A simple thing....

When I openned Karlie's "pack-pack" after school yesterday I found a treasure. Her "best friend" had given her a letter sometime during the school day. Karlie quickly tucked the note securly into her backpack so as not to lose it or have it "collected" by the teacher for an example of her friend's writing ability. When I asked Karlie about the note, she beamed, "It's from my friend Kim! She wrote me a letter! Let me read it for you, "You are my BEST friend Karlie!"
Such a simple note. Such a tiny chore. Such a treasured gift.
I know the power that words of encouragement can play in the lives of those around us. However, most times, even if I think about how important,
special,
talented,
gifted,
loved,
someone is, it is rare that I take the brief seconds to send a text, jot a note, or write a letter. How silly of me. I hope & pray that Karlie's treasured letter will stay in my mind for a long time, urging me to take the time to do such a simple thing that might make someone's day.

Spring has sprung....

Yesterday afternoon I found myself doing something I have not done in a long time. I was staring out of the window, thinking about - nothing. I had been reading one of the many books-for-pleasure that have piled up on my bedside table, my desk, or my bookshelves over the past six years of school. I paused for a few minutes because I was about to fall asleep mid-sentence. After about five minutes of staring out of the huge plate glass window at church, I noticed that I was looking past or through the most amazing dogwood blossoms. I sat for another few minutes lost in wonder of the beauty that I had not noticed. Then I began to realize that over the past six years there are a lot of things I have placed on the back burner of life in order to stay focused on the added responsibility of school. There are things at work that I have left undone or half done. There are great students that have come and gone that I never took the time to know on a deeper level. There are parts of my kids' lives that I have missed or watched from a disengaged distance. There are seasons, like this one, that I have seen come and go, but have not really noticed them.

The transition to post-graduate student is going to take awhile, but I am determined to rediscover the joys of simple things - like doing nothing. Like letting the beauty of the seasons envelope me with mindless wonder. Like playing simple, silly games with Karlie. Like listening to music with Nick (even if it is rap that I don't understand). Like taking long walks with Natalie and talking about the most recent book she is reading or new story she is writing. Like going on dates with my wife. Like taking out pencil and paper and drawing again. Like posting in this blog on a regular basis.

This is going to be fun!

It doesn't take long to spend the night in New Orleans!

After a full day of work followed by a late night of meetings and worship I've realized that it doesn't take long to spend the night in New Orleans! I need much more sleep than I got last night. In other words, I'm old.
It is inspiring to work alongside these amazing collegians! Not only are we having fun, we are having great conversations as we work. The church construction teams 4 & 5 are working in is Williams Boulevard Baptist. For the past six years this congregation has hosted the State Police, the National Guard, as well as countless teams who have come to NoLa to do relief work. Many rooms have been converted to storage space. We are reclaiming the space by cleaning out, washing walls, painting and repairing, and doing some light construction (pictures are on facebook). It feels good to be doing some physical labor after sitting at the computer for months working on my dissertation.
It will be fun to see what the rest of the week holds!

Reflecting

I'm sitting alone in my hotel room in New Orleans after driving all day with 5 students from UGA for a mission trip. We start work tomorrow. The team I'm on will be assisting a church to remodel after hosting the National Guard for the past 5 years. It's horrible to think that there is still so much work left to do here as we are just starting to get reports of the destruction and loss off life in Japan following the Earthquake there last week. I hope they are able to recover more quickly than NoLa; but the devastation appears much worse, if that is possible.
I feel excited about this week, yet I also am feeling a bit out of sorts, a surreal numbness after turning in my dissertation on Thursday. I won't allow myself to get too excited. I still have my defense in a week and a half. It simultaneously feels like a monkey has jumped off my back while another, unknown monkey has climbed aboard. There is excitement about getting to actually spend time with my family each evening and on weekends & hanging out with students without worrying about writing our reading. It's exciting to be able to read for fun again! I need to take some time for reflection this week, to find a mirror to try to catch a glimpse of the new critter that has taken up residence on my shoulders.
Perhaps it is that old feeling that God is up to something, that feeling of expectancy that I am both doing what I need to be doing while believing that God is at work ahead of me, preparing me for the next thing. Whatever it is, it should be an adventure!

Beauty Salon

Yesterday afternoon on one of my normal "Dad's Taxi" runs I had a cross-cultural experience. Karen had an appointment to get her hair trimmed and decided that Natalie could also use some professional TLC on her blond locks. Karen asked me to bring Karen to the salon to save a bit of time. On the way Natalie and I picked Karlie up from Pre-K. When we got to Bonnie & Clyde's Salon in Watkinsville Karlie was enthralled, looking around at every detail. Karen had not arrived before Natalie was invited to have her hair shampooed. Karlie's interest was peaked as Natalie went around the corner but she was too shy to follow. She wanted to move closer after Natalie was seated in a styling chair. However, when Karen arrived and was escorted back to have her hair washed Karlie could not resist seeing what went on in the next room. She made several trips back and forth between the sinks and the styling chairs until Karen emerged.

"I want to have my hair cut too," Karlie whispered to me. "Only I still want to be able to put it up in a ponytail," she clarified. I laughed. I told her that today only Natalie and mom were getting their hair done. She would have to come back another day for her turn.

At times I felt like an interloper as Karen and the two stylists discussed hairstyles and haircare. Natalie even began to add her two cents. Karlie was a pinball between the two chairs and the one I was occupying off to the side. She was fascinated at all of the attention lavished on her sister and mom. She was learning a culture that I knew I would only observe, that I could never really understand.

Sensing the afternoon slipping away, I told Karen I needed to head home and get supper started. Karlie begged to stay with the girls. As I left the lyrical laughter of my three girls sang to me all the way to my car. That is a sound I will never forget and will treasure always.

18 degrees....

Its cold this morning, really cold. Here it is 18 degrees. And according to the Today Show, it is only 20 degrees in NYC!

I woke up at 5 am. I know, right! As I rolled over in bed i tweaked my CPAP mask and pulled it apart. I had to get up & turn on a light to get it fixed. By the time I got it all back together, I was wide awake. So I got up.

It was nice to be up alonw this morning. I've been able to complet day 11 of my Bible reading plan on www.youversion.com, do my push-ups & sit-ups from www.hundredpushups.com, read a few blogs that I follow (www.fatcyclist.com), and get my head together for work this week. To be honest, I'm not ready to go back to work today for a few reasons. First, I have loved hanging with my family - especially with Karen. In the busyness of life moments alone can be hard to find. We have had several days of shopping together, eating together, working on projects together and being parents together. I'm afraid the normal grind will steal that from us - as it usually does.

Secondly, I would love to stay home or go to the library to do some writing today. I'm not as far along on my first three chapters of my dissertation as I wanted to be. I'm hoping to carve out a few hours each day to write over the next few weeks to get it done.

I am looking forward to work too. There are some cool things happening with our students. They are catching a renewed vision for leadership and are inspiring a new vision for leading BCM this year in our quest to become community and to model Christian community in all we do. The worship series for this semester has me really excited! More on that later as it develops!
This should be a great year. I hope to finish my degree - or at least get my dissertation done - graduating in December of 2010 or May of 2011.

So its off to the office I go, before others wake up and I get distracted! It's gonna be really cold out!

The light has come!

Last night at the Christmas Eve service I was surprised by a wave of emotion. I’m a sap who frequently tears-up during movies and at Hallmark commercials, so waves of emotion are not new to me. But this one caught me off guard.

All day I had been looking forward to the evening’s events, to be spent sitting with my children and in-laws while my wife accompanied the hymns and carols on the organ. I had prepared a big pot of potato soup, left simmering in the Crockpot to be enjoyed on the rainy night after the service. Each year I enjoy watching my children become overwhelmed by the various events of the Christmas season. Sometimes the Christmas Eve service is an interruption into the family fun. But this year we had prepared everyone for the afternoon and evening. We traveled home from my mother’s house, cleaned up a bit before Karen’s parents arrived to go with us to the service. It was a busy, but fun afternoon.

