Poem for a Friend

Here is a poem I wrote for a great friend of mine. She was a co-worker for many years in a private Christian school. She taught English. When she was the students' teacher, they hated her strict adherence to form and grammar. Later, they lauded her teaching style and its effect on each of them. She is still a blessing to me and I thought you might like to get to know her.

In Honor of Jan Meadows

She’s a vixen, a harpy, a raptor,
When it come to words.
Nay the rapier and foil are insufficient for her labor.
Give her the mighty claymore to slash
And hew the hopeful’s prose.

And yet, though honored not in sync
With their moment
They all fall in capitulation to her power
With admiration for the very thrashing
They received at her hand.

O hark unto me, you who know not her acumen.
May all give her glory who have known
Her whip, her lash, her work of love.
She is the wonder of a woman
From the fields, rhetorically speaking.

Sorry

That's what I am, sorry. I have not been writing much here because I have been working on my book. So, as an update, I plan to finish my little opus by the end of this year and begin the process of shopping it out.

So here is a poem of sorts to offer you something.

I have heard it said
Love is the fulfillment of the law.
In fact, it overshadows its power
Its end, its inevitable night
For those who fall under it.

I have heard it said
Love should be without hypocrisy
Notwithstanding, we struggle in these
Selfish bodies to see this played out,
Being so only in Christ.

I have heard it said
Love covers a multitude of sin.
As if this were news to the lovelorn
World who cries out desperately for a lover
To love them, yet whom they reject.

I have heard it said
Love is the only real debt we owe.
Perhaps the selfish, hideous person
I am can one day see the debt
Fulfilled in all I do, honestly.

I have heard it said
Love is the greatest of all virtues.
In fact, it is the only one, without doubt
That stands through time and space
And bows not to God for it is He.

Suffering vs. Everything

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us." Romans 8:18 NASB

I am a worm of a man. I do not do what I would like to do and the things I do I struggle with them. I not only feel like Paul did in the chapter before the above verse, I think I have taken on his plight and perfected it. And oh how I suffer.

I suffer as a wimpy man, not able to do the right. I suffer as a worldly man, always about pleasing myself. I even suffer as a committed, obedient Christian. Wow, I can't get away from it! And by the way, if it isn't I who suffers, it is someone I love and for whom I care. Why do we have to struggle so?

I have observed that the usually good folk tend to get the backhand from the world. They try to bless and be a blessing and the world says, "No!" I watch the tender get tenderized, the giver get taken, and the friend get fried. Why would anyone want to be good, say good, or do good?

Yet in the context of this passage, the overriding theme is that God has given us hope in Christ for the future and even for the right stinking now. Who can come against His chosen ones, effectively? God is for us, it says. He has called us to a higher calling, so if we experience downturns, sufferings, loss, we still have hope.

I just went to a church service in Mesa, AZ and heard a testimony of a gal who got in an auto accident almost 15 years ago. The accident left her paralyzed from the neck down. Her husband dumped her, her body was ruined, and her future looked bleak at best. Yet there she was proclaiming the above verse's truth in the midst of her trauma. She boldly stated that the blessing in it all was her trauma bringing her to the place of receiving Christ's love. She was saved to serve in pain and loss, but she now knew a better way in a crippled body than she could have known in a health one. Jesus really has a better EVERYTHING.

So I say shut up to myself and suck it up Christian and know we are not lost in space. I am probably just speaking to myself.

When Were You Saved?

That was the question I asked my Dad this morning at our breakfast conference. I say conference because we have been having these kind of conversations ever since I came to stay with them during my sabbatical. I don't want to seem ungrateful at any level. I am enjoying immensely these daily talks.

"When were you saved?" I asked.

This simple question, and one which is often asked between Christian people, sparked a lively discussion concerning salvation, what it means, how it is expressed, and the significance all that has in this world. My father and I traded profound Biblical positions intertwined with our own brand of witticism. I am sure that anyone who knows us knows how serious, fun and rude that could be at the same time.

Needless to say, Grandma had to stop us from taking the whole morning on the subject we broached with that simple question.

For me, it was in the summer of 1976 at about 3 am. I was talking with my friend, Tom Jackson, when he asked me "What is keeping you from asking Jesus into your life?" After saying yes to Christ, My life has never been the same and I know that I am saved by His most wonderful grace to me.

