Today, as I was heading down the stairs to leave for church, I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I bent down, grabbed it, stuck it in my pocket and had a quick chortle (not to be confused with a giggle) and headed to church.
I wasn't sure what I would do with a plastic chicken leg, or should I say, plastic "drumstick" (seeing that it is "cooked" and all) but I figured if it got one giggle from my seven-year old (giggle is okay here) at an inappropriate time, it would be worth lugging it around in my Dockers (not to be confused with knickers.)
During the sermon, my daughter was drawing and leaned a little close to me, resting her thigh against my left pocket where she felt the lump of the toy. She knew from sitting close to me every Sunday that this was unusual, so she started to reach in...and to stop what could have been an outburst, I stopped her hand and shook my head.
Now she was curious, so being a good seven-year old, she persisted. Looking straight at her, I pulled it to the edge of my pocket and gave her a peek. She cupped her hands over her mouth and her eyes did a devious dance as they looked into mine. My first success.
After the service, I was conversing with the family in front of us. Their pre-teen daughter was telling me about the buck she had shot last week, and at a pause, I knew I had my opportunity. Out came my hand and in it was the drumstick. "Want a drumstick?" I said. She just looked at me and laughed, shaking her head no, rolling her eyes, and nudging her mom to show her what I was up to.
As we were filing to go down to the fellowship hall, I stopped to talk with a guy who I hardly ever see laugh, or even smile. After listening for a while, I offered to help him do some tiling in the new addition he is building, all the while knowing the formed plastic that was colored to a perfect brown glaze resting in my pocket would NEVER get a rise out of him.
But then God smiled upon me...his daughter came up, pulled on his arm and muttered the words that only a 40-year old wanna-be comedian who had a fake chicken leg in his pocket could love..."I'm hungry!" Out came the drumstick. Success number three.
Traversing the crowd in the fellowship hall, I ran into the worship director who invited me to attend the creative planning meetings on Thursday mornings, which I was hoping to do again, and had emailed her about it only a few days prior. She told me there would be breakfast provided—and to that comment the finely-crafted kids toy made somewhere in China (where the chicken that modeled for it is obviously very small) made it's last appearance and got it's last laugh, with the footnote from her, that a guy who carries a fake chicken leg in his pocket definitely needed to attend these type of meetings.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Fear
Today, as I was running on the treadmill at the "Y", it came over me again—and I asked the Lord why. For weeks I have had to walk step by step, moment by moment through this darkness, not allowing myself to run away or be paralyzed.
Sometimes my fears are larger than I can believe, and I think to myself, "I have stood many times at Glacier Point in Yosemite, gazed in awe over the the rim of the Grand Canyon, I have stood in the Pacific Ocean, witnessed the birth of my children, and I know my father created these things, yet I still fear? I ask myself, is this fear greater than God Almighty? The God who lives in me? No, but it certainly feels this way right now, and I can't explain it.
I am not frightened easily. As a martial artist, I have stood my ground when the odds were 11 to 2. I have faced the death of both of my folks, lived alone since I was 16, faced the shunning of a religious group which forced me to uproot my family— moments that have defined me and have helped me not to fear, but to trust in the goodness of Lord.
I can clearly see God is with me.
As I ran, I prayed for clarity. Then God answered: I was allowing the fear in. I was giving permission for someone to speak into my life. I was allowing someone to intimidate me whose reputation in dealing with me has only been to cause grief. It was that simple.
The Word says to guard our hearts with all diligence, for out of it flows the wellsprings of life. Diligence is defined as a "constant and earnest effort to accomplish what is undertaken; persistent exertion of body or mind."
So my remedy: keep persistent exertion to extinguish, at the threshold of my mind, the verbal and nonverbal voices of this person and the people who do not love me or have my best interest at heart.
I am to bless those who curse me, and pray for those who spitefully use me. But, I don't trust them or allow them to speak into my life.
How did I get to this place? Maybe I need more reminders of how he has led me though my past to keep me from ending up here??
I wonder, after David cut off Goliath's head, if he picked up the stone that felled the Philistine to keep it with him to remind him of that day? I have read he was given his sword. What are some of the things I can use as reminders?
We read later in his life David faced the brother of Goliath and other Gath giants, but he and his warriors killed each of them. Wow, I wonder how he felt when he saw another giant come over the horizon? (Does this story fit in with New Covenant theology?)
Have you had fear that seemed larger than life? What is your story?
Sometimes my fears are larger than I can believe, and I think to myself, "I have stood many times at Glacier Point in Yosemite, gazed in awe over the the rim of the Grand Canyon, I have stood in the Pacific Ocean, witnessed the birth of my children, and I know my father created these things, yet I still fear? I ask myself, is this fear greater than God Almighty? The God who lives in me? No, but it certainly feels this way right now, and I can't explain it.
