“They broke it,” my wife said. “Are you serious?” I said, looking at the broken teeter-totter plank. She’s great with unruly children. But even she seemed slightly frazzled by the six children she had rounded up for a church party.
Despite all the disciplining challenges, we understood clearly why we had brought the children. Our desire is that they will become our spiritual children by influencing them to become followers of Jesus. And then someday, the words of the Apostle John could become ours: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.”
A featured event of the evening was the bashing of a piñata. We were watching closely.
When the busting blow burst the piñata, it became a grab-shove moment. Even the church kids turned unruly. Our most challenging, Daniel, was in the middle of the fray. He’s a 190 pound twelve-year old hulk.
He quickly scooped up half a bag of candy. Then he guarded another sizable pile with his body like a hockey goalie sprawling on an inches-from-the-net puck.
To a girl, who looked tiny compared to Daniel, he said, “Here, this is for you.” A couple of church kids lunged once more as he fended them off. He then helped fill her still empty bag with candy from the guarded pile.
I’ll never know what teeter-tottered Daniel’s behavior from being the teeter-totter destroyer to being the role model for piñata etiquette.
Believe me, after that he didn’t suddenly turn saintly. But for us, it was a no-greater-joy moment.
Where will these children’s lives teeter-totter to? That’s unanswerable. But all of us are on one side or the other as we influence children in the teeter-totter between good and evil. Which side are you on?
12/31/05
12/24/05
WHO CARES IF HE DROWNS?
“Hey Rick, this is Peter,” the answering machine message said. “I just thought you would like to know that one of your sheep is drowning across the street.”
His message needed no further explanation. Your sheep—Anthony, a friend who I have attempted to guide away from alcohol’s destructive grip. Across the street—a bar. Drowning—intoxicated. Anthony and I had spoke less than four hours before, arranging a ride for him to church the next day.
I loathe alcohol.
Is all drinking of alcohol wrong—a sin? Drinking is present occasionally in the Bible in the it’s-O.K. category. More pronounced though, are the many stern biblical warnings and commands in the be-not-drunk category.
For me, I don’t drink.
I don’t drink because I constantly see it’s destruction in individuals, families, and our communities. I refuse to partner with that destruction.
Sure, I drove by that billboard. Wow, those women with the beer in their hands, aren’t they pretty? And those big smiles, they must be very happy. I saw that sign on the beer truck. “CRISP, CLEAN, REFRESHING.”
Anthony didn’t attend church. But his answering machine message said: “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to church; I was sick. Call me.” Hmm, the billboard and the sign-on-the-truck promises didn’t work—no refreshing smile for Anthony.
Also, I don’t drink because its seduction is not beyond grabbing me.
And does anyone want their life to align with this Bible verse? “Drunkenness, carousing, and the like; I warn you, just as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.”
Listen, I’m not telling you not to drink. But could you help me gather a few sheep who might be drowning? And make sure you inherit the kingdom of God.
His message needed no further explanation. Your sheep—Anthony, a friend who I have attempted to guide away from alcohol’s destructive grip. Across the street—a bar. Drowning—intoxicated. Anthony and I had spoke less than four hours before, arranging a ride for him to church the next day.
I loathe alcohol.
Is all drinking of alcohol wrong—a sin? Drinking is present occasionally in the Bible in the it’s-O.K. category. More pronounced though, are the many stern biblical warnings and commands in the be-not-drunk category.
For me, I don’t drink.
I don’t drink because I constantly see it’s destruction in individuals, families, and our communities. I refuse to partner with that destruction.
Sure, I drove by that billboard. Wow, those women with the beer in their hands, aren’t they pretty? And those big smiles, they must be very happy. I saw that sign on the beer truck. “CRISP, CLEAN, REFRESHING.”
Anthony didn’t attend church. But his answering machine message said: “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to church; I was sick. Call me.” Hmm, the billboard and the sign-on-the-truck promises didn’t work—no refreshing smile for Anthony.
Also, I don’t drink because its seduction is not beyond grabbing me.
And does anyone want their life to align with this Bible verse? “Drunkenness, carousing, and the like; I warn you, just as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.”
Listen, I’m not telling you not to drink. But could you help me gather a few sheep who might be drowning? And make sure you inherit the kingdom of God.
12/17/05
THE LOVE LETTER
“I really need you to do me a favor,” John said. “What do you want?” I responded to my good friend.
John hesitated for a moment; I prodded. His favor? Drive him to deliver a five-page hand written love letter. He told me his love-grown-cold woe between himself and his girlfriend Ashley. He said, “If it’s over I’m going out with a bang.” I agreed; let’s do it.
When I arrived to pick him up, John said, “I feel like a moron.” Uncharacteristically nervous and impulsive, he was apologizing, asking what to do, and thanking me in rapid succession.
What won’t a person go through to restore a love relationship?
Jesus, when He must have felt the same tug, said: “But you walked away from your first love—why? What’s going on with you, anyway?”
With similar thoughts scattering through his head, John bought three roses, then wrapped the love letter onto the stem with green ribbon. After a courage-gathering drive past Ashley’s house, John went up to the door. He shoved the delivery into the hands of an unsuspecting guest blurting, “Give this to Ashley.” John ran and jumped into the van, “Peel out, let’s go!” I laughed, but I didn’t peel out.
John pushed through his emotional obstacles to restore love.
Won’t Jesus do anything to restore a love relationship with one of us? His very nature is revealed in the verse: “God is love.”
As we drove, John started regaining his composure, until I asked, “What if she doesn’t answer.” Practically popping his seat belt loose, he replied, “She better!”
That’s one question we never have to wonder. “What if Jesus doesn’t answer?”
So stop. Don’t let your love with Jesus grow cold. Pray. Your love letter will be instantly delivered to the One who loves you.
12/10/05
IS HELL HOPE?
“I can only hope there are different levels of hell,” Steve said. “I’ve been messing up big time.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. He quoted a destruction-of-evil Bible verse from the Proverbs. Steve listens to the Proverbs on tape every morning; he was sure he was heading to hell.
You know what? Steve has messed up a lot in his life, probably more than most people. But he has a good heart. Just twenty minutes before he condemned himself to hell, he had given me ten bucks so I could pass it on to someone in need. He does this regularly. Steve attends our weekly get together to talk about God—always faithful. He brings his Bible, knows it fairly well and offers solid spiritual comments.
Steve’s a good guy.
“Steve, listen to me,” I said. “The Proverbs aren’t the Gospel.” Yes, they offer enlightening biblical wisdom. Yet, the Proverbs are not Steve’s ultimate stopper for his feared-for destination.
Skewed thinking led Steve to a mathematical formula. Steve’s mess ups minus Steve’s good-guy stuff equal hell’s least painful level.
Not, the Gospel; not the Good News of Jesus.
Jesus revealed the basic Gospel when he said, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.”
We talked about it. Conclusion-- Steve is already a Jesus believing, sin repented, heaven bound soul. Yes, he’s got to work on some things in his life.
So do I. Isn’t that the walking with Jesus way?
After Jesus explained the basic Gospel, He continued: “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.”
Now Steve, that’s real hope.
“What are you talking about?” I said. He quoted a destruction-of-evil Bible verse from the Proverbs. Steve listens to the Proverbs on tape every morning; he was sure he was heading to hell.
You know what? Steve has messed up a lot in his life, probably more than most people. But he has a good heart. Just twenty minutes before he condemned himself to hell, he had given me ten bucks so I could pass it on to someone in need. He does this regularly. Steve attends our weekly get together to talk about God—always faithful. He brings his Bible, knows it fairly well and offers solid spiritual comments.
Steve’s a good guy.
“Steve, listen to me,” I said. “The Proverbs aren’t the Gospel.” Yes, they offer enlightening biblical wisdom. Yet, the Proverbs are not Steve’s ultimate stopper for his feared-for destination.
Skewed thinking led Steve to a mathematical formula. Steve’s mess ups minus Steve’s good-guy stuff equal hell’s least painful level.
Not, the Gospel; not the Good News of Jesus.
Jesus revealed the basic Gospel when he said, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.”
We talked about it. Conclusion-- Steve is already a Jesus believing, sin repented, heaven bound soul. Yes, he’s got to work on some things in his life.
So do I. Isn’t that the walking with Jesus way?
After Jesus explained the basic Gospel, He continued: “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.”
Now Steve, that’s real hope.
12/8/05
12/3/05
I'M A PROFESSIONAL BACKSLIDER
“I’m a professional backslider,” Lynn told Nancy. Even as she joked about her spurtish relationship with Jesus, she seemed interested in the Bible she was leafing through.
Nancy offered a reconnect-with-God solution. She handed her a twice folded sheet of paper imprinted with: “YOU ARE INVITED.” Lynn accepted it without hesitation, indicating she would seriously consider it.
The invitation touted “The Challenge.” Described as: “Once a week we get together to encourage each other along life’s journey. Please join us in experiencing God! Challenge meetings are designed to teach you the time tested wisdom of the Bible. The purpose is to help participants lead meaningful, productive lives.”
Held at a funky, non-religious gathering place called Harmony Garden, is this a backslider’s answer to prayer?
The Bible says: “The person who backslides in his heart will be fully repaid for his ways.”
Happens ever time from what I’ve seen. Have you ever seen a person close to God improve their life after backsliding?
The Bible graphically says: “Better not to have started out on the straight road to God than to start out and then turn back, repudiating the experience and the holy command.
They prove the point of the proverbs, ‘A dog goes back to its own vomit,’ and, ‘A scrubbed-up pig heads for the mud.’”
Lynn never made it to the meeting. Someone commented: “I guess she backslid so far she couldn’t make it.”
Can a person actually backslide past Jesus’ reach? Jesus said, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door I will come
in . . .”
Here’s the picture. Jesus is gently tapping on the door of Lynn’s heart. He won’t force His way in. Yet he patiently waits, anxious to renew the relationship they once had.
11/26/05
EVEN AN ANGEL
The light faded out of the Western sky as I walked past a storefront church housed in an antique-looking theater. He seemed to materialize out of the shadows-- long gray hair, wearing a dirty-pink beach hat and large rimmed glasses.
“Do you know anything about this church?” I said. He huffed, “I don’t believe in church.” Still he was eager to launch into religious talk.
That hooked me; so I visited his apartment near the church occasionally. “What’s new Wayne?” he would greet me. “My name’s Rick.” “Oh.” I kept returning; even though his language was crude as he commented on the wrongs of the planet.
Around my tenth visit he invited me in. “Would you like a cup of coffee Rick?” While drinking microwaved, instant coffee, the usually ornery, Sherm suddenly shifted our conversation. “I’m worried.”
None of the males in his family had lived to his age—sixty-three. “So if you died, what would happen?” He assured me he was squaring away death related legal matters that week.
“No, where would you go?” He motioned his head southward-- his cemetery plot’s location. “That’s where they’ll bury me.”
“No. I’m asking about your eternal destination.”
He responded quickly: “Heaven . . . an angel told me my name’s written in the book of life.” Beyond his supposed angelic encounter at age eighteen, he offered no reason for claiming his ticket to heaven.
The Apostle Paul said: “Even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preach to you, let him be eternally condemned.” Paul preached one Gospel-- the Good News of Jesus.
Sherm, I wish that angel had read you this scripture: “This is eternal life: knowing, understanding, and being acquainted with . . . the only true God and likewise Jesus Christ.”
“Do you know anything about this church?” I said. He huffed, “I don’t believe in church.” Still he was eager to launch into religious talk.
That hooked me; so I visited his apartment near the church occasionally. “What’s new Wayne?” he would greet me. “My name’s Rick.” “Oh.” I kept returning; even though his language was crude as he commented on the wrongs of the planet.
Around my tenth visit he invited me in. “Would you like a cup of coffee Rick?” While drinking microwaved, instant coffee, the usually ornery, Sherm suddenly shifted our conversation. “I’m worried.”
None of the males in his family had lived to his age—sixty-three. “So if you died, what would happen?” He assured me he was squaring away death related legal matters that week.
“No, where would you go?” He motioned his head southward-- his cemetery plot’s location. “That’s where they’ll bury me.”