Truth

"What then? If some did not believe, their unbelief will not nullify the faithfulness of God, will it? May it never be! Rather, let God be found true, though every man be found a liar..." Rom. 3:3-4 NASB

God is God. It is such an easy thing to say and from our perspective can be said very flippantly. For if God is God and His word is true, as He is, then there is a mandate hurled at each and every one of us. Will we obey that word or not? And our response, either affirmative or not, can never "nullify" the truth that God is God and we are obligated to that truth.

I think we Christians really like this idea when everything is going our way and our lives have no challenges presented to our faith. But oh how we squirm when this truth remains true, even when we want something else.

The Journey

I have heard it said that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I am sure this is a sage saying and one that I truly believe. Really, if you don't step out, you will go nowhere.

Our journey to Nogales was not a thousand miles, but significant nonetheless. We started out on Sunday after church, planning to go as far as we could before we got tired or some other impediment got in our way.

Tiredness set in about St. George and we finally stopped in Mesquite for the night. We got up and ate breakfast to go on our way to Nogales that day. We got outside of Las Vegas and were just entering Boulder City (and over the Hoover dam) when our car stopped running turning a corner toward the dam.

I was able to pull the car over to the side and restart it, when I noticed the check engine light had turned on. We drove to a gas station to check it out and determined after visiting a auto parts store that we needed to have Nissan look at it.

We returned to Las Vegas to a dealership on that side of the town. There they told us we could get it fixed, but not until the next morning. We realized we weren't going anywhere so left it for the night and holed up in LV.

We finally got back on the road the following day (Tuesday) and arrived in Nogales safe and sound. We did arrive later than we had hoped, but we did arrive.

This sort of messed up our schedule for our stay in Arizona, but we were glad that the car had a problem so close to a large city and not out in the Northern Arizona desert.

The Greatest Triumphs

I don't think I will ever forget the message given by the director of the sports ministry of Campus Crusade for Christ (AIA) in the summer of 1979. We were at what was called the Institute for Biblical Studies at the Colorado State University, Fort Collins. During that time, my goal was to go to the institute and the subsequent CCC staff training. I had come on staff as an athlete with Athletes In Action's soccer team.

The director for the ministry shared with us the story of Israel and their entrance to the promised land from the wilderness, through Jericho, into the battle at Ai. His main point was that in the ebb and flow of the Christian's experience, the greatest triumphs follow the greatest defeats, and the greatest defeats tend to follow the greatest triumphs.

He used the picture given in the Old Testament of Israel leaving the "defeat" of the wilderness to present themselves faithful before God in doing the command He had given for them as they assaulted Jericho by faith. Following their Lord, they had a victory that by all standards should not have occurred. Miraculously the walls fell and the nation of Israel won the city, clearly, by the power of God.

From that "victory," Israel decided to do it their way against the much smaller and less defended city of Ai. As the story goes, they relied on their on power and wisdom and were soundly defeated by the defenders of Ai.

The messenger at that conference relayed to us that without a consistent reliance on the saving power and guidance of the Lord, we will continue a cycle of victory and defeat. And this cycle, if not short circuited, will lead us eventually to question the very power of God and God Himself. We must, according to him, present ourselves everyday in submission to His power, His wisdom, His grace, and His love if we are to see consistent victories in our lives.

I was reminded of that today as I confront my own victories and defeats. Oh Lord, forgive me my shallow life, relying on my own wisdom and not Yours. Help me to run to You and You alone for the things that I need and help me to see again Your way over mine.

God's people

I just finished trying to encourage a set of God's people who have come to mean a lot to me in my ten years at my church.

The teaching corps of my church's Bible study ministry are a group of people who truly exemplify God's fulfilled promise to teach us all things. Their commitment to the task of sharing the truth about Jesus and encouraging their classes to live it out is a great blessing to me. It is especially so as I prepare for my sabbatical. I know I will leave my church's Bible ministry in capable hands.

My prayer is that they will sense His presence and power as they endeavor to be what He has called them to be. May He allow them the privilege of seeing His hand clearly at work through them.

It's nice to know He answers us.

