Blessed Suspension...

We rush. We scurry. We scamper. We almost wear it like a badge of honor. We greet each other with lamentations about how busy we are...about how much there is to do...about how crazy jam packed our schedule is. We finish those discussions with a shrug of the shoulders and a somewhat flippant, "Oh well...tis the season." Merry Christmas.

To be honest, I'm trying to determine if I really am that much busier during this time of year or if I have just become accustomed to the dialogue...to "Oh well...tis the season." Frankly, I'm pretty busy all the time...regardless of the season. But, no matter...we rush. We scurry. We scamper.

Ironically, this season of relentless activity is also the time that most things just stop...are disregarded...are suspended. Those of you in sales know that you can pretty much forget about making appointments from Thanksgiving on. Potential customers say, "Call me after the first of the year...we'll get together then." My daughter's basketball team played their last game of the year on December 19th. The schedule will resume in January. School is out until January 5th or so. Sometime on Christmas Eve, most stores will close. There will be about 36 hours of total lock down. No haggling...no packaging...no assembly. For the most part, commerce is suspended. Banks will close. The mail won't run. Factories stand idle and quiet.

There is a deeper level of suspension as well. We won't think about that health concern until Christmas is over. We will not worry about family finances until Christmas is over. We will put off that decision until the first of the new year. That thing that is bothering us, that thing that must be confronted, that thing that must be dealt with, that thing that is going to affect us, that thing that will have an impact on our lives...well...it will just have to wait...whatever it is...because it's Christmas.

I think there can be something profoundly blessed in the suspension. It is in the suspension...the time that we just stop all that we do...that we remember. Our breathing catches...we blink absently...and then it dawns on us all over again.

Christmas means many different things to many different people. But, if you condense all the many meanings of Christmas down to one simple truth...you will always end up with just four words. Over and over and over again...four words...God is with us.

It would have been a busy, anxious, confusing time for Joseph and Mary too. For Joseph, there were the normal things...making a living...preparing to be married...building a future. Then his wife-to-be is suddenly pregnant...and not by him. The news would have started his world spinning as he tried to discern how to deal with the situation. Then an angel appeared and told him not to worry about it and that Mary would give birth to a son that would save all people from their sins. Near the same time, an angel was visiting Mary and telling her not to worry about the fact that she was pregnant and that she would give birth to the holy one which would be called the Son of God. In the midst of all this news, Caesar Augustus decided to hold a census so everyone had to go to his "hometown" to register. "Oh great!", Joseph must have thought. Now he had to take his pregnant wife...who was nearly ready to deliver...and travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem in order to meet his obligations as an inhabitant. Of course, they couldn't find a room so they go out to a stable...a cave probably...and hoped to call it a night. Mary goes into labor...the baby is coming.

The baby is born. At some point, I imagine that Mary and Joseph experience the blessed suspension. A real baby...crying real tears. Their breath catches...they blink absently and everything just stops. It dawns on them...God is with us. He is on our planet...in our midst...in this manger. The prophesy is fulfilled. It now makes sense. The Holy God of Israel...the One of whom the angels speak.

Emmanuel. Jesus. God is with us.

And so, here we are in 2008...busy...frantic...bordering on panic. Some are afraid, confused, dazed. All of us are trying to make sense of the things in our lives. Then...the blessed suspension. Everything just stops. It dawns on us again. It is Christmas.

God is with us. Those same four words which changed human history can change us too. Those four words are the only words that can bring meaning to the deepest parts of us. No matter what we are facing...we are not alone...and we never have been...and we never will be. Because God in Christ wrapped himself in human flesh. The God of the Universe stepped out of eternity and in to time..in to human history...in order to communicate one, simple truth. God is with us.

The blessed suspension.

Just four words...

God is with us.

Merry Christmas everyone.

I love you.

Champions!

I have been waiting for it rather anxiously. It appeared this morning on my MSN homepage. I can hardly wait to dive in to my 2008-09 edition of the complete Bowl Game Viewer's Guide. It details information about each of the teams and highlights key players. It analyzes the match ups and ranks them from worst to first in order of interest. It even offers me a chance to pick the game winners either privately for my own enjoyment or in a contest with other online players.

The fact is, I love watching college football. Over the course of the next three weeks, I'm going to watch a lot of it.

I'm going to watch Texas Tech and Ole Miss in the Cotton Bowl because I think it will be a fun game. I'm going to watch Oklahoma State play Oregon because I love Justin Roper...the Oregon quarterback. He, his family and I go to church together. I'm going to be pulling for Georgia Tech against LSU in the Chick-fil-et Bowl because my neighbor Loree Anne's boyfriend is Tech's running back..Lucas Cox, #36. He seems to be a good guy. (I am quickly becoming a Tech fan. I think it is because they had the courage to play the Gardner-Webb runnin' bulldogs this year - my Alma Mater. By the way...Tech only won by 3.) I wish Louisville had beaten Cincy, or Rutgers, or West Virginia so I could watch Hunter Cantwell play one more time. Hunter and his family are former church members too. Hunter is a class act headed for great things. I'm going to be pulling for Georgia to beat Michigan State because...well...I'm a bit of a Georgia homer. Don't know why.

Then of course, there is Oklahoma vs. Florida in the BCS Championship game. I'm going to be pulling for both teams. Actually, I'm going to be pulling for both quarterbacks. I want them both to have amazing games...to do amazing things. I want them to make history. I want their names to be household words. I want them to become legends.

Why...? So that the next time Sam Bradford, the OK quarterback, is doing an interview for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes magazine Share The Victory...or the next time he is doing a video bible study series for them....kids might listen a bit closer. Or, the next time the Gator QB Tim Tebow is sharing his faith with orphaned kids in the Philippines or sharing his faith in a prison somewhere...he might be heard.

I don't care who wins the game. You see, to me it is not being a champion that matters...but rather what or who you are a champion for.

These talented guys are just kids really. They aren't perfect. But they do have a voice...pray for them...that they can be heard.
Check out this short video about Tim Tebow.

The Santa Claus or the Reindeer?

He'll be 84 in July. He is a preacher....and has been for over 60 years. His has been a life dedicated to sharing the love of Christ with whomever is in front of him...wherever he might be.

He is from a family of preachers. His Father and several of his brothers have spent their lives climbing in to pulpits and ministering to their respective congregations. His is a rich and storied heritage.

There is no counting the number of sermons he has preached. More importantly, there is no counting the number of hours he has spent in preparing messages of truth and encouragement for those in his congregations. It is a labor of love....the love of Christ in him.

He has made stands...with integrity...with courage...with consistency. He was essentially run out of South Carolina for refusing to compromise...to bow...to concede. His stand there (many years ago) was that all are equal in the eyes of God. Race, gender, social status, and economic strata do not matter. His sacrifice...his stand...was a labor of love. The love of Christ in him.

He moved into an assisted living facility with his precious wife, now deceased, a few years ago. It was his newest "congregation." He shepards them. He patiently rounds them up and helps them get here and there. It is a labor of love...the love of Christ in him.

In his retirement...remember he is 83...he spends his days as a volunteer chaplain at Emory Johns Creek Hospital. He visits with every patient and their families. He prays with them. He encourages them. He lightens their load even though it is more than a little difficult, physically, for him to walk those halls. It is a labor of love...The love of Christ in him.

He is a legend. He is known. He is a theologian. He is a modern day martyr.

He shares the love of Christ with whomever is in front of him...wherever he might be.