“No. I’m asking about your eternal destination.”
He responded quickly: “Heaven . . . an angel told me my name’s written in the book of life.” Beyond his supposed angelic encounter at age eighteen, he offered no reason for claiming his ticket to heaven.
The Apostle Paul said: “Even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preach to you, let him be eternally condemned.” Paul preached one Gospel-- the Good News of Jesus.
Sherm, I wish that angel had read you this scripture: “This is eternal life: knowing, understanding, and being acquainted with . . . the only true God and likewise Jesus Christ.”
11/18/05
GOD'S BUSY
The devil’s image with the words: “God’s Busy. Can I Help?” were stamped on Brenda’s t-shirt. Many people find this humorous.
Not me.
The Bible verse John 10:10 is often used in churches to define the devil’s attributes: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” He blinds people to the truth--not funny.
Brenda and her partner Richard looked desperate. They were just out of jail, nearly homeless, broke, and hopeless; in their thirties they were engulfed in a devil-destroyed lifestyle.
We had met a few days earlier. They allowed me to pray with them, asking God to provide jobs. God wasn’t too busy.
Arriving home an hour later, I spotted a help-wanted job listed by an acquaintance. I thought: “This is God.” Wow, a quick answer to prayer. I did some legwork and tried to connect Richard with this construction job.
Richard declined the offer, deciding in favor of temporary work with a traveling carnival. When I drove them an hour north to their new job, Richard was holding one of his few possessions: “I can’t lose this; it’s my lucky penny.”
When we arrived, their “boss” wasn’t there. None of the five people he talked to offered any help. Richard said to Brenda, “What do we do now?” She replied, “Why are you asking me!”
Unloading their belongings, we placed them under a tree. They decided to wait hoping for jobs and housing.
God is not a God of confusion. God had a better plan for their lives. Unfortunately, the devil and the lucky penny were influencing them more than godly advice.
They stood looking dazed by their decisions. I wanted to scream, “God’s not too busy.” But all they heard was the confusing voice from the image on the t-shirt: “Can I help?”
Not me.
The Bible verse John 10:10 is often used in churches to define the devil’s attributes: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” He blinds people to the truth--not funny.
Brenda and her partner Richard looked desperate. They were just out of jail, nearly homeless, broke, and hopeless; in their thirties they were engulfed in a devil-destroyed lifestyle.
We had met a few days earlier. They allowed me to pray with them, asking God to provide jobs. God wasn’t too busy.
Arriving home an hour later, I spotted a help-wanted job listed by an acquaintance. I thought: “This is God.” Wow, a quick answer to prayer. I did some legwork and tried to connect Richard with this construction job.
Richard declined the offer, deciding in favor of temporary work with a traveling carnival. When I drove them an hour north to their new job, Richard was holding one of his few possessions: “I can’t lose this; it’s my lucky penny.”
When we arrived, their “boss” wasn’t there. None of the five people he talked to offered any help. Richard said to Brenda, “What do we do now?” She replied, “Why are you asking me!”
Unloading their belongings, we placed them under a tree. They decided to wait hoping for jobs and housing.
God is not a God of confusion. God had a better plan for their lives. Unfortunately, the devil and the lucky penny were influencing them more than godly advice.
They stood looking dazed by their decisions. I wanted to scream, “God’s not too busy.” But all they heard was the confusing voice from the image on the t-shirt: “Can I help?”
11/12/05
DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT GOD
“Don’t talk to me about God,” Robert said. “I know what you’re trying to do; I used to do it.” All I said was: “Have you been thinking about going back to church.”
Early in our friendship, I felt we would someday be ministry partners. We met weekly to talk and to pray. This is when some of the most edifying God-conversations of my life occurred.
Then one day Robert re-cracked open the door to drugs. Over the next few years he spent time in jail, on the street, the Gospel mission and in rehab. Our contact was sporadic.
When we reconnected it seemed Robert was heading back to God. His blunt remark shoved me back in my seat dazed.
How could a person once zealous for God, now be so distant?
My prayers for Robert continued. My wife prayed; friends prayed. My faith remained; Robert would return to the Lord.
Yet when he told me he was moving to Las Vegas to live with his alcoholic dad, I thought: “God how are you going to work this out?” Separated again.
The silent disconnect ended three months later: “Hey Rick.” Who’s this? “This is Robert.”
I was awestruck as he recounted his journey. After a brief stay in Las Vegas, he returned to drug rehab. While there he was invited to the church across the street. That Sunday, Robert went up front for prayer. The Holy Spirit’s power grabbed him; he instantly returned to the Lord.
The Bible says: “Not by might nor by strength, but by My Spirit says the LORD Almighty.” Through prayer, God allows us to link with Him in initiating the Holy Spirit’s power.
Now all my conversations with Robert revolve around God.
Is there a Robert in your life? Keep praying!
Early in our friendship, I felt we would someday be ministry partners. We met weekly to talk and to pray. This is when some of the most edifying God-conversations of my life occurred.
Then one day Robert re-cracked open the door to drugs. Over the next few years he spent time in jail, on the street, the Gospel mission and in rehab. Our contact was sporadic.
When we reconnected it seemed Robert was heading back to God. His blunt remark shoved me back in my seat dazed.
How could a person once zealous for God, now be so distant?
My prayers for Robert continued. My wife prayed; friends prayed. My faith remained; Robert would return to the Lord.
Yet when he told me he was moving to Las Vegas to live with his alcoholic dad, I thought: “God how are you going to work this out?” Separated again.
The silent disconnect ended three months later: “Hey Rick.” Who’s this? “This is Robert.”
I was awestruck as he recounted his journey. After a brief stay in Las Vegas, he returned to drug rehab. While there he was invited to the church across the street. That Sunday, Robert went up front for prayer. The Holy Spirit’s power grabbed him; he instantly returned to the Lord.
The Bible says: “Not by might nor by strength, but by My Spirit says the LORD Almighty.” Through prayer, God allows us to link with Him in initiating the Holy Spirit’s power.
Now all my conversations with Robert revolve around God.
Is there a Robert in your life? Keep praying!
11/10/05
11/5/05
AWESOME GOD
I had twenty things to do, with enough time to accomplish ten. I was feeling the weight.
As I jumped into my car, the words from the cassette player put my mind into an instant gear shift. “We’re not as strong as we think we are,” the lyrics proclaimed.
I’m not.
The cassette was Rich Mullins, one of my favorite musicians. Oddly, I didn’t even know I owned a copy. Strange. I still haven’t figured out how it got there.
Did God have just the right song playing for just the right moment in my life? Can you let me believe this wasn’t a coincidence?
We’re not as strong as we think we are . . .
The greatest songsmith of the Bible, David, often sang of his weakness. And as an antidote, he penned these lyrics: “But I will sing about Your (God’s) strength; every morning I will sing aloud of Your constant love. You have been a refuge for me, a shelter in my time of trouble. I will praise you, my defender. My refuge is God, the God who loves me.”
Hit parade! That’s God. Start praising Him; the weight will dissipate.
I know. It happened that morning.
That cassette spun out five songs, quit playing and never worked again. It didn’t matter. I was singing and smiling. My focus was on God’s strength.
And my favorite Mullin’s song played in my head just fine: “Our God is an awesome God. He reigns from heaven above with wisdom, power and love. Our God is an awesome God.”
I can’t remember how many times I’ve cried while singing that song. That’s right. I’m not as strong as I think I am, but God is stronger than we think He is.
As I jumped into my car, the words from the cassette player put my mind into an instant gear shift. “We’re not as strong as we think we are,” the lyrics proclaimed.
I’m not.
The cassette was Rich Mullins, one of my favorite musicians. Oddly, I didn’t even know I owned a copy. Strange. I still haven’t figured out how it got there.
Did God have just the right song playing for just the right moment in my life? Can you let me believe this wasn’t a coincidence?
We’re not as strong as we think we are . . .
The greatest songsmith of the Bible, David, often sang of his weakness. And as an antidote, he penned these lyrics: “But I will sing about Your (God’s) strength; every morning I will sing aloud of Your constant love. You have been a refuge for me, a shelter in my time of trouble. I will praise you, my defender. My refuge is God, the God who loves me.”
Hit parade! That’s God. Start praising Him; the weight will dissipate.
I know. It happened that morning.
That cassette spun out five songs, quit playing and never worked again. It didn’t matter. I was singing and smiling. My focus was on God’s strength.
And my favorite Mullin’s song played in my head just fine: “Our God is an awesome God. He reigns from heaven above with wisdom, power and love. Our God is an awesome God.”
I can’t remember how many times I’ve cried while singing that song. That’s right. I’m not as strong as I think I am, but God is stronger than we think He is.
10/29/05
HOW DO YOU SPELL PRETTY?
She makes me laugh sometimes.
At a school program Dasia grabbed my wife’s arm, “Mommy, mommy, mommy!” We love our beautiful, 8 year old chocolate-skinned friend. But Nancy, who remarked, “I look pretty white and old,” isn’t mommy.
“She’s not thinking,” Nancy said, “She’s just saying whatever comes into her head.”
I remember when this came into her head.
“How do you spell your name?” Dasia asked Nancy. “Don’t look; I’m making a picture for you.” She worked hard on her crayoned creation. Looking around the room, she could see her picture would be taped to the wall with others from Nancy’s many young friends.
Dasia announced. “It’s ready, it’s a picture of us, and it says: Nancy is pretty.”
The jubilant little girl with her labor-of-love artwork was momentarily forgotten as Nancy thought: “What will people think? I can’t hang that up; I’m not pretty.”
The scene depicted a house adorned with seven hearts. There were three smiling stick figures. A large heart outside the house had the names Dasia, her brother Darryl, and Nancy encircled. Above a crayoned tree it said, “from Dasia to Nancy.”
“Nancy is pride” bannered the top of the picture. Dasia hadn’t asked how to spell that word. So based on her pronunciation, “pri-dee,” this is what came out of her head.
Out of her head--what comes out of our heads for pretty?
The Apostle Peter knew pretty. “It’s not your outer appearance. Rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God.”
To Dasia; a person who is kind, caring, fun to be with and is interested in her is pretty.
Maybe her head can’t spell pretty, but Dasia’s heart can.
10/22/05
TATTOO
“I’m thinking of getting a tattoo of God on the back of my neck,” Richie said. Will his fourth tattoo make him a radical?
“I’ll be the one without a tattoo.” Pretty radical. I was describing myself to a stranger I needed to meet up with in a group setting. His business like response: “That’ll help.”
Who’s the radical? Tattooed Richie? Non-tattooed me?
Radical: “Marked by a sharp departure from the usual or traditional.”
I don’t know who wins the contest, but I do know this definition describes Jesus.
A young man approached Jesus, asking about how to become His follower. This man was rich, powerful, and moral; he seemed to have it all together.
Traditional religious thought would say, “Yes.” We would snag him up and put him on the church building committee.
Not Jesus. He viewed this man through eternal eyes. The Bible says, “Looking at him, Jesus felt a love for him and said to him: One thing you lack, go sell all you possess and give it to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven; and come follow Me.”
“When the young man heard this, he went away sad . . .” Jesus revealed one thing; He revealed the man’s heart.
Richie was musing about his tattoo desire on our way home from church. He doesn’t go very often. I shrug my shoulders regarding his tattoos. But going to church, that matters.
As a counter idea to a God tattoo on the neck, I said, “Why don’t you get Jesus in your heart?”
He smiles, “That would hurt.” Adding: “No thanks, I think I’ll keep it in ink.”
Yes Richie, being radical can be painful. Jesus dying on the cross for the sins of mankind, that was painful. That was radical!
“I’ll be the one without a tattoo.” Pretty radical. I was describing myself to a stranger I needed to meet up with in a group setting. His business like response: “That’ll help.”
Who’s the radical? Tattooed Richie? Non-tattooed me?
Radical: “Marked by a sharp departure from the usual or traditional.”
I don’t know who wins the contest, but I do know this definition describes Jesus.
A young man approached Jesus, asking about how to become His follower. This man was rich, powerful, and moral; he seemed to have it all together.
Traditional religious thought would say, “Yes.” We would snag him up and put him on the church building committee.
