their motorcycle, though I have gone it alone), pick a navigational direction and just "go." For several days at a time with no idea for what we'll see, or what we'll eat or where we'll sleep or whatever. It has proven to be one of the most liberating experiences of my life and I'll likely keep doing it as long as I'm able.

Right now, ministry is like one of those trips. We're launching a new church site this coming Sunday and we have no idea how many people are going to show up for the first worship service in our new location or what to expect other than we will be gathered to lead people to a deeper walk with Christ.

We've extended the invitation to over 20,000 people (if they all show up, it will be a real adventure, for sure) and we are scurrying around making all the preparations so the day goes as smoothly as possible. However, building renovations won't be concluded and there will surely be some loose ends that we can't begin to even forecast. But I am confident God is going to show up in even greater force than those who come to worship Him and it will be an amazing time.

Isn't it great to follow the Creator who can build a universe out of "nothing?" Keep us in your prayers, we have no idea how wonderful this trip is going to be, but I can assure you, it will be exciting!

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous.
Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged,
for the Lord your God will be with you
wherever you go."
Joshua 1:9

Simple Things

2007-07-22T15:49:00.000-07:00

Thinking back over my years thus far I have to confess I've been quite fortunate. So many incredible blessings beyond counting have been mine and still I'm amazed by the things I experience every day.

I've been fortunate to sit at the feet of some incredibly talented and well-known (famous) people, I've seen some amazing things and traveled to locations some will only see on the pages of magazines (though there is still so much more I want to see and experience) and still I remain staggeringly amazed by the "simple" things.

I have found it is not the famous, the picturesque or the exotic in life that finds its deepest meaning for me, but rather it is in the simple. Catching the eye and the smile of a 5 month old child during the last song of today's worship, noticing the grandeur of an old oak tree, or simply taking a walk around the neighborhood. Sometimes the most "amazing" experiences are found in the "simple" things.

What will that little 5 month old boy become one day (I prayed he already feels the power of God's presence in his life)? How long has that old oak tree been growing next to the freeway exit (I guarantee it has been there much longer than the freeway)? How many crickets, frogs and birds are contributing to nature's chorus in my own backyard (listen closely to their music, it is magnificent)? Simply amazing, really.

If you are willing, look for the "simple" things and share what you experience over the next few days.

Culture of Abundance

2007-07-19T20:26:00.000-07:00

Much is often said of the abundance in our culture. Fortunate or not, we find ourselves living in the wealthiest nation in the world at what is arguably the height of its riches. Sociologists make much of the ever increasing distance between the wealthy and poor and that this distance will ultimately be the downfall of our "success." I don't know what to make of such things, though it seems plausible when I consider how abundance influences my own life.

Earlier today, I continued pondering the expanse of my own abundance. Yesterday, I began culling through my closet of clothes because I simply can't stand the thought any longer of having so much and consistently wearing so little (not that I wear "skimpy" clothes, but I tend to wear the same things with frequency). So, I'm planning on donating a bunch of clothes to our local benevolence ministry.

The ironic thing in this great culture of abundance is considering the things I lack. The things I lack are not of a material nature, but are rather things like the discipline to spend even more time in quiet reflection before the Lord. Things like taking the time to call my sister more often and catch up on her life. Things like stopping long enough to watch birds bathe themselves in puddles (or take dirt "baths" in piles of loose dirt -- that's always been a mystery to me as to why they do that -- there is nothing about a dirt bath that I find inviting).

I suppose my problem with the whole thing is that I live as though there will always be "enough" of everything in my life -- a culture of abundance. For example, I tend to live like there will always be time to do these things I mentioned I don't seem to have "enough" time to do. I try to be disciplined with my time and maximize the effort I invest in my life, but perhaps the culture of abundance deceives me. Maybe there is a better way...

To think of time as a precious commodity... rather than one of abundance, makes me wonder how my life would change (I realize this cognitively, but emotionally and spiritually there are new depths to plumb). Would I become even more "possessive" of my time and treat people or projects with disrespect if I didn't deem them "worthy" of my time? Would I become even more liberal with my time and allow for even more intrusion than I do now? I don't know. But it seems to me there must be a better balance in there, somewhere. Don't you think?

What are your thoughts about our "culture of abundance" and how do you think it influences our life? I'm curious to know your thoughts.

How about taking a little time, giving it a little thought and then sharing what you discover about it? If you have the time... of course.

Wild Fire

2007-07-17T19:54:00.000-07:00

Most people are quick to proclaim which element of their physical being for which they have little if any affinity. For some, they might declare it is their hips that could benefit from some renovation (now that I think of it, I don't believe I've ever heard a man complain about his hips). For others it might be their hair (and then I've heard a "mess" of men complain about their hair -- or typically the lack thereof). I am, however, most certain I've never heard anyone complain about their tongue. That is simply something you don't hear people talking about! "Eeewww... I hate my tongue," does not roll off the lips of body-conscious teenage girls. While hormonally-driven teenage boys who will brag all day about their biceps or "six-pack" abs will never be heard bragging about how awesome their tongue is (at least I'd hope not). It just doesn't happen (at least it shouldn't -- that'd be just a little too weird).

Perhaps this explains the relative lack of maintenance the human tongue receives. Do you brush your tongue with regularity (kind of a personal question, I know)? My dentist told me long ago vigorously brushing of the tongue was a way of preventing what he determined as "unsightly breath." (Now, I'm still trying to figure out just how "unsightly breath" would smell and it seems to me that if one's breath has deteriorated to the point of being even "sightly" (let alone "unsightly") it would likely be time to consider a new oral hygiene regimen).

I've always had a unique relationship with my tongue. I recall wiling away hours in school, training my tongue to do various "tricks." The standard "nose touch" and the typically routine "half-pipe" roll was an early accomplishment along with the "barrel-rolls" both to the right and to the left. After some practice, I got to the point of being able to fold my tongue over backwards, sticking it "front over back" (think taco laying on its side, long edge facing you) and keeping it there for as long as I pleased. This won the acclaim of many grade school counterparts. I was one of only two kids in my entire school whom I knew could even come close to that trick. My crowing achievement in "tongue tricks arena" however was when I was in graduate school. Suffering from a serious sinus infection, one day I was scratching the back of my throat with my tongue when I accidentally swallowed my whole tongue (while driving a car I might add). Instantly I began gasping for breath, thinking this would be an inexplicable way to die! I could hear the officers asking my wife, "Just how long was he epileptic?" and her replying, "I don't know, he never shared that fact with me!"

Shocked nearly beyond recovery at the time, I finally had the presence of mind to reach my own finger back into my throat and boldly "rescue" myself. I thought, "I really have heard of people dying from this!" So... I did the most logical thing a 22-year-old guy would do and.... I did it again, only intentionally this time! Within a week, I could swallow my tongue (without the instinctive gag reflex kicking in) at will. What fun, I thought! Dry graduate school lectures would never be the same!!! I had another "trick" in the repertoire! Throughout the years since, it has served as a great "party gag" and in particular social settings I could have probably earned some extra spending money with that tongue trick -- which isn't really my point.

While I've spent years being aware of what "tricks" my physical tongue can accomplish, I'll confess I've not always appreciated the harm it can render as well. What mighty "fires" can be started by the "spark" of the tongue (see James 3:1-13).

When I think of the power of the human tongue it is surprising to me it doesn't get the attention it deserves. These days, both men and women pierce their tongues for various "decorator purposes." While people will install all kinds of interesting implements in their tongues, I wonder if we humans are equally aware of how "disguised" our tongues can be. The subtle veils of deception our tongues will garner often betray the true heart within. We may speak with "designer" tongues, but the language is as impostor as fake jewels.

Lately I've been working on my tongue, not to accomplish any more tricks, but merely trying to make it more presentable in the image of the Savior to whom I try to devote my days and nights. Consistency, accuracy, sensitivity, leniency are all things with which I'm trying to tame my tongue. If I get those things figured out, maybe my tongue will be more presentable and I won't have to rely on the "tricks" anymore.

How about you? How are you working on your tongue? If you are working on it, what are you discovering?

Distance

2007-07-16T21:59:00.001-07:00

Even casual or recreational writing is a demanding discipline. Time, energy, attention are stern taskmasters and must be respected and heeded appropriately. What is there to say when one refuses to submit the time, energy and attention to accomplish the task? Best to keep quiet, I suppose.

June 9 was the last date of entry to my blog. Obsessively moved at times by many things in my life, blogging had become one and yet I found myself growing scattered, weary and taxed for the time to devote to it. I also found myself drifting as with what words to choose. A hiatus was therefore in order.

If there were any who read this blog with frequency, my hunch is they have since moved on. If you are one of those and happen to find yourself returning to this particular entry, I apologize for the unexcused absence. Perhaps this cliche may suffice, "absence makes the heart grow fonder." I would want this to be the case, at least.

Some distance from the discipline of writing I believe has refreshed me. Who would want to read something of someone who feels as if they have little of nothing to say? Frequently, I read others who seem to write simply because they have to not because it is something which flows from within them. I have at times allowed my blogging to take time from my wife and children and even if there was content worth considering (and I hesitate to suggest there really was), at what price should it come? I have to wonder.

The distance over the past few weeks has been blessed. I'm prayerfully considering wading back into the blog water again. There are fascinating things happening in the world around me and perhaps these will stoke the flame to write a bit more. It is with anticipation the content will merit the return.

Thank you for reading. I'm humbled by your presence.

Peace be with you.

Winding Road Ahead

2007-06-09T11:12:00.000-07:00

Taking off for a few days of R&R (rubber and RPM's). Leaving tomorrow with a friend to do some serious motorcycling in the Ozarks and further parts unknown.

There is something about motorcycling that is different than traveling by any other vehicle. The inherent freedom of only two wheels, one rider is liberating alone. But then add in, not knowing where you are going to ride, where you'll sleep or where or what you'll eat and you have the formula for great fun, thrilling adventure and general all round relaxation. Riding this way in a visually amazing part of the world must be one of the great frontiers still available to 21st century man. 24 hours and counting down...

The "twistier" the road the better, with hopes of something good to eat and a hot shower at the other end of each day is calling my name. "Marco Polo and friend" with tales of adventure shall return. This always promises to be fun...

Ahhh... R&R on two wheels. For me, it personally doesn't get much better than this!

Your prayers are always appreciated.

So Much Beauty

2007-06-08T05:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday life was amazing at every turn. Following weeks of what seemed like nearly constant rain, the North Texas area this week has seen nothing but radiant sun, brilliantly blued skies and warming temperatures. Humidity rises each day to greet the dawn while the full of the day holds the promise of Creator continuing to sustain all created wonders of His hands.

For the fourth consecutive day, blessings rolled under my two wheels as I darted here and there on what has been an excessively transient week of ministry. Yesterday was virtually booked solid from hour upon hour upon hour. Rather than the usual tens of miles traveled typically from garage to office and back again, this week hundreds of miles have rolled under tires and up the odometer finding me on one church campus or another, zipping from one appointment to the next all while doing what avid motorcyclists live and love to do -- ride. This is a beauty than only a relative few can appreciate.

But yesterday... yesterday saw beauty culminate in a wonderful span of just a couple hours.

It might be Southern hospitality, the richness of the clay soil or maybe something in the water, but there is something about this place. Arguably more beautiful places exist, but there is something about North Texas. Upon my arrival here approximately two years ago I often heard of the Dallas Arboretum, but I had somehow avoided my first visit. However, like a distant voice calling out from behind a thick russet of foliage, something beckoned me to come. Not to merely "go there," but to "be in this place."

Through the gracious hospitality of a friend, an active member and volunteer, the blessing was mine to visit the beauty of the Dallas Arboretum. Walking through the established stone entrance was as if I entered into the arms of the Creator himself. This place embraced me as if to suggest "why has it taken you so long?" I wondered myself.

For two hours my friend and I walked, talked and absorbed breath-taking beauty. As Rich Mullins once wrote, "There's so much beauty around us for just two eyes to see, but everywhere I go, I'm looking..." I could have stayed... not for hours, but for days.

Slowing down long enough to hear the articulate language of the breeze hushing through the trees or to catch a bloom practicing its tethered dance before being released from its duty to surrender one life for another is beautiful. So much beauty... I will return, and none too soon.

Later brought a gathering to meet at our home as a band of Christ-followers eager to go deeper, farther, longer and more sincerely with the humble One. So much beauty, two eyes (and ears) surely can't take it all in.