I am not frightened easily. As a martial artist, I have stood my ground when the odds were 11 to 2. I have faced the death of both of my folks, lived alone since I was 16, faced the shunning of a religious group which forced me to uproot my family— moments that have defined me and have helped me not to fear, but to trust in the goodness of Lord.
I can clearly see God is with me.
As I ran, I prayed for clarity. Then God answered: I was allowing the fear in. I was giving permission for someone to speak into my life. I was allowing someone to intimidate me whose reputation in dealing with me has only been to cause grief. It was that simple.
The Word says to guard our hearts with all diligence, for out of it flows the wellsprings of life. Diligence is defined as a "constant and earnest effort to accomplish what is undertaken; persistent exertion of body or mind."
So my remedy: keep persistent exertion to extinguish, at the threshold of my mind, the verbal and nonverbal voices of this person and the people who do not love me or have my best interest at heart.
I am to bless those who curse me, and pray for those who spitefully use me. But, I don't trust them or allow them to speak into my life.
How did I get to this place? Maybe I need more reminders of how he has led me though my past to keep me from ending up here??
I wonder, after David cut off Goliath's head, if he picked up the stone that felled the Philistine to keep it with him to remind him of that day? I have read he was given his sword. What are some of the things I can use as reminders?
We read later in his life David faced the brother of Goliath and other Gath giants, but he and his warriors killed each of them. Wow, I wonder how he felt when he saw another giant come over the horizon? (Does this story fit in with New Covenant theology?)
Have you had fear that seemed larger than life? What is your story?
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Starlings
Art by 23 degrees from Lorado Taft's Recording Angel - click to enlarge
I happened upon this sculpture by Lorado Taft and was struck not just by how beautiful she was but stunned by the scale of the cast—she must be 12 ft. high.
This Recording Angel sits on a hillside of a cemetery overlooking a pond and surrounded by trees, but that day I also captured a starling migration, which I felt had to go into this digital study (although barely noticeable)
Friday, August 3, 2007
Literary Kung-Fu
Recently I asked Kirsten to list her top ten titles and authors and make a list of books she has read twice, and I have accepted her invitation to do the same. Not being a voracious reader, I feel like I am standing here in my underwear without a whole lot of depth to my lists. Ilse made a comment I can relate to about reading level, and although I have read Tolstoy, Steinbeck, and Chekhov, my literary kung-fu is still waning. I am always looking for good suggestions, so please look at this as an invitation to share your ideas, or even better, a post of your favs.
Walking on Water is a title I share with my creative my friends and have given as a gift many times. I would love to hear comments on it if you have read it. Here is a quote: “As Christians (and artists) we live by revelation, so we must be careful to never get ourselves into rigid molds.”
Top Ten
Walking on Water - Madeline L’Engle
Growing into the Blue - Ulrich Schaffer
Surprised By Light - Ulrich Schaffer
Two-Part Invention - Madeline L’Engle
Power of One - Bryce Courtenay
What’s So Amazing About Grace - Philip Yancey
Ruthless Trust - Brennan Manning
Walking with the Saints - Calvin Miller
Toxic Faith - Stephen Arterburn (thanks LM)
Wild at Heart - John Eldredge
Titles I have read more than once:
Walking on Water - Madeline L’ Engle
Matthew Volume I - William Barclay (a commentary, but a good read)
Walking with the Saints - Calvin Miller
Tree and Leaf - Tolkien
Two-Part Invention - Madeline L’Engle
Listening to Your Life - Frederick Buechner
Ruthless Trust - Brennan Manning
Soul Survivor - Philip Yancey
Surprised by Light - Ulrich Schaffer
Growing into the Blue - Ulrich Schaffer
The Normal Christian Life - Watchman Nee
A Grief Observed- C.S. Lewis
Harold and the Purple Crayon - Crockett Johnson
The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales - Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith
Something Under the Bed is Drooling - Watterson (Calvin and Hobbes)
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - Judith Viorst
Top three authors:
Madeline L’ Engle
Brennan Manning
Phillip Yancey
Walking on Water is a title I share with my creative my friends and have given as a gift many times. I would love to hear comments on it if you have read it. Here is a quote: “As Christians (and artists) we live by revelation, so we must be careful to never get ourselves into rigid molds.”
Top Ten
Walking on Water - Madeline L’Engle
Growing into the Blue - Ulrich Schaffer
Surprised By Light - Ulrich Schaffer
Two-Part Invention - Madeline L’Engle
Power of One - Bryce Courtenay
What’s So Amazing About Grace - Philip Yancey
Ruthless Trust - Brennan Manning
Walking with the Saints - Calvin Miller
Toxic Faith - Stephen Arterburn (thanks LM)
Wild at Heart - John Eldredge
Titles I have read more than once:
Walking on Water - Madeline L’ Engle
Matthew Volume I - William Barclay (a commentary, but a good read)
Walking with the Saints - Calvin Miller
Tree and Leaf - Tolkien
Two-Part Invention - Madeline L’Engle
Listening to Your Life - Frederick Buechner
Ruthless Trust - Brennan Manning
Soul Survivor - Philip Yancey
Surprised by Light - Ulrich Schaffer
Growing into the Blue - Ulrich Schaffer
The Normal Christian Life - Watchman Nee
A Grief Observed- C.S. Lewis
Harold and the Purple Crayon - Crockett Johnson
The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales - Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith
Something Under the Bed is Drooling - Watterson (Calvin and Hobbes)
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - Judith Viorst
Top three authors:
Madeline L’ Engle
Brennan Manning
Phillip Yancey
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Belonging
It has strong heartfelt connotations.