I can’t tell time. Clocks still baffle me. They arrive at appointed hours much sooner than does my internal clock. As a result, I am always tardy or downright late. Today was no exception. My wife’s family is always annoyingly prompt. When we finally got to the church, the congregation was already singing the First Noel. Sadly, we had missed my wife’s organ prelude. The music is usually a highpoint for me. But what got me this year was a candle – a simple candle.

Each week of Advent, families come up during the morning service to read appropriate scripture, lead in a responsive reading, and then light the designated candle in the Advent wreath. The wreath was regally seated atop of a sturdy brass stand, elevated enough for everyone in the congregation to see, placed between the podium and the pews. Encircled by evergreens, each candle symbolizes one of the traditional meanings of Christmas – Hope, Love, Joy, and Peace. Each week a different candle is illuminated moving around the circle until all are lighted the Sunday before Christmas. On Christmas Eve the large white Center candle is lighted.

Last night I was having trouble following along in the order of service because Karlie absconded my bulletin to use as a doodle pad. She had systematically worked through all available paper – the envelopes and notepaper stuck into the back of the pews. When she saw the woodcut of the angel printed on the cover of my order of worship, she asked to see it. I never got it back. Thus, I was left to follow the service by reading over Karlie’s pencil as she decorated my upside-down bulletin. Every so often she would motion to one of her new drawings and look to me for a nod and smile of approval.

When the family got up to light the Advent candle I was not really paying attention. They read a few scriptures and somehow I caught a few words that grabbed my attention, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who live in a land of deep darkness – on them a light has shined.” (Isaiah 9:2). As the words echoed in the fog of my consciousness, I fumbled for the program, trying to get Karlie to let me see the responsive reading. She was not interested in sharing. I gave up just as the family was attempting to light the center candle, the Christ candle. I was seated on the isle. I looked down the corridor of pews to the wreath stand. As the tiny flicker touched the wick of the candle, I gasp.

The light had come. Emmanuel, God is with us.

Though the lights throughout the sanctuary were lit, the wreath seemed to illuminate the entire room. My eyes filled with tears as I thought, “It is complete, finished; THIS is the meaning of Christmas. The light has come. In this helpless tiny baby we find the hope of the world. Through him we find the possibility for hope, love, joy, and peace.” Justice now has a new face, the unexpected powerless, dependant visage of a newborn baby. We look to power and might – politicians and armies – to enforce peace, but this baby shows us that peace comes through humility, powerlessness, and reliance upon the Divine to accomplish the mystical reality of peace in unexpected, even impossible ways.

As people around the world pause today – Christmas Day – may many realize the pregnant truth of the moment; that the birth of Jesus, the light of the world, may give birth to hope, love, joy, peace, and justice in our lives and in our world!

Light a candle today and remember - the light has come!

Emmanuel

Once again my favorite time in the Christian calendar has arrived - Advent, the prelude to Christmas. "Come oh come Emmanuel" we sing, we plead, we pray. Its not so much that we are waiting to place baby Jesus into the Nativity scenes that fill our home, but that we long for Jesus to be more real, more evident, more present in our lives each day. For me, its not so much a focus on "the second coming" or "the last days" longed for in escatological discussions, but the realization that I don't live each moment filled with the reality of Jesus presence and influence in all that I do. This season calls my attention to Jesus presence. Everywhere I look this season I am reminded of Jesus' Kingdom. I am also reminded how I often miss, or worse, ignore the presence of the Kingdom of God in my life. God's kingdom is not relegated to Advent, but it is so much easier to recognize it in the trapping of Advent: the candles, the evergreens, the lights and presents under our Christmas trees.
My hope this year is that I can carry the knowledge of Jesus presence into the new year with the same excitement and anticipation that I have looking forward to Christmas.
Last night Karlie, our three year old, was playing with one of our Nativity sets. Role playing with one of the three kings, in a high pitched voice she announced, "the kingdom is saved!" In itself that is funny, but its also incredibly profound. Advent reminds us that through Jesus life is redeemed. God's Kingdom is here and all is (still) well in light of God's presence. But, his people, those who have seen and accepted his grace & love, must recognize and claim (again) the impact that Jesus can have on our living. We can be the hands and feet of the kingdom. We are the ones who must make the Kingdom a present reality for others. We must live Kingdom community with each other. We must live grace and peace in all of our relationships, thoughts, and actions. But first, we need to be reminded that "Emmanuel, God is with us!"
This Advent, may we each allow God to remind us of the areas of our lives that need to be impacted by the coming of Jesus! May we prepare for his coming! May this Christmas be a time when we each learn to live as more complete citizens of the Kingdom of God!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

John and Drew update

For a really cool update on John and Drew go to the link above, on the panel below the mail picture, locate the small picture with "John and Drew" written on it.

The site also features letters from lots of folks who have written about the extent to which they will sacrifice all for the sake of the gospel. Read through the letters. Maybe write your own letter. Give some thought to what you would write if you knew you may never some back from a mission trip....

Lessons learned a million miles away....

Last night at the UGA BCM worship Gathering we had the opportunity to hear from Drew Hooks and John Younker as they related their summer missions excursion to Lesotho in south Africa. Like many who come back from such experiences, John and Drew shared the ways that their encounter with a culture vastly different from their own impacted the way they now see the world. Perhaps the most important lesson they learned in the village where they lived was that the only way to be missional was to actually model their lives and daily activities after that of Jesus. Like Jesus, they had to be incarnational. The Gospel became more about living and less about following rules or trying to live up to someone else's ideas about holiness, oughtness or "Christian living". Each day they attempted to do the things Jesus would did with everyone they encountered. In so doing, they discovered and experienced freedom and grace in new, vibrant ways. Today both men are trying to apply what they learned thousands of miles away in their "normal" lives as students at UGA. They are finding that it really is not as different as they thought it would be.

Song of Peace

This weekend I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be both a USAmerican and a Christian. My wife is the organist at a local church. Holiday weekends such as this always bring about conversations about the appropriateness of bringing songs into worship that celebrate our country and our citizenship. Often it seems that such celebrations are more about self-congratulation or nation worship than about worship of the God of the Bible who transcends our country. Don’t get me wrong – I am proud to be an American. I think we have the best functioning government anywhere and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I do thank God for this country and for those who represent us in our nation's capital. But I often struggle with proper perspective, with keeping my citizenship in God’s Kingdom above my obligations as a US citizen. Though some would disagree, the two citizenships do not always agree in focus, scope, or purpose. I hope that my focus preferences God’s Kingdom, purposes and perspectives where the two disagree.

This weekend I was introduced to Song of Peace, a hymn that captures my current thoughts. There are many different versions of the song, a link to one is above. Listen or read the text – it is profound. What do you think?

Song of Peace

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
this is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a prayer that peace transcends in every place;
and yet I pray for my beloved country --
the reassurance of continued grace:
Lord, help us find our one-ness in the Savior,
in spite of differences of age and race.

May truth and freedom come to every nation;
may peace abound where strife has raged so long;
that each may seek to love and build together,
a world united, righting every wrong;
a world united in its love for freedom,
proclaiming peace together in one song.

This is my prayer, O Lord of all earth's kingdoms,
thy kingdom come, on earth, thy will be done;
let Christ be lifted up 'til all shall serve him,
and hearts united, learn to live as one:
O hear my prayer, thou God of all the nations,
myself I give thee -- let thy will be done

As I pray this weekend - and in the coming days - I hope I may gain God's visions for our country and our world.