This past Wednesday, it was in the living room of a neighbor at Ivy Hall...where he lives. Ironically, it was the same living room that he and his wife lived in when she was alive. After her death...he moved into a smaller place so as to make room for others. He had been at "craft time." The project for the day was making and decorating Christmas stockings. I can only imagine what creative thoughts were going through his mind. He was not preparing a sermon...he was making a stocking. He was not delving into scripture...he was delving into felt. He was not studying theology...he was manipulating scissors and Elmer's Glue. I can bet you, however, that the most prevalent thing on his mind was the woman upstairs who was keeping vigil at her husband's side. The woman upstairs who was going to say her earthly goodbye's to the man she had been married to for 66 years at any moment. The woman upstairs who couldn't make it to "craft time."

So...he made two stockings.

He came into the room balancing the creations on one arm while clutching his cane in his other hand. He put his cane down and spread his feet in order to balance himself. He presented both stockings to the woman...he held them out proudly. He said, "Do you want the Santa Claus or the Reindeer." Your choice.

All his theology...all his preparation...all his legend...all his martyrdom...all his ministry was summed up in that one simple question.

You see...it was a labor of love...the love of Christ in him.

With whomever is in front of you...wherever you are...however you can...love.

Jesus...Not Just An Ornament

It is easy to get caught up in it. I do...every year. I'm neither ashamed nor embarrassed. The fact is, I love Christmas! I love everything about it.

I love shopping on the day after Thanksgiving with Connie. I go so far as to map out our shopping trip. I love the savings, the crowds, the piped in music in the stores, and seeing so many people in their carefully chosen Christmas shopping outfits. (For the record...I just throw on some jeans and a golf hat.) Mostly though, I just like being with Connie.

I love holding the ladder for Austin as he climbs...high...to hang the wreaths and bows on the windows of our house. This year, since our shrubbery out front has grown enough, Austin covered them with tiny white lights. I love the way it looks...and the way it makes me feel.

Much to our neighbors chagrin, we rigged up the giant, white, inflatable polar bear tonight. I love pulling up to our house at night and seeing it there...with hat and scarf and clutching a candy cane.

I love pulling out my chain saw and cutting the tree to fit. Truth is, I only cut about 2 inches off the bottom even though it wasn't really necessary to cut any length at all. I just like using my chainsaw at Christmas. By the way...I am from North Carolina and didn't grow up a city dweller. (I like using my Black & Decker to drill a perfectly centered quarter inch hole in the trunk of the tree for the tree stand too.)

Katie is now tall enough to help me string the lights on the tree. She loves Christmas as much as me. She won't sleep much between now and December 25th.

We'll now spend the rest of the week hanging an ornament or two on the tree as we walk by. We'll pull out some combinations of decorations and try to remember where we usually put them. We won't really remember...but it won't matter.

We'll go to parties and productions. We'll make Christmas cookies and fudge. We'll shop a little more. We'll watch movies.

We'll go to church on Christmas eve (I'll go several times...). We'll come home and sing some carols. Zack will probably play the guitar this year...he is now a far better player than me. We'll allow the kids to open one present (I caved on that one. I held out til two years ago...I got tired of being such a Scrooge about it.) Someone will read the Christmas story from the bible. I will read Twas the Night Before Christmas. We'll send the kids to bed and then...well...you know the drill.

Christmas morning will be so fun. I love...OK...I"m going to say it...I'm going to tell the truth...I LOVE seeing what Santa brought and I LOVE opening the presents we have bought for each other. I just do. I like presents....sue me.

I'll make the sausage balls. We'll play and read and nap and eat all day.

You may be asking, "OK Dave...Where is Christ is all of this celebration? Sounds highly secular to me." You are right. It is. The fact is, Christ is where he always is. I try...I really try...to make the Christ the center of my existence every day...not just at Christmas. Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace...Savior and Lord...every day. Not just another tradition...not just another ornament...not just another decoration. Not a seasonal spirituality or devotion in hyper drive.

I love Christmas. I love it in December.

I love Jesus...every moment of every day.

Enjoy this video from onetimeblind. They make the point well.

Hope Springs Eternal

The two venues could not have been more different. The circumstances that brought me to each were completely opposite of each other. The occasions were a mere hour apart. Just 60 minutes.

This past Tuesday night, I sat in the second row in the auditorium of Free Chapel in Gainesville, Georgia. The room was carefully decorated for Christmas. The lighting and the images on the three large screens created the feeling of being in a holiday, winter wonderland. I was among hundreds of parents, grandparents, siblings and friends who had gathered to participate in the annual Lakeview Academy Candlelight Service. It is a beautiful thing.

On this night, the children sing. Every student - from pre-K through 5th grade. Each student takes the stage with his or her class and performs a carefully rehearsed song for the season. Their outfits have been carefully assembled as well. Each child is decked out in their Christmas finest. There are lots of reds and greens and plaids and bows and ties. The evening culminates with the lighting of candles and the singing of Silent Night led by the Seniors of the Academy. It is beautiful and meaningful and warming.

I don't know why she, in particular, caught my eye...but she did. All of the children are cute and fun to watch. I suppose she was just representative of them all to me. If I had to guess, I'd say she was Korean. A second grader. Thin and petite. Her dress was a Christmas plaid...carefully chosen and fitted. Her hair was pulled back behind her head and gave residence to a big, red bow. Her legs were fitted with tights which featured Santa Claus. Her eyes were bright and smiling as she sang along with her classmates...just like they had practiced.

Her mother was beaming. Mom's heart was overflowing with love for her little girl. You could see it on her face. She loves her child in a way that no one else can. She may have thought of her on the day she was born. She remembers special moments shared during days gone by. She remembers the joy the child has brought into her life. More than anything, she fosters enormous hopes for her future. Mom sees her through the lens of what her little girl can grow to become. She is connected to her child in a special way...a way that never changes. Hope springs eternal. It was heart warming to watch.

One hour earlier, it was a very different scene. There was nothing festive or celebratory about Courtroom No. 2 in the Forsyth County Courthouse. There was no music. There were no beautiful images being projected onto a screen. In fact, the only screen in the room was for showing taped footage from security cameras. Parents, grandparents, friends and siblings were seated in the gallery for a very different reason.

He didn't take his place in the room as part of a carefully choreographed production. He was escorted by a uniformed deputy who had brought him from the jail across the street. His was not carefully chosen Christmas finery...it was simply the next orange jumpsuit on the stack. There were no Santa Clauses...only a number. He didn't raise his hands in joyful song. His hands were cuffed behind his back. I sat behind and slightly to the right of his mother. She is a friend of mine. I love her. She inspires me. I watched her.

Though a bit strained with tension and anticipation...His mother was beaming. Mom's heart was overflowing with love for her little boy. You could see it on her face. She loves her child in a way that no one else can. She may have thought of him on the day he was born. She remembers special moments shared during days gone by. She remembers the joy the child has brought into her life. More than anything, she fosters enormous hopes for his future. Mom sees him through the lens of what her little boy can grow to become. She is connected to her child in a special way...a way that never changes. Hope springs eternal. It was heart warming to watch.

Sixty minutes apart. Totally different...and yet exactly the same.

God, the Father, looks at us and He beams. His heart is overflowing with love for His children. You can see it in His nature...in His actions...in His sacrifice. He loves us, His children, in a way that no one else can. He remembers the day we were born. He remembers special moments shared during days gone by. He considers us His joy. More than anything, He fosters an enormous hope for our future. He sees us through the lens of what we can grow to become. He is connected to us in a special way...a way that never changes.

No matter who we are.

No matter where we are.

No matter what we have done.

No matter what we may do in the future.

Hope springs eternal.

Let your hearts be warmed everybody...God's peace to you all.