All of us desire it. We sacrifice to attain it, sometimes even trading our lives.
It comes with a decision.
In return we get cards, patches, decals, tattoos, acceptance, a place to fit in.
When we attain it, we get a feeling of being larger than ourselves, of feeling like we are not alone, of being one with another human or being part of a group, a team, a second family.
Couples, families have a strong sense of belonging, even severely dysfunctional and abusive families. (Is it hope that keeps this kind of belonging alive, or fear?)
I get a certain sense of belonging when I blog and get response to words that I have written. I feel a part of something, and it feels good.
I think we are meant to belong to each other. It's normal to innately know this and to innately crave it. As believers in Christ we are one and our deep desire is to see this oneness lived out. Jesus' last prayer before he was crucified wasn't to feed the hungry, heal the sick, or for world evangelism—it was that we would be one as He and the Father are one. (He knew we would have unconquerable power to change the world as one, and by no other means.)
But...what does it look like to put this belonging to a group or person above all else?
We don't make waves, don't question, we play it safe and overlook serious offenses to others and ourselves in the name of "peace." We are afraid of jeopardizing our position, and maybe with that our house, friends and what we think is our security. We don't hold leaders accountable. Our inner warrior becomes our inner jellyfish.
Maybe when we crave above all else to belong to any person or group, no matter how noble the pursuit, no matter how the end justifies the means, we find ourselves allowing this entity to become the god of our lives? Do we find ourselves no longer living by revelation from Christ, but from the revelation of the group and it's leaders, trusting only in their lead?
What do you think? Where has belonging become dangerous?
What does belonging to Jesus look like?
All of us desire it. We sacrifice to attain it, sometimes even trading our lives.
It comes with a decision.
In return we get cards, patches, decals, tattoos, acceptance, a place to fit in.
When we attain it, we get a feeling of being larger than ourselves, of feeling like we are not alone, of being one with another human or being part of a group, a team, a second family.
Couples, families have a strong sense of belonging, even severely dysfunctional and abusive families. (Is it hope that keeps this kind of belonging alive, or fear?)
I get a certain sense of belonging when I blog and get response to words that I have written. I feel a part of something, and it feels good.
I think we are meant to belong to each other. It's normal to innately know this and to innately crave it. As believers in Christ we are one and our deep desire is to see this oneness lived out. Jesus' last prayer before he was crucified wasn't to feed the hungry, heal the sick, or for world evangelism—it was that we would be one as He and the Father are one. (He knew we would have unconquerable power to change the world as one, and by no other means.)
But...what does it look like to put this belonging to a group or person above all else?
We don't make waves, don't question, we play it safe and overlook serious offenses to others and ourselves in the name of "peace." We are afraid of jeopardizing our position, and maybe with that our house, friends and what we think is our security. We don't hold leaders accountable. Our inner warrior becomes our inner jellyfish.
Maybe when we crave above all else to belong to any person or group, no matter how noble the pursuit, no matter how the end justifies the means, we find ourselves allowing this entity to become the god of our lives? Do we find ourselves no longer living by revelation from Christ, but from the revelation of the group and it's leaders, trusting only in their lead?
What do you think? Where has belonging become dangerous?
What does belonging to Jesus look like?
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Learning Healing
I read a news piece about a man who recently regained his sight.
Made me think about the people that Jesus healed, in that they may have been made whole, but had to learn how to incorporate the healing into their everyday lives. The man who recently regained his sight (he lost it at three years) had to learn again what things were and how to relate to simple everyday occurrences as one who can see—no simple task, come to find out. The brain has to learn everything again, literally through new eyes.
When Jesus made the blind see again, I somehow do not think they knew how to totally function. They were healed and whole, but had some work to do. I have read the analogy of this like one walking out of a labyrinth, imagery that speaks volumes.
Coming out from a very controlling and abusive religious situation I realize that re-programming (learning to see and respond to people and normal circumstances) will take some time.
Although much of the wounds are gone over lost relationships and severed trust, I know these scars will mark my life. But, then I think of another who is marked by the scars man has given Him, and I am humbled at the price He paid, "for the joy set before Him."