Give me your eyes O God: Give me your vision for this world.

a non-reactionary life

This morning I’m pondering if it is possible to live a non-reactionary life. Let me explain: many, if not most, of the people I meet are driven by a particular event that occurred to them in the distant past or they live each day in reaction to external events (activities, people, ideas) instead of being internally motivated. It seems that for most people identity development is prompted by crisis moments. Some people negotiate crises in a healthy way, consciously choosing to adjust their ideology or lifestyle appropriately. Whereas others become bitter or withdraw or are driven by a manic need to somehow achieve revenge or to make up for a perceived loss that occurred as a result of the crisis. Sometimes the result can be positive, but often it is not. In talking to the many collegians and alumni who come my way it seems that some do not even realize the effects crises have on their lives. However, many others are thoughtful, taking the care and time needed to do the deep, often difficult soul-level work needed to choose to have control of who they become.

As a minister and often counselor I have found that many people are resistant to asking questions. Most just want answers without living in and with the tough questions of life. Many times the quick or easy answers are not the most helpful. Even when our faith gives us guidance some inner wrestling needs to take place before we truly understand, appreciate and are able to appropriate the answers gleaned in those rich religious traditions. Most theology did not come about through intellectual study, but through deep soul searching, prayer and wrestling with God. In this vein, Jacob is my hero. For the rest of his life, his night long wrestling match with God left its mark on him. This next year my challenge is to help my students learn to wrestle through the tough issues and not only accept the easy answers others have gained through their own dark nights of the soul!

 

 

 

 

God of the City (and everything)

This YouTube interview of the lead singer of Bluetree (click on the title above) about the inspiration of his song, "God of the City", captures a spirit of action and service that I want to embody in my own faith practice and that I want to teach to my students and children. If those of us who claim the mantle, "Christian", would begin living and serving out of our love for Jesus instead of criticizing those whose morality or perspective is not our own, we could truly make a difference! We would also be taken more seriously by those who are currently criticizing us as hypocrites!

Encounter with Jesus

The jaunt to Samford U with a group of UGA students to see Shane Claiborne was a profound experience. Much of what Shane said can be found in his books & videos. However hearing him weave the stories together on stage while sitting in a chapel filled with excited students provided a spirit-filled milieu to hear the stories anew.

I've copied some of the most inspiring or disturbing thoughts and quotes below. Though these emerge from his experiences, they were all inspired by Shane's life-changing reading of scripture and encounter with Jesus. In his word's meeting Jesus didn't make his screwed up life perfect and whole. Encountering Jesus messed his normal, Christian life up; "I'm still recovering from my conversion experience".

Here are some of the nuggets that i'm struggling through:

Faith is a way of living, not just a way of believing
Each American consumes the equivalent of 500 Ethiopeans per year
Jesus took what was thought to be unclean (dirt and spit) and provided healing (wiped them in someone's blind eyes)! He radically transformed perspectives and worldviews
Mother Theresa said that in the poor and lame, in the least of these, "we see Jesus in his most distressing disguises"
"The best things to do with the best things in life is to give them away"
Ask yourself, "what if Jesus meant the things that he said?" So much of what he said collides with the way we live, with our USAmerican approach to life. "We need a new imagination of the way to live in the world" to not conform, but to be transformed. Most imprisonments (1 in 8 African Americans) are related to economics - that's a justice issue that we have not sufficiently addressed
Christians are not normal, are not of the status quo, they "seek to bring about the world that God dreams of"
Jesus sends us into the world as "radical nonconformists representing God's heart"
Jesus loves evil-doers so much that he died for them
There are a lot of things worth dying for, but there is nothing worth killing for"
The question is not what job are you going to have "when you grow up" but "what kind of ____ are you going to be" - we are called to allow Jesus to transform what we are called and created to be/do into his likeness

I struggle through some of these issues I'll try to blog about them.

Heroes

A few years ago I wrote about one of the saddest days in our family. In the world it may have been a minor event, but for my son the death of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, was his most tearful yet. I will never forget sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, Nick cradled in my lap, as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, his tears soaking my shirt and mine his hair.

The question that kept running through my mind then and now is what should a dad do when his child's hero and dreams die?

Tonight I have been sitting on the sofa with my son, now a year and a half older, watching him watch his new hero. He has been waiting for this night for over a month - the BCS national championship. As we were watching the pregame show the network did an excellent feature on Tim Tebow. Yes, my son, living in Athens, GA is a fan of the Florida Gators. But more than the Gators, he adores Tim Tebow, known among the faithful UF fans as "Superman". But even though I am a fan of the UGA Bulldogs, it is really hard for me to complain.

In the feature they told of Tebow's humanitarian work - which anyone who has read much about him knows is based on his Christian faith. Tebow uses his fame as a platform to encourage others every chance he gets. But most of all he uses it as a chance to tell of his faith in Jesus Christ. From prisons, to hospitals, to mission trips in third world countries, Tebow gives freely of his time to share what is most important to him, what gives his life meaning.

So I may cringe a bit when I walk by Nick's room and see the blue and orange blaring at me, or when I see his wall of fame of UF memorabilia, or when I go to kiss him goodnight and have to sit on his Gator-head sheets. Kids have to have heroes. Kids will have heroes. As a dad I know that I can't choose his heroes for him. I can try. I can introduce him to good morals, to our families value system. I can make sure he is at church and surrounded by the things that I love and value. I can teach him about everything that is important to me. I can tell him how much I love God and how my faith in Jesus has changed my life. But I can't make him choose the heroes I would choose for him.

Steve Irwin was a fun hero. Our whole family enjoyed watching his various shows on TV - still do. We enjoy visiting zoos and playing with Nick's Sinoloan Milk snake. We all mourned with Nick at Irwin's passing. Tonight as I watched Nick watch Tebow I smiled. The glow of pride on his face as he watched Tebow preach and tell of how he loved touching others and using his fame as a platform to make a difference is a memory I will treasure.

My eyes again filled with tears as I watched him tonight, remembering that tragic day almost two years ago. But these tears are not for a hero lost, but a hero gained. And you know, I think I like this one better than the last. Its a great thing when you can take pride in your kid for making a wise choice on his own!

And I have to say it (for my son)....Go Gators!

Go Tebow!

Its a process

Some have asked about the conversation I had with Franklin that he quoted in Gathering last night. Here is what I said:

Need leads to Hope

Hope leads to Faith

Faith leads to Love

Love leads to Grace

Grace leads to Peace

We are all in process. Sometimes we are stuck between two points, leaving us feeling confused, out of sorts and without direction. While we fear we are stagnating, we are actually in a very necessary place of growth. We must have those times of discontent before we can move to the solid footing of a new perspective with new insights into ourselves, our experiences, and to see others in a new light. It's a process.

Wow....just when I thought I had done enough....

Who would have thought that God would use Bono to speak to me? Ok, you're right; anyone who knows me well!

 

Last fall several students and I crafted a series of worship services around the theme of Justice. Our goal was to bring attention to issues of justice by using the words of scripture to irritate everyone (yes, everyone) so that all would re-examine their own long held perspectives and actions in light of God's word. It was fun. Until it hit home for me.

 

The sign in front of our building simply says, "Baptist Center". It does not announce that we are solely a ministry to and for college students. Every so often we have folks who have just gotten off of the bus at the station a few blocks away wander in seeking help from a church. At times homeless or the down and out call or drop by as well. I'm not sure when I first met Ken (not his real name). I'm not sure what brought him in. But sometime near the end of our series last fall he came by again.

 

Whenever folks come by we listen and try to help as we can. We have no funds in our budget for indigent care - all of our monies were donated for and are designated to collegiate ministry. We could get into big trouble using those funds for other things. I believe it's called "misappropriation of funds," or some other legal term. In the past if the story is really convincing I will toss a few bucks to the person, say a prayer with them and walk them out of the building. We have had people notice when our crew comes and goes, and realize that these students are caring and giving. We have had people take advantage of our folks by waiting in the parking lot after each of our events, asking for handouts, rides, or food. Our students usually comply. After calls from local pastors or parents we have had to put a stop such tactics for safety reasons. We have had folks come in asking students for money or using our building as a place to sleep. Again, for safety reasons we have had to quell such behavior.