Not Jesus. He viewed this man through eternal eyes. The Bible says, “Looking at him, Jesus felt a love for him and said to him: One thing you lack, go sell all you possess and give it to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven; and come follow Me.”
“When the young man heard this, he went away sad . . .” Jesus revealed one thing; He revealed the man’s heart.
Richie was musing about his tattoo desire on our way home from church. He doesn’t go very often. I shrug my shoulders regarding his tattoos. But going to church, that matters.
As a counter idea to a God tattoo on the neck, I said, “Why don’t you get Jesus in your heart?”
He smiles, “That would hurt.” Adding: “No thanks, I think I’ll keep it in ink.”
Yes Richie, being radical can be painful. Jesus dying on the cross for the sins of mankind, that was painful. That was radical!
10/17/05
10/15/05
THE HUG
The hug kind of startled me.
I was visiting the park as part of my vacation experience. As I looked around, I saw a dad pushing his daughter on a swing. Nearby a grandma, daughter, and child laughed playing silly games.
I spotted Cody, alone, shooting hoops. I headed over to the court. “You play basketball pretty good,” I said. ”Hey, you’ve been watching me,” he responded.
We played a game of H.O.R.S.E. as we engaged in we’re-strangers conversation: “How old are you? Where do you live?” Then Cody looked up at me, “Do you drink?” What an unusual, disconnected question I thought.
Concerned because a stranger was talking to her son, Cody’s mom marched over from the log cabin across the street. She was sizing me up. I tried to alleviate her concerns by telling her I was a Christian, active in mentoring youth. And I quickly found out she was Cody’s foster mom.
It happened, unannounced without warning, as I focused on talking to Cody’s mom. He hugged me around my stomach as he briefly pressed his head against my body. He said, “I like you.” I instinctively responded, “I like you too.”
The Bible says: “Children are a gift from God, they are a real blessing.”
No one had to explain to me why he hugged me; no one had to explain to me why he asked if I drank. Now it adds up.
“Children are a gift from God . . .
What is hard for me to add up is the climbing statistics that over half a million children in the U.S. live in foster care.
“Children are a gift . . .
“I’ve got to leave,” I told Cody. “No, don’t leave,” he pleaded.
Wow, this is hard. “Children are . . .
I was visiting the park as part of my vacation experience. As I looked around, I saw a dad pushing his daughter on a swing. Nearby a grandma, daughter, and child laughed playing silly games.
I spotted Cody, alone, shooting hoops. I headed over to the court. “You play basketball pretty good,” I said. ”Hey, you’ve been watching me,” he responded.
We played a game of H.O.R.S.E. as we engaged in we’re-strangers conversation: “How old are you? Where do you live?” Then Cody looked up at me, “Do you drink?” What an unusual, disconnected question I thought.
Concerned because a stranger was talking to her son, Cody’s mom marched over from the log cabin across the street. She was sizing me up. I tried to alleviate her concerns by telling her I was a Christian, active in mentoring youth. And I quickly found out she was Cody’s foster mom.
It happened, unannounced without warning, as I focused on talking to Cody’s mom. He hugged me around my stomach as he briefly pressed his head against my body. He said, “I like you.” I instinctively responded, “I like you too.”
The Bible says: “Children are a gift from God, they are a real blessing.”
No one had to explain to me why he hugged me; no one had to explain to me why he asked if I drank. Now it adds up.
“Children are a gift from God . . .
What is hard for me to add up is the climbing statistics that over half a million children in the U.S. live in foster care.
“Children are a gift . . .
“I’ve got to leave,” I told Cody. “No, don’t leave,” he pleaded.
Wow, this is hard. “Children are . . .
10/9/05
TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES
I wasn’t in the preaching mood. I was full-tilt busy finishing a construction job. But I wasn’t going to send a silent message of agreement.
Tom, who was loading trash into his truck, started telling me about this morning’s meeting with his social worker. “You’re on disability?” I said. “Yeah, I’ve had three back surgeries.” How’s your back now? “It feels fine after the last surgery.”
He continued on about his meeting, “I figured it was O.K. to lie.” He confessed how he had lied about his ability to lift, his ability to walk and his ability to stand for any length of time.
“I think a person should tell the truth all the time,” I stated. With no initial response from Tom, we both kept working.
Almost as if talking to himself Tom said,” I’m not getting rich doing this.” He continued, “I’ve got a diploma, but I can’t read, who would hire me?” “Who would hire me if I told them I’ve had back surgery.”
The Bibles states, “There are seven things the LORD hates and cannot tolerate . . . a lying tongue . . . a false witness who utters lies . . .” Two out of seven condemn lying.
Now I’m watching two of lying’s ugly sides roar to life. First, I see Tom lying to himself; he’s convinced that he’s disabled and unable to achieve the achievable. Second, I begin to question the truthfulness of things he’s told me over the past months.
As if to make one last appeal, Tom put his hand on my shoulder, “You know I’ve done work for you a long time; I only charge you $50 a load. Everyone else pays me $60.”
I couldn’t help thinking, “I don’t know if I believe him.”
Tom, who was loading trash into his truck, started telling me about this morning’s meeting with his social worker. “You’re on disability?” I said. “Yeah, I’ve had three back surgeries.” How’s your back now? “It feels fine after the last surgery.”
He continued on about his meeting, “I figured it was O.K. to lie.” He confessed how he had lied about his ability to lift, his ability to walk and his ability to stand for any length of time.
“I think a person should tell the truth all the time,” I stated. With no initial response from Tom, we both kept working.
Almost as if talking to himself Tom said,” I’m not getting rich doing this.” He continued, “I’ve got a diploma, but I can’t read, who would hire me?” “Who would hire me if I told them I’ve had back surgery.”
The Bibles states, “There are seven things the LORD hates and cannot tolerate . . . a lying tongue . . . a false witness who utters lies . . .” Two out of seven condemn lying.
Now I’m watching two of lying’s ugly sides roar to life. First, I see Tom lying to himself; he’s convinced that he’s disabled and unable to achieve the achievable. Second, I begin to question the truthfulness of things he’s told me over the past months.
As if to make one last appeal, Tom put his hand on my shoulder, “You know I’ve done work for you a long time; I only charge you $50 a load. Everyone else pays me $60.”
I couldn’t help thinking, “I don’t know if I believe him.”
10/1/05
WHY?
“My grandma died,” said Robert. “I don’t understand why”
Robert showed up at our Monday night Bible study for the first time. New members are asked a few questions regarding their spiritual life.
“I used to go to church,” Robert told us. His grandma took him. Her death caused him to collide with the why-question; then he chose to quit attending.
The Bible has a passage I gravitate towards when life roughs me up. “We know that all things work together for good to those that love God, to those who are the called according His purpose.”
As the meeting wound down, the conversation slid back to Robert’s “why” question. I shared the “all things verse.” To break the chill off it, I revisited part of my day.
When I left home to come to the meeting, I said goodbye to my wife who had bronchitis for over a week. She was resting again as she struggled to make it through the day. My next stop was my mom’s. Three miles from her house I got a speeding ticket. In my mind I’m thinking: “Yeah, I was speeding, but this is like a speed trap.”
And I still needed to visit my mom. Sick for most of the year, her looks jarred my mind: “She could die soon.” She assured me she would be alright as I left.
Telling Robert the unpredictable, troubling circumstances of my day, I realized it’s not a question of “why.” I trust that God’s awesome love and faithfulness are without doubt—always present.
Robert, you quit . . . God didn’t. Go after God with your whole heart, soul, mind and strength. Then His eternal love and grace will transcend you to a place where it’s no longer a “why?” But, “Wow, I see God working in this!”
Robert showed up at our Monday night Bible study for the first time. New members are asked a few questions regarding their spiritual life.
“I used to go to church,” Robert told us. His grandma took him. Her death caused him to collide with the why-question; then he chose to quit attending.
The Bible has a passage I gravitate towards when life roughs me up. “We know that all things work together for good to those that love God, to those who are the called according His purpose.”
As the meeting wound down, the conversation slid back to Robert’s “why” question. I shared the “all things verse.” To break the chill off it, I revisited part of my day.
When I left home to come to the meeting, I said goodbye to my wife who had bronchitis for over a week. She was resting again as she struggled to make it through the day. My next stop was my mom’s. Three miles from her house I got a speeding ticket. In my mind I’m thinking: “Yeah, I was speeding, but this is like a speed trap.”
And I still needed to visit my mom. Sick for most of the year, her looks jarred my mind: “She could die soon.” She assured me she would be alright as I left.
Telling Robert the unpredictable, troubling circumstances of my day, I realized it’s not a question of “why.” I trust that God’s awesome love and faithfulness are without doubt—always present.
Robert, you quit . . . God didn’t. Go after God with your whole heart, soul, mind and strength. Then His eternal love and grace will transcend you to a place where it’s no longer a “why?” But, “Wow, I see God working in this!”
9/24/05
HIS THREE HOUR JOURNEY
The church is packed.
Phil, the speaker, lives the true real-simple lifestyle. He doesn’t own a car, television or a telephone. And his house is sans electricity.
Repeatedly during his hour plus talk he comes near tears, recalling his three hour journey. Though only occasionally has he traveled further than 50 miles from his home; the story of his journey has the crowd of 500 plus intensely focused.
Phil often repeats the phrase, “It was unreal,” while describing his journey.
His three hour journey? He’s talking about a journey to heaven.
The Apostle Paul alludes to his own journey to Heaven: “I know this man – whether in the body or apart from the body, I don’t know, but God knows—was caught up to paradise (heaven).
“Is Phil’s story real?” I thought.
God knows.
His story goes: while alone one morning at work, he was suddenly taken up to heaven. And there he met Jesus and was given a tour of heaven. Phil says about his look-in-the-eyes meeting with Jesus: “There was fire in His eyes.” He stops, as a rush of emotion halts his words . . . “but when you love the Lord Jesus, they’re loving kind.”
He finishes speaking, walks stage right and sits down. Lowering his head -- the weight of his eternally engraved journey wears like a tattoo on his slumped body. There’s no offering tonight. He refuses to accept one. An honorarium? No. “Give the money to someone needy.”
The scriptures remind: “Set your mind on things above, not on earthly things.”
So many times I need to do a mental brake-hard and once again hear Phil’s almost begging, journey-inspired words. “Let’s be true followers of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
They still echo in my head as I transcend from earth.
Phil, the speaker, lives the true real-simple lifestyle. He doesn’t own a car, television or a telephone. And his house is sans electricity.
Repeatedly during his hour plus talk he comes near tears, recalling his three hour journey. Though only occasionally has he traveled further than 50 miles from his home; the story of his journey has the crowd of 500 plus intensely focused.
Phil often repeats the phrase, “It was unreal,” while describing his journey.
His three hour journey? He’s talking about a journey to heaven.
The Apostle Paul alludes to his own journey to Heaven: “I know this man – whether in the body or apart from the body, I don’t know, but God knows—was caught up to paradise (heaven).
“Is Phil’s story real?” I thought.
God knows.
His story goes: while alone one morning at work, he was suddenly taken up to heaven. And there he met Jesus and was given a tour of heaven. Phil says about his look-in-the-eyes meeting with Jesus: “There was fire in His eyes.” He stops, as a rush of emotion halts his words . . . “but when you love the Lord Jesus, they’re loving kind.”
He finishes speaking, walks stage right and sits down. Lowering his head -- the weight of his eternally engraved journey wears like a tattoo on his slumped body. There’s no offering tonight. He refuses to accept one. An honorarium? No. “Give the money to someone needy.”
The scriptures remind: “Set your mind on things above, not on earthly things.”
So many times I need to do a mental brake-hard and once again hear Phil’s almost begging, journey-inspired words. “Let’s be true followers of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
They still echo in my head as I transcend from earth.
9/17/05
BEFORE RENT TO OWN
Did he think it was a semi-fanatical Christian mandate in my life?
While helping my cousin move, her husband Peter asked me why I don’t own a television. I explained. Twenty-two years ago when my wife and I bought a house, our budget was so tight we couldn’t afford a television. Busy with our fixer-upper, we became accustomed to living televisionless.
