THAT'S LIFE

Devotion is ...

2012-03-02T08:26:00.000-06:00

Devotion is a sometimes scary thing. For instance, I -- along with many, many others in the area I live in -- am going into convulsions because the New Orleans Saints haven't signed quarterback Drew Brees to a new contract. I read, listen, watch for that moment when one signature on one contract will send puffs of white smoke skyward and let the celebrations begin.

However, the question, a serious question at that, is whether I -- along with many, many others in the area I live in -- have that same devotion to our Lord and Savior.

Matthew 5: 20 reads, "For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

I don't see an out-clause there. I don't see unless your righteousness is given an out because you're too busy caring about sports, politics, entertainment, washing your car or whatever.

Righteous means doing the right thing.

Mother Teresa said, "We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls."

I take that to mean, stop what we're doing and listen. Be devoted to one thing, the love and sharing of Christ. All this other stuff is what we call lagniappe down here.

Who is the church? Ugggh.

2012-03-01T08:37:00.001-06:00

Let's take up some difficult teaching today. During one of the talks that are given at Kairos prison ministry meetings, someone asks, "Who is the church?" And the accepted reply is, "We are the church."

That doesn't mean what it once did. The church has become somewhat of a pariah, not because of Jesus' teachings but because of human actions.

Why is the church taking such a bashing today? Part of the reason is the way we handle the difficult matters. When the church can become news because of one priest's actions, well, the world or the "flesh" as the Apostle Paul would describe it, is winning. In a newspaper I read daily, today I read there is a God gap in the young disenfranchised and the older "church" goers. It's not hard to see why.

Take this story: As her elderly mother was dying, Barbara Johnson lay next to her on the hospital bed, reciting the "Hail Mary." Loetta Johnson, 85, had been a devout Catholic, raising her four children in the church and sending them to Catholic schools. At her mother's funeral mass at the St. John Neumann Catholic Church in Gaithersburg, Md., a grieving Barbara Johnson was the first in line to receive communion. What happened next stunned her. The priest refused Johnson, who is gay, the sacramental bread and wine. "He covered the bowl with the Eucharist with his hand and looked at me, and said I cannot give you communion because you live with a woman and that is a sin in the eyes of the church,"

The notion that sinners, those who haven't made peace with the ones they've sinned against, should not take communion is Biblical. Denying the Eucharist in public to someone who has sinned in private, not so much. A discussion about this should have happened before the communion service. To do so in this manner is nothing more than cruel, I would think. And it makes the news. And it makes the church look cruel in return. That the priest would tell the woman she is living in sin, having been in a relationship with another woman for 19 years, is not wrong, certainly. The Bible teaches this, no matter what she or others might say. But to do this in this manner at this time? A private meeting with her should have been mandatory. The fact to be remembered is Jesus ate with sinners. Jesus walked with sinners. Jesus taught sinners. So, too, should the church.

But then the church gets a chance to redeem itself in its teaching. The church gets to be what it was supposed to be.

The parents of Ohio school shooting victim Demetrius Hewlin said today they forgive suspected gunman T.J. Lane for shooting their son, noting sadly that Demetrius was often late for school but not late enough that day. "I don't know what [his] final moments were like, but I can't worry about it," Demetrius' mother Phyllis Ferguson told ABC News in an exclusive interview. "You have to accept things done and move on." When asked what she would say to the suspected shooter, Ferguson said, "I would tell him I forgive him because, a lot of times, they don't know what they're doing. That's all I'd say I taught Demetrius not to live in the past, to live in today and forgiveness is divine. You have to forgive everything. God's grace is new each and every day," she said

Ferguson gets it. The priest did not. I don't even know whether Ferguson goes to church, or what church, or what denomination. I know only that she gets it.

We live in a world where it is critical that the church quit being a moral judge even while it is failing to live a morally perfect life and become a loving, giving, sharing entity. If it does not, then the church is going to be a memory.

Who is the church? We are the church.

Let the light shine

2012-02-29T08:12:00.000-06:00

In the same way, let your light shine before people, so they can see the good things you do and praise your Father who is in heaven. -- Matthew 5:16

¹ “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. ² “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. ³ But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, ⁴ so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." -- Matthew 6: 1-3

The disciples sometimes get a bit of a bad rap. We think they must have been exceedingly dumb because they didn't seem to understand much of what Jesus was telling them until He had been crucified, resurrected, and the Holy Spirit had come to live in them.

But...

On the one had they were told to let that ol' light out, shining for all the world to see. Then, apparently, they were told to keep that ol' giving secret.

So, what's it gonna be?

I believe what the difference is in these two teachings is the attitude of the giver, the one shining. Jesus is talking about why one gives, why one shines, why one is righteous.

If one is doing all that to be seen so that one can grow in the eyes of the beholder, well, that's not acceptable. If one is doing it to be seen so that He might grow in the eyes of the beholder, well, that's good.

The problem is, I feel, that the experience is so very similar. It takes discipline and years of maturity spiritually to see and make the difference, neither of which the disciples had at the time. What to do? Let the same Spirit that changed the disciples into apostles fill our being.

Then shine on, my friends, shine on.

The unplanted seed

2012-02-28T08:28:00.000-06:00

In Longyearbyen, Spitsbergen (I'm not making that up), deep inside an Arctic mountain where only lowly lichens thrive, the seeds of wheat, cabbage and 4,000 other plants lie frozen and dormant, on call for catastrophe. If nuclear war devastates and mutates plant life on the Earth's surface, the underground Nordic Gene Bank could help replenish the world with the undamaged germ plasm of crucial food crops.

They've hidden seeds against the worst of all worst.

Seeds are an important part of living, I guess then. They were an important part of teaching to Jesus, too.

(Jesus) told another parable to them: "The Kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and planted in his field." -- Matthew 13:31

I've acquired seeds over the years. A bag of them, in fact. I keep the seeds sheltered. Out of the sun, you know. Out of the heat. I keep them not because I suspect there will be war or economic Armageddon or such. I keep them because I'm afraid to plant them, for if I plant them, my goodness they could grow. And if they grow, what would be the outcome?

I have love seeds. I'm afraid to give all I have to a Lord who gave all He had because, well, then there would be no me.
I have worship seeds. I'm equally afraid to plant worship seeds because if I worshiped as I would like, then congregations could turn out to not like me.
I have leadership seeds. Same as worship.
I have forgiveness seeds. If I planted forgiveness seeds, and they grew to the point where I forgave all those folks who aren't like me, or who don't call me, or who don't do what I would have them do, then what? The next thing you know I would be loving, and then what?
I even have a bag of those hard to find trust seeds. If I took them out and scattered them into the wind, oh, what would we have at my churches? Or if the wind took them and both sides of the aisle in Congress would take hold of them or even that dreaded building of White in Washington. Trust is such a divisive element, I keep those seeds hidden even from myself, which is a hard bag to do.
I have healing seeds, I have warmth seeds, I have compassion seeds, I have service seeds, I have children seeds, I have education seeds, I have Bible seeds, I have even, even the hard-coated soft heart seeds.

All unplanted for I fear the worst....growth, revitalization, resurrection.

Bags and bags upon bags sit in my shed, in my garage, in my washroom, in my stealthy spots in my life, waiting for sunshine, rain and most importantly the day I will plant them and watch the most important seeds of all grow: the seed of faith.

No generation without hope

2012-02-27T07:37:00.000-06:00

I'm in the middle of a five-week sermon series on hope, the object of which I believe we're starting to lose, as a nation, as a generation or two or as a world. Hope is hard to find these days. Nothing I've seen from any of the presidential candidates is making me feel a bit more hopeful than the other.

Then I read this: roughly half of all Spaniards between 16 and 24 are jobless, the highest level among the 17 nations that use the euro. It's a devastating picture of blighted youth that threatens to distort Spain's social fabric for years to come, dooming dreams, straining family structures and eroding the well-being of a rapidly aging population. The staggering jobless figures - 48.6 percent for Spaniards between 16 and 24; 39 percent for those ages 20-29 - hold dire consequences for a country that grew accustomed to prosperity on the back of a property boom that collapsed in 2008.

In Greece last week, that country continued to face political turmoil over a sovereign debt crisis that has embroiled the country for almost two years. The Greek government said it would hold new elections in the face of massive demonstrations against a new austerity package that was approved on Sunday in exchange for a European Union-International Monetary Fund bailout. Under the austerity deal, Greece will fire 15,000 public sector workers this year and 150,000 by 2015. The minimum wage will be reduced by 22 percent, and pension plans will be be cut.

You name it and it's bad. This nation is fighting (and losing) the jobless battle, and we go on at the Oscars and such as if things were as good as they ever were. And they're not.

And yet we don't turn to the one who can help, the only one who can provide hope.

Looking into hope in all the wrong places, I found these words in the book of Job, the book most closely tied to human suffering and it's attempted explanation.

The Bible says, "¹³ “Yet if you devote your heart to him
and stretch out your hands to him,
¹⁴ if you put away the sin that is in your hand
and allow no evil to dwell in your tent,
¹⁵ then, free of fault, you will lift up your face;
you will stand firm and without fear.
¹⁶ You will surely forget your trouble,
recalling it only as waters gone by.
¹⁷ Life will be brighter than noonday,
and darkness will become like morning.
¹⁸ You will be secure, because there is hope; you will look about you and take your rest in safety.

Because there is hope still in this world, all the other stuff doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is where our hope comes from.

The Bible also says, "I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth."

No generation is lost, if it turns to the Lord. No one is helpless if they take hold of the hope that comes from God. No one.

Read more here: http://www.kansascity.com/2012/02/26/3452873/spains-lost-generation-threatens.html#storylink=cpy

Proclaiming His greatness

2012-02-24T05:32:00.000-06:00

David appointed some of the Levites to lead worship in front of the Covenant Box, and they blew horns of trumpet and sang the first contemporary worship song:

"Give thanks to the Lord, proclaim his greatness; tell the nations what he has done. Sing praise to the Lord; tell the wonderful things he has done. Be glad that we belong to him, let all who worship him rejoice?

When's the last time you sat in your room, sat in your car, sat on your deck and simply gave thanks to the Lord for more than a 30-second breath prayer? When's the last time you admitted that all you have is nothing compared to the riches of the blessings that God has given you?

I'll admit I forget from time to time. I'll admit that I look around and wonder just what it is that I have. Then I see a wonderful, loving, caring wife who is far more admired and loved by two congregations than am I. I know I have healthy, loving children and grand-children who seem to abide me. I know I am mostly healthy, although I'm not sure about the mostly all the time.

I realize I am given the honor of leading worship each week, of proclaiming the word of God as best I can. I know that I am able to go places and help those who are in need far more regularly than others.

I am blessed. I read something yesterday about one should always remember where one was when the Lord lifted them out of their situation. I can never forget that without the Lord there is little question in my mind that I would be dead. I would be penniless. I would be without all those blessings I mentioned before.

Therefore, I give thanks to the Lord and I proclaim his greatness.

How about you guys?

Fruit bearing

2012-02-23T09:24:00.000-06:00

I was leaving the church Sunday and a dear, dear old friend of mine said, "It's good to have you back. You're always gone somewhere, to prison, to a retreat, somewhere."

I saw her yesterday morning for the Ash Wednesday services and told her I might be gone alot, but I would always be there for her where ever I would be.

But that sentence has stayed with me. At first I felt bad about it. Then after thinking more, I felt extremely good for I've been pondering this notion of "having fruit" quite a bit.

The Bible says of it, "⁹ We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives,^[a] ¹⁰ so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, ¹¹ being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience ..."

We should be fruit-producers. We should produce fruit. If we haven't done anything for God this week, we've probably not done much about fruit producing and if we have not, then we're not doing the will of God.

So, I continually look to see where my fruit is. There have been times I've been fruitless. There have been times the fruit was so ripe it needed to be picked immediately.

But through it all, I've tried, tried mind you, to produce good fruit in the good work. The key, I've finally figured out, is doing good work in God's time with God's help. Otherwise you're just digging in the ground.

Where's your fruit, readers?

Father of Lies

2012-02-22T08:01:00.000-06:00

As I prepare to deliver ashes to a sinful lot in about an hour, I am provided with this by the news again:

Rick Santorum on Tuesday stood by comments he made in 2008 about Satan attacking the United States, telling reporters here that he is going to “stay on message” and continue to talk about jobs, security and “taking on forces around this world who want to do harm to America.” The three-year-old speech is getting renewed scrutiny after several Web-based publications circulated audio and text of his remarks over the holiday weekend. Speaking to a group at Ave Maria University in Naples, Fla., Santorum said, “This is not a political war at all. This is not a cultural war at all. This is a spiritual war. And the Father of Lies has his sights on what you would think the Father of Lies, Satan, would have his sights on: a good, decent, powerful, influential country: the United States of America.”

Let's see. The reason this is a story is because people, certain people, believe this shows Santorum to be a religious nutcase. Though he might be a nutcase otherwise, Biblical teaching is pretty clear about this. The Father of Lies has his sights on all of us, in the world. Whether it be a good, decent, powerful, influential country or not. That does not make one a nutcase. That makes one a reader of scripture.

This notion that good and evil doesn't exist is a quaint one. But Jesus wasn't so quick to dismiss this one we call Satan.

Jesus said of the Father of Lies, ²² And the teachers of the law who came down from Jerusalem said, “He is possessed by Beelzebul! By the prince of demons he is driving out demons.”

²³ So Jesus called them over to him and began to speak to them in parables: “How can Satan drive out Satan? ²⁴ If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand.

That was said to point out that he couldn't be both good and evil, but that last sentence speaks so much toward what is happening in this country that it can't be dismissed outright.

When we get tired of beating ourselves up over religion, maybe we'll go on to trying to fix what ails us. Until then, Satan wins.

Religion warfare

2012-02-21T09:00:00.000-06:00

I read this and pondered:

Troops on the U.S.' largest base in Afghanistan have inadvertently burned Qurans and other religious materials, triggering angry protests and fears of even larger demonstrations as news of the burning spreads.The books were mistakenly thrown out with the trash at Bagram Air Field north of Kabul and were on a burn pile Monday night before Afghan laborers intervened around 11:00 p.m., according to NATO and Afghan officials.

By the morning, hundreds of demonstrators gathered outside of Bagram and on the outskirts of Kabul. Some shot into the air, some threw rocks at the Bagram gate, and others yelled, "Die, die foreigners." Many of them were the same people who work with foreign troops inside the base. At one point, apparently worried that the base would be stormed, guards at the base fired rubber bullets into the crowd, according to the military. They should leave Afghanistan rather than disrespecting our religion, our faith," Mohammad Hakim told the Associated Press outside of Bagram. "They have to leave and if next time they disrespect our religion, we will defend our holy Quran, religion and faith until the last drop of blood has left in our body."

Clearly they believe differently than do we Christians, but I wonder why they believe so strongly and yet we are so non-passionate about our faith. We struggled to even talk about it, as a new friend told me the other day. She said that in the North, no one talks about their faith openly. I wonder how the Great Commission is followed then.

What should be our methods of showing a passionate love of Christ? Should we? Is it up to the individual or do we get pushed by the leadership of the church into being missionaries to the ones around us who do not know Christ?

Makes you wonder if the "religion wars" have already been lost by our own lack of effort.

Arrows deep

2012-02-20T08:43:00.000-06:00

Ah, the familiar. I'm back at my desk, back at my computer, back at my keyboard. Back scratching for something to write about that would help, interest, provide the masses.

Let's look at something new for me that has no current bearing on my life. Let's look to Lamentations. You know the book probably less than most.

In the third chapter, the author, probably Jeremiah, writes this: "He (God) drew his bow and made the the target for his arrows. He shot hit arrows deep into my body. People laugh at me all day long: I am a joke to them all. Bitter suffering is all he has given me for food and drink."

Understand that Jeremiah was writing about the fall of Jerusalem. He was in less than a good mood throughout the writing.

But still...

Have you ever felt that God was in the process of essentially wasting you? Have you blamed God for anything lately? Have you even wondered what God was up to?

The answer to your longing is this: Lamentations ends with Jeremiah writing a prayer to God. "Bring us back to you, Lord! Bring us back! Restore our ancient glory. Or have you rejected us forever? Is there no limit to your anger?"

The answer is, of course. The Jews were brought back to Jerusalem. They are there today.

God is a faithful God. If the Jews had listened to Jeremiah before the Lamentations, perhaps they wouldn't have seen Jerusalem fall.

What needs to fall is our lives? What is it that needs to be taken from us? What is keeping us from ultimately being ALL God wants us to be?

Feel the blessings, pick up the cross

2012-02-17T06:39:00.002-06:00

FINAL DAY OF ACADEMY FOR SPIRITUAL FORMATION

6;23 A.M

³⁷ “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. ³⁸ Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. ³⁹ Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it."

My covenant group made several pledges last night. You know the kind: we'll get together once a month for the next six months as an accountability measure. We'll do what we said we were going to do.

Personally, through clinched teeth, I pledged to find for myself a spiritual director, to make a great effort to rise earlier in the morning and spend time alone with the one who created me, and, uh, to write the next book on my agenda, a tome about the faith response to Hurricane Katrina. That is something that has attracted me for some time, and I mentioned it the other night as we talked about things we hadn't done that we wished we would.

So, I'm stuck.

Then later in the night I made a statement that might have a huge effect on Mary and my future to someone who has at least a portion of that future in her hands. It is something we have talked about, but saying it and meaning it, about picking up our cross and literally following, was flat-out scary. But I said it, it's done.

Amazingly I slept the sleep of the blessed. I didn't toss and turn and though I'm still sleepy (as I've been all week) I feel energized. And today we go HOME.

But first, first, let's look at what it means to each of us to actually pick up our cross and go following Christ.

We do that without knowing, or even guessing at, what constitutes our next moves. We do that without dreaming whether that future is brighter or less so. We do that without making lists of things that are good and things that aren't and getting into those continuing arguments about our checkmarks on those lists.

No, we simply say, "Jesus, whatever you want, whatever you need, whatever I can do with you as my co-pilot on this flight, I will do it."

As the sun slowly creeps over the trees that circle the lake at this retreat center, with lines of pink fighting for life among the deep, deep blue and edges of gray, I am satisfied. I am gratified. I am blessed.

Can you hold your cross high above your head and shake it at the same sky, the same sky that Abram saw, the same sky that David saw blanketing a huge obstacle, the same sky that Jesus saw above a bloody cross that hurt him far more than our own?

Can you?

Let today be the day we recognize that your wonders never cease. Let today be the day we simply fall before dirty, bloody feet and wipe them clean with the tears of the justified, the tears of the saved.

This is my only blog of the day, but know this: My prayers are with you as we begin again the journey. May his Spirit be with you as you contemplate the next obstacle that Christ will lift you above even as your body says you can't possibly make it.

Pick up that cross. Fight the urge to sit it back down. Fight with the blood-line of the Savior pulsing in those aching arms. Pick it up. Go forth. Go on. Go till you can't, literally can't take another step, then let Jesus make that incredible difference.

WE CAN, we can, do anything and everything through Christ who not only strengthens us, but helps lift the weight of that cross.

Tired? Sure. Weary? Without question. Blessed? Absolutely, no doubt this morning, no matter the foe, no matter the battle, no matter the circumstance. Blessed indeed.

Please take from me my life when I don't have the strength to give it away to you, Jesus.

And are they yet alive?

2012-02-16T07:11:00.001-06:00

ACADEMY OF SPIRITUAL FORMATION, DAY 4
3:30 p.m.

The question wase simple but it struck me hard. How are you with forbearance?

Let's begin by saying I've probably heard more spoken Greek this week than just about all the weeks of my life combined. I'll further confess that those who throw in Greek words (and the Greek there says ...) always have made me feel as if the speaker wasn't trying to clarify so much as to show how little I know about the New Testament and life in general. I'll still further confess I've done that very thing. It really, really sounds like I'm smart when I say it, though I couldn't read a sentence of Greek if there was a gun held to my head and the only way of escaping is to diagram the 18th verse of the third chapter of Colossians, which by the way is perhaps the most important sentence in all of scripture. (See, that will make you look it up and discover the Greek says ...)

That said, the idea of forbearance (according to our lecturer Dr. Bob Mulholland) was (IN THE GREEK) this notion of meeting the person we're bearing with exactly wherever that person is. Not changing them the instant we meet them into something or someone they're not simply to meet our agenda is the idea. If you were to meet me without knowing me (which I guess would be the meeting part, wouldn't it?) you would instantly know that not only do I not know any Greek except Gyro, and I don't know much of anything that would fit the concept of scholarly in any category. If I were to tryout for Jeopardy, I would fail "SPELLING YOUR OWN NAME" for all dollar vallues.

My answer is not a pretty one for me. I don't forbear well. This week has been a forvearing challenge for me. I've met some wildly wonderful people who have all excelled at being themselves. Me? I've tried my best to fit in. And in my mind, I've done a lot of trying to change them so that I'm not the dullest particular tool in this shed. I've failed. In all the ways what I am is unimportant, I've tried to make the resume better than it is. Bet you didn't know that I'm close personal friends with most of the writers on the best-sellers list? Yep. John Grisham and I are practically neighbors.

Anyway, Dr. Mulholland was teaching us about the 13th verse of the third chapter of Colossians. That reads in the ESV "And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony: Other translations say in wisdom as the closing words. Still another reads, "binds everything togewther in wholeness." Dr. Mulholland said something about the antecedent of the female form of the pronoun which and that it being an elementary mistake that Paul wouldn't have made the word that preceded it was clearly incorrect and what does the love there refer to and of course it refers to the Christ and that's what Paul meant and something about the fact we should all understand that or simply leave the country.

At least I think he said that.

I, of course, was having another of those mini-strokes at the time that began somewhere around the use of the word antecedent. I had an antecedent named Elsie, my father's sister, and she lived in Florida. That's all I could think of for a moment. Then it dawned on me that was my AUNT Else, not antecedent and I had no idea what an antecedent was, and then I wondered how was knowing what that word meant going to help me feed hungry children around my church in Covington, and I wondered if there were antecedents around my church in Covington, and small chunks of brain began pouring out my ears.

All I could think of was why wouldn't Paul have simply written THE CHRIST if that's what he meant instead of LOVE. This clearly was a trick by the liberal conservatives of Paul's time. Or was it the conservative liberals? You can never be sure about those tricky folks.

I smiled after a while because for the first time in a while, I felt so "disciple-like." Clearly, like Peter and John, I wasn't getting it. I needed Christ to walk through the Wesley Center's closed doors, show me some scars on his side, head, feet and hands and say, "Are you an antecedent for me?" To which, of course, I would say nothing at all, for I didn't know what that meant.

It should be clear thatmy forebearance level was seasonably low. I was trying to make Dr. Mulholland fit my preconceived notion of what we're doing here. I was trying to make Dr. Mulholland fit my idea of study. In fact, I was trying to make Dr. Mulholland represent all my resentments about the seminary versus course of study, elder versus local pastor argument I've lived much of my clergy life.

Two days ago, for example, I was listening to a dear colleague, an elder who used to sit on the board of ordained ministry was talking about remembering me from our meetings. He was telling someone else about this as I listened and somewhere in the discussion, he described the local pastors and elders as being "us and them."

I'm amazed after all this time that elders almost always describe the relationship of the "orders" as us and them and I never heard local pastors do so.

I never talk about clergy and laity as us and them. I never talk about United Methodists and any other denomination as us and them. I never even talk about Christians and non-believers as us and them. I've just never seen the point.

We're all in this big bag of donuts together, seems to me, and I'm just trying to find my way home. I'm not in any way saying that Dr. Mulholland was separating the sheep and the goats, was in any ways dividing the seminarians (which by the way was his whole life for more than half his life) from those who didn't go.

What I am saying is that in terms of forbearing most of us in the room, he forgot that many if not most if not everyone but Dr. Mulholland didn't have the faintest idea of what an antecedent was.

Or maybe it was just me.

Bottom line is this: In trying our best to meet everyone where they are, the biggest hindrance is not knowing where they have been. It takes time to do so. Perhaps that is why the word that directly precedes bearing in the ESV translation of the 13th verse is PATIENCE.

Goes to show you: If one is loaded for bear, one must then shoot with patience (long-suffering).

10 A.M.
I believe Rich Mullins said that forgiving what had been done to you was tying the hardest know. He, therefore, began with the simpler ideas of Christianity.

This morning we've pondered the idea of forgiveness, looking at who needs it, who can give it and how much one can give. Like a vessel filled with hurt, the only way to drain that hurt is to forgive. Forgiveness, it seems to me, is the straw that does not break the camel's back but is one that helps heal it as that burden that threatens the wellness of the camel's back is lifted.

Jesus said he would take those burdens from us, but I believe in the long run that there is a pattern we must follow before he takes those burdens, those sorrows, those pains.

Nehemiah 9: 17 tells us that "they (the Israelites) refused to obey .. but you are a God of forgiveness."
Psalm 103:3 tells us, "He forgives all my sins and heals all my diseases."
Matthew 6:15 tells us, "But if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins."
And Luke 23:24 tells us that Christ from the cross itself said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

I have hurt people in my life without meaning to. The intentionality is not the question here. The hurt is.

For those actions or inaction, I ask forgiveness from those wounded souls that I love.

The specificity of those actions is not the question here. The hurt is.

For those actions, or inaction I pray that they will forgive me.

The reasons for those actions or inaction, for my ability to make a phone call that would lift or a letter than would encourage or for a visit that would change a day, the desire to be forgiven is not the question. The fact I've been caught in actions that were wrong is not the question. The fact that I have not reached perfection or holiness or even a degree of forgiveness with even a God who loves me from womb to casket and beyond is not the question.

The question is can I forgive so that I might be forgiven. The answer simply must be yes. I ask for forgiveness from friends and former friends who gave me all they had and I forgot the beauty of it. I ask for forgiveness from family who know me in my depths and in my heights and in my longings and my achievements. I forgive those who have done the same.

I ask for forgiveness for all those inattentive attempts at listening where my voice as no still one to be heard. I ask for forgiveness for not knowing what was on the hearts of the ones I loved, but instead cared much more for my own desires. I forgive those who have done the same.

And I ask for forgiveness for that part of me that still needs to be chipped away at till the false self is no longer there. I ask for forgiveness (and direction and guidance) so that as the prodigal I come home with a sense of wonder and awe, so that as the older brother I stay home with a sense of duty and achievement and I ask for forgiveness as the father of both sons so that I am filled with a cup of grace that runneth over. I forgive those who have done the same.

I have wronged some. I am sorry. I have not loved. I am sorry. I have not been the church to the world in need far too often. I am sorry.

This sorrow is real as the darkness that comes in the evening, and it is as unsustainable as my efforts to walk daily for my health. I am sorry, but it ends with forgiveness. My guilt is washed away with the blood of the lamb.

Therefore, please forgive me. I need this forgivess to go on, but it is up to the ones who have been hurt to decide. I can only forgive and ask for forgiveness in return. The rest is up to the other, the one I have hurt in small and large ways.

Let this day be a new beginning, and let me be a new creature (again, and again, and ...) until I get it right.

7 A.M.
Ephesians 1:13 -- And now you Gentiles have also heard the truth, the Good News that God saves you. And when you believed in Christ, he identified you as his own by giving you the Holy Spirit, whom he promised long ago.

This morning, as we continue the week-long quest to be spiritually reborn, reformeed, reconsituted, I begin by looking at the good news that was given to me, that good news being my understanding of the Gospel, the Gospel itself and my being given the Holy Spirit to help me understand how to live now that I have this good news.

It is clear that my level of education and even my level of understanding, wisdom, and knowledge isn't what it is for many who are here. I'm no seminarian, and even if I was, apparently, my understanding of some of the concepts we've been taught and.or given is not what others have. At one point yesterday in a lecture, my inclination was to say, "sorry, I'm not at all sure what we just said."

So be it. What I do understand is that God saved me, picked me up from the gutter, cleaned me as best could b e done, sent me b ack out onto the streets so that I could tell someone the truth of the Good News. Do I have the vocabulary to express that in seminarian terms? Nope. So be it. What I have is a genuine affection for others, and I pray a way of simplifiying the way to look at what the heart hopes to express rather than just the mind. Oswald Chambers, in ther reading for today, wrote, "God does not give us ovecoming life; He gives us life as we overcome...if we will do the overcoming, we shall find we are inspired of God becuase He gives lfe immediately." Oh, what joy in life we will have if we but live as if we have joy.

The rest? False selv es and contemplative prayer that leads to self-examination that leads to something I'll discovered today perhaps is just as they say so especially in Louisiana, just lagniappe.

