Fluffy Duck

More or Less

2012-01-01T07:35:00.001-07:00

A wonderful picture of life without Christ is the experience of passing from the old year to the new one. Standing on the edge of that old and looking to the prospects and hope of the new, we resolve. We resolve to do what I call “More or Less.” We resolve to eat less, drink less, waste less, worry less, spend less, and any other “less” we can think of. We also resolve to run more (or walk), pray more, read more, save more, vacation more, friend more, trust more, hope more, even love more; and any other “more” we can conjure up. These resolutions take place in the blink of an eye, when the clock strikes midnight, then the humanity kicks in.

Many of us resolve because we couldn’t resolve during Xmas (please see my previous blog entitled, “My Xmas Rant”). We have pigged out during the ramp up to the baby Jesus’ arrival and we know. If one were to count how many almond rocas we have stuffed down our gullets, we would probably be shocked. I loved every one of them, over and over and over again. I resolve to not have any almond roca in 2012; until perhaps the 10th of December, when the church folk bless me with tins and tins (which adds up to tons and tons) of almond roca. We resolve to quit this and start that, to less this and more that and we set ourselves up to fail, fail fail.

Jesus, Himself, tried to give us a clue about our own power to effect real change in the face of the typical challenges we confront. He said in Matthew 26:41, "Keep watching and praying, that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." The flesh is weak. The depth of that phrase is more or less the crux of our earthly experience. We want to do the right things, we want to “More or Less” our lives, but we do not have the “umpf” to truly accomplish our goals. Paul says that he beat his body so as to make it his slave (rather than the body making us our slave to appetite), so he would not be disqualified. Not from the grace of God, but from the living each day as an example. For Paul to have accomplished this was only based on his awareness that he could do all things through Christ who strengthened him (Phil. 4:13). The same goes for us.

We will only master the “More or Less” of a new year when we enslave ourselves to the Master. Enslave sounds so rough and medieval, but sometimes we don’t get it unless we see how all encompassing it must be to give our lives to Him. This is accomplished when we realize that there must be more of Him and less of us and just do it. Without Christ richly moving in each of our lives we will flounder on in this life, more or less. We will, every year, make our decisions to “More or Less” our lives and fall short, if He is not an integral part of our every endeavor.

I pray this New Year that we might come to the only one who can make a difference in the New Year; that we might submit to Him and see what more of Him and less of us is like. And that’s more or less what I wanted to say.

Happy New Year!

My Xmas Rant

2011-12-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

Hold the presses! This pastor has taken Christ out of Christmas. "And you call yourself a Christian!" That's right, I threw the "Xmas" word out there. I just cut Christ out of the season, reason or not, or did I?

Christmas is a wonderful, magical time. What other time of the year do we go crazy about giving gifts to one another? I mean, really, how refreshing is it to see grown men and women slugging each other at the local big box retail store, trying to find that special gift for their little girls, Sugar and Spice. How awesome is it to see that love extended with the outstretched arm pepper spraying the multitude, while said multitude skate on the store's DVD covered floor to the tune of "He knows when you've been sleeping..." I love Christmas, but I didn't take Christ out of the event.

Working where I work and relating to whom I relate, I hear many "truths" shared from the mouths of well meaning folk who have been instructed in "The Way" and have majored on the minor things of faith. Xmas is one of those things. Somehow we have come to the belief that the "X" in Xmas is the nixing of the Christ child from His very own birthday party. Perhaps some language guidance will help.

As an educated pastor (which, by the way, does not mean I am smart), I have been instructed in several areas of learning. One of these is the Greek language another is English. In the Greek language, the original language of the New Testament, the word for Christ is Χριστός (by the way, this word is not Jesus' last name, it simply means "Anointed One" which is a translation from Hebrew's word for the same, Messiah). This letter, "X," when it came into English, came in as a "Ch." So we transliterated the word from Greek to make the word Christ in English.