Pure, Simple Joy

Many times in life, it seems, the true enjoyment and appreciation of a thing only comes when it's over...when it has been accomplished or completed. After the fact, the thing is relived and reflected upon. Stories, which become more grandiose with the passing of time, emerge and are retold. A feeling of pure joy comes with the backward glance.

I first learned of this human inclination many years ago as a backpacker. My partner was most often John Rose. He was a kindred spirit. We shared a love for the mountains, for fishing, for Willie Nelson, for driving our car down county roads in an effort to become lost and for backpacking. Most of all, we shared a love for each other.

For us, there was a thin line between the definitions of hiking and being alive. When a trip was on the horizon (which was nearly every weekend and school break), we would start to plan and scheme and dream. We would load our backpacks and carry them in our cars days in advance...so as to be ready to head out at a moments notice. When the day arrived, we would lace up our boots, balance our packs, equalize our loads, and stand there at the trail head looking up. With a sideways glance and a hint of a smile, we would start walking. We knew, however, that the hike wouldn't be a walk in the park. We would have to keep our gear, not to mention our feet, dry when crossing streams or rivers. Sometimes we failed. The climb to the summit would be steep and would cause our leg and back muscles to beg for relief. There would be countless switchbacks which have a way of playing on your mind. It is difficult to turn and walk in a direction that seems to be leading you away from your destination...from the goal of the summit. There would be turned ankles from choosing the wrong rock to step on. There would be trips and falls from misjudging the height of an unearthed tree root (or from simply not having the energy to step that high). There would be times of getting stuck while trying to crawl through the limbs of a tree that had fallen over the trail. There would be times when we would be uncertain if we were even on the trail at all. We constantly battled regulating our body temperatures and staying hydrated. Sometimes it would rain. Sometimes it would get dark.

There was, of course, euphoria when we reached the top. It would be short lived. There was firewood to gather. If we had chosen to take them along, there would be tents to set up. There was water to be found and canteens to be refilled. There was dinner to cook. Then there was the cold. I can remember spending more than one sleepless night wrapped in a North Face mummy bag with only my nose poking out. I can remember waking up to frost inside my tent which had formed from my breath.

The trip down whichever mountain we had climbed would be no real picnic either.

But, none of it would matter when we were dry, warm, and sitting at the nearest pizza place. That was our tradition. We would stop and eat pizza and begin telling the stories. It was in those moments, sitting there with John reflecting on what we had just done...the thing that was completed...the thing that was accomplished...that I first came to know that special kind of joy. It would wash over me. I came to expect it. I came to look forward to it. I came to love John more and more for being alongside me...for being a part of it...for sharing the joy.

I felt it again last night, sitting around my kitchen table. Our oldest son, nearly 21 now, had come in from a day of hunting. He smelled like a campfire...dressed in his camo gear and carrying his rifle with care and respect. He told us the stories of the day with great detail and well chosen words. He is a good storyteller. Somewhere in the middle of his soliloquy, I couldn't hear him any more. I just felt it. The wash. The joy. The realization. The euphoria.

His mother and I carefully planned. We stood at the trail head, nearly 21 years ago, and looked up. With a sideways glance and the hint of a smile, we started the walk. To be sure, the trail to raising him, as with any child, was filled with switchbacks, steep climbs, loose rocks, downed trees, bitter cold and dark nights. But none of that matters...it is the price you pay for getting to make the trip. The thing is essentially done. What's left now are the stories. And the pure joy.

As I looked at him, I saw that he is standing at the foot of his own mountain with youthful optimism. I wish him well. I wish him safe passage.

As I looked at his younger brother, now a Senior in High School, I began to realize that our climb together is coming to an end as well. I began to feel the first twinges of the joy. The stories have started forming.

As I thought about our daughter, only 11, I was thankful that there are more mountains to climb...that our trip isn't completely over. I like the the climb. Or, I like the joy that comes with it.

Most of all, I looked at Connie. I am thankful that she is my partner. It has been she and I that have climbed and are climbing together. She and I, alone, know the travails and the pitfalls. She and I, alone, know the struggle. It is she and I, however, that also share the euphoria...the sense of "completing." Alone. They are "our" stories. A sideways glance...a hint of a smile...a world of our own. Pure, simple joy.

I thought of John tonight. I was in college at Gardner-Webb. He was at App State. It was this time of year...just a few days before our respective Thanksgiving breaks. My backpack was already packed. I had spoken to him on the phone. The day before we were to leave, I got the call telling me that John had died. His off-campus fraternity house caught fire. He was overcome by smoke while trying to pull someone else out of the fire. I remember being on the phone in my own apartment...looking at my backpack in the corner...thinking about a trip that would never happen. And, thinking about all the trips that did.

Pure, simple joy.

Yes Lady...I Am Pleased

It came to where I'd make the trip from my office to Budd Terrace Hospice and back to my office again without really thinking. The trip itself was neither pleasant nor unpleasant...it just came to be 25.17 miles of "automatic." Each way.

Equally automatic was pulling in to a Chevron station just before getting back on I-85. There, I would refill my QT cup (which is my constant companion) with Diet Coke. The egress in and out of that station is horrible. So, as was my routine, I parked around to the side away from the pumps.

I saw him as I stopped the car...even before I got out. I knew I would have to walk right past him and I knew what he wanted. His opening line was one I'm sure he's spoken hundreds of times. He said, "Hey buddy...can you help a brother out?"

He then began to tell me his story that, quite honestly, I was only half listening to. Something about needing bus fare to the Veterans Hospital (it was just down the street), about his serving in the military, getting kicked out of the house he had been renting, losing his job, being sick and so on. He didn't mention...nor did I ask about...the bicycle he had with him. I don't know why he didn't ride it to the hospital or what he planned to do with it while riding the bus. As I mentioned, I was only half listening. I was on automatic.

I finally stopped him mid-sentence and said, "Look. I have some change in my pocket. I'm going into this store and I'm going to refill this cup. When I come out, I'll give you whatever is left in my pocket."

He probably thought it was another "brush off." It was in a way. He probably simply hoped that I would be good to my word. He may have stood there in quiet anticipation. His spirits may have lifted a bit with my promise to give him money. He may have been excited about spending it. I don't know.

While inside at the check-out counter, with my refilled QT cup, I realized that I had more money in my pocket than I remembered. Not much more...just a single dollar bill mixed in with the leftover change. I stood at the door for a second before walking out to meet him again. I thought about moving the dollar bill to another pocket. I thought about how it would enable me to get yet another refill later in the day...for the ride home to Gainesville. I thought to myself, "He's only expecting pocket change. He'll never know." "It's not like I owe him anything." Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard my own voice speaking the words, "When I come out, I'll give you whatever is left in my pocket."

His eyes opened wide when he saw me walk up to him. He looked at me with hopeful anticipation...or was it wariness? Was he preparing himself to receive my monetary offering or was he preparing himself to be let down...once again? I just said, "Hey...I had a little more than I remembered." I handed him $1.42. He began to thank me and tell me his story again. I just held up my hand. He stopped talking to hear me say, "I gotta go."

He looked straight at me. I don't know what he was thinking. I don't know what was behind his eyes. He silently stuck out his his hand...somewhat uncertainly...for me to shake. I did. I turned and walked away...leaving him and his bicycle behind me.

Nearly back at my car, a rather bustling, bristling woman who had witnessed the exchange said to me, "Are you pleased with yourself? Do you think that you just did something special? You just enabled that loser to score some more crack or buy another bottle." I said nothing. I just left.

Fact is...she may be right.