Strings

I have been watching my grand-daughter move all around the floor like a windup toy. In fact, her crawling not only is speedy, it is also very noisy. She almost laughs as she motors around the house. I am sure it is sheer joy!

One of the things that she is now getting "into" is the fringe of ANY article of clothing, rug, or other type of woven thing. She is enamored with the strings hanging off of whatever it may be. They catch in her fingers and she loves it!

Strings. Those hangy-downy things do seem to catch on things and you have to be careful because of them (in the case of my g-daughter it is all about in the mouth with the strings).

As I prepare for my sabbatical, I have discovered all the loose strings that I have and to make sure they don't catch on anything. I have them everywhere. To be sure, they are a sign of my being too spread out. As I get ready to go, they remind me how I need to parry down my life to something more manageable and God honoring with my time.

One way to take care of the strings in my grand-daughter's life is to cut the strings off of the things to which they are attached. That probably won't make my wife happy. Or I can keep a vigilant eye upon my grand-daughter and insure she doesn't get into the strings.

Maybe I should do the same.

Sabbatical

Fluffy is preparing for a sabbatical graciously provided by his church. He will be working every day on a manuscript concerning the Christian's challenge to live a life in harmony with God's desires without basing said life on circumstance.

During this respite from the day-to-day, Fluffy will try to share regularly the ideas and conclusions he makes. Perhaps this will be a momentous event, perhaps not. One thing is sure, it will be way different.

So, in the spirit of preparation...prepare yourself!

Biggles

The Reason for Joy

This little critter cheers my soul. She has capture my heart and I may not ever return to normal.

Is it even a question that she is a member of my family? I think the outfit gives it away (half naked with a funny hat and something stuck in the mouth).

Parenting

I have been watching my grand-daughter for the last several weeks while my daughter goes to a summer class in the evenings. I have forgotten how intense it is to care for a little critter who is unable to do for herself. She is just now on the verge of crawling, then the world will change.

My wife and I were talking about the need to child-proof the house, or at least part of the house. This accommodation will keep the newly mobile from any real trouble (still allowing for any trouble that is common to kids anyway). I am not sure if any house could become child-proof in the sense of absolute protection. What I am sure about is that the rugrat will find somewhere, sometime, a something to mess up.

I can't seem to recall being too uptight about this whole process when I was in the primary parenting mode. I seem to remember that we parents got to a place of, "no biggie, it's just a rug, a lamp, a plate, whatever." We had fallen into a malaise of parenthood where the things that held importance before took a place farther down the line of worth. It just didn't hold the same power over us in comparison with the life giggling on the carpet playing with the plastic toy keys.

One thing is sure, I have fallen in love again with a little curly-headed, big-eyed, smiling baby girl.

Summer Morning

There is something idyllic about summer mornings. The heat of the mid-day and late afternoon are only a hint at 8 am. Their omnipresent sun are not even felt at that hour. The trees in my yard block its rising so that our back porch is protected from the specter of the rays to come.

The birds are a collection of work projects at that hour. On my back porch their rushing here to there is apprehended through their chirping and constant flight from tree to ground to tree. Quail, jays, robins, and woodpeckers form the congregation of my backyard. They are a choir of singers expertly led by the director of the universe.

Sipping my coffee and speaking to God make this summer morning a project of my own. To know the Creator through His creation, to sense His power and His masterwork, to give way to His awesome continuing action on the earth is the foundation for ultimate pleasure.

This summer morning, in the hand of God, I praise Him for His grace and the excellence of His artistry.

Independence

I was born in the USA and I am thankful for the blessing that has been to me personally. Those of us who have this privilege should know what we really have. We have been given, by God's grace, a land that is fruitful, resource full, culturally rich, historically impressive and blessed in a multitude of ways. We are, however, an arrogant people.

The nation of Israel, preparing to enter the Biblical promised land, were admonished by God to be careful in the land were they were going. They were challenged to remember from whom the land was given, to remember through whom the fruit of that land was given and to remember their God. They were reproved by God that in that day that they transformed into an arrogant people that they would know their real estate without God. They would be ravished by the lands around them, the powers that surrounded them, and lose all that they had acquired.