This satisfied Peter—pretty much. I had noticed a mega TV in his new place, so I added, “Remember, this was before rent to own.”
“How old are you!” Peter stared at me as if he was talking to an ancient artifact. Quickly piling on, “Aren’t you afraid to die?”
He was serious. And then he haltingly said, “I think about dying almost every day.” I asked him why he thought about death so much. Peter said, “I always wonder why God bought us to earth; then we die.”
We’re born; we die. What’s the in-between about?
Jesus said: “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit-- fruit that will last.”
Life Purpose 1: Jesus Christ, the God of the universe, chose us to have a relationship with Him. Imagine-- I get excited because I’ve accepted His invitation.
Life Purpose 2: Each person is to live a meaningful, godly life which produces lasting fruit.
Fruit?
The Bible provides a list of life-fruits which should be growing in our lives: “Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” From there our fruitfultiness needs to influence other people to have these same godly characteristics.
Peter, if you . . . and if I have that kind of fruit in our lives, we won’t be afraid to die.
While helping my cousin move, her husband Peter asked me why I don’t own a television. I explained. Twenty-two years ago when my wife and I bought a house, our budget was so tight we couldn’t afford a television. Busy with our fixer-upper, we became accustomed to living televisionless.
This satisfied Peter—pretty much. I had noticed a mega TV in his new place, so I added, “Remember, this was before rent to own.”
“How old are you!” Peter stared at me as if he was talking to an ancient artifact. Quickly piling on, “Aren’t you afraid to die?”
He was serious. And then he haltingly said, “I think about dying almost every day.” I asked him why he thought about death so much. Peter said, “I always wonder why God bought us to earth; then we die.”
We’re born; we die. What’s the in-between about?
Jesus said: “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit-- fruit that will last.”
Life Purpose 1: Jesus Christ, the God of the universe, chose us to have a relationship with Him. Imagine-- I get excited because I’ve accepted His invitation.
Life Purpose 2: Each person is to live a meaningful, godly life which produces lasting fruit.
Fruit?
The Bible provides a list of life-fruits which should be growing in our lives: “Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” From there our fruitfultiness needs to influence other people to have these same godly characteristics.
Peter, if you . . . and if I have that kind of fruit in our lives, we won’t be afraid to die.
9/10/05
SUNDAY MORNING HEZEKIAH
“Hey can you help me?” I heard as I exited the gas station early Sunday morning. “I need 60 cents for the bus.” He told me his name was Hezekiah. Homeless—with disoriented conversation and unfocused eyes, he was high.
“Where are you going to catch the bus at?” I don’t know. “Where are you going?” I don’t know.
Though not very convincing for his cause, Sunday Morning Hezekiah did know that his name was Biblical. He even knew where his name was found in the Bible.
His namesake is one of the Bible’s greatest kings. King Hezekiah’s leadership was marked by the statement: “He held fast to God and did not cease to follow Him; he kept the commands of God . . . he was successful in whatever he undertook.”
Could there be any greater contrast than King Hezekiah and Sunday Morning Hezekiah?
Still I thought, “Oh God, what amazing things You could do with this man’s life if he would follow You.”
I walked away excusing myself from further interaction because of Hezekiah’s lack of coherence. Seventy-five feet away I felt God bungee cording me back. The idea of paying Hezekiah 60 cents for allowing me to photograph him popped into my head.
I went back, explaining my proposal. Hezekiah smiled; flipped his grungy coat inside out to reveal its clean side. He stood tall and asked me, “Am I going to be in a magazine?”
I stood amazed observing his desire to appear successful. King Hezekiah was successful and Sunday Morning Hezekiah desired the same.
Between living on the street and the success of a king there seems to be an insurmountable gulf. Yet the timeless truth in King Hezekiah’s life: “He kept the commands of God,” provides a bridge.
God, help Sunday Morning Hezekiah discover this truth; God, help him be successful.
“Where are you going to catch the bus at?” I don’t know. “Where are you going?” I don’t know.
Though not very convincing for his cause, Sunday Morning Hezekiah did know that his name was Biblical. He even knew where his name was found in the Bible.
His namesake is one of the Bible’s greatest kings. King Hezekiah’s leadership was marked by the statement: “He held fast to God and did not cease to follow Him; he kept the commands of God . . . he was successful in whatever he undertook.”
Could there be any greater contrast than King Hezekiah and Sunday Morning Hezekiah?
Still I thought, “Oh God, what amazing things You could do with this man’s life if he would follow You.”
I walked away excusing myself from further interaction because of Hezekiah’s lack of coherence. Seventy-five feet away I felt God bungee cording me back. The idea of paying Hezekiah 60 cents for allowing me to photograph him popped into my head.
I went back, explaining my proposal. Hezekiah smiled; flipped his grungy coat inside out to reveal its clean side. He stood tall and asked me, “Am I going to be in a magazine?”
I stood amazed observing his desire to appear successful. King Hezekiah was successful and Sunday Morning Hezekiah desired the same.
Between living on the street and the success of a king there seems to be an insurmountable gulf. Yet the timeless truth in King Hezekiah’s life: “He kept the commands of God,” provides a bridge.
God, help Sunday Morning Hezekiah discover this truth; God, help him be successful.
9/3/05
ANXIOUSLY AWAITING OZZIE OSBORNE
The heavy metal band Korn banged on their instruments, rasping out lyrics I couldn’t understand. I didn’t care. I was anxiously awaiting Ozzie Osborne—the headliner.
This was 9 years ago. Screaming, spilled beer and the whiffs of marijuana smoke framed the atmosphere. Even though I was over 40, this seemed normal.
The Bible says, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to destruction.”
My life seemed right. It was hip to be over 40 going to a rock concert. My construction business was flourishing. A disciplined exercise routine kept me in top physical shape. I had a beautiful wife. And I was well thought of in the community.
The truth. I was tired of rock concerts. Work was consuming my life. My exercise program was an egotistical, often pleasureless pursuit. My marriage was a disaster. And if my 15 year secret addition ever became public . . . an instant pile-of-rubble image crash.
Destruction was catching me in the race of life.
At work a few months later, a fellow non-believer approached me, “Hey, check this out.” A Christian-rock radio station? I didn’t know such a thing existed—I got hooked.
Lyrics like, “People say I’m strange; does that make me a stranger? My best friend was born in a manager,” gripped my soul. More importantly the radio preachers’ messages injected life into my dieing existence.
It could have been just another trip to the lumber yard.
On the radio that day, Pastor Greg Laurie said, “Are you tired of the life your living? Isn’t it time you invited Jesus Christ into your life?” Right there in my truck, I prayed to Jesus and committed my life to following Him.
Now, I’m anxiously awaiting Jesus.
This was 9 years ago. Screaming, spilled beer and the whiffs of marijuana smoke framed the atmosphere. Even though I was over 40, this seemed normal.
The Bible says, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to destruction.”
My life seemed right. It was hip to be over 40 going to a rock concert. My construction business was flourishing. A disciplined exercise routine kept me in top physical shape. I had a beautiful wife. And I was well thought of in the community.
The truth. I was tired of rock concerts. Work was consuming my life. My exercise program was an egotistical, often pleasureless pursuit. My marriage was a disaster. And if my 15 year secret addition ever became public . . . an instant pile-of-rubble image crash.
Destruction was catching me in the race of life.
At work a few months later, a fellow non-believer approached me, “Hey, check this out.” A Christian-rock radio station? I didn’t know such a thing existed—I got hooked.
Lyrics like, “People say I’m strange; does that make me a stranger? My best friend was born in a manager,” gripped my soul. More importantly the radio preachers’ messages injected life into my dieing existence.
It could have been just another trip to the lumber yard.
On the radio that day, Pastor Greg Laurie said, “Are you tired of the life your living? Isn’t it time you invited Jesus Christ into your life?” Right there in my truck, I prayed to Jesus and committed my life to following Him.
Now, I’m anxiously awaiting Jesus.
8/27/05
SNORING IN THE PEWS
His snoring was loud, guttural, and distinctive. Lee, who I had brought to church, was embarrassing me. Sitting two rows from the front, I thought: “I wonder if the pastor heard him.”
The elder’s wife glanced back at me. She smiled-- rather graciously. A teenager across the aisle gave me a roll-your-eyes smirk. I could only guess what the people behind me thought. Then my wife gave me “a look”--“Poke him.”
I did, once. Not liking his sleepy-eyed glare, I stopped. Lee nodded, snored, and intermittently jerked his head. Then he would listen briefly and continue the irritating snoring.
I take my church experience seriously. I want to experience God. I want to worship God. I want to have my life changed . . . I want, I want.
Yeah, I started hearing from God—right through the snoring. The Bible verse “Humble yourself before the Lord and He will lift you up in due time,” whispered into my mind.
While concerned if other people were distracted by the snoring, I humbled myself. I decided not to care about what people thought of me. A formidable obstacle in life—what do people think of me?
Driving home, Lee said, “I’m sorry I kept falling asleep.” That’s O.K. I was glad he went with me knowing he attends church less than once a month.
I’m concerned about Lee’s spiritual life.
A couple of weeks later, my wife saw Lee. Again he mentioned his falling asleep, adding, “Every time I woke up, it was like the preacher was talking right to me.” And then he told her he was attending church closer to home more regularly.
God showed me; the Sunday service was about God and Lee . . . not me. I was lifted up.
The elder’s wife glanced back at me. She smiled-- rather graciously. A teenager across the aisle gave me a roll-your-eyes smirk. I could only guess what the people behind me thought. Then my wife gave me “a look”--“Poke him.”
I did, once. Not liking his sleepy-eyed glare, I stopped. Lee nodded, snored, and intermittently jerked his head. Then he would listen briefly and continue the irritating snoring.
I take my church experience seriously. I want to experience God. I want to worship God. I want to have my life changed . . . I want, I want.
Yeah, I started hearing from God—right through the snoring. The Bible verse “Humble yourself before the Lord and He will lift you up in due time,” whispered into my mind.
While concerned if other people were distracted by the snoring, I humbled myself. I decided not to care about what people thought of me. A formidable obstacle in life—what do people think of me?
Driving home, Lee said, “I’m sorry I kept falling asleep.” That’s O.K. I was glad he went with me knowing he attends church less than once a month.
I’m concerned about Lee’s spiritual life.
A couple of weeks later, my wife saw Lee. Again he mentioned his falling asleep, adding, “Every time I woke up, it was like the preacher was talking right to me.” And then he told her he was attending church closer to home more regularly.
God showed me; the Sunday service was about God and Lee . . . not me. I was lifted up.
8/20/05
TEMPERED SOUL
“What’s your e-mail address,” I asked Autumn. temperedsoul @ aol.com. Why do you use tempered soul?” She replied, “I’m temperamental.” I smiled to the point of laughter, “You Autumn?”
My wife started mentoring Autumn when she was a sixth grader. Eight years later, married with a child; we remain close even though she lives hundreds of miles away.
I know few people who are more emotionally expressive than Autumn. I remember explosive anger when she couldn’t be consoled. During those times my wife and I learned to ride the wave to calmer water.
Then there were the still-feel-like-crying moments when Autumn would be gentle as she beautifully expressed her heart. I will never forget the time she said to me, “I’m closer to you than my own dad.”
She initiated keep-us-connected phone calls. Autumn might rant a little and then the smile in her voice would break through. No matter where her tempered soul drifted our conversation, she ended with: “I love you”
Love is a big word.
The Apostle Paul breathes life into the word “love” in 1 Corinthians 13. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves. Love never fails.”
The Apostle Paul’s love description is a load to pull off. Where can a person even begin?
While the core of really knowing love is knowing God; are there many human actions more meaningful than the verbal expression of love? The Bible says, “From the heart the mouth speaks.”
Now I end my phone conversations with my favorite tempered soul by saying: “I love you Autumn.”
My wife started mentoring Autumn when she was a sixth grader. Eight years later, married with a child; we remain close even though she lives hundreds of miles away.
I know few people who are more emotionally expressive than Autumn. I remember explosive anger when she couldn’t be consoled. During those times my wife and I learned to ride the wave to calmer water.