All I know is that for a brief second, as we looked at each other and shook hands in rather awkward silence...we made a human connection. He had the chance to experience success. He had the chance to encounter compassion. He had the chance to observe generosity. He got to know the feeling of some money in his pocket where, before, there was none (or at least $1.42 less.) More than that...even if only for a brief moment...he got to experience a person who didn't totally brush him off. Who didn't lie to him. For a brief moment..he remembered the euphoria of hope.

I got the chance to keep my word.

Maybe the encounter was life changing for him. Maybe he did get to the Veterans Hospital and receive the help he needed. Maybe this hopeful encounter with humanity helped him have a new outlook on life. Maybe it was just enough to help him rise above his circumstances. Maybe his life is different...even better perhaps.

Or maybe he scored some more crack or bought a cheap bottle of wine.

Either way...in the one in a zillion chance you are reading this blog...to answer your question...Yes lady, I am pleased.

Then those 'sheep' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?' Then the King will say, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me. Matthew 25:37-40 (The Message)

Oh Yeah...I Almost Forgot...It's Thanksgiving

2008...what an interesting year.

We walked through an election process. We debated and voted and eventually elected a President.

How about Wall Street? There is not a person I know whose financial picture didn't change in one way or another.

Hurricane Hannah and Hurricane Ike leveled communities and cities and people's lives.

Then there is the war in Iraq. No matter what you believe about that war, we all feel it deeply in our hearts. It's like we carry a great sadness around with us every day.

I know people...not just know them...they are friends of mine...who have suffered the loss of a job or the loss of someone they loved. They know the pain of divorce, the worry of kids gone wild, the shock of pathology reports, the fear of depleted savings accounts, or the embarrassment of a home foreclosure.

Oh yeah...I almost forgot...It's Thanksgiving.

You know, that time of the year we set aside to be thankful for our many blessings. We know we should be thankful so we try to feel thankful. But, it is hard to just feel thankful...especially after a year like 2008. What if...just what if...we tried to redefine the whole idea of blessings and thankfulness and Thanksgiving in our lives?

What if we stopped equating our blessings with our circumstances? Stop for a second...and let that sink in. Let's look through a different lens. Let's separate our blessings from the minutia that makes up our day to day living. What if we stopped defining our blessings as those things that are going well in our life? What would that mean? What would that look like?

It would mean that we would consider the real blessing in our life is that we have a God who is with us...no matter what. It would mean that we are blessed to have a God who has promised to never leave or forsake us...despite the circumstances of our lives.

It would mean that the real blessing is having a God who is chasing us...and invites us to chase him.

It would mean that we express our gratitude not in response to our circumstances...but in response to who he is. Period.

It would mean that we would have to realize that we are not entitled to anything...except for perhaps judgement.

It would mean that we express our gratitude not for our circumstances...but for God's presence in our lives.

What if this year was different?

Gratitude for God's presence alone...

That just might change everything....

Everything.

Even if your bank account is flush...your body is healthy...your family intact.

Happy Thanksgiving.

How Much Good Can You Do This Weekend?

I'm just inspired by this story. Hope it inspires you too. Give it a watch...google her if you want to know more (and disregard the political jab.)

Have a great weekend....and more importantly....see if you can make it great for someone else.
God's peace everyone.

The Box In The Corner Of My Office

There is a box in the corner of my office. There is nothing special about the box itself. It's not expensive or ornate or even pretty. It's just a box. Inside, however, are the names of countless people who have asked me to pray for them and to pray for a specific circumstance in their lives. I write them down...and I put them in the box. I'll admit that some of the names are of people who have no idea that I am praying for them. I just decided to include them on my own. Several times during the day, I just roll my desk chair over to the corner and pray.

When I'm not in my office, I pray from memory. Thus was the case this past Friday, at 2:24 PM. I was vacuuming the house actually and was praying for a friend of mine who is battling cancer and who was, at that moment, awaiting a test result that would have major, major ramifications. I cannot overemphasize the word "major."

I had been praying, specifically, for a rise in her white count. A rise of 67 points. It didn't seem, to me at least, like too much to ask. Many in our church had prayed for the same thing. I had also been praying for an "awakening" in the hearts and minds of some of the people around her who don't seem to have "time" for her anymore or who tell her that "they just can't bear it"...those who are more attentive to their own sensibilities than to a hurting, battling human being. At precisely 2:24 PM, I was hit like a ton of bricks. So much so, that I checked the time in the event it turned out to be significant for any reason.

The thought that struck me was that perhaps...just perhaps...my seemingly small prayers were just that. Small.

Let me be very quick to say that these words are easy (in some ways...in other ways incredibly difficult because I love my friend) for me to type. I am NOT the one whose body is ravaged by a nearly 4 year battle with cancer. I am NOT the one who has been eliminated from a clinical trial because my white count is too low. I am NOT the one who is facing...constantly...without escape...the realities of the days ahead. I am NOT the the one who is a single mother of a young son. Easy for me.

I quickly ratcheted up my prayers for her. Not small...but big. A rise in white count can be accomplished with earthly things..given the right circumstances and enough time. Drugs, diet, metabolism...all sorts of things. While I could not stop praying for 67 points, neither could I keep myself from praying for the complete and total eradication of her cancer. I prayed big...for a direct, emphatic intervention from God. I prayed for miraculous healing. Not to be flippant...but I nearly prayed holes in my carpet! I thought I had experienced a significant, spiritual breakthrough...

...until this morning.

I read Paul's prayer for the believers in Ephesus. I realized that even my prayer for direct intervention and miraculous healing is, in fact....pretty small. We live in a world that is fallen and broken. We live in a world where cruddy things happen. We live among people who are at times selfish and disconnected and self-indulgent. But...we are children of the Most High God. A God who loves us and wants to know us and wants to empower us and wants US to know him and wants to deliver huge, huge things to us. A God who knows - has complete insight - into what we actually need even though we are just not capable of knowing such things ourselves. So, here is my prayer for my friend...and for all the people whose names are in the box in the corner of my office...and for all believers.

I thank God for you constantly. I pray for you the spirit of wisdom and revelation so that you come to know God more and more...in a way that you've never even imagined. I pray that you grow more and more strengthened in your faith, in your understanding of God, and your understanding of the reality of God in your life. I pray that the eyes of your heart are opened wider and wider...so that you know hope, and love, and joy and peace like never before. I pray for you a power for living. A power for living that comes from the Almighty God...the very same power God exerted in Christ when God raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms...far above rule and authority...power and dominion...far above fallen and broken earthly fetters...and far above every title that can be given. Not only in the present age..but also in one to come. Amen and Amen. Ephesians 1:15-21

I am going to keep praying for specifics...big and small. But this, I think, is praying HUGE. I think I'll put my own name in the box too...

Great News! We Don't Really Know So Much...

OK..I know that we have now blown through the information age and that we are pretty smart. We virtually ooze with intelligence. But it hasn't always been that way.

About 2000 years ago, a man named Ptolemy postulated that the entire universe revolved around the earth. We now know, of course, that we can't even speak in those terms. The universe is much bigger than Ptolemy imagined and the earth is certainly not the center of it. The earth, as we know, actually revolves around the sun.

It was only 500 years ago (to put it in perspective...this young country of ours has been around for nearly half that time) that it was determined that the earth was not flat. As late as 1889, we find people who still didn't believe it. People like William Carpenter who wrote, "100 Proofs The Earth Is Not a Globe."

In 1899, the head of the US Patent Office is said to have written a memo to President McKinley urging him to CLOSE the Patent Office for good because "everything that CAN be invented HAS been invented." Wow...just think how much has been invented since 1999 - not to mention since 1899.