Finally, finishing the night in a gathering of literally hundreds of "two-wheeled" types and their machines... beauty of a different variety to be sure and of a very specific audience, but so much beauty remains... beauty is so often and so much in the eye of the beholder, isn't it?

So much beauty...

Remembering to give thanks

2007-05-25T15:24:00.000-07:00

If you're like me, there has been more than one occasion when something you have spent considerable time praying for comes to fruition, but it is not until some time later you remember to give thanks for the very thing for which you so passionately sought the Lord.

Today... it has been raining off and on with steady frequency and some sessions with considerable volume in some cloud bursts. Several months ago we were under an official "drought" condition and I was among many I know who were persistent in asking God to "send His rain."

Over the past several months God has been faithful in bringing the rain on this land and we are very close to being "officially" out of the drought. Though I've been thankful with each storm we've seen, it struck me with a greater sense of urgency today to give thanks.

God is good, all the time, rain or shine.

Listening for Silence

2007-05-24T13:36:00.000-07:00

There is an old adage that proclaims, "Silence is golden" and to a large extent I believe it.

Sitting in a movie theater and having to endure "whispering" on the part of conversational viewers sitting nearby is always such an irritation. Or in the same context, having some clueless person not only allow their cellphone to ring aloud, but to answer that same phone ought to be grounds for expulsion or worse. "Silence is golden" when one is on the receiving end of the noise. But what about on the other end? As the noise producer, when is silence "golden?"

Have you ever known someone who simply talks "too much?" It is one thing to be aware of someones propensity toward verbosity, but to be self-differentiated enough to know when one is speaking too much themselves is quite another thing. That takes some real discipline and self-awareness.

What is it that drives one to speak more than necessary? Too often it is a function of a person simply loving the sound of their own voice a little too much. A subtle function of pride allows us to believe our words are simply that important that we must be heard. And yet, some of the most wise and helpful communicators I have experienced in my life have been people who were humble enough to appreciate that "silence is golden." They speak only when necessary and have the compelling ability to allow me to "talk my way" through things without monopolizing the dialogue. The biblical author James once wrote, "My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry..." (James 1:19).

I'm trying to better listen for my own silence and hoping that an increased desire for the humility of Christ will result in my silence being "golden" for those around me as well.

"He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before her shearer is silent,
so he did not open his mouth."
(Is. 53:7)

What Do You Expect? Part 2

2007-05-17T20:32:00.002-07:00

A couple of days ago, while sitting in S'Bucks for a planning meeting, I watched what was obviously a female "mentor" of four teenage girls. During the entire time I was in my meeting, they were in their meeting and occasionally they would capture my attention with giggles and laughter. Having given a large chunk of my life to the development of teenagers, the "mentor-Mom" had my honor as she was giving up her time and energy to lead these young women closer to Jesus (I saw the "mentor-Mom" had her Bible, a discussion guide book and the all-to-familiar look of a teen worker/volunteer).

Impressed by the girl's attentiveness to their leader's leading, I noticed they were about to pray close to the time my meeting was wrapping up. As they began to bow their heads for the prayer, one of the girls spotted a teenage boy approaching the door. While all the girls initially bowed their heads, slowly... one-by-one... each girl eventually left the attention of their leader's prayer and watched the boy walking into S'Bucks. They all recovered the "prayer posture" just about the time the leader said her "Amen." All's well that ends well, I guess! Or maybe not...

That image has stayed with me over the past couple days and I've been wondering "what did those teen girls expect from that moment of prayer?" I know the powerful draw of a "cute guy" for a 16 year-old-girl (I currently have one of those girls living in my own house), but is it powerful enough to take a young woman away from a conversation with the Creator of the universe? Perhaps. But maybe the girls are not altogether to blame. The issue may rest with the rest of us who have led them. Have we taught them to expect and anticipate being in the presence of God?

What do we really "expect" when we pray, when we worship or when we read Scripture? Do we really expect to be in the presence of the Almighty God? Do we really expect an encounter that may change our lives? If we do expect it, do we "anticipate" something will, in fact, happen as a result of being with God? My hunch is we are not as assured or as cognizant of it as we could be.

I know in the life of a 16-year-old girl, the attention of a teen boy can be the highlight of the day. But when I think of eternal life and the power of knowing God, I have to think we who are older need to take the responsibility for this one. For a teen girl to "diss" a boy for a moment of prayer, she's going to have to believe in the power of what she's doing and maybe we've simply not modeled expectation enough for them.

What do you think?

What Do You Expect?

2007-05-15T20:11:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, while sitting in the top row of an arena filled with over 16,000 adoring fans of a particular professional sports team, it struck me like a lightning bolt, I was in a "worship service!" While it wasn't your traditional "church service," it was still categorically worship. This professional event, for which people spent considerable amounts of money to attend, was the "worship" of the masses. Win or lose, people still came and paid (literally) homage to something (and in many cases someone) beyond themselves. 16,000 people were exalting an entity that was "bigger" than they ever will be. Few of those 16,000 knew any of the players personally, and yet they let their emotions soar in praise as they would call players by name. All 15,999 (I was too long gone in thought at this point to really actively participate) chanted mantras repetitively with expert precision, "Beat L.A." or "Aaaaaiiiir-ball...aaaaaiiiir-ball." It was an amazing thing to witness from my perspective, so high in the rafters of the "sanctuary."

There is something compelling about worship. Transcending form, worship is more about function and is something of a natural expression of the "created" for the "Creator." Worship can be suppressed with minimal effort but this does not reduce the reality that one day "every knee will bow and every tongue will confess" the reality that calls all of humanity to worship the Creator.

What is interesting to me is the quantifiable difference between "worshiping the profane" and "worshiping the Divine." While I can be as guilty as the next guy of rooting (I'd like to think not quite worshiping) my favorite team or athlete, no matter how hard I chant, or yell or sing or "praise" my favorite team, there is nothing substantive that changes in my life as a result of that experience. I am, in no direct way, transformed by the contemporary "worship" of the "arena mass." I may walk away pleased if my team wins, but I'm not changed (especially for the better). The guy who walked into the arena is the same guy who walks out of the arena (okay, I may be a pound or two heavier from all the junk food I've eaten and $100 or more poorer from all the money I've spent -- but other than that, my life remains unchanged).

Coming into the presence of the Divine is to be changed, transformed, to experience a metamorphosis. To worship "the King, all glorious above and gratefully sing His wonderful love" means as a result of His exaltation and glorification, I, a worshiper, am different as a direct result of the worship experience.

This is an important distinction from your "garden variety" (Madison Square Garden perhaps being one possibility) worship experience. There are numerous examples of people coming into the presence of the Divine and being changed. Are we one of them when we worship?

If we worship, but aren't changed, what is the reason? Maybe it has something to do with what we expect going into the experience?

More on that tomorrow...

The Death of Humility

2007-05-14T22:15:00.000-07:00

It was there in the beginning. But somehow along the way, it was lost. Like the mysteriously disappearing sock in the dryer, you put them both in there, but somehow only one returns! My drawer holds many of those and why I don't just throw them in the trash continues bewilder me. Maybe I'm waiting for some sort of redemption from beyond the sock world? Perhaps one of them will come wandering home like a lost puppy?

The very nature of being "created beings" elicits a response of humility. How can the "pot" tell the "potter" what it's intended purpose will be? Total and unabated reliance and dependence upon God was what the first man and woman must have enjoyed. God made the earth and the heavens and everything found in and upon them. It was perfection created and personified in the glory of God's presence. The crowning jewel of God's creative nature came forth in the form of dust and breath. Man became a created being in the very image of God. They would walk together in the cool of day, until one day only one of them showed up for the walk.

Among all the creatures of the earth, there was none suitable enough to be man's partner for life. And from man's own side, God tore a place in Adam's flesh, took out a rib and fashioned an even more outstanding creature (from the guy's point of view anyway!). She was "bone of bone and flesh of flesh." Imagine man's exuberance in feeling the pain but finally realizing the gain! For this reason future men would (and continue to) leave their parents and be united to a wife and they will become one flesh.

Together they were in the Garden. Everything could have remained so good, so right... but happy endings are not easily found, even in the Garden of Eden. "Made in the image of God" apparently wasn't sufficient. Man and woman simply desired more... more knowledge and more wisdom... more "like God" and less dependence and reliance upon Him. The Serpent said, "You will not surely die," and to a certain degree the crafty snake was correct. While man and woman didn't physically cease to be, something definitive died that day. The spiritual breath ran out at the end of innocence and with it, humility in its tracks.

Humility plays itself out in utter dependence upon God. But things changed that day. The "pains of childbirth increased" (guys know nothing about that kind of pain -- though I've heard gall stones are a good role play) and the men assumed provider responsibilities for the family that are sometimes debated even to this day. The guys went to work... "painfully toiling" in order to eat, sweating from the brow and eventually "returning to the dust" minus the breathing part.

Hoping that other sock might be found, several "singles" lie in wait in my second dresser drawer. Redemption for those seems hopeless at this point (some I've had for years). The redemption of humility is a much more certain find. The One through whom all was Created came back in the form of "breathing dust" to show us the way back to humility. He was in very nature God, yet He didn't consider equality with God to be something He should hold onto. Instead, He considered Himself "nothing" and took the very nature of a servant and though He looked like any other "Adam," He did what most "Adam's" can't (or won't) do and became obedient to death, even death on the cross. In this act alone, He redeemed humility and showed the rest of us how it is done.

Because of this, we was lifted up by the only One who could lift Him up and was given the name that one day will be bowed to by every "Adam" and "Eve" who have ever lived. To the glory of the Father, the "death of humility" will become the "redemption of humility" and some day things will be like they were in the very beginning.

No more missing socks.

"Humble yourselves before the Lord,
and he will lift you up."
(James 4:10)

Falling Off the Planet

2007-05-08T13:13:00.000-07:00

A little less than a week ago, my entire cyber-existence came to a screeching halt. While watching the NBA playoffs on the big screen and tracking stats and stuff on my laptop, something went seriously, tragically and terminally wrong. The very heart of my laptop stopped with a DNR toe-tag attached. The Dell was terminally phased.

While realizing this is an everyday occurrence in the life of most people exposed to the marvels of technology, fortunately for me this was the first time I've ever experienced the demise of a hard-drive. Coming on as suddenly as it did caused me to realize how "quickly life can change!" In the "twinkling of an eye" all can be right with the world and then suddenly all is wrong! One would think given my penchant for motorcycling, I would have a stronger awareness of such vulnerability.

Here I sit, nearly a week later after having fallen off the electronic planet. Cut-off from cyber-existence, the first 48 hours were the worst. I was like an addict craving his next hit. Sitting in my office I would turn to my side desk to send an email or Google search something and find myself reaching for a phantom computer. My connection to the outside world as vacant and void. I am here to testify it was downright horrible! "Am I that addicted and dependent on technology?" I queried. Painfully the reply was affirmative. But if I am so addicted, everyone else with whom I communicate frequently must be equally so! But that doesn't make it right.

I had to do some writing shortly after the disk's "funeral" and realized the patterned behavior of typing words rather than hand writing them has secretly crept into my creative process. Like a cold-turkey smoker leaving cigarettes behind, I found it difficult to find words using an old fashioned pen and paper. it was as if my mind has attached itself to the ends of my fingers. Has the sound of clicking keys and the glow of an LCD screen become that much a part of my creative landscape that it is difficult to create without it? Interesting, isn't it?

Through this electronic sabbatical, I also learned a fine lesson in the art of backing up documentation. Thanks to our excellent Minister of Technology and the computer support contractors working with our ministry group, all of my important data was saved. I did lose my list of "Favorites," but it was coming time to clear those out anyway. I'll consider the occasion a "Spring Cleaning" of sorts.

Many lessons learned in the past week to pass along: 1) Sometimes it is healthy to disengage from technology (my wife actually enjoyed spending time with me without a laptop sitting between us); 2) Human communication is actually enhanced when you have to get up, walk across the floor and talk face-to-face with someone; 3) If data is important enough to you, you'll make sure it is appropriately and intentionally backed up. If you don't back it up, it probably isn't that important to you; and finally, 4) Give thanks for the technology available to us. This is an increasingly amazing time to be alive.

Addicted or not, it is nice to be back on the planet!