Am I all I can be in Christ? Nope. Will I grow closer to him? Yes, over time. Will I try to grow closer? You've read the efforts, and by the way, you'll hit 10,000 hits on the website sometime early this morning and I'm greatly appreciativ e of you efforts as well. You're at least part of the reason I do five days a week. Keep reading.

See you after breakfast and a lecture....

Before our own altars

2012-02-15T07:10:00.001-06:00

ACADEMY FOR SPIRITUAL FORMATION, DAY 3,

3:40: Let me first say I hope these musings of what we've done here have been, are being, helpful. They are assignments as it were, thoughts and expressions developed from morning and afternoon lectures.

Let me briefly pave the way for you to study Paul's letter to the Colossian church. I'm trying to condense a rather lengthy passage of scripture and an hour-long lecture into a readable piece of material. Please bear with me. Save this, bookmark it and read it at length when you want to.

Paul is telling a church, filled with folks he's never met, about what it means to have the true self, Christ's cross as it were, as opposed to the false-self. This church had attached itself to the idea that works-righteousness was the true life of Christians. In other words, if you do the right bunch of stuff, you get the right result. Give me some rules with my three-course dinner and I'm fine, thank you.

In the second chapter, beginning with the 20th verse (I'll use the NIV here) through the middle of the third chapter, we read, "²⁰ Since you died with Christ to the elemental spiritual forces of this world, why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its rules: ²¹ “Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!”? ²² These rules, which have to do with things that are all destined to perish with use, are based on merely human commands and teachings. ²³ Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.THIRD CHAPTER ¹ Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. ² Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. ³ For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. ⁴ When Christ, who is your^[a] life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.
⁵ Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. ⁶ Because of these, the wrath of God is coming.^[b] ⁷ You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. ⁸ But now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. ⁹ Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices ¹⁰ and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. ¹¹ Here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all."

I could go on and on, but let's stop there and say this: Paul was clarifying basically that since you have died to the spiritual forces of this world with Christ, why are you still trying to follow the lists of good behavior of that same world? And since you were raised with that same Christ, why are you not putting to death all that earthly behavioral thing?

I'll condense it further. Why are you trying so hard to look Christian, and when are you going to start allowing God to let you BE Christian?

Get rid of the rule-book. Pick it up and toss it, or at the least pick it up and let it be a coffee table book rather than a daily way to live book.

Years ago in one of my first jobs in journalism, we would sit in the office and have trivia contests based upon the baseball rule book. In other words, we studied the rule book daily. I knew many kids who knew almost all the rules of the rule book yet couldn't play a lick, and I knew many kids who knew almost none of the rule book but could play wonderfully.

Paul is telling these Colossian people to get rid of the religious false-self (that which would have us stop handling, tasting and holding things). He is saying start concentrating on becoming truly healed by God of our broken sexuality and our tendency toward violence.

Stop putting on human rules that simply limit the joy of Christian living without being beneficial ward the goal of heavenly eternal living and start letting the gifted of God play well together in fields of grace.

We are all in that field of dreams together by the way, Paul writes. Gentile (Catholic, Baptist, Methodist and the like), Jew, Muslim, Wican, etc. Whether male or female, whether black or white, whether young or old. There is one rule and one rule only that applies: Crucified with Christ. Raised with Christ. Saved by Christ, through Christ, because of Christ. Though that seems to be plentiful, it is one. That one is, of course, CHRIST.

10:10 a.m. -- Self-examination, or as Ignatius of Loyola described it, the daily examen of consciousness as the way to discernment.

He prayed, "God, my Creator, I am totally dependent on you. Everything is a gift from you. I give you thanks and praise for the gifts of this day."

Last night in a circle our Covenant group began slowly and finished with flourish as we talked about the gifts God had given us.

One slender quiet woman from Shreveport showed us her incredible gifts of creativity that produced painting, molding, building of artistic expression. In a word, her gift is hand-made, hand-held beauty. She humbly shared with us what she has seen in mists of inspiration that only she could see. We were blessed.

One man, a displaced New Orleanian, a brother of the storm, read us a song he had written yesterday that gathered its theme from rescue (he has two rescue horses). We were ble3ssed.

One clergyman told us of a dream he had hand the night previous in which anger molded and directed his actions, quite unlike his reality. His truth and clarity and honesty blessed us.

And I told the group about the work before me. I told them hesitantly and our leader wondered why I hid my talent behind the fear I wear as cloak. I never answered him, really. So that's what I've decided to examine this morning, that 1 1/2 hour period last night.

I hide whatever talent I have because like the Atlanta Braves pitcher John Smoltz once said, I fear failure more than I'm motivated to succeed. I don't like to show my writing talent just in case someone thinks I don't have any. I'm almost ashamed of what I'm capable of doing, and just typing that sentence hurts me. If I was to discover that no one liked my writing, it would absolutely criple me. It is my image of myself. I AM a writer. It's not just what I do. It is who I am. Rightly or wrongly, I write. Started with a worn and beaten typewriter at my aunt's house almost a half-century ago.

Today I'm motivated by the small number of readers I have more than the possibility of having millions. In other words, I would find reasons to be unhappy if I was the No. 1 blogger in the country, but I can't even get the Louisiana Annual Conference website to pick up the link to my blog so clearly I'm not that good.

I pray these musings help someone, but I'm convinced they could never do so. In essence, I'm a New Orleans Saints football fan in all thats deep meaning. In other words, I prepare myself for losses so much so that I convince myself the loss is inevitable. In self-talk sessions that bleed discouraging words like a suicidal wound on the wrist, I tell myself that the work is not good enough so often that eventually the work is not good enough in reality.

Ignatius asked of himself to reflect on the Holy Spirit's actions during his day: "Holy Spirit, I believe in yur work in time nd through time to reveal me to myself. Please give me an increased awareness of how you are guiding and shaping my life, as well as a more sensitive awareness of the obstacles I put in your way.

It dawns on me like a dreary revelation: I AM THE OBSTACLE HE HAS PUT IN MY OWN WAY. I. ME.

I am asked to examine his presence in today's events; his presence in the feelings I experienced; on his call to me; and on my response to him.

I am asked to tell him what event I most want healed.

That it easy, for me this morn.

Today, friends, I ask the Holy Spirit to heal me of my self-absorbed actions, of my inability to believe not in the Holy Spirit of whom I have great respect and belief but rather my inability to believe in myself. I ask God's Spirit to heal my false-humility and yet I ask Him to give me a natural and normal self-image that doesn't include my unnecessary desire to be loved me all.

Let today be the day He heals me of all false, harmful images of myself. Let today be the day I am brought more deeply into the kingdom's walls. Forgive me of my sinful actions of the previous day, o Lord. And let today be the day I begin a more forceful, meaningful, cleanly walk with you.

8:40 A.M. -- After a startling good breakfast during which we could see the sun fighting to slice its way through the fluff we called clouds, a morning in which we broke not only our fast from food but also fast from sound (talking and such), I read the news this day (uh, huh).

Among the items was this: Iran trumpeted advances in nuclear technology on Wednesday, citing new uranium enrichment centrifuges and domestically made reactor fuel, in a move abetting a drift towards confrontation with the West over its disputed atomic ambitions. Iran has been resorting to barter to import basic staples as sanctions, imposed over its pursuit of nuclear activity seen in the West as geared to developing atomic bombs, have spread to block its oil exports and central bank financing of trade.

I began to ponder our world. In the minutes I had remaining before the next lecture at this Spiritual Formation Academy, I pulled out my very worn copy of My Utmost for His Highest, and today's devotional asked the question, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Uh, wow and then some.

Author Oswald Chambers makes this point ..."How many of us are willing to spend every ounce of nervous energy, of mental, moral and spiritual energy we have for Jesus Christ? That is the meaning of a witness in God's sense of the word."

How would this world be different, or even would it be different, if we were to take this message to Iran: We love you and would love for you to join us in our quest to make this world be peaceful again. Would you please consider using your advancements toward a peaceful nuclear program?

Chambers asks, "God has left us on the earth -- what for? To be saved and sanctified? No, to be at it for him." In other words, what are we planning to do this day for God. Not with God. No devotional reading. No prayer time. No visiting or even having dinner with. No. What are you planning to do FOR him.

Are you willing this day to be different than you were yesterday? To be changed so that you can be an agent of change? To help rather than be helped? To love rather than be loved?

This is monumental it seems to me because these are fundamental changes that could, could mind you, change the fundamentals. The Iranians (and all those faceless Middle Eastern persons who know of Jesus but do not know him at all other than what they see in us and for the most part do not like, deserve our utmost for his finest. I worship at HIs altar, not my own, this morning, I pray.

In a room of almost exclusive whiteness, in a room almost exclusively of one culture, that altar is hard to find, but it exists. Let His will be done.

7 A.M. --

The darkness of the days continues, though there was a brief moment Tuesday afternoon where the sun stuck it's great head out and smiled down at our meager efforts to find a joyous God. This morning my body is proclaiming it a peace-free zone, as aches and pains from walking are surfacing like angry monsters from 10,000 feet below the surface.

But here I am, seeking answers to as-yet imposed questions. I turn in the scriptures quite randomly this morning to Ezekiel's journal of affairs and I read this, "Therefore you prostitute, listen to this message from the Lord...Because you have poured out your lust and exposed yourself in prostitution to all your lovers, and because you have worshiped detestable idols, and because you have slaughtered your children as sacrifices to your gods, this is what I am going to do...

While I congratulate myself immensely for having done none of those things as did Israel (the recipient of the prophecy of Ezekiel), I stop to ponder and I wonder as I wander.

I've lusted, as Jimmy Carter so famously insisted, in my heart and certainly in my mind as I've tried to direct God to do my will, not his, in terms of job offers and appointments and such. I've sought out detestable idols of money, fame, fortune even while I've told everyone how poor we were because of my decision to become a minister full-time. Thus I've slaughtered figuratively my children and grand-children at the altar of my own choosing.

If we take the time, and that's about all I have to treasure in the silence of this retreat, we can certainly see those times when we, every bit as much as dear ol' Israel did fall away from God instead of seeking after his face.

We wanted so much more. He gave us all we needed.

Thus we fall, and we fail, and we falter before our own altar. And so begins the day.

I hear you

2012-02-14T10:36:00.004-06:00

FIVE-DAY ACADEMY OF SPIRITUAL FORMATION (DAY 2)

10 a.m. --
This morning, after our prayer session and breakfast (love those biscuits from, uh, somewhere) but before we began our lecture on contemplative prayer, I looked down to my hand for some reason and I was shocked to see that my wedding band was not on my finger.

I was immediately aware that on Valentine's Day of all things I was suddenly naked in a manner of speaking. I was also acutely aware instantly that I had no way of knowing how long that had been the case. Perhaps it had come off months ago or minutes ago.

I was also almost as immediately aware that somehow I should have known. How could this expression of love that I had worn for all these years be gone without my knowing it? Am I that clueless? Can I possibly be that insensitive to the love I feel for this woman I've known as spouse for nearly three decades?

The lecture this morning was about listening to God. Taking the time to feel God's intention. Being molded not by my intercessory prayer as well-intentioned though that might be.

I heard this: perhaps our real task in prayer is to attune ourselves to the conversation already going on deep in our hearts.
I heard this: God is closer to us than our breath.
I heard this: Jesus was aware his mission was possible only as long as his relation with Abba was nurtured.
And I heard this: Contemplation is gazing with the eyes of the heart, letting ourselves get lost in adoration, in wonder, in allowing our soul to look upward to God in admiration.

Today I pray that my adoration for God be allowed to be. TO BE. To change, grow, mature. I pray that I find peace that is inexplicabel and that this dawning day with all its (still) grayness be simply another possible journey toward wonder.

At the breakfast table today, sitting with our bishop, an elder who is responsbile for this retreat and a Baptist gentlemen from Virginia who is simply seeking a deeper walk with Christ, I took baby steps again toward understanding more completely what my relationship with Jesus is or should be. But it is back here in my room, staring at my netbook, contemplating what I'm saying to God and what he is saying in response to me that I am indeed closer.

I acknowledge and confess that I spend too much time trying to MINISTER to others instead of spending any time being MINISTERED to by the God who loves me more than breath itself. I confess that I'm learning, still.

GOD: Haven't heard much from you lately, Billy. You okay?
ME: Yes, uh, sir. I've been doing stuff for you.
For me?
Yes, God. I'm one of your ministers, pastors you know? I preach and teach and I, I...
I know, Billy. I'm the one with your name in the palm of my hand.
How's that work, by the way? Is it like a tatoo? A piercing?
No, piercing is another thing entirely, but I know a little about that as well. Anyway, do you listen much to me anymore?
I'm sorry. I minister so much that I get tired. And when I get tired, I, uh, fall asleep when I listen. You ever do that? Uh, I'm sorry, forgot who I was talking to. I don't think you get tired, do you?
Tired physcially? No. Don't have much of a problem there. But I get tired of, well, tired of things.
What kind of things?
I get tired of people doing things in my name. I get tired of people misinterpreting what I've told them, of not listening at all when I speak. I get tired of people coming up with their own rules and saying I put them in the tablets I gave Moses. I get tired of, Billy, I get tired of religion.
I thought that was your family business.
That's what you've been taught by someone besides me.
But worship...and prayer ... and evangelism ,,, and missions and ...
Let me stop you right there. All those things are important. But without me working in you, those things are just words. Someone once said that I'm love. I gave that to John, I think, I'm love. Well, that's about as true as anything. I'm love, in worship. I'm love in our prayer time together. I'm love when you're evangelising (sharing good news). I'm love when you're building someone in real need a house. I'm love, Billy. I love talking to you like this. I love talking to you in your Bible. I loved talking to you when my Son was wandering all over Palestine. I love talking to you. But what I've learned over time is that you really, truly don't like listening.
Do you think we'll ever learn, Lord?
Sure. Sure. Most folks learn to listen to me when something big happens, something dire. But I strongly prefer not having to work through tragedy or suffering. I'd just as soon talk to someone on a birthday or after they share the first kiss with the one I've managed to get them together with. I'd love to talk to someone on the day they have their first child or even when their sports team finally wins a championship. But what I've seen, Billy, is that most folks don't have time for me on those days. The good news, really, is I have lots of time and loads of patience. I'll just keep waiting for them to come to me and shut up for a second. Then I'll share. And then they'll listen.
I hear you.
Do you really? Really?

A look at our selves, false and otherwise

2012-02-13T07:06:00.002-06:00

FEB. 13, 3:35 P.M. -- WE REFLECT ON THE FALSE SELF
As we concluded the day's lectures at the Academy of Spiritual Formation's first day, we were asked (and you get to come along for the ride) to ponder this:
In the light of the meaning of "glory" (the deep inner nature that defines a person -- God), what does it mean to glorify God?
What has been the deepest hope of your life?
Where do you see evidences of the False Self in your life?
What is God calling you to now?

I found it amazing that as I begin a five-week sermon series on Christian Hope this Sunday, I find myself at a five-day academy whose first day is dedicated to Christian Hope. Amazing, huh?

I was taken by the fact that our lecturer pointed out that Christian Hope is not about eternal destination. That, Bob Mulholland said, is a by-product. Instead, Mulholland said, our hope is that we will become Christ-like.

And that is my deepest hope. I am a sinner, still. I fall, not necessarily daily any longer, but I would say that every other day is about right. I fall to different sins, to ego and pride and to looking at things I shouldn't look at or feeling things I shouldn't feel or putting that false identity front and center.

Paul, Mulholland said, did that on occasion as well. Paul said we have all fallen short of the glory of God. What he meant, I learned this afternoon, was that the image, the nature of God that is His glory, is what we are all hoping against hope (as Paul wrote in the fourth chapter of Romans) to discover in us. But we all fall short. We all fall short of the nature of God. We are not, therefore, perfect in terms of glory, or nature. I fall short.

That would be my deepest hope today. That is why I'm here, in Woodworth, that goes beyond continuing education points and any other reason. I pray that the nature of God would over time begin to replace that false self I've tried so desperately to have removed.

Mulholland asked the question (and I ask you dear reader), "if we are going to lose our self (as Jesus suggests we do), what are we replacing it with?" Ponder that this evening. You might not be at a physical spiritual retreat, but turn off the television, find a Bible, read some of the scriptures on glory (Col. 3:16; Col. 4:3; Col. 1:25-27: John 1:14; John 17:5, etc.) and ponder the question.

I've always seen those types of questions so meaningful because they point me to a position in life that I know I must obtain, but like Paul in Romans Chapter 7, that's who I want to be but that's not who I am. Yet.

As we head toward evening prayers, toward evening discussions, toward evening silence, I look for that glory of God in a new, fresh, crisp, different manner. I pray you do as well.

Shalom.

FEB. 13, 10:15 A.M. -- WE REFLECT ON SABBATH

Our questions to ponder...
Where in your life and work do you have "too much of a good thing, too many logs packed in too tightly?"
What do you know about breathing space? What practices do you use to help you build open spaces between the logs?
How do you decide which logs to burn and which to lay aside?
What warmth and light want to emerge from your fire?

I'm staring out a sliding glass door onto the lake at the Wesley Center in Woodworth, La. It is gently firmly raining right now, and there is no edge, no horizon to the sky. There are no clouds, no spacing of blue and somber gray. It only is, if you know what I mean. The sky has been assaulted by water, like a dam overflowing.

I've been told to ponder, so ponder I am doing, and what I've discovered on but the first whole day of replenishment is that I don't do spiritual replenishment well. To do that well, well, I would have to stop, to step back, to let go, to let my mind very purposefully stop. No next sermon. No next sermon series. No next bill to pay. No next hospital visit to make. No calendar to calendar.

I'm not saying I'm incapable of being lazy. No, not at all. I'm built that way naturally. What I do is nowhere near manual labor, and it never has been. I'm a writer, pastor, thinker. No bricks have been laid in my life.

But what I'm saying is that stepping back and letting the logs have separation per the question above, or letting work be separated from life or life from sabbath simply doesn't come naturally to me. Does it to you? Are you able to let the natural rhythm of day and night replicate peace and tranquility in the manner that Jesus did? Have you learned at some point in your life to take time to be, uh, holy? Have you found a place to be in the moment? Have you a place at all?

Mark 6 tells us, gently, to rest. Like a dog set to track, Jesus says, "Find it."

"The apostles returned to Jesus from their ministry tour (doesn't that sound familiar to me, by the way) and told him all they had done and taught. (LOOK CAREFULLY AT THE NEXT SENTENCE, VERSE 31 IN MARK 6) Then Jesus said, 'Let's go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile. He said this because there were so many people coming and going that Jesus and his apostles didn't even have time to eat."

Instead of having a party to celebrate the magical ministry tour of the apostles, apart from Jesus, the Messiah says basically, let's go off by ourselves and do, well, NOTHING. Let's find some quiet, dig a spiritual hole where we can place all our spiritual baggage, where we can bury all our spiritual pain, where we can get rid of our ego and pride and stuff that gives us such terrible spiritual back aches. Let's sit back and absorb. Let's separate the logs some so that when the fire is stoked, the explosion of worthy of God's big bang.

Have you done this lately? I suspect not. I know that's why I'm here. Not to find myself. I've got plenty of myself. No, I'm here to find more of Jesus, in that quiet place where the Messiah is King of Kings and perhaps most importantly is Prince of Peace.

We're in a silent period at the retreat again. I'm in my "hotel," and the only noise is my typing, the occasional gulp of my fifth cup of coffee this morning and my chewing on some fine peanuts. Oh, and the heater is pumping some warm dry air into the room.

I'm thinking deeply about that rain falling, so soft, so gentle, so cold and so much of it. The rain is helping me slow down for I do not want to run out into the cold, dampness to return to our "chapel." In other words, without the help of the rain, I might never have gotten into this room and simply stopped my busy-ness to think about the sabbath God wants us all to take.

What about you? Do you find time during your day to rest, stop, think, ponder? Jesus tells you and I some simple but direct information: "Let's you and I go off b y ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile." Let's rest. Let's be quiet. Let's be silent, in fact.

FEB. 13, 7 A.M. -- THE GRAY DAY BEGINS

I poured myself a cup of coffee that steamed as if it were fog coming off the moors this early morn. I squeezed some honey into the cup for reasons I'm unaware since I never do that. It simply seemed the thing to do.

We had been silent since 9:30 p.m. on Sunday, at the end of a long, long day. I had preached at two churches, two sermons, driven then from Covington, La., to Woodworth, La., about 31/2 hours. When we finished our second bit of worship of the evening, we walked up stairs to our rooms in blessed silence. The day, the evening, the first time of worship, communion, teaching, and discussion before silence was done.

I awoke during the night with a terrible throat, a cough, that scared me and kept me awake for an hour. Still, I awoke mostly refreshed, though the coffee put a dent into the sleeplessness as well.

I read these words while sipping the coffee: "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. ...By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible."

Part of what this retreat is about is dividing into covenant groups. My group has some very interesting persons, among whom are a couple of liberals whom might not normally be ones who would spring to mind as coffee mates. God has a sense of humor about such, I think. Our "politics" and our "theology" I don't think would mesh normally. But here we are, with a cold north wind and drops of rain blowing in, and covenant time scheduled within the hour.

The assurance of things hoped for is what we're striving to achieve today. We're going to have worship, in song, in psalm, in prayer. We're going to talk about things that interest us and motivate us. We're going to seek those hoped for things. Why? I think it's because none of us believe we've gone far enough down the road of salvation that we still don't need to stick out our thumb and get a ride or two. That's the assurance we seek, that God, our Father, our adoption-minded, agape-oriented parent still wants to run down the road to us, gathering us as prodigals all, and letting marvelous barrels of love come pouring onto us.

That cleared my hurting throat, dried my damp shoes and prepared my heart and mind for some grits and some bread of life. That's assurance, by any other name.

I will be writing at numerous times today, so grab it as many times as you choose.

How deep is your love?

2012-02-10T08:35:00.000-06:00

Okay, I've figured out something and that, my friends and casual readers, is something special. I've figured out, as I head on Sunday for a five-day spiritual retreat, that I'm perhaps more undisciplined than the retreat (and life in general) demands.

I have no, what they call in the book I was required to read that I poured through sort of, discipline. Never had it. Perhaps, only perhaps, never will. I can't rise early and work on my relationship with Jesus, though I indeed want to go deeper. I can't. I tried. All I really felt was sleepy. I can't fast. Again, all I really felt was hungry. I can't go deeper in my prayer-life though I really do want to.

So where does this leave us? Well, I'm apparently pretty good with the confession part.

Look, I'm being fairly whimsical about this, and I don't really mean to. But I looked back deeply into my past this week as I prepared for next week, and what I saw was total, uh, undiscipline. The reason I'm not a better guitar player is the hours of practice it would have required. The reason I don't sing better is the lessons it would have taken (and lack of voice, but that's another thing). Even the writing comes straight from whatever gift God gave me because I never really studied the how tos in school. I just wrote.

I love Jesus with whatever of my heart I can give. I serve with all that I know how. I do what I can, and I fail at much of what I try. But through it all, what I do is without true difficult discipline.

I know. And I believe God does to because scripture says He knows my heart, my being. How about you readers? Do you have the discipline to go deeper? Have you tried? Will you try?

Next week (you read it first here) I'm going to rise at 6 a.m. and write to you my devoted ones. Part of it is I'm scared to not write for you might give up and I can't imagine that. Part of it is I'm going to use next week as a journal of the heart, mind and soul.

Take those steps with me. And if I have typos, remember, I'm sleepy.

Locked doors and hearts

2012-02-09T08:29:00.000-06:00

This sentence sequence has always attracted me, astonished me, intrigued me...."It was late that Sunday evening and the disciples were gathered together behind locked doors, because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities. Then Jesus came and stood among them."

Note what isn't there. No mention of Jesus opening that dang door. Did he simply appear? Did he make it through the locked door? Or did the writer simply forget to mention that?

In any case, I think the more important part of the sequence is the fact that the disciples were gathered together behind locked doors.

Frankly, I think my churches are doing the same. They, me, are not bringing new people in, and I wonder if it is because we've locked our doors to the non-believing public.

But it's not just that. We've, many of us, locked our own doors and even the doors of our hearts to Jesus. Oh, we say we haven't, but like me, we don't put in the time or the discipline to actually worship him or develop a deeper relationship with him. I'm going to a retreat next week to do that very thing, and honestly, I don't know that I can even do what they propose we can do. My heart is closed and I haven't gotten in the car yet.

I read this recently: "Many have suggested God respects locked doors and the heart is always locked from the inside with no handle on the outside. I suggest God will respect our choice without the locks, and, at the same time appear in our hearts to shine a little light through the windows of our minds—like sunshine comes into a dark room to make it brighten—unless we pull the shades. He won’t come live with us without an invitation, but He will knock in some unique ways. And when we’ve atrophied our will to the point that we no longer have the ability to open the door to Him, He will just appear next to us on the floor where we’ve fallen, if we call to Him for help."

Where's my key?

How to be saved once and for all

2012-02-08T08:37:00.000-06:00

I looked down this morning and saw this notation from the writer of John's Gospel:³⁰ Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. ³¹ But these are written that you may believethat Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name."

Amazingly, that's not even the end of that gospel.

I stuck on that little out-of-place memo for a moment. Let's see, the book was not written to punish, to make people act a certain way, or that anyone might be different than they are. It was written that anyone -- heck, everyone -- might have life in his name (eternally) by simply believing that Jesus is the Messiah, is the Son of God, is the promised deliverer, is the savior of us all.

That's so important because it means all the miracles were purposeful. All the teaching was purposeful. All the love that was transmitted was with purpose.

So that you, and I, would have life with Jesus.

For all the people who claim those who believe that want others to be something they are not (in all that the phrase might mean), you're not getting it.

In the 10th chapter of Romans, Paul wrote that "If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved."

Nothing more, nothing less. John's Gospel points to that sentence in Paul's theological masterpiece. Anyone who has told you that you must do more than that is not reading correctly, in my opinion.

That's the purpose of the Gospel, the good news. Jesus came to save. You will be saved if your heart believes Jesus is the Messiah. Period.

Now, what a wonderful morning.

Love means so much more

2012-02-07T08:32:00.002-06:00

I owe a gentlemen in a Kairos prison ministry these observations.

This is the story of the day from John's Gospel:

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, 'Simon, son of John, do you love (agapao) me more than these?' He said to him, 'Yes, Lord; you know that I love (phileo) you.' He said to him, 'Feed my lambs.' [16] He said to him a second time,'"Simon, son of John, do you love (agapao) me?' He said to him, 'Yes, Lord; you know that I love (phileo) you.' He said to him, 'Tend my sheep.' [17] He said to him the third time, 'Simon, son of John, do you love (phileo) me?' Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, 'Do you love (phileo) me?' and he said to him, 'Lord, you know everything; you know that I love (phileo) you.' Jesus said to him, 'Feed my sheep.'" (John 21:15-17)

There's a lot here beyond what you read. In the Greek, the word Peter uses here is philio or brotherly love. The word Jesus uses is agapao or agape or unconditional love. Say it again. Jesus says do you love me unconditionally? Peter answers that he loves him as brothers love brothers. The third time Jesus asks, he uses the word philio, coming down to Peter's level because Peter couldn't come to him, couldn't love him more than that because we humans simply are incapable much of the time.

There's also the change from taking care to feeding but let's stick with love this morning.

Let's work the translations first.
Agape means the following: to be fond of, to love dearly; to love, to be full of good-will, to have a preference for, regard the welfare of: . . . to take pleasure in the thing, prize it above other things, be unwilling to abandon it or do without it; a spontaneous feeling which impels to self-giving, the weak sense to be satisfied, to receive, to greet, to honor, or more inwardly, to seek after; to have love for someone or something, based on sincere appreciation and high regard.

Phileo means the following: friendship, to be friendly to one; phileo more nearly represents tender affection; To love; to be friendly to one, to treat somebody as one of one's own people; to have love or affection for someone or something based on association; love, have affection for, like.". . . It would, however, be quite wrong to assume that [phileo and philia] refer only to human love, while [agapao and agape] refer to divine love. Both sets of terms are used for the total range of loving relations between people, between people and God, and between God and Jesus Christ."

Is there a difference, a quantitative difference in the kind of love Jesus was talking about? I'm not at all sure there is, but this I know: I fall way, way short of each of them much of the time.

I've walked the edge of the Sea of Galilee where Jesus supposedly was standing while Peter was fishing and first saw his Lord. I've stood in front of the rock that tradition says Jesus cooked fish for breakfast for Peter that morning he had this conversation with him.

And there are hungry people all around me this morning, and that hunger is for far more than bread. Some don't even realize their hunger or the focus of their hunger.