It is my prayer today for my country that we hear again the voice of God and turn from our arrogant ways. That as a people, we might in honest humility present ourselves before the Lord and seek His will in all that we do. That we might act in righteousness in all we do both locally and globally. And that as we hasten to a new administration, that our leaders might truly seek God's face and wisdom so as to know God's favor.

Happy Independence Day!

Anniversary

Today I celebrate ten years of service as one of the pastors in my church. In the last ten years many things have happened, not happened and sort of happened. I know that sounds like a very ambiguous statement, but I believe life is kind of like that. I thought I would reprise my sermon from last Sunday as a reminder of those ten years.

Here is my "Top Ten" for the last ten years. 10. It's ok to cry in church (i.e., It's ok to be real in church). 9. People are the object of God's love and purpose on the earth. 8. Some people will love you for who you are; some despite who you are; some will never love (the capacity to love flows out of our relationship to God directly). 7. God can save anyone (we all need to be saved from our sin and God is able). 6. The gospel bothers people (Christians need to get over the fact that the rest of the world does not necessarily appreciate the good news). 5. Honest teamwork overcomes all obstacles. 4. Without Jesus, I am nothing (and so is everyone else). 3. Music soothes, but only Jesus saves (we in the church need to get over our arrogance that there is only one kind of "God music" and remember it is all about Jesus and not the songs!). 2. Some things are worth sacrifice. 1. God rules, cares, loves, heals and continues to act on the earth.

There they are. I know there is much more than that, but these seemed appropriate to me for this time.

Laziness

I have been lazy lately. I hope to be more involved with my notes, but what can I say? Life is a rapid series of common events, spaced out between the extraordinary.

I have been bludgeoned recently by the common.

Unbelief

"...He is also the mediator of a better covenant, which has been enacted on better promises." Hebrews 8:6 NASB

Probably the hardest confrontation that the Christian has is the confrontation of non-realized betterment in this plane of existence. I am not admitting that God is a lie, but only observing that "better" in Christ does not always translate to "better" on earth.

Perhaps that is why so many who have gone before me in Christ have asked that question. "If not now, Lord, then when?" We are assaulted with the reality of unrealized hopes, depression, turns of fortune, loss, hurt, and other negatives. Can the true Christian life really be better? Is Jesus enough (this is a massive question)?

When I hear these questions in my mind, I too am bludgeoned with the "reality" of my experience. I too am caught in this continuous tape of questioning. But like Thomas of old, I wish to be confronted by the "higher reality."

Oh that somehow Jesus might say to me and all my doubting - "There is a better way. Be not doubting, but believing!"

Knees and the Desire to Run

In 1977, I had my first of three knee surgeries. It seems that the creator made me with a special deficiency in regard to my knees. As a young person, I could run like the wind. Yea verily, I was fast. The Nike swoosh wouldn't be enough to metaphorically encapsulate the rapid nature of my personal velocity. I was fast.

I was also very wiggly. I could cut and weave like no one. My natural gait was fast and serpentine. I used to play American football and could juke almost anyone. Combined with my speed, I left many behind.

However, that combination and my God given deficiency led to me blowing out both of my knees with meniscus and ACL tears. Needless (ha ha) to say, I got ground to a halt by the knee surgeries. I found myself, literally dropped to my knees, stopped by the need to be repaired.

Several years later (about 30), I find myself confronted with the reality that the knees that I have (especially the right one) are arthritic and telling me the end is near. That end is the demise of my soccer career. The team doctor for RSL has informed me that barring a miracle, ibuprofen and or cortisone are to be my near companions if I play. AND, if things continue like they are, my right knee specifically may have to be replaced!

So, with the thought of losing the potential for running, all I want to do is run. This is entirely funny to me, since I have always been the laziest runner in the world.

Who would have thought it possible?

I may be surrendering to age, but I promise to go down swinging!

Birthdays

I arrived at 54 years of age yesterday. I waited until today to write about it, to see if I woke up alive on the first day of my 55th year. You know, just to see if it took. Well, it did and here I am sharing my experience of 54 years on the earth.

The first thing I can say about the mid-fifties is some of my body parts don't want to do what I would like them to do. For example, yesterday I played in a soccer game with my team in the over thirty league in which I play (some of the guys on my team could be my sons chronologically). I did alright, but everything related to my carcass was in slow motion. "Move legs," I would shout and the things attached to my hips would respond with a resounding, "Woe baby, one step at a time, dude!" This was very frustrating and is only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak, in regard to my body's rejecting me.