In 1901, Wilbur Wright said that man would indeed one day fly...but not for 50 or more years...not in his lifetime. Later that year, old Wilbur was flying around NC in his glider. Then just two years later, in 1903, he recorded his first successful flight at Kitty Hawk. I've seen pictures of him flying in France in 1908. Close Wilbur...close.

Speaking of 1908, in that same year Henry Ford's lawyer said, "the horse is here to stay and the automobile is just a fad." In 1912, the Chief Engineer of the White Star Line said, "the Titanic is unsinkable." Not a good stretch for lawyers or engineers it seems.

HM Warner, President of Warner Brothers Studios said, "Talk? Who in the world wants to hear actors speak?" In 1917, in a film called the Jazz Singer, Al Jolsen spoke those now famous (and futuristic) words, "Wait a minute! Wait a minute! You ain't heard nothing yet!" Oh, by the way, The Jazz Singer was a Warner Brothers film.

In 1943, the President of IBM...Tom Watson...said, "there may be a world market for about 5 computers." He only missed it by about 8 zeros.

Maybe we aren't as smart as we think we are.

"Do you see a man wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him." Proverbs 26:12.

Maybe that's good news! Maybe our own "smarts" are not so important.

"Lean not on your own understanding. But in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight." Or as The Message translation puts it, "Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own.Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he's the one who will keep you on track. Proverbs 3:5-6

Thoughts From Wednesday Worship...September 24, 2008

Yogi Berra, New York Yankees baseball great, said "When you come to a fork in the road...take it." Some of his other quotes are, "You should always go to other peoples' funerals or else they won't come to yours," and "Baseball is 90% mental...the other half is physical." My personal favorite is "It ain't over til it's over." I find that encouraging.

On November 20, 1982, the football game between Cal and Stanford seemed to be over. Cal was leading 19-17. Stanford had the ball on their own 14 yard line. There was only about a minute left in the game. It was 4th down with 17 yards to go for the first down. The game was over. Somebody, however, forgot to tell a young Stanford quarterback named John Elway. He led his team down the field and with about 8 seconds left in the game, Stanford kicked a field goal to go ahead by the score of 20-19. The crowd went crazy. The fans started lining the field. The Stanford band formed in the end zone. The players celebrated so much they were penalized 15 yards. With only 4 seconds left on the clock, all Stanford had to do was kick off and time would expire. The game was over. Somebody, however, forgot to tell the University of California. Stanford kicked off and Cal picked up the ball. Just as the return man was about to be tackled, he lateraled to another player. Time expired. Next, another lateral just in time...then another...then another...then a blind over the shoulder lateral...then TOUCHDOWN! Cal wins the game 25-20 and the Stanford trombone player from the marching band was flattened in the process! It seemed to be over...but it wasn't.

Mike and Teresa (not from JCBC) were in love. They got married in fairy tale fashion...expecting to live happily ever after. 10 years later, they were angry, frustrated, exhausted from child-rearing, isolated...and divorced. Never mind the vows. Never mind the two boys. The marriage was over.

Two years later, Mike became a follower of Jesus Christ. His life changed dramatically and Teresa noticed. Hearts softened. Forgiveness was sought...and given. They were re-married. What was two and became one...then two again..became one again. It wasn't over after all.

Raylene Coopersmith suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. She was declared legally dead. Life support was discontinued. Her family made funeral plans. It was over. Somebody forgot to tell Raylene. She woke up. Funeral plans were replaced a short time later with vacation plans. It wasn't over after all.

A similar story occurred 2000 years ago. A man named Jesus from a town named Nazareth was arrested on trumped up charges. He was put through the mockery of a trial. Ultimately, they nailed him to a cross and with his final words..."It is finished"...it was over. He was buried in a borrowed tomb. His friends scattered. His disciples hid. Evil celebrated. Hope for the Messiah diminished. It was over.

Well...it was over for three days...

Ha! Then he arose! Jesus is alive and well my friends. The only thing "over" is hopelessness.

There are times when we are at the end of our ropes. We are panicky and fearful and without hope. We think it's over...done...finito. When those times occur...just remember...It ain't over til it's over!

So keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won't last forever. It won't be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good. He gets the last word; yes, he does. (1 Peter 5:10-11 - The Message)

Thoughts From Wednesday Worship...September 17, 2008

I'm a littler later than usual in posting my mid-week worship thoughts. The fact is, given the pace of the past several weeks, I took a time out. Oddly enough, the title of last Wednesday's sermon was, "The Beauty of the Time Out!"

I'm the Chaplain of the Lakeview Academy High School football team. For that (and because I volunteer to head up the chain crew) I get to watch the game from field level. I watch the coaches call all sorts of offensive plays and defensive sets. I see all types of schemes and variations. Very often, however, one of the most important "calls" of the game is "time out."

A time out is most often called at a critical time during the game...when the next play is of particular importance. It gives the team a chance to get out from under the pressure of the time clock and to settle down. There is always a conversation that takes place. The coach may say to his quarterback, "What are you seeing? What is the middle linebacker (or some other position) doing?" Then the coach calls the next play. He gives instruction. The team re-takes the field with renewed focus and determination. The outcome of a game can actually depend on a well placed time out.

Jesus knew a little something about the value of a time out. He had made his triumphant entry into Jerusalem amidst the cheers and shouts of the crowd. He began a week of intense teaching. During the week, he cleared the temple saying, "you have made my house a den of robbers." He gathered his followers in an upper room where he predicted that one would betray Him and another would deny him three times before the sun came up the next day. He had even predicted His own death. It was a panicky, fearful, chaotic, emotionally frenzied time. Jesus said to His friends, "Come to the garden to pray with me." Or... Jesus called a time out.

As Jesus made his way to the garden to pray, it was a critical time. The fate of the whole world depended on what would happen during the next 72 hours. Jesus took the time to settle down. He had a conversation with His Father saying, "Abba...Father...if there is any other way...let this cup pass." In a moment that passed just between Jesus and His Father, He knew what had to be done. Jesus said, "not my will, but Yours be done." God...if you will...called the play. Jesus arose with renewed focus and determination. When the soldiers came for Him, led by the betrayer, Jesus simply looked at him and said, "Friend...do what you came for." (To read about the actual events...not just my paraphrase of them...read the accounts found in Matthew, Mark, Luke or John.)

We often find ourselves panicky, fearful, and emotionally frenzied. Our world seems chaotic. We may be in the depths of despair or caught up in overly enthusiastic, impetuous pursuits. The most important thing you can do in those times just may be calling Time Out! Settle down. Have a conversation with your Father (of the heavenly kind...although the earthly kind can often be counted on for some pretty good perspective). Receive your instructions (or...discern what you feel is best or what must be done). Arise with renewed focus and determination.

Time out over. Game on. Put me in coach...I'm ready to play.

The Power of the Auto-Signature

The words on this blog are about to start gushing forth. Many of you knew Tiffany or knew of her. Many of you know that she died this week following a brutal, hard fought battle with cancer. She was 24. Many of you know that, as her pastor and as one who loves her and her family, I've been working hard to process it all...I've been working hard to balance "doing my job" with grieving. I'm going to write about it. I'm going to write about my tears and make-up stained suit coat. I'm going to write about Jean and Cindy who waited for me in the parking lot yesterday (funeral service day) to simply love me and encourage me. I'm going to write about a text message I sent to Tiffany's husband this past Monday morning at 11:46 a.m. I'm going to write about standing in Tiffany's room at Budd Terrace Hospice - hanging on by a thread - and being so moved by the reminder that "God Loves Us" as I stared at a hand-made card created by a 3rd grader with those three simple words colored on it. I'm going to write about it all...but not today.