Then there were the still-feel-like-crying moments when Autumn would be gentle as she beautifully expressed her heart. I will never forget the time she said to me, “I’m closer to you than my own dad.”
She initiated keep-us-connected phone calls. Autumn might rant a little and then the smile in her voice would break through. No matter where her tempered soul drifted our conversation, she ended with: “I love you”
Love is a big word.
The Apostle Paul breathes life into the word “love” in 1 Corinthians 13. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves. Love never fails.”
The Apostle Paul’s love description is a load to pull off. Where can a person even begin?
While the core of really knowing love is knowing God; are there many human actions more meaningful than the verbal expression of love? The Bible says, “From the heart the mouth speaks.”
Now I end my phone conversations with my favorite tempered soul by saying: “I love you Autumn.”
8/13/05
SOMETHING GOOD HAPPENED
“I prayed to Jesus” Jose said. “Nothing good happened.” He was cold, hungry, confused and almost in tears.
He had wandered in off the street, nearly exhausted—friendless. The Spanish signs in the window seemed welcoming.
He quickly spilled out his story of hopelessness to the lady working at what appeared to be a second hand clothing store.
Promised a job, he had been transported a few hours from his home. His new job: 13 hour days making $3 an hour. The people who helped him find the job now insisted he pay them an extravagant finder’s fee. And after 5 days of work, he received no pay. He was hopeless. The night before he had slept in an unheated garage in below freezing weather. His expectations shattered.
Jose didn’t realize he had arrived at a Christian ministry. The lady behind the counter said a silent prayer and smiled: “No, don’t give up faith.”
Conversation with Jose revealed he had a lot of problems, a lot of failing.
The Bible says: “We who are strong, of robust faith, ought to bear with the failings of the weak-- not to please ourselves.”
Over the next 2 days Christians came to his aid. Jose was given a place to sleep, more food than he could eat, and a little money.
The Bible continues: “Everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have continuing hope.”
As Jose sat on his motel room bed; Santiago, one of the people offering aid, knelt on the floor sharing many scriptures with him. Then they prayed an eternal prayer of hope to Jesus. Through teary eyes Jose said, “I have such a peace in my heart.”
Something good happened.
He had wandered in off the street, nearly exhausted—friendless. The Spanish signs in the window seemed welcoming.
He quickly spilled out his story of hopelessness to the lady working at what appeared to be a second hand clothing store.
Promised a job, he had been transported a few hours from his home. His new job: 13 hour days making $3 an hour. The people who helped him find the job now insisted he pay them an extravagant finder’s fee. And after 5 days of work, he received no pay. He was hopeless. The night before he had slept in an unheated garage in below freezing weather. His expectations shattered.
Jose didn’t realize he had arrived at a Christian ministry. The lady behind the counter said a silent prayer and smiled: “No, don’t give up faith.”
Conversation with Jose revealed he had a lot of problems, a lot of failing.
The Bible says: “We who are strong, of robust faith, ought to bear with the failings of the weak-- not to please ourselves.”
Over the next 2 days Christians came to his aid. Jose was given a place to sleep, more food than he could eat, and a little money.
The Bible continues: “Everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have continuing hope.”
As Jose sat on his motel room bed; Santiago, one of the people offering aid, knelt on the floor sharing many scriptures with him. Then they prayed an eternal prayer of hope to Jesus. Through teary eyes Jose said, “I have such a peace in my heart.”
Something good happened.
8/6/05
SUSPICIOUS SITUATION
Flip to page three of the newspaper—there it is. The police log from a couple nights prior: “11:43 p.m. 100 block N. Main St. Suspicious Situation.”
The police car approached a man walking down the street with tears flowing down his face: “Son is everything alright?” The man explained everything to the police officer just as a second car arrived. As they left, no arrests made, one of the officers said, “Boy you really caused a lot of commotion.”
The man wasn’t drunk and no crimes were committed. No, this was my friend John. He told the officer the reason for his crying and hands lifted to the sky: “I’m just worshipping God.”
John, worshipping on Main St.? The church sign in that neighborhood states: “Come Worship 9 & 11.” Inside the church on Sunday morning for an hour or so, isn’t that worship?
In Genesis 22:5 the word “worship” appears in the Bible for the first time. First mention is always a pay-attention moment for Bible scholars.
It says, “We will worship.” Here Abraham and his only son Isaac are the participants in the worship. But there’s no singing, no preaching, no late night “suspicious situation.” Abraham had heard the voice of God. He was going up the mountain to kill his son as a human sacrifice.
What!
Abraham never sacrificed his son. God provided an alternative sacrifice just as Abraham, with knife in hand, prepared to obey God to the ultimate.
Abraham tapped into the essence of true worship--sacrificial obedience. This means giving up everything to God as we worship Him through our lives all the time. As John discovered, this type of radical, all or nothing worship stirs up commotion sometimes.
God notices. “God called to Abraham from heaven . . . I will surely bless you.”
The police car approached a man walking down the street with tears flowing down his face: “Son is everything alright?” The man explained everything to the police officer just as a second car arrived. As they left, no arrests made, one of the officers said, “Boy you really caused a lot of commotion.”
The man wasn’t drunk and no crimes were committed. No, this was my friend John. He told the officer the reason for his crying and hands lifted to the sky: “I’m just worshipping God.”
John, worshipping on Main St.? The church sign in that neighborhood states: “Come Worship 9 & 11.” Inside the church on Sunday morning for an hour or so, isn’t that worship?
In Genesis 22:5 the word “worship” appears in the Bible for the first time. First mention is always a pay-attention moment for Bible scholars.
It says, “We will worship.” Here Abraham and his only son Isaac are the participants in the worship. But there’s no singing, no preaching, no late night “suspicious situation.” Abraham had heard the voice of God. He was going up the mountain to kill his son as a human sacrifice.
What!
Abraham never sacrificed his son. God provided an alternative sacrifice just as Abraham, with knife in hand, prepared to obey God to the ultimate.
Abraham tapped into the essence of true worship--sacrificial obedience. This means giving up everything to God as we worship Him through our lives all the time. As John discovered, this type of radical, all or nothing worship stirs up commotion sometimes.
God notices. “God called to Abraham from heaven . . . I will surely bless you.”
7/30/05
DEEP WATER
The conversation turned quickly. I was in deep water. I enjoy talking to Jon who has a doctorate degree in physics—a brilliant research scientist. Yet he can easily talk over my head.
We discussed a movie about Moses and the Jewish people I had recently viewed. I believe the movie’s miraculous Biblical portrayal: “By faith the people passed through the Red Sea on dry land.” By faith.
Jon had recently seen a movie on the same subject. The very way he said, “Educational television,” informed me that his movie version was superior. He didn’t dispute the Bible and the fact of the occurrence. He just needed to inform me of some fresh scientific facts.
I was about to be educated; I was in deep water.
He came to the crux of the issue informing me of a supposed misspelling in the Biblical text. Moses and the Jewish people actually passed through the Reed Sea not the Red Sea.
Oh. And the Reed Sea was only ankle deep. A wind blew the water hard enough to make a dry path allowing 3 million Jews to easily scamper away from the pursuing Egyptian army. Not a faith event but a windy day.
My faith held firm; I still believe in the miracles. Jon basically accepted the biblical account; it just needed fine tuning because of the “unfortunate” spelling error.
The Bible says: “But when the Egyptians tried to pass through the Red Sea they were drowned.” I asked Jon about the largest, most powerful army in the world at the time: “How did the Egyptian army drown in ankle deep water?”
Jon grinned, scrunched his eyes, was silent for a moment-- “I didn’t think of that.”
Without faith, a person encounters many I-didn’t-think-of-that moments in life. Without faith you’ll be in deep water.
We discussed a movie about Moses and the Jewish people I had recently viewed. I believe the movie’s miraculous Biblical portrayal: “By faith the people passed through the Red Sea on dry land.” By faith.
Jon had recently seen a movie on the same subject. The very way he said, “Educational television,” informed me that his movie version was superior. He didn’t dispute the Bible and the fact of the occurrence. He just needed to inform me of some fresh scientific facts.
I was about to be educated; I was in deep water.
He came to the crux of the issue informing me of a supposed misspelling in the Biblical text. Moses and the Jewish people actually passed through the Reed Sea not the Red Sea.
Oh. And the Reed Sea was only ankle deep. A wind blew the water hard enough to make a dry path allowing 3 million Jews to easily scamper away from the pursuing Egyptian army. Not a faith event but a windy day.
My faith held firm; I still believe in the miracles. Jon basically accepted the biblical account; it just needed fine tuning because of the “unfortunate” spelling error.
The Bible says: “But when the Egyptians tried to pass through the Red Sea they were drowned.” I asked Jon about the largest, most powerful army in the world at the time: “How did the Egyptian army drown in ankle deep water?”
Jon grinned, scrunched his eyes, was silent for a moment-- “I didn’t think of that.”
Without faith, a person encounters many I-didn’t-think-of-that moments in life. Without faith you’ll be in deep water.
7/23/05
B.I.B.L.E.
Ricky cut me off as I was making my way to the exit. He had a theological question. He informed me he had asked 5 other pastors his question. Not one response had satisfied him. I thought, “This could be tough, I hope can answer him.”
Ricky said, “What does the word Bible mean?”
My mind immediately started to search, bring back memories of sitting in Bible college classes. As I attempted to stir up Greek and Hebrew words in my brain, Ricky seemed impatient. “The letters that make up the word!” B.I.B.L.E.
I smiled—“Basic Instruction Before Leaving Earth.”
His just-won-Jeopardy excitement was contagious. Then he told me the story of how this “truth” was revealed to his dad two years ago in a dream. “We wrote it on a plaque; it’s hanging on the wall.”
Interesting . . .
Basic Instruction Before Leaving Earth, a catchy acronym. But is it true?
Hebrews 4:12 says: “The word of God (the Bible) is living and active, full of power; sharper than any two edged-sword.” For many people the Bible is a gentle butter-knife spreading of God into their life—basic. Yet meant to be more. The same verse tells us the Bible slices into our lives—“It judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”
Twitching with delight, Ricky continued his story. He asked his dad why God would reveal the B.I.B.L.E.-truth to him. He told Ricky how he had made a decision to become a follower of Jesus, “And yesterday I took the meat cleaver and chopped up all my cigarettes.”
Ricky’s dad got both. The basic: he became a follower of Jesus Christ. And he got the power to make a cutting change in his life. The double edged sword part. Chop, chop.
Ricky said, “What does the word Bible mean?”
My mind immediately started to search, bring back memories of sitting in Bible college classes. As I attempted to stir up Greek and Hebrew words in my brain, Ricky seemed impatient. “The letters that make up the word!” B.I.B.L.E.
I smiled—“Basic Instruction Before Leaving Earth.”
His just-won-Jeopardy excitement was contagious. Then he told me the story of how this “truth” was revealed to his dad two years ago in a dream. “We wrote it on a plaque; it’s hanging on the wall.”
Interesting . . .
Basic Instruction Before Leaving Earth, a catchy acronym. But is it true?
Hebrews 4:12 says: “The word of God (the Bible) is living and active, full of power; sharper than any two edged-sword.” For many people the Bible is a gentle butter-knife spreading of God into their life—basic. Yet meant to be more. The same verse tells us the Bible slices into our lives—“It judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”
Twitching with delight, Ricky continued his story. He asked his dad why God would reveal the B.I.B.L.E.-truth to him. He told Ricky how he had made a decision to become a follower of Jesus, “And yesterday I took the meat cleaver and chopped up all my cigarettes.”
Ricky’s dad got both. The basic: he became a follower of Jesus Christ. And he got the power to make a cutting change in his life. The double edged sword part. Chop, chop.
7/16/05
WOUNDER DEER
Our neighbor called: “There’s an injured deer in your yard.” From my office I was able to watch the deer as it moved to within 12 feet of my window. The lower quarter of its right front leg appeared to be nearly severed. An up-close view of it licking its wound gripped me with concern for the pain the deer was experiencing.
A couple of days later, my wife and I gathered around the dinner table with some of her friends. Four girls ranging in ages from 7 to 12.