Can we begin to feed his sheep? Can we? This world is hungry for spiritual feeding, my friends. While we practice our indifference, his sheep go hungry.

How big is your God?

2012-02-06T08:20:00.000-06:00

It was a simple question to a group of six kids at church yesterday:

How big is God?

The answers were charming: Humongous, one said. Giant, one said. Unmeasurable, one said.

Then came the answer of the day: He has two feet.

I'm not too sure where that answer fits in, but I know it was from the heart as well as the man. God has two feet. He also, the child said, has two hands.

In other words, in the child's mind's eye, God has human attributes. He has two hands and two feet.

How big is your God, I ask.

Let's put it this way:

Astronomers estimate that there are as many galaxies outside the Milky Way as there are stars in it. The Hubble Ultra Deep Field, taken in 2004, imaged 10,000 galaxies in a cone of space so slim you could cover it with a grain of sand held at arm's length. Integrated over the entire sky, that would mean there are more than 100 billion galaxies in the visible universe, many with more than 100 billion stars each. According to Psalm 147:4, God calls them all by name.

I also asked the kids if you could measure God by time, pointing to a watch. They were unanimous in thinking that was not possible, though I wonder if they understood why.

Contemplating such things is humbling, but also raises questions. Can such a God as that, who watches over such a big, big universe care about little ol' me? It's important to understand the Biblical doctrine of omnipresence in answering this question. Learning that God is everywhere does not mean that part of Him is here, part there, and part in a distant galaxy, as if His love were spread thinly across all of space. No; omnipresence means that all of God is present at every place, at the same time.

I guess then the question rightfully placed is how big is YOUR God? Big enough to answer and big enough simply to listen, I would hope. Big enough to deal with your problems and big enough to deal with the big picture. Big enough to care, I pray.

No you don't

2012-02-03T08:28:00.000-06:00

The life-long journey with the word no has taken me to many places both good and bad. Now, for example, I even live in NO (New Orleans). I've often lived in a world of no, though.

No isn't a popular word, I would imagine, for most folks. For me, well, it is a word that I've always had difficulty with. Saying it. Meaning it. I had trouble saying no to the kids. I had trouble saying no to things that could harm me. I had trouble saying no PERIOD.

Others are no different. I just read the report this morning of Texas Rangers outfielder Josh Hamilton who apparently has relapsed in his battle with alcohol. See, the biggest problem addicts have when you get right down to it is the inability to say no. I pray for him this morning.

This notion of no began early. In Genesis we read, "¹⁶ And the LORD God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; ¹⁷ but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.” Not is just another form of no, you know.

It is with great irony, then, now that I'm in the business of making disciples, and believe me despite my best prayer efforts to the contrary it still is a business, I have trouble with others saying no. To me. My flesh cries out in pain when I keep asking and others keep saying, NO.

Ask them to church. No.
Ask them to volunteer. No.
Ask them to join. No.
Ask them to prison ministry, to habit for humanity, etc. It's 24-hours of no.

Like Jonah, like David, like Joshua, like Moses, like so many, many others who said no at least initially when called by God, many if not most folks say no today. Church attendance is going straight downward because of one little word. No.

This week I've had four persons move membership from out church. Though I did not know three of them, it still stung. It is no, no, no and no. I know it is no-t about me, but still, no is like a flashfire coming quick and leaving a blackened area a while.

How does one overcome the nos of the world? Literally of the world. How can one become so dispossessed beging told no doesn't hurt, sting, bruise?

I assume one must begin to understand just how many nos Jesus had to face. Over and over and over Jesus had to have heard or felt or seen the crowds say no. He fed 5,000 plus. Five or so were there to watch him bleed out on the cross. What that must have felt like. The crowd said no. No I won't come. No I won't stand. No I won't love.

I believe that we can learn from Jesus that it how we react to the people saying no to us that will help determine how we live.

No tomorrow. No hope. No return. No, no, no. No doubt. No nonsense. No threat. No, no, no. No shoes radio. No looking back. No shirt, no shoes, no service. No chance, no way, no how, Dr. No.

It is just plain easier, now, to say no. No, I won't help. No, I won't go. No, I'm too busy. No. No. No.

That's why it still amazes me after all these years that when Mary was called to bear the baby that we would learn was named Jesus, she said yes. Every fiber of my being says that no would have been a perfectly reasonable response to unwed motherhood at a young age when that sort of thing would get you stoned.

So, if the most important question ever asked of a human was answered in the affirmative, how can I say anything but .... yes.

It's all changing

2012-02-02T08:24:00.000-06:00

Did you read the story about the weather?

That's because another weather phenomena, called the North Atlantic oscillation is playing oddball by staying positive and keeping the cold away from the rest of North America. About 90 percent of the time, the North Atlantic and Arctic oscillations are in synch, Halpert said. But not this time, so much of the United States is escaping the winter's worst. What's happening isn't just an inconvenience.

Trees and plants budding early may lose their chance to bloom when the inevitable deep freeze returns, said U.S. Geological Survey ecologist Jake Weltzin, who heads a national network that monitors the timing of spring for plants and animals. He said peach trees are budding in Georgia and in Oklahoma forsythia and daffodils have been out for two weeks now, adding "it's happening everywhere."

In other words, it's warm. This morning I awoke to a very warm, very foggy day. Halfway through the month of February, the forecast calls for nothing lower than the high 40s.

The point? Things are changing. They always are. But just like with everything else, it is up to us to make something of the changes.

The Bible says of change:
God does not.
We have the opportunity to.
If we don't change, and become like children, we will not enter the kingdom.

Change is both good and not so much. Change is something to be expected and accepted.

I've said many times I embrace change; I just don't like going through it. As I go find a short-sleeved shirt to put on to go out to meet the February day, it is worth noting that change is something politicians promise. See what that's gotten us.

A crisis of faith with Christ

2012-02-01T07:32:00.001-06:00

One of the sadder words in scripture comes when John the Baptist is jailed, mere hours I suspect from his death by beheading. He, so sure of his cousin before when they came together one day at the Jordan River, is now questioning everything. It is a crisis of faith that John is dealing with.

The Bible tells the story like this in the seventh chapter of Luke ..."19 Summoning two of his disciples, John sent them to the Lord, saying, “Are you the expected one, or do we look for someone else?” 20 When the men came to Him, they said, “John the Baptist has sent us to You, to ask, ‘Are you the expected one, or do we look for someone else?’ ” 21 At that very time He cured many people of diseases and afflictions and evil spirits; and He gave sight to many who were blind. 22 And He answered and said to them, “Go and report to John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the Gospel preached to them. 23 “Blessed is he who does not take offense at Me.”

Wow. John the Baptist, Greatest human of them all according to Jesus, was questioning his own belief structure, his own faith. "Are you the expected one or did I mess all this up," John is saying. I believe he's thinking, "hey, I'm in prison and my cousin, the Lamb of God who came to save the world as I proclaimed him, is not running Romans out of town, is not acting the way I think Messiah's are supposed to act. And did I say, I'm IN PRISON? Did I back the wrong horse in this race?"

Notice that Jesus never answers the question directly, but simply gives his resume as if to say, is there someone else who could do all this? Isn't this the way a messiah would do things? Isn't this the way Isaiah said the Messiah would operate? Did you not read the prophecy?

In his book “Disappointment with God” Philip Yancey helps put a voice to the questions expressed in a crisis of faith that many believers are afraid to ask and takes us through to the stunning conclusion that despite the appearance of things God can be trusted with the end results. He quotes a man named Douglas: “We tend to think life should be fair because God is fair. But God is not life. And if I confuse God with the physical reality of life – by expecting constant good health, for example – then I set myself up for a crushing disappointment.”

But what does Jesus mean by that last statement? Jesus is saying, I think, happy are those who are not scandalized by me, happy are those who are not repelled because of me. Or to put it another way more clearly, I think: Just because I’m not doing what YOU think I should be doing, does not mean I’m not the Messiah. Happy are those who don’t get shoved away by who Jesus is.

Wow. You mean God doesn't meet our own expectations? Maybe ever? Then what's this Christianity all about?

John thought Jesus was going to be some sort of version of him -- outspoken, brash, coming to plow the fields of the sinners, making them repent on the spot by his guilt-producing statements. Jesus was a lot of things, but another John was not one of them.

Ultimately, Jesus’ identity as the son of God is not dependent upon us calling him that. He IS the son of God whether you or I or John the Baptist or Pilate or the sinner Saul before becoming the saint Paul recognizes it. Happy are those who don’t stumble over their own expectations of who Jesus is in light of what Jesus is doing.

Happy then are those who join the Kairos ministry and help prisoners feel the freedom that is belief in Jesus Christ. Happy are those who serve in soup kitchens or nursing homes or in schools or anywhere the poor, the helpless, the least of these exist because they recognize that doing so is serving Christ himself. Beyond self-righteous church-goers with their white-picket fences and prayers that go no further than their own ceilings and their less than helpful religion lies Jesus on the mount or on the plain.

I've gotten in trouble before with alcoholics devoted to the very worthy Alcoholics Anonymous program because I have said from the pulpit that one doesn't get to worship the deity of one's own choosing, as the program declares. Jesus is the son of God no matter what we think or believe. God is Jehovah, no matter what we believe. We do not get to choose our own deity, for God is God. Or more rightly said, we can choose our own deity, but that doesn't make him, her or it God. We can worship a chair, but that doesn't make the chair capable of giving us peace.

A crisis in faith does not change who God is, nor what his word is saying. In fact when you step out of the boat and begin to walk on the muddy water that is a crisis in faith, it is Jesus who we must look toward. He doesn’t change, He doesn’t waver, and He is the Almighty God in the flesh. He has fulfilled hundreds of prophecies to prove it and nothing we fear or experience is going to change that.

So the question becomes, when you are in crisis (of faith, finances, relationships, health) where do you turn? I believe there is only one place, and that is the man known as Jesus. I further believe that is what Christianity does for the Christian along with giving him or her eternal life (what a bonus). Turning to Jesus in times of crisis is the only way to survive the crisis peacefully. That's the only way, that's the only truth and that's the only life I know.

I tried it other ways. It didn't work. Only Jesus.

TC Black writes, "I have been there, I have sat in fear and trembling even hating the questions in my mind thinking them to be unspiritual, and fearing them to be some secret proof that my faith was either not real in the first place or at least not as strong as it ought to be. Worst of all, I have feared that it was only me – and that no-one else has ever encountered a crisis of faith. That is a lie. The Bible’s pages and history’s record of saints is filled with men and women who struggled with faith but who found victory when they took their struggles to Jesus and immersed themselves in His word.
Blessed are those who don’t take offense in who they find out Jesus really is."

To that we must proclaim from prison cells, and hospital beds, and retirement homes, and work places, and school yards, and even from government halls a health and well-earned AMEN.

Faith is

2012-01-31T08:38:00.002-06:00

Have you ever felt trapped? Felt you're going nowhere, as they say, pretty fast? Felt there was no one to talk to about it? I read about someone today who felt that way, and he sank like a rock.

The Bible tells us, "²⁶ When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.
²⁷ But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
²⁸ “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
²⁹ “Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. ³⁰ But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

We have the tendency to trash Peter. We've all heard sermons about how he took his eye off Jesus and he sank. We've all heard the sermons that talk about Peter's lack of faith. I'm much more struck by this: Peter says, "Lord, if it's you, tell me to come to you on the water." Jesus says come (which takes faith to believe, apparently, that ghosts always tell the truth), and Peter climbs out.

That he fails, it seems to me, is inconsequential. That he tried is of great consequence.

I get criticized many times for trying something, seeing if it sticks to the wall, and going on if it doesn't. It seems to me that trying is what we have to do. Succeeding is more in the arena of the all-powerful God.

Faith is getting out of the boat with expectation. Faith is believing there is a plan and we are included in it. Faith is accepting that without Jesus we're all going to sink.

Authority then and now

2012-01-30T08:38:00.000-06:00

Let's discuss authority today. It's a lost art, isn't it? The other day you saw the picture of the Arizona governor wagging a finger in the face of our president, and the pundits all went crazy about how that was disrespectful. My thought? It was disrespectful of the office. It was the man she was disagreeing with. See, we often think of authority as being the same as power, and there is no arguing that the office of the president is powerful. But the man must earn it, right?

Authority? Remember when the office and the man were highly thought of as if they were one? I remember when the president of the United States, for reasons I have no earthly idea, went riding by our school when I was way young. Waving to us. We all stood out there like little dummies waiting, then in five seconds or so the guy went by and we were waving fools. Then we were let loose to return to class.

Symbols and authority have existed for eons.

I read this today from John's Gospel: So Jesus answered them, "I tell you the truth; the Son can do nothing on his own; he does only what he sees his Father doing. What the Father does, the Son does also. For the Father loves the Son and shows him all that he himself is doing." In other words, Jesus' authority has been established because He and the Father are one.

Jesus' authority is a big issue in scripture. In Mark he tells a man, "¹⁰ But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” He has authority to forgive sins. In Mark he tells others, "The people were amazed at his teaching, because he taught them as one who had authority, not as the teachers of the law." He has authority to teach as if he had been given the right to. In Matthew, we see this exchange: Jesus entered the temple courts, and, while he was teaching, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him. “By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you this authority?” ²⁴ Jesus replied, “I will also ask you one question. If you answer me, I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things."

Authority was given Jesus by the Heavenly Father, we can figure. It means we can understand that the man and the office of the Son of God were one and completely worthy of his authority.

The authority of the man in the office of the presidency isn't quite the same, is it? Just a thought.

That's some awe there

2012-01-27T08:12:00.000-06:00

Someone, somewhere said, "It's not how you start, but how you finish." That's nevermore true than in your spiritual walk, your walk with the man named Jesus. We live in a world where small groups for beginners in the faith are all the rage. But small groups for people who have been in the church for more than a decade are lagging greatly. Why? Because the start for Christians is much more exciting than the long walk home. At some point we understand we're in a marathon, not a 100-yard dash and the excitement begins to wear off.

It's not how you start, but how you finish. When Christians start, the glory of the Lord shines like the sun on a clear, cloudless day. Shine, Jesus, Shine, we sing, arms raised toward the heavens, an unspeakable joy filling out hearts and our minds. Can't wait to get there. Can't wait to sing praises. Can't wait. Period.

But then, time passes inevitably, slowly, crawling like the ticker messages underneath ESPN's programing.

Listen and imagine the early church: "Many miracles and wonders were being done through the apostles, and everyone will filled with awe. All the believers continued together in close fellowship and shared their belongings with one another. They would sell their property and possessions, and distribute the money among all, according to what each one needed. Day after day they met as a group in the Temple, and they had their meals together in their homes, eating with glad and humble hearts, praising God and enjoying the good will of all the people. And every day the Lord added to their group those who were being saved."

Imagine, just imagine, completing what you do for a living and heading to the (church) for a group meeting on a daily basis, then breaking into smaller groups and eating meals together. This is your life. You do this without question, bringing your children into the midst of other believers. Aweeeeeesomeeeeeeeee.

Imagine, just imagine professions of faith on a daily basis. Imagine growth of the church, daily.Oh, how awesome it would, could be.

But of all those words in all those sentences the fraction of a phrase that intrigues me most is this one: "and everyone was filled with awe." That's the way, certainly, I felt at the beginning. Didn't you? Wasn't your early walk flat out awesome? I remember loving to simply worship, loving to forge a path through the unknown of scripture, loving the search for those joy moments with the Lord daily. I really mean that. Daily there was something new and exciting and, well, awesome.

God was, as Rich Mullins told us back then, an awesome God. Even Rich died, though, and those moments became much more mundane, didn't they?

Today, though, I ask myself this: Is my daily walk still filled with awesome?

In the judgment of Jesus on the seven churches in Revelation, perhaps the most severe is what he says about Ephesus, one of the early churches. Jesus said, "But this is what I have against you; you do not love me now as you did at first. Think how far you have fallen."

Jesus fed 5,000 men at one point, which probably means he fed closer to 8,000 counting women and children. They were filled with awe as well as fish and loaves.

When he screamed to the heavens, "it is finished," there were about five persons at the foot of the cross. Where did the awesome feeling go for the other 7,000 plus? I can see the persons walking away from him that last week. "SHHhhhhhh," the parents said late in the week to the children who wanted to play with Jesus, after he rode that blamed donkey into the city at the beginning of the week.

Now, there's merit to growing in Christ, to get beyond the awe-filled days perhaps. I once had a person say to me that on a scale of 1-10, you want to live your days as fives. In other words, not too high or too low. I get that. I also get that most early Christians want to keep that feeling of awesome going. The problem is it's not how you start, but how you finish. It's always going to be a walk, a ride, a journey. Eventually, if effort to keep feeling awesome supplants simply living God's awesomeness then what we're left with is work instead of awesome relationship. And we fail and fall.

When Jesus took Peter, James and John to the mountain top (an awesome experience if there ever was), Peter wanted to build tents (housing) for those he saw. He wanted to stay there. Peter, who had walked with Jesus, seen miracle after miracle, wanted to keep that awesome feeling forever.

That's how it starts. Some build their whole religious experience around that "awesome" feeling, that mountaintop experience. But it's how you finish, not start, that is vital. Are we finishing spiritually with a love of God through his Son Jesus as described by His Spirit that speaks clear tones of awesomeness? Are we still loving the way we were? Are we still allowing Him to love us in the same manner as we did at the beginning?

The truth is awesomeness of God on the mountaintop is fleeing. Sooner or later, you must leave the mountaintop and go into the valley. Still, when that mountaintop experience, that awesomeness feeling, begins to wane, we are giving an incredible opportunity to open our souls to allow Christ to come in and stay. That being said, I ask again, is your daily walk, up and down though it is, filled with awe? Are we awed by the suffering moments? Are we in awe of the blessings that come not nearly as regularly as those challenges? Are we awed that an all-powerful God would have anything to do with a sinful persons such as we are?

Did you start with an incredible, words-can't-describe-kind of worship, prayer-life, spiritual walk? Has that walk been filled with potholes lately? Are you, for lack of a better word, bored with your relationship with Jesus, with the church, with the body of Christ, with the volunteering efforts of your church, of your friends, or of your family? It's okay to talk about it here. It's almost a secret there are so few persons reading this and less than that responding. Besides, God already knows.

It the awe gone, leaving just the some?

What do we do?

Here's the magic rub on the side of the genie-filled bottle. What we do is surrender, relax, allow God to be God in our lives. Open your self to a new way of thinking, living, being.

The simple answer is that we find the glory of God all around us. Everywhere we turn, we can see the glory of God — if our eyes and our hearts are open to God’s presence. The thing is, as we live out the days of our lives, most of us are never going to see a shining figure, or hear a voice from the clouds. However, I also think that most of us, if not all of us, have, at one time or another, experienced something unusual. That something unusual, even after a years-long, long spiritual walk, is what we call awesome. Still, Just as awesome at the end as it was at the beginning. It's the consistency of the walk that is truly, truly awesome.

In the midst of your day-to-day grind, suddenly the future became clear, suddenly you could see God’s will for your life. During the middle of a busy workday, you suddenly felt a need for prayer, an overwhelming urge to commune with God. In the midst of one of life’s struggles, when times were hard and the future looked dark, the meaning of the Gospel and the nature of God came shining through, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

Awesome. It's still awesome. It's a perfect fried egg after eating fried eggs for decades. It's a sunset as warm and inviting as a Hallmark Card. It's rainbows and it's rainstorms. It's the look you give your spouse after 25-plus years and it's the same look you gave him or her when you were first married. It's love, and it's awesome. Same with the look you give an unseen God when you reach something in the Gospels that seems to be new and previously unknown.

We need to be careful not to fall asleep on our way up the mountain. If we become satisfied with the way things are, falling asleep is very easy to do. I don’t know about you, but it’s after a big meal, when I’m really satisfied, that I’m most likely to fall asleep.

In our churches, sometimes we become too satisfied. Maybe we’ve got a good crowd coming; if we had any more, we might have to start thinking about adding on to our building, and Lord knows how expensive that would be. We feel good about our worship services, our prayer life is fine — everything’s going good. We’re satisfied, and that’s when we get into trouble.

Christ didn’t call us to be satisfied. If I remember correctly, something was said about taking up our cross, and following Christ. I once heard that “God comforts us in our afflictions, and afflicts us in our comforts.” There is nothing more dangerous to the kingdom of God than a comfortable church or a comfortable Christian, reveling in the same ole, same ole, rejecting even the effort to find the awesomeness in life again. We have to be careful not to become satisfied with where we are. We have to continue to follow Christ, all the way up the mountain, back down the mountain, into the valley, out onto the plain, near the river, onto the lake.

All of the walk with Jesus should be seen as potentially an awesome moment. Then when awesome breaks out, we simply revel in it instead of being shocked.

That's awesome, isn't it?

The witness protection program

2012-01-26T07:41:00.001-06:00

Peter stood up before thousands and preached (for the first time); "God has raised this very Jesus from death, and we are all witnesses to this fact."

Witnesses.

Does that accurately describe your life? My life?

We are called to be witnesses to the death-raising. We are called to be witnesses to a change in our lives so that we can tell others about this fact. FACT.

So, let's examine what it means (briefly) to witness.

Christians are called to adhere to the following principles as they seek to fulfil Christ's commission in an appropriate manner, particularly within interreligious contexts.

1. Acting in God's love. Christians believe that God is the source of all love and, accordingly, in their witness they are called to live lives of love and to love their neighbour as themselves (cf. Matthew 22:34-40; John 14:15).

2. Imitating Jesus Christ. In all aspects of life, and especially in their witness, Christians are called to follow the example and teachings of Jesus Christ, sharing his love, giving glory and honour to God the Father in the power of the Holy Spirit (cf. John 20:21-23).
3. Christian virtues. Christians are called to conduct themselves with integrity, charity, compassion and humility, and to overcome all arrogance, condescension and disparagement (cf. Galatians 5:22).

4. Acts of service and justice. Christians are called to act justly and to love tenderly (cf. Micah 6:8). They are further called to serve others and in so doing to recognize Christ in the least of their sisters and brothers (cf. Matthew 25:45). Acts of service, such as providing education, health care, relief services and acts of justice and advocacy are an integral part of witnessing to the gospel. The exploitation of situations of poverty and need has no place in Christian outreach.Christians should denounce and refrain from offering all forms of allurements, including financial incentives and rewards, in their acts of service.
Is that how you're living? Is that how you want to live? Act justly, love tenderly, serve others?

All I know is we're having a difficult time getting volunteers for Kairos prison ministry at RCC in Bogalusa. Seems we would have to turn people away.

Maybe our witness isn't strong enough.

It's all so taxing

2012-01-25T08:42:00.001-06:00

Let's talk something I understand little of this morning. Let's talk taxes. Here's what I know: I am taxed. I pay. Sometimes they pay me back. I know little else.

I know that this year, an election year, there will be much talk about tax rates. Both sides have staked a flag in the dirt of fair tax rates. Both sides will say that the fairness of tax rates is one of the most important of issues in this financial driven presidential race.

What is fair? Should we pay taxes to this government? Should their be equality in our system for the poor and the rich?

I do not know my tax rate, though I'm confident my very educated readership knows theirs. I pay. Sometimes they pay me back. That's my tax knowledge taken from years and years of tax reform pondering (or simply from getting or not getting a refund).

Tuesday night our president talked quite a bit about the fairness and equality of our tax rates. "We don't begrudge financial success in this country. We admire it," Obama insisted. "When Americans talk about folks like me paying my fair share of taxes, it's not because they envy the rich. It's because they understand that when I get tax breaks I don't need and the country can't afford, it either adds to the deficit, or somebody else has to make up the difference."

Really. Is that what it means? I read a story yesterday about the huge numbers of CEOs in this country making more than $50 million. I suspect others read the same story, I equally suspect that the readers of that story thought first they wished they could earn that many. I suspect, also, that many didn't think first about the fairness of that person's tax rates. I just don't think that.

I pay. Sometimes they pay me back. I don't actually know what tax breaks I need or get. My tax lady, Toni, knows this stuff I assume, though I do not actually know this. So I don't know if I'm the one who has caused this deficit everyone seems to be talking about or not. It could be on me. I pay. Sometimes they pay me back.

In my constant seeking of knowledge, I did a word-search for "tax" in the Bible. In the NIV, there were 10 references. Ten. I'm going to let you look them up.

They are:
1 Samuel 17:25
Ezra 4:13
Ezra 4:20
Ezra 7:24 (Ezra was a popular tax consultant, apparently)
Matthew 17:25
Luke 20:20
Luke 20:22
Luke 23:2
Romans 13:6
Romans 13:7

That's it, compadre. The whole enchilada. The whole, uh, dish. The most famous, or course, is that time in Luke's Gospel where Jesus was asked about paying taxes and the answer, bottom line, was pay to Caesar what was Caesar's and pay to God what was God's. It's almost like the question of tithing: Do you tithe on the gross or the net?

But for our purposes this morning, I suspect the Ezra line is most important. Again it reads, "Furthermore, the king should know that if this city is built and its walls are restored, no more taxes, tribute or duty will be paid, and eventually the royal revenues will suffer." In other words, if no taxes are taken up, the government's resources will suffer. Eventually, it goes without writing or saying, the government will not be able to help its own people.

Where's the fairness and equity in that? Again, I pay and I get paid. I know little more than that. Except, except this: I suspect that many of those (I suspect but don't know) gazillionares who are being taxed sometimes at lower rates than many of the middle-class because of what is know affectionately as tax-loopholes, aren't tithers, but the loopholes they're using are often those used for charities. If they aren't giving, who will?

In the end, Jesus was far more interested in us giving to God what is his I suspect than us giving to the Emperor what is his. He was far more interested in us being willing to give than in the giving itself in many ways. He was, I know, more interested in the heart and the interest in others than he was interested in the head and us doing something because it would help us with a loophole. Finally, I'm pretty darn sure he didn't make a big wage after he went into the ministry.

What is fair? I don't know. I pay. Sometimes I get paid.

The process of hoping

2012-01-24T09:10:00.001-06:00

My youngest daughter returned to college yesterday. We're not talking about missing a semester. We're talking about missing whole years. Missing time while getting a job, having a child, getting married, fighting with husband's ex-wife over custody, finding time to pay for bills, feed the dogs, move from a house being bought to one being rented and on and on. You know, living life so hard you become tired from simply living life?

So
very
tired.

I pray that her desire to better herself and her family is stronger than her desire to rest, which can flat out eat up hope if given half a chance. Not the rest, the desire to.

You understand what I mean? Being tired can gnaw on your hope like a carnivore chewing on the bone of a carcass. Sitting in a big ol' chair in the evening, wondering why you do what you do, getting out that ol' life-scale, the one you use to measure if doing what you do out-weighs what you want to do in the future, you get a big chunk of quit building up in you.

The ones who become whatever it is we call a success are the ones who learn to rest in whatever moments we're given to rest and then getting up and doing it all over again. The ones who fail are the ones who pull out not the quit card and throw it on the counter like some sort of remedy for their situation.

That kind of tired that eats at you, causes you to argue with even yourself, causes you to hate when you never feel that way otherwise, causes you to wonder and whine. That's the tired that sometimes causes what God called sin. Can't handle the problem any other way? Then ________. You fill in the blank with the sin you didn't want to commit but did.

In the seventh chapter of the book of Romans, Paul writes about this kind of tired (I believe): "I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway."

That's the kind of tiredness, loneliness, helplessness that leads our built-in sin nature, the inheritance that our father Adam was kind enough to leave us with, that is forcefully hidden inside to come out in ways we wished would never have been seen.

The cure? A savior, but not just any kind of savior, but a savior who understood going into silent retreat and spending quality, restful time with his Father is a restful, hopeful occurrence. He called these moments "prayer." Our savior understood that recharging our spiritual battery is a beautiful thing, a restful thing.

I was reading about this notion of rest this morning (perhaps I'm tired because I arose early to read about rest), and I was taken by this scripture:“‘I saw the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. ²⁶ Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest in hope,"

The interesting portion of the passage there to me is "my body will rest in hope."

Nowhere does it say that God will GIVE us anything as remedy to that cranky ol' tiredness. That's not the plan, Stan. No balm in Gilead. No salt in our sea. No healing. No exorcism. But think about what rest is. It is a remedy for tiredness, correct? It is a remedy for crankiness, remedy for problems, remedy for what my Mama used to say was "what ails you." It is short for restore or restoration, and God's plan from the beginning was to restore us to full communion with him once we fell in the Garden. Even God rested on the seventh day, you know.