The other thing I don't get is how things on my body just hurt without any reason. Sans provocation, my knees say, "Hi, we are here today, just thought you would like to know." My back is in harmony with the little miscreants called my knees. I have come to realize that I have body parts. Really, when I was younger I would just run, jump, and play; and all of that without knowing I had any specific parts attached to the me that I was. Now I know I have a back, since it greets me every morning. The same goes with my neck, shoulders, hips, and, so I won't forget, my muscles (all of them and some I know I never had).

Then my mind reminds me it isn't there. I often talk like this. "Hey, do you remember uh, what was that guys name? Uh, you know, the guys with the hair, what color was it? And the funny walk, how was it? You know, the guy who lived at that place, where was that? What? He was a girl?" It is very depressing to see the mind that could remember so much not remember anything (at least I think so).

Anyway, happy birthday to me! Another year older and another pain closer to what I can't remember.

Who's timetable is it?

But as for me, my prayer is to Thee, O Lord, at an acceptable time; O God, in the greatness of Thy lovingkindness, answer me with Thy saving truth.
Psalm 69:13



It is funny that we usually try to force the hand of God to fit into our timetable. We call our perceived time of need the acceptable time. When I am hurting, I call it the “acceptable time.” Pain is no fun, yet I am convinced that pain forces us to focus on that which is most important to our lives. If “I” is most important, then pain becomes the catalyst that starts the process of self-pity and woe-is-me-ism. If earthly objects are the most important, such as material things or even people, then we cling to them to ease the pain and if they are people, the potential is there to suffocate them in relation to our perceived need for them. If God is most important, then we run to Him who is able in His lovingkindness to answer our pain with His “saving truth.”

Climbing out of the pit

I am feeling better. What a simple statement! I am not all yucky. I am not dragging my tail behind me. I am not struggling to find which way is up. I am on the mend!

I have discovered something. When we are sick, when we do feel out of sorts, when we can't find the will to take another step, it does not mean we are dead. In fact, being in that state basically means we are alive. The live dog is better than a dead lion (to paraphrase the Bible verse) because at least he feels. It is a sign of life to feel something.

So, I am alive. I may not like the form of the life, but I am alive.

My high school team won their first soccer game of the season yesterday. Hooray!

Sick of Sick

Biggles, that's me, has been a sick puppy since returning from Argentina/Uruguay. I am so sick of being sick that I think I may be sick. Which to me seems increasingly sick.

I went to the RSL game on Saturday and honestly was pleased at the improvement of our side. We really are a better team. The only bummer is that we ended up with the same stinking result. We tied!

I guess the pain of a true fan is loving your team when they are good, loving them when they are bad, and loving them when they are working out the kinks in-between the two.

Cuando nos enfrentamos a los chivitos creo que se ve que tipo de cuadro tenemos.

One-sided love

The band, downdowndown, sings in their recent song, PROPAGANDALOVE, "Who wants a non-existent, pretend, one-sided love?" After lifting this angst enveloped statement to the sky, the singer confesses, "I do." We all want to be loved. We all need to be loved and if we aren't, we construct a love suitable for our perceived needs (real or not).

The fans of sport franchises, for example, are paradigms of this need. They desire to be loved by their teams. Be it seen through ticket sales, merchandise sales, or crazy outfits on game day, all fans desire to be loved by their teams.

Now that love is not a real expression like hugs and kisses or "'til death do us part" (although for some franchises the latter may be more true than not), but an expression on the field, court or pitch. They want to see their team win. And, if their team can't win, they must, at least, compete. Their team must fight, scratch, claw, and give of themselves to express that love to their fans.

Sometimes this truth becomes reality. Sometimes, perhaps often, it does not.

My Real Salt Lake experience in the last few weeks has prompted me to shout out, "I do!" I want to see this reality. I want to hear the cries (of joy) on the coming Saturdays of the MLS season. I want to high five my fellow "lovers." I want to raise my hands in victory on those summer days to come AFTER the whistle has blown. I want to be loved. And do you know what I know? IT IS GOING TO HAPPEN THIS YEAR!