Now if that is not enough, we also have a tendency in English, as in every other language, to abbreviate our words in common use. For example I don't send "Electronic mail," rather, I send "Email." I don't watch the "National Football League" on "Television" (especially since my Chargers are lousy), rather I watch the NFL on TV. We tend to abbreviate everything we can. Now with that in hand, Christmas is easily abbreviated (and I would add, in a form theologically correct) to Xmas without the loss of faith, love, hope or the greatest of these, Christ!

Where Christ has truly been taken out of Christmas is in the human heart, at the mall, big box retailer, snooty boutique shoppe (notice the snooty spelling) with an extended arm shooting pepper spray at the jolly purchasers slugging each other while skating on DVDs in the name of Christmas. To this scenario, I say, "Bah humbug!"

May Jesus establish His Kingdom in each of our hearts this Xmas, so we might experience Him where He belongs.

The Art of Distraction

2011-11-18T11:25:00.002-07:00

I am a professional Christian teacher. Some call this endeavor pastoring. My job is to present the truths of a victorious faith to those who are under my care and tutelage, in order for those truths to become a part of my flock's spiritual growth. Teaching is fun and I enjoy the challenge of expression with purpose.

I have seen, however, in the context of my craft, a growing trend of distraction and its burgeoning art forms. I know I am not alone. This trend is not only being revealed in the context of worship services, but also within the context of every aspect of life. This distraction has caused deaths, terminations of jobs, miscommunication at multiple levels and, as lowly as it may seem, loss of understanding concerning the truths of God for His children to live victorious lives. We are the most connected, and yet, disconnected generation that the earth has known.

We can check our stock portfolio in a few seconds through the wizardry of our smart phones, along with reviewing our calendars, emails, facebook, twitter, and, yes, even call a friend (or screen them when they call us). We have become intoxicated with the opportunities to electronically "plugin" to the world around us. Yet in the process of such a high level of connectedness, I have observed the loss of silence, the loss of reflection and even the loss of connectedness with persons in the same room. Somehow we have fallen victim to the tyranny of the ringtone.

Inherently we know this is not right. We know that we should be concentrating on the person before us, what they are saying, why they are saying it and how we might be important to them or the context. Yet when the bells ring or the ever distinctive ringtones start, we ask for privilege, for pardon, for time to let the caller, the texter, the reason for the interruption to take precedent over the living, breathing human with whom we were connecting. We have begun to celebrate our phones over and against the delight of real live human interaction.

It has become so prevalent that conversation with God (prayer) is often temporarily suspended when the smart phone issues its call to the increasingly unbridled desires of our hearts. It is not God who loses out in this drama. If our phones were so smart, how come that can't tell WE ARE TALKING WITH THE KING OF THE UNIVERSE? What is also quite interesting is our ability to disguise our distractions while seeming to do these most important things, like praying.

It is illegal to drive while texting, so we hold our phones low, below the level of the door window frame. While in school we play angry birds under the desk, out of sight of the teacher who is earnestly guiding the young mind into a higher education. And at church with our Bibles open (perhaps even to the appropriate place in the sermon), we hold it at an angle to cover the action of a multiple level complaint about the sermon and the preacher to whom they are not listening, along with the other participants of their text complaint. The art of these exercises is astonishing.

I am a someone who has been called to communicate wonderful truths, yet I grieve for the art that is killing the potential of the church. I am not a fatalist, however. I still hope for some success in the midst of the distraction. That is still my purpose.

Got to go, my phone is ringing.

Golf

2011-06-11T08:21:00.002-06:00

Golf should be called fetch-it. The Scots invented this first hide and seek game that included a modicum of exercise. One stands in a box (tee box) and whacks a tiny white ball with a stick, then the hitter must go and fetch-it. After discovery of the smitten, one must then smite it again until it is smitten into a hole some yards in the distance. After completing this exercise 17 more times, one is finished with a "round" and can retire for the day (it almost takes that long to play).

I just returned from a vacation wherein I played four rounds of fetch-it over three days (or at least that was my intention). My father joined me in this binge down in Southern Utah at some of the most beautiful fetch-it courses we have in the state. I have heard that to know my father is to know the present writer times 10. I am not sure what that means, but I can assure you it can mean nothing good.