Then, think about what is a good definition for peace. Some think that peace is the absence of conflict, but that's not true. Conflict will exist, in marriages, in professions, in even the things that give us the most joy. Conflict is what makes for good sporting games, good careers, good worship even. Without conflict, there is no victory. Therefore, peace -- the thing we long so desperately for I fear -- exists with conflict -- even perhaps because of conflict -- in the same way that we never knew what sin was till God gave us the Law. In the way the Law shines the light on the darkness of sin, conflict shines the spotlight on what peace is or what it can be. Conflict is to peace what the late Paul Harvey used to describe as "the rest of the story." The rest...get it?

In other words, peace is the result of the body resting -- in hope. Peace is a residue of the rest that is the remedy for tiredness, crankiness, problems, for what ails you.

When enemies surround you, the best we can do is let out bodies, our minds, our emotions, rest in hope. When illness comes, let our bodies rest in hope. When struggles, bills, oppression come, let our spirits rest in hope. Does rest eliminate the problem? Nah, unfortunately the problem might still be waiting for you once you return from your rest. No, no, no. But a rested spirit, body, emotions mean our struggles with our struggles were dissipated for at least the moment, and we are much more able to deal with those struggles after resting than before. Hope is unseen victory but expected all the same.

Therefore, I believe, peace and rest are the same things ... stepping back from the issue and letting God step in and relieve us from the anxiety that grew around the spiritual joints like so much painful arthritis.

It reminds me greatly of one of my five top scriptures, from Paul's writings in a letter to Roman Christians: "⁴ And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. ⁵ And this hope will not lead to disappointment."

University of Alabama football coach Nick Saban (speaking of conflict in Louisiana), calls what he does with his teams "the process." Everything is about the process, from the first practice of the fall to the championship game of the winter. Do the process, focus on the process, do what your job is in the process and good to great things can happen.

This is the Christian process (or should be): Problems to endurance to character to hope. Seems like hope would be at the beginning to me, but that's not the way it is. All we can hope for is hope. Hope that is seen, Paul says, is not hope.

Rest in your hope, friends. May God's hope give you rest. Somewhere in there is peace. And it does not disappoint. Never does it disappoint.

Life on earth discovered

2012-01-23T08:42:00.000-06:00

This morning on Yahoo news, I read that a Russian scientist says he has seen evidence of life on Venus. That is particularly surprising to me since I didn't think there were any more Russian scientists. Secondly, I wonder if the Ruskie scientists on Venus have seen evidence of life on Earth lately?

Headline writers get paid, as I well know, for their ability to capture the subject of the story in a few words. Such as, Joint committee investigates marijuana use. Or the headline, Blind woman gets kidney from father she hasn't seen in years. Or Astronaut takes blame for gas in spacecraft.

That there's some good writing, Pawpaw.

Let's explore (from this weekend, heck just this morning) actual headlines:

Evicted 101-year-old Detroit woman can't go home. She's 101. She's homeless. I reckon there isn't a headline that reflects more of this world today that this one. By the way, why does identifying her city matter is she's HOMELSSS? Does Detroit have an abundance of 101 homeless folks? Really.

Or how about Parents reveal child's gender (he's a he. His father actually said this, "I want to avoid all that stereotyping. Stereotype's seem fundamentally stupid." I have used enormous willpower in order not to do a joke about stupid right here, right now. Enormous willpower. Sasha, the five-year-old whose gender had been kept secret all these years, hasn't commented on the stupidity of his/her parents, however, so she/he apparently has the same willpower, thus rendering my silent vigil less important. I guess that the quality of that headline is just behind the If strike isn't settled quickly, it may last a while. The may in the headline should be might if we're nit-picking gramatically. That's the only thing wrong with it, right? Parents reveal that if the child's gender isn't settled quickly, it might last a while would seem to be better, huh?

Or the headlines Six hurt in sweet 16 birthday party shooting. Were they shooting a party? Or the headline Ohio man allegedly ties up daughter, locks her in cage. See above notation about location being used in headline. Does being from Ohio have bearing on this father's incredible stupidity and tragic parenting skills? Are we saying Ohio folks are more likely to tied up daughters and lock them in cages? I've always felt that way, but I wasn't sure others did. If that's not the case, why isn't the fact that six are hurt in shooting in California important? Are we saying that if they had been tied up and locked away liked those dastardly kids in Ohio, there wouldn't be shooting? Just asking.

How about the actual entertainment driven sparkling headline, Heidi Klum 'to divorce' from Seal. Questions, questions. Why do we need to have Heidi's first name if Seal has no last name at all? Do we know Seal that much more than Heidi? Why is 'to divorce' in single quotations? I read the whole story (which I wouldn't have otherwise, by the way, so maybe that's the reason), and they really 'are divorcing.' They had been married. They are divorcing. So why do we need single quotations? I don't know even after investing ten long puzzled minutes exploring this. Ten minutes I won't be 'getting back' anytime soon. It then dawned on me. Would I care equally if Laurel, Miss. native Klum to divorce Hattiesburg's Maurice Seal was written on the Internet Yahoo front page this morning?

'Single quotations,' by the way, are 'very forceful,' don't you 'think?'

Here's the thing. We live in a world dominated not by substance or depth (the story itself, well-written, well-researched) but by fluff (the headline), that light-weight, quick hitting, quickly read story. CNN, which pioneered the long-report for its 24-hour news, also pioneered Headline News.

Our spiffy little world today is about quick bits of information. We no longer have a news cycle. Instead, our 24-hour news is built around bits. Twitter is driven by letters, not depth. Facebook, though not as shiny and quick as its competition, is still bursts of information so tiny that we can't even spell out the whole words. You becomes u, for goodness sakes.

In newspapers or .com blogs of substance, often the headline, the well-written headline, constructed by paid personnel who graduated from journalism school to learn the proper way to do this, makes all the difference in the world.

Some one's son, who made straight As at some such as Missouri School of Journalism, wrote this: Divers recover Madonna intact from shipwreck chapel. I swear they did. It's so beautiful I can't even come up with a proper comment.

I've often wondered why Jesus came to the world in a time when there were no Psalmists, no Springsteens to comment in song, where the news cycle, well, was of no importance because there was no Jerusalem Post or even Roman Journal, and the Internet was so far from imagination even the Pharisees hadn't written a law against its use on Sundays.

Why wouldn't God have wanted Jesus to come when the news could have been easily obtained. Huge headline on the back page of the Palestine tabloid stating

     'BABY BORN IN BETHLEHEM
    SAID TO BE 'SAVIOR OF WORLD'
                         Hymns celebrating
                       peace on earth available
                      when local shooting stops

Or

King's 'men' kill six
children under two
for reasons unknown

or even

Gender of wise trio revealed
by camels 'closest to them'

Notice the use of the singe quote? It's importance can't be 'overstated.'

Work and worry can wait by the banks of river

2012-01-20T08:26:00.000-06:00

It was evening in Babylon. One suspects it was the end of a good day for Daniel as the sun set over the River Tigris amidst splinters of purples and rose.

Daniel, and other captives from the land of Israel, didn't always have spectacular days no matter what they've taught you in Sunday School. That word captive gives you an idea why. They had sinned. Judgment had struck. They were stuck in Babylon, but they hung on through their own type of captivity as they prayers of Godly men made their way to heaven.

We are often held captive by our own sins. I think we can agree on that position.

But even in the midst of our personal kind of captivity, I suspect we have had some of those sort of hours, minutes even, when we awake to find the wind has spewed a bit of warmth from the south. Maybe we can feel, oh, just a few fabulous moments of suspended time. Maybe we remember a time when a Saints receiver got his foot down in bounds in time for a fabulous, unexpected win, or one of our kids made an A on the pop quiz or our spouse's eyes dared stare deeply into ours with commitment and a sudden, insane amount of love. Earthly surprise after surprise comes as God blesses us in unknown and shocking new ways.

Maybe we can remember a few ragged, absolutely astonishing minutes when a gust of God's wind filled our dying sails, or had us sort of pulling the fat ol' home-made blanket up to our neckline as you nestled there on a cold morning without end. Work and worry can always wait, but smiles in God's time should never be put aside. They're too valuable.

Maybe we grasped that time when everything wrong built up. We suddenly understood that God blesses the last ones, the least ones, and though we were often a solitary leaf looking for a complimentary pile, we also knew that in the worst of moments, God's mercy could be like a summer afternoon rainstorm, like a gallon of sweet tea poured over our laughing face. Mercy, His mercy, takes away those staggeringly bad days.

After those God-fiven rains, the steam rises from old country roads. Then God mocks evolutionary thoughts, laughs at our meager creativity, grins at emergency room antics, and with a bit of flourish, I think, like a painter drunk with gallons of Red Bulls and filled with tons of imagination, he shoots pictures of HIS sky with a yet-to-be numbered pixel camera. HD? Come on, man. It's God shooting, drawing, painting, rainbowing. Beauty isn't in the eye of the beholder, it's in the eye of GOD.

Hear the Word that comes from the experience (in Daniel's ninth chapter): "I (Daniel) went on praying, confessing my sins and the sins of my people Israel and pleading with the Lord my God to restore his holy Temple."

One sentence, but a bloated one. Daniel prays. Daniel confesses HIS sins. Daniel confesses HIS PEOPLE'S SINS. Daniel pleads, begs, gets on the horn, pulls out the cell, digs out the number, and seeks time with the LORD HIS GOD so that HIS HOLY TEMPLE might be rebuilt.

Once sentence, but one filled with good stuff, huh?

Then, while Daniel was praying, pleading, confessing, begging, Gabriel (the scriptures tell us and Daniel) came FLYING DOWN to where Daniel was.

This morning as I plunk on these keys, it is dark outside. Still. It is 6:42 a.m. this moment, right here, right now as the song Here I Am To Worship plays, and there are only a couple of ribbons of light forcing their way into the darkness as if they were screwdrivers. Two years ago this day, I was seated outside the Garden Tomb just outside the walls of old Jerusalem in Israel. I could tell you about time and time change and all that but I never understood it while we were there, so I won't.

We had been taken inside the tomb to see what certainly appeared a spot that our dear Lord Jesus could have been placed after his crucifixion. In a sign of the times, my cell jingled like a cat chasing a bell. I knew immediately. I knew. A wonderful, wonderful trip was damaged instantly. My daughter, Carrie, was calling to let me know the status of my beloved dog Frankie. Dear Frankie was killed by something as simple as un-digested cat "litter" and something as terrible as cancer in the kidneys. He died on this day, or night as the case might have been, due to kidney complications.

Frankie was my bud, friend, brother. Jerome K. wrote of dogs, "They are superior to human beings as companions. They do not quarrel or argue with you. They never talk about themselves but listen to you while you talk about yourself, and keep up an appearance of being interested in the conversation." They are love and they are pain. They are help and hurt. They are the most giving of beings.

Two years is such a short period of time, but it seems an eternity since Frankie was next to me running his long nose under my hand to make me raise it and pet him. For such an unselfish being, Frankie sure could be selfish.

In the Message, Job says: "Human life is a struggle, isn't it? It's a life sentence to hard labor. Like field hands longing for quiting time and working stiffs with nothing to hope for but payday. I go to bed and think, 'How long till I can get up? I toss and turn as the night drags on -- and I'm fed up.

"God, don't forget that I'm only a puff of air," Job cries to the sky. "And so I'm not keeping one bit of this quiet, I'm laying it all our on the table, my complaining to high heaven is bitter, but honest. Are you going to put a muzzle on me, the way you quiet the sea and still the storm?"

Honestly, to this minute I hurt most by the fact that I wasn't there when Frankie died. I wasn't there to hold him as he took his last breath. I'm fully wracked with guilt that since he was smarter than David Lettermen and funnier than Jay Leno, he might have wondered 'where is he? Where is my master.' I wasn't there. I wasn't. For all my talk to him about how much I loved him, I wasn't there when it counted most.

Since Frankie died, we've doubled our efforts to save animals. We've brought in dachshunds Breezy and Copper and cats Rocky and the two outside adoptees, Catty and Miss Kitty. We've made sure the squabbles among the saved animals are small ones. We've fed and watched over and done everything we can for all we can.

But none of them are Frankie. I know none will ever be.

But that's fine. It truly is. My complaints are few even as my ministries grow.

I've grown closer to God through suffering, I expect. But perhaps I'll never grow as close as my man Daniel. I love his prayer, "O Lord our God, hear my prayer and pleading. Restore your Temple, which has been destroyed; restore it so that everyone will know that you are God. Listen to us, O God; look at us and see the trouble we are in and the suffering of the city that bears your name. We are praying to you because you are merciful, not because we have done right. Lord hear us, Lord, forgive us. Lord, listen to us, and act! In order that everyone will know that you are God, do not delay. This city and these people are yours!"

As I finished typing this portion of Daniel's long prayer, Shout to the Lord begins to play and it carries through.

I've told a couple of times my favorite part of the Israel trip. We were on the Sea of Galilee, with gentle waves and a sky stacked with thick white clouds as if they were boxes in a storage shed. As our boat rode one wave after another, we talked and talked and looked at the far mountains and thought of Jesus.

Then the boat's captain hit a switch and music joined us. First, Awesome God, my favorite contemporary Christian song played then Shout To The Lord fought through the mist-thickened air. Ear to heart, heart to soul.

We were on the water that Jesus walked on, on the water that Jesus rowed through and our praises like waves flooded the moment. Would Frankie be alive if we hadn't gone to Israel? Probably not. Would Frankie be whining right now, standing on skinny black legs, front one's scratching my bare legs, asking to be picked up and set down in my lap? Probably not.

That's not the point of any of this. The point is, "Daniel, I(Gabriel) have come to help you understand the prophecy. When you began to plead with God, he answered you. He loves you, and so I have come to tell you the answer."

All this, every step, every tear, every substance, is about Him, not us. Him. He loves us, and that simply has to be enough. Shout it. Pray it. He is awesome, well, he is beyond awesome. That in itself is awesome.

Are you ready?

2012-01-19T07:58:00.000-06:00

The Lord says, "When the Soverign Lord speaks, who can keep him from proclaiming his message?"

This morning I spent a little time (especially when the first version of this disappeared into the Internet galaxy never to be seen again), pondering the life of the prophets. Their lives weren't glamorous or especially joy-filled. Jesus said of them, "So you testify that you approve of what your ancestors did; they killed the prophets, and you build their tombs..

So...not joy-filled, but necessary. They spoke, a few (very few) listened. Things haven't changed.

Years ago we went to a Christian concert at a fairly large church in Kenner, a suburb of New Orleans. The concert had plenty of groups, but the headliner was Crystal Lewis. Lewis, who has virtually disappeared as I write this, had the No. 1 Christian radio single, "People Get Ready" in 1996.

Lewis, as at most concerts I guess, was the last act to perform. Avalon, among others, went on before her. The crowd was lively and loud by the time she went into the Chancel area of the church. She did a variety of songs, but the one I actually went to the concert to hear, "People Get Ready," was not one of them.

There was a pause in the music after Lewis had sung "God's been good to me," and "Beauty for Ashes" and "Beauty of the Cross" (all songs we knew and had sung along with her), and someone asked the individuals in the crowd if they wanted to know Christ or know Him more. I (and just about everyone around me) raised our hands and shouted gleefully. We were then asked to come forward if that was the case. I, being the greatly intelligent person I am, plowed forward thinking that we were being invited to come into the Chancel area and be close to Lewis as she sang, the equivalent of being on stage at a non-Christian concert.

We went forward, then we were shuffled to our left, and OUT THE MAIN BUILDING. As we walked, I knew I had made some sort of incorrect decision, and lo and behold, the big thumping base lead in to "People Get Read" began. We were led into other rooms where "counselors" began to ask us about our eternal choices. I missed the final song of the night; the song I had come to hear. The "counselors" were greatly amused when I told them I was a United Methodist pastor. Apparently I had made the decision to follow Christ previously, they agreed. I was released just as the massive crowd left the sanctuary. Apparently I wasn't one of the people who were ready. My dear wife, Mary, was greatly amused.

Sometimes the message isn't, as they say, easily understood, perhaps. But the message for some of the Prophets of the Old Testament was straight-forward. There was no masking it. There was no hiding from it. There was no parable teaching. It was a plain, straight-forward grouping of words. Powerful, yet without mystery.

Amos, this prophet-farmer who walked out of a little town in Judah toward what was then called the Northern Kingdom, shouted, whispered, talked, preached, a message that God had told him needed to be heard.

The message?

Judgment, like invading armies down through the years, was coming. Get yourself ready. You've been sinning; now you've been caught, seen, brought forward. Get yourself ready.

Amos wrote, "Does disaster strike a city unless the Lord sends it The Sovereign Lord never does anything without revealing his plan to his servants, the prophets. Be ready."

Crystal Lewis wrote, "There's a day that comes when we will be divided right and left, for those who know him and those that do not know. Those who know him well, will meet with him in the air,
Hallelujah, God is with us...Those who do not know they will hear "depart i knew you not" For my friends to see there will be a day when we are counted so know him well; So people, get ready. Jesus is coming. Soon we'll be going home."

Prophecy says, be ready. Intelligence says, be ready. Every fiber of our being should be saying, be ready.

Just don't find yourself ready but in the wrong place. There might not be any coming back from that.

Come and see

2012-01-18T08:42:00.000-06:00

A few years ago we bought a house in Lacombe, La. There was this strange little room, I guess you could call a closet, underneath the stairs to a loft. When one opened the door to that little, little closet, one could see where some of the previous owners of the house had measured their children's growth.

There were names, lines where the ruler had been placed on the heads of the children, and dates. I felt almost as if we were being intrusive, though we never knew this family. The growth lines were, I felt, something special for that family.

What are some of the ways you've measured your "spiritual" growth. Are there lines somewhere on a wall, a door, measuring when you took this step or that? Has there really been growth in your spiritual life? Do you realize that if there is no growth, the Bible says you're actually falling backward. In other words, there must be growth. There is no standing still.

There are many empowering questions to be found in the Gospels. I've always leaned toward that incredible moment when Jesus and Pilate are having a conversation (if one can call it a conversation when one is under arrest and knows that he or she will be beaten and then crucified within 24 hours) and Pilate asks that eternal question, "What is truth?"

But long before that, before Jesus' ministry has plowed the fields of Israel and left behind fruit of the Spirit, John the Baptist is standing near the narrow banks of the River Jordan with a couple of his followers, HIS disciples. As they stand there, perhaps looking at the long line of soon-to-be baptized, Jesus walks up. John says, "There is the Lamb of God." The two disciples (unnamed until a few verses later where they are revealed to be Andrew, Peter's brother, and Simon, son of John, or the more famous name Peter) began following Jesus. Jesus sees this, turns and asks the question: "What are you looking for?"

I'm going to a retreat in two or three weeks, prayerfully seeking a deeper understanding, a deeper relationship with the Creator. I'm trying. I'm looking
I'm reading the Gospel of John again each morning of the next few mornings, prayerfully seeking a deeper relationship with the Creator's Son. I'm struggling. I'm looking.
I'm reading a couple of new books, seeking to put a new line of spiritual growth on a door somewhere.

All of that is a prelude, a preparation for an attempt to answer the marvelously simple question: "What are you looking for?"

The second half of the first chapter of John's Gospel (which we'll be spending much time on in the next few weeks), is about the disciples -- or at least Andrew, Simon peter, Philip and Nathanael -- coming to Jesus.

That question Jesus asked, "What are you looking for?" seems to me to echo down the corridors of time. It's not just a question for a young Jewish man or men who had gone out to the wilderness to check out this new speaker/baptizer John. It's not just a question for two followers of this John. No, no, no. This question speaks to our own hearts, I believe.

What are YOU looking for?

Are you seeking a religious experience? There's none here with Jesus, I'm afraid.
Are you seeking to show your kids a better way to live? Jesus shows us a better way to die.
Are you seeking the truth or some watered-down version of it? Jesus doesn't talk about simple slogans or mantras. He says strange things like: "I am telling you the truth: you will see heaven open and God's angels going up and coming down on the Son of Man."

What are you looking for? A place to receive or a place to give? A place to be comforted or a place to leave and go comfort? A place to grieve or a place to give support to others?
What...are...you...looking...for?

I believe we're living in a time of seeking something better. We live in a country today in which the average person does not trust its own leaders. A record 84 percent of Americans say they disapprove of the way the Congress is doing its job compared with just 13 percent who approve of how things are going, according to a Washington Post/ABC News poll published on Monday. Virtually no one trusts our own leadership.

So...

What

are

you

looking

for?

The answer to that question might be the most important one of all to us.

John the Baptist, up to his knees in dark green water, said, "I saw the Spirit come down like a dove from heaven and stay on him (Jesus). I still did not know that he was the one, but God, who sent me to baptize with water, had said to me, 'You will see the Spirit come down and stay on a man; he is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' I have seen it, and I tell you that he is the Son of God."

If you're looking for anything more, anything different than this Jesus, you're lost as a man with a GPS and no understanding of the language the GPS is using. There are signs, signs, everywhere signs, but no one understands what they say.

What are you looking for? Healing. Direction. Power. New meaning? A filling of that dang hole in your life?

The sequence continues with the disciples answering his question. They say, "Where do you live, Rabbi?" Problem is, of course, that is not an answer to the question. But maybe it is. Maybe the answer to the question of what we're looking for is to be found, well, whereever Jesus is. So Jesus gives the most wonderful of answers to their posed question. He doesn't say Nazareth. Doesn't point toward the Sea of Galilee. Doesn't mention Jerusalem. No hint about the River Jordan coursing through Palestine like a stint through clogged arteries.

He says, "Come and see."

It's a start to an adventure. Whatever you are really looking for, Jesus says pack up all your cares and woes, here we go. Come and see.

This morning, that's our quest. Come and see. Maybe we'll not only find answers, but maybe we'll even learn to pose the right questions.

The biggest three-letter word

2012-01-17T07:46:00.000-06:00

Oh, the value of one little three-lettered word. In Greek, it is written: Pas. In Hebrew, it is written: Kol. In Spanish, todos. In French, tous. In Italian, tutti. In Russian, BCE.

In the Holy Scriptures, it is written, felt, believed, placed in all the right spots to make the biggest difference that can be found. All the best and brightest moments in scripture, I propose, come when all of Israel gathered to hear God's word read after walking back from foreign lands, when all of what would become Christendom gathered in an upper room, when all the saints went marching in.

In English, the word is ALL.

Let me point out what a difference that three-letter word can make in a sentence, in a scripture, in a lifetime of regret. All is the difference in Hebrew theology between the saved and the fallen. All is the difference in proper obedience to the Law and in fallen worshippers.

For example, in the Old Testament, Deuteronomy's 28th chapter and its beginning verse: If you obey the Lord your God and faithfully keep ALL his commands that I am giving you today, he will make you greater than any other nation on earth. Not the ones you like most. Not the ones you're most comfortable in doing. Not the best or the worst of the lot. All letter T's scrossed and I's dotted.

Then, in the Apostle Paul's letter to Rome's early Christians the theology of grace reads like this: The Savior will come from Zion and remove ALL wickedness from the descendants of Jacob ... and ...This righteousness is given through faith inJesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God ...

Gathered as wheat on a Thursday workday, bundled into being, mashed into meaning, the word ALL in scripture (I believe) is vital because 1) the Israelites were told that they must keep ALL of the law and 2) if they tried or if they didn't, the result was the same. They couldn't, didn't, wouldn't. That was significant.

Not some of them, but ALL of them. Not some of us, but ALL of us. I've got some friends that if they were Catholic might be in line for Sainthood. They're good folk, if you know what I mean. Good to their cores. Good stock. Good roux for the gumbo. Good teachers to their kids. Good and kind to strangers and as unconditionally loving to their friends as big-eyed pets would be. They've drunk a pitcher of living water; they've feasted on unlimited loves of the bread of life. They understand who Jesus is because they have a clear and valid relationship with him. They study scriptures, they pray mightily both publicly and in whatever their prayer closets might be. They feed the hungry, they read and absorb the latest spiritual books, and they have a noticeable, wonderful, enviable missional life. They are what I perceive Jesus might have looked like in terms of their actions. WWJD isn't a slogan to them; it's real as mustard seeds of faith as big as baseballs.

Oh, to a person they're also sinners, spiritual failures of a sort, because Paul tells us that ALL have fallen short. ALL. Everyone. Not a single, solitary, end of the world last person on earth kind of thing. ALL. They are all sinners. Oh, they clean up real nice, but they're sinners. Oh, they come across as well-meaning and terrifically splendid. Oh, I love them for who they are and what they accomplish for the poor, the oppressed, the least of these.

But they are run of the mill sinners. Pas of them. Kol of them. Mother Teresa and MLK and Calvin and Wesley and all the apostles and even my dear Paul. Sinners. All OF THEM.

For some that is stomach-clinching painful. Guilt eats them up like they were road kill to a hungry homeless man. They can't understand how that could be, so they try harder and harder and keep failing. Ultimately they simply deny their failure, their sin and they turn their focus on others and being to think, "Well, my sin isn't as great as they're sin." And homosexuality becomes a greater sin than egotism. Abortion becomes greater than lying. The next sin you don't have a problem with becomes greater than the one you do.

Therefore the fact that there is Good News for ALL is as surprising as it is wonderful. In Paul's letter, the second portion of the final sentence written above reads, ... and ALL are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.

Oh, heavenly day.

ALL are justified freely by his grace. Justified is a big ol' theological word that means SAVED. Extracted from the dump. Pulled out of the fire. Taken from the terror. And it doesn't just work for church folk on Sunday morning. In fact, those church folk on Sunday morning need a humongous handful of that saving hard-to-grasp graces just as much as the ones who were on the street corner late Saturday night if not more.

For God so loved the world. All of it. Kol. Pas. ALL.

Where we ALL failed, He was there to pick ALL of us up, lifting us past the measuring stick, raising us above the barrier every bit as tall as the wall that separates Palestine today from Israel, that separates sinner and saint like a Mason-Dixon line painted in Jesus' blood.

Here's the bottom line: God said the Hebrews must do ALL the law for salvation. They (and ALL of mankind) could not. Tried. Tried so very hard. Fingernails on the edge of the cliff effort. Tried with tears and with suffering. Tried by most, though not all. Tried, dear brethren, in the day and the night. Tried when the cost was friends and family oftentimes. Tried but still failed. ALL.

Humanity needed something else. A new way. A new song of Zion that had yet to be sung. A new light of the world. Luckily, God had already planned for All of the problem. John's Gospel said, "In he beginning, the Word already existed. ... Through him God made ALL things; not one thing in ALL creation was made without him. What mankind needed was a baby born in a tiny wayside village in the hills of a tiny wayside area called Palestine. That something else humanity needed was, is and forever will be Jesus the Christ.

ALL I can say is thank you, Lord Jesus. In the 107th Psalm I read, "They must thank him with sacrifices and with songs of joy must tell ALL that he has done.

Get up and dance ALL of you; Plow a joyful field; wet some eyes with happiness.

"God saw ALL that he had made, and it was very good."

Be a truck

2012-01-16T08:46:00.001-06:00

My son and I spent some quality time yesterday talking about what success is. To him, a singer-songwriter who has self-produced three albums and is on the road playing in places fairly late at night about five or six times a week, success is being paid to do what you enjoy doing. Size of the crowd isn't the issue. The process is. I honor that. I would struggle to be that.

I told him that I had a friend who had written a book and had it self-published and she was filling Facebook with stuff about it and was as proud as one could be. I, on the other hand, had self-published a book earlier this year and all and all was a bit ashamed that I had to do all that because all I felt was no one wanted to publish it so it couldn't have been very good.

It wasn't enough to enjoy the process, you see. It was about the outcome for me. The outcome was I spent folks money and sold very few books, and I wonder whether I made any difference at all. No, I know I didn't.

I wish I could clear the head and see success in the same way my son does, which is to see it on its merits. I, too often mind you, see success in the numbers that my church, the United Methodist Church, seems to have tilted so heavily toward: how is your church doing in confessions of faith, new members, youth numbers, children numbers? Mine, sadly, isn't doing so hot on those numbers. Therefore, before they do, there have been times I've declared my ministry to be a failure.

My son argued about that, saying this shouldn't be about me. What are you trying to accomplish, he asked? "Is it about bringing people to Jesus, or is it about you?" I argued back that I can see it no other way because leaders take people sometime even where they don't want to go. I, on the other hand, have not taken these two churches as far as they need to go. Therefore if my little bit of ministry is as stale and stagnant as it can be and no one new is coming to Christ, then it has to be about me. It is me.

Then my son argued that some of what I was feeling was ego. I, coughed, hesitated and finally agreed. It is. It hurts to have chosen to go full-time into the ministry and not be able to lead the churches into full-time ministry at the same time. I don't know how.