Underdogs

2007-05-01T21:09:00.000-07:00

Laptop literally sitting on lap, I'm watching game five of the 2007 NBA playoffs featuring the Dallas Mavericks playing against the Golden State Warriors. With 8 minutes left, the score is tied 97-97 in what could be the last game of the season for the Mavs. What has made this series so amazing to watch is the alleged "distance" between these two teams. The Mavs are the #1 seed in the bracket having the best regular season record in franchise history, the Warriors are the #8 seed who made the playoffs on the last night of the regular season. Never before has a #1 seed lost a series to the #8 seed in the NBA playoffs history. It could happen tonight. At this second, the Warriors are now up by two points.

There is the usual Hollywood-type drama in tonight's game... former Mavs coach (Don Nelson) now facing his former assistant coach Avery Johnson. A list of well known Mav players facing a roster of relatively "unknown" Warrior players. A team that hasn't won a playoff series since something like the 1960's (the Warriors) going up against the team that only lost in the NBA finals last season (Dallas Mavericks). All that drama is there, of course. Warriors are now up by six points with less than four minutes remaining. It is getting tense and I'm tempted to just close the lid on this laptop.

What I realize watching the seconds peel off the clock is that I am the Golden State Warriors -- we all are really -- we are all "underdogs."

I love rooting for the underdog, though because of my current residency and having so many die-hard Maverick fans for friends, I'm inclined to want to see them win (though I quietly really pull for the Phoenix Suns). However, it is not unusual for me to root for the underdog in sporting events where I have no vested emotional interest because I relate to the underdog.

In the faith journey of all Christians, we have to see ourselves as the underdog. Considering our addictive tendency toward sin, our perpetual penchant to do the very thing we don't want to do and not do the very thing we ought to do (see what Paul has to say about it in Romans 7) we have to see that left to ourselves alone we are underdogs. We have no business shooting "lights out" in what is the most amazing "game" of history. But that is the difference Jesus makes. He is Light shining in the darkness where darkness should be winning!

Favorite and underdog, together, Jesus Christ gives the believer in Him the victory.

Do you know what the score is? No matter what the score board may say, Christ keeps his people in the game and we live to play again.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."
John 16:33

M&M-ology

2007-04-27T08:36:00.000-07:00

A busy week has precluded my being at the "blog" table much this week. But while we're on the most recent topic, how do you eat your "M's?"

There is something about eating M&M candies that prevents me from popping a whole bunch of them in my mouth and just chomping away. It would appear there is a refined art to eating M&M's like there is to eating sunflower seeds (another favorite baseball pastime of mine). In my opinion, one can't merely slam a handful of M&M's into their mouth and chomp away. There is a better way...

Take your "M" and greet the "M" (there is only one M on each piece) with a smile of recognition and appreciation. Acknowledge its specific color and shape (not all M's are created equal by the way and some are downright mutant (those are fun to eat) but all still pack that wonderful flavorful experience. While appreciating the color, there is no truth to the rumor that difference colors have a different taste. Blind taste tests will prove this point.

Now comes the exciting part... to crack an M between your teeth and accomplish a "perfect split" is the best experience in M consumption. A "perfect split" separates the shell right around the radius of the candy and splits the candy coated shell from the milk chocolate on the inside, thus a "perfect split." Now stick the tip of your tongue in that empty shell side and break it against the back of your front teeth. Notice all the little pieces. Fun!

Next hold the exposed milk chocolate side of the M open side down on your tongue and let the milk chocolate melt onto your tongue. This is better than drinking chocolate milk... creamy, yummy, good!

If the other side of the shell is still in tact after letting the mild chocolate melt (a rare occasion) crunch that thing into oblivion and reach for another candy. Repeat the process!

If I gave this much attention to the subtleties of my relationship with Christ, how different would my walk with Him be?

Oh, by the way, how do you eat your M's?

The "Perfect" Candy

2007-04-23T09:20:00.002-07:00

Never known for having much of a "sweet tooth," I can usually pass on most desserts or candies that come my way. I've taken a pass on some great looking cakes or other delicious delectables without much trouble. I'd love to say it is will-power, but it isn't. It is just that my palate doesn't beg for sweet stuff.

All my life though, I have enjoyed M&M candies. You know the slogan "melts in your mouth, not in your hand" (though that is a bit of a misnomer, because unless your hands are only slightly above the temperature of an ice cube, holding even a few for a moment will eventually result in a veritable "rainbow of color" in your hand). All-in-all however, I'm inclined to think M&M's may be the "perfect" candy. What can be better than rich milk chocolate surrounded by a hard candied shell? It is the best of both "candy worlds!" M&M's could possibly be the greatest candy ever created!

I ate so many packages of M&M's in high school, that a few people actually started called me "M" for short (thankfully that tag didn't stick). It was a rare day I didn't have at least one package in my possession and friends were always hitting me up "for some M's."I liked them because it was possible to "graze" on a package for most of the day (can't do that with your favorite candy bar). You could keep them in your bookbag and (if they didn't get exposed to heat) were "good to go" at a moment's notice. I also liked the fact that I could sneak them into my mouth even in classes where the instructor prohibited eating in class. That was always a bit of a challenge to see if I could get away with it. I'll generally take a good challenge.

M&M colors have stayed basically the same over the years (save the introduction of "blue" a few years ago) and there is a certain urban legend surrounding one other color in particular (I can neither confirm nor deny the veracity of the legend -- so let's leave it there). How many other candies can claim an "urban legend" surrounding it? That must account for something when it comes to being named the "perfect" candy, shouldn't it?

M&M's transcend all other candies because they have actually acquired certain existential qualities and status. Not only in addition to ordering specific colors or color combinations (a friend of mine once order thousands in a favorite sport team's colors), there is also "custom labeling" available so that now your M&M's can express your own personality (of course, it still has to fit on an M&M) and you can even create an M&M character to look like yourself. Click here to check it out! Does any other can have this kind of essence about it? That is status, baby! It has even been rumored scientists have located the M&M molecule! Snickers can't say that!

A few years ago, my Dad (a retired, but semi-professional woodworker) made a really ingenious wood and glass M&M dispenser. It now sits on my desk and I buy my M's by the pound (literally). All throughout the day, co-workers come by my office, say "hello" and then grab a few M's. The dispenser distributes a maximum of two per pull so it makes it easier to pace consumption. It is humorous, because I can always tell when someone comes by only for M's. People will say the lamest things to get to the "perfect candy!"

If I can go on about a simple candy which is realistically far from "perfect" (it only approaches perfection in my own opinion) imagine what can be said about the One who is, truly Perfect?

What is your "perfect" candy and what amazing thing about the Perfect One comes to your mind when you think about "perfection?"

"O praise the greatness of our God! He is the Rock, his works are perfect,
and all his ways are just."
(Deut. 32:4)

Pray the Paper

2007-04-19T14:29:00.000-07:00

As initially moved as I was regarding the Virginia Tech shootings, I have not been true to typical form. In the past, when nationally known tragedy has struck, I've been glued to broadcast mediums to soak in as much information as possible. The East-Asian Tsunamis, 9/11, Oklahoma City Bombing, etc. have always sparked a deep curiosity in me and I have spent considerable time seeking information to somehow cope with the devastation.

This week, I've not had the energy or been able to afford the time to pursue similar information on the tragic events of Monday. I only know the number of people killed, that the shooter was despondent and of Asian descent, that one of the victims was a holocaust survivor but was found perished in the shooting and that today the university announced all the victims would be conferred with posthumous honorary degrees. Beyond these few details, I have no knowledge of the facts. But I have nonetheless been deeply moved by this occurrence.

The one thing I've found I could do is pray. Why it seems many Christ-followers turn to prayer as a secondary resource (or later), I don't really know. I've always held the opinion that there is nothing more powerful or effectual a Christ-follow can do than to pray. To evoke the power of the Almighty on any given situation is nothing to be reduced to merely a rote exchange of patterned language. Prayer can be a "verbal wrestling" with the God of the universe and can bring not only understanding, but powerful change as well. I've experienced the incredible transformation prayer can bring (sometimes instantaneously) and find myself thrilled by it.

Not having even a list of victims, this week I simply numbered these souls 1 - 33 (yes, even the assailant -- and I figured God could understand which was which) and have been praying for these unfortunate persons, their families, loved ones and classmates that the peace of Christ might dwell with their hurting souls.

Though it has been a long week for me, my week has been nothing in comparison to the fatigue and weariness the survivors must be experiencing. This week I'm strangely energized by this discipline of "praying the paper" (though I've not even taken the time to read the paper). I feel more productive in this discipline of prayer than merely knowing facts and recounting endless video loops on CNN or network news. Each time I see a flag at half-staff, I'm moved not only to mourn, but to continue praying. I've partnered with this event in a way substantially different than in the past.

If you were to "pray the paper" in today's daily, in what section would you begin praying?

Senseless and Wordless

2007-04-16T21:33:00.000-07:00

Today our country witnessed the worse single incident shooting attack in its history. On the campus of Virginia Tech, some 32 people's lives were cut short at the hand of an apparently crazed gunman who then took his own life. It is a senseless tragedy. How can one explain something so mindlessly barbaric?

I am deeply saddened and prayerful for dozens of parents, spouses and friends who's day began like any other and ended like no other.

God bless those who grieve, mourn and wail. Though my tears have yet to fall on your behalf, I believe they will. Until then, I'm wordless.

Peace of Christ be with you.

Cool Spaces

2007-04-13T08:41:00.000-07:00

It seems to me the longer God blesses each of us to live, the more we begin to appreciate the "little" things in life. The smile of a stranger, the scent of a bloom as we pass by, the first sip of a good cup of coffee or the gentle hug of a loved one. These "little" things are what seasons our life with beauty, blessings and joy.

One of the things I have come to really appreciate in the past few years has been "space." Not the "final frontier, to boldly go where no man has gone before variety" (though that really fascinates me and can consume a significant chunk of reading or net-surfing time for me), but the "living spaces" my life encounters.

I've been affective about my space for as long as I can remember. I recall the frequent times during my childhood when my mother would come into my bedroom and just "hang out" for a while because she simply "liked the space." The right lighting (ask my patient wife how crazy I am about lighting in our home -- it is the first thing that has be to "right" whenever we move into a new space and I'm always adjusting dimmers to "fit the mood") the aromas, the sounds all contribute to a space being "right" for me.

Some of my favorite spaces are out in creation, but living in a major metropolitan center, that is not always an easy thing to find. Therefore, I find myself finding "new interior spaces" that speak to me and bring meaning into my life. I have several but don't like to advertise them much due to their relative vulnerability at becoming something other than what they are for me.

As I write this entry today, I'm sitting in one of those spaces. Sitting in a dark corner, upstairs in a loft, I have retreated here for a great cup of coffee and in search of some creativity. There is something amazing about "space" in that it can either work against you or for you in any given moment. Today, this space is working for me and I have a wonderful sense of energy from it (of course, that might be the coffee, too).

The thought of going into the office with our current construction noises (we are in the home-stretch of a major facilities renovation), epoxy fumes, phones ringing, doors knocking and emails pinging (though in this space I do have the benefit of free Internet access -- how cool is that?) to get some of the day's deadlines met, I simply felt I had to seek some solace and proper space.

I think Jesus must have had the same need. In Gethsemane he went away to experience what would be the deepest moment of encounter with His Father He would ever face and it was apparently a pattern of his behavior to seek "solitary places" (Mark 1:35) where He prayed and restored Himself.

Today, I'll share a photo of this space I'm enjoying and give praise to God for all my "spaces" and for the power they hold in my life. This has been an incredibly productive and creative hour I've spent in this "space" and my hope is that if you don't have special "space" (or spaces) in your life, you will begin seeking it/them and allow it/them to bless your life in significant ways.

Peace and productivity be yours in the One who created space and may you "boldly go where no one has gone before."

Where You're Coming From

2007-04-12T03:02:00.000-07:00

It has seemingly always been my fortunate circumstance to have been in churches where "recovery" (though we didn't always call it that) was a theme. Many people had a story of finding Jesus that was fairly dramatic and emotionally persuasive. Recovery from drugs, sexual exploits or other life abuse was a common occurrence to my recollection and I was always compelled by how moving these stories of life-recovery were.

Early in my college career, I remember one particular person "recovering" from significant life abuse and finding "new life" in Jesus with whom I became particularly close. We grew beyond typical casual acquaintance and conversations to begin sharing some of the "secrets" both of and to living life. I was always impressed with how clarified his story was and how emotionally compelling I found it. I was frequently moved to hear of how God had "saved him" from his own selfish destruction and I sometimes felt my own story was a bit "flat" and, honestly, a bit boring.