The first day of fetch-it began at 6 am when the progenitor and I got up, showered and made our way to the first fetch-it course to join others from Northern Utah who had made the journey to this Southern Utah fetch-it heaven. All geared up, we proceeded to hit and fetch the tiny white ball for the next 4 or so hours. We played this first fetch-it course down by the polygamist stronghold of Colorado City. It was a very difficult course in which we experienced (at least my progenitor and I) the fetch-it player's nightmare of losing the tiny white ball on the very first whack. I now know why this course was so close to the polygamists' enclave. They are the only ones who could play fetch-it there, because the tiny white ball could only be found by employing the polygamists' particular assets (multiple wives and multitudinous brood sent out in search of the elusive tiny white ball).

Having completed our first adventure in pioneering through the first course (I say pioneering, because it was more about blazing a trail through the desert in search of the tiny white ball), we ate a hurried lunch and found our way to the next fetch-it course to play another "round" of fetch-it. I have failed to mention that Southern Utah was very sunny and our post winter bodies were not prepared for the cooking they were to receive (that includes the progenitor and I who, although hailing from native American stock, got cooked like the Christmas goose).

Needless to say, although I am going to say it, we ended the day with a negative count of tiny white balls and a quite impressive positive count of what fetch-it enthusiasts call "strokes." If I was worried about what the fetch-iters call a handicap, I would be mortified. However, I was just glad to not have experienced a real stroke. We ended our day at Outback Steakhouse and, as a real man, all came out well with a chunk of meat on my platter and the typical banter of men around the table lying about our fetch-iting.

I can't recall much of the subsequent days of fetch-it, except to say the progenitor started the next round, but never finished; and in our final day of fetch-it, all we could muster was a trip to the course to look at it. Perhaps the progenitor and I have reached a boiling point of sorts. My 57 years combined with his 77 added up to the longing of more youthful eyes, in a time far far away, when an intended four rounds of fetch-it in three days would have been a joy. We were, at least, glad to be with one another, enjoying each others' company and getting all our money's worth of fetch-it.

We're planning to do it again next year. And golf really should be called "fetch-it."

Vacations

2011-05-31T04:01:00.002-06:00

Vacations are like ice cream cones. Oh they look great as you are putting them together, taking that sugar cone in hand and adding one, two, or even three of your favorite scoops of ice cream. Often the planning of the cone is as much fun as the thought of eating it. Then the reality of eating comes to the fore.

The top scoop goes down pretty easy, still staying relatively congealed and cold to the palate. As one works themselves into the core of the cone, the ambiance begins to have its effect on the wonder of all the planning. Everything starts to melt. That which was so glorious seconds before, has now turned into a dripping mess of ever increasing proportions. The flavor of choice becomes a sticky glove covering the hand. The once sweet container of bliss turns into a soft, gooey, object which has lost its ability to retain its contents. It is now not even able to act as a good funnel (one of the many joys of an able cone).

Vacations are just like this. The planning is a lot of fun, pulling out maps and travel guides, thoughtfully scouring the web for neat places to go and things to see. Reading reviews of hotels and restaurants in search of the greatest trip known to man only whets the appetite. Is it four stars or five stars? How many reviews does that hotel have? How close to the beach, to the mall, to the movie theater, to the tourist attraction? Do they allow pets? With everything planned, one sets out and thus begins the meltdown.

I would rather not go over the many facets of "cone destruction" on vacation, but suffice it to say, nothing ever turns out as it was planned. The plane may arrive late, the baggage too! The hotel may say 4 stars, but they meant you can see 4 at night from the postage stamp window in your bathroom that over looks the European ventilation shaft that runs from a center courtyard in the hotel measuring 5 feet by 5 feet (which is the direction of your room with a view facing the other bathroom windows). Not to mention the occasional viewing opportunity into your fellow guests' vacation bathroom that are unplanned and truly unwanted. Did I say I wouldn't go over these things?

Then there is the food ("this hamburger doesn't taste like meat mommy"). When you do get to a restroom, if you do in time, it may not be a pretty scene. It reminds me of a time when the diapers ran out after a difficult, winding road where the back end had caught up with the front end and there was no end to the mess.