Made me think about the people that Jesus healed, in that they may have been made whole, but had to learn how to incorporate the healing into their everyday lives. The man who recently regained his sight (he lost it at three years) had to learn again what things were and how to relate to simple everyday occurrences as one who can see—no simple task, come to find out. The brain has to learn everything again, literally through new eyes.
When Jesus made the blind see again, I somehow do not think they knew how to totally function. They were healed and whole, but had some work to do. I have read the analogy of this like one walking out of a labyrinth, imagery that speaks volumes.
Coming out from a very controlling and abusive religious situation I realize that re-programming (learning to see and respond to people and normal circumstances) will take some time.
Although much of the wounds are gone over lost relationships and severed trust, I know these scars will mark my life. But, then I think of another who is marked by the scars man has given Him, and I am humbled at the price He paid, "for the joy set before Him."
Monday, May 7, 2007
A Friend Indeed
I lost a good friend about two years ago.
Not only did we work together every day, we were neighbors. Our families would watch movies together, sing around the piano and even pray together. We celebrated over the birth of my daughter and wept over the loss of her mother. We were as close as brother and sister for about six years.
It wasn't by death that I lost her, but by the silence that comes from a belief that it was wrong for me to question the spiritual authority of the religious group our families were a part of—a group whose leaders had spiritually and emotionally abused our family—in the name of reaching the lost with the love of Christ. A leadership that I had to stand up against.
Many people who were a part of this organization visited us, called us, and helped us process and move forward, shared with us their stories, and to our surprise we found that we were not alone. Many families left the org soon after we were dismissed, and there has been a steady flow ever since of people who wake up to the fact that they are needlessly suffering for the Gospel and that all leadership has to have accountability.
Through all this, my friend has chosen to remain silent, which has left a large hole in my heart that has been difficult to ignore, but slow for me to come to terms with.
So what has happened to me as I have carried this wound? I have had to learn to trust again, but it has been a very gradual process. I have learned that I can only have responsible relationships with responsible people. I am also convinced now that loving someone cannot come without risk of pain, and the closer someone is, the more it hurts when the silence comes.
What else happened? God convinced me He knows who you need in your life to help your heart heal, and pull you out of the ashes.
Over the last year, I have made this kind of friend. She has helped me to laugh with my soul and truly has helped pull me from the muck and distrust I have carried around for too long. She has helped me to think a lot about my family because of how interconnected she is with her own, and has helped me to hunger for heaven because of the sense of justice she owns in standing up for herself and what she believes in. She's not afraid to ask questions, to be herself.
There is a verse that says, "He who waters will himself be watered." Other translations say "he that refreshes "—nonetheless I used to think this meant that if you are a nice and giving person then one day people will be nice and giving to you. Well, we do reap what we sow, but I think this verse has an immediacy to it as in when you refresh someone—you are refreshed at the same time.
This is my hope (and God's promise) for my friend. If you ever read this, thank you! Be well watered!
Not only did we work together every day, we were neighbors. Our families would watch movies together, sing around the piano and even pray together. We celebrated over the birth of my daughter and wept over the loss of her mother. We were as close as brother and sister for about six years.
It wasn't by death that I lost her, but by the silence that comes from a belief that it was wrong for me to question the spiritual authority of the religious group our families were a part of—a group whose leaders had spiritually and emotionally abused our family—in the name of reaching the lost with the love of Christ. A leadership that I had to stand up against.
Many people who were a part of this organization visited us, called us, and helped us process and move forward, shared with us their stories, and to our surprise we found that we were not alone. Many families left the org soon after we were dismissed, and there has been a steady flow ever since of people who wake up to the fact that they are needlessly suffering for the Gospel and that all leadership has to have accountability.
Through all this, my friend has chosen to remain silent, which has left a large hole in my heart that has been difficult to ignore, but slow for me to come to terms with.
So what has happened to me as I have carried this wound? I have had to learn to trust again, but it has been a very gradual process. I have learned that I can only have responsible relationships with responsible people. I am also convinced now that loving someone cannot come without risk of pain, and the closer someone is, the more it hurts when the silence comes.
What else happened? God convinced me He knows who you need in your life to help your heart heal, and pull you out of the ashes.
Over the last year, I have made this kind of friend. She has helped me to laugh with my soul and truly has helped pull me from the muck and distrust I have carried around for too long. She has helped me to think a lot about my family because of how interconnected she is with her own, and has helped me to hunger for heaven because of the sense of justice she owns in standing up for herself and what she believes in. She's not afraid to ask questions, to be herself.
There is a verse that says, "He who waters will himself be watered." Other translations say "he that refreshes "—nonetheless I used to think this meant that if you are a nice and giving person then one day people will be nice and giving to you. Well, we do reap what we sow, but I think this verse has an immediacy to it as in when you refresh someone—you are refreshed at the same time.
This is my hope (and God's promise) for my friend. If you ever read this, thank you! Be well watered!