So, I return to the source:

In 1 Samuel, I read this idea of success: ¹³ So (Saul) sent David away from him and gave him command over a thousand men, and David led the troops in their campaigns. ¹⁴ In everything he did he had great success, because the LORD was with him.

In 1 Chronicles, that idea is increased: May the LORD give you discretion and understanding when he puts you in command over Israel, so that you may keep the law of the LORD your God. ¹³ Then you will have success if you are careful to observe the decrees and laws that the LORD gave Moses for Israel.

In the Psalms the writer screamed to the heavens, LORD, save us! LORD, grant us success!

Clearly, the success comes from God. But I would also imagine that whatever the success was, it was in the eye of the beholder. Again, success for some might not be what some others would call success.

It is interesting to me that the Old Testament has many uses of the word success, or the Hebrew word for success. There is no usage of the word in the New Testament. Perhaps giving one's life for a world that disowns you might not be most folks idea of success.

What can we take from this? What is success to you, the reader? Is it in the job you have? Is it in how well you do that job? Is it family life? How well the kids turn out? Is it how you feel about the life God has given you, or do you sit and look out your morning window, a cup of hot coffee in your hand wondering is there was more you could do, more you should have done, another life you could have, can now live?

I don't know the answer for most. I spent much of yesterday evening watching my hero, Rich Mullins, talk about the type of Christianity he espoused. Rich died 15 years ago this year, so I only knew of him while he was alive about two years since this will be my 17th year back in the church this coming August. But what I heard him say was Christianity was just being yourself. Being who God loves, not wanting to become someone God could love.

I had forgotten that. Or maybe I wanted to.

Success should be this, I imagine: God gives us a few wonderful gifts. What we do with them is what we do with them.

Using an altered Rich analogy through the prism of this discussion, If Henry Ford created you a truck, he didn't do it so that you could go add all sorts of features and get yourself ready to be bought by someone. He created you to go be a truck.

So be a truck. Some trucks are great in huge crowds at monster truck rallies. Some trucks just tug on through 200,000 miles with a taillight hanging on but still going strong for those who love them. Some trucks are shining and have great sound systems. Some trucks have a bunch of Red Bulls on the floor board, a stickshift on the floor and their best days were never all that good.

But they're all trucks. Not all of them are monsters. But at their base, they crank, they run, they shut down. Same process. Same result.

Go be a truck, I'm hearing. Go be a truck.

Found by grace

2012-01-13T07:00:00.000-06:00

A woman whom I love to hear sing said to me last night as we discussed Sunday's sermon topic, "I've always had a trouble with grace."

I said, "who hasn't?" It's terribly difficult to understand that no matter how much we do, we cant' be good enough."

Friends, I know people who have given everything to the Lord, but are unhappy because they can't get there, still. There being the state of grace they desire. They're trying, trying, trying, and it just doesn't work.

What we need is a bit of love. Just a bit, to bring us over the edge, lift us over the high mark, bring us across the waters of chilly Jordan. That's bit is grace.

Paul wrote to some friends who were having difficulty understanding grace, "In the past you did not know God, and so you were slaves of beings who are not gods. But now that you know God -- or should I say, now that God knows you -- how is it that you want to turn back to those weak and pitiful ruling spirits." In another place, he writes, "Whoever does not always obey everything that is written in the book of the Law is under God's curse!"

In words we can grasp, why would you want to turn back to the law, turn back to effort, turn back to works, turn back to guilt, turn back to the pain of failure.

The joy of grace is found above all else in John Newton's masterpiece, of course. "amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, and now am found, was blind but now I see."

Live like that, friends, and you will find peace and redemption. Live to the law, whatever law you're living to, and you will fail and fall into guilt.

Simple, Elizabeth. Simple this thing called grace.

Grow closer

2012-01-12T08:29:00.000-06:00

Today a group of people from my church (statewide) landed in Israel and I'm so, so envious. Our trip to Israel two years ago was the finest time of my life, with the exception of the conclusion and the phone call we got about our little Frankie.

It inspired, it informed, it led to desire to do it again that leaves me so envious.

Despite yesterday's poor numbers of readers, I venture out again, and this time I opend my Bible three times before noticing that each of the times I opened it (no kidding) the subject was the same: the restoration and love of God for his people).

I read to you from Hosea (after trying Isaiah and Ezekiel I believe it was): "The people of Israel will become like the sand of the sea, more than can be counted or measured. Now God says to them, "You are not my people," but the day is coming when he will say to them, "You are the children of the living God. The people of Judah and the people of Israel will be reunited...."

Today is but the second week of a new year. There is so much ahead of each of us, faithful readers and maybe a few new ones.

But the quest to become closer to God should be our every aim, our most important aim, our most needed aim. What have you done to schedule, plan, a coming together of God, his people, his adopted people, you, me, you name it? What have you done to think about, pray about, read about, contemplate about, meditate about God in this coming year?

The Bible teaches that if we're doing nothing more, if we're not growing spiritually, if we're just going on going on, we're going backwards.

Don't get caught up in the everyday mess. Live in this moment. Live in this day. But plan tomorrow with God's sure help.

God loves us and wants to be closer. What do we want?

Man, I wish I was in Tiberius this morning.

Giving comfort for the troubled

2012-01-11T08:43:00.000-06:00

I'm looking at things God can't do this week as part of a series and this week I'm referencing how God wants the best for you. That seems one of those no-brainers, but it's certainly not for some people.

You lose a child to cancer and there's a chance you might question that logic.
You have an automobile accident and lose a limb, there's a chance you might wonder what God's up to.

Only the strong in faith can survive the greatest of tests. But that's, frankly, what faith is for. Faith, that belief not in what we see, touch, know to be true but what we can't see, feel, believe to be true, is often what carries us through those moments.

It is clear to me that the Lord has carried me through difficult times, through unexpected deaths, through grief and difficulty physically. How? The circumstances remained the same. But my attitude changed because of my faith and those around me encouraging me. Faith doesn't end (necessarily) the problem, end the suffering, end the pain but it does walk us through it.

Jesus told us, "Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy."

Paul wrote: "But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you."

Today things might look terrible for you. It might be the bills you've built up in a recession. It might be the loss of a job because of the recession. It might be a terrible illness or a loved one's illness or whatever those difficult circumstances might be.

Whatever the case, the Bible is clear that these troubles we're having are given to us, allowed to come to us, for a reason, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."

Believe that. Have faith in that. Give comfort as you have received comfort today.

Tebow 3:16

2012-01-10T08:40:00.000-06:00

OOOOOHHHHHHUUUUUU

Did you notice this: Tim Tebow, the Denver Broncos quarterback thought unable to pass the football, had 316 yards passing and averaged 31.6 yards per pass in the game on Sunday night. Tebow wore :john 3:16 on his eye black in the 2009 BCS Championship college football game and has since become identified with the famous Bible message. The coincidental stats caused millions of fans to perform Google searches on the Bible passage in the past 24 hours. Here's one more unbelievable stat: John Ourand of Sports Business Journal reports that the final quarter-hour television rating for the Broncos-Steelers game was, you guessed it, 31.6.

Some have questioned me about what I think about Tebow. I've written about him a couple times in these blogs. I've even become tired of him because no one is talking about the New Orleans Saints on ESPN because it's all Tebow all the time.

But this is what he can mean to the Christian community. This is the kind of discussion that is brought forth because of his belief system.

I saw one site that even quoted what John 3:16 says.

I can't see harm coming from that. I see only education. If Tebow can remain humble and can have success, a tall order for most humans, then perhaps he can continue to be that shining light we all look for. If he can continue to talk about his beliefs in ways that make people do Google searches for John 3:16, well, more than no harm will be the result. God will bless that. I really believe that.

As long as the Broncos don't play the Saints in the Super Bowl, I'm with him all the way.

The praise chain

2012-01-09T08:13:00.000-06:00

This is the Message's look at the 100th Psalm:
^-2 On your feet now—applaud God! Bring a gift of laughter,
sing yourselves into his presence.
³ Know this: God is God, and God, God.
He made us; we didn't make him.
We're his people, his well-tended sheep.
⁴ Enter with the password: "Thank you!"
Make yourselves at home, talking praise.
Thank him. Worship him.
⁵ For God is sheer beauty,
all-generous in love,
loyal always and ever.

I especially love the fifth verse.... For God is sher beauty, all-generous in love, loyal always and ever.

I was driving to the first church yesterday morning at 7:15, on a cloudy, foggy Sunday, when it occurred to me that I do way to little praising. I have so much when so many have so little, and yet I fail to praise him not nearly enough.

So I thought I would.

I praise Him for the clouds, the blue skies that lurk behind those clouds and for the rain that might be on the forefront of those deep grays.

I praise Him for my children and theirs, for the laughter and the tears and the heartbreak and the joy.

I praise Him for my wife, the years spent together, for fighting through bills and coming out the other side.

I praise Him for crippling times, for sicknesses that taught and addictions that built up and for moments of terror followed by hours and days of trust.

I praise Him for my best, and in my worst. I praise Him for the happiness that only He could make and the peace that only He could extend. I praise Him for who He is and for whose I am.

I praise Him this Monday morning for my limited understanding of who He is for to have a God that I could explain fully does not interest me. I praise Him for friends and for those enemies by whom I can test my faith and test my understanding of Jesus' words.

I praise Him.

Now, I await your praises. Give me one a person, please. Let's establish a praise chain, if you will. Just comment on the post.

The power of One

2012-01-06T08:16:00.000-06:00

At a Kairos Prison Ministry council meeting last night, I came to the conclusion (as I have pondered for a while) that serving, volunteering, discipleship is becoming more difficult to see in action because more and more people are not serving, volunteering, disciplining. Just yesterday I wrote about the lack of persons studying the scriptures. Today I'm writing about those persons who don't volunteer to help the prisoners.

This could turn into a depressing trend, but I'm not going to let it, because one person was kind enough to point out that whatever happens to our next event (scheduled for March with but five volunteers currently scheduled including no (NO) clergy, God will make use of it and things will be fine.

I'm reminded of Paul's letter to the church in Corinth: "¹ And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. ² In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. ³ For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, ⁴ they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord’s people. ⁵ And they exceeded our expectations: They gave themselves first of all to the Lord, and then by the will of God also to us."

On Christmas Eve, for reasons I can't be sure of, I had one of the churches take up an offering. I had never done that before. Then I got a call about a family whose home had burned to the ground, a military family with children. I thought about what we could do, asked the church leaders if we could do it and we gave close to $800 to that family.

The point of all this is that we must do what we can. We can't look at numbers and decide upon success or failure because the only number that matters is the number 1. One God in three persons. One. It's not a lonely number when talking about Jehovah. It's a number of power and strength.

I'm beginning a sermon series about what God can't do this Sunday, but the fact is that within God's will, he can do everything except violate his own standards, his own nature, his own plans. He wants the best for all of us and I believe he will make that happen, according to Paul's letter to the church in Rome.

We simply must wait, give the best effort we can and watch for the amazing (in whatever form they come) results.

Maybe a small Kairos event is what He wants. Maybe one person working hard is what He wants. Maybe, just maybe, He wants someone to become desperate enough to come to his Son by not having an event in March but instead waiting until the Fall. Maybe. Just maybe.

The power of One is enough to accomplish that.

The Jesus of scriptures

2012-01-05T08:39:00.000-06:00

We've just finished a Bible Study at one of our churches and a few things strike me:

1) I am still, after 14 years, stunned by how few persons want to have Bible Study or small group study together from churches. After all these years, I still get something new and different from each study we do.
2) I am still, after 14 years, convinced that most folks do not know the Bible enough to have a meaningful conversation about it because of answer one.

We took a look into the Journey, an Adam Hamilton book about the birth of our Savior, and among the many things that he says as fact (that are more legend than otherwise one might have claimed), is truths about the shepherds and the wise men and Joseph's family and so forth. But it is wise and meaningful to read this and have discussions about it because if we're going to have a relationship with someone we need to strive to know everything we can about him or her. It's no different with Jesus.

I was struck with this thought while pondering the above ones. In Acts, Saul is taking a trip to Damascus when a light form heaven encircles him. He hears a voice saying, "Saul, Saul, why are you harassing me?"

Saul answers in the only way one could, I suspect. "Who are you, Lord?"

The "light" answers, "I am Jesus, whom you are harassing."

I wonder sometimes if even "good Christians" would ask the same question if Jesus walked into the room. Would we be blinded into seeing who we think we should see or would we recognize him as he truly is? Would we have spent enough time with him in the scriptures to even begin to know what he is all about? Would we have a sense of who he truly is?

I hope the answers are good ones. I wonder sometimes.

A grown child's love

2012-01-04T09:08:00.000-06:00

Last night I received the best post-Christmas gift I've ever gotten. My daughter, already on the short-list of my favorite people in the world because, well, she's my daughter AND she's giving me a ticket to the Saints playoff game Sunday, called to say she was worried about me. She doesn't want me to park where we always park when Mary and I go because I would be walking in a "bad" area, because I'm sick (which I'm not, and because it will be cold (which forecasts say is not true). She suggests taking a cab from my other daughter's house on the West Bank of New Orleans.

For my readers who don't know what any of that means, it means my daughter cares about me. This doesn't come as a shock, but it comes as confirmation.

Ironically, there isn't much of this language in the Bible, much of his daughter or son caring for their fathers or mothers. Even Jesus at times signals having a greater need than spending time with parents or siblings.

But I thought of this scene from scripture. Jesus is near death (which I'm not), hanging from the cross (which I'm definitely not) and his mother has somehow been allowed to come near the cross. The son says to the mother, ²⁵ Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. ²⁶ When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman,^[b] here is your son,” ²⁷ and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home."

It was ample evidence that the child was most concerned with the parent. He had done all he came to do, and he understood how much his mother had suffered because of it. So he asked a dear friend to take care of his mother.

There comes a moment in every parent's life when they understand they're children are grown and have turned into caring, wonderful persons. Perhaps mine has come this past year in two hospital visits when I saw my "children" so lovingly worried about me. I do not want to be hospitalized or sick or perhaps beaten in a dark corner of Earhart Drive in New Orleans to have that love shown, but it is wonderfully comforting to see that love in action.

You, or I guess I should say I, always wonder how well you've done with raising your children. You wonder did your quirks, your problems, your mistakes erase the natural bond between parent and child. Seldom does that happen, but still you (or I guess I should say I) wonder. It is great to see that it hasn't. I love Shanna, Carrie and Jason deeply. I pray they love me back. I pray that I would be as Jesus and ask they would take care of our dear matriarch, my wife Mary, but I already know that to be true.

Maybe Shanna would even given Mary a ticket to some future game if I'm gone (but not beforehand).

Small blessings

2012-01-03T08:13:00.001-06:00

I wonder how observant we really are.

I watch commercials, for example, about drugs' possible side effects. It's amusingly worrisome that the list of side effects are sometimes as long as the commercial itself. Makes you wonder how we live through it all, and it makes you wonder if the world is paying any attention.

I read this this morning on a tube of toothpaste: If more than used for brushing is accidently swallowed, get medical, help or contact a Poison Control Center right away. then do not swallow. To minimize swallowing use a pea-sized amount in children under 6. Yikes. I've done my share of swallowing over he years. I never knew it was a danger. Never.

I read this morning on the Internet: Pepsi Co., facing a lawsuit from a man who claims to have found a mouse in his Mountain Dew can, has an especially creative, if disgusting, defense. An Illinois man sued Pepsi in 2009 after he claimed he "spat out the soda to reveal a dead mouse," He claims he sent the mouse to Pepsi, which then "destroyed" the remains after he allowed them to test it, according to his complaint. Pepsi's lawyers found experts to testify, based on the state of the remains sent to them that, "the mouse would have dissolved in the soda had it been in the can from the time of its bottling until the day the plaintiff drank it," according to the Record. This seems like a winning-the-battle-while-surrendering-the-war kind of strategy that hinges on winning the argument that "our product is essentially a can of battery acid that will destroy pests of all kinds. Please feel free to use it on bugs and snakes and other assorted problems around the house."

Finally, I read this morning on a container of shaving cream: DIRECTIONS: Apply warm water to skin. Gentily rub over skin to lather and shave. Rinse off with cool water for the most comfortable shave. Shave immediately after showering or washing your face. Darn. I've been doing it wrong all these years. Who knew yhou were supposed to a) rinse off with cool water and b) shave immediately after showing or washing your face? I shave first. Does that mean I have to go back and start over in my late teens? And why is there no warning about swallowing? Oh, wait, there is a warning. It says Do not store at temperature above 120 degrees. No wonder those prospectors in southern Nevada wore those long beards.

The point of this, I believe I have one, is noticing what is around us is an imperative. Stop for a second if you live in the country and watch squirrels play. If you're in a city, stop for a moment and watch birds fly around wires. The key to both those sentences is STOP. Slow down. Take a second. Let the breeze take you away.

In words that I use as a benediction many times a year, the Bible says in the book of Numbers

²⁵ the LORD make his face shine on you
and be gracious to you;
²⁶ the LORD turn his face toward you
and give you peace.”’

And give you peace. Now, the peace that God gives you might not save you from Mountain Dew or toothpaste swallowing, but it does surpass all understanding. It calms you. It restores you. It slows you. It allows you to rest from anxiety that stacks like sand in a pile.

Look around you not so that you can worry about the pea sized dab of toothpaste but so that you can notice what God has for you that you've never paid any attention to.

Starting now, look around at the beauty of Creation, and you will be made to feel peace. And so will the mice in the world.

Profound worship in 2012

2011-12-30T09:45:00.000-06:00

Today is my last post for the year 2011. There have been 249 previous ones. In 2010 there were 255 posts. I'm not sure if that means my thoughts are getting fewer or (as I'd like to think) they're becoming more profound.

Speaking of being profound, Sunday's sermon is about what made the Magi wise. Have you ever given that profound thought a second of your day?

Here's what we know:

These men (well, we suppose they were men) showed up sometime after the baby Jesus was born (not the night of despite what our nativity scenes show) and brought with them three types of gifts. From the fact there was three types of gifts, we deduce there was three men. There is no evidence of that. Over time, we have decided they were from Persia and we've decided they were named Melchior, Baltazar and Gaspar. That's what we know or think we know.

How profound is that?

Are you as amazed as I that these three (perhaps) men (maybe) were given the message of the infant being born, the infant who would provide eternal life as King of the Jews, as the Messiah, when the message was missed entirely by all those Rabbis, teachers of the law, Pharisees and Sadducees?

Actually, when you think about the way God works (message to a teen-age unwed woman, message to a man in a dream, message to a bunch of shepherds), affecting the lowly and the humble, caring for the poor and those without, it makes more than perfect (if there is such a thing) sense.

God gave those men (maybe) the message that would affect us all. Why? Good question. Did the fact these men were given this message change anything about the world they lived in? No. They apparently told no one what they had seen. They simply worshipped. They brought gifts and they worshipped. They built no large cathedrals. They did nothing but deliver as if they were UPS and worshipped. They received no healing, no reproduction of lost limbs, no trip back from the dead, no teaching, nothing but a message that a baby was GOING to be born. They put on their sandals and packed up their camels and they went ... so they could worship. They took up to two years of travel, marching though they had every reason to quit, travelling though the return on the investment seemed minuscule at best, following a star that seemed to have little to do with GPS help, coming to a house that seemed little to do with a massive, glowing, gold-filled church or synagogue.

And they worshipped.

As we close out 2011, with its numerous terrible weather acts of tsunamis and tornadoes and earthquakes and deaths uncountable, we should all remember the WISE men for one thing: They were smart enough to worship. Nothing else. They were rich enough to afford camels, rich enough to get a face-to-face meeting with King Herod, rich enough to take up to two years out of their lives and it not hurt them financially. Yet when they found the child who would be called Christ, what they did was worship.

Let's start 2012 with that notion. Let's worship this child. Let's not look for blessings or good acts of kindness or excellent teaching that will turn our lives once and for all.

Let's simply worship. Spend a moment (or many) in prayer, in praise, in glorifying, in magnifying the name of Jehovah, of Jesus, of the Holy Spirit. Let's stop a headlong plunge into precariousness and let's worship...honor...love...show PROFOUND devotion.

Maybe I am getting more profound and didn't even know it.

God's message continues to work

2011-12-29T09:02:00.000-06:00

Paul wrote to some friends in a church located in Thessalonica:"We also thank God constantly for this: when you accepted God's worst that you heard from us, you welcomed it for what it truly is. Instead of accepting it as a human message, you accepted it as God's message, and it continues to work in you who are believers."

Wow. That's a wonderful thought, isn't it? The Gospel is not a human message, but instead, it is God's message.

Wow.

Good News. Trust. Faith. Gifts all. Have you experienced even a touch of these things? This morning as I write these simple thoughts while sipping on a cooling cup of coffee, I'm reminded that the year is closing quickly but the eternal life I'm awaiting is hanging over the horizon. What a grand thought.

Jesus, God's message for me, to me, is waiting.

My grand children are sitting in two separate rooms this morning as dew covers the chilly ground. They're like cars sitting in pit row, all filled with gas, ready to take the green flag and explode from the starter's position for another sunny day. They're ready to do their kid's thing, again. Their room is straightened, the colors and crayons and markers are somewhat put away. The kids are put away, as well. They're waiting for that moment when I say, "get dressed kids, we're going outside."

God's message for us this morning is a simple one. Good News...God sent His Son to die for us. Trust ...I am relying on this being true. Faith ... I believe Jesus died for us so that we could have eternal life. That somehow, wonderfully, magically, majestically, beautifully, the blood of this sacred lamb made this possible for me, my wife, my children, my cousin, my grand children, my friends and even my enemies.

This message is not one that comes from human intellect, from human imagination, from human design. It comes from God, and I believe it could only come from God.

It came from God, the Father, and it continues to work on me, through me and with me. This is the wonderful news on Dec. 30. Paul wrote, "What is our hope, joy or crown that we can brag about in front of our Lord Jesus when he comes? Isn't it all of you? You are our crown and joy!"

Enough said.

Changing times, unchanging Jesus

2011-12-28T09:28:00.000-06:00

As I read on my Nook app on my Ipad after hooking up my Iphone 4 for the night, I noticed how things were changing just a bit in the world. This morning I noticed the nail in the change coffin: A prediction of businesses that would go away in the year 2012 include (tada) Sears. Sears as in Sears and Roebuck. Sears as in the store that had everything that was anything in my young life.

I remember two stores when I was growing up in Meridian, Miss.: Sears and Kress. Kress on the corner and Sears on two different locations including the new one out by the interstate. Sears grew so big that it moved to a new location (which was a big dang deal -- or words to that effect) when I was but a kid. Sears was the only store I remember in Jackson as well. Sears, where all the new and best stuff was located. Sears, which had its own catalogue, was the be all and end all to everything. Sears, who ditched Roebuck somewhere along the long way from rural America to cities. Sears. Going under. Killed by Amazon and Wal-Mart and Target and others who for some reason connected to young America despite having nothing different to sell than did Sears. Sears. Gone.

Truthfully I haven't been into Sears, which has only one store that I'm aware of in the parish in which I now live, for years. Until Monday I hadn't been into JC Penney's for about as long, and I understand that JC Penney is on life-support as well.

Things are achanging, friends, as the Gap in who has money and who doesn't gets bigger and the store the Gap gets smaller.

Blockbuster -- going, going ... K-Mart -- on a ventilator. Kellogg's Corn Pops -- not even milk can save them. A&W -- you won't be able to root around for a cold one with ice cream much longer. All companies that sale stand-alone GPS products (apart from GPSes found in smart phones) -- couldn't find them with a Mapquest. Old Navy is sinking, Chrysler and Plymouth are driving into oblivion, just ahead of Saturns. You can't find a Croc to wear to save your life, MySpace.com isn't so social any longer and Borders hasn't been crossed in a while.

In a Bible Study last night we discussed what Jesus had to say about wealth, or perhaps more importantly, about possessions. Possessions can be a terrible attraction and they can be a terrible distraction spiritually.

In Luke's Gospel, the 12th chapter, we read: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. ³³ Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. ³⁴ For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

A treasure in heaven that will never fail...No Sears, Roebuck, or Gap. Just purses that will not wear out because they are more important than earthly possessions by far.

What does this mean? How about giving to those who don't have? How about giving to those who are hurting, hungry, in prison, blinded by sin and made deaf by evil? Jesus came to do all those things, and he did it without having, well, even a pillow for his head at night or a roof over his head. No, his possessions, his Kingdom if you will, wasn't earthly as he told Pilate. No, his Kingdom was in heaven where nothing techno, no Blockbuster ever shows itself.

Just a new Jerusalem coming down.

Friends, times may change, things we've grown so used to might disappear, the norm might be going away. But in the end, there is Jesus who does not change yesterday, today or ever more. That's someone, and some kingdom, that can always be counted on.

Put that in your government-aided bank and store it up.

Sounds of children

2011-12-27T09:10:00.000-06:00

My blood runs deep through little veins:

My grand son, Gavin, marched into the kitchen of our parsonage home after having brushed his teeth and with a smile as big as the wet parsonage back yard said, "Ah, morningtime."

My grand daughter, Emma, spent the day after Christmas in the emergency room with an IV in her dainty arm. She was dehydrated and lethargic. Fluids have got her going again.

My wacky way of looking at the world meets my hospital home away from home.

Children or in this case grand children are the sounds that keep old hearts churning. I remember my father, Glen, who was not the grandest of fathers by my own understanding but who fell deeply in love with a grand daughter named Carrie and changed before all our eyes for the much better. He was a better man because she was a, well, a child and children are the sounds that keep old hearts churning.

The Bible: Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children. AND Children are a heritage from the LORD, offspring a reward from him.

Oops, gotta run. Gabe, the 8-year-old grand son just took Gavin's coloring book and Gavin is crying like someone just removed a leg. The sounds the keep old hearts churning are rather loud at the moment....

The day AFTER Christmas

2011-12-26T09:14:00.000-06:00

Ah, the day after Christmas and all through the yard rain drops fell with the weight of little boys and girls all over our area.

What a wonderful day we had yesterday. Let me count the ways:

We had two wonderful church services. Seriously, the services were great. It truly felt as if families were gathered in the churches. I didn't worry about numbers or the fact I gave our choir director off at one of the services because she has young twins. I didn't worry about who was there and who chose not to come. I merely worshipped and preached as hard and as compassionate and as funny and as loving as I possibly could. I loved and I believe was loved. Church on Christmas is wonderful; it really is.

We had five of the seven grandchildren in our (parsonage) home for the first time. I talked to the other two. It was as close, I guess, as we will come to having everyone in one place at one time. Loud. Too small a house. Loud. And funny. Mary's food was wonderful. Just a great, great day.

Watching son-in-law Blaine fly his helicopter into a tree where it stuck, then all of us trying to throw things at it to knock it down probably was the highlight of the day.

Watching Rocky Organ, a four-year-old comic, act as an injured sheep at Saturday night's children's Christmas play, was the highlight of the weekend.

I guess what I'm trying to write for all to read is the fact that peace and good will to all persons begins in families, branches into the churches, leaks out into strangers homes and we wind up with a dreary, cloud-covered, wet day that is still warm and cuddly for all. Love is about a child, a child we've never held nor ever will but a child all the same. That child, this Jesus, makes life wonderful for all of us, no matter our circumstances, if we but all it.

Today, the day after Christmas, I could write about soldiers being shot at homecoming parties or seven killed in Fort Worth shooting or any number of terrible, sad, awful events that happened on Christmas Day around the globe. Heck, I could even write about our microwave which with a cloud of deep smoke and one last deep breath stopped working while the bacon was beginning to cook today.

Instead, though, I'll think about Gavin eating bacon that I managed to cook properly for him (not hard, but soft he says) and I'll think about those great moments with Emma and I'll think about talking to Parker on the phone and even listening to Livy as she tried to talk to me and I'll think about Karli and Mia opening presents and I'll even think about Gabe playing UNO with Mawmaw while I played Dinosaur with Gavin (I got to be the one who chews, Gavin said). I'll think about the good that came because Jesus came and I'll let the bad just sit there and wash away with the winter rain.

It's the day after Christmas and all through the house all sorts of creatures were stirring with the exception of mice who would be insane to trying to move in our house what with all the cats and dogs and kids.

That shoe was dumb

2011-12-24T08:29:00.000-06:00

This happened yesterday (really; I mean it; it really, really did): Scuffles broke out and police were brought in to quell unrest that nearly turned into riots across the nation Friday following the release of Nike’s new Air Jordan basketball shoes—a retro model of one of the most popular Air Jordans ever made.
The mayhem stretched from Washington state to Georgia and was reminiscent of the violence that broke out 20 years ago in many cities as the shoes became popular targets for thieves. It also had a decidedly Black Friday feel as huge crowds of shoppers overwhelmed stores for a must-have item.
In suburban Seattle, police used pepper spray on about 20 customers who started fighting at the Westfield Southcenter mall. The crowd started gathering at four stores in the mall around midnight and had grown to more than 1,000 people by 4 a.m., when the stores opened, Tukwila Officer Mike Murphy said. He said it started as fighting and pushing among people in line and escalated over the next hour.