All I am trying to say is that vacations might be better experienced in the mind, where moth and dust corrupteth not and the joy of returning to one's own bed can be had every night with one's own sweetly tender pillow (not those rocks they give you in every hotel known to man). That's right, the place where kids behave because they know the belt can come out at any time (because we are not performing for the other tourists). The place where meals are known, food is cheap, people love you and you love them, and where the prayers of the saints are spoken to God after a bath in a tub that fits or a shower that has the shampoo that works on your hair. The place called home, where the yard needs to be mowed, and the trash taken out, and the garage swept, and the grass watered, and the dog feed, and the beds made, and the clothes washed, and the dishes put away, and the floors vacuumed, and the furniture dusted, and the toilets cleaned, and the bills paid and where we get to go to work 5 days a week...

How about them ice cream cones?

Yards

2011-05-28T11:44:00.002-06:00

The grass always grows greener in the other yard. Not mine! I have a yard with the potential to be historic, Homeric, exemplary, yea verily pretty good. But I have a debility. I generally hate yard work.

I drive through my neighborhood watching the poor slaves to the shovels, rakes and manure, fast at work sweating their lives into their yards and I "tsk-ulate." You know what I mean, I "tsk, tsk" in my mind feeling sorry for my fellows (and perhaps look down on the poor indentured slobs). I am free to do that, since I am the unknown traveler through our borough.

However, I do love my wife. That may seem strange to offer at this point in my not so subtle diatribe against yards and their incumbent tasks. She loves yards. I am afraid she not only loves yards, but also loves yard work. I am conflicted...love wife, hate yards; wife loves yards, husband is trapped.

I have decided to love my wife through the yard and all its implied travail. She is worth it, really! It does, however, not change the truth that yard work sucks! I love my wife, and I will love the yard. God made the garden, by the way, so He loves yards also. Man, I really am trapped. Love God, love yards...

So I have furthered my decision to love my wife and God by doing the yard. I will rake, mow, seed, trim, clip, plant, and water. God would have me do these things for loving Him more and proving myself to my earthly beloved. Yards, I sometimes think God did cast the first couple out of the garden...I am only praying that He will do a miracle and give me love for the yard.

Water

2011-05-24T13:29:00.003-06:00

Desert living is different living. At least it is different from my growing up years in San Diego and my travels as a missionary in Central America and South America. I now live in a desert, but the problem is it doesn't feel like a desert.

The air in Utah is very dry. In fact, one of the greatest transitions that our family had to make in moving to Utah was the lack of humidity. Really, it snows a ton here, rains copiously (like it has been for the last few months) and yet, this is the dry skin capital of the universe. God graced me with a wonderful skin composition which has never felt dry to me until I arrived at this place. I didn't even know what lotion was until I moved here. Whilst the snow is flying, I am itching myself to death (self-inflicted road rash) and trying to find a manly smelling lotion that actually works (BTW, there are very few skin lotions on the market that don't smell like some girl perfume). How can these things be? Well, we live in a desert.

The other thing that is weird about living here in this seemingly non-desert desert is because it looks so lush and green and mountainous and humid and lush and green (did I say that already?), you don't feel like you need to drink water. Unlike the song from the Sons of the Pioneers, this place dupes you into not drinking water. I have gone all day without drinking a drop of the old H2O. Recently the chorus of that Sons of the Pioneers song has been ringing in my ears, "Keep a-movin' Dan don't ya listen to him Dan," is talking about the devil beguiling us with mirages. Well that's where I've been, not even looking for the most necessary component for our lives on the earth, water. It's been a reverse mirage. Everything looks great, why drink any water? Remember, I live in a desert.

The next thing that is weird is we have a lot of water. Our mountains are right now holding a flood that is going to baptize the valley in which I live with so much snow runoff that it is probably going to beat all the records. Yet, we are preparing to give our water away to more thirsty climes, such as Southern California. Well, we do live in a desert. Maybe we are just trying to keep abreast of our regional environmental geography. You know, we are in a desert, so a desert we must remain. For those who don't know, desert (noun) a region so arid because of little rainfall that it supports only sparse and widely spaced vegetation or no vegetation at all. And that's the problem. We have water, but we are trying our best to give it away. Desert (with the voice of Jack Sparrow).