Sunday, May 6, 2007
"Fours"
I was "tagged" by Laura on Seedlings to this list of fours, so here goes:
Four places I have lived:
Illinois
California
Texas
Wisconsin
Four jobs I have had:
Rodeo Clown/Notary Public (okay, I made this one up)
Editorial Illustrator
Canoeing Instructor
Art Director
Four films I watch over and over:
Last of the Mohicans
Kung Pow
Gladiator
Blackhawk Down
Four favorite foods:
Watermelon
Pot-stickers
Oatmeal raisin bars (with frosting)
Any meal shared with friends
Four favorite TV shows:
Sunday Morning on CBS
Alias (now on DVD)
Lost
This Old House
Four places I'd rather be now:
Giving my wife a foot massage
Watching my son play football
Glacier Point, Yosemite National Park
In a hot-tub with friends
Four places I have lived:
Illinois
California
Texas
Wisconsin
Four jobs I have had:
Rodeo Clown/Notary Public (okay, I made this one up)
Editorial Illustrator
Canoeing Instructor
Art Director
Four films I watch over and over:
Last of the Mohicans
Kung Pow
Gladiator
Blackhawk Down
Four favorite foods:
Watermelon
Pot-stickers
Oatmeal raisin bars (with frosting)
Any meal shared with friends
Four favorite TV shows:
Sunday Morning on CBS
Alias (now on DVD)
Lost
This Old House
Four places I'd rather be now:
Giving my wife a foot massage
Watching my son play football
Glacier Point, Yosemite National Park
In a hot-tub with friends
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Delight
I watch them when they are not looking and sometimes when they are. My eyes find it hard to release the fixation. Whether it is an "ordinary" thing they are doing or something extraordinary my eyes soak them in like a dry sponge, especially when they are sleeping.
I delight in them.
Dropping them off one by one at their schools, I get a quick "love you" from my 14-year old while he glances at himself in the reflection of the truck window before slinging his backpack over his 6' 1'" frame. As he walks to the front doors I pray for him to be a light to his classmates. It's his first year in this school and in this town, but he has done well and I am proud of his determination and of his kindness. He amazed me two months ago by agreeing to go to a turnabout dance with a girl who has some special needs. Blew me away. He told me later he couldn't believe how the other girls were impressed by this—maybe it was a glimpse for them into his heart. It was for me, and I thought I knew him.
(I ran bleachers with him tonight after his track meet and heard about his friends and what he is thinking of doing this summer to get prepared for football. It was good to just be with him on his terms. We also ran some 50's and 100's together and I officially can no longer stay with him past 60 meters. I knew the day would come, but not so soon.)
My kindergardener and I are the first to arrive at the elementary school. Soon moms and dads roll up in the minis and SUVs. I am surprised at how many pajama bottoms I see poking out of the winter coats.
We unbuckle and talk for a while until a friend arrives and I walk her toward the doors. Looking around I see a lot of parents holding little hands and notice all of the backpacks look way too big. When we get to the doors she makes two attempts to give me a kiss in front of her friend and a quick hug. I make sure her coat is zipped and backpack is okay before whispering into her ear "I love you." I can feel the moisture start to form on my eyes as I turn to go. Then experience an odd sense that life, learning isn't supposed to be this way even though it is and wish she could just hang out with me for the day. As I walk back to my truck I pray for her protection, abundant creativity and for her to be a joyful soul.
When I see her at home after our days are done I always ask her the same three questions: Did you make any friends? Did you foofer in class? Did you hit anyone? (She laughs every time.)
I know the day is fast approaching this year when winter will undress and spring will clothe this rural college town. My bike will come out of hibernation and mom will make these morning drops. So today, I soak it all in and feel the delight of them being my children and of the wonder I find in being their dad.
I delight in them.
Dropping them off one by one at their schools, I get a quick "love you" from my 14-year old while he glances at himself in the reflection of the truck window before slinging his backpack over his 6' 1'" frame. As he walks to the front doors I pray for him to be a light to his classmates. It's his first year in this school and in this town, but he has done well and I am proud of his determination and of his kindness. He amazed me two months ago by agreeing to go to a turnabout dance with a girl who has some special needs. Blew me away. He told me later he couldn't believe how the other girls were impressed by this—maybe it was a glimpse for them into his heart. It was for me, and I thought I knew him.
(I ran bleachers with him tonight after his track meet and heard about his friends and what he is thinking of doing this summer to get prepared for football. It was good to just be with him on his terms. We also ran some 50's and 100's together and I officially can no longer stay with him past 60 meters. I knew the day would come, but not so soon.)
My kindergardener and I are the first to arrive at the elementary school. Soon moms and dads roll up in the minis and SUVs. I am surprised at how many pajama bottoms I see poking out of the winter coats.