I knew their stories. As my eyes circled the table, I thought: “How much pain are they experiencing?” Maria, will probably never see her father; he’s a wanted man who tried to murder her mom. Daleesha’s “out there” behavior shows magnified symptoms of fetal alcohol syndrome, Jennifer, has moved several times recently including a stay at the homeless shelter and now lives in one of the worst neighborhoods around. And Tiffany’s every action screams, “Attention starved!”
As Nancy and I talked about the girls after they were gone, she commented: “They’re wounded deer.”
A couple of days later the deer wandered into the back woods. My deer hunting friend Mark said, “It’ll be O.K.; they’re tough.”
How about the wounded deer we ate supper with?
As a throng of commotion swirled around Jesus, he stopped everything to focus his attention on some children. The Bible says: “Jesus took the children in His arms, put his hands on them and blessed them-- He spoke kind, encouraging, affirming words to them.”
And maybe it would be something like this if Jesus blessed our guests. “I love you. You have so much potential. God has a plan for your life, trust Him to guide you. I can help you; ask Me. I’ll be there for you. I care what happens to you. I bless you beautiful children.”
God, help me bless children, especially the wounded ones that the swirl of life blinds me from seeing.
A couple of days later, my wife and I gathered around the dinner table with some of her friends. Four girls ranging in ages from 7 to 12.
I knew their stories. As my eyes circled the table, I thought: “How much pain are they experiencing?” Maria, will probably never see her father; he’s a wanted man who tried to murder her mom. Daleesha’s “out there” behavior shows magnified symptoms of fetal alcohol syndrome, Jennifer, has moved several times recently including a stay at the homeless shelter and now lives in one of the worst neighborhoods around. And Tiffany’s every action screams, “Attention starved!”
As Nancy and I talked about the girls after they were gone, she commented: “They’re wounded deer.”
A couple of days later the deer wandered into the back woods. My deer hunting friend Mark said, “It’ll be O.K.; they’re tough.”
How about the wounded deer we ate supper with?
As a throng of commotion swirled around Jesus, he stopped everything to focus his attention on some children. The Bible says: “Jesus took the children in His arms, put his hands on them and blessed them-- He spoke kind, encouraging, affirming words to them.”
And maybe it would be something like this if Jesus blessed our guests. “I love you. You have so much potential. God has a plan for your life, trust Him to guide you. I can help you; ask Me. I’ll be there for you. I care what happens to you. I bless you beautiful children.”
God, help me bless children, especially the wounded ones that the swirl of life blinds me from seeing.
7/9/05
SKITTLES
“Did you mean it Christopher?” I had to know. Christopher, who could float easily from being profoundish to being off the wall, responded, “Rick, you know I did.” He was only nine, but I knew his words were truth that Friday night.
Friday night—the gathering was a seven to midnight prayer meeting. Heart felt prayers and worshipful praise music punctuated the evening.
Christopher seemed a little restless. He got up from his seat and stood at the rear of the sanctuary. I glanced back occasionally. He was doing fine, even though I did notice he was munching on candy--Skittles.
The did-you-mean-it moment came when he responded to the preacher’s invitation to accept Jesus Christ, to enter into a right standing with God. The preacher said, “Raise your hand.” I glanced back; Christopher’s hand was in the air.
After prayers of repentance were offered, I went back to Christopher. He told me, “Rick, when I came here tonight I felt hungry. And it couldn’t be satisfied by eating these.” He pointed to the Skittles he was holding. He smiled, “Now I feel satisfied.”
Jesus spoke of this type of experience during His Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed and spiritually prosperous are those who hunger and thirst for a right standing with God, for they shall be satisfied-- completely.”
And David, the masterful author of the Psalms, wrote about his personal appetite pleasing encounters with God: “My soul will be satisfied as with the richest food.”
What Jesus taught about, both Christopher and David found out personally; God has something more satisfying than Skittles.
God’s banquet table of satisfaction is in knowing Him personally. And you are invited.
Friday night—the gathering was a seven to midnight prayer meeting. Heart felt prayers and worshipful praise music punctuated the evening.
Christopher seemed a little restless. He got up from his seat and stood at the rear of the sanctuary. I glanced back occasionally. He was doing fine, even though I did notice he was munching on candy--Skittles.
The did-you-mean-it moment came when he responded to the preacher’s invitation to accept Jesus Christ, to enter into a right standing with God. The preacher said, “Raise your hand.” I glanced back; Christopher’s hand was in the air.
After prayers of repentance were offered, I went back to Christopher. He told me, “Rick, when I came here tonight I felt hungry. And it couldn’t be satisfied by eating these.” He pointed to the Skittles he was holding. He smiled, “Now I feel satisfied.”
Jesus spoke of this type of experience during His Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed and spiritually prosperous are those who hunger and thirst for a right standing with God, for they shall be satisfied-- completely.”
And David, the masterful author of the Psalms, wrote about his personal appetite pleasing encounters with God: “My soul will be satisfied as with the richest food.”
What Jesus taught about, both Christopher and David found out personally; God has something more satisfying than Skittles.
God’s banquet table of satisfaction is in knowing Him personally. And you are invited.
7/2/05
DAY OF RECKONING
The young man glanced towards his daughter and girlfriend. And then he focused his attention on the judge who had just sentenced him. Out on bond, but a police officer was waiting to take the guilty man directly from court to jail.
With an anguished look he could barely speak, “I, I need to take care of some things.” Without emotion, the judge replied: “Today is the day of reckoning.” With a help-save-me look, the man lowered his head and left with the officer.
As I drove from court to home I picked up a hitch hiker.
Tim had been in court that day also. His sentencing had been delayed because of impending heart surgery. Our rapid fire discussion soon spilled over into what might happen if the surgery turned tragic—“Are you ready to go?”
Tim appeared to be in his fifties: “I need to go see Sister Maxine.” Why’s that? “I think she’s close to God.”
Tim didn’t know if he was ready to go, but he wanted to take care of spiritual business.
The Bible states, “Man is destined to die once and after that face judgment.” A day of reckoning.
Tim had a bag full of spiritual experiences- he kept pulling them out during our ten minute drive. Baptism, vacation Bible school, a godly mother, and intermittent church attendance.
Still he was reaching for more. Facing heart surgery and the what-if possibility, he was also experiencing spiritual heart surgery. Tim concluded his life would eventually terminate with a gavel thumping, that’s-it, final judgment.
The judge in court that day wearily looked down at a stack of paperwork. Looking up, he gave his final remark to the guilty man: “People are never ready to go.”
I disagree. A person can be ready, confidently ready and worry free. With Jesus . . . there’s hope Tim.
With an anguished look he could barely speak, “I, I need to take care of some things.” Without emotion, the judge replied: “Today is the day of reckoning.” With a help-save-me look, the man lowered his head and left with the officer.
As I drove from court to home I picked up a hitch hiker.
Tim had been in court that day also. His sentencing had been delayed because of impending heart surgery. Our rapid fire discussion soon spilled over into what might happen if the surgery turned tragic—“Are you ready to go?”
Tim appeared to be in his fifties: “I need to go see Sister Maxine.” Why’s that? “I think she’s close to God.”
Tim didn’t know if he was ready to go, but he wanted to take care of spiritual business.
The Bible states, “Man is destined to die once and after that face judgment.” A day of reckoning.
Tim had a bag full of spiritual experiences- he kept pulling them out during our ten minute drive. Baptism, vacation Bible school, a godly mother, and intermittent church attendance.
Still he was reaching for more. Facing heart surgery and the what-if possibility, he was also experiencing spiritual heart surgery. Tim concluded his life would eventually terminate with a gavel thumping, that’s-it, final judgment.
The judge in court that day wearily looked down at a stack of paperwork. Looking up, he gave his final remark to the guilty man: “People are never ready to go.”
I disagree. A person can be ready, confidently ready and worry free. With Jesus . . . there’s hope Tim.
6/25/05
MY BIG BUCK
Bang! I had an eight point buck. The broad shouldered beast sprung from the tall corn surprising me as it broke through a thin veil of early morning fog. What a trophy!
It was a prize any hunter would be proud of. But I wasn’t smiling. I had rammed the deer with my van as it bolted across the road.
Less than 45 seconds before impact, I was at a crossroads. Either right or left would have taken me to my morning destination—my friend Robert’s house. I almost went left. I turned right.
My van was drivable; I wasn’t hurt. And somebody even came by who needed the meat. So I continued my travels.
When I arrived at Robert’s house and told him what happened, he started laughing. Resisting the temptation to punch him, I listened. He told me how he had suddenly woken up that morning, feeling he was supposed to pray that I would have a safe journey.
Instead, he went back to sleep.
Why didn’t you pray? He replied, “I figured you knew how to drive.”
I did. The deer didn’t . . . thanks Robert.
Would his prayer have prevented the accident, changed my direction at my crossroads?
Obviously, there’s nothing that says: “Thus saith the Lord, pray and the buck won’t be struck.” More importantly we should ask: “What role does prayer play in my life when I’m at a crossroads?”
The Bible says, “Do not be anxious about anything.” That seems impossible—especially at the crossroads. It continues: “But in everything, by prayer; earnest, pleading prayers mixed with thanksgiving present your urgent requests to God.”
And then the impossible happens: “And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your heart and mind . . .”
Now that’s a trophy; that’s what we need when we collide with obstacles at the crossroads of our lives.
It was a prize any hunter would be proud of. But I wasn’t smiling. I had rammed the deer with my van as it bolted across the road.
Less than 45 seconds before impact, I was at a crossroads. Either right or left would have taken me to my morning destination—my friend Robert’s house. I almost went left. I turned right.
My van was drivable; I wasn’t hurt. And somebody even came by who needed the meat. So I continued my travels.
When I arrived at Robert’s house and told him what happened, he started laughing. Resisting the temptation to punch him, I listened. He told me how he had suddenly woken up that morning, feeling he was supposed to pray that I would have a safe journey.
Instead, he went back to sleep.
Why didn’t you pray? He replied, “I figured you knew how to drive.”
I did. The deer didn’t . . . thanks Robert.
Would his prayer have prevented the accident, changed my direction at my crossroads?
Obviously, there’s nothing that says: “Thus saith the Lord, pray and the buck won’t be struck.” More importantly we should ask: “What role does prayer play in my life when I’m at a crossroads?”
The Bible says, “Do not be anxious about anything.” That seems impossible—especially at the crossroads. It continues: “But in everything, by prayer; earnest, pleading prayers mixed with thanksgiving present your urgent requests to God.”
And then the impossible happens: “And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your heart and mind . . .”
Now that’s a trophy; that’s what we need when we collide with obstacles at the crossroads of our lives.
6/18/05
HUGE STINKY
“The cats had a huge stinky mess today,” the note laying on the kitchen countertop informed me. My wife’s scribbling allowed my mind to easily grasp what to expect in our cat’s basement domain. This wasn’t the first time; it seems to be more frequent as our cats, Timmons and Ruby, head toward their twilight years.
Jokingly I asked my wife, “Remind me again, why do we have cats?” She alluded to their great mice catching ability. Then she said, “The cats are like relatives, you can’t get rid of them.”
Oh.
Huge stinky relative problems go back to history’s first family when Cain murdered his brother Abel. From small squabbles to all out war, the family continues to be a battleground. We even have TV shows with family woes being the main theme.
Most messy family situations start out small. Let’s consider what you and I can do to keep them from becoming huge stinky messes.
While this is a complex, multi-faceted issue; the question of forgiveness will certainly swirl in the mix. Jesus was approached by someone who was willing to forgive “up to seven times” a relative who had wronged him. Generous, since the Jewish Rabbis of the day taught that forgiveness should not be extended beyond three times.
Jesus replied, “I tell you not seven times but seven times seventy.” The point- He wasn’t actually setting the limit at 490, but illustrating endless forgiveness.
Even forgiving a person once can be gut wrenchingly difficult. It was kind of like when I went to clean up the cat’s huge stinky. As I kneeled on the floor with a rag wiping up the smelly mess, the stench tensed my stomach.
And sometimes we need to bend to our knees with a white cloth and wipe clean a huge stinky relative problem.
We need to forgive. And let your white cloth be forgiveness in the manner Jesus prescribed—“From your heart.”