One day I confessed to him how I wished that the story of my own faith journey was as emotionally compelling, dramatic and as convincing as his. It was then that he shared something that has stayed with me through the decades. He said, "You are so fortunate... you've been in church since you were six weeks old. You had parents that not only taught you how to pray, but also listened to you pray. Your meals were family occasions where people shared life and love. You had a community of faith who looked out for you and cared if you knew Christ or not. You had Christian friends who walked in faith with you and picked you up when you fell down. And do you know what? From my point of view, that is an amazing testimony and I'd would trade for that story in an instant!" I was shocked at the persuasion of my own story as it came from the mouth of someone else and realized the reality of things really came down to a matter of perspective.

While lamenting my own lack of "dramatic testimony," this relatively new follower of Christ caused me to realize where I was coming from also "had some teeth" as well. It is an amazing thing when people are fortunate enough to find Jesus at a very young age. That day I came to know that we all have a story and it doesn't have to be a "Hollywood drama" to have validity and power. I guess it just depends on where you're coming from.

Sadly and regretfully, since that time so many years ago, I've managed to add some drama to my own faith adventure that I'd rather take back and "do over again" if I had the opportunity. In my own form of spiritual "recovery" I see God taking my mistakes and failures and making some Good News out of it through the grace of Christ and I can how see how my scars are being a blessing to the life of others. But the roots of my story still speak as well and if not for others, it still speaks a powerful testimony for my own life. I have been very fortunate and so richly blessed.

I guess it just depends on where you're coming from.

So where are you coming from? What is your story? The longer I live, the more I realize every story is amazing in itself and God's love is an amazing thing as well.

Trim the Wick

2007-04-10T14:18:00.000-07:00

At what point candles moved from the center stage as light source to the center stage of affective aesthetics, I don't know but either way I am all about having candles in my world. You will find them in my office (both at home and on the church campus) in the bath, in the kitchen, in the bedroom. I buy them for my wife, I buy them for friends, I have several "stored" around just because you can't beat a good candle! There is just something "cool" and yet "warm" at the same time about them. Candles make my world just a little bit nicer (Currently burning: Candy Corn combined with French Vanilla. Yeah... my office smells like a bakery and I'm getting hungry!).

Like the old song lyric "I was country, when country wasn't cool" I feel like I was "into candles before candles were cool." I have burned candles since I was a kid. When I was young, I'd make my own candles with the guys across the street. We bought white wax and then melted Crayola Crayons to make the colors. We made "sand candles" and all kinds of cool things and thankfully, we never burned a house down. When I was a teen, I would light my candles and play guitar in the dim candle light for hours (yes... I had some "hippie" in me and I guess I still do).

Now, candles are all the rage! I have five acquaintances (no exaggeration here) who are in the candle business in some form or fashion. Two of those people run full-blown (pardon the pun) candle stores (full-time) and two others run their business out of the home on a part-time basis. That will explain just how popular candles have become in the public marketplace in the last few years. It is amazing, really. I have even thought about getting into the game myself if for no other reason than to simply save money on my own candles!

It is likely that I have a candle burning in my life (if I am stationary long enough) on any given day. There is just something peaceful about them. The warmth, the aroma, the light... it is a fairly compelling experience, really. Calming, serene, placid... somehow they tend to help keep me "grounded" in the midst of an otherwise chaotic existence.

The other day I lit a candle in my office and from a relatively small candle came a rather significant flame. Reaching well above the rim of the glass jar, I expected it to "adjust itself" in a matter of a few seconds. But it didn't. The flame just kept raging like some kind of towering inferno! Making a loud "pop" a couple of times gave me enough pause that it might become a hazard (as if a concealed flame is ever NOT a potential hazard -- the outer core (blue color) of a candle flame burns at approximately 2550 degrees Fahrenheit -- that's hot!!! And if you don't think candles are important, even NASA has studied the effects of weightlessness on open candle flames -- insert the collective audio "ooo-ahh" here).

As the flame rose to about 4 inches above the candle surface, I finally blew it out. Looking into the now blackened candle jar, it was then I realized how tall the wick was and how much "fuel" had gathered into to top of it (someone should write a book on "candleology" for there is much to know about candle maintenance and how to get the most life and efficiency out of your candles). The wick had grown too tall and wasn't managing the fuel available to it in the most efficient manner. So, it was time to "trim the wick."

True to my candle-lover status, I used one of my "uber-cool" 90 degree angled wick trimmers and within a few seconds had the wick and subsequent flame back under control and burning at optimum efficiency (trim to 1/4 inch with about a 45 degree angle in the wick -- it works well) and it got me thinking about how many times God has to effectively "trim my wick."

With so much busyness in my life, sometimes I feel like I'm running "Mach II with my hair on fire." Like a candle out of control, I'm giving off a big flame and putting out a mess of heat, but it may not be terribly efficient and might be smoking up the sides of the glass! Under those conditions, I recognize that I tend to "flame out" in short order and wonder why I don't feel fulfilled in my life.

My experience is that God is a gracious and merciful "wick trimmer." If you submit to His care, He will trim you into an efficient flame that will work in a way that may be more efficient than you could imagine and may just give off some pleasing aromas as well.

Is it time to ask God to "trim your wick" before you flame out?

"You are the light of the world... let your light shine before men,
that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."
Matt. 5:13, 16

"For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved
and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other,
the fragrance of life."
2 Cor. 2:15-16

Power of Rising

2007-04-09T09:28:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was an amazing day for my home church. In a span of time covering four separate worship services, over 1,800 people came together to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the grave. The singing was great, the sermon was great, the brunch buffet and fellowship was great, all the kids hunting for over 8,000 Easter eggs was great... but there was something more.

Having been in ministry for a long time and attended and led more Easter worship services than I can remember, but yesterday brought a new quality for me. It was something deep within my spirit -- a longing that was touched in a new way. Could it be the power of rising?

The apostle Paul once wrote, "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death..." (Phil. 3:10). Having read that passage thousands of times, preached or taught it hundreds of times, I'm beginning to wonder if I've ever really understood what Paul meant when he wrote it. Have I ever really been close to that power, the power that takes Jesus out of the grave? What would it be like to somehow live in that power on a daily basis. Could this have been what Paul was seeking? I hear him differently know. I hear his "wanting" in a way I haven't before.

To live life under the restriction of merely human power is so limited. Even those who claim to know Christ and believe in him as the Risen Savior try to live life and fight sinful tendency with human power. We pursue righteousness with human will, rather than accessing the spiritual power that brought Christ from the grave. There must be a deeper power that does not come from within, but comes from "beyond" and makes us the people of the resurrection. As the same author said to the Christians in Corinth, "if only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men" (1 Cor. 15:19).

Yesterday, something deeply touched me. It didn't come from a specific spoken word, or song or prayer. It was more a sense of "being" -- an awareness that something (or Someone) was so near and so powerful that I actually could feel Him near. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if perhaps I was getting just a little bit closer to what Paul was writing about. Like Paul, I want to know it and share in it, so that I might become something (or someone) more than I have been.

I want to know Christ and the power of rising...

Laughter and Good Company

2007-04-05T20:10:00.000-07:00

Today is Thursday a day many reference as Holy Thursday. It is the day before Good Friday, the day of Christ's crucifixion. What (theologically speaking) is a sullen point in the week, has most Christ-followers thinking about the incredible sacrifice the Christ made for those the Father loves. In the following 24 hours, the Savior of the world will be betrayed, sold out, denied, scorned, beaten, mocked, crucified, run-through with a spear, buried and left for dead (permanently). From a spiritual point of view, it is a day of reverent preparation for what could have been a very dark day for humanity. Yes, today may be Holy Thursday, but as the old preacher once said, "It's Friday, but Sunday's a comin'!"

There is inherent joy, hope and even laughter because of the resurrection of Jesus. The "old has gone, the new has come" and we have been brought "from death to life" all because Jesus Christ rose from the dead! This is the biggest event in the Christian calendar and we are right and proper for making a "big deal" out of it! Without Easter Sunday, the other Sundays of the year just wouldn't make much sense (other than maybe sleeping in, mowing lawns or playing golf)! But because Christ rose from the grave on this coming Sunday... everything changes!

For those who perhaps have never worked in a church or been around the planning of Easter, it is likely the most hectic time of the year for those in full-time (paid) ministry. Attendance is significantly higher at Easter services than at any other time of the year (save Christmas) and the stress to "do things right" can loom large for any church ministry team. Considering church attendance for some is restricted to this day and maybe Christmas, putting the best expression of the resurrection of Christ and of the community of faith before all in attendance is priority one!

This year, our church is moving from our usual 2 service format to 4 services! We are serving brunch for all those who attend, offering two enormous Easter Egg Hunts for our children and their friends and all of this in the middle of a huge remodeling of our current facility. Especially with so many variables and things to consider, it can be a long stint getting ready to celebrate Resurrection Sunday (though technically Christ-followers celebrate the resurrection every Sunday of the year).

Today, our third floor offices were "humming" with activity. Every minister and staff member were busy taking care of all their assigned responsibilities and concerns. Even decisions that had been made earlier in the week were being "undone" and "reordered" at the last minute to get things "just right." But amid all that chaos and possible stress, this week I have heard more laughter and joy from the team with whom I am blessed to serve that I hear during most weeks. It is almost as if, in the midst of our busiest week, we have even more joy. Could it be that tomorrow really is "Friday, but Sunday's a comin'?" Somehow, I think that has something to do with it.

I am privileged to work with an absolutely incredible (no exaggeration, here) group of people. Talented, creative, hard-working and fun loving, it is a sad thing that more people are not as blessed to work with the caliber of people with whom I am blessed to serve. At times I must confess, I even feel guilty because I know other ministers who "kill themselves" (almost literally) in churches much different from the one in which I serve. Why am I so blessed to work with these great people? I can't fully answer that, but I can tell you why our team is so great. It is because each person consciously lives resurrection!

At the most stressful and busiest time of the year, our team is focused on the fact that we "can do all things through Christ who gives us strength" and we live it out together, in authentic community of faith and service.

So we laugh and enjoy each other's good company during the most demanding week of the year, because Jesus Christ is ALIVE and well and it is only a matter of our Father's time before Christ will return and take us home to be with Him forever, where there will be no tears and joy will know no end. Praise be to God for the power of the resurrection of Christ!

Happy Easter to all who believe!

Spring of Life

2007-04-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

Having lived most of my years either in a climate that is perpetually green (southern California) or perpetually "brown" (central Arizona), living in the dynamic climate of northern Texas has brought new appreciation for the regenerative quality of nature.

Following winter's chill and resultant tan (dormant) grass, grey-barked leafless trees and bloomless flowers, it is a fascination of nature to "watch the world come back to life" (even at the expense of an over abundance of weeds). The grasses are green, the trees are leafing and the bluebonnets have sprung to life in a magnificent array of color in random patches across the landscape. Hope springs to life -- what once was a colorless void is now full of brilliance and beauty. Birds have returned to nesting, insects are doing whatever insects do (just try and guess how many mosquito bites I have from last night's softball games) and things just seem... "better."

This week is an amazing week in the Christian calendar. The week leading up to Resurrection Sunday is a week of transformative power transcending space and time. The days leading to the Cross were like the usherance of winter... a slowing down towards what appeared to be permanent dormancy. At the Cross, it was as if the world and time stood still. All the followers of Christ seemed to fall away like the last leafs of a great Red Oak until there were only three remaining at the foot of the Cross. Was all lost? It appeared as much, but then Sunday came!

With a rush of power beyond that which anyone can imagine, life broke forth from the grave and True Life was made abundant to all who believe. Beauty came forth as does life from all the bare dryness and dormancy of the soul's winter and burst forth into new life -- the old has gone, the new has come! It was the Spring of Life that reigns forever more!

Synergy

2007-03-27T19:26:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning, my older daughter cast as the female lead, will compete in her first UIL competitive drama one-act stage performance. The excitement around the house tonight is noticeable in the cadence of conversation and there is much energy for tomorrow might bring.

While we are beginning to grow accustomed to seeing her on stage (this is her fourth stage production this year), the thing I am finding most exciting for her is her experiencing the power of people working together.

Coming home from rehearsal the other night she was beside herself with excitement at the "synergy" she had experienced with her fellow cast members. While the other productions have been good, this one, because of the relatively small number of cast members and the intensity of rehearsals, has really bonded the cast and built an impressive amount of cohesion as a performing unit. Following rehearsal the other night, I think my daughter was surprised by how powerful synergy can be.