 

For some reason Ken seemed different. Or maybe I was at a point where I needed Ken to help me to realize that these justice issues we were raising were for me too. When Ken came by he asked for money for a specific thing. I pulled the few dollars out of my pocket and passed them on. I also gave him a jacket that had been in our lost and found for over a year. I passed along a t-shirt. After we had said goodbye he came back. Leaving he had seen a birthday cake downstairs on a table where we had day old bread an elderly gentleman had brought by from local grocery stores (his ministry was to collect bread and take it to local ministries that could use it to help hungry folks). That morning a decorated birthday cake had come in with the bread. Ken was excited. He told me his daughter's birthday was that day, and he didn't have a gift for her. The cake would make her day. I chuckled. In the past we usually tossed the cakes because our students never took them. They loved the bread, but didn't quite know what to do with a cake! Of course Ken took the cake.

 

A few weeks later I saw Ken again. He had another need - $8 or so to complete what he had saved for his mom's rent. A week or so later he needed $3.50 for bus fare. I began to get skeptical. I began to feel I had my own special project, or he had found his patsy that would always give.

 

Some days later Ken was back, a hacking cough that doubled him over when he tried to stand - pneumonia, the doctor said. He had a prescription in hand. He needed antibiotics. I drove him to CVS, paid for the drugs and took him home. A week or so later he was back.

 

God and I had a talk that day after I had helped with the need du jour. God and I talked that night..and the next morning driving to work. I had a revelation. I don't carry much cash. Like many in our society, I use cards to pay for just about everything. But what I heard God say to me that day was only give him what you have in your pocket. So that's what I do. And the next time he was in I told him that I would help out if I could, but that I wasn't going to the bank for him. If I had the cash in hand I would help out.

 

Late this spring Ken stopped coming by. He had talked about moving to Atlanta to get a job. I forgot about him...

...Until he walked back in a month or so ago. His mom got sick, was in the hospital, couldn't work, Ken had to help, quit his job in Atlanta, moved in with her to one of the many subsidized housing complexes in town, and came to see me. The weekly or biweekly visits continued. Rent was due, he was a few dollars short. Child support was due in an hour, he had collected what he could, but needed $23.25.

 

One day he came by and I wasn't there. He saw the picture of my daughter posted on my door. The pic was two and a half years old - the first shot we took in the hospital that I proudly posted on my door for all to see. I had even forgotten it was there. But as a dad of a little girl that he hardly ever gets to see, Ken saw it. He pulled it down, asked our administration assistant for some paper and a pencil, and began to draw. When I arrived a bit later he hid what he was doing, thought better of it and asked if he could take the photo and finish the drawing he had started; "I'll bring it back," he explained. A few days later I arrived to find an expertly drawn picture of my baby girl hanging on my door where the photo had been. The photo was there too, as if for comparison of the skill he had brought to the task.

 

"Where'd you learn to draw so well?" I asked the next time he came by, not for money, but to make sure I got the picture.

 

"School," he muttered, shrugging. "I've always been good with art stuff."

 

A month or so later I took the drawing home. Everyone was in bed so I left it on the counter. A few days later my wife found it as she was culling through one of my many piles of papers around the house. Ken had signed the drawing, so she knew no one in our family had done it. So I told her the story. She had an idea.

 

"Hey, why don't you find some pictures of all of our kids and see if he will put them into a collage that we can get framed and put on the wall somewhere in the house? And you can pay him to do it..." she explained. I took him some school pictures of all three children yesterday. He called back to see if I could buy some really nice paper or a canvas to do them on. "I want this to be really nice," he urged.

 

I'll pick the finish product up soon. I can't wait to see it.

 

But the nagging skepticism is back. It was whispering, but yesterday afternoon was yelling, "quit giving him money! maybe now you can find ways he can work for what you give!" He has been calling weekly, sometimes daily asking for this or that. It's always only a few dollars; "I need to wash my clothes so I can go to my new job tomorrow," "My daughter's birthday is coming on the 20th. I can't afford a gift," etc.

Then last night at worship Franklin talked about the results of worship: "worship that is real results in life change." Very true, I thought; Great sermon!

 

Then this morning I was trying to clean off the table in the family room, it's covered with books and papers for my research, and I picked up a book I had been glancing through last week. I opened it to read a passage to my son. I've been trying to find away to get him to read some devotional material. Nothing has worked so far, so I thought maybe a rock star would grab his attention. The book is on the move, Bono's message at the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, DC in 2006. There are some great lines in the message. My son is a radical little cuss and he prides himself for talking about Democratic social issues at school. I thought this book would give him some fodder for the day.

 

I quit cleaning and took the book to the sofa, muted the morning news that had been holding my son in a catatonic state as he tried to wake up this morning.

 

"Hey Nick, listen to what Bono said to Bush at the National Prayer Breakfast a few years ago," I urged as I began reading passages aloud. He shifted but didn't say anything. I think he may have glanced my way a few times. Then I read,

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them. 'If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness, and if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness and your gloom will become like midday and the Lord will continually guide you and satisfy your desire in scorched places' [Isaiah 58:9-11)".

He would have to include scripture! Ouch. My rising skepticism fell bruised to the floor of my mind, stunned by the very words that had shocked me last fall.

 

I flipped a few pages. My eyes caught Bono's words, "It's not a coincidence that in the Scriptures, poverty is mentioned more than 2,100 times. It's not an accident. That's a lot of airtime, 2,100 mentions."

 

I flipped a few more pages, realizing that my intent of inspiring my son had backfired. I had inspired myself.

"Thus see the the Lord: 'Bring the homeless poor into the house, when you see the naked, cover him, then your light will break out like the dawn and your recovery will speedily spring forth, then your lord will be your rear guard.' The Jewish Scripture says that. Isaiah 58 again."

So I got up, grabbed my Bible, and read all of Isaiah 58. Ouch. I began to think about Ken. What type of life must one live to be forced to beg for money? the other day when he called he told me that work at the car wash had been slow, one maybe two cars a day. He explained, "me and the other guy, we only get $3.50 each when we wash a car. I, I, a man just can't live on that!"

 

So I will give. If I have money in my pocket I will help when Ken calls. And I will do more. I'm going to get to know Ken. I'm going to see if I can help him find a way he can use his talents to make some money. I'm going to find out what he needs. I'm going to find out if I can help him finish his education. I'm going to offer to teach him some things myself. He has sought me out. I'm going to return the favor. I don't know why Ken found me. I don't know if God brought him my way or if Ken just found a sappy old guy who would empty his pockets for a good story. Who knows. But Ken is before me. And sometimes he is hungry. Sometimes he needs to wash his clothes. Sometimes he needs help paying for housing. Sometimes he is cold. Sometimes he needs to be a better dad. And I can help with those things. And I will. Any way I can. It's the least I can do....