Finally, the frustration of itching while feeling dizzy from lack of water has got me all goof-a-lated (I know this isn't a word). I have been so spaced out lately that I can only attribute it to the combination of this year's attack of the pollen and my lack of drinking minimal water quantities. Who will save me from this body of death? Well I know Jesus is really going to do that part, but in the mean time, I got to drink water more regularly.

So, I hoist my water bottle into the air and encourage you to drink your water daily, even though you may live in a beautifully vegetated desert like I do. Cheers and bottoms up!

The Quiet

2010-02-16T05:14:00.002-07:00

Up at the normal hour...3:45 a.m. I find the silence intoxicating and somewhat perplexing. The irony of the moment is found in the truth that I am a people person. Give me collisions of friends and acquaintances and I will be supremely happy.

On the other hand, I find compelling the noise of a tropical beach, a mountain meadow or a desert gully. It is the stuff of peace and rest. For all the joy that others give me in crashing together in relationship, the serenity of a subtle natural moment is nearly beyond words.

Thank you, dear Lord, for the quiet of this moment.

"Be still and know that I am God." NASB

A Few Thoughts

2009-10-10T05:18:00.002-06:00

I am afraid of heights. For that reason alone the lofty images of flying in a modern jet airliner at 35,000 feet are terrifying to me. In the aperture of 1993 I found myself doing just that flying over the heart of South America returning from my missionary assignment on the international field and caring not one bit whether the plane would crash or not. My primal fear had been transformed into absolute cold indifference, because of the pain that I was carrying at the time. My personal suffering had managed to flood the receptacle of all my hopes, dreams, feelings and faith and leave me drowning in unfeeling, hopeless discouragement. So, I didn’t care if the plane crashed. I didn’t care if we dove straight down at more than terminal velocity into the Bolivian altiplano. My theological training, my pastoral experience and my faith in God felt useless. All of my degrees and personal knowledge felt like a lump of coal in my arsenal of faith. It didn’t even make a good rock to throw at it all. My hurt was so profound, I just didn’t care.

Upon returning to the United States and injecting myself back into church, albeit with a numb sense of disorientation, I found that most other people also didn’t care. To some I had become a persona non grata, a onetime shining light transformed into something irreparably broken. To others I had become a pariah who no longer had the grace of man and most assuredly did not have the grace of God, to whom the only thing they were able to say was, “God can’t use you anymore.”

Our churches are full of people flying at 35,000 feet who from the outside often look fine, under control and prospering, but who are carrying a load so heavy of pain, brokenness and estrangement that they don’t care if the plane in which they are riding goes hurtling to the earth only to crash and burn. Or they are so overcome by the power and deception of their suffering that they would choose to ignore the grace of their Lord and reject all of His good for the momentary pleasure of satisfying their feelings. They would consider discarding the way of Christ and replacing it with the way of man.

The depth of this experience is no trifle. The Christian experience does not inoculate us from the reality that the world without Christ struggles, has struggled and will continue to struggle with pain, suffering and loss. The reality is also clear that the church, not being immune from the experience, must confront it with the power that it has. Yet the church often fails in this confrontation, opting to isolate and insulate itself from those who are struggling with this dynamic, or, worse, excommunicating the aggrieved parties as the church hurls them to the dogs.

From the Introduction of Righter's Block.

http://www.crossbooks.com/BookStore/BookStoreBookDetails.aspx?bookid=52473#

Signs of a real friend

2009-08-04T07:54:00.002-06:00

A real friend will speak to your face and not behind your back. (Exodus 33:11)

A real friend will defend you when you are right and tell you when you are wrong. They will not stumble you, but strive to encourage you. (Proverbs 27:6)

A real friend will be there in your pain and joy and help you when you fall. They will seek to give comfort rather than demanding to be comforted. (Romans 12:15)

A real friend will care about what God has to say for both you and them, no matter the consequence, even if it means losing your friendship. (John 6:68)

R.O.