I was encouraged today by...of all things...an "auto-signature." You know, that little e-mail tool we have which automatically appears with each e-mail we send. It usually has our name, title, and contact information. We don't think too much about it normally. We set it up and then forget it.

Perhaps we should be more intentional with it. It is, after all, our electronic identifier. If I were my 20 year old son, I might choose the words that appear on a hat of his that read, "Girls love me...Fish fear me." Or if I were my 17 year old football playing son, I might simply choose, "#7" as my auto-signature.

Jim is a colleague of mine. He is an extraordinary minister whose particular expertise is working with students. Ordinarily, his auto-signature would read, "Minister TO Students" or "Minister OF Youth." Jim did not choose "TO" or "OF" as his identifier. Rather he chose, "Minister WITH Youth." He chooses not to be "over" them as their leader. He chooses not to be completely "under" them as their servant leader. He chooses to be alongside them...as a fellow minister...as they minister to each other and to the world.

If there is anything I've learned in the past few weeks...and this week in particular...it is the power of the word "with."

As soon as I can remember how to change my auto-signature...I'm gonna do it. In the meantime, I am with you...alongside you...and will be forever grateful that YOU are WITH me. God's peace everybody.

Thoughts From Wednesday Worship...September 10, 2008

(Photo by ladybugdiscovery - Flickr)

Connie and I get up early each morning to read the bible and to pray together. Our dog, Shinzy, usually joins us close by. During one of our readings, I was struck by the words, "Grace and peace to you from him who is, and who was, and who is to come,..." Wow! The God of the universe, the Almighty, the Alpha and the Omega is actively extending his grace and peace to me! The thought occurred to me that this truth should foster a response. It should catalyze my day to day living. Then it hit me...

I want to be the man my dog thinks I am.

She thinks I love her. I don't have anything against her - I'm just not crazy about the idea of having a dog. Every time I sit down in the family room...remote in hand...she comes and lays down in front of me. She rolls on her back, legs in the air, so that I will scratch her belly. I always do it. She thinks it's because I love her. Fact is, I just want her to move along. I don't want to sit there and look at her with her legs up in the air. Not to mention...I'd like her to get off my rug!

She thinks I am patient. When she is outside, she lets us know she wants to come back in by scratching the front door. The white primer can then be seen beneath an otherwise black door. Every Saturday...I repaint. She thinks I am patient. She can't hear what I am mumbling under my breath. She can't know that I just can't stand having a front door that looks like a dog lives on the other side of it! It has nothing to do with patience.

She thinks I am so kind because I take her to the pet spa for a haircut, bath, tooth brushing and nail clipping. The fact is, I keep her hair cut short because I detest the shedding...and the business end of a Swiffle Sweeper. I have her bathed because I don't want to do it myself. I clip her nails to help save my hardwood floors. I have her teeth brushed because her breath stinks! It has nothing to do with being kind.

She thinks I am faithful because the first thing I do each morning is open the door and let her out. My motive is altogether different. I don't want to have to clean up the mess that will result if I don't let her out! Not faithful...but rather self-serving.

She thinks I am peaceful. I'm not home much. When I am, I am mostly asleep. Not to mention that every time I lay down on the couch...I just fall asleep. I have never seen the end of any movie rented from Blockbuster. Shinzy thinks I'm a peaceful man when really I just can't stay awake.

She thinks I'm good because I no longer make her wear a shock collar for our underground fence. To be truthful...I lost it. It's not being "good"...it is being absent minded.

She thinks I am so joyful because when I come home each night I walk in the front door and yell, "Yohoo...Honey...I'm home!" Connie will always greet me or calls back to me. We look forward to seeing each other at the end of the day. Shinzy gets in on the act. She comes to me, wags her tail, hops up and down a little...she thinks my excitement is about her.

When I stop to think about it...I would like to be the man my dog thinks I am.

Paul wrote in his letter to the Galatians, "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things, there is no law." (Galatians 5:22-23)

I think I'll go scratch Shinzy's belly...and then take her for a walk.

I Wonder What Would Happen To This World...?

A singing, song-writing hero of mine was Harry Chapin. He died in 1981. He once wrote,

"If a man tried to take his time on earth

And prove before he died

What one man's life could be worth...Then I wonder what would happen to this world."

I am generally an optimistic person. I have great hope for the human race. I think that most of us desire to be people of worth...to lead impactful lives...to make a difference...to be relevant. We want it to have mattered that we lived. I do think, however, that we sometimes mis-step along our way to relevance. We have the human tendency to mistake so many things for the relevance we seek. We waste so much energy.

We work hard to be known by the "right people"...to earn their favor...to impress them...to be in their inner circle. We mistake being included for relevance.

Some, in positions of authority and leadership, work hard to surround themselves with "yes people." They spend so much energy developing a following...a group of adherents. They mistake always being told that they are "right", or "brilliant", or "admirable" with relevance. (By the way...it is not leadership either.)

I wince at the stories of people abandoning devoted spouses for "younger models" in an effort to rediscover youth. Youth is not relevance. Neither is attractiveness or allure. Our egos have nothing to do with relevance.

Some spend a great deal of energy learning things...can quote great works of literature...can recall historical facts...can take philosophical stances...can articulate personal and historical theological insights. Nothing wrong with any of that right up to the point that intellectual prowess and cognitive superiority take the place of relevance.

Popularity (which requires a tremendous amount of energy) is not relevance. Achieving success by the world's standards is not relevance. Being "accepted" is not relevance.

So what is?

Perhaps Paul got it right in his letter to the Galatians (5th chapter). If we can spend our energy on living lives that are characterized by love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control...then we may just have a shot at being relevant. It might just matter that we lived.

We might really want to concentrate on the love and kindness parts.

"If a man tried to take his time on earth

And prove before he died

what one man's life could be worth...

Then I wonder what would happen to this world."

Thoughts from Wednesday Worship...September 4, 2008

(Photo by Melissa C Photography, Rossville, GA)

I love watching live interviews on television. It doesn't matter whether it's a post-game interview after a sporting event, a live interview at a political convention, or just a local television reporter covering a human interest story. Most of the time, it is not the interview itself that interests me. Rather, it is the people in the background. Namely, it's the guy in the background that suddenly finds himself in the camera shot. He's on TV! First he has that "deer in the headlights" look. Then he smiles and starts to gesture...sometimes wildly. The thing that tickles me most, however, is when he picks up his cell phone to phone a friend.

I can almost hear the conversation. "Hey...turn on your television to channel 11." "I'm on TV!" "Got it on? Can you see me?" Once he knows he is being seen, he'll then start to smile and gesture some more. The whole thing is really quite funny.

I can't help but wonder, however, who is he calling? Who is on the other end of the phone call? How does he decide?

Most likely, the person on the other end of the call is his "go to guy." Go to guys are important. They are the folks that we choose to involve in the goings on in our lives. No matter the circumstance...times of fear and panic, times of failure and disappointment, times of great joy and success (or even when we find ourselves on TV!), our go to guys share it all.

Jesus had His go to guys. Among them were the 12. I think of Jesus calling them to follow Him. I think of the times He took them away from the crowd to spend time with them alone. I wonder what they talked about. I mean, they were together for three years or so. We only have a relatively few documented conversations recorded in the gospels. I think of the night of Jesus' arrest when He asked His go to guys to go with Him to the olive grove to be with Him while he prayed.

Jesus appreciated them I think. He calmed their fears. (John 14 - "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God...trust also in me.") He served them. (He washed their feet on the night of their last supper. John 13 - "Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.") He promised to always be their go to guy. (Matthew 28 - And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.")

So, the question is, "Who would you call to say..Hey...turn on your TV! Do you see me?" Who is your go to guy? Appreciate the gift of him/her. Don't take him/her for granted.