By definition, synergy (or synergism) (from the Greek synergos, συνεργός meaning "working together") refers to the phenomenon in which two or more discrete influences or agents acting together create an effect greater than that predicted by knowing only the separate effects of the individual agents. It is originally a scientific term.

Even in her struggling to find words to describe what she experienced, I shared with her a few times I have experienced the same thing. Performing with various music groups, creative teams and ministry experiences, I have been privileged to experience "synergy" with some frequency.

Today, several on our ministry team met to consider a new way of fulfilling our ministry at the church we serve. Utilizing a collaborative creative plan, we are considering how several people can be utilized to speak into the "game plan" and develop the creative "look" of the curriculum, lessons and sermons, rather than simply working in relative isolation (what we have referred to as "silo work"). Today became a highly synergistic environment and we haven't even started. That kind of experience gives me an incredible amount of energy. I'm very hopeful we will adopt this method of creative design.

I'm curious, what experiences you've had with synergy?

While I love the power of music and the solace that comes with making music alone and while I love ministry and seeing God do things way "beyond the human realm," when teaching or preaching, the thing I love the most about either one of those ventures is synergy -- getting to work with others doing some of the things I love. When God brings "discrete agents" together in proximity to accomplish His plans... there is nothing better than that!

As my daughter has experienced for the first time, and hopefully not the last, I hope to share many more experiences with her and continue to testify to God's amazing creative power!

Slowing Down

2007-03-24T04:54:00.000-07:00

Undeniably speed (as in velocity, not narcotic) is one of my favorite things. The sensation of going fast in virtually any form has an addictive quality for me that it might as well be narcotic. There is something about feeling my body moving against gravity and air that makes me never feel like fast is fast enough.

I suppose the fastest I've ever gone is in an airplane, but the trouble with that is in a pressurized tube at 35,000 feet in the air, there are not enough significant points of reference to appreciate the speeds in excess of 350 mph. The ground is visually too far away, the air is locked away (for obvious reasons -- you can't exactly stick your arm out the window like you did as a little kid in the car with your Dad driving and feel the wind against it) and "fast" just never really feels "fast" unless you're on take-off or approaching landing.

I have many memories of speed experiences of which I'll reserve the actual speeds for some of those occasions on the grounds it might incriminate me. But... 58 mph on a racing bicycle in the peleton while descending a mountain pass during a particular road race in central California was a thrill. That kind of speed on such narrow race tires is exhilarating. With nothing between you and the pavement but Lycra shorts and an "egg carton" on your head, the thrill is in what you don't want to happen as much as what is happening!

Sliding down the face of 12 to 15 foot waves on a "big" day on a southern California shore break was memorable speed, though I would have no idea how fast I was going, but it felt fast to be sure. Skateboarding down a long hill seemed really fast, but again, speed is somewhat relative to the conditions. There have been some amusement park rides that have good speed to them, but they typically don't last long enough. Many years ago on Lake Havasu in a friend's super-charged 21 foot Miller ski boat we went fast... maybe 80 mph on the water ... that may not seem fast to you, but speed always feels faster on water than on land. And then there are the numerous car and motorcycle experiences... suffice to say, fast is "fast" (here is the potentially incriminating part, so we'll just leave it at that) and if there are legal limits to speed, there are also mechanical limits as well.

As I grow older and hopefully a bit wiser, I now don't take the chances (both legally or physically) I once did when it comes to speed, but I can't recall ever being truly afraid of speed. I have a friend who is a fellow motorcyclist and while he loves motorcycling, he doesn't care much for speed. He has a "limit" that he just doesn't cross. I'm wondering, if given all the necessary safety precautions, there is a speed for me that would be too fast? I've often thought given the chance, I'd be a candidate to set a land speed record because speed just doesn't bother me. Where my friend says he just "disconnects" with speed, I'm just beginning to get plugged in.

Lest I leave the impression that I'm either reckless or irresponsible, I might inform you that the only speeding ticket I've ever received was last year going 25 mph in a 20 mph school zone that I didn't even know I was in! In fact, at the time, I was proud of myself for thinking I was actually driving 5 mph UNDER the speed limit! Well, "pride goeth before the fall."

The one place I'm finding speed to not be so exhilarating is in the pace of life. Right now things are happening very quickly around me and, more than ever in my life, I'm finding the need to slow down almost to a stop. Speed is addictive and running high speeds at the pace of life, there is a "limit" where we can just be going too fast.

Yesterday, I took some time to simply sit and be quiet. I wasn't praying, I wasn't meditating, I wasn't reading Scripture... I just slowed down and "idled" for a while. I listened to the late morning silence of the wonderful neighborhood in which I live. I heard the birds, felt the slow gentle breeze against my skin, watched the trees sway against the push and pull of nature and felt a nearly forgotten rush of simply being still...

"Be still, and know that I am God"
Ps. 46:10

If you are moving too fast, don't forget to slow down occasionally.

Attuned

2007-03-20T15:51:00.000-07:00

Call me weird (I'm sure many people do), but I have fantasies about spiritual stuff. Nothing way out of the ordinary in one regard (like I don't imagine what it might be like to levitate or enter another creatures body or anything of that nature), but I do have curiosities about things like what walks through a forest with Jesus might be like, or what experiencing a miracle like the feeding of thousands would do for my courage or what it would be like to hear God's voice as if I had my own set of divine headphones (now there is a headphone Bose might invent that I'd be willing to spend a few hundred dollars on). Those kinds of fantasies could occupy much of my thought if I allowed it.

One of my spiritual fantasies is to have an entire day fully scripted by the Creator from beginning to end. Imagine what it would be like to awaken to the Father's voice instead of that clock radio! Mine is set on a Christian radio station and on one occasion a verse from the Bible was being read when the alarm went off and I thought that was cool. I instantly began that day with God's word on my mind. But, what if it was God's voice that opened your day, every day? Would the snooze button have the same appeal if it were God blessing you awake, instead of the local report of weather, road closures and traffic tie-ups?

And what if after your shower, Jesus would arrive (already pure and holy) and you and the Lord sat down together and went through the day's schedule? God would have the day perfectly timed for maximum efficiency and productivity. Wouldn't it be great to have a Holy Spirit "secretary" leading through each appointment and obligation? Though I want to imagine this and more, I find it difficult to dream of how much I'd get done in a day if God were in totally charge of my schedule. How wonderful would that be?

How persuasive do you think you could be in that negotiations meeting if Jesus quietly spoke into your ear every time you needed a response to the other person's comment. Imagine having the foreknowledge and prompting of One who knows what the other person will say even before they know! Before a single word was on their lips, you would not only know what the word would be, but you would also discern the motive behind it. Wouldn't that be great? People would think you were so wise or shrewd and yet you would know where the prompt originated, wouldn't you? It would be difficult to take any credit or receive a compliment in the matter because you would know it was something quite beyond you making it happen.

Solutions today for tomorrow's problems wouldn't be an issue either because God's wisdom would preclude every decision. God would be advising what action now will yield the greatest outcome over time. It would be an amazing working relationship, wouldn't it? There is no telling how productive that day would be, the effects of which might last for years and years.

At the close of the day, it would be fun just to stop and simply reminisce together about all the things you'd accomplished. To marvel at the productivity, to laugh at the way all things worked together for good, to share in all the relational victories would be a great way to end the day, don't you think?

Yes, that is quite a fantasy I must confess. But I must also admit I believe the distance between spiritual fantasy and spiritual reality is often separated by only a very thin line. It is a line of faith and discipline that we are sometimes too weak and often too afraid to cross. The problem is never with God's ability to deliver, but in our inability to receive it.

What spiritual fantasy might you imagine? Would your dream be for God's glory or for your own reward? Would it allow you to become less of yourself and more of what He wants you to be? Do you believe given the opportunity, you would have the faith to live your spiritual fantasy out?

How attuned to God do you really want to be? How many of your spiritual fantasies are only a thin line from becoming a spiritual reality?

Anticipation

2007-03-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

I spent a nice afternoon on the golf course today with one of my closest friends. A "third" joined us and it was an interesting experience really. Inviting himself to play with us did seem to be beyond him as he dropped atomic hints to the effect before the first tee.

I'll admit, playing with someone else simply wasn't high on my priority list today. In fact, I'll confess I was being a bit selfish and just didn't want him to tag along. But my friend, ever the hospitable Southern gentlemen, invited the "single" (both literal and in golf terminologies) to play along with us. So consequently "Moe" (not his real name) was riding solo in the "lonely cart."

All three of us hitting strong down the middle off the first tee was a great experience though I could tell instantly that "Moe the Single" was going to be an interesting character. Golfers know the tactics of a golf snob who is just insecure enough with his game as to be completely obnoxious in his golf etiquette and demeanor (all golfers have admittedly "been there and done that") and Moe was certainly no exception. If his game was "off" today, it certainly wasn't going to speak for itself... he would do the talking for it!

After all of us hitting good drives off the first tee (which always sets the tone for a good round as recovering an entire round from even a lousy first tee shot is at times seemingly impossible) there was a general sense of anticipation in the air. I had not picked up a golf club in something like five months and was happy to simply be on a course and hitting to where I could still see the ball! Woo-hoo... call my day a victory already!

Now, without even the benefit of one practice shot on the range, finding myself "safe and in play" on the first swing only set a great mental stage for my round. I was loose, relaxed and having fun. There is just something about merely being on the course that sets everything "right" in the mind of a golfer, especially if he hasn't played in some time. Sometimes it takes years to get to that mental place, but once arrived, the mental view from that vista is blissful and it is a meaningful destination from which one never wants to depart (yes, there is likely some form of "Zen" in there somewhere).

Play was consistent and steady through the first couple of holes and then Moe blew a shot off the third tee -- dribbling barely past the ladies' tee. As if scripted well in advance like an actor on book, out came the first in a litany of excuses and the "I'm just not having a good round" commentary. Clearly Moe's intention was to passively let my friend and I know he was a much "better" golfer than today's round would surely indicate. He seemed to go to painstaking lengths to inform us by the way and frankly, I didn't much care... I just wanted to enjoy a few golf shots and some time out with my friend. Funny how one can play better golf when the anticipation is merely to relax and have a good time. The more golfers anticipate good play (especially as hack amateurs such as we are) it seems the worse the result! This was certainly the case for our new companion Moe! "Visualize the shot... be the shot...take the shot...curse the shot..." was pretty much Moe's M.O.

Ten years divorced (we found this out on the 11th tee) and showing signs of significant loneliness in his life, Moe must have been well experienced and quite comfortable in the fine art of "self talk" because he did a considerable amount of it. All day long, he would just come "off the wall" with some of the most random comments either about his game, his health or his financial situation. I'm thinking if money is a real issue here, perhaps golf is not the wisest of investments? Nonetheless, I began to feel quite sorry of the guy, but his social demeanor was so offset and apparently even volatile at times (my friend and I concluded "anger issues" by the 15th tee) he seemed unapproachable to me and I was still trying to preserve my "good time" outing.

Lest we miss the point here... I anticipated merely a good time with my friend and a nice day on the golf course. I got both and for not having played in over five months, I was pleased with my score. I can only assume Moe clearly anticipated shooting the "round of his life" and I'm fairly confident he fell, well, considerably short of his goal. That for which he anticipated was not to be realized today. I'm thinking he drove home in less than a good mood which is pretty sorry for a lonely guy. I wonder if he anticipated that before he left? It might have been a better day had he simply stayed home.

Oh... and while we're considering anticipation... on the ninth fairway, several kids stood next to a back yard pool soaked to the bone and shivering with towels draped around them in the low 60 degree wind-chilled weather. Though it is still a little early to be frolicking in a non-heated swimming pool, these kids were clearly proclaiming their anticipation of Summer's arrival. I loved it! Only a child has the intestinal drive to "will in the new season" by diving into a chilly North Texas pool of water in the middle of March! Ah, the power of anticipation is a glorious thing! It can bring joy and wonderful times, or simply fill your day with sadness and frustration.

So I'm a bit curious... what are you anticipating today and how does that anticipation influence your current disposition?

FORE!!!

Watching Them Watch Him

2007-03-15T14:38:00.000-07:00

They had no clue they were being watched. Its not that I was all that stealth in my observations, its just that at their age they are largely oblivious to any attention being given them that doesn't directly result in some form of recognition or aggrandizement. Most boys in their early teens come by it honestly, however. I know I certainly did and the residue lasted well beyond my teen years.