 

 

God & The Machine

Have you noticed that God has been reduced to a marketing tool and many of us ignorantly clamor behind the erroneous rhetoric presented to us as if Jesus himself was producing the advertisements? This past election cycle served as an uncomfortable wake up call for me. I heard many politicians and even more presumed followers of Christ speaking as if there was a clear and obvious slate of candidates that God had chosen, called, and ordained to lead America and the world into the next century! Some even topped off their proclamations by quoting verses from the Biblical letter to the church in Roman (chapter 13). That states that authority is given by God. Ironically, these same prophets now declare that our future as a nation is dire because God's candidates were not elected. How can it be both ways? Perhaps these self-proclaimed prophets were wrong. Its obvious that on at least one of these points they were mistaken: either they supported the wrong candidates or God does not give authority to governmental leaders.
Perhaps the conundrum lies in a loss of perspective as followers of God. Maybe we failed to get to know the candidates sufficiently and allowed The Machine to tell us about them. Perhaps God is concerned about more than one or two issues? Perhaps there could be more than one valid Christian answer or approach to the ills of society?
In the aftermath of the election the pundits have not paused to re-examine there diatribes, but continue with even more rancor and determination. A line from Billy Joel's song, "Only the Good Die Young" keeps playing in my mind: "Your mother never cared for me, but did she ever say a prayer for me?" I wonder if a better, more Christian response could be for ALL Christians to begin to pray for OUR new governmental leaders-elect who are currently making plans and decisions that will affect the future of our country and the future of the world. Many of those elected profess to follow Jesus too. Instead of questioning their allegiances why don't we pray that the decisions they make will be guided by God? Why don't we encourage and support them as they seek to lead from their consciences and out of their convictions? Why can't we show a bit of humility and admit that we may have seen things wrong, that we may not have had the whole picture, that we may have been duped by The Machine?
I know I am going to be proactive. I am praying for unity in our country - among those who follow Jesus and those who don't. I am also praying for our current and future leaders, that their decisions and actions will be guided by wisdom informed by their Christian faith and the Holy Spirit more than by their political advisors or indebtedness to supporters or financiers.
May God bless the USA and the world, and may the USA bless God!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

What's grace got to do with it?

I guess I have always examined grace from God’s perspective, kind of intellectually and theologically, and haven’t spent too much time thinking about how I should be a mirror of God’s grace. When making decisions with groups or individuals I have often said, “If I err I always want to err on the side of grace”. Though that is true, I’m not sure I have really thought through what such a sentiment really means in everyday living. Student’s joke with me that I love asking questions, that I don’t give straight answers to anything. I don’t just practice the art of asking annoying questions to students – I also ask them of myself. The current question that nags my consciousness in most situations is, “What does grace have to do with this?” Related, but more personal for me is, “How can I be grace” in a given situation, for a given person, or relationship? I find that asking these questions causes me to be less judgmental, putting other’s needs above my own concerns.

 

A full life

Before yesterday I could not have imagined a time when I would attend a student's funeral or memorial service and not shed a tear. Yesterday I did exactly that. No, I don't think my dry eyes were due to me growing old and callous. Nor was it that I was numb from the shock of her death. The reason was simple - Miley Elizabeth Duvall lived all 23 years of her short life "full throttle". Her parents and friends wanted the service to represent Miley, not sappy, tearful thoughts of regret. Almost 40 people participated in the "Celebration of Life" (yes, all from the platform. Yes, the service was long). There was lots of laughter during our time gathered in the new Rabun County High School gymnasium. It was unlike any other service of remembrance of which I have been a part or attended. Actually, it was rather fun - which was just as miley would have wanted it!

Miley lived her life for Jesus. She tried any and everything. She took risks. She traveled. She has friends all over the world. She laughed loud and often. She played hard, both on the court (or track or field), and off. She was goofy, but didn't care. She was gorgeous, but hated prissy. She was laid back, but vivacious. She wrote notes of encouragement to everyone, and got people to try and do things they would have never done otherwise. You knew Smiley Miley liked you if you were hug-tackled in public or grabbed from behind, picked up and spun around until you were dizzy. Miley prayed to "Big Daddy" and lived a life to serve God in so many ways it would be impossible to list them all.

Miley showed all of us who claim to follow Jesus what living a life of joy should look like.

Yesterday I heard so many people, young and old, describe this vivacious 23 year old as their "hero". Until yesterday I only knew part of who Miley Duvall was. Now that I have the full picture I add my name to that list - Miley is my hero too!

Check out the facebook group for some stories about Miley (facebook group)

Summer Missionaries in Peru need prayers

Lydia Shivar, a UGA BCM student, is in Peru this summer serving on a mission team. This past Saturday she was in an auto accident with her team members and one did not survive the crash. Prayerfully read her account of the accident and request for prayer

surreal moment

Last week I found myself tossing and turning in bed, wracked with crazy dreams. Perhaps it was the strange place I was staying, the unfamiliar bed, or the fact that I was on alert as one of the chaperones responsible for 7 10 and 11 year old boys. It could have been any or all of those things. Or perhaps it was something a bit stranger, a bit more surreal. The dorm where we were lodged happened to be the same one in which my father lived over 60 years ago when he was a student at Mercer University in Macon. In fact, the room I was in was just next to my father’s old dorm room! In fact, the wall against which my bed rested was also the wall to his old room. I wonder if the walls have memories they were trying to pass along. I wonder if my breath felt oddly familiar to those old corridors, or if my name, being the same as my father’s, invoked smiles from the walls as it echoed through the corridors. My father was famous for his pranks, often invoking the ire of his dorm mates. Was it dad who was disturbing my slumber as he haunted the halls of his alma mater, or was only that were awakened by the irony of a chance housing assignment for a week of children’s camp that kept me tossing all night?

Oh My....

Most folks know of my admiration for Bono, the frontman for U2, and the way that his Christian faith affects his life. Each time I get the icebreaker question, "Name the person with whom you would like to eat dinner", my answer is immediate - Bono. I ran across the above video and was floored by Bono's direct appeal to justice. I have added this to the front of my, "you gotta see this" list. Take a few minutes and be challenged and inspired to change the world! Click on the title above (Oh My....) to watch my hero.... let me know what you think and, moreover, what you will do about it!

The heart of the matter...

Home. That word has new meaning for me after our experience on "The Justice Tour" this past weekend. Last night I was back at home with my family. As we were finishing our supper of Gordon's fish fillets and fresh veggies, I noticed our two year olds' top lip was swollen to three times it's normal size. Fearing a life threatening, allergic reaction, I scooped her up, rushed to the van, and drove (our minivan) like a Nascar driver (I can dream, can't I?) to the nearest hospital. Since we were already in the hospital's computer system, we were processed quickly. Our valid insurance meant that I didn't have to worry about the treatment options or diagnosis; we were covered. Throughout the ordeal I was treated with the respect a white, middle class, well-spoken, middle aged, adult male is given. I didn't have to worry about understanding the medical personnel or them understanding me. I didn't have to worry about blatant or implied racism. As i wandered the halls of the emergency area to keep my daughter entertained, no one told me to go back to the exam room. It was all rather pleasant. I didn't even have to cover my co-pay, "we'll just bill you if anything is due," I was told with a smile. We were back home within four hours of leaving for the hospital, returning to our 5 bedroom, 5.5 bath home without having to worry about having light or heat inside, as all of our utility bills are paid.

Home has a new meaning for me. As I drifted off to sleep in my bed, the green light on our home alarm system let me know that we were safe from intruders and fire. Home - my children and wife were all tucked into bed, nightlights keeping the boogie man away (as well as those who buy and sell children the age of my three to be used as sex objects). Home - where we thank God for our food and a good night's sleep and our wonderful family that includes a mom and a dad. As I drifted into a restful slumber I didn't venture a thought for those who were sleeping in shelters, or in the cold, dark night, or in the terrifying homes of their "owners" (who use their tiny bodies as toys or sell them to other men, hungry with perverted desire).

As I woke up this morning I knew I could call into work and tell them I'd be taking the day off to spend with my daughter without fear of losing that job. I take so much for granted in my comfortable life! As the day has gone on I have tried to process my experiences in Atlanta and Athens this past weekend in the attempt to make them "learning experiences" instead of just experiences devoid of any changes in my life. Driving to church tonight I was talking with my son about how most of the world does not have the same concept of "normal" that we have. I told him that for most people in the world our home would be viewed as a mansion and our possessions as luxuries. We talked a bit about how unfair it was that US Americans consume so much of the world's goods and resources, leaving many people in the world without enough to survive. I then asked him what he thought we should do about it as a family. He said,

"What do you mean, Dad? I don't want to do anything if it would mean that I'd have to change what I have. I like my life just like it is!"