ReALity is coming. Do I still want it? I do.

Back from the South

I arrived Friday back to the United States from my little junket down south. Hours on an airplane, in row 43, recovering from 3 days of a more southern version of Montezuma's, was almost too much for the aging hulk of a carcass that I have become. I don't know how people can travel week after week all over the world and remain healthy, focused and emotionally stable. I purposed in my heart at the end of this journey to seek FIRST CLASS from now on or I don't go (I am sure that this bold statement of purpose will return to bite me in the butt some time in the future).

I will say, however, that my time with Real Salt Lake was awesome. It was great to get to know the new crop of guys for this year and dream a little about what may become in the area of success for this burdened club. If the quality of character is any indication, coupled with the the quality of play that emerged at times, I see a much more competitive year and more of a lion's heart for this squad. I may not be much of a soccer player any more, but I think we will give everybody in our league a rough time. And minimally, we look more unified then I have seen in the three previous years of play (top to bottom).

Having said all that, I myself am preparing for another year at the helm of ICS's boy's soccer team. I don't know how this always happens, but the schedule consistently has a game somewhere about the third day of practice. There is no way anyone can prepare a team in a few days, but I suppose, that is the nature of the spring sport experience.

Anyway, I am glad to be home and have some good ol' home cooking from my beautiful wife. I didn't think it was possible to say this, but I got a little tired of always eating STEAK!

Argentina and the sport

I say "the" sport because I have forgotten how rabid this area of the world is in regard to soccer. There is a soccer game on the television every day, all day long. People are always talking about their team and the prospects of winning or the desperation of dropping out of the first league. It is also not possible to walk down the street and not see almost every third person wearing some form of team jersey.

The air here is thick with "aficion." The other day I saw a bus filled with supporters for Rosario Central (a team fighting to stay in the first division) waving their flags, wearing their jerseys, singing and heading toward the stadium to watch their team play Colon. Some of the guys from RSL had tickets and I was supposed to go with them. We were running late from practice so I opted out, knowing it was going to be standing room only on the steps. I watched the game from the hotel room and it was packed! The two teams played with all the fervor of a cat fight.

Anyway, I will be on my way to Uruguay on Tuesday to see some of my friends and enjoy la bella orilla. I will be returning to Salt Lake on Friday, back to the cold, back to the beautiful mountains and back to my beautiful wife.

Trip to Argentina and Uruguay

I will be visiting el cono del sur starting today joining Real Salt Lake on their preseason training there. I hope to be enjoying some asado like no other and some "yerba mate."

I also will take a few days and visit Colonia del Sacramento, my old soccer team Club Atletico Juventud, and some of my old friends in Uruguay.

The only bummer is that my beautiful wife cannot join me on this trip. And by the way, does the use of the word "bummer" date me?

No Hope

There is no hope for a heart that will not open to God. There is no reprieve, no forgiveness, no future, no present, no love. There is no grace for a heart that will not grasp the grace offered. There is no hope for for a heart beaten down by life and its circumstances without looking for the one who conquered all circumstances. There is no good, no fun, no experience, no feeling that can overcome the depths of despair that breathing produces or breathing receives without clutching the Savior's outstretched hand.

Jesus is real. Jesus sustains. Jesus abides. Jesus knows. Jesus cares. Jesus loves, saves, guards, keeps, provides, intercedes, endures, supports, listens, and befriends.

He is hope personified, now and forever.

But without opening to him, there is no hope for that heart.

Joy Ride

Swept away with a current of childhood joy, I returned to my city of birth. The sea that at times gently strokes her shores and at other times buffets her sands, beckoned to me with memories of youth. I immersed by body into the ocean's constantly moving water. I dipped my hands into her undulating sides, as I pulled myself through her crashing waves. Propelled by more than her surf, I remembered days gone by playing in the white fringe of her blue-green skirts.

The Art of Loneliness

We were not created to be alone. That is not to say that being alone at times is not refreshing. Sometimes to have the noise of our lives turned down or off is a real energy saving measure with consequences of retuning our hearing (making us at times able, again, to apprehend the subtle sounds in our lives). But we are not created to be alone.