We unbuckle and talk for a while until a friend arrives and I walk her toward the doors. Looking around I see a lot of parents holding little hands and notice all of the backpacks look way too big. When we get to the doors she makes two attempts to give me a kiss in front of her friend and a quick hug. I make sure her coat is zipped and backpack is okay before whispering into her ear "I love you." I can feel the moisture start to form on my eyes as I turn to go. Then experience an odd sense that life, learning isn't supposed to be this way even though it is and wish she could just hang out with me for the day. As I walk back to my truck I pray for her protection, abundant creativity and for her to be a joyful soul.
When I see her at home after our days are done I always ask her the same three questions: Did you make any friends? Did you foofer in class? Did you hit anyone? (She laughs every time.)
I know the day is fast approaching this year when winter will undress and spring will clothe this rural college town. My bike will come out of hibernation and mom will make these morning drops. So today, I soak it all in and feel the delight of them being my children and of the wonder I find in being their dad.
Monday, March 19, 2007
On Growth
Man's mind and spirit grow with the space in which they are allowed to operate. —Krafft A. Ehricke, rocket pioneer
The man who can drive himself further once the effort gets painful is the one who will win.—Roger Bannister
Don't be afraid; just believe. —Jesus
In our dreams we are able to fly . . . and that is a remembering of how we were meant to be. —Madeleine L'Engle,
The sea is dangerous and its storms terrible, but these obstacles have never been sufficient reason to remain ashore. . . . Unlike the mediocre, intrepid spirits seek victory over those things that seem impossible. . . . It is with an iron will that they embark on the most daring of all endeavors. . . . to meet the shadowy future without fear and conquer the unknown.
—Unknown
When we walk to the edge of all the light we have and take the step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for us to stand on or we will be taught to fly. —Patrick Overton
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.— Isaiah 43:18-19.
The man who can drive himself further once the effort gets painful is the one who will win.—Roger Bannister
Don't be afraid; just believe. —Jesus
In our dreams we are able to fly . . . and that is a remembering of how we were meant to be. —Madeleine L'Engle,
The sea is dangerous and its storms terrible, but these obstacles have never been sufficient reason to remain ashore. . . . Unlike the mediocre, intrepid spirits seek victory over those things that seem impossible. . . . It is with an iron will that they embark on the most daring of all endeavors. . . . to meet the shadowy future without fear and conquer the unknown.
—Unknown
When we walk to the edge of all the light we have and take the step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for us to stand on or we will be taught to fly. —Patrick Overton
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.— Isaiah 43:18-19.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Heart for Hurting People
I saw a website today about how a ministry "has a real heart for hurting people."
Hmmmm.
I want to hurt people too sometimes, but I didn't know THAT could be a ministry!
Have I found my true calling?
Hmmmm.
I want to hurt people too sometimes, but I didn't know THAT could be a ministry!
Have I found my true calling?
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Validation in Ministry
After working in full-time ministry for 10 years, and now not working within a ministry full time, I struggle with feelings of validation, of making a direct difference in the world and often question if I am doing enough for God or doing enough important stuff for God.
This leads me to the question: How can one's life, or the work they do be more important than another's in God's eyes?
I remember being asked to speak to a large group of missionary students in a developing country. These men and women would soon be will planting churches, enduring hardships and facing physical opposition, maybe even martyrdom. My job was to raise money and awareness for them and their families so they could eat, have a home and well, be missionaries. My job was not as exciting as theirs one could say, or as visible, but who would argue which job was more important. How about the people that supported my family while we did our work to support their families?
Looking at scripture, I read:
But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, "I don't need you!" And the head cannot say to the feet, "I don't need you!" On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. (1 Corinthians 12)
If we are interconnected as one body, we are all interconnected in ministry. I think this means working together as one. Mother Teresa said that sometimes we have to do the small things so God can do the big things.
Going on, in Romans 12: For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us.
What I learn from this is I must guard against trying to validate myself and just participate (be the part of the body I am) as I am led by His Spirit in other people's lives. We belong to one another.
Sometimes this participation is a cup of cold water, making a brochure, or changing a poopy diaper. It could be in Calcutta or in Crystal Lake. Sometimes the picture is clear how we all connect, but we look through a glass dimly and catch glimpses of the big picture mostly from the rear-view mirror.
Is it possible that as I aim towards where my great passion and where the worlds great need intersect, I will be doing what I need to be doing as long as I listen to the love of God in my life? Being me? I think so.
What negates all of this? If I put my passion or call for mission or ministry before people, before love. If a calling or vision to get a job done becomes more important than the people I am doing it with, becomes more important than my family the word of God is clear on that—it profits me nothing. (1 Cor. 13)
Mother Teresa said that faithfulness is more important than success. When we stand before God on judgment day will He say, "well done my good and successful servant?" No, He will say, "well done my good and faithful servant."
"Now abide in these three, faith hope and love, but the greatest of these is love."
More thoughts on Body life at this link
This leads me to the question: How can one's life, or the work they do be more important than another's in God's eyes?