And that is the heart of the matter, isn't it? That statement sums up what most of us in the United States think and feel. "from the mouths of babes" - he nailed it - maybe we should print that on our mission trip t-shirts or those we wear down to our volunteer one day a month at the homeless shelter. Oh, we'll give a dollar here and there. We'll buy gifts for an "angel child" at Christmas or stuff a shoe box with trinkets that we drop off at a church to be loaded onto a ship and taken half way around the world. We'll marvel at the pictures when we see them on publicity flyers the following year. But then we are done; we are satisfied. We then return to our homes, to our comfortable lives without a second thought for those who are home-less, comfort-less. And as I write this tonight I'm tempted to return to ignorance. It sure is easier. But now I not only have disturbing pictures in my head, I have names that go with those images. Not only do I have names to go with the images, I have the stories of the some of those I have met. Images, names, and stories that represent people whose "normal" is very different than my own.

But most of all what changes everything for me is that I've been hearing slight echoes coming from the recesses of my mind. The sounds are growing stronger all the time. I can make out words, distant calls in a language I used to know. My soul seems drawn to the words, though my consciousness tries to ignore them. In my waking hours I try to push the words down, attempting to quiet the building cacophony that is flooding the back of my mind. It’s getting harder to ignore, harder to mute, harder to silence. The words join with the images, with the names, with the stories, making a living, breathing, screaming, crying, photo gallery that disturbs my conscience, invades my habits, and irritates my normal, comfortable life.

As I turn my attention toward the sounds, the squelch dims. Beneath the din, I hear clearly a voice that is at once disturbing, yet comforting. I hear a voice crying beneath, around, through, and on behalf of the images, names, and stories. I hear a call I cannot deny; I cannot ignore it any longer:

It calls for justice.

It pleads for mercy.

It cries for me to help those who cannot help themselves.

It begs for me to do what I can do.

But that’s not all – the voice demands that I join the chorus, that I too join the din, that I lend my weak meager utterances to the choir. And maybe then one more person will not be able to push aside the noise, the images, that names, the stories. Can you hear the voice? It's growing louder, its screaming now:

The LORD works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed (Ps 103:6).

The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no such concern (Pr 29:7).

Surely the arm of the LORD is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear. But your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden his face from you, so that he will not hear. For your hands are stained with blood, your fingers with guilt. Your lips have spoken lies, and your tongue mutters wicked things. No one calls for justice; no one pleads his case with integrity. They rely on empty arguments and speak lies; they conceive trouble and give birth to evil. The way of peace they do not know; there is no justice in their paths. They have turned them into crooked roads; no one who walks in them will know peace. So justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us. We look for light, but all is darkness; for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows (Is 59:1-4; 8-9).

O house of David, this is what the LORD says: "Administer justice every morning; rescue from the hand of his oppressor the one who has been robbed, or my wrath will break out and burn like fire because of the evil you have done— burn with no one to quench it” (Jer 21:12).

The people of the land practice extortion and commit robbery; they oppress the poor and needy and mistreat the alien, denying them justice (Ez 22:29).

They trample on the heads of the poor as upon the dust of the ground and deny justice to the oppressed. Father and son use the same girl and so profane my holy name (Amos 2:7).

“So I will come near to you for judgment. I will be quick to testify against sorcerers, adulterers and perjurers, against those who defraud laborers of their wages, who oppress the widows and the fatherless, and deprive aliens of justice, but do not fear me,” says the LORD Almighty (Mal 3:5)!

Woe to you Pharisees, because you give God a tenth of your mint, rue and all other kinds of garden herbs, but you neglect justice and the love of God. You should have practiced the latter without leaving the former undone (Luke 11:42).

Oh God, keep the images-names-stories and Your words ever before me, locked in my vision, to remind me of those “others” who have needs. God, help me to see the “stuff” I don't need, so I can make life-changes in order to alleviate some suffering, pain, and injustice in my world. Let me join the chorus; let me shout with you:

But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream! (Amos 5:24)

Yes, Lord, Home has new meaning for me - I can't plead ignorance anymore; I now understand that MY inaction, MY inattention, and MY normal-American greed, results in others (all who have images, names, and stories) not having what they need to survive. Yes, Lord, I am depriving men, women and children - some of whom I have met - of homes, of food, of clothing, of...life. My actions and inactions are also keeping some of these same men, women and children, from knowing and loving you. If it is possible, forgive me Lord. If it is possible, forgive US Lord. Annoy us with your words, with your cries, with your pleads to care for those who cannot care for themselves because of our action and inaction!

Face to face with shocking reality

"Do you know any homeless people?, Jonathan asked, taking a break from holding my hands and running up my legs, stomach, and chest before kicking his feet over his head, flipping backwards, landing solidly back on his feet. "Why, yes I do! I just talked to them yesterday!"

This week I have been reminded of the simple, yet profound truth that when we meet someone and share our life with theirs, we change: our perspectives change, our stereotypes change, and our ideas about truth and reality change! People want to be known. People want to be needed. The combination of those two ideas creates a perfect relationship - we can give of ourselves in time and resources to help those who need to be loved and touched.

Before this week I could not have said that I know a homeless person, yet I have stepped over or around so many of them. No, I'm not perfect. Yesterday, I still felt those same feelings of fear when I had the opportunity to meet someone in at Olympic Park whom I assumed was homeless. However, when we turned the corner I saw two guys we had met the day before. We had spent time with these guys, heard their stories, and connected on some mystical level. It was really a joy to see then and to hear the progress they had made that day in their quests towards getting "out of the system," out of the shelters, and back on their feet. Several in our group went to see these two guys this morning after we learned where they were going to be. Lives touching lives through the love of Jesus - that is the best answer I have found to most of the justice problems we saw this weekend.

"Everyone has a name: everyone has a story", remarked one of our students after a day of getting to know guests at one of the social agencies with which we worked. That says it all. For our group they are not "homeless" anymore - they are Samuel, John, Horis, Carlos, and many others - men, women and children - all who have names and stories!

For what do I pray?

Our last study of the day, part 4 in "Get Uncomfortable", a Threads study by Todd Phillips, raises an interesting question about the focus and purpose of our faith as evidenced in our prayers. Phillips writes that we should pray specific, larger-than-life prayers that call on God to be God and do the impossible. "You hate injustice and oppression and the abuse of power. So these are my prayers: I ask You-because I believe in who You are and what You can do-save everyone. Stop the suffering. Lead us out to do the things that You have prepared for us to do. God, here I am, send me. Change the world through me and others like me" (p. 67). He goes on to ask, "Are we praying God-sized prayers, or are we just asking God to fix the things in our lives that make us uncomfortable? Have we lost that sense of wonder and certainty about God that a 4-year-old might have? Are we praying for big things that only God can do" (p. 67)?

We are learning to recapture this sense of wonder in what God can do - even through our small efforts God can use our tiny offerings to do amazing things FOR others and IN us! It is so fun to watch these students learn the ways God wants to work and will work through and in us if we but take a tiny, prayerful step towards justice and social action.