Jokingly I asked my wife, “Remind me again, why do we have cats?” She alluded to their great mice catching ability. Then she said, “The cats are like relatives, you can’t get rid of them.”
Oh.
Huge stinky relative problems go back to history’s first family when Cain murdered his brother Abel. From small squabbles to all out war, the family continues to be a battleground. We even have TV shows with family woes being the main theme.
Most messy family situations start out small. Let’s consider what you and I can do to keep them from becoming huge stinky messes.
While this is a complex, multi-faceted issue; the question of forgiveness will certainly swirl in the mix. Jesus was approached by someone who was willing to forgive “up to seven times” a relative who had wronged him. Generous, since the Jewish Rabbis of the day taught that forgiveness should not be extended beyond three times.
Jesus replied, “I tell you not seven times but seven times seventy.” The point- He wasn’t actually setting the limit at 490, but illustrating endless forgiveness.
Even forgiving a person once can be gut wrenchingly difficult. It was kind of like when I went to clean up the cat’s huge stinky. As I kneeled on the floor with a rag wiping up the smelly mess, the stench tensed my stomach.
And sometimes we need to bend to our knees with a white cloth and wipe clean a huge stinky relative problem.
We need to forgive. And let your white cloth be forgiveness in the manner Jesus prescribed—“From your heart.”
6/11/05
COTTAGE CHEESE
The words danced out of her mouth: “Momma and grandma are number one, Jesus is number two and cottage cheese is number three” While fueling herself with the white milky curds, eleven year old Sharnae shared her philosophy of life.
Immediately, her brother Robert protested, “Cottage cheese can’t be number three!” His choice for number three-- it had to be family. He did concede that cottage cheese could rank fourth in her life.
I protest also. For the record I place Jesus as number one. And cottage cheese as the number three priority in life or even number four?-- no way. That slot should be for pizza.
Or nachos, or barbequed chicken, or your favorite food.
Let’s be real. I love good food; you love good food. But, I need to move it down the list.
The Bible talks often about food, with one of the more peculiar references being the diet of John the Baptist. He subsisted on locust and wild honey—that’s it. According to Jesus, there was no greater man than John the Baptist. Yet, did he eat a great man’s diet?
The Bible has these diet adjusting, tasty words: “I will praise God as long as I live, and in God’s name I will lift my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest foods.”
Praising God, that was John’s diet for a great man.
Immediately, her brother Robert protested, “Cottage cheese can’t be number three!” His choice for number three-- it had to be family. He did concede that cottage cheese could rank fourth in her life.
I protest also. For the record I place Jesus as number one. And cottage cheese as the number three priority in life or even number four?-- no way. That slot should be for pizza.
Or nachos, or barbequed chicken, or your favorite food.
Let’s be real. I love good food; you love good food. But, I need to move it down the list.
The Bible talks often about food, with one of the more peculiar references being the diet of John the Baptist. He subsisted on locust and wild honey—that’s it. According to Jesus, there was no greater man than John the Baptist. Yet, did he eat a great man’s diet?
The Bible has these diet adjusting, tasty words: “I will praise God as long as I live, and in God’s name I will lift my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest foods.”
Praising God, that was John’s diet for a great man.
6/4/05
GYPSY
“Death like a Gypsy comes to steal everything precious . . .” Those were the last words I heard as I flicked off the radio, dashing out the door heading to work.
En route the radio in my head was on continual play—“Death like a
Gypsy . . .” I couldn’t shake the words I had heard on that Christian radio station. The musician had created a simple word formula—death equals Gypsy, Gypsy equals thief. Kind of catchy, unless your ethnic heritage is Gypsy.
I still remember the pointing-fingers-behind-the-back talk when a Gypsy girl attended my school briefly when I was in eighth grade. Was her greatest fault she was born a Gypsy?
I knew nothing about gypsies; I had no true understanding of their history or culture. I didn’t know their heritage included devastating prejudice since arriving in Europe seven hundred years ago or the fact that over a million Gypsies were executed during the Holocaust. Or even the fact that until 1994 there were anti-Gypsy laws on the books in the U.S., including making it illegal for a Gypsy to own a home.
Kids can be so cruel—with their words . . . and then we become adults.
One of the songs in the Bible has these lyrics: “Hear this, all you people of the world; both humble and exalted, rich and poor alike. My mouth will speak wise words; the utterance of my heart, my inner man will be intelligent understanding.”
It’s a song; it’s a proclamation; it’s a choice.
God, help me to speak wise words and give me intelligent understanding of people different than myself.
En route the radio in my head was on continual play—“Death like a
Gypsy . . .” I couldn’t shake the words I had heard on that Christian radio station. The musician had created a simple word formula—death equals Gypsy, Gypsy equals thief. Kind of catchy, unless your ethnic heritage is Gypsy.
I still remember the pointing-fingers-behind-the-back talk when a Gypsy girl attended my school briefly when I was in eighth grade. Was her greatest fault she was born a Gypsy?
I knew nothing about gypsies; I had no true understanding of their history or culture. I didn’t know their heritage included devastating prejudice since arriving in Europe seven hundred years ago or the fact that over a million Gypsies were executed during the Holocaust. Or even the fact that until 1994 there were anti-Gypsy laws on the books in the U.S., including making it illegal for a Gypsy to own a home.
Kids can be so cruel—with their words . . . and then we become adults.
One of the songs in the Bible has these lyrics: “Hear this, all you people of the world; both humble and exalted, rich and poor alike. My mouth will speak wise words; the utterance of my heart, my inner man will be intelligent understanding.”
It’s a song; it’s a proclamation; it’s a choice.
God, help me to speak wise words and give me intelligent understanding of people different than myself.
5/30/05
Mr. Smiley Face Lives Here
“Why do you have Mr. Smiley Face hanging in the window?” laughed eight year old Jackie. It must seem strange. My wife had brought another one home; they’re all over the house—Mr. Smiley faces.
You know what his yellow-faced grin looks like. This two-foot tall version with blue legs and arms, wearing pink smiley face emblazoned shoes was pretty much over the edge in the sane home décor category. Hanging there in the living room window in a fish net, he’s a comment magnet.
I don’t particularly like all the smiley faces; they’re O.K., but I love what they symbolize.
In her early 40’s my wife suffered with illness and depression—nothing to smile about. She searched for relief from doctors, psychologists, and self help books.
A psychologist said, “You need to explore the spiritual side of life.” Her initial reaction to me: “That’s stupid; I just want my health back. I want to be happy.”
Then while searching for self-help books at the library, she “accidentally” picked up a Christian book. An inner journey was sparked. A Bible verse in the book became her beacon of hope: “This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.”
The journey was long. And then one day she found what she was looking for; she found Jesus.
Mr. Smiley Face symbolizes the joy she discovered.
I smiled and looked at Jackie. I told her the eight-year-old’s version of Mr. Smiley Face’s residence at our home-- “Smile, Jesus loves you.”
You know what his yellow-faced grin looks like. This two-foot tall version with blue legs and arms, wearing pink smiley face emblazoned shoes was pretty much over the edge in the sane home décor category. Hanging there in the living room window in a fish net, he’s a comment magnet.
I don’t particularly like all the smiley faces; they’re O.K., but I love what they symbolize.
In her early 40’s my wife suffered with illness and depression—nothing to smile about. She searched for relief from doctors, psychologists, and self help books.
A psychologist said, “You need to explore the spiritual side of life.” Her initial reaction to me: “That’s stupid; I just want my health back. I want to be happy.”
Then while searching for self-help books at the library, she “accidentally” picked up a Christian book. An inner journey was sparked. A Bible verse in the book became her beacon of hope: “This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.”
The journey was long. And then one day she found what she was looking for; she found Jesus.
Mr. Smiley Face symbolizes the joy she discovered.
I smiled and looked at Jackie. I told her the eight-year-old’s version of Mr. Smiley Face’s residence at our home-- “Smile, Jesus loves you.”
5/21/05
MUITO BOM
When he touched my hand, he touched my heart.
My destination was the prayer chapel-- that’s where my focus was. Walking across the missionary compound, a small hand found my hand, unexpectedly I has holding hands with one of the orphans who lived there.
I was thousands of miles from home, just off the east coast of Africa; the affection was welcomed.
I stumbled through some elementary conversation which consisted more of gestures and smiles than of the Portuguese language. Name and age are always easy to interpret. My new friend was ten year old Fanuel.
I struggled to communicate. “Father?” No. “Mother?” No. With his answers, sadness came over Fanuel’s face that pierced my heart. He turned, looking away from me.
Now what do I say? What do I say to a child whose parents are probably dead? A child who has probably lived on the streets and is hoping to bury these unpleasant, haunting memories.
I prayed silently, “God help me.”
“Fanuel” I said. He looked at me. God let my eyes communicate love: “Fanuel, es muito bom.” Translation: Fanuel is very good.
He almost started crying; so did I.
The simple phrase: “Fanuel is very good” impacted him in a way I never could have imagined. Later as I thought over his reaction, I realized that I may have been the only person in his life to ever tell him he was good.
The wisdom of the Bible says, “Pleasant words are as dripping honey, sweet to the soul.”
Two and a half weeks later, I hugged Fanuel and gently rubbed his short, bristly hair. I kneeled in the sand, looking him in the eyes for the last time: “Fanuel es muito bom.” I smiled inside as I saw the sweetness in his soul.
My destination was the prayer chapel-- that’s where my focus was. Walking across the missionary compound, a small hand found my hand, unexpectedly I has holding hands with one of the orphans who lived there.
I was thousands of miles from home, just off the east coast of Africa; the affection was welcomed.
I stumbled through some elementary conversation which consisted more of gestures and smiles than of the Portuguese language. Name and age are always easy to interpret. My new friend was ten year old Fanuel.
I struggled to communicate. “Father?” No. “Mother?” No. With his answers, sadness came over Fanuel’s face that pierced my heart. He turned, looking away from me.
Now what do I say? What do I say to a child whose parents are probably dead? A child who has probably lived on the streets and is hoping to bury these unpleasant, haunting memories.
I prayed silently, “God help me.”
“Fanuel” I said. He looked at me. God let my eyes communicate love: “Fanuel, es muito bom.” Translation: Fanuel is very good.
He almost started crying; so did I.
The simple phrase: “Fanuel is very good” impacted him in a way I never could have imagined. Later as I thought over his reaction, I realized that I may have been the only person in his life to ever tell him he was good.
The wisdom of the Bible says, “Pleasant words are as dripping honey, sweet to the soul.”
Two and a half weeks later, I hugged Fanuel and gently rubbed his short, bristly hair. I kneeled in the sand, looking him in the eyes for the last time: “Fanuel es muito bom.” I smiled inside as I saw the sweetness in his soul.
5/14/05
STRANGER
I’m inept when it comes to working on cars.
As I looked across the street I had a hands-and-feet view of someone working on their car up by the front wheel. I couldn’t tell what the problem was, but even with obscured observation I knew the breakdown was more involved than changing a flat.
I watched for a couple of minutes; the inner voice said, “Go see if the person needs help.” My mind went to all the things I needed to get done and my lack of even a cell phone to offer. Still, I knew the voice.
“Do you need help?” I asked. “Sure,” the stout, fortysomething lady responded. “It’s kind of embarrassing being on Main St. fixing your car.”
She was greasy. Two jacks were under the car. Her make-do tools were scattered around as she attempted to fix her rusty 1983 Chevy.
We pried and pounded and pried some more. And pounded some more. Finally she kicked the hub and the ball joint slipped into place. She put the tire back on. Then she tried to start the car--- the battery was dead. We put some jumper cables on; the car wouldn’t start. One of the battery terminals started to smoke. Oops! I had installed the clamps on the wrong terminals.
Frustrating. It would make a person want to scream.
Yet during the whole fiasco, this lady never raised her voice, she never complained, and she never showed anxiety or frustration. Her demeanor was peaceful—like an angel. Even when she kicked the misaligned hub into place, she was purposeful and gracious.
Finally, the car started. She shook my hand, thanked me, and even tried to give me the little bit of money she had before driving off.
Still pondering the experience that evening; I received an e-mail with this Bible verse: “Don’t forget to be kind to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!”