2009-07-25T09:07:00.003-06:00

He was yellow, that cat
His motor ready for the grade.
What fueled his machine
Only he would ever show,
And though he was quite yellow,
It was crimson that filled his tanks.

His mustard countenance
(Rust-oleum 27274)
Old, just like his hue,
Was his, so proud to wear
Even to the grave.

He became the threshold
Of his favorite watering hole
For just as life and in his death
It was dirt that filled his soul.

He was yellow, that cat
Yellow through and through.

With oil and grit and sweat and spit
The old 140H laid down in the road.

The Course of All Our Doubt

2009-01-19T16:20:00.001-07:00

A poem about our fight with the flesh and our victory in Jesus.

Wretched, broken, deplorable
Painted into the corner
Of the flesh in which I reside.
It is the course of all my doubt.

Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?

Damaged, pained, miserable
Resigned to live the life
Of struggle one day at a time.
It is the course of all my doubt.

Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?

Downcast, joyless, damnable
Chained to the carcass
Of this world of suffering.
It is the course of all my doubt.

Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?

Wicked, worthless, despicable
Filled with the contents
Of all that is vile and common.
It is the course of all my doubt.

Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?

Pathetic, hapless, pitiable
Grounded by the dirt
Of our existence without God.
It is the course of all my doubt.

Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?

New Year

2009-01-17T06:03:00.003-07:00

So here we are 17 days into a new year and all seems the same to me.

The people I know are still as stressed as they were before the infamous changing of the calendar. The people I know are still worried about the economy, the world temperament, their home life, love life, and children (if they have them). The people I know are still happy with some, angry with others and unsure about all the rest. The people I know are want to voice their opinion, gossip a little here and there and generally be self-absorbed.

Nothing really changes with the flipping of the calendar's page.

In the last week, I have seen the grace of God played out with wonder. In the midst of the above people, I saw His outstretched hand caress the hearts of hurting believers who knew no way out of their pain in their own power. But, believe me, His power was enough. I saw this with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and held the hands of those to whom this power was applied.

No one changes things, like God changes things.

So 17 days into the new year, I wonder if this truth can get through to others I know, like all those above, who still struggle with all those things. Some don't even know that they are struggling so (in fact, some think they are just fine) and I would fear for their new year, if it weren't for the One who possesses the power to change those who are powerless. He still loves the world so...

Poem for a Friend

2008-12-28T06:48:00.003-07:00

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

2008-12-23T06:11:00.002-07:00

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

2008-08-31T11:54:00.006-06:00

"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?

2008-08-28T08:14:00.002-06:00

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

2008-08-27T05:53:00.002-06:00

"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

2008-08-25T16:43:00.002-06:00

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

2008-08-13T10:54:00.002-06:00

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

2008-08-09T11:33:00.006-06:00

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

2008-08-07T14:14:00.002-06:00

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

2008-08-06T07:29:00.002-06:00

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

2008-07-14T23:21:00.004-06:00

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

2008-07-11T07:49:00.002-06:00

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

2008-07-07T06:53:00.002-06:00

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

2008-07-04T10:27:00.003-06:00

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

2008-07-01T06:54:00.003-06:00

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

2008-05-13T21:00:00.002-06:00

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

2008-04-25T20:16:00.004-06:00

"...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

2008-04-17T09:26:00.002-06:00

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

2008-04-08T07:22:00.002-06:00

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?

2008-04-05T08:37:00.000-06:00

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

2008-04-02T11:04:00.002-06:00

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

2008-03-31T21:58:00.002-06:00

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

2008-03-18T08:30:00.004-06:00

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

2008-03-17T04:34:00.003-06:00

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

2008-03-09T05:00:00.002-06:00

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

2008-03-03T05:29:00.002-07:00

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

2008-02-25T09:21:00.002-07:00

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

2008-02-20T10:44:00.002-07:00

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

2008-02-18T08:47:00.005-07:00

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

2008-02-14T07:12:00.000-07:00

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

2008-02-11T07:17:00.001-07:00

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

2008-02-02T08:01:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-01-28T13:24:00.000-07:00

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

2008-01-25T11:09:00.000-07:00

"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

2008-01-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

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

2008-01-22T20:56:00.000-07:00

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!