They congregated at the gym before he arrived. Arriving in pairs, with one solitary young man showing up on his own, it was apparent they were waiting for something or someone. Totalling five in number, they were an apparently good looking bunch of guys (on this, I'm not certain as my teenage daughters often inform me I have largely divergent opinions from theirs as to who is "hot" and who is "not"). Some teen girls seemed to notice them even before I did so I'm guessing they were closer to "hot" that I would have given them credit for.

Half way through my lat pull-downs, one young man started clapping his hands together very slowly. His gaze clearly fixed on someone beyond me and to my back, I didn't turn around until another teen joined in the disruptive rhythmic cadence. Suddenly all five boys were standing and clapping loudly, increasing in tempo with each beat. What began quietly was now a nearly deafening applause filling the entire space of the gym. Then I saw him. A good-looking guy (much closer to my own generation therefore lending credibility to my own judgement, I suppose) in his early 30's if I were to estimate.

Hugging each teen with some kind of a preestablished routine: hug with the right fist clenched, bang the other guy's back three times and then while backing away from each other, lift your right fist, palm forward and right elbow at 90 degrees straight toward the roof, the new arrival greeted each boy intentionally. Every one of them knew the routine and not a single one missed a beat. It was clearly male bonding at its core.

It was then I noticed a couple T-shirts and silk screened images on the teens. Not a single shirt the same, though several included verses of Scripture or Christian symbolism. In an instant, I realized I was looking at myself from a decade or more before. This moment was in the present, but the reflection in life's mirror was me and a crew of "my boys" from my era in youth ministry. Fond memories swept over me and a short prayer of thanksgiving for a time and gone by was on my lips. Those were very special times for me and my crew.

Two more sets on the lat pull-down machine and I was on my way to working biceps. Not my most favorite muscle group to work to be sure, so it was nice to have something (or someone) to serve as a bit of distraction.

Obvious to me now, I was watching a youth minister hang out with some of his boys. I watched with a different view and a more informed eye. So many familiar things came back to me. The banter, the good natured kidding, the masculine one-upsmanship... this was most definitely a youth minister working out with some of his more athletic boys during their spring break. There was no doubt about it!

Then I saw a glimpse of something I'd never witnessed before from this vantage point. I caught those young teenage men in the very act and I was sobered to the very core of my being. I began watching how they watched him. The youth minister likely didn't even have the awareness or the distance of space and time to catch a glimpse of it, but I saw it as clear as day and felt the weight of it as much as the 60 lb curling bar I was lifting for my fourth and final set. These teens hung on every word this guy spoke and watched his every move.

In less obvious ways, they were modeling him. Standing around him, listening to his stories, hanging even onto his vocal inflection, the degree of respect and honor these young men have for their spiritual leader was bold as life itself.

I had to resist from approaching the honored leader and saying something -- simply calling his attention to it would have been fairly presumptuous on my part and may simply have indicated something he already knew. So my resolve was to rather pray that God protect this leader's integrity and increase the power of his positive influence in the life of these students and the others in his care.

i had a view into the power of leadership and the magnitude of God working through a human soul. It was then that I also realized the power of the Cross in a life surrendered to it. As others watch a Christ-follower they will be watching them, watching Him, the Christ, and that is something amazing to see.

What influence of the Cross have you recently seen in someone's life?

"Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ"
(1 Cor. 11:1)

Goodness

2007-03-14T16:43:00.000-07:00

This week in my faith walk has been filled with clarity on just how truly good God is. Taking what appears in the moment to be a really bad circumstance and routing it for the good is one of the things I love most about watching God be God.

When one feels as if they are at the end of their rope, there is a deliverance for those who trust in the power of the Creator to recreate life in the midst of dire circumstances. It is a divine equation factoring what is at times the worst of humanity with the absolute best in Divine Goodness resulting in something beyond human comprehension. Goodness of this sort is so, I don't know, incredibly "good."

"How can anything good come from this?" is the anthem of the distressed. "I can't believe things could be this good!" is the song of the redeemed.

If you've not taken notice yet this week, look around your own life and in the lives of other people around you and notice the goodness of the One who is Good. God is working all around us and it is fascinating and faith building to watch God be God for I've come to know God is Good, all the time!

What have you seen this week?

Simply Amazing

2007-03-13T12:25:00.000-07:00

One of the things that has always drawn me to adventure sports is the opportunity to experience something amazing. Sliding down the face of a big wave, skiing the top of the mountain, racing bicycles, riding motorcycles, climbing sand dunes in dune buggies, skin diving, white-water rafting class 5 rapids, etc. all have the opportunity to amaze. I've always been something of an adventure junkie (within reason and finances) and have had my share of great experiences and hope to have even more. I'm guessing a parachute jump is in my future before I hit the half-century mark.

One of the things that has always drawn me to faith is the opportunity to experience something amazing. The power of God's ability to "forgive and forget" is amazing grace enough. But to add to that list praying for something to happen against all odds and watching it happen; the complete healing of a "there is no hope" patient, the funding for a ministry need from "out of nowhere," the total reversal of a life headed the wrong way, the divine intuition to call someone when they "needed you most." I've always been kind of a faith junkie (with too much reason and (sometimes) too many finances for faith's good) and have had my share of great experiences and hope to have more. I hope that on my dying day, I witness something amazing at the hand of God. Perhaps my own salvation would be amazing enough?

Recently, I saw God begin to do something in the lives of some people. In a world where we sometimes think the potential of a human being is without limit, I watched God take a very limited "human" situation and begin to move it to "beyond super-human" capabilities. Like a priceless work of art in process of creation, the details remain hidden for now, but watching God work has renewed my conviction that if one is looking for "adventure," without question faith provides perhaps the greatest arena for it.

I've experienced some amazing adventures in my lifetime, but never any as great as scaling the boundaries of faith. How far will faith take you? One thing is assured, a great adventure awaits you!

"And without faith it is impossible to please God,
because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists
and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him."
Heb. 11:6

More time?

2007-03-09T22:41:00.000-08:00

Still mulling this whole time thing over, I was riding home a couple days ago and a disturbing image from my past came back to my recollection. I'd not thought directly about it for some time, but the recollection came with force. While quite morbid in nature, it frames the reality of time in an eerie but profound way.

For whatever reason, it has been my misfortune to come upon many (you'd easily have to count them on more than one hand) fatal auto wrecks. It is not as if I am an EMT or policeman mind you, I'm just an average guy, who over the past few years especially unfortunately seems to be among the first to "arrive on the scene." There was a string of a few months were I came upon three within a short time of one another. It really began to bother me.

One unfortunate occasion a few years ago involved an older woman who was hit in an intersection and her car then exited the roadway into a park/water-retention basin traveled a couple hundred yards across a field and then struck a tree with significant force. Stopping my car as quickly as I could, I ran across the field and was one of two people to find the woman still somewhat seat-belted in the car but beyond either of our abilities to help her (she appeared quite gone from this life). I believe she may have perhaps expired prior to the collision, I simply don't know. When the EMT's arrived there was apparently nothing they could do for her.

My point is not to sensationalize her demise and I pray peace for her remaining loved ones. What I found most startling was the watch on her wrist... though she had left this life and the constraints of time as we know it, her watch still faithfully ran. The sweep hand marking the seconds as it had done for as long as she owned it. It was an eerie thing to see. Closing my eyes brings the image back with startling clarity.

It was the type of watch someone would give as a gift. An "older woman's" watch that had the signs of longevity on it. The watch was still "living" but she was not. I was standing before her, helpless, on what was to be her last day.

That moment forever affected the way I view time. I used to collect watches, now having more than I can wear in nearly two week's time. I still enjoy them very much but I wear them differently since that day. My view of marking time changed in an instant.

A late friend of mine was given a pocket watch by his family after his first remission from cancer. His wife and children gave him a pocket watch because of the effort it took to check the time. Each time he wanted to know the time, he had to take the time (and effort) to take it out of his pocket, open it, then look and realize the time. There were no quick glances, no cursory checks -- every second was precious and quite intentional in his use of the watch. His memory and the witness of his pocket watch are with me to this day. I will always remember how diligently and profoundly he would check that watch. While he loved the watch, I witnessed him treasure every second he had left in this life. He really knew the value of time.

If you are on the "fast track" in life right now, do yourself a favor and take a moment to value time and appreciate having "more time," for as long as you know you have it. Save only the Savior's return, nothing will "keep" time -- not even a precious timepiece -- it will keep on ticking -- and when we're gone, it will only keep on going.

"Do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord
a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day."
(2 Pet. 3:8)

Time Flies

2007-03-08T13:10:00.000-08:00

Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote, "Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind." Perhaps nothing could be more true than in the world of blogging.

It has been a full week (I can't believe it has been that long) since I last offered an entry here. There have been moments (read: seconds) in the past seven days where intentions were quite high to sit and offer a thought or two, but time has flown over me and I've only had its shadow in which to remain. Time. How fleeting and illusive!

It has been said that "time cures one of everything, even living" and I suppose this to be true. Time is illusive and may get the very best of us (or the worst of us depending on how we look at it) if we are not diligent in our stewardship of it. Enjoying writing as I do, I find the tyranny of the urgent driving most of my writing. A letter of correspondence, an email to set a meeting time, a lesson plan or teaching outline all demand attention and consume the "available" time I perceive I have to write recreationally (even in a space as brief as a blog).

Though we can never fully avoid the demands of time, lately, I've been trying to think less in terms of time and more in terms of essence. I've been considering what is it I essentially need to "be" rather than what it is I necessarily must "do." I believe there is a bottomless pit closely associated with this type of thinking. When we exclusively place "being" over "doing" we can get so lost in the "being" that the "doings" requiring deadlines and appointments become meaningless. It is recommended steering clear of that trap.

However, there is merit to finding balance between the "doing" and the "being."

As I sit to write in this moment, I'm finding the expression coming not from the "need to cross 'blog writing' off my day's "to do" list," but rather from the desire to stop for a moment and think about something or someone and try to connect with some folks who might indulge me long enough to read what I have written and perhaps garner their thoughts as well.

Rather than letting time manage me, I'm trying to find the principle difference in better managing my time. Doing so efficiently must have something to do with "being" and "doing" and I'm trying to find out what the balance is to it all.

Have you any ideas on balancing time and what motivates "doing" what you do and "being" who you are? I'd enjoy you taking the time to share some thoughts...

Denied the Ride

2007-03-01T21:02:00.000-08:00

An avid motorcyclist is always looking for an excuse to ride the bike, but being exposed to the elements brings a whole different dimension to the experience of transportation. Instead of wanting to ride, frequently motorcyclists have to choose to ride (or choose not to ride as the case may be).

Most operators of cars (a.k.a. "cages" to the motorcycle riding community) give little, if any, real concern for the weather conditions around them. They will simply put on whatever clothes feel comfortable or that which is fashionable for the occasion, grab the keys, jump in the car and go. For a motorcyclist on the other hand, attention to the weather is a serious matter and can, at a minimum mean comfort on the ride and, ultimately could even be the difference between life and death. So if there is a significant threat of inclement weather, the tendency for most riders is to err on the side of precaution and take a car. Then there are days like today...

When my day began at 5:30 this morning, the forecast was for a blustery and gusty day with sustained winds in the mid to upper 20 MPH range and gusts up to 40 mph and a high temp in the low sixties. For a motorcyclist, those numbers aren't inherently prohibitive (especially the temperature because the low sixties are about perfect temperatures for bike and rider), but winds of that velocity do not make for the most enjoyable of conditions. All things considered, today I chose to take the "cage."

When time came for the evening commute, exiting the office revealed the day could not have been more pleasant for motorcycling. Sitting at intersection after intersection on the way home, I saw fellow rider after fellow rider enjoying the same wonderful weather I could have been enjoying as well. "Jealous," you accuse? Of course, you'd be correct! Anytime a motorcyclist sees other riders on their bikes having a great time and you're not on yours, there is a profound sense of "bummer" going on in the "caged" rider's mind. Happy for the other guy to a certain degree, but still wishing... longing... you were on your own bike. It is a "lost day" in the mind of a true rider.

On the drive home, this got me to thinking about our witness as Christians. If pre-Christians had any real clue about how fulfilling a life relationship with Jesus Christ really is and then chose to "drive" instead of "ride," might there be some sense of "missing something?" In other words, a "lost day" for them. The difference of course assumes there would, for that pre-Christian, be some awareness of what they were missing. Perhaps if followers of Christ really lived lives of testimony and witness, pre-Christians would have a stronger sense of what their life could be. They would have a better idea of what they are, in fact, missing!