I remember being asked to speak to a large group of missionary students in a developing country. These men and women would soon be will planting churches, enduring hardships and facing physical opposition, maybe even martyrdom. My job was to raise money and awareness for them and their families so they could eat, have a home and well, be missionaries. My job was not as exciting as theirs one could say, or as visible, but who would argue which job was more important. How about the people that supported my family while we did our work to support their families?
Looking at scripture, I read:
But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, "I don't need you!" And the head cannot say to the feet, "I don't need you!" On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. (1 Corinthians 12)
If we are interconnected as one body, we are all interconnected in ministry. I think this means working together as one. Mother Teresa said that sometimes we have to do the small things so God can do the big things.
Going on, in Romans 12: For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us.
What I learn from this is I must guard against trying to validate myself and just participate (be the part of the body I am) as I am led by His Spirit in other people's lives. We belong to one another.
Sometimes this participation is a cup of cold water, making a brochure, or changing a poopy diaper. It could be in Calcutta or in Crystal Lake. Sometimes the picture is clear how we all connect, but we look through a glass dimly and catch glimpses of the big picture mostly from the rear-view mirror.
Is it possible that as I aim towards where my great passion and where the worlds great need intersect, I will be doing what I need to be doing as long as I listen to the love of God in my life? Being me? I think so.
What negates all of this? If I put my passion or call for mission or ministry before people, before love. If a calling or vision to get a job done becomes more important than the people I am doing it with, becomes more important than my family the word of God is clear on that—it profits me nothing. (1 Cor. 13)
Mother Teresa said that faithfulness is more important than success. When we stand before God on judgment day will He say, "well done my good and successful servant?" No, He will say, "well done my good and faithful servant."
"Now abide in these three, faith hope and love, but the greatest of these is love."
More thoughts on Body life at this link
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Clicking the Mouse WITH MY BARE HAND
My son and I were driving together yesterday and we were talking about lifting weights, genetics and what makes a person a great athlete. To top it off the "World's Strongest Man" marathon was on ESPN (and the USA brought home the title for 2007!)
He reminded me of a story I told him a few years ago about a friend of mine from Nigeria who was known in his village as "the son of a man who killed a lion with his bare hands" and how amazing that things like this actually happen. He then looked over at me with a grin and said, "I'm the son of a man who works in a cubicle."
Lately, I have been pondering what kind of legacy I want to leave for my children. When I mentioned this to a friend they reminded me my children ARE my legacy, which got me thinking.
I was talking with the president of a mission organization tonight as he was preparing to be gone for two weeks. He said that he tried being gone for longer periods of time to save money last year but his family took the toll, and it wasn't worth it to him to be gone for so long anymore. He values—cherishes time with his wife and kids.
This is quite a contrast to another fellow I know in the same position who would be gone months at a time and lament that it was a price his kids would have to pay to "reach the lost." Maybe God called him away and it was okay for his wife to teach the kids that Jesus wanted daddy to be gone so much. Maybe it's a cultural thing I don't understand. Maybe I just think families should be together more than the next guy, maybe. Although his kids have grown up to work in missions I wonder what it would have been like if he made his children and his wife a bigger part of his legacy.
What will my legacy be?
He reminded me of a story I told him a few years ago about a friend of mine from Nigeria who was known in his village as "the son of a man who killed a lion with his bare hands" and how amazing that things like this actually happen. He then looked over at me with a grin and said, "I'm the son of a man who works in a cubicle."
Lately, I have been pondering what kind of legacy I want to leave for my children. When I mentioned this to a friend they reminded me my children ARE my legacy, which got me thinking.
I was talking with the president of a mission organization tonight as he was preparing to be gone for two weeks. He said that he tried being gone for longer periods of time to save money last year but his family took the toll, and it wasn't worth it to him to be gone for so long anymore. He values—cherishes time with his wife and kids.
This is quite a contrast to another fellow I know in the same position who would be gone months at a time and lament that it was a price his kids would have to pay to "reach the lost." Maybe God called him away and it was okay for his wife to teach the kids that Jesus wanted daddy to be gone so much. Maybe it's a cultural thing I don't understand. Maybe I just think families should be together more than the next guy, maybe. Although his kids have grown up to work in missions I wonder what it would have been like if he made his children and his wife a bigger part of his legacy.
What will my legacy be?
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Socks on a Dog
There are clothing items made only for man. One of these, my guess at least, are socks. However, when the temperature is 11 degrees below zero and you have an indoor dog that "goes" outside, you have to put something over their paws or the cold drops them to the ground like a tranquilized elephant—and the fun of retrieving them in in your bathrobe commences.
Now, this is no big deal with a Chihuaua, Westy or even a Pitbull, but when your German Shepherd goes down in the arctic you kinda wish you would have kept the gym membership a few more months as you scamper out in the blizzard to carry the beast inside (all the time wishing you would have put up that fence last fall so this drama wouldn't have played out in your neighbors yard.)