This last week, I was confronted by this truth everywhere I turned. My beautiful wife was visiting her mother. This was a trip that I hoped would invigorate her and give her a break from the day to day life that, in its routine, loses it perceived worth from sheer monotony. She sounded refreshed on the phone when I talked with her.

My fellows in ministry also took leave of my presence and found themselves either enjoying family or enjoying a distinctive ministry setting. I was glad for them, but I remained, as the scripture states, like "a pelican of the wilderness; I have become like an owl of the waste places. I lie awake, I have become like a lonely bird on a housetop."

I have come to the determination that doing "lonely" is no fun. We were created for relationship, both near and far, and relationship must take place or we "deconstruct." We may not even like each other, but we need each other. We may not even get along well, but in getting along at all we are healthier. It is in the power of rubbing shoulders and sharing life that we overcome, on this earthly plane, the conclusion of our limited eyesight that we are all alone.

May God help us to practice this art.

Valentine's Day

Cyber Cafe Beau

She's in love
With her "CCB"
Rip-stop pants
"Save the Wildlife" tee

Sipping his latte
He connects to the net
Surfing in c-space
Got his "apple" all set

She's enamored, beleaguered
With her beau on his way
To nowhere, not leaving
He's stationed all day

Just sitting and drinking
On the road to his high
Elite talking erudite
Connoisseur of the chai

She gazes with longing
To catch just one glance
From her dreamer who's dreaming
Of his cyber romance

Missing Church

Saturday afternoon, post-movie daze and I get sick! The flu, or goo, or who knows what assualts me with a temperature, chills and headache. I thought, "Wow, I can't be getting sick, can I?" And sure enough, I fall into the pit of fuzzy headed, throbbing headed, plugged sinused, back aching personhood. It was like the perfect storm. There was no getting around this bugger.

I dutifully call the boss, call my compatriot in music, and collapse in my bed. I am assisted by my most beautiful wife who piles on the blankets after having given me the heating pad at max heat. I don't feel any warmth. Three sets of clothes on and crushed beneath the load of all these heating elements and I continue to feel nothing. She says, "Jump in the shower under the hot water and that will heat you up." So, as a man who mostly listens to his wife, I strip, jump in the hot shower only to feel nothing warm. I could have scalded myself with the water and I wouldn't have noticed. All I got was wet.

After drying off, I go back to bed and lie there for hours knowing. I know I am not going to church tomorrow. I know, I am not leading the worship tomorrow. I know, I am not helping the Bible study classes tomorrow. I know I am not preaching for the Korean church tomorrow. I know I am going to remain where I am, in bed.

It felt weird to miss church involuntarily. I haven't had that experience very often in my life as a Christian. I guess God knows, but it still felt weird. I hope I am still good with Him, because the option of watching Joel Osteen instead of going to our church didn't appeal to me at all. Church is not church through the airwaves.

I am sorry for missing church.

Work

I had to go back to work this week after being off for a week because of my surgery. I say "had" not because I was forced by a schedule or a boss or any other outside impetus, but by my own workaholic character.

I have discovered that I am a compulsive "jobber." I have just got to job all the time. In fact I get to feeling often that my job isn't quite done or tweeked enough and I fly off to the job site (cyber or otherwise) and get to it. In this regard, I am both faithful and sick.

One of the accoutrements of my job is the cell phone. I can be reached anywhere, any time, anyhow, as long as there is coverage. I have learned to turn it off at times when I am father, husband, son, on vacation, or speaking to others. Some do not understand this. In fact, some think this is downright strange. "Why didn't you answer your phone?" I get this a lot. The implication of this question is that somehow a phone call, cellular or otherwise, preempts all other happenings.

Last Sunday, the preacher was making a point in the service and said, "And God says..." at which point a person's cell phone goes off and the person ANSWERS IT perfectly timed, "Hello?" That's right, "And God says 'Hello?!'" Where is sanctuary (for those who don't know that means holy place), where is solitude and meditation? We can't divest ourselves of our leashes to be attentive to God or even the person in front of us without superceeding it with our texting, phoning or some other digital intrusion.

So here I am, back to my beginning. I am bemoaning the fact that I have not had time to share from my heart, perhaps due to some digital assault, or probably from my own over ownership of my job. Heaven save me from my sin. And heaven save us all from our own.