Spring Break '08

• I knew almost nothing about the problems of human trafficking - until I watched the movie,"Trade" with a rag tag group of students and interested community folk; now I'm horrified, angered, and want justice
• I was numbed by the horrors of children forced or coerced into prostitution in Atlanta - until I learned many were the age of my pre-teen daughter, now my emotions are raw with anger and deep sadness
• I was overwhelmed by the problems of the "homeless" in Atlanta and Athens - until I met John, David, and so many others, who I discovered are very much like me, save they have to fight to live each day
• I knew Atlanta was undergoing economic expansion by rejuvenating many downtown areas - now I know that many of the changes are systematically drive out those who suffer under conditions of poverty, creating many more people who must now live on the streets
• I was angered by the many inner city children who commit crimes - now I understand they are "created" by the cycle of poverty into which they were born
• I thought poverty was created by "others" - now I know that I too am to blame by my actions and inactions
• I thought that all efforts to alleviate poverty and injustice were the same - now I know that some ministries put a band aid on symptoms while hurting the spirits of those that need to be treated humanely
• I was taught that the Bible was primarily "God's love letter to me - now I know that the Bible cries out for justice for the "least of these" more than 2200 times, yet this is the subject taught, written about and spoken of the least in most circles of Christians
• I came to Atlanta with a small band of students who love God - I'm leaving Atlanta with a small group of students who love God and are passionate about justice

Where is the justice....

I am in Atlanta for a few days with a group of students. UGA is out next week for Spring Break. Many students headed to the beach, to New York, home, or some other spot to relax, work, or chill from school. We came to Atlanta seeking to see and understand some of the injustice in the world. Tonight we joined a group of fellow seekers to view the movie "Trade." I don't even know how to describe the movie. As we were told by an off duty police officer who was guarding the parking lot while we watched the movie: "that's a serious movie - not a popcorn movie - it's really heavy!" Here's the synopsis from Rotten Tomatoes (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/trade/#synopsis):

At once soft-hearted and hard-edged, TRADE provides a compassionate look at an ugly world. In Mexico City, men kidnap13-year-old Adriana (Paulina Gaitan) with the intent of selling her virginity to the highest bidder. Young Polish beauty Veronica (Alicja Bachleda) is held captive by the same men, and they threaten her young son across the ocean. As the criminals mistreat their victims, Veronica is Adriana's only solace as she is taken farther and farther away from home. Meanwhile, Adriana's older brother, Jorge (Cesar Ramos), begins to track his sister across the Mexican border into Texas and through the United States. On his mission, he runs into a Texas cop named Ray (Kevin Kline) who agrees to help him without ever really saying why. TRADE isn't escapist fare: it's a socially conscious film that doesn't flinch from the most painful of details about the sex trade. There's rape, pedophilia, and suicide, and the film doesn't look away or glance over the horrors. This is German director Marco Kreuzpainter's first film on these shores, but he works like an assured veteran. After working for decades in the film industry, Kline is often most highly praised for his work in comedies such as DAVE and A FISH CALLED WANDA, but he's quite adept in this serious drama. Young actors Ramos and Gaitan are making their major feature debut with TRADE, but they both communicate the fear and frustration of their characters with remarkable skill.

The movie was truly disturbing. At times I could not even watch.... Our goal and prayer this weekend is that we will be disturbed - disturbed out of our middle class, Christian-bubble of comfort to actually see the issues and people facing injustice all around us. As one of our students said tonight as we talked after the film, "it's much too easy for us to put in our ear buds, turn on our iPod to the latest worship music, and walk to our next class without ever noticing the people on the way." I'd add to that; often we, as Christians, become so busy with "good" activities in our churches and small groups that we don't have time to notice those around us that are facing issues of injustice - some in our very neighborhoods and schools. Child abuse is rampant - among "good Christian people" too. The sex trade is supported by people just like our neighbors. And we don't see any of it. We are blinded by our own needs, our own lives, our own Churches, out own children, our own worries.

"God, disturb me this week. Show me the injustice in my small piece of the world. Help me to see with your eyes.... I pray you will be disturbed this week too. It's only when our feathers are ruffled that we will notice there are millions who spend their lives in discomfort as they live with the injustices we ignore through our busyness".

Do nothing but nothing

Maybe I’m a heretic, maybe I stray too far from home, maybe my actions and inactions betray a deep lack of faith – or maybe not….

I’m learning – slowly – to read between the lines, to understand and appreciate the empty spaces. I’m learning to allow my faith to be organic; listening to my inner voice, my breath, my heartbeat and hearing God through, beyond, beneath, and in my very core. Often I demand too much of myself. Forcing habits and disciplines that are not my own, that only serve to stymie my growth, make my steps stumble and pause from the path that I am walking. Sure, there are times when I need to try new disciplines, to force myself to read, pray, meditate, to practice the “habits of the heart.” But as I look back, it is in the times of no discipline, the moments of “laziness”, the times when I just can’t open the Bible and read, the times when prayers seem so far from my lips, that I find I have grown the most. I’m just coming out of such a time. I feel closer to God – and self – than I ever have. I also feel more alive, more attune to everything and everyone around me. I feel that I breathe the very breath of God and that all of my activity and inactivity is exactly what I should be doing.

I wonder if maybe this is really Sabbath? The forced Sunday moments of doing nothing usually only make me bored (unless I really need a nap). However, when I do need Sabbath I am starting to recognize it and welcome it. I am beginning to allow myself moments, days, weeks, months to take it.

Heretical? I don’t think so. I need these periods of inactivity so that what I “know” can become a part of me, soak into my every fiber, merging with my DNA, living in me.

Wandering too far away from home? Perhaps. But growth for me usually only happens when I am willing to be stretched, pushed, pulled, dragged, or when I get hopelessly lost from where I think I need to be. It is only then that I discover I am exactly where I am supposed to be! Maybe I was lost when I thought I knew exactly where I was and where I was going?

I wonder if most of Christendom is not suffering from a similar lost-ness. I wonder if sometimes our confidence and busyness keep us from going where God wants to take us. I wonder of our disciplines have become bad habits that keep us trapped in an unhealthy spiritual place, rooting us in who we are, not letting us become who God wants us to be?

Lack of faith? Absolutely not. Perhaps my lack of confidence in myself only serves to force me to trust God in the moments when I have no clue. Yes, it is uncomfortable not knowing what is going on in my “spiritual life”, my “walk with God”. It may be cliché, but, I am slowly coming to realize that I don’t need to know where I am going as long as I know who is taking me there. As Americans we want to know the answers, we want to know the time, we want to know the destination, we want to know the facts; we just want to know! I fear that is the same for Americans who are Christians. However, often we don’t know, can’t know, and shouldn’t know – and that should be OK. Why do we have to have – or make up – answers for things that only God can know? Why can’t we be comfortable in mystery? Why can’t we allow ourselves and others to marinate in what God is doing in our lives without filling it with more, more, more, more? Sometimes I think we know too much to be able to use what we have learned.

My son was diagnosed with Mono last week. This week he is reluctantly resting. The problem is, he doesn’t feel bad. After a nap, or an extended stay on the sofa he is ready to get up and do something. But he can’t. We make him rest. He asked the doctor what he could do to get well. He wanted to know what pill he could take that would make him better. She told him he could do nothing to get well. She said, “Just rest. Rest when you feel you need it. Rest when you feel like you could play. For a whole month do nothing but nothing.”

Wow.

There are times that my busyness, my work for God, my involvement in “good things”, makes me spiritually sick. There are times when I need to “do nothing but nothing” and allow God to “do” in me – to heal me, to teach me, to work in me, to “become” in my very soul, to take me where God knows I should be going, to change my direction, to move me in quantum leaps beyond where my busyness has kept me.

So don’t be surprised if I tell you to “quit” sometime soon. It’s good advice. Quit! Stop! Do “nothing but nothing”! Allow God to do the work in you while you wait as long as it takes. Through the “nothing”, you may find what you were really looking for all along!

OMG, that's me!