Many people wonder why I ride motorcycles at all, claiming it is simply too dangerous! Others wonder why I ride as often as I do, again claiming danger and that I'm only increasing my odds for disaster. My only reasonable response to their protest is "if you've never ridden, you likely won't ever understand."

I've frequently said, "Some are born to ride and others are just born." I frequently encourage people to not discount motorcycles until they have at least ridden one! Many people never even try motorcycling and for a guy who loves it so intently, I find that sad for them. Many convince themselves the "risks" are not worth the "rewards" and simply avoid it altogether. But many of those don't do so out of informed experience, but merely out of preconceived notion and ill-informed assumption. (Ask a friend of mine who crashed within her first seconds on a motorcycle, gashed her leg open, and still proceeded to motorcycle safety school the next day, and today happily rides as often as possible! One has to at least try it before they can honestly reject it).

Others will wonder why Christ followers spend time seeking the Lord. Still more are curious why Christians are so serious about their relationship with the Christ. My hunch is that if they have never experienced our true witness of that relationship, how will they ever know? And if they never know, how will they ever make an informed decision as to whether they will ever take the risk to "ride" or not?

I'm ready to ride. Does anyone else care to join me?

We Were So Close

2007-02-28T16:03:00.000-08:00

For those who know me well, my love for music can not be hidden. If I don't think anyone is around (and sometimes even when I don't care if someone is around) , you'll catch me singing some lyric from somewhere because I seem to "always" have a song playing in my head. I have a love for everything from Classical to (even) HipHop. Jazz, country, opera can all move me in deeply meaningful ways. I simply love music. Period.

One of the things that always fascinates me about music and its creation are the titles of the songs. Last night on American Idol, one contestant sang a song known as "Geek In Pink." As I listened to the lyric, it was obvious to me where the name for the song originated. But what about those Jazz, Classical and "inbetweeners" that have really cool names like "Take 5" or "Birdland" or "Catharsis," where do those titles originate. There are no lyrics to give us clues!

Today, I came across a CD that I have always loved but had not listened to in years. David Foster's "The Symphony Sessions" is a wonderful collection of acoustic piano pieces with an accompanying symphony orchestra. Each cut on the CD is rich in musical quality. The writing, the orchestration, the performances and production are all of superb quality.

There is one song on this 1988 release (the tenth and final track) that always holds me in check. A lilting melody with a simple piano lead line, it is entitled "We Were So Close." I have no idea why it is called such, but even after hearing it countless times for nearly 20 years now, it still moves me to the depths of my musical soul. Surely something or someone quite powerful inspired its writing. It would be great if you could hear it, but then again, it might not move you as it does me. If you want to try click here.

There have been many occasions (and I'm not exaggerating) when I've literally been moved to tears by this simple 4 minute 12 second piano solo. There are no background instruments, no vocals, just David Foster and one beautiful piano.

I'm listening now, even as I write these lines, and the song just simply takes me to a beautiful place. A place where God and those I love are so incredibly "close" and it makes me wonder if it isn't something I have experienced in the past, but perhaps is something for which I have to look forward to happening.

I have known the Lord as what I would describe as "close." I feel as though I'm close now. But I do long, one day, to be "so close." I have loved people in ways that I would call "close," but I long to love them "so close" so that one day they will be able to say, "We were so close."

"Dear friends, now we are children of God,
and what we will be has not yet been made known.
But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him,
for we shall see him as he is."
(1 John 3:2)

Is there a song that moves you so deeply that you can hardly describe how you feel when you hear it?

If so, I'd like to know.

Old Legs

2007-02-27T09:41:00.000-08:00

The 2007 church softball league opened last night with every HOCC team winning except one. That team likely would have won, but they were playing an HOCC team! So, there you go!

With four full teams being fielded this year, there are scores of opportunity for the men of the church to fellowship and get hurt together (I've been injured more playing softball than any other athletic venture I've participated in - why they call that thing a "soft" ball, I'll never know)!

Last night, one HOCC team was a little short on their roster so another brother and I willingly "volunteered" to play on that team immediately following our victory in the 7:00 game. Running breathlessly off the first field (we ran a little over time), we hurriedly changed jerseys and ran out just as the second inning was starting.

Feeling well warmed up and (finally) "in the groove" (I was only 1 for 4 in the first game) I was ready to play and had a fairly good outing hitting 3 for 4 and contributing some defensively. It was fun to be on the field again. The last game I played was back in June of 2006, when I completely dislocated my right thumb sliding into third and had to have our shortstop "relocate" it in the dugout (I highly recommend always having a trained chiropractor on your team -- the benefits are priceless!!!). Needless to say, the rust was thick on me (especially with the bat), but I'm anticipating the timing to improve.

Next to playing in a band, their may not be any more fun a bunch of guys can have together than playing as a team on the ball field. Though we are all clearly a step (or two or three) slower than we were "back in the day," we still have a great time. And winning is always a lot better than losing! We won the second game 19 - 15.

The "fun" took on a slightly different tone this morning as I attempted to get out of bed. My old legs barely wanted to work and throughout the day today, my upper thighs and hamstrings have been singing a song much different than the rest of my physical being. Even considering myself in relatively good shape, last night was an extension of what my muscles are used to doing.

All this reminds me of something Jesus once told His disciples. Jesus had been praying in the Garden of Gethsemane and He had asked His followers to stay awake with Him. Though they were willing to do so, their bodies wouldn't cooperate. Jesus said, "The spirit is willing, but the body is weak" (Mark 14:38). The spirit of the apostles wanted to go the distance with Jesus, but their bodies had not been trained for that level of experience. They kept falling asleep on the Savior of the world!

If my old legs are any indication of where my spiritual body is, I'd say I have some catching up to do with regard to what I really want to achieve in Christ. While it may not hurt while on the field, the next morning is tough and will require a whole new level of training. I suppose the same can be said of our spiritual selves as well!

Lord, please help these "old legs."

The Time Has Come

2007-02-22T19:38:00.000-08:00

Jesus makes a powerful announcement in Mark 1:15 when He declares, "The time has come." Those words changed everything. Nothing that was the same would ever be the same again. Four little words and all of history would become "his story" as prophecy fulfilled, Savior of the world.

Simon Peter, Andrew, James and John were simple fishermen. They were not the elite of the intellectual community. They weren't upper-crust social climbers either. They were just simple, ordinary, unschooled men (Acts 4:13). Rough handed, big armed net-haulers who worked a hard long day for a good day's wage. Likely honest, but rough around the edges, Jesus would call these four guys to the forefront of His scene because the time had come.

I often wonder if they really had any clue as to what they were getting into. "Fishers of men?" What was that supposed to mean, anyway? And would they be able to earn a living fishing for men? They had to be wondering to themselves... how did they know this Jesus could feed five thousand with five loaves and two fish? Who could know something like that?

Do you ever wonder if they even knew each other prior to being called? Both parties, the "Simon and Andrew Fishing Company" and the "Zebedee and Sons Fishing Company" must have had some awareness of each other as they worked the waters of the Sea of Galilee. But what might make it even more amazing that they would team up in this new fishing expedition (for men) is that they were likely competitors! Could they have even initially handled such a thing? Arch-rivals don't always make the best teammates! Jesus calls together the most unlikely of guys because "the time had come."

But this is what makes Jesus' proclamation so real, so authentic. "The time has come" for a lot of amazing things to happen. Not the least of which is people whom you would least likely expect to see together, teaming up and doing amazing things because "the kingdom of heaven is near. Repent and believe the good news."

God has an amazing way of bringing really unlikely combinations of people together to do amazing things. The time has come for those of us who follow Jesus to put away our comforts and participate in the authentic community Jesus has awaiting for us. Sometimes the people Jesus leads us to may not be anything like us, or they may even be our competitor, but Jesus has away of making that all come out for the good. It must be true, because "the time has come."

Life Exposed

2007-02-21T16:19:00.000-08:00

As if the tragic life (and subsequently tragic death) of Anna Nicole Smith has not been enough fodder for the media circus so far this year, we are now made to wade through the locks of Britney Spears' latest exploits. Another apparently tragic life in the making is being media-exposed and thrust into our awareness through virtually all forms of human communication. TV, radio, internet, phone, text messaging, even around the water-cooler, one can hardly get away from it even with considerable effort to do so. Can you imagine living your life in such a way that even when you cut your hair, it makes worldwide headlines? That is a level of exposure I'm fairly certain no clear-thinking human being would want to have to endure.

On occasion, the media can be so incredibly invasive into the lives of real-live human beings. Eager to get the scoop and beat the ratings over the next channel or magizine, the media Piranha will devour without hesitancy and frequently without just cause. Surely you've noticed that retractions take up little column space and are often hidden behind the next day's headline.

This is not to say that Ms. Smith and Ms. Spears (both surnames I share in my family background by the way) are not somewhat responsible for the "circus" that is their story. There are many celebrities that never "enjoy" these levels of exposure and will continuously put forth considerable effort to keep it that way.

What is interestingly contrasting to me is how all human beings on earth are equally known and equally live exposed lives. Our exposure is not to the media however, but to the Creator. Things both Smith and Spears have done that the press may never discover or disclose are known by the One who created them both. He knows the hearts of all men and women and what mankind will value as "newsworthy" and celebrities will use as means for self-promotion, God likely sees as shameful and sad.

Isn't it interesting to consider God knows every "scoop" on us, but He will never use it to exploit, demean or malign us? Instead, God uses the "dirt on us" to call us back to Himself and to encourage us to live a life of holiness by His grace through Jesus Christ.

I celebrate that my entire life is exposed to God and I am happy I can trust His use of the information. I know my "secret sins" will not make the primetime airwaves and that makes me quite thankful and moved to pray for those who's lives are so portrayed.

What are your thoughts on the matter?

O Love That Would Not Let Me Go

2007-02-20T01:18:00.000-08:00

Truth is I've never been the kind who likes being pinned down. I didn't care much for wrestling in Jr. High (it was a mandatory physical discipline in P.E. back in my day). While I really didn't much like the thought of a guy in tights being that close to me, I really didn't like the thought of somebody laying on top of me and pinning me to the floor against my will. I remember my matches didn't last too long because I just didn't like being all tied down. I'd rather lose the match than get all tangled up for a couple minutes that felt like an eternity!

I guess some might suggest I'm a bit of a "free spirit." I've always gravitated to less structured things. Growing up I was encouraged to play "legitimate" music in bands and orchestra (clarinet mostly), but I really loved the guitar and gravitated toward blues and jazz music because of the freedom of improvisation and the woeful expressions of those genres.

Solitary sports (other than wrestling, no doubt) have tended to draw my interest. Surfing I've enjoyed since I was a little buddy. I loved just being in a "soul session" dropping into wave after wave alone, even in a line-up with a hundred other people, just being in the water on the back of a board is an amazing experience. The solitude of the mighty ocean, the power of a wave and the rush of motion is an incredible joy that is difficult to fashion into words.

Now living so far from the ocean, I find my "soul sessions" out on the back of a motorcycle or on the driving range hitting golf balls. Just me alone... and the rush of instant speed gratification awaiting each twist of the throttle or the contrasting quiet click of a well hit (and sometimes not-so-well-hit) ball. There is a serenity to both of these contexts, decibels notwithstanding.

Given a wardrobe of choice... I'm less comfortable in the constriction of a necktie and will choose a T-shirt and jeans on most occasions. One of my most favorite combinations is a sweatshirt, shorts and flipflops... ahh, the perfect uniform for a "sixty-something" degree day!

So as I see it, life is best lived untied, untucked and unconstricted. But as comfortable as that may be for me in many circumstances in my life, it isn't the way I've come to know the love of God. There is something about God's love that is inescapable but is not threatening to freedom.

Recently I reacquainted myself with an old hymn from the mid-19th century that speaks of a "love that would not let me go." It is a poetic lyric speaking of the everlasting quality of God's infinite love.

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
that in thine ocean depths
its flow may richer, fuller be.

To be in the "ocean's depth" of God's love is to surrender completely to it. Not to wrestle away from it, but to "rest my weary soul" in God's love. God's love is a profoundly captivating place of spiritual and emotional residence. To return the very life God has given as a "re-gifting" of what He has already freely given to me seems scarcely proportionate, yet completely appropriate an expression of thanks for a love that graciously "pins me to the floor."