Today is, of course, Christmas Eve. We have services at each of our churches and I can't wait to get to them. To see the faces of those who have become friends. To see the faces of the kids as they perform a short play as part of one of the services. To see candles held as Silent Night is sung. To feel the cool, crisp night air as we prepare to receive grand kids to our parsonage home tomorrow for Christmas dinner.

Every time I think the world starts to get it, as the 99 percent protest the notion that the world's wealth shouldn't be held by a mere one percent of the world's population or perhaps more importantly the world's wealth should be willingly given to the poor by the one percent who have been fortunate to accumulate that wealth, this happens. We show we, the one percent, are just as selfish and unwise as anyone could be.

It's a shoe. It's a tablet. It's a Cabbage Patch kid. It's the next techno babble game-playing thingamajig. We risk danger, jail, pepper spray just to say we have that shoe or that tablet or you name it. Black Fridays all.

Today, this wonderful holiday felt around the world I pray, let us prepare to honor and worship our Savior born into flesh so long ago.

Let his blood, also shed so very long ago, wash the selfishness out of our children, our adults, our spouses, our parents. Let us care for those who are less fortunate than ourselves who could have made an entire Christmas out of $180 shoes.

Let us get it, soon.

Merry Christmas, friends, family. I love you with a passion that only Christ could give me.

A mother's sweet love

2011-12-23T08:13:00.000-06:00

Luke's gospel says, "As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. "Let's get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us." They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed. Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told!"
There is the birth of the child. But there are two key lines this morning. First, "They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child." Second is "Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself."

What does that mean, you think?

First, the shepherds made the story known. So why isn't that tale in all four gospels? Why wasn't that tale told throughout Palestine the next day? Angels singing in the sky would get my attention. Well, I believe the tale was told. I believe the shepherds were the talkingest bunch of sheep wranglers you ever saw. But there was one big ol' problem. The obvious answer is the people simply didn't believe the shepherds. There were ignorant people who didn't get the message. Imagine that. People are told the greatest news of all time and they choose to ignore it. No one would do that today would they? Uh, huh.

Second, only Mary knew what she knew, if you know what I mean. Gabriel told her, remember, "He will be great, be called 'Son of the Highest.' The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David; He will rule Jacob's house forever— no end, ever, to his kingdom." So that was in her mind, I'm sure, when shepherds show up to bow down before this little king. Do you think this was early fear for her baby? It might not have been such good news to some, including the blood-thirsty Herod, that the Son of the Highest had been born. The whole Messiah thing apparently wasn't such good news for those in the business of religion.

So here we have the shepherds telling everyone who would listen, not believe but listen. Love the line, "The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen." And we have Mary keeping it all inside, trying to keep a cork on the bottle, trying to keep things a secret, trying to keep her child her child, trying to keep a rein on the runaway horse.

I'm going to make a leap here, so stay with me.

My mother, Delores Turner, died five years ago today. Five years. Seems like yesterday, really. Seems like just a few long minutes ago, really.

Now, I'm adopted and was not flesh of her flesh, but in all ways important, she was my mother just as I'm sure Joseph felt about his son. A greater love hath no woman for child. But she, like Mary, tried to keep a rein on me all her life. The creative beast that lies inside me always wanted to pour out, and it showed itself in increasingly insane and inane ways. But my mother did what Mary did all those years...she prayed for her child. Mary's specialty was praying that her child, flesh of her flesh, love of her life, would one day do what God had called him to do, prayed that he would be great when called to be great. But I'm not at all sure she did it completely willingly. She merely prayed that God's will be done in her child's life.

My mother had an eighth-grade education, wasn't sure about a lot of things in her life that I was absolutely sure about, but she was loved by many. She prayed over many years that God's will would be done in her child's life. My mother was no Mary, but she was a mother equal in tenacity with Mary. But she could never have kept things inside the way Mary did, for she spent way too much of her time being like the shepherds and telling all about her baby.

The point?

A mother's love is unique in this world. True love wasn't known in this world till Jesus came. Therefore, the love between Mary and Jesus could not be equalled.

But I must tell you that for good or bad, my mother's love must have been close. When I was born, no shepherds showed up, no wise men came riding in, and there were no celebrations in the sky. But when I was adopted three months later, a mother's love was born in a heart and it wasn't extinguished until she passed about 1 a.m. on Dec. 23, 2006.

When the baby born in Bethlehem bled from the cross, it is instructive that no one from the Nazareth Day Care was there. There was no one from the Nazareth Elementary or the Nazareth Middle School or even those close friends of Jesus' from Nazareth High School there. No friend. No enemies even. No, not one as they sing.

But there was Mary. Mother Mary. All of Rome, all of its soldiers and its might, all of Herod's brood, all the Sadducee's and those remarkably religious Pharisees could not have stopped her from being there.

Christ's love is amazing. The closest we can come, I suspect, is a mother's love for a child -- a good child, a bad child, a child who returns that love or one who is cold as December's heel.

We call that love, unconditional. It is how God chooses to love you, me, us, all of us even those who choose to never return that love to Him.

We could call it a mother's love and be done with it. The strength of the link isn't weakened by death. Perhaps, just perhaps, it is strengthened. I miss my mother in death much more than I ever missed her in life, sad to say.

I wish she could see my churches. I wish she could see her grand children growing up. I wish she could have met her son-in-law, Blaine. I wish she could see Blaine and Carrie's daughters, Mia, Karli and especially little Emma who spectacularly recites the Pledge of Allegiance with a robust-ness that I've never seen or heard. If I could understand a single word (I might have heard indivisible in there somewhere and I'm pretty sure I heard her tell me to put my hand over my heart) it would be even better. I wish she could have seen Jason and Becky's daughter Livvy and seen a grown up beautiful Parker, her older sister. And I wish she could have met the wise and funny Gavin. She loved the oldest of the lot, Gabe with an intensity that only grand mothers can show.

I wish she could be here for this Christmas.

"Mary kept all these things to herself...."

Do you realize that Mary out-lived that child she knew would be the Christ?

And we sing "Mary did you know?"

Your word fulfilled

2011-12-22T08:06:00.000-06:00

And then there was Mary.

Teenager.

Unwed.

Obviously religious.

Poor.

You name it. She was it.

And when the angel came to her, she thought it over (not) about a second and said, "I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.”

Friends, as we near the celebration of Christmas, let us remember that the only answer when God the father calls us is "May your word to me be fulfilled." It isn't always easy, in fact, many time it is hard do do what God calls us to.

This Christmas, as we give and give to our kids and our grand kids, let us remember the poor, the unwed, the homeless. And let us remember to give to the Humane Society as pets are just as needy.

And then there was Joseph

2011-12-21T08:29:00.000-06:00

We're a few miles closer to Bethlehem today. It's a dark morning after a rainy night. But our memories are with us, packed in bags thrown across the donkey as it were.

Let's review the persons connected to the Christmas story once more.

Whom do we think we are?

Let's see Joseph for who he was, a forgiving man.

⁴ So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. ⁵ He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. ⁶ While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, ⁷ and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

Then in Matthew:

¹⁸ This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about^[d]: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. ¹⁹ Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet^[e] did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.
²⁰ But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ²¹ She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus,^[f] because he will save his people from their sins.”
²² All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: ²³ “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel”^[g] (which means “God with us”).
²⁴ When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. ²⁵ But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.

And ...

¹³ When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”
¹⁴ So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, ¹⁵ where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”^[c]

There. That's pretty much what we know of Joseph, and he was only the step-father of Jesus, the son of God.

What was he like? Was he even-tempered, patient, kind, pressed on all sides?

We know he was righteous.We know he was forgiving. We know he was churched. Is that enough?

Let's look at it this way: he was strong enough to do what God wanted, and God knew him enough to know that he would.

Who are the Josephs in our lives? Who are those persons sent by God for just the right moment in our lives?

Shepherds just like you and I

2011-12-20T08:43:00.001-06:00

We celebrate Christmas as one of the two most important and most revered of Christian holidays, but isn't it interesting that two of the Gospels don't even mention the virgin birth or any birth at all.

Just saying.

Anyway, let's look at Luke's Gospel for a moment as we wind our way toward the night (was it midnight, 1 a.m., 9 p.m.?) he was born.

Who do you identify with in the story?
Mary?
Joseph?
The inn keeper
You name it

I identify with a group of folk:
⁸ And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. ⁹ An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
¹³ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
¹⁴ “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
¹⁵ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

Thankless jobs. Thankless life, but all they knew and all they could do probably. Below middle-class. But here they were, the living messengers of the Good News of the birth.

J. Hampton Keathley III, on a blog called bible.org writes, "The birth of the Good Shepherd, the Great Shepherd, and the Chief Shepherd of our souls was first announced to those men whose very work spoke of the person and work of Jesus Christ—the Lamb of God. It was this Lamb who would lay down His life for us, provide for and lead us as His sheep, and then one day reward those men who have been faithful themselves as under-shepherds. The glory of God, for which Israel had long awaited, was not revealed to the priests or the Pharisees, but to shepherds. Further, there is good evidence these men may have been watching over the temple sheep, sheep designated for sacrifice, which spoke of Jesus Christ and the reason for His coming into the world. Christ took on himself true humanity. He became the babe of the cradle that He might become the man of the cross (Heb. 10:5; 2:14)."

All I know is the first persons that the birth was announced to were persons just like you and I, regular folks. That gives me a warm feeling on a cold winter's night.

Christmas is ...

2011-12-19T09:37:00.001-06:00

Working on a sermon for Christmas Eve titled Christmas Is ...

How would you fill out the sentence? I need responses for this to work, so you need to read and respond for a change.

To me, Christmas is ...

Remembering. I can't go into a Christmas without remembering the wheres, the hows, the whens and most importantly the whos. I don't remember many gifts, but I remember the gift-givers and what they did to get the gifts that meant so much.

Christmas is ...

Recurring. It's interesting to see the grand kids respond the way the children did and the way I once did. It is without question a cycle, this Christmas thing.

Christmas is ...

Giving. I'm going to tell the story of the first time I was given money to shop by myself. The amount I don't remember. The gifts I barely have remembrance. But what I remember is going through Kress Department Store and the smells of perfume and the joys of a new pair of socks or whatever it might have been. It was about giving, and I was allowed to participate for the first time in the joy of buying so that I might give. It was unforgettable.

Christmas is ...

Lights. Cameras (talk about photos?). First "stereos" and first records to go with those stereos. I was 14 when that wonderful wood stereo came to me. The first album was Glen Campbell's By The Time I Get to Phoenix. First 45s were Snoopy and the Red Baron and the Monkeys Daydream Believer. Played them, and the ones to come until they were barren and skipped.

Christmas is ...

Sneaking out of the bedroom through the window, letting myself down carefully to the ground, taking Mamas keys to the trunk of the car and opening the trunk and playing with the football inside (by myself, at night).

Christmas is ...

Mama looking all over town for a chemistry set and finding only a used one. I loved it, though no instructions came with it and I might well have blown us all up.

Christmas is ...

YOUR TURN

For sur

2011-12-16T09:23:00.000-06:00

Before fluid, like water washing against a dam's walls, build up in my chest and effectively took me out for a while, I was doing a lot of reflective work about the Christmas season. Getting back to it, I wanted to look at the season through the eyes of children.

My youngest male grand child, Gavin, is the future wordsmith in the family, I think. He sees the world differently certainly than his older brother who is the ar-tiiiist. Gavin is in a word hilarious. Filling a notebook of Gavinisms would be a good start on a TV sit-com.

On a recent trip to a drug store (my home away from home) I instructed Gavin, who is four, that he would be getting nothing toy wise in the store so there was no reason to ask. I carefully explained, then asked him to repeat it. He did. I asked a third time if he understood. He looked me square in the eyes and said, "Yes." I said the old "Yes what?" He squirreled up his nose and said, "Yes," paused and added "for sur."

We entered the store, made a wrong turn down the toy aisle and he began to ask for everything he saw, one by one, carefully, not really waiting for an answer. He was rapid-fire asking as if somehow in there would be an answer he wanted to hear. Maybe even "yes for sur."

Reaching the mid-point of the aisle, nearly laughing out loud, I stopped and looked down at him as he eyed a dinosaur something or other with relish. "Gavin, I thought we talked about not asking for things in this store." He answered without thought or pause, "I hoped you had changed your mind."

Fair enough, for sur.

Recently as my oldest daughter visited me in that dreaded hospital (my second home away from home), she told me that she and Gavin had had a discussion about what Christmas was about. The answer for her to him came close to being a good one. She and he talked about family and what family means and how family and Christmas should be good buddies.

Gavin decided, she said, he would go around telling everyone, his big brother, his step-cousin Karli, his cousin Emma, that Christmas is about family. Remember this is a kid who asked for everything in a DRUG store, so perhaps family is a big, big step.

The Christian family would be a good next step for learning for him.

All this led me to thinking about that "first family" of Christmas. Growing up, was Jesus like most of us? Did he live a typical kid-like life? Was he sickly, strong, pushy, good-tempered? What was he like with the neighbors, the kids in the neighborhood?

In Rich Mullins song Boy like you, man like me, he wrote, "You was a baby like I was once, you were cryin' in the early morning; you were born in a stable, Reid Memorial was where I was born; They wrapped you in swaddling clothes, me they dressed in baby blue. ... And you was a boy like I was once But was You a boy like me? I grew up around Indiana, you grew up in Galilee; And if I ever grow up Lord I want to grow up and be just like you."

The point is as clear as toys on a shelf. Jesus grew up like every other little boy and girls in the tiny Jewish villages that circled the life-giving water of the Sea of Galilee. He began to learn the work that his father, Joseph, worked at...carpentry or stone masonry or whatever that work truly was. He began to learn in the synagogues that were home to the men of the area. He learned, the scriptures say.

He learned about family, before there was a Christmas.

The key, then, before there is a Christmas, is to love family deeply. Though there be ups and necessary downs, though there be arguments and clashes and shocking deaths and wonderful holidays together, it is all about family.

Though I was sick enough to be wobbly and wacky this past weekend, the lift I got from seeing my three children together was well worth is. If there was anything on the planet I could change it would be to have them and Mary and I live close together and see each other much, much more often.

For sur.

Recovery time

2011-12-15T08:11:00.000-06:00

As you recover from whatever ails you in the hospital, one has numerous occasions to think. Since I'm already more in the thinking that doing camp, this set me into stages of thinking delirium. In other words, I thought a lot. A lot.

I thought often of how much I love being a pastor, of how much I missed preaching, of how preaching affects me, of how much I miss being the visiting person than the one being visited but how much being visited lifted me each and ever time someone came in.

Reading the Holy Word this morning, I came across this little description of what Paul saw to be the role of ministers under his care...

"Appoint leaders in every town according to my instructions. As you select them, ask, "Is this man well-thought-of? Is he committed to his wife? Are his children believers? Do they respect him and stay out of trouble?" It's important that a church leader, responsible for the affairs in God's house, be looked up to—not pushy, not short-tempered, not a drunk, not a bully, not money-hungry. He must welcome people, be helpful, wise, fair, reverent, have a good grip on himself, and have a good grip on the Message, knowing how to use the truth to either spur people on in knowledge or stop them in their tracks if they oppose it."

I looked inside immediate. Well-thought of? That's for others to decide, of course. Committed to his wife? Not as much as I should be for Mary saved me from the dreaded pneumonia for a second time in just a year. She helps save me daily, though, and I love her as deep as rain falling in the Grand Canyon. Looked up to? The office of pastor is worthy of being looked up to almost immediately. I try to not let people down (though getting sick and missing time really bummed me out, again). Not pushy, short-tempered, not a drunk, bully, money-hungry, welcoming, helpful, wise, fair, reverent, good grip on myself and the Gospel? All I believe I try to be.

Are my children believers? Though they aren't much for attending, I think with my head as well as my heart that they are believers. And I know they love me. Truthfully it it worth being in the dreaded hospital bed simply to be visited with love by your children. Each of my three have grown into wonderful adults and I thank God for them.

Summed into teachable themes, Paul said that those who he wanted to be in charge of his "churches" were not perfect people but men who were committed -- committed to the Lord, to the Message, to family. Committed? You betcha.

I love loving, not being loved. I love teaching as well as being taught. And if three or four days in the hospital are what it takes to again be humbled and to be taught, so be it.

Paul concludes with this sentence: They must pay attention to the reliable message as it has been taught to them so they can encourage people with healthy instruction and refute those who speak against it.

Time in the hospital bed is time well spent if it is not only in recovery but in growth.

From the hospital bed to you

2011-12-14T08:28:00.000-06:00

Some observations from my back in a hospital room bed...

Who knew ESPN simply repeated not only segments of shows but whole shows time after time after time? Nah. Didn't think so.

Is there anything going on in the NFL right now besides Tim Tebow? Oh, Tom Brady. Oh, the Green Bay Packers. That's it, apparently. Does anyone in the country know that the New Orleans Saints have clinched a playoff berth for the third straight season, have the best record in the NFC in the past six years and can still clinch second place in the playoff seedings? Nah. Didn't think so.

You have to leave the hospital to get some rest. Does anyone really think that checking my blood pressure at 4 a.m. is necessary if that's not why I went into the hospital? Nah. Didn't think so.

Who invented the narrative device for fiction television shows that shows you the ending at the beginning then after a commercial comes back with the printed words, two days earlier or six hours earlier or whatever and what can we do to make them stop?

How I've missed my churches these past two weeks. My journey onto my back in a hospital room began with what one doctor thought was a pulled muscle in my side that turned out to be pneumonia. After draining fluid from back side, body cavity, lung or check book (I'm not sure), I am upright again and mostly out of the worst pain I can remember for quite a while. Twice in one year I've had pneumonia. Never had it before. Don't know where it came from or why. Never want to have it again. Never want to have someone stick a long needle into my back without me being unconscious again in my lifetime. Never want to watch 14 hours of ESPN again in my lifetime either. Did I mention they repeat entire shows?

It's good to be back. Back in the scriptures. Back to life. Back to friends and family and the time leading up to Christmas. All the things I've felt I missed, I'm glad to be back to them. I missed them all.

Except ESPN. Did I mention they repeat....

Joe Say Can You See?

2011-12-09T08:42:00.000-06:00

Several years ago, Shanna, Carrie, Jason, Mary and I attended our first Major League baseball game together. We spent a little extra to get good seats, seats you could embrace the possissibilities that for one summer evening your chance of catching a pop fly was a good as anyone else's. A nine-year-old softball player with soft hands a hinh

Shanna was dancing around.n the aisles that May, her pale skin, the most blonde hair I'd ever seen and those untellable turquoise eyes making me nervous as if she as going to trip and begin a fee fall that would land her begise one oas sometimes what we were sure would happen, does not. We sit at the kitchen table as somebodys favorite baseball player and a team parted ways, the player the happy, happy, camper.

Look at it this way: Today is a fresh start for the St. Louis Cadinal. For the first time in 11 years, they are in need of a few first basemen. The long career of Jose Pujoles ended in St. Louis. I spent the next 20 years or so as I rememberedit rooting for the Braves to little availab,.

But on this one special night, as Shanna screamed "Let's go Joe Seeeee. Heck, say it he

The feet of Christ

2011-12-07T07:50:00.000-06:00

I went back to look at the first house I can remember living in a few years back, from the outside, and I was shocked at how small it seemed. I really would have loved to have seen the inside to compare, but what the heck. It was small.

It didn't seem that way growing up. It seemed to be big. The second house, the one in Lizelia that I still call home and will forever I guess, was huge even in my young memory. But the little house in Oakland Heights that sent me out into the world in the first and second grade was big to me.

I remember little other than two friends I had when I lived there, but I remember one Christmas Morning. I woke while it was still dark, I still believe prompted by some sound, and ran into the little living room. The small tree and its gifts were under there and I was ecstatic. But just before you got to them, there was a big boot print. Mud, as I recall.

Of course that sent me into a delirium that was matched by the frowns of my father and mother who were not happy I had risen so early. I saw EVIDENCE that there was a Santa.

I was thinking about this story and it led me to think of those disciples who continually wanted signs and wonders to be given to them by our Lord. They walked with the man, saw him, saw him heal and such and still couldn't believe.

We have been given a tough task, this faith road we're on. But I believe there are always a few boot steps along the way to give us hope. We just have to look for them

Breaking the bank

2011-12-06T08:50:00.000-06:00

Ah, we're stepping closer and closer to that wonderful birth event. So another look back:

I was in West Virginia, again, for a Christmas. I had real ideas about what I wanted for Christmas. Concrete ideas. Ideas as strong as any on the Christmas Story movie. I wanted (tadda) a Lassie dog for Christmas.

They had been offering them on television on one of my favorite shows (and by the way I mentioned this to my grandboys the other day and they didn't know who or what Lassie was. Ughhh) and I wanted one. Nothing else as I remember, which is probably wrong since I always wanted so much.

But Christmas eve came and Santa was featured on the weather channel as coming in for a landing at such and such time in Fairmont, and I drifted into sleep knowing I would be awakened by a bark or two.

I woke the next morning, I scrambled down stairs and there under the tree was a Lassie ....bank. A plastic bank in the form of Lassie.

Clearly Santa had gotten this wrong. The message hadn't come through. Surely this was a mix-up that could be fixed. What was the statue of limitations, I wondered (or something like that).

I came close to a Lassie dog once when I was nine, having a collie I loved, but things didn't work out there either. Seems Lassie, and all her tricks, was for television.

Thinking of this I wonder, how many of our prayers are sent to the one who wants nothing more than to hear them as Santa requests? I wonder how many times we feel they've been misheard, they've been misinterpreted or they flat out weren't heard at all?

Perhaps it's our methods not our Master that is at fault. Just saying...

Tim Tebow and Aaron Rodgers

2011-12-05T08:33:00.000-06:00

Let's give another side to the argument about testimony. This comes from Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers in reference to Tim Tebow, the currently glory story in the NFL:

"Well I started playing before Tim, so these are things I've thought about for a long time, and I think one thing that I try to look at when I was a younger player, and I mean, in high school, junior college and Division I, I was always interested in seeing how guys talked in their interviews, talked about their faith, or didn't talk about their faith. And then the reactions at times, I know Bob Costas at one point was critical about a player thanking Jesus Christ after a win, questioning what would happen if that player had lost, or do you really think God cares about winning and losing.
"I feel like my stance and my desire has always been to follow a quote from St. Francis of Assisi, who said, 'Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.' So basically, I'm not an over-the-top, or an in-your-face kind of guy with my faith. I would rather people have questions about why I act the way I act, whether they view it as positive or not, and ask questions, and then given an opportunity at some point, then you can talk about your faith a little bit. I firmly believe, just personally, what works for me, and what I enjoy doing is letting my actions speak about the kind of character that I want to have, and following that quote from St. Francis.''

Tebow, I saw yesterday in a two-minute clip, was asked a question about how his team had come back to win one more time, and he began with "First I want to thank my Lord and Savior."

I've written before that there is nothing wrong with this. He is praising his Savior.

The question, I would think, becomes what are you trying to accomplish by saying that so often? If it is to help others to Christ, I doubt that helps completely. But as a method of praising, it is superb. But I also want to say that if making disciples is our main job as Christians, keeping silent always might not be the best way to go.

So who is right?

Both, of course. Speak and act. Act and speak.

Give glory to God and be a glory to God.

Black days ahead

2011-12-02T09:15:00.000-06:00

I remember the day he and his wife came into my church in Lutcher. They are from the Caribbean, but they are black none the same. When they came in, they were the first black folks to enter Lutcher United Methodist Church.

My friends were running late and were looking for my church. They stopped and were given directions to another church than mine. See, there's a black version (almost a photo negative) of the LUMC just down the road, across the railroad tracks. It was there my friends found themselves first, and they were welcomed handily. They asked for me, a Caucasian friend, and were told there was no way I would be there. Members of that church thought for a minute, laughed about it and sent them on their way to my church.

My friends were welcomed warmly for any visitor to that church was a moment of joy. Still, they were the first blacks in the church, and it was the year 2,000.

I read this yesterday : In Tomahawk, Ky., a vote to bar interracial couples from a small church in eastern Kentucky triggered hand-wringing and embarrassment.

It is, by the way, the year 2011 as a church tries to BAR interractial couples from entering its church. One must figure that homosexuals, drunks, closet wife abusers, smokers, druggies and such never are invited to this church, which one assumes has never shown grace to an outsider.

Nine members of Gulnare Freewill Baptist Church backed their former pastor, with six opposed, in Sunday's vote to bar interracial couples from church membership and worship activities. Funerals were excluded.The vote was taken after most of the 40 people who attended Sunday services had left the church in Pike County, near the border with West Virginia. Many members left to avoid the vote.

Most members of the church "didn't want anything to do with this," said longtime church official Dean Harville, whose daughter and her black fiance had drawn pastor Melvin Thompson's ire.

At services earlier this year, Stella Harville, 24, who is working on her master's degree in optical engineering, sang "I Surrender All" with her fiance, Ticha Chikuni, 29, a Zimbabwe native, according to her father. Chikuni, an employee at Georgetown College in Kentucky, played the piano.

"There didn't appear to be any problem," Dean Harville said on Wednesday. "None whatsoever."

But Harville said Thompson told him the couple would not be allowed to sing at the church again. Thompson resigned in August but would not drop the issue.

Thompson told a local radio outlet, "I do not believe in interracial marriages, and I do not believe this (ban) will give our church a black eye at all." He could not be reached for comment.

There are numerous things I could write about this, but the simplest question is why the church is having a vote based upon what a former pastor would say and where is the current preacher in this. Be a leader man. Second, isn't Thompson crazy to think that the vote won't give his former church a black eye? Third, the 25 who left the church because they didn't want to vote are cowards. Fourth, where does Thompson come across this in scripture? Finally, I simply add, "good grief."

The church in America has so many problems today. We struggle and fight over the issue of homosexuality, which is covered with scripture to help us understand the issue. We're losing members over the fight about worship styles, which isn't even scriptural. Then issues of race come in and you just want to either smite them or sit down and weep.

We're headed to the baby's birth. I'm ready for the adult to return instead.

Brian's Song and the torrent of tears

2011-12-01T10:21:00.001-06:00

"I love Brian Piccolo. And I'd like all of you to love him, too. And tonight, when you hit your knees, please ask God to love him." Gayle Sayers, running back Chicago Bears

And that was the first time I cried at a movie, albeit a TV movie. I was a senior in high school when Brian's Song was aired. My recollection was that the movie played late on the night of Nov. 30, 1971 my Senior year. I think all those Tuesday night movies of the week did for some reason. The local channels in my hometown of Meridian, Miss. did for some reason play shows later than their planned starting time often. I don't remember if I ever knew why. But my memory, certainly not what it once was, tells me it was late in the evening when I saw this. It as also late in the evening when I first saw All in the Family, but I digress.

I stayed up with my little black and white television in my room and watched this movie that I had no idea of its subject matter. As I recall, it simply was exciting to stay up later than normal.

I was mesmerized. It was a football-related movie, so instantly I was enthralled. I didn't know the story after that, so I prepped for a late night knowing I would watch all of it.

The more I watched, the more I fell into its trance. I still believe it is the best TV movie of all time. But beyond it's greatness was its depth.

Somewhere in that movie, which is about bonding football roommates on the Chicago Bears Brian Piccolo and Gayle Sayers (my favorite running back of all time) I lost my heart to it.

The story was this: Piccolo died of cancer at the age of 26. Piccolo was a good running back, drafted by the Bears after leading the nation in rushing his senior year. He was white. The two players were positional rivals, and the first interracial roommates on the Bears. Piccolo parodied the periods racial tensions with a subversive sense of humor. Once asked what Piccolo and Sayers talked about on the road. He said, "Oh, the usual racist stuff. He calls me by my nickname, Honky. We get along fine as long as he doesn't use the bathroom. He sleeps in the lampshade.

Understand that at the time of the movie, it was almost a national rule that grown men don't cry. You held in your emotions. You kept your emotions in check. Heck, you weren't even supposed to have any emotions. Sometimes after Piccolo's diagnosis, he reportedly told his wife, Joy, "you can't cry. It's a league rule."