Was the lady an angel? Probably not. But . . .
As I looked across the street I had a hands-and-feet view of someone working on their car up by the front wheel. I couldn’t tell what the problem was, but even with obscured observation I knew the breakdown was more involved than changing a flat.
I watched for a couple of minutes; the inner voice said, “Go see if the person needs help.” My mind went to all the things I needed to get done and my lack of even a cell phone to offer. Still, I knew the voice.
“Do you need help?” I asked. “Sure,” the stout, fortysomething lady responded. “It’s kind of embarrassing being on Main St. fixing your car.”
She was greasy. Two jacks were under the car. Her make-do tools were scattered around as she attempted to fix her rusty 1983 Chevy.
We pried and pounded and pried some more. And pounded some more. Finally she kicked the hub and the ball joint slipped into place. She put the tire back on. Then she tried to start the car--- the battery was dead. We put some jumper cables on; the car wouldn’t start. One of the battery terminals started to smoke. Oops! I had installed the clamps on the wrong terminals.
Frustrating. It would make a person want to scream.
Yet during the whole fiasco, this lady never raised her voice, she never complained, and she never showed anxiety or frustration. Her demeanor was peaceful—like an angel. Even when she kicked the misaligned hub into place, she was purposeful and gracious.
Finally, the car started. She shook my hand, thanked me, and even tried to give me the little bit of money she had before driving off.
Still pondering the experience that evening; I received an e-mail with this Bible verse: “Don’t forget to be kind to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!”
Was the lady an angel? Probably not. But . . .
4/30/05
POLARIZED
"Are they polarized?" I asked the optometrist helping me select new sunglass.
Good, that's what I want.
Later I ran a dictionary word search through my brain. "What does polarized mean?" Besides some vague conceptual thoughts, I was blind to any usable meaning.
Yet in my good-better-best conquest, I instinctively knew I wanted polarized sunglasses.
The word "polarized" stimulated my "desire" glands to salivate. From trinkets to twenty-year mortgage purchases, I'm vulnerable.
So are you.
Rich, wise Solomon, who lived thousands of years before the mall experience, understood. His words: "As goods increase so do those who consume them, and what benefit are they to the owner except to feast his eyes on them."
I bought the sunglasses. They're great.
But I know I need to guard what I feast my eyes on. I need to remove my polarized I-want-it sunglasses and see the light of the truth. I need to understand what's really important-- today, tomorrow, and for eternity.
What do I need to keep my eyes on? What does my life really stand for? Solomon had the prescription when he said, "Stand in awe of God."
Stand with me.
Good, that's what I want.
Later I ran a dictionary word search through my brain. "What does polarized mean?" Besides some vague conceptual thoughts, I was blind to any usable meaning.
Yet in my good-better-best conquest, I instinctively knew I wanted polarized sunglasses.
The word "polarized" stimulated my "desire" glands to salivate. From trinkets to twenty-year mortgage purchases, I'm vulnerable.
So are you.
Rich, wise Solomon, who lived thousands of years before the mall experience, understood. His words: "As goods increase so do those who consume them, and what benefit are they to the owner except to feast his eyes on them."
I bought the sunglasses. They're great.
But I know I need to guard what I feast my eyes on. I need to remove my polarized I-want-it sunglasses and see the light of the truth. I need to understand what's really important-- today, tomorrow, and for eternity.
What do I need to keep my eyes on? What does my life really stand for? Solomon had the prescription when he said, "Stand in awe of God."
Stand with me.
4/23/05
WASHED-UP
Bill grinned, "Jesus is washed up." His comment on the painting launched my indignant mind into a multitude of directions to offer a quick counter response. But I was silent. We turned, taking another look at the unsigned, untitled painting at the art gallery.
The splashy watercolor depicted a laundromat scene. In the painting a mom and son were standing inches away from an array of front load, glass doored washers. Mom diligently focused on her laundering duties at the upper level washers, while her son stood eye level to the lower washers.
The scene portrayed a peculiarity. The son stared intently at one of the glass faced washers as if he has looking into a mirror. Instead of his reflection, there was the image of Jesus-- He appeared to be inside the washer.
Even though mom and son were standing close, they seemed to be in different worlds.
Just like them, my companion and I stood close; yet we were a million miles apart in our spiritual worlds. I am a follower of Jesus. He is not.
The Bible talks about this great gulf: "An unspiritual man does not accept the spiritual things, things of God, for they are foolishness to him; and he cannot understand them."
For my companion, who I consider a good friend, his mind has not pierced the part of my world which gives my life substance and meaning. Without Jesus in my life, I would be washed-up.
I turned to my friend and offered my appraisal of the painting: "Jesus washes away sins."
The splashy watercolor depicted a laundromat scene. In the painting a mom and son were standing inches away from an array of front load, glass doored washers. Mom diligently focused on her laundering duties at the upper level washers, while her son stood eye level to the lower washers.
The scene portrayed a peculiarity. The son stared intently at one of the glass faced washers as if he has looking into a mirror. Instead of his reflection, there was the image of Jesus-- He appeared to be inside the washer.
Even though mom and son were standing close, they seemed to be in different worlds.
Just like them, my companion and I stood close; yet we were a million miles apart in our spiritual worlds. I am a follower of Jesus. He is not.
The Bible talks about this great gulf: "An unspiritual man does not accept the spiritual things, things of God, for they are foolishness to him; and he cannot understand them."
For my companion, who I consider a good friend, his mind has not pierced the part of my world which gives my life substance and meaning. Without Jesus in my life, I would be washed-up.
I turned to my friend and offered my appraisal of the painting: "Jesus washes away sins."
4/16/05
GRACE WITHERS
It wasn't a booming, "Thus saith the LORD," but there was a still small voice saying, "stop."
I had commuted past the cemetery dozens of times in the previous few months. Located on a tree skirted nub overlooking a farm pond, it seemed like an idyllic final resting place.
Strolling the tiny cemetery, communing with God, I read each grave marker. Still no distinct sense of why my journey was interrupted. So I concluded God was offering me a respite from my always-on-the-go schedule. The weather was absolutely perfect; I felt at peace. I was thankful for the break.
Wait. I missed four grave stones in the far corner.
When I looked down on the second one, my heart started beating a little faster. The tombstone's "1919-1919" etching spoke of anguished tears cried on the spot I stood. Is there any greater pain than losing a baby? Yet, God used her to give me a message.
Her name: Grace Withers.
"God, You're right, grace withers." We let Your grace, your divine influence on our hearts; slip, slide, and totally exit our lives.
An antidote to our grace withering is grace growing.
One of Jesus' closest disciples, Peter, wrote a letter to struggling Christians of his era. He knowingly challenged, "Grow in grace."
My friend Robert, who was a new Christian, gave me his plucked-out-of-the-dictionary, untheological definition of Biblical grace. "Smooth refined motion."
Pretty good Robert. Can I add? Let us grow in smooth refined motion-- thoughts, words, and deeds.
I had commuted past the cemetery dozens of times in the previous few months. Located on a tree skirted nub overlooking a farm pond, it seemed like an idyllic final resting place.
Strolling the tiny cemetery, communing with God, I read each grave marker. Still no distinct sense of why my journey was interrupted. So I concluded God was offering me a respite from my always-on-the-go schedule. The weather was absolutely perfect; I felt at peace. I was thankful for the break.
Wait. I missed four grave stones in the far corner.
When I looked down on the second one, my heart started beating a little faster. The tombstone's "1919-1919" etching spoke of anguished tears cried on the spot I stood. Is there any greater pain than losing a baby? Yet, God used her to give me a message.
Her name: Grace Withers.
"God, You're right, grace withers." We let Your grace, your divine influence on our hearts; slip, slide, and totally exit our lives.
An antidote to our grace withering is grace growing.
One of Jesus' closest disciples, Peter, wrote a letter to struggling Christians of his era. He knowingly challenged, "Grow in grace."
My friend Robert, who was a new Christian, gave me his plucked-out-of-the-dictionary, untheological definition of Biblical grace. "Smooth refined motion."
Pretty good Robert. Can I add? Let us grow in smooth refined motion-- thoughts, words, and deeds.
4/9/05
CAN MAN
The oversized car crept into the nearly abandoned park. Distracted from my early morning on-the-go Bible study, I watched as the driver sprang from his well-worn ride. He looked a little worn himself.
He quickly went from trash can to trash can searching for aluminum pop cans. Their ten cent deposit, which is a nuisance to many people, was the can man's mission.
I thought--"I bet he lives in his car." I've seen his type before.
In anticipation of the can man asking for money, I had prepared a guarded response. He immediately approached me.
The can man plowed right into telling me his story-- he was excited. He told me he was collecting the cans for his kid's college education one dime at a time. He was determined: "My kids are going to college; they're definitely going to college." His next words left me hanging from the gallows of my condemning thoughts. "I don't care what people think."
Arguably the most wrongly judged person in history, Jesus, said: "Stop judging by mere appearance."
Guilty . . . My misjudgment still grips, taunts and thankfully reminds me.
Jesus concluded His thought: "Make right judgments." In less than two minutes of conversation with the Can Man my compass of judgment pointed to truth-- right judgment.
Go for it Can Man!
He quickly went from trash can to trash can searching for aluminum pop cans. Their ten cent deposit, which is a nuisance to many people, was the can man's mission.
I thought--"I bet he lives in his car." I've seen his type before.
In anticipation of the can man asking for money, I had prepared a guarded response. He immediately approached me.
The can man plowed right into telling me his story-- he was excited. He told me he was collecting the cans for his kid's college education one dime at a time. He was determined: "My kids are going to college; they're definitely going to college." His next words left me hanging from the gallows of my condemning thoughts. "I don't care what people think."
Arguably the most wrongly judged person in history, Jesus, said: "Stop judging by mere appearance."
Guilty . . . My misjudgment still grips, taunts and thankfully reminds me.
Jesus concluded His thought: "Make right judgments." In less than two minutes of conversation with the Can Man my compass of judgment pointed to truth-- right judgment.
Go for it Can Man!
4/2/05
Stupid Haircut
STUPID HAIRCUT
"Your haircut looks stupid," my seventeen year old friend said as he hopped into my car. I kind of liked it. It was a utilitarian quarter-inch buzz cut.
I scrunched my face, "What do you mean stupid?" I reminded him that I'd seen him with a similar cut. My friend explained. Besides the fact that he was better looking than me, I didn't have and sideburns-- zero. The two missing patches hair the size of a postage stamp sent me into the stupid haircut category. Yet I was so close.
Like many things in life-- so close.
The intimate desire to have a God-life, a spiritual life is shelved in the so-close department of many people's lives. Their thirst is never quenched because they never reach out to grab the refreshment their souls need.
Someone recently told me, "I haven't found a church yet." Have you looked? He's thinking about looking; he's thought about seeking God. He's thought about reading his Bible. So close.
God notices. The Scriptures say, "God looks down from heaven upon people to see if there are any who understand Him, any who seek Him.
I think my young friend was right. I grew sideburns. After all, I don't need to toss another clump on the so-close heap in my life.
And you? God's looking. And waiting.
"Your haircut looks stupid," my seventeen year old friend said as he hopped into my car. I kind of liked it. It was a utilitarian quarter-inch buzz cut.
I scrunched my face, "What do you mean stupid?" I reminded him that I'd seen him with a similar cut. My friend explained. Besides the fact that he was better looking than me, I didn't have and sideburns-- zero. The two missing patches hair the size of a postage stamp sent me into the stupid haircut category. Yet I was so close.
Like many things in life-- so close.
The intimate desire to have a God-life, a spiritual life is shelved in the so-close department of many people's lives. Their thirst is never quenched because they never reach out to grab the refreshment their souls need.
Someone recently told me, "I haven't found a church yet." Have you looked? He's thinking about looking; he's thought about seeking God. He's thought about reading his Bible. So close.
God notices. The Scriptures say, "God looks down from heaven upon people to see if there are any who understand Him, any who seek Him.
I think my young friend was right. I grew sideburns. After all, I don't need to toss another clump on the so-close heap in my life.
And you? God's looking. And waiting.
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