ET doesn't have to phone home. God is talking and He needs no apparatus but listening ears.

I share a poem.



You are ours
(for Leigh)

I saw you sleeping this morning
with the birds
And in your drawing or swaying
I saw that curve
Of your construction in composition
with the lies
From one who truly wants your destruction
for you to die
But in your quiet shallow breathing
I see the truth
No one can shatter its peaceful moment
eternal loop
That He who loves you has ever given
by His own grace
No confrontation nor condemnation
no, not one trace
No matter spoken 'gainst His beloved
will e'er remain
For you, my lover are His completely
and mine today.

Discouragement

"Therefore encourage one another, and build up one another, just as you also are doing."
1 Thess. 5:11 NASB

Admitting my own discouragement, I have to be encouraged by this passage from the Bible. It is an admonishment to continue to be encouraging. "Just as you also are doing," speaks a ton of the Thessalonian act of giving comfort to the faith and the faithful. Yet they must have also been discouraged enough in their pursuing the right to need a little more encouragement.

I often feel the same. Destined to confront the truth, it seems, that doing God kind of stuff just doesn't feel good, leave you laughing or make you a millionaire, I often just feel like it is not worth it. It doesn't have the result I would wish. It leaves me feeling empty. And on top of it, our culture says you must be lacking somewhere if all you do for the Lord (if you are a believer) continues to end up in poo. Where is the miracle? Where is the great movement of God and His mighty power saving the world, restoring the down-trodden and SETTING THE CAPTIVES FREE?

I think I am feeling sorry for myself. About 30 years of service to God and yet I have arrived back where I started. Is this another moment of faith? Is it another opportunity for God to reveal Himself? Or am I just like the rest of the world, hoping for a miracle, but waiting for the norm?

In the last few days I have had way too much time to think about all these things.

On the birth of grandchildren

I became a grandfather again on January 17th. This child, my third grandkid, was born in the same town where I live and born to my daughter. This made it special for obvious reasons.

The first reason, proximity, was a powerful lure into the realm of emotion. I got to be there, or at least as "there" as a daughter would let her dad. The little critter arrived at her appointed time with minimal impact to mom. I was very thankful for that as I am sure was my new grandchild's mommy.

The implication of proximity about burst my mind with visions of outings, sleepovers, and the lot. No matter the challenges that every new mom has, or even the specific ones that this mom has, it was intoxicating to think of being able to bounce that dear lamb on my knee almost as often as I would want.

The second reason, my daughter, made this child full of the potential love a normal dad would have transfered and augmented to his daughter's daughter. There is just something about a baby girl to stir the heart. And, I am no different. My heart is stirred. I am smitten by a little black haired cherub (as I was, by the way, when I delivered her mom into my arms).

I can only hope that this new relationship will have as strong an ending as its beginning.

Rather than shooting from the hip

I apologize straight way. Sorry for the mess; the goo from my brain. It is there and it must come out. So, not firing from the proverbial hip, I will be sharing from the heart, deceitfully wicked as it is.

Today I find myself recovering from gall bladder surgery. What a pain! Eating has never been a real problem for me, but the doctor says it has been all along. The "healthy" American diet of food without end of quantity or quality has caught up to my body and slain my gall bladder. The pun assaults me, but I cannot bring myself to release it (gall darn it!).

In preparing for my surgery, the doctor told me to eat nothing for 24 hours prior to the event and only clear liquids until midnight the night before. I was amazed that I wasn't craving food that whole day. I wasn't hungry in the least and that thought kept coming to mind all day. "I'm not hungry. I mean, I'm not hungry!" I should have been by all American red-blooded standards. I should have been wiping drool off of my face at the sight of every street corner fast foodie. I should have been moaning to all my friends how miserable I was, but I wasn't.

I will have to think about that one a little while longer. Perhaps I duped my mind into submission or maybe I just didn't need the super-triple-combo-sizer-meal. Maybe I got a glimpse of what I have become. Maybe I got a new view of the blub-boy. Maybe I got a picture of the waste (I couldn't help it) of it all. Fluffy duck! That's what it is.

Anyway, I am recovering. Four small holes are all the doctor left. They are healing nicely. My only wonder is if I will be able to heal the greater disease of eating my way to death. Fluffy duck!