In a 2008 interview for the Archive of American Television, screenplay writer William Blinn was asked about the movie's legacy. "It's easy," he replied instantly. "I can't tell you how many times guys have said to me, 'That's the first time I cried around other guys.' That sounds stupid. And it is to some degree. And now it's on television as a cliched joke, and that's OK, I got no problem with that. But there's something to be said for that. (Actor) Kurt Russell said 'I'd never cried at a movie before that picture.' Manipulative? Yeah, sure it is. Sentimental? Yes, sure it is. So what?"

All I know is as I watched this in my room, tears ran down my cheeks like summer rain. I've had that experience since at the movies ET and Field of Dreams and Hoosiers and a few others and previous to that as a child I wept openly at a viewing of Old Yeller. I recently saw three different trailer/teasers of the movie War Horse, which comes out on Christmas Day. I teared up at each of them. Sports and animal movies are wet shirt movies for me much of the time. but there was nothing quite like Brian's Song in that regard. Steve Rushin of Sports Illustrated said before that movie men were known to have tear ducts but no one had actually seen them use them.

Cry. Me?

When Sayers (played by Billy Dee Williams) says that above quote, I was shaken to my core. I did some of those choke-tears where breath is a challenge you're crying so hard. I think I might even have made some noise. It was that sad.

In the New Testament lies the shortest verse in the Bible. In perspective, Jesus' friend Lazarus has just died. Jesus was away when word came to him of this event. He came, not rushing, but he came. He was too late, of course. We pick up this story there: "Where have you laid him," he asked. "Come and see, Lord, "they replied. Jesus wept. then the Jews said, "See how he loved him."

Jesus wept. There it is. Emotions on display. Though Jesus knew he would save his friend, knew he would return him intact from the dead, knew he would produce unimaginable joy, Jesus wept. The obvious question, then, is why. why would Jesus weep knowing what he knew?

I believe it was because Jesus knew what Lazarus would return to, a world without tears or better yet a world without love.

In Brian's Song, a black and white man lived and loved together. Maybe what we all cried for during a watching of that movie is our longing for a world where races get along, where men can give their all to whatever it is they do and still have time for family, a world where pain is secondary to rejoicing.

I think we call that world heaven.

Brian's Song lives on 40 years later. What a tribute to fellowship and friendship and living and dying the best we can. If you haven't seen it, find it, watch it (with Kleenex in hand).

The key moment of Christmas

2011-11-30T08:36:00.001-06:00

Assuming that my little but loyal readership is filled with adults, I ask this question...when and/or how did you learn there was no Santa.

I was talking with my wife, Mary, recently about such things and I looked into the far-distant past for this anecdote.

I was 8 years of age, which I think is somewhere about the appropriate age. I was in West Virginia for the Christmas season, maybe a week, with snow ordered and delivered. I was told to go down to the basement of my Aunt Elsie's house and get something out of the suitcase. There I found a transistor radio, which was my desire and my question of Santa. I thought for long minutes about this, and with my cousin having blabbed earlier and my parents having denied the cousin's statement, thing began to click into gear. I went upstairs and asked, and just like that there was no Santa. It was like a very quick, without drugs, operation. One minute I had Santa. The next I didn't.

My life wasn't changed. I wasn't a new person. The Christmas gifts didn't change; they still came. Only the one giving them changed, and that was only in my mind.

There's a bigger change I want to talk about. Does anyone remember with the same clarity the moment they came to Christ?

Isn't that what these holidays should be about? Shouldn't we be telling our kids, our grand kids, our friends and our neighbors about that moment?

Just asking.

Coming and then going

2011-11-28T08:49:00.003-06:00

Today I'm going to begin a journey with my readers, a journey into the past, my past, everyone's past in some ways, as well as look ahead to the coming again of our Lord, Jesus. I'm going to muse about this journey we take together for the season of Advent, which in itself is a self-contained look back and a wistfully wonderful look ahead. Advent means coming, speaking of our Lord's first, then second coming. But there's no doubt that for me it's about reflection, coming and then going.

Five years ago last Friday, the 25th of November, I bent over, slipped through a barbed-wire fence and walked through pasture-land to the edge of a hill. The drop wasn't a large one, but the hill led to a huge, flat pasture split like a vein in an old arm by a creek. It wasn't painting-pure, postcard scenery, but I loved that look and had for years. There were times when, life being what it's always been, I almost crawled back there to take a few minutes to push reset, to reboot my being. When I walked back there the morning of the 25th, in 2006, I walked back there for the last time.

See, my mother was ill. Deathly ill it turned out. She had lung cancer. We sold her six acres, gave bits and pieces of her "stuff" to the kids and packed up the rest ourselves. The computer with which I'm doing this pondering sits on a desk that came from her house, a desk given to me when I was in high school eons ago. She had moved to an assisted living home just a month before we divided the property, and we sold her house, "our" house in record time.

We cooked and ate Thanksgiving dinner that year, a slimmed down meal at that, and proceeded to pack up life, or what had been all our lives, the rest of Thursday as we prepared for a Friday departure. U-haul was our friend.

So there I was on Friday, looking at the place where I killed my only squirrel (and regretted it to that day), the place where I went swimming in the creek with Lynn Pratt, the place where we called cows (before their "eat more chicken" phase), the place where we walked on pine straw and imagined space invaders, walked on grass with eyes wide and alert for copperheads or moccasins, the place where we grew emotionally and even physically over years of play. I looked at the land as mist lazily rose from it, covering the postcard with a surreal, even somber dusting on that cool morning. I tried, successfully it seems, to freeze it in my memory as if I had many mega pixels to work with in my tired, old brain.

Then I, we, walked and then drove away. I haven't been back. I don't think I really can, though my cousin I'm now told had purchased my mother's house as well as all the land.

My mother passed away about a month later, Dec. 23, 2006, and our lives certainly changed. No more driving to her house for Thanksgiving and/or Christmas. No more dead-sleep naps, as my grandson Gavin described a cat's drowsy moments last week, on her couch after loads of heavy "dressing" and often dry turkey. No more moments with her. Holidays sometimes make me cringe, having lost my childhood home around Thanksgiving and my mother around Christmas. It is what it is.

And certainly no more gazing, peacefully, securely, wonderfully at that land crossed by a barbed-wire fence, dissected by tall oak and pine soldiers, and a creek that has become overgrown by bushes and tragically dried to to point that no one in his or her right mind would ever consider wading in it. Heck, snakes must have packed their tiny bags and slithered away rather than call Ponta Creek their home any more. We've all aged and weathered and moved.

Five years come and gone.
Five years.

Advent is a time of reflection, of staring at pasts good and bad and remembering. It's what I used to use the hill and the valley for. God promised, through the boy-king David's writings, that he would walk with us through those valleys.

Now?

Driving the grand kid boys home on Thanksgiving, I began a rousing rendition of "Over the hills and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go." Four-year-old Gavin said, "I hate that song."

Everything changes, my friends. Everything. We come and then we go. We arrive and we depart. We are born, then we die. We are togther, then quickly apart. We are. We aren't.

Black Friday indeed

2011-11-25T08:38:00.002-06:00

So, we've lived (apparently) through another Black Friday. My wife, sick though she was, left the house somewhere around 3 a.m. and returned somewhere around 5:30 a.m. The dogs decided barking at a complete stranger they see every day would be appropriate. It was seasonably cold this morning before daybreak, so said my wife the sick one, and she had to stand in line (have I ever mentioned how much I detest lines?) outside a JC Penney's to get monumental savings on a gift for a granddaughter.

My daughter and son-in-law are maniac about this day. They plan, like fishermen with their thoughts of where the best fishing would be, and keep totals of their savings as they march (run, fight, tussle, strike) with others who have done the same. I suspect the game-plans for the Saints and the Giants this Monday night are not as elaborate as their plans for purchasing at cut prices were. Each year they nap, rid themselves of children (no, they don't kill, just ship them off), and prepare apparently by doing breathing exercises and sit ups so they can fight off those other dastardly customers. One story was told of a dive into a pet pillow only to be covered in pet pillows as other customers thinking mistakeningly that the pet pillow was on sale when it was not began their dive as well. One can come up with a pulled hammy easily as one tries to save $19.95 a purchase. And one hears that the economy is dead because people won't buy things. One would be nuts in that regard.

I don't get any of this, since those savings are routinely available in July at a decent hour, but mine is not to reason why, I'm told. I still maintain that nothing good happens between midnight and 6 a.m. I remember those hourse vaguely through another set of red eyes from days gone by in another life that I, again, can barely remember. But my lot now is to support their wise, economical choices. So I'm doing that, while sleeping the night away (minus time going back to sleep with the dogs' coming and going).

I do wonder, however, (and this is the point) why this is called Black Friday if the savings are so good in a similar manner to why greatest Friday of them all, that day Jesus hung on the cross bloody and in tremendous pain before dying for all of us, is called Good Friday. Part of me thinks we should start an Occupy Friday movement and reverse the names. I'll dream about that tonight, possibly, as I get a full, complete, uninterrupted sleep.

Be REAL thankful

2011-11-24T09:17:00.000-06:00

We pick out a day to be thankful, and most offer up thanks to something or someone of their choosing. We do. And things go swimmingly at the homes of families across the nation.

But today, for a few minutes as my wife lays in bed with a stomach virus and two loud grandchildren are pouring their voices into the leaves outside my office window and plans for a family sit down go awry, I want us to remember those who are thankful but have so little.

We in this country, as we have habit of saying, talk about what we're thankful for, but we really, really don't know need, even the poorest of us. Our entitlements and such give us a chance, a real chance, to live if not advance.

But in nations around the world today, they are hungry. Just hungry. As we give large turkey bones to the dogs, as we throw out what would feed a family of 20 in the Sudan, as we forget what we've been given by a loving and caring God, let us slow down for a second.

Today as we claps hands for the first time in a while and we lower our eyes though our children know little of what it is we're doing, let's remember that we have been blessed in whatever it is we have.

As Peter once said words to this effect: Where else would we go, Lord?

Tim Tebow and Jake Plummer

2011-11-23T08:49:00.000-06:00

Okay, maybe you saw (or care) about the comments former Denver Broncos (NFL) quarterback Jake Plummer said about current Denver quarterback (and wonderful Christian spokesman) Tim Tebow of yesterday.

Plummer said, "Regardless of whether I wish he'd just shut up after a game and go hug his teammates, I think he's a winner and I respect that about him," Plummer told XTRA Sports 910 in Phoenix on Monday.

Sounds okay, so far, huh?

Then ...
"I think that when he accepts the fact that we know that he loves Jesus Christ then I think I'll like him a little better," he added. "I just would rather not have to hear that every single time he takes a good snap or makes a good handoff."

I could say a lot of relatively meaningless things, but I'll let Tebow speak first. "Well, first I'd say, thank you for the compliment of calling me a winner and then I'd also say if you're married and you're a [husband] is it good enough to only say you love her on the day you get married or should you tell her every single day when you wake up and have an opportunity? And that's how I feel about my relationship with Jesus Christ. It is the most important thing in my life so anytime I get an opportunity to tell him that I love him or give him an opportunity to shout him out on national TV, I'm gonna take that opportunity. So I look at that as a relationship that I have with him that I want to give him honor and glory anytime I have the opportunity and then right after I give him honor and glory, then I want to try and give my teammates honor and glory and that's how it works because Christ comes first in my life. Then my family, and then my teammates. So I respect Jake's opinion and I really appreciate his compliment of calling me a winner but I feel like anytime I get the opportunity to give the Lord some praise, he is due for it because of what he did for me and what he did for us on the cross for all of us."

I have to say that that is the absolute best defense of one's love of Christ that I've ever seen.
Absolute best.

I understand the reasoning of those who are not Christian who don't want "others telling me what to believe." I understand it. It's just wrong. No Christian should ever tell anyone "what to believe." Jesus himself didn't do that. He simply offered. Telling someone else what you so passionately believe isn't telling someone else they must believe it. Is it okay to believe that will help someone if you do tell them? Not only is it okay, but Jesus did tell us to go and make disciples. Will telling someone how very much we believe help them to believe it? I sure hope so. I should do that more with my children, my grandchildren, my neighbors, my friends, my enemies.

Tim Tebow has a stage, THE stage for a little while. For him to let everyone know how blessed he feels is to BE a Christian. He gets it. He gets that despite a large salary, despite getting to play a game he loves, despite three-fourths of the world telling him and everyone else that he can't do what he does successfully, he would be nothing without Jesus.

That's Christianity. And anyone who believes that should know there will be detractors, even haters of everything we are and everything we believe.

Just like football, Tim Tebow says bring it on in a gentle manner. So, frankly, do I.

Peace versus risk

2011-11-22T08:14:00.000-06:00

Imagine a beautiful moment out on a peaceful lake. No murmuring of persons from your work about your work. No screaming kids, barking dogs, yaking yakkers. Peace. Maybe even a drip of fog as the morning sun rises above your tranquility.

Peter, bored, tired, worried, scared perhaps, wanted such a morning. Jesus had died, been buried and Peter's dreams had gone into the tomb with him. So, Peter decided to do what Peter does or did before the young Nazarene came into is life: he went fishing on Lake Tiberius (or as most of us know it today, the Sea of Galilee).

While there, he had one of those mornings. He was full of peace, though his nets were not full of fish. He understood this life. He knew what and how to do the next right thing when he was fishing.

But no fish. And it was noticeable. at least to a young man who hollered at the boat of fishermen, "young men, haven't you caught anything?" The man told them to throw their nets on the right side of the board and they would catch some. The men did. And like it had happened once before, suddenly they had fish.

Long story short, Peter recognized Jesus, the risen Lord, and flopped his way out of the boat and onto shore to have some breakfast with him.

My point is this: Sometimes even our greatest ministry ideas go belly-up. We fail. We risked and we were turned away. The question then becomes what to do next? Do we go back to what we knew before we risked everything? Or do we look for the young Galilean on the beach to restore us and prep us for new ministry, new ideas, new disciples?

The question comes up weekly, doesn't it?

A wonderful weekend?

2011-11-21T08:45:00.001-06:00

Okay, I'll admit my stupidity, quite humbly I might add.

I don't understand the protests, the Occupy protests. So I went in search of meaning for my meager readership.

First, I understand that what started as Occupy Wall Street, a grassroots protest meant to draw attention to corporate greed and unequal distribution of wealth in the United States, has grown, with mirror protests popping up in Denver, Boston, Philadelphia, New Orleans and Los Angeles.

To some, this proliferation makes the effort appear a bit more legit. Critics scoffed as they watched demonstrators gather in New York City’s Zuccotti Park with homemade signs opposing a broad range of issues – from tax breaks for the wealthy, to student loan debt, to nonspecific concerns like “unemployment.” To them, Occupy was a bunch of noise with no focus, accomplishing nothing – hubbub without substance. But as the protests have stuck around, and spread, the collective anger of those taking part has become more tangible.
Supporters say that even though the Occupy movement doesn’t have a formal list of demands, it has already achieved what it set out to do – a broad demonstration of frustration that’s as inspired as much by the sit-in protests of the 1960s and ’70s as it is by the “Arab Spring” uprisings that sparked revolutions against dictators in the Middle East this year. Organizers in New York initially planned their occupation to last for two months – almost a month in, they now say their stay will be open-ended.

So, the 99 percent (Americans among the non-wealthy) is protesting that the one percent is gaining and continuing to gain all the wealth. I get that. I do.

The point I don't get is what they hope to accomplish, what is the demand they want accomplished? Do they think their protests will result in the one percent giving up their tax loop holes or their wealth? Really?

With colleges protests, I understand the need to graduate with some freedom still available. Have student loans forgiven. It doesn't make sense that one can get overwhelming debts discharged through bankruptcy, but not student loans. Young graduates are the new indentured servants, working all their lives to pay off debt accrued before they get started.

But nothing explains to me why police are doing what they're doing with the protesters. The video of the police pepper spraying the students in California or the other video of protesters being hit in the stomach with batons simply runs chills down my spine.

The video, which shows the officer using the spray against Occupy protesters Friday, went viral over the weekend. On Sunday, the university placed two police officers on administrative leave while a task force investigates. The clip probably will be the defining imagery of the Occupy movement, rivaling in symbolic power, if not in actual violence, images from the Kent State shootings more than 40 years ago.

So what does this all mean? I'm still not sure, hence my stupidity.

I read this morning that one of the proposals to cut some of the budget, something that must happen no matter which party you belong to, was to eliminate a tax loop hole that the wealthy have for buying personal airplanes. The whole thing fell apart because of that.

Seriously, where are we in this country? Airplane loopholes and pepper spraying. What a weekend.

Jesus weeps, still

2011-11-18T08:45:00.000-06:00

The shortest line of scripture in the Bible is perhaps the most poignant: "Jesus wept." It when Jesus shows up after his friend Lazarus has died. Lazarus' sister, Mary, says to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." Jesus' reaction? He wept.

What have you done recently that might have caused the Prince of Peace to weep?

Jesus weeps when children are abused, sexually and otherwise. He weeps when we're so filled with greed that the world suffers because of it. He weeps when we, the most powerful and richest nation on the planet can't make sure that every child in the world goes to sleep each night having been fed. He weeps when he sees how we've wrecked what he created.

Jesus weeps and will continue to weep until people look into their hearts and souls and resolve to become genuine Christians.

I believe Jesus weeps when we don't show him gratitude, when we don't show him adoration, when we don't obey, don't help, don't try.
When will we stop doing all we do that causes him to weep? Perhaps when, as Jesus did after weeping over his friend Lazraus, the stone is rolled away again and Jesus emerges as King of Kings.

Beautiful words

2011-11-17T08:51:00.000-06:00

In John's Gospel, we're told of Jesus' teaching about the Bread of Life and the subsequent teaching of this: "I am telling you the truth: if you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you will not have life in yourselves. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them to life on the last day."

The crowd went wild in celebration, right? Uh, you'd be wrong there.

The Bible says many of his followers heard this and said, "This teaching is too hard. Who can listen to it." Because of this, the scriptures say, many of Jesus' followers turned back and would not go with him any more.

We've dabbled in the past two years, since I retired on Nov. 14 2009 from another job, another life in journalism, in Jesus' teaching. Many who hear his teaching after 2,000 years still think the teaching is too hard and refuse to listen to it.

Here's the shocker. It is hard. There is nothing easy about the life of Christianity. I heard someone at a service I was preaching at last night for the community in which we live say that he believed there were raises coming for everyone there. Raises.

I wish I not only could believe that, but could find that in scripture. I don't believe it. I don't think Jesus teaches it. And as John Wesley said, reason would dictate that is not one of his tenants since so many not only have not have raises but no longer have jobs.

Instead, what I believe Jesus teaches is that though we lose jobs and don't get raises even that can be turned to the good for those who love our Lord.

If we simply wait for all the good things to come and they always come, that isn't a very difficult teaching at all. The numbers would swell. People would get behind Christianity in a new way, the way of the blessing. Oh, that's the prosperity gospel, isn't it?

Jesus asked his 12 disciples if they would want to leave because of the difficult teaching. Simon Peter answered, "Lord, to whom would we go. You have the words of eternal life. And now we believe and know that you are the Holy One who has come from God."

That's the prosperity that Jesus taught. He is the one, the only one, who has these words and they words are about eternity, not prosperity as the world sees it.

Tough teaching? Perhaps. But beautiful are the words of the one who brings good news...

Choices matter

2011-11-16T08:15:00.000-06:00

It seems to me that in the very long run, life, religion, economics, finance, health, and everything I can't think of right now that will come to me later is about choices.

The best choices, I think, are the ones that keep us on the path that God has laid out for us. But ultimately, choices good and bad are what spur that life along.

Someone once said, There are always two choices. Two paths to take. One is easy. And its only reward is that it's easy."

This past weekend, the Atlanta Falcons' (NFL football team) coach Mike Smith had a choice. In an overtime game with the New Orleans Saints, he had a fourth-down and one yard to go on his own 29-yard line. In essence, the choice was go for it with the outcome being make it and continue to have the football in his team's possession or not make it and essentially lose the game or he could punt. After much deliberation, he went for it. And his team did not make it, and it did lose.

Now, having not made the first down, people all over the nation have called him dumb or reckless or names I can't use here. If he had made it, he would have been called brave and a real man and all sorts of names I can't use here.

I've thought about that much since. Is it only the outcome that determines whether a choice is a good one or not?

Someone once said, "Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely."

I think that with everything we have a choice. Some choices made are brave ones that fail. If we're really intent on growth, we try to understand why they failed and we put ourselves in a position to make those same brave choices but have them succeed. If we're not intent on growth, we simply play it safe the rest of our lives and never make braves choices.

Having said all that, let me point out that to accept Jesus Christ as our Lord, not only as Savior, is a risky, rebellious, ragamuffin way of living. It is a brave choice, no matter the outcome. We choose to suffer. We choose to do the hard thing. We choose to carry crosses. And sometimes we even choose to knowingly, seemingly fail by the world's standards.

Jesus himself said, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it."

Today you have little choices. Pray or not pray. Witness vocally and physically or not. Do the right thing or not.

You might have a big one, or two.

In any case, the way to make good, correct, well-thought out choices is not to rely on your own understanding but have the mind of Christ. His Spirit lives in you so that you might live in this world in a right perspective.

Choose wisely by choosing Christ. The outcome isn't the answer. The path to the outcome always is.

Prime judging material

2011-11-15T08:07:00.000-06:00

I remember many times that the older persons in my life would caution me when I would say something about someone else that we are "not to judge." I would then, later, hear them talk about so-and-so for 30 minutes or more if so-and-so had done something they either didn't agree with or said something they disagreed with or simply didn't look right at the moment.

We've all been there. One person's "trying to help" is another person's judging.

In the time that Paul was the top op-ed columnist in the world, one of the hot topics was that what would the rules be in this new religion that was being called Christianity. These new members of the church, would they be Jews or would they be something else, some hybrid. Would the Law apply to them or would they get a pass and go straight on to this grace Paul was writing about.

I write that with a tone of humor, but frankly, the church today hasn't figured that out yet, so go figure how hard it must have been for those persons in the early church.

So Paul writes this in Romans, "Welcome those who are weak in faith, but do not argue with them about their personal opinions. Some people's faith allows them to eat anything, but the persons who is weak in the faith eats only vegetables. The person who will eat anything is not to despise the one who doesn't; while the one who eats only vegetables is not to pass judgment on the one who will eat anything; for God has accepted that person. Who are you to judge the servants of someone else? It is their own Master who will decide whether they succeed or fail. And they will succeed because the Lord is able to make them succeed."

All that is metaphorical, I imagine, but there are those who would not read that passage as being metaphorical and they would build an entire religion around vegetable eating. There are those who will read the sentence I just wrote and say to themselves, "My, isn't he being judgmental?"

It's a slippery slope that all begin to fall on.

When I began this ministry thing, one of the first things I was surprised to find out was that there were persons going into the ministry who didn't think like I did scripturally, philosophically, theologically, heck sports-wise. You name it. There was a great cauldron of thought. I immediately judged all those folks as being wrong. I was right. Clearly.

Nah. What I've learned over time is that God allows us to think and reason and ponder and muse all on our own. What works as grace for me, might be law to you. Does it make one way or another the correct way?

Let me put it this way: Jesus said he was the way, the truth, the life and that anyone who comes to the Father must come through him.

We've spent 2,000 years arguing and debating just what he meant by that. He could have put the footnote on it himself; he could have told us clearly what that means. He did not. Why? Why? Why would he not? I believe it is so we could continue to talk to one another about him. You say, well that's nonsense and I must be wrong.

See.

Mob rule vs. majority rule

2011-11-14T09:35:00.000-06:00

Mob rule is a terrible thing, isn't it? Well, isn't it? And isn't there a real, substantial difference in mob rule and majority rule? And isn't there a clear, substantial point of this in scripture?

My answers (opinion sign lit) would be yes, yes, yes, amazingly yes.

The Bible talks of such incidents (actually it speaks of them often, but let's center on this one). In the book of the Acts of the Apostles, the apostle Paul goes to Jerusalem and while there, he attends a service at the Temple (as all Jews would do).

We'll let Luke, the book's writer, describe the action from there: "²⁷ When the seven days were nearly over, some Jews from the province of Asia saw Paul at the temple. They stirred up the whole crowd and seized him, ²⁸ shouting, “Fellow Israelites, help us! This is the man who teaches everyone everywhere against our people and our law and this place. And besides, he has brought Greeks into the temple and defiled this holy place.” ²⁹ (They had previously seen Trophimus the Ephesian in the city with Paul and assumed that Paul had brought him into the temple.) ³⁰ The whole city was aroused, and the people came running from all directions. Seizing Paul, they dragged him from the temple, and immediately the gates were shut. ³¹ While they were trying to kill him, news reached the commander of the Roman troops that the whole city of Jerusalem was in an uproar. ³² He at once took some officers and soldiers and ran down to the crowd. When the rioters saw the commander and his soldiers, they stopped beating Paul."

The key sentence, I think, is the whole city was aroused.

It wasn't unusual, I'm afraid, for Paul to be beaten. Seemed to happen all the time. Paul wasn't a shrinking violet. He believed with all his heart, mind, soul and strength that Jesus was the embodyment of the Messiah promised in the Old Testament. He didn't mind saying that, no matter the circumstances. Ironcially, this beating was incorrect. The mob was angry because it thought Paul had brought a gentile into the Temple (the ultimate no-no). He had not.

This year has been the year of mob rule across the planet. Mobs have fought and won rights of sorts.The so-called Arab Spring was part of that.

This year in various cities across this country, mobs of mostly young, mostly incoherent, often noisy and sometimes violent demonstrators are making themselves a major nuisance. Meanwhile, many in the media are practically gushing over these "protesters," and giving them the free publicity they crave for themselves and their cause -- whatever that is, beyond venting their emotions on television. This has happened in the "Occupy" movement and in protests in Wisconsin. In Wisconsin, University of Wisconsin law professor Ann Althouse viewed the events in the Capitol as a near-total breakdown of law and order. "How do you like this new democracy, that has a mob storming the Capitol and, with the aid of the minority party, blocking the access of the majority party into their offices and into the legislative chamber?" Professor Althouse wrote on her blog. "It looks more like anarchy to me."
The biggest thing I've noticed about mobs and what happens when they rule is that often they are, for lack of a better word, wrong. It's more of a get a bunch of people together and let's make a mess.

In the Bible, the mob is almost always wrong. Paul didn't violate the Temple law. But they beat him anyway. Jesus did nothing wrong, nothing, and the crowd shouted "crucify him." Stephen? Nothing wrong; beaten to death. The list could go on and n and on.

Some actually say that the difference in mob rule and majority rule is when God is removed from the equation. Actually, that sounds about right.

It won't make sense, but that's God

2011-11-12T08:31:00.000-06:00

Finishing my thoughts in Ecclesiastes ..

Solomon writes (in the Good News Bible edition), "I saw all this when I thought about the things that are done in this world, a world where some people have power and others have to suffer under them. Yes, I have seen the wicked buried and in their graves, but on the way back from the cemetery people praise them in the very city where they did their evil. It is useless."

In other words, stuff happens. We live in a world where the 99 percent often are dealt evil by the 1 percent. It just is what it is. Stuff happens. Inequality happens. Bad things happen, even to good people, maybe especially to good people, maybe the bad things happen to especially good people and the bad things are perpetrated by the bad people. Stuff just happens, and it has been happening since, well, before Solomon's time. It just happens and happens and happens, and it seems prayer doesn't stop it from happening no matter how often we pray or how long we pray or even how sincerely we pray. Stuff just happens.

Solomon, supposedly the wisest man to ever walk the planet, spent a great deal of time exploring what it means, what all of this means. He pondered and mused about this entity we call life, about how we're mended and we're torn, about how it's okay to be lonely as long as we're free, about the relationship between God and man.

This is what he discovered after much, uh, soul searching.

"¹⁵ So, I'm all for just going ahead and having a good time—the best possible. The only earthly good men and women can look forward to is to eat and drink well and have a good time—compensation for the struggle for survival these few years God gives us on earth. ^16-17 When I determined to load up on wisdom and examine everything taking place on earth, I realized that if you keep your eyes open day and night without even blinking, you'll still never figure out the meaning of what God is doing on this earth. Search as hard as you like, you're not going to make sense of it. No matter how smart you are, you won't get to the bottom of it."

Well. That's disappointing at best, maddening at worst. We can ponder it all, load up on wisdom and shine the spotlight on all of it and the best we can come up with is it makes no sense at all.

Frankly, I can't accept that. Sure, stuff happens. But the love of God has to have meaning. Doesn't it? Surely?