Perhaps a better question is, "Who in your life would think to call you?"

Here it comes...

(Photo by Sara Lee)

Phil Collins once sang the words, "I can feel it coming in the air tonight..." I know the feeling. I know what the week is going to bring. I know what I am going to be confronted with as a pastor.

I will be with him as he struggles to make decisions about continuing to treat, or not to treat, his wife. She's 24.

A different wife, a friend and neighbor of a church member, will have to face the reality that her husband is gone...to the arms of another...breaking every promise and shattering every dream. They have five kids.

He's coming in on Wednesday. He's the brother of a church member. His cocaine/crack/meth addiction has deeply affected the rest of the family.

Surgeries, tests, pathology reports. I can feel it coming in the air tonight. And, I'll be there. Along with scores of other caring, loving people who choose to minister...to get their hands dirty. People who choose to stand alongside. To encourage. To support. To catch.

Here is my prayer for all of us.

Lord, your consistency in my devotion. Your fervency in my prayers. Your simplicity in my lifestyle. Your humility in my attitude. Your purity in my motives.

Your faithfulness in my commitments. Your unselfishness in my relationships. Your forgiveness in my conflicts. Your gentleness in my actions. Your kindness in my marriage.

Your blessings in my brokenness. Your strength in my weakness. Your courage in my convictions. Your joy in my circumstances. Your will in my priorities.

Lord, Your contentment in my disappointments. Your wisdom in my decisions. Your discipline in my day. Your vision in my dreams.

Your purpose in my steps. Your peace in my storms. Your presence in my home. Your power in my life.

Your tears in my eyes. Your voice in my ears. Your thoughts in my mind. Your work in my hands. Your words in my mouth. Your love in my heart.

(Prayer taken from I Saw the Lord - Anne Graham Lotz)

Thoughts from Wednesday Worship...August 27, 2008

Jesus told stories about lost sheep fairly often (Matthew 18, Luke 15, John 10). Jesus' point is that he, the shepherd, is always looking out for his sheep and is always looking for any that are lost. It's a beautiful image...but it begs a question. If Jesus is such a good shepherd, how do the sheep (we) get separated from him anyway?

Sheep do not get separated by being mysteriously or instantly transported to somewhere else. No, they become separated one step at a time. They nibble. Always chasing the "greener grass" that is just a step or two away. So it is with us. We begin to mis-prioritize...just a little. We skip a day or two of time alone with God...then three...then a week. We compromise our ethics just a little...just this once we tell ourselves. Before we realize it, we've nibbled our way into separation.

Sheep become separated by another means as well. Some sheep just keep their heads down and follow the "grazer" in front of them. (Thus the Volkswagen commercial of not long ago..."just another pathetic sheep following the herd.") This is what worries me. When folks see us "nibble", when they see us compromise, when they see the priorities in our lives...they follow. At times, we lead them straight into separation.

So what do we do about it? Don't nibble. At the slightest hint of compromise, at the slightest hint of lack of devotion, at the slightest hint of misplaced priorities...fix it. Right away. Immediate attention may very well keep us from winding up lost, but will that influence others? Will it positively impact our circles? I think so.

Don Caskey, Upper School Director of Lakeview Academy, sent me this article. In 1980 social scientists James Q. Wilson and George L. Kelling published an article in the Atlantic called “Broken Windows” in which they postulated that repairing the first broken window in an abandoned building would prevent more from being broken, and failing to repair it would encourage more windows to be broken. (They turned out to be correct.) In 1985 the New York City Transit Authority tested the theory on vandalism (in particular, graffiti) against the subways, repairing vandalized equipment and cleaning graffiti from subway cars immediately. The project was so successful that in 1990, William Bratton, head of NYC Transit Police, expanded the program to fare-dodging and other petty crimes, and in 1993 Mayor Giuliani adopted the policy more widely throughout the city. The 10-year period following the inception of this strategy saw a precipitous and unprecedented drop in not only petty crimes, but major crimes in NYC. It is generally agreed that immediate attention to the small incidents, not only reduced the number of like small incidents, but of related small crimes -- and may well have played a role in the reduction of major crimes.

Let's try to cut down on the nibbling. Let's fix things as soon as we realize they need fixing. Let's make sure we keep those who may be following us within earshot of the Shepherd.

A Neck To Throw Our Arms Around

(Photo by OceanRudy from Flickr)

I have prayed boldly for them both...with as much faith as I can muster. I have prayed, without hesitation or embarrassment, for the healing of their bodies. "He" tells me this week that the remaining spot is so small that the Doctor suggests no surgical biopsy, to remove his port, and to forget about the stem cell transplant. "We'll just watch it", he says. "She", on the other hand, might not live any longer than the time it takes me to write this post.

I encounter it all the time.

The fact is...we pray. We pray a lot. We try to believe what the bible says about prayer. We try to do it right. We pray with faith and humility and thanksgiving. We pray, "if it be Your will." We pray in Jesus' name. But...at the end of the day...WE WANT OUR PRAYERS ANSWERED!

A few years ago, my family vacationed at the coast. I was on the beach with Katie...not much more than a toddler at the time. As we played in the surf, she grew braver and braver and began to venture further and further out into the water. The current was fairly strong and the tide was going out. All at once, she realized that her little feet could no longer feel the bottom. The water was over her head. Her eyes grew wide with fear and panic. She called out to me, "Daddy! Daddy!" I moved over to her...the water was not over my head. Neither the current nor the tide were too strong for me. She flung her arms around my neck. I could feel her little body tremble. In a while, however, her fear subsided and the panic left her.

What Katie didn't know was that her circumstances had not changed. I did not alter the depth of the ocean. The water was still over her head. I did not weaken the current or reverse the tide. The only difference was that she had my neck to throw her arms around.

We pray. We pray a lot. We come, at times, with fear and panic and worry. We tremble. We cry out, "Father! Father!" Our circumstances may not change, but in our need we find the neck of God to throw our arms around.

Perhaps, THAT is answered prayer.

In fact, given that it's the God of the universe we're holding on to (or who is holding on to us)...perhaps it's the ultimate answer. I mean...really...what more could we ask for?

Thoughts from Wednesday Worship...August 20, 2008

Paul wrote to Timothy, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." This scripture has found its way to me several times in the past weeks. Finishing the race has led me to think a great deal about eternity. Or, more accurately, heaven.

I have not been spending any time thinking about the "theology" of heaven. Not what it is or where it is. I have not been breaking down the promise of a "new heaven and new earth." I am not concerned with what the streets are paved with, whether or not the gates are pearly, who is singing what or who is playing what.

The bottom line for me is that, ultimately, it is quite sufficient for me to be in the presence of the Living God of the Universe. Wherever and whatever and however. The thought is exciting to me.

I do not, however, prefer to "go" now. I'm having a good bit of fun here with Connie and the kids, my friends and my congregation.

When I do "get there" though, I hope for a "gold medal moment." One like Nastia Liukin - the American gold medal winning gymnast.

As I watched her be awarded her medal in Beijing, I couldn't help but think about what it must have taken for her to arrive at that moment. It would have taken thousands of hours in the gym preparing and practicing. She would have won thousands of medals along the way at hundreds of gym meets. She would have lost some times too. She had to fight through distractions and injury and personal defeats. And yet, there she was...receiving her gold medal. You could see it on her face as she listened to the National Anthem being played. She sighed a sigh of relief as if to say to herself, "There. I've done it. I fought the fight. I finished the race. I kept the faith."