Back to the socks. Last year we used tube socks and medical tape to suit up our canine to "tinkle in the tundra." This year we bought the real deal that has leather feet and a network of suspenders which web over her back to keep them on. Sweet? Sure, in a perfect world where you can tranquilize your dog, slip on the socks, revive them and then let them out. But after you rob man's best friend of all guard-dog dignity by showing the socks to her, you pick up one foot at a time and try to slide it in the sock being careful not catch her claws or dew-claw in the process. It's like holding a handful of butter knives and then simply attempting to slip a sock over that hand—four times—and all of this before coffee.
Let us pray for an early Spring.
Now, this is no big deal with a Chihuaua, Westy or even a Pitbull, but when your German Shepherd goes down in the arctic you kinda wish you would have kept the gym membership a few more months as you scamper out in the blizzard to carry the beast inside (all the time wishing you would have put up that fence last fall so this drama wouldn't have played out in your neighbors yard.)
Back to the socks. Last year we used tube socks and medical tape to suit up our canine to "tinkle in the tundra." This year we bought the real deal that has leather feet and a network of suspenders which web over her back to keep them on. Sweet? Sure, in a perfect world where you can tranquilize your dog, slip on the socks, revive them and then let them out. But after you rob man's best friend of all guard-dog dignity by showing the socks to her, you pick up one foot at a time and try to slide it in the sock being careful not catch her claws or dew-claw in the process. It's like holding a handful of butter knives and then simply attempting to slip a sock over that hand—four times—and all of this before coffee.
Let us pray for an early Spring.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Rule Number Two
I have a few guidelines that helps life be more livable. I am sure they have been said in many different ways, but who cares...this is my blog so here goes:
Rule Number One: God is in control. No matter how bad things get or how many answers we don't have, God is the final word on everything and He loves us. There is nothing you can do to make Him love you more, nothing you can do to make Him love you less.
Rule Number Two: People are goofy. Sometimes there is no visible or viable rhyme or reason for the way people act except for Rule Number Two (including ourselves.)
Rule Number Three: You can only have responsible relationships with responsible people.
Rule Number Four: You never lose your investment in a good tool.
Rule Number Five: Love people, risk letting people get close enough to your heart to love deeply and even if they cause you pain...love is ultimately worth it.
Rule Number One: God is in control. No matter how bad things get or how many answers we don't have, God is the final word on everything and He loves us. There is nothing you can do to make Him love you more, nothing you can do to make Him love you less.
Rule Number Two: People are goofy. Sometimes there is no visible or viable rhyme or reason for the way people act except for Rule Number Two (including ourselves.)
Rule Number Three: You can only have responsible relationships with responsible people.
Rule Number Four: You never lose your investment in a good tool.
Rule Number Five: Love people, risk letting people get close enough to your heart to love deeply and even if they cause you pain...love is ultimately worth it.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Kindergarden Lunch Date
I just got back to my home studio after having a lunch date with my daughter and 150 of her “closest friends.”
First of all, since my wife wasn’t home from shopping with our vehicle, I resorted to riding my motorcycle since I decided my daughter’s school was close enough for a short winter ride. Then, I decided it was too close to wear gloves or hat, and I would look cooler if I didn’t. Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.
It was too weird walking through the lunch line. Kids were hanging off of my arms, my shirt, holding my hands-it was like I had on velcro. They wouldn’t shake loose.
We had stimulating lunch conversation. One girl asked my daughter, “Does your dad cry, he’s so big?” I jumped in and let her know that in fact I do cry. She then said, “Okay, cry right now.” I then broke into the third scene from Hamlet where...okay, not really, I just did a good fake cry and make them laugh short of milk squirting out of their noses.
Before I left I called home to see if my Mrs. would run over some gloves and my helmet, my nice WARM helmet. No answer...argh! I decided to go for it and made the ride home in a freezing drizzle only to find her home getting out of a hot bath. I took my jacket off to find six kids still velcroed to me. I wonder if I can pull them off with tweezers?
First of all, since my wife wasn’t home from shopping with our vehicle, I resorted to riding my motorcycle since I decided my daughter’s school was close enough for a short winter ride. Then, I decided it was too close to wear gloves or hat, and I would look cooler if I didn’t. Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.
It was too weird walking through the lunch line. Kids were hanging off of my arms, my shirt, holding my hands-it was like I had on velcro. They wouldn’t shake loose.
We had stimulating lunch conversation. One girl asked my daughter, “Does your dad cry, he’s so big?” I jumped in and let her know that in fact I do cry. She then said, “Okay, cry right now.” I then broke into the third scene from Hamlet where...okay, not really, I just did a good fake cry and make them laugh short of milk squirting out of their noses.
Before I left I called home to see if my Mrs. would run over some gloves and my helmet, my nice WARM helmet. No answer...argh! I decided to go for it and made the ride home in a freezing drizzle only to find her home getting out of a hot bath. I took my jacket off to find six kids still velcroed to me. I wonder if I can pull them off with tweezers?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)