Rich Mullins, a singer/songwriter who made a huge difference in my life, was John the Baptist to my, uh, well, to my Jesus I guess. He was the one whose words stung and whose words lifted and whose words made the kind of difference I hope my words do for someone, somewhere. He was a great, great man. Then one Saturday night coming from a gig in somewhere Illinois or somewhere Idaho or somewhere somewhere, he was in an automobile accident and he died.

Great man. Great words. Gone.
Me? I could be gone and it make no difference to anyone who isn't related.

I still don't understand how God thinks that is a good swap. Why not him instead of me? I've asked that question hundreds of times. Makes no sense no matter how I look at it.

Stuff happens, though, and I guess I'll get it one day. Maybe. Or maybe not.

Does my getting it mean that the answer will be easier to get? Maybe. Or maybe not. But what I believe is that God gets to decide those things, not I. What is clear is that our getting it is not the prerequisite for life or for living or even for equality. Get it? God is the keeper of wisdom and he lets it out in minuscule bits and tiny pieces, and that's going to be the way it is for eternity.

Would I do it differently? Youbetcha. But that's just the way it is. Stuff happens. Godly stuff. Does it always make sense? Nope. Seldom does. But that's sort of the way you distinguish Godly stuff from our stuff. Don't let it give you a migraine, take a bit of a Godly pill and call him in the morning.

Life in a nutty shell

2011-11-11T11:27:00.001-06:00

Ecclesiastes 7: 6, "When a fool laughs, it is like thorns crackling in a fire. It doesn't mean a thing."

Pondering this might take me the rest of my life, me being a fool and all, but on a cool November morning while I sat in front of a computer attempting to do what comes easy most days but was more like a challenge this morning, I attempted to get deep, to ponder the laughter of fools.

I read this story on the esteemed Internet in answer to the search, "When a fool laughs." An out-of-towner drove his car into a ditch in a desolated area. Luckily, a local farmer came to help with his big strong horse named Buddy. He hitched Buddy up to the car and yelled, “Pull, Nellie, pull!” Buddy didn’t move. Then the farmer hollered, “Pull, Buster, pull!” Buddy didn’t respond. Once more the farmer commanded, “Pull, Coco, pull!” Nothing. Then the farmer nonchalantly said, “Pull, Buddy, pull!” And the horse easily dragged the car out of the ditch. The motorist was most appreciative and very curious. He asked the farmer why he called his horse by the wrong name three times. “Well… Buddy is blind and if he thought he was the only one pulling, he wouldn’t even try!”

Sometimes even the deepest of thinkers need a moment of laughter. Sometimes even those who have become the designated writer for the party, still need to be able to smile at the most unfunny of things.

Maybe we're blinded by life in the ditch in general, and we refuse to be the only one who continues to pull. Sometimes we need something more, something new, something different to get us out of the ditch.

Have you ever noticed that every life needs a little umph, a little goosey, a little something we didn't even know we needed, wanted or even that it existed. Sometimes even a fool needs to laugh.

Really. It'a like...

2) thorns crackling in a fire.

But even those foolish laughs are pretty meaningless. Really. The more fooish the laugh, the less sustaining, I muse. Maybe, however, that's the point.

They don't stay with us. Somehow pondering all of this has taken me to 11:20 in the morning. Trimming and editing and throwing away bad stuff in order to get a nutshell of relatively good stuff has taken all morning. It takes the same amount of time to write the meaningless as it does the meaningful, the same time to attempt the funny as it does to attempt to explain grief.
Ever thrown a pine cone into a camp fire? I have. the point is that it makes a quick fire, a little spotlight fire, a moment of fresh fire but ultimately it doesn't give you much fire, much heat, much of anything really. It's a moment of freshness, but then it's gone and you won't remember the moment much past its going. Sure, we all need those moments, those lifting, useless, funny moments. But sometimes we need a little more. We need extra cream in our coffee, extra cheese on our pizza, extra sugar in our sugarless drink. Sometimes we need to extend our hand in order to get extra, though it doesn't ....

3) mean a thing.

I'm write about things that matter a great, great deal most of the time. Salvation and grace and the mercy of a God who loves us enough to send His Son dominates my time. I'm just saying....

Red Smith, a noted sports writer from a previous century, once wrote in answer to a question about writing..."You don't want to be lousy during the World Series. If you've got to be lousy, let it be June. And believe me, I was very lousy yesterday. I had nothing to say, and, by God, I said it."

But today, today this is what this blog has been about. I have nothing to say, and by God's help, I'm saying it.

Ultimately none of this matters a whole lot. Solomon asks the question. "Think about what what God has done. How can anyone straighten out what God has made crooked?"

The answer, of course, is no one. But Solomon goes on to write, "My life has been useless, but in it I have seen everything. Some good people may die while others live on, even though they re evil. so don't be too good or too wise -- why kill yourself? Avoid both extremes. If you have reverence for God, you will be a successful person anyway....

Solomon builds to a magnificent close: "I used my wisdom to test all of this. I was determined to be wise, but it was beyond me. How can anyone discover what life means. ... This is I have learned (he states after much thought and living through those thoughts): God has made us plain and simple, but we have made ourselves very complicated."

Someone once wrote, Proofread carefully to see if you any words out."

Life is about looking back, looking less than deeply, about making wise choices with less than wise capability, making sure you don't any of the words out.

That's life, in a nutty shell.

Get wisdom and insight ...

2011-11-10T08:02:00.000-06:00

In the fourth chapter of Proverbs, we read this: "My children, listen to what your father teaches you. Pay attention and you will have understanding. What I am teaching you is good, so remember it all. When I was only a little boy, my parents' only son, my father would teach me. He would say, "Remember what I say and never forget it. Do as I tell you, and you will live. Get wisdom and insight! Do not forget or ignore what I say. do no abandon wisdom, and she will protect you; love her, and she will keep you safe."

Wisdom is a vital portion of our walk. She walks daily with us, even as peanut butter walks alongside a generous helping of jelly with us.Wisdom is a companion, a daily part of our trusting walk with God himself. Heck, don't ask me, ask Wisdom herself, and you will see that Wisdom has grand plans. Watch and see. With God Himself, Wisdom is the teacher

The scriptures themselves teach us: "Do as I tell you," the scriptures read. The scriptures are companions that make the journey with us. We are to pack them, prod them, pull and push them. Our father is to teach us using them. With the scriptures themselves as guide and as master, we will go forward. That's who and what wisdom is ...

Fruit baskets anyone?

2011-11-09T08:23:00.000-06:00

John Wesley often taught, preached, about Galatians 5: 22-23. He thought it gave (and it does) a pretty darn good look at what it means to have a life filled with and run by the third person of the
Trinity, the Holy Spirit. The passage makes it fairly clear that you know an apple tree by its fruit, an orange tree by its fruit, a lemon ... well, you get the idea.
The scripture (from the Living Bible today) says, "But the Spirit produces love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, humility, and self-control. There is no law against such things as these."

There. Two sentences, two verses, one life, exceedingly well-lived.

Wesley called these things "emotions or tempers or affections." They embody Christianity. They are what one "receives" when one is led by the Holy Spirit. If one lives with the Spirit as a guide, one lives a visibly different life.

Wesley taught that "when people give their time to re-roof a grumpy neighbor's house in the sweltering summer heat, chances were that they were not filled with feelings of love as they fought dehydration and fatigue." Everyone would agree, though, they were filled the Spirit, that they were loving this neighbor. The fruits are best demonstrated in the "quality" of our relationships, not how often we are consciously aware of feeling them.

Love your neighbor as yourself and live by the Spirit. If one is able to do that, to any small degree, one is living a vastly different life. Today let us pray that we will be changed not by our own efforts, as positive and sure they might be, but by His Spirit, which we grasp as our hope. Bear fruit ... my friends. Bear fruit.

Save me a place

2011-11-08T08:59:00.000-06:00

It appears today will be a reflective sports day. Sorry. It happens sometimes. You can take the man out of sports, but it's very hard to take the sports out of the man. Or something to that effect.

Case 1: Time and again, questions about an alleged cover-up of a sex abuse scandal at Penn State, circled back to one name: Joe Paterno. Major college football's oldest, winningest and perhaps most revered coach, was engulfed Monday in a growing furor involving former defensive coordinator and one-time heir apparent Jerry Sandusky, who was indicted on charges of sexually abusing eight boys over 15 years. The Pennsylvania state police commissioner said Paterno fulfilled his legal requirement when he relayed to university administrators that a graduate assistant had seen Sandusky attacking a young boy in the team's locker room shower in 2002. But the commissioner also questioned whether Paterno had a moral responsibility to do more. On the Happy Valley campus and in the surrounding town of State College, some were even asking whether the 84-year-old coach should step down after 46 seasons on the sidelines.

The answer is YES. There. Said it. Meant it. Joe Paterno should step down as head coach at Penn State. Why? Because, if I understood what I've read correctly, he knew enough to at least, at the very least, help cops begin an investigation into his assistant that would have saved at least one young man from being assaulted by this worthless sexual predator. How anyone could even wonder whether Paterno had that moral responsibility is beyond me. Of course he did. What, he forgot about it? What, he thought it was a dream of some kind? What, he imagined it? Sorry, folks. He should have reported it, maybe even helped by going undercover as it were. But to say essentially nothing? I don't care if the then assistant was, it seems, one of Paterno's best friends. He was, is, a sexual predator. Mary has made me watch too many of those SVU programs not to get the absolutely heinousness of the crime and their thinking patterns. Fire them. Fire them all.

Case 2: The only signature I've ever asked for was Muhammad Ali's. But I admired Joe Frazier far more than I did Ali. I admire, and still admire, determination, guts, effort, overcoming lack of talent. Joe Frazier did all that, was all that. Muhammad Ali drew the crowds, charmed the media and stole the show. But while Ali is deservedly remembered as “The Greatest,” it was Joe Frazier who defined what being a fighter was truly about.Frazier, who died Monday in his Philadelphia home after a fight with liver cancer, is inextricably linked in boxing history with Ali. They competed in two of the most sensational bouts of all-time and defined an era with their fearsome rivalry. Ali had nearly all of the physical advantages, but in the fight that remains the most significant in the sport’s history, it was Frazier who threw perhaps the perfect left hook to knock down Ali in the 15th round, punctuating a victory on March 8, 1971, in what will forever be remembered as “The Fight of the Century.” Down goes Frazier was a sentence that entered the sports lexicon with Howard Cosell doing the honors.

Case 3: A fired government worker with a protest sign dangled for hours from New York's Tappan Zee Bridge on Monday, backing up traffic for miles before dropping into the Hudson River and being hauled aboard a police boat. Michael Davitt, 54, of Garnerville, N.Y., had been angry about being dismissed in 2008 from his counseling job with the Rockland County mental health department and was well known to law enforcement, county Sheriff James Kralik said. On Monday morning, Davitt drove a van onto the bridge, lowered a rope ladder that was anchored to the van and climbed down, then sat in a harness for more than three hours about 65 feet above the river.

Today has all the markings of a beautiful start to a possibly beautiful day. It's warmish. It's cloudy but heading toward skies that are beautiful. It's humid, but today promises so much more. The weather promises to be good, much like Michael Davitt promises to be, much like Frazier promised to stop hitting Ali and much like Paterno promises he knew little about what was going on.

The problem with all that is promises that aren't kept are not truth. They are merely broken promises. Many of us have had to deal with broken promises all our lives. You know that those things amount to, don't you?

On the other hand, God's promises never fail, are never broken, always remain true. The Bible puts it this way In the 23rd chapter of Joshua's wonderful work: "¹⁴Now I am about to go the way of all the earth. You know with all your heart and soul that not one of all the good promises the LORD your God gave you has failed. Every promise has been fulfilled; not one has failed."

Not one. Not a single one. So, while Frazier was dying, while Davitt was coming up with still another wacky plan, while Penn State's sex brokers were getting together with one more plan to keep things quiet, God's promises did the impossible one more time. Those promises met the test and passed. Not one has failed. Every promise has been fulfilled.

God it?

2011-11-07T09:08:00.000-06:00

The most decisive theological issue in scripture is this: Will God's means of salvation (Christ, the one named Jesus) fail to save God's covenant people (Israel)? If so (the failure of Jesus to do so), does this expose "injustice on God's part (Romans 9:14...What then are we to say? Is there injustice on God's part? BY NO MEANS.")

We get very deep in theological realms when we explore the fact that though the Israelites still are the covenantal people of God -- by our own belief system (what we call Christianity) -- they have missed the Christ if they do not believe in Jesus as Lord and Savior. Present Jewish disbelief in Jesus as the Christ requires some other explanation other than Jesus is not the Christ.

Paul argues in his letter to the "church" in Rome, there is irony in the fact that Gentiles who didn't strive for righteousness have attained it through faith while Israelites who did strive for righteousness through the law did not succeed in attaining that way,

Is that system then unjust? Unfair? Without mercy? I don't know. I do know that it indeed is ironic. Think of it this way: Jews who believe that they can find favor with God by doing the law, faithfully doing the law on a daily basis so that they might be DECLARED righteous must at some point or other think that God is an uncaring being who gives them more than enough things to do to be DECLARED righteous. Then when they can't do all those things perfectly each and every cotton-picking day (and they can't, they simply can't), they are unrighteous just like the ones who never try. Some system, huh?

But how about this system? They try to do all those things that will declare them to be righteous, knowing they can't but they try anyway. Then when they inevitably fail (big failure or small doesn't matter) they turn to the one whom God sent to be the instrument of righteousness. Jesus was sent to be the knife that spreads the peanut butter. We couldn't by ourselves. No one wants to spread the peanut butter, er righteousness, without the proper equipment (a knife, er, Jesus.)

God it?
I mean, got it?

What sort of system is it when mere disbelief is the method for being declared unrighteous when God knows himself that one can never do everything perfectly? It is an, by definition, unfit system, a merciless system, a system that is designed from the beginning to be declared.

Try this...a perfect God designs a system that only He can meet the requirements for. Therefore, only He can do it. He sends Himself to meet the requirements, and He does ... FOR US. However, the only way we can pay for this intervention by God, is death of the one we borrowed from, God. We can, then, only meet the requirements by paying God for his intervention, but we can't pay Him because, well, He's dead. It would take a resurrection for that to happen. He does that, resurrection I mean, so that we can pay Him for His work. He, back alive, is paid for His work on behalf of us, and all of us go along our merry ways.

In shorthand, we fail in a system designed to get us to fail. We borrow against an account designed to entice us to be unable to pay back for our mistakes. Mistake-filled, penniless, we are allowed to pay back our borrowed funds. We bring our accounts up-to-date and walk away debt-free. "We" are the gentile believers. The Jewish believers still are in debt, unable to free themselves.

Whew. At least it was easy to understand. You God it now?

Joy produced by the actions of others ...

2011-11-05T08:46:00.000-05:00

The sun crept through the limbs of the Blond trees this morning, a lovely crisp November morning. A day before we fall back in time, the morning prepared us for those inevitable time-trotting minutes.

In our neck of the woods, a strange phrase at best, spotlights are pointed toward one thing and one thing only (though I disagree with that notion profoundly). In our neck of the woods, Alabama-LSU is the thing. Anything else gets short-changed. Even the important New Orleans Saints-Tampa Bay Bucs Sunday game shrinks by comparison.

Alabama-LSU is the game of the century I read. It is the brawl for it all, I read. It is Bamagaddeon. It is all these things and much, much more. I, having gone to Mississippi State, don't quite care as much as do these purple and gold and crimson and white folks, but I, too, will be star gazing tonight. But I understand the game's importance nonetheless.

It is interesting to me that games of this importance shrink or grow church attendance. I wonder what Ahhhh. Games of this importance have impact on how the congregation will feel tomorrow morning. But they shouldn't. I used to work with a fellow who said that we should not live our lives through the lives of others, or we should not allow our own joy to be produced by the actions of others.

I believe that is spot on. It is fabulously important, too. If we allowed joy to be produced by the actions of others, then we stand to allow depression to be produced by the actions of others as well. We stand to allow anxiety, happiness, worry, hilarity and so forth. The better option is to allow our own joy and our own woes to be produced by our own actions and our own actions alone.

Watching Alabama running back Trent Richardson, a fabulous player, do his own thing is wonderful. But it is what it is. We should not take that for more than it is. Were we able to run the football as Richardson does, that would produce a great amount of joy, granted. But that should not give us more joy than raking leaves or weed-eating the yard of a poor person who has no weed-eater or rake.

Paul wrote, "¹⁹For what is our hope, our joy, or the crown in which we will glory in the presence of our Lord Jesus when he comes? Is it not you? ²⁰ Indeed, you are our glory and joy."

Building up

2011-11-04T08:47:00.000-05:00

Oh, to have routine broken. It's terrible. It's horrifying. It's, uh, broken.

This morning I headed to the PC to get That's Life in the bank. I write in the mornings because I run out of living gas soon afterwards. But to my shock, there was no way to get onto the Internet. It didn't work. It gave me a stop sign. It wouldn't allow me to get to my blog site, and since I'm old and my memory has been slowly but surely going away, I couldn't remember the site name so that even if I drove to the office and signed on there, I couldn't get to the blog to do my thing.

Oh, to have routine broken and the horrifying become reality.

Then I rebooted everything and green lights appeared and here we are. We're rebooted. We've been given new bodies of work. We're reborn, as it were.

I was reading chapter 14 of 1 Corinthians when the horrifying appeared. I was pondering the fifth verse of the chapter, a kind of ranking of spiritual gifts. Paul writes, "Now I would like all of you to speak in tongues, but even more to prophesy. One who prophesies is greater than one who speaks in tongues, unless someone interprets, so that the church may be built up."

What do you think "building up" of the church means? Maybe, just maybe the first verse of this chapter lets us in on some of the answers. "Pursue love and strive for the spiritual gifts, and especially that you may prophesy."

This pursuit of spiritual gifts is something I think we've lost effort on. We need to re-start that effort. If we were able to gain or loosen what we already have of spiritual gifts, perhaps we could indeed build up the church.

The formula is this: God gives spiritual gifts to everyone, according to scripture. Those gifts help us to build up the church.

Those gifts include tongues, encouraging, consoling, prophesying (preaching). Those gifts still exist today.

The idea is this...take what God has given and produce spiritual blessings from the spiritual gifts. Build up. Encourage. Pray for. Love on. Do what God has told us to do.

Even the terrifying becomes mundane when those gifts are used properly.

Let's start today.

What's this Gospel?

2011-11-03T08:54:00.000-05:00

My question this morning is a simple one. Do you get "it?"

"It" is a hard to grasp topic. "It is the Gospel."

One can disagree and say that the Gospel is easy. Some would say it is Jesus' story, yet Jesus sent the 12 out to "preach the Gospel" before the crucifixion. Some would say it is the crucifixion and the subsequent resurrection and even ask why you would ever think this is difficult in the first place.

"I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. Even now you are still not ready." The Apostle Paul from his letter to the church in Corinth.

Does that describe your walk with God? Still, after 16 years, it does mine at times. There are times when I simply don't get it, don't want to get it, can't get it. As Luke wrote about the disciples once, "...it was hidden from their eyes."

So, what's the Gospel? What's the good news? What are you teaching, preaching, reading, praying about?

As a lark, I looked up what is said on the Internet. This comes from the Alleulia Church of God in Cleveland, Tenn. It of course is the "true Gospel."

"Churches claim to preach the true gospel. But, most of them do not even know what the true gospel is. We think that the true gospel is that we go to heaven because of the death of Jesus on the cross. The true gospel is considered the good news. We think that Jesus Christ died in our place so that we do not have to die an eternal death. So it is good news, which is gospel. But, the Bible says that Jesus Christ has preached the gospel. Then, the true gospel must come from the messages he has preached. Jesus Christ never preached his death on the cross as the gospel even though he mentioned the fact privately to his disciples that he will die on the cross and he will be raised in three days. Jesus Christ preached his gospel and that is the true gospel. "Matt 4:23 And Jesus went about all Galilee … preaching the gospel of the kingdom…" His gospel must be about the kingdom of God. "

Whew. That's the true gospel, the Website claims.

But, on the Website www.truegospelofjesuschris.org it seems you can read, "The "Good News" of the Bible proclaims that the Cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ has benefited all people, not just some. The Scriptures teach that the reason God sent His Son into this world was to live a sinless life, die on the Cross and be raised from the dead so that you can have new life in Christ Jesus."

So, the Gospel is about the sinless life, death on a cross and the subsequent resurrection but not about his teaching? Glad we have that understanding.

This I know: Jesus taught much about what the kingdom of God or kingdom of heaven was about. Certainly that is good news, hence the Gospel. Part of that teaching is that those who long to live in that kingdom will be rejected and perhaps even killed. One special man, Jesus of Nazareth, would die as part of that rejection but he would return in three days. Jesus taught that himself to his disciples. That was especially good news, one would think.

Now, did Jesus teach all the aspects of the Gospel that a reasoned theologian named Paul would? Not exactly. He left some of that to us. That's good news, too.

So, are you ready for the "Gospel?" The meat as opposed to the milk? Do you actually know what you're teaching, preaching, reading, thinking?

Maybe you should look it up so you can official say you have got "it."

With whom He is pleased

2011-11-02T08:33:00.001-05:00

It is officially adoption awareness month, or something akin to that. I'm not sure that has been celebrated before, but darn if I don't think it's a wonderful idea.

I am adopted, I have adopted and I have helped others adopt. I can think, truly think, of no endeavor that is more worthy of both praise and wonderment than when someone adopts a child. It should be the answer to those issues of abortion that amazingly keep springing up.

We should be, in my sometimes meaningless opinion, adopting children and pets at a much higher rate than we currently are. I do not equate the two, by they way, other than the fact that both are helpless and should be loved.

It's a funny thing. I used to be asked about adoption a lot more than I am now. When I was growing up, it was fairly common to ask how I felt about adoption, about being adopted. At the time, I didn't, feel that is. It just was what it was.

As an adult, I've thought long and hard about it, as I do most things. I've come to a conclusion, and I have never written about this, that it bothers me. I should be more grateful in all things than I am. Ingratitude seems to grow like a cancer in me sometimes. My adopted parents wanted a child, wanted me. I get that, and I am grateful. But there is a part of me that still insists that someone, some unknown persons, did not want me. That at one part I was, for lack of a better term, completely unwanted. That there is someone out there in this universe, if they're still alive, that chose to give me up. No discussion. No search for the lost child. None of that that I'm aware of. To this day, I've come to understand, that has driven me to either prove myself to some great unknown or to get some sort of great feedback from someone I'll never see.

I've never struggled to see all these persons I was "kin" to but wasn't as my true relatives. I've never struggled to see my upbringing as my own. None of that. I've simply wondered more and more about who "they" were, and I've thought a lot about what circumstances in the early 1950s (am I really, truly that old?) could lead to my, uh, being given up on before I ever had a chance to show my worth.

That's what makes scripture like these so important to "adoptees" I believe.

In Isaiah, "Before I was born the LORD called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name."

In Isaiah, "I have engraved your name on the palm of my hands..."

In John's Gospel: "No, the Father himself loves you because you have loved me ..."

Even in Romans: "For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In other words, my worth must not, should not, be determined by whether a human being, any human being, cares for me or not. God did when I was in the womb of someone I'll never meet, and He does to this day. It is I who struggled, I who falter, I who wonder, I who doubt. Not Him.

Adoptees should understand that though they were released to be loved by someone other than birth parents, it is the beginning of their lives not the end of something else. Adoptees should recognize that in a strange sort of way, even Jesus was given up for, uh, adoption, open adoption at that. He always knew, it seems, who his heavenly father was who "gave" him to Joseph for safe-keeping. He watched over him, cared for him and twice said "This is my son, with whom I am well-pleased."

Truthfully, that is all I ever wanted, yet I will never get that. Seems to me that records should be open when you're past, uh, half a century or so in age.

What could I do?

2011-11-01T08:43:00.000-05:00

Last night was Halloween, as many might have noted. I went to the West Bank of New Orleans, a cultural difference with my current home on the Northshore of New Orleans that only persons of residence in the two spots might understand.

We went to see the , or I guess four since Mia is now officially too old to do such things it seems, of the grand kids go out in a desperate attempt to procure candy and treats of all kinds from those who would give them.

We went to a neighborhood that is drastically into the, uh, spirit or spirits as the case might be. Fabulous homes decked in homage to the dead was this neighborhood, which somehow has enough clout or money that not only did two cops fly through the area on those standup scooters that would work so well my country setting that I immediately wished I had one, but they had a cop looking at tickets to get into the area. Tickets for a neighborhood for folks to get in.

I knew I was in a different land of cotton when the neighbors were walking around carrying red wine. At least I think it was red wine. Maybe they made all their money over a long, long period of time and the "red wine" was more like, uh, blood? Just saying.

There was a time when Halloween was my favorite holiday, just as there was a time when I would have been the one drinking, uh, something.

But the still relatively new me, after all these many years passed, could see but one thing last night as we toured the area. If these folks would take the money they had spent on dressing up their neighborhood, perhaps there could be one or two less homeless persons in New Orleans on this cool October night. Perhaps if they didn't spend quite so much on their meaningless dressing up and dressing down, perhaps some child somewhere in the world on that cool October night might have been fed. Just saying...

Now, I know in some ways that's apples and oranges, and you can't make someone give up their pay and I'm judging and all that stuff.

But the still relatively new me thought the whole time, what could I do with this money? What could I make, change, recreate? What resources could I turn this into?

Maybe the still relatively new me is still too much like the seemingly old me...

A Halloween thought

2011-10-31T14:17:00.000-05:00

Couldn't help but pass this along, from a web-site called Ain't It Cool News (it's too funny) in reference to The Walking Dead television show.

"Where did all these ambulatory corpses come from?
"Only about 6,630 Americans die each day. How did a handful of decaying corpses awaiting burial (most derived, no doubt, from the very, very elderly) manage to outwit and overwhelm more than 70 million U.S. gun owners, more than 37 million U.S. golf club owners, the 48 million U.S. fireplace poker owners, more than 94 million baseball bat owners, more than 12 million pool cue owners, more than 33 million croquet mallet owners, more than 270 million car owners, more than 25,000 municipal and country police forces, more than 450,000 U.S. national guardsmen, and more than 565,000 U.S. army reservists, to say nothing of more than 560,000 active U.S. army personnel, more than 200,000 heavily armed and armored U.S. Marines, SEAL Teams one through five, 3.2 million South Korean reservists, the Chinese, Indian and Pakistani armies, and the Taliban?
"The only thing the zombies have going for them, really, is their inexplicably vast numbers. They are unarmed and unarmored, slower moving than most everything else in the woods, and not a whole lot smarter than raccoons. They are poorly organized, to say the least, and cannot utilize TV stations or smartphones or update a Facebook page with news of enemy movements."

I would add that scripture clearly tells us two things:
1. We die and await resurrection not by a virus but by our Lord.
2. IT'S A TV SHOW....

Actually , I added that last one.

Tests? What tests?

2011-10-31T07:58:00.000-05:00

So here we go, more research. I do this for you, not for myself.

A study published online Oct. 24 in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology says that thinking about God and religion might turn you into a slacker.

"More than 90 percent of people in the world agree that God or a similar spiritual power exists or may exist,"study researcher Kristin Laurin of the University of Waterloo in Canada, said in a statement. "This is the first empirical evidence that simple reminders of God can diminish some types of self-regulation, such as pursuing one's goals, yet can improve others, such as resisting temptation."

In other words (if I'm reading this right), if you're thinking about God, you are more likely not to set and achieve goals, unless of course your goal is to get closer to God. (I added that)

In what I must say is awfully hard to believe results, a Gallup poll in May found that more than nine out of 10 Americans believe in God.

In what I must say is not that hard to believe results, these numbers drop for groups of younger Americans, liberals, those living in the Eastern United States, those with postgraduate educations and political independents. However, belief in God is nearly universal among Republicans and conservatives and, to a slightly lesser degree, in the South.

In the new study, the researchers primed more than 350 engineering students with the idea of God or faith, for example, by having participants write a sentence using a list of words with spiritual connotations. Students then completed skill tests in which they had to make as many words as possible from a group of letters. When prompted with religious imagery or language beforehand, the students came up with fewer words, regardless of their religious background, than those who hadn't been primed with such imagery.

There you have it. Proof positive. Of course, religions writers probably wouldn't be asked to take that same skill test, one wouldn't imagine.

Again, I'm not the one who would be given this test: a second study tempted participants with cookies after they had read one of two passages — one about God and the other on a non-religious topic. Participants who read the God passage not only reported a greater willingness to resist temptation, but also were less likely to help themselves to the cookies.

What are we to make of all this? That someone had way too much time on their hands. Oh, and I believe that those with goals can best meet them with the omnipotent God as their study partner. And I like cookies a whole lot.