When this life is over and I am ultimately in the presence of God, I hope I have a moment like that. Standing there will be my reward. The music will not be the National Anthem but will be indescribable I imagine. The lyrics will not be "Oh say can you see..." but rather, "well done, good and faithful servant."

Fight the fight. Finish the race. Keep the faith.

International Intrigue and a Dirty Old Truck

This past Saturday was one of those days that just leave me basking in the glory of God. You know what I'm talking about? It was one of those days that God chose to put person after person in front of me that pointed to His grace and love and impact and sheer power.

After starting the day at a men's ministry breakfast (which featured Kenny Thorne - Georgia Tech Men's Tennis coach who was incredible!), I met with a friend of mine. I baptized him a year or so ago at the age of 81. I have often remembered him weeping as we came up out of the water together. The experience was so moving for him - and thus for me as well. On Saturday, he told me his story.

The man is the most accomplished and trusted consultant in the area of International Security in the United States - if not the entire world. He told me (a little) of lives saved and catastrophes averted. He told me (again, a little) of high stakes negotiations. He is trusted by men, companies, and governments all over the planet. His has been a life lived, more or less, undercover. Just as I was awash in a sea of intrigue, he told me this story.

He said, "I was in my car one day, trying to maneuver around a large, dirty truck in front of me. I couldn't get around it. Every time I would try to pass, the truck would move into a spot directly in front of me." "After awhile," he said, "I noticed something written in the dirt and grime on the back of that truck. In perfect letters were the words Jesus Loves You." My friend began to sob, openly and uncontrollably, as he said, "David, I have witnessed and been involved in things that most men can only imagine. However, in all my life and in all my exploits, I have never encountered anything that stopped me in my tracks like the truth of those words...Jesus Loves You." "My life changed forever."

That was some 15 years ago. Still today, he sobs...without shame...as he too basks in the glory of God...and His grace, and love, and impact and sheer power.

Wow.

Thoughts from Wednesday Worship...August 13, 2008

Jacob walked off the football field. He took off his helmet and shoulder pads. He was sweaty and stinky and smiling from ear to ear. He hugged me and said, "Mr. White...I can't wait til Thursday night."

I had spent the summer leading a bible study for the Lakeview Academy football team on Thursday mornings. We focused our attention on the apostle Paul's great words found in II Timothy, "I have fought the fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." We talked about just what it might take in a faith life to arrive at the end of the road and be able to speak those words. We met in the weight room, before workouts, and early. I knew Jacob was there, but was completely unaware that God was working in his life in a major way.

At the end of summer workouts, the team goes on a team building retreat for a weekend. The weekend ended at a homeless shelter where the team was to do some volunteer work after worshiping with shelter residents. The preacher, I'm told, started at 10:30 and didn't finish til 1:30. His assistant coach said it was...well...just long. But, after it all, in the corner was Jacob clutching his head coach. He was in tears. His assistant coaches opened their bibles. They prayed together. Jacob gave his life to Christ. He gave his testimony to his teammates on the team bus.

I was talking with Austin, my son, about it all. We talked about the bible study and I admitted that during some of the days there I was just fulfilling a promise I had made. I didn't mail it in...but close to it a couple of times. We talked about the weight room setting, the early morning hour. We talked about a homeless shelter worship service with a long-winded preacher. We talked about coaches who primarily coach football. We talked about a hot, stuffy school bus.

Austin commented something like, "Dad, it just goes to show you. God can do something with anything."

Jacob was baptized following an FCA meeting this past Thursday in a backyard swimming pool with dozens of his teammates and classmates watching. He was still smiling from ear to ear.

God can do something with anything.

Ain't it the truth.

All Too Familiar...

(Photo by Monire Askari)

She began by saying, "He would have been 89 next month and in January we would have been married 62 years." Never mind that "he" was in the room at Peachtree Christian Hospice with us. As soon as I heard those words, spoken in the past tense, I knew that she had already begun the process of grieving and adjusting. I also knew that she was preparing me, with or without intention, to "preach his funeral."

She told me the story of their lives together. I heard how they met and the stories of them growing toward each other. I heard about his years in Germany and Austria as an Infantryman during WWII. I heard all about his career. She sparkled as she spoke of his accomplishments and how respected he was by important people. I heard about the joys and tragedies of their time together. I learned about their children and their careers. Then about the grandchildren and their careers. I learned about the extended family. Houses bought and sold. Churches attended and left. I heard the story of a life. From time to time, as she remembered, her chin would quiver. It was interesting and captivating. I kept hearing myself say, "I didn't know that!"

It was all too familiar. I've been through this conversation dozens and dozens of times with dozens and dozens of people.

As I left, I couldn't help but be reminded that I had plenty of opportunities to know their story. There was no need for me to learn it in a hospice care facility...preparing for a funeral...speaking in past tense.

I'm gonna stop and listen more. I'm gonna ask more questions.

Thoughts From Wednesday Worship - August 6, 2008

Of all the things I do, participating in and leading (in that order) our mid-week worship is among my favorites. I treasure the time spent with our people. Tonight, we focused on the word "opportunity." Admittedly, it is a much used word. It can become rather trite. We considered the opportunities that come our way in our secular lives. We also considered the opportunities that come our way in our faith lives. Opportunities to grow, learn, fellowship, love, serve, minister, and be formed abound. Jesus Himself presented folks with opportunities. He said, "throw down your nets and follow me" to a couple of fishermen who became disciples. He said, "Zaccheus, come down out of that tree. I'm going home with you", to an unsuspecting tax collector. Jesus was always presenting people with opportunity. Jesus presents us with opportunity still today.

We also considered missed opportunities.

I met him a couple of weeks ago as I was leading a bible study at No Longer Bound. NLB is a ministry and program for male addicts located in Cumming, Georgia. It is an extensive, intense 10 month program. They do incredible work. He said, "I went to church when I was a kid. I was so excited at first. The church bus would come around and pick us up. The driver always had some little treats for us. After awhile, however, I became more afraid than excited. You see, I'm a bit of a rounder. You might have guessed that, considering where I am now. I started to be afraid of breaking something or scratching the pews. I was afraid of breaking the rules. I was afraid they wouldn't let me get on the bus anymore. One day in Sunday School, a big woman wagged her finger in my face and told me I was trouble. I'm sure I deserved it. She told me that if I couldn't behave that I should never come back. I was so afraid of her...I never did go back. So, I just started moving toward people who didn't wag their finger in my face and who accepted me no matter what I did."

He went on to tell more of the story. I wasn't listening. I couldn't help but wonder how different his life may have been if only she hadn't wagged her finger in his face. She had an opportunity to be the presence of Christ in this boy's life...and she missed it...and he went away...and his life spun out of control. I don't mean to suggest that if we miss opportunities to share the love of Christ with someone that their life will be ruined. But...

Opportunities. Let's take advantage of them. More than that, let's not miss them. Most of all, let's not do any finger wagging.

Friends + Strangers = Family

(Originally written on June 26, 2008)

Photo by: Jenn (theflyingrat)

I began my day at one of the area hospitals. I had been asked by a church member to come and pray with a friend of hers who was to undergo a biopsy procedure. I was not the only one there. There was a collection of people - some were friends, some were family, and some were strangers. For me, I only knew about half of the group. The rest I had never seen or met before. The same would have been true for the others as well. We gathered in one corner of the lobby, formed a circle, and joined hands to pray.

I did not know either of the people whose hands I held.

The thing that struck me, however, is that it didn’t matter.

In that moment, we all were single minded. We were completely joined in a common endeavor. Even though we were strangers to each other, we were connected. We were a fellowship of believers. We were a different parts of the same body. We were a family of faith. We were far from strangers.

Blest be the tie that binds…