There have been occaisions in my life when I've tried to wiggle out from under "a love that would not let me go" and I've found that is not a blessed place at all. Realizing I can never get out from under His mighty love, I choose now merely to surrender, to quit resisting it, and to find comfort in its Divine constriction so as to find His love in me "richer and fuller be."

"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love,
may have power, together with all the saints,
to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,
and to know this love that surpasses knowledge --
that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."
Eph. 3:17b-19

How do you feel about God's love that will never let you go?

Face

2007-02-14T15:15:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been given a word of advice but you've never really received it? It may have come through a trusted friend who ventured into the realm of "danger" with you by offering some unsolicited admonishment or suggestion or perhaps it came more innocuously by way of something you read. But either way, you heard a "message in it for me" but perhaps chose to not act on the word.

There have been a few occasions in my spiritual walk where I have found myself being "prompted" by something, or more appropriately Someone, but I've not moved on it as quickly as I likely should have. It is something akin to what Jack Deere writes in his book "Surprised By The Voice of God" as the "internal voice." An inaudible, but yet fully clarified "voice" of something (again more appropriately Someone), calls to the listener and awaits a response.

Camping out in Psalm 27 this week, I've wondered if David had a similar experience.

"Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;
be merciful to me and answer me.
My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"
Your face, LORD, I will seek.
Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
O God my Savior."
Ps. 27:7-9

There are times I know, beyond any reasonable doubt, that God is calling me "closer." My heart has said, "seek His face" and I know cognitively I have been invited, but I hesitate and resist the movement closer to His face. Most often, the hesitancy rests in me and my laziness or perhaps my fear of what I will see of myself in His awesome reflective countenance.

As for David though, I love His pursuit of the "face of God." He pleads that God not "hide his face from him." What an incredible testimony to the depths of their mutual relationship. His face I will seek!

I long to be more like David and act on the "invitation" of the Lord, don't you? My heart says, "Seek His face" and that is precisely what I long to do.

How about you? How many invitations from God to "seek His face" have you let pass? What do you do to follow through on those incredible invitations? What amazing experiences await those who do, indeed, "seek His face?"

If you don't mind sharing, I'd like to know what you think...

The Fear of Listening

2007-02-13T10:28:00.000-08:00

Among the greatest fears in the human experience is (apparently) the fear of standing before other human beings and publically speaking. For some, even the thought of standing before a group and opening one's mouth to speak is incomprehensible. There seems to be a magic number of persons in an audience that moves a speaker from functional to mute. For some that number is as few as only a "few," and a paralysis so severe overwhelmingly grips them that nothing more than muted groans emerge. I (perhaps unfortunately at times) have never been one of those people fearful to speak in public.

My first "stage oration" came at the tender age of five. At the Kindergarten fall performance for Lockhaven Christian School, I announced to a crowd of what might as well have been 10,000 people (it was likely less than 300), "Meow, I'm in the Kindergarten class!" (Yes, I was dressed as a kitty cat and had a stunning terrycloth covered, tail, a furry wig and mascaraed whiskers to help sell the line). Likely incriminating pictures exist somewhere in this world.

I've never feared the stage before (how much stage presentation is offered a four-year-old anyway) or since. Public speaking has come as naturally to me as breath, and sometimes even more naturally, as I've literally at times found my words outlasting my physical breath (a frustration that occasionally strikes public speakers).

Many are the opportunities for those who are comfortable with public speech (or find themselves wanting to be more comfortable) to increase their skills and expertise. High school and college courses, business courses, Toastmasters, speaking clubs, etc. offer countless opportunities to become a better orator. While there is certainly nothing wrong with wanting to develop one's speaking abilities, it is a curious thought that our culture may excel more at speaking than we do listening. Have you ever heard of a "listening" course? Perhaps buried deep within the course catalogue for a degree in counseling, but listening is not typically highly valued in this culture.

While researchers have identified people's fear of speaking, I've not seen much study on people's fear of listening. There certainly is a fear in listening and it may be the very reason so few of us are any good at it. It takes certain levels of talent to be a good speaker, but equally is this true of being a good listener. But more than talent, being a good listener requires dedication and attention to humility and self-denial and this is where fear enters the picture.

Living within a culture emphasizing autonomy and self-interest, it is difficult to find good listeners because there is little apparent reason to be a good listener. Most people would rather talk than listen, even when they are deathly afraid of speaking in public. In crowds of less than a "few," most would rather be heard than to hear from someone else. So we reject our fears and "rattle off" because the fear of speaking is perceived as being less than the fear of listening.

painful life situation, because that might mean their situation is more difficult than ours and then to whom would we complain? We don't want to hear of And why should we listen to one another? Do we really want to hear about someone else'sanothers problems because, frankly, we have problems of our own we are trying to figure out. Finally, we don't really want to listen to a rebuke or exhortation because that would require that we possibly change something about ourselves. Change hurts and we don't want to hurt because we already have "problems" of our own. So we remain in a self-induced fear cycle and speaking wins over hearing virtually every time.

Take a close listen to your next conversation or to the conversation of others and observe if you can find a good listener in the group. If so, stay near that person for the one who can listen will prove to be a good servant to all. Not only will you likely need their ear at some time, but you may learn something from them as well.

The reality is that if we are ever going to live in the authentic spiritual communities for which we were created, we are going to have to learn how be better listeners. We're going to have to get over our fear of the implications of listening and open our ears to the world we see around us.

Once we are given ears to hear the needs of others around us, we will not hear another's words as threat or problem, but we will embrace them as opportunities to live in authentic community with one another and be the blessing we are intended to be.

"Pay attention and listen to the sayings of the wise;
apply your heart to what I teach,
for it is pleasing when you keep them in your heart
and have all of them ready on your lips."
Prov. 22:17-18

Artist in Finding

2007-02-09T19:35:00.000-08:00

One of the most wonderful things about the kingdom of God is the occasional encounter with new people. Not new people to the world, though greeting newly arrived children in this world is a blessed event, but "finding" new people who have been on this earth as long (or longer) than you have but your paths just haven't previously crossed. Today I had one of those encounters.

A local Dallas artist was recommended to me for some work I am currently involved with and today I had the honor of meeting him for the first time. Being complete and total strangers, we had the typical "unknowns" to deal with prior to our meeting. I can't speak for him, but when I have a "scheduled meeting" with a complete stranger, my pulse always quickens and my blood pressure rises just a little before meeting them. From the moment I met David, I felt at ease and had that "sense" we'd known each other a long time.

The ease was not in previously knowing each other, but was in being previously "known" by the One who has saved us. There is such an incredible commonality for those who are devoted followers of Christ Jesus. It doesn't matter whether we've known each other before, the fact that we are "known" by Christ makes us brothers. Those bonds can form quickly if Jesus precedes the relationship. Today it felt He certainly did precede the introduction.

With the security of another of my friends joining us, we immediately began talking about our individual faith journeys and how God is currently moving in our lives. The conversation was filled with much energy and excitement for what God has done for each of us. I sat in wonder as each of us shared a little of how God has rescued us from our past and is being faithful in delivering our future.

A fellow musician (he plays bass), we hit it off quickly and felt comfortable enough to share lunch at a local cafe. It was a really cool day and maybe the beginning of a mutually blessed friendship. Only God knows what is around the next corner (if there even is a next corner), but as for today, I'm thankful for my new friend, a true artist in finding.

If you are interested in David's work, check it out here.

"By this all men will know you are my disciples,
if you love one another."
John 13:35

Belly Laughs

2007-02-07T07:57:00.000-08:00

The old cliche goes, "Laughter is the best medicine" and to a large extend I believe it. Next to prayer, meditation on God's word and the counsel and comfort of good friends, there can be little better comfort.

God certainly has a well developed sense of humor (where else would our humor come from were it not from the Creator?). Issac (his name means "he laughs") brought great joy to his parents Sarah and Abraham in that he was born to them well past their child-bearing years and for the rest of his life, his name carried the laughter of that blessing from the Lord.

Recently, a friend sent me a video of a child laughing that was just priceless. The "trigger" for the child is a simple sound an adult male (I assume to be his Daddy) makes out of the view of the camera. The child's anticipation of the impending noise and his subsequent laugh is part of the fun. He knows it is coming and only the slightest noise will set him off (I'm smiling just writing about it). Click here if you want to see it and laugh with us.

I truly want to be the kind of spirit that even in the midst of trouble or pain can anticipate laughter will come. A Psalm of Moses includes this line: "Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days" (Ps. 90:14). Only God's unfailing love can be a sure provider for genuine joy.

Thoughts of raising our daughters came back to me seeing this video. I recalled my wife and I playing this same game with them, provoking them to deep belly laughs. The belly laugh is "one of a kind" and yet shared by children all over the world. It comes from way down deep in the gut and then bursts out of faces filled with glee. There are few better sights in the world!

Today, I'm thankful God has given us the gift of laughter. As with many things in this world, children seem to do some things better than we adults do. Laughter may be one of those things. Perhaps this is another indicator of something Jesus said about being like children...

"And he said: 'I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like
little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."
Matthew 18:3

Outgrown Expectation?

2007-02-05T11:48:00.000-08:00

At $2.5 million per 30 second spot, I wonder what the Monday morning after the Super Bowl is like for all the companies and organizations who choose to place advertising on what is arguably the largest viewed sporting event in the world. Let that number sink in on you... $2.5 million per 30 second spot (that's roughly $83,333. per second). That is a bunch of money spent in an amazingly short amount of time!

The general feedback I've heard regarding the commercials this year was that they were "not so good" or even "boring." I recall a few years ago, there was nearly as much hype for the commercials as there was for the game itself. In looking for entertainment "value" in this year's commercials, I'd have to agree with the general consensus, the commercials simply weren't that good. Was the money well spent?

With technology being what it is today, I'm sure there are electronic reports on the desks of many business executives this morning providing statistics on how many TV's stayed tuned into the commercial breaks or how many broke away. In a matter of weeks these companies and organizations will realize the true "value" in advertising and will be able to measure increases in participation or sales. Then, I suppose, the whole truth will be told.

"Was $83,333. per second worth the expense? Has the national audience outgrown the expectations for Super Bowl commercials? That would be fascinating to know.

Any time I even begin wondering if following Christ is "worth" the effort it takes to continue advancing in one's faith walk toward the image of the Savior, I remember the price that was paid for my redemption. Paul reminded the Corinthian Christians of the same thing when he was instructing them about morality. He said, "You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body" (1 Cor. 6:19-20).

The divine "price" of our redemption far exceeds $83,333. per second. To honor God is the only appropriate response I can give to the amazing grace we have received through an amazing price and that, for followers of Christ, is the truth.

That being said, "Did your favored team win?"

Mine did.

Checking Our Balance

2007-02-02T08:31:00.000-08:00

Some people I know never balance their checkbooks. They run financially off monthly statements or view their accounts on line, but never run a full balance sheet of their accounts. I on the other hand, want to know. In years past I would obsess over even a few cents if the account didn't balance. Today (my wife now balances our account a discipline which she took over years ago likely because she got tired of my stress), I can tolerate being even a few dollars off, but I still want to know "how much" is in there, even when we're not living with a specific budget concern.

What it is about the "balance" of my checking account that provokes me to want to know what it is with pinpoint accuracy, I don't know. With the advent of on-line banking, it is certainly easier to attain necessary information, but the ready availability of that information could drive me to nearly obsessive tendency if I allowed it.

A close friend of mine often chides me for necessarily having to balance my checkbook before writing my weekly tithe check. We laugh about it, but for some reason it makes things "right" in my little world to know how much is in there before I contribute. (Yeah, I know... If I was really "with it" I'd utilize online giving - but I appreciate the "worship" of writing a check. Call it habit, call if old fashioned I guess -- maybe it is one of the virtues of being "half-way-to-ninety."

If we consider our lives as living "checking accounts," I wonder would we be aware of our balance? What if we considered the number of our God-given days (Ps. 139) as a balance sheet and then spent the minutes, hours, days and years as we would write checks or swipe debit cards. How generous would I be?

By this point in my life, would I have more money than I know what to do with? In a spiritual sense, by having too much money in my account, I would actually be "in debt" -- guilty of taking much grace, mercy and love but not being willing to spend it on others. Spiritually in debt.

While we may be concerned about the "bottom line" of our financial accounts, perhaps we would do well to give the same level of concern to our spiritual accounts as well. Instead of going online, I'm going to spend more time with the Lord and see if I can find the "bottom line" on my life account.