Today was one of the toughest I've had as a father. Our baby daughter, almost 2, underwent some minor dental surgery this morning. I gladly accepted the parental role of taking her to the dentist and caring for her afterwards. It was wonderful holding her before and after the procedure. However, I didn't quite understand what the doctor meant by "she will be a bit emotional for a little while this afternoon as the medicines work out of her system". At one point my precious little baby was thrashing around as I calmly, but firmly tried to restrain her. Despite my best efforts she managed to break open the cauterized site under her lip, filling her mouth with blood. She was so violent that I couldn't even blot her lips, cheeks, hands, shirt, or the spots on my clothing or the couch. karlie is the calmest, most good natured kid I've ever been around! And she was acting like an out of control demon!
Karlie is her daddies little girl. There has been a special attachment between us since I carried her from the delivery room to the nursery when she was born. Between the measurements and procedures that followed Karlie would begin to get unsettled. But I was able to calm her down by holding one of her tiny hands in mine and whispering sweet words in her dainty ear. She responded almost immediately, quieting her cries and relaxing her body. The same practice has worked, without fail, ever since. But not today. Today nothing worked. Gentleness? Didn't work. Holding her tight so she couldn't thrash about? Nope, she became livid, actually shaking with fury! Letting her go, so she had freedom and independence to calm herself? That was the worse choice of all! As I scooped her up to try again I had to admit that I could not do this. I prayed for her (and myself) again, this time out of desperation. And as I regained control of myself, I had a humbling thought. Nate, this is you and God right now. You are fighting God as God tries to hold you and guide you, keeping you from hurting yourself. But karlie is on drugs, but what's my excuse? My answer is humbling, I'm pretty rebellious. No, I'm not running around living a sketchy double life behind everyone's back. But I do push against the boundaries just a bit. I do find myself putting my foot down with God, saying, "No, I am doing it my way!"
So I snuggled my baby girl a bit more gently, and sang soft, sweet tunes in her ear for as long as it took for the meds to wear off, hoping God is doing the same with me - holding me close while I attempt to push away, until my strength is exhausted and I fall gently, safely back into God's arms, into God's will.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Questioning my lifestyle

I’ve been doing lot’s of thinking lately. Reading Shane Claiborne’s book, The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical, has made me rather uncomfortable with my status quo, American-Christian, lifestyle. If you like your life and are comfortable pursuing the American dream, don’t read this book! It will screw you up, give you sleepless nights, and make you wish for less, instead of more!

Each month when I pay bills I am amazed at both how much is coming into our bank account and how much is going out. As I crank my van each morning – a necessity considering the proximity of our home to work – I wonder if the choice to buy it on credit was the proper use of our God-given money. Yes, we both work hard for what we receive, but could we do with less in order to give more to others? And then I run across websites like this one - http://junkycarclub.com/ - and my mind takes the train of thought even further down the tracks. We are just finishing a huge (and expensive) addition/renovation project at home. Was this a wise choice? Could we not have downsized instead of super-sized our living space? To do so would have given us less to worry about caring for and paying for. We would have had more time together due to the smaller space, and less space to spread out and hide from one another. We would have had more money to help others. But then I argue with myself, saying that now we have more space to entertain, to invite friends and neighbors into our home and lives. Why, we could even start a house church in our great room! Maybe so, but will we do that?

I’m sure I will be thinking about these things for quite a while now. I hope you will join me in considering how much is too much for Christians to consume, own, and pursue. I hope we will find the courage to change our lifestyles and practices to better reflect the faith we say we practice!

One Year

It's hard to believe that Karlie entered the world one year ago. The past two years have been a blur - of course I credit much of that to the exponential annual increases in the speed in which time passes for me. Each year time seems to speed up. I can not imagine things going any faster than they have passed this year. Karlie is thriving - but is rather spoiled. Between my in-laws, the perfect stereotypical good grandparents to Karlie, and me and Karen, almost the age of normal grandparents, the baby is rather spoiled. She is not walking yet, nor is she trying to stand by herself. Whenever she wants something somebody gets it for her or takes her to where the item is within her reach. No one wants to hear her cry. Now we are having to backtrack to try to teach her patience. Fun Days are sure to be [full speed] ahead!

Viva en Espana!

One of my students is studying abroad in Spain this semester. You can follow Mallory's adventures here: Viva en Espana!.

When dreams and heroes die....

Monday was a shocking day for our family. The whole house was awakened from our holiday sleep when my wife turned on the news and saw the leading story on the Today Show - The Croc Hunter, Steve Irwin had died. Her initial reaction was to shout, "Oh No! Nick, Nick! Oh No!" As I struggled to consciousness, my only thought was, "something must have happened to Steve."

Irwin has been more to our family than just one of the crazys on the discovery channel that causes audiences to gasp at his antics; he has been a member of our household. For our eight year old son Nick, Steve is much more than a hero. Like most boys, his room is covered with evidence of his passions. In this case it's posters of snakes, empty turtle shells, books about anything science stacked in every corner, and his two prized possessions - a Sinoloan Milk Snake and a Leopard Gecko. Since he was 4 Nick's dream (and educational plan) has been to travel with me to Australia with the sole purpose of going to the Australia Zoo, meeting Irwin and asking him, "will you teach me how to catch venomous snakes?" Nick had to ask his kindergarten teacher how to spell "Herpetologist" when drawing a self portrait and biographical poster to share with the class. He was mortified when she didn't even know what a herpetologist was, much less how to spell it. Nick longed for the day when he could work at the Australia Zoo and maybe date and marry Bindi, Irwin's 8 year old daughter. Nick wanted to be just like Steve. Not for the same reason most kids liked the animal activist, but because he loves animals, especially reptiles.

As I joined him and Karen in front of the television Monday morning, Nick looked over at me and muttered in monotone, "I always thought I'd get to shake his hand." I cried.

Later that morning my mom sent an email to my blackberry expressing her concern for Nick's feelings. I let him read it. When he handed the phone back to me he reached for a hug. I sat down on the kitchen floor with him cradled in my lap. We both sobbed for a long time. I managed to whisper, "it's hard when dreams and heroes die, isn't it?" He nodded and sobbed a bit louder.

Throughout the week Nick's dreams have held fast. He still wants to travel with me to Australia. He still wants to visit the zoo. He still wants to Intern there and learn how to catch venomous snakes - but now he wants to be taught by Wes (Steve's best mate), Robert Irwin (Steve's Dad), and pall around with Bindi (Steve's daughter). He wants to make sure that Steve's dreams become realities - whatever it takes.

For Nick, and for my family, Steve lives! He lives in my son who proudly dons his official Crocodile Hunter khaki shirt (straight from the Australia Zoo via the magic of Internet online ordering!) grabs a rubber snake or stuffed gator, and becomes Irwin, reenacting one of the programs he has seen on the Discovery Channel or Animal Planet or exploring the "wild outback" behind our suburban home.

When I told Nick a memorial service was to be held in Australia in the next few days he asked if we had time to buy plane tickets. I better start planning and saving for a trip in a few years. I don't think Nick will let me forget about it.

humility is a hard lesson to learn....

I’ve decided that you can teach old dogs new tricks, but it sure does take a lot longer! This summer I did a lot of reading about leadership. One of my projects was to compare leadership writings in the secular world with that written from a Christian perspective. For the most part there were no distinct differences, but some of the authors pointed out significant differences in the motivation and practice of leadership for those who follow Jesus. In all of the reading, the most surprising concept discussed with humility. As I worked through the various leadership models and descriptions (from Collin’s Good to Great to Julian’s God is my CEO) I became convinced that I need to learn to practice humility in some new ways and to new depths. I began to pray about it as well as seek ways that I could put other’s needs ahead of my own, not insist on my way of doing things, and learn to be a better follower in order to become a better leader. Toward the end of the summer I thought I had the concept down pretty well. Until I did the second most stupid thing I’ve ever done – I drove my van, with my carbon fiber bike securely affixed on top, under a fast food drive through. I know. One should remember that one has a very expensive bike atop of one’s car! After beating my self up about it for a week or so, I felt it had been a heard lesson to learn – yes, even I can be forgetful, get distracted and cause major, unintentional damage to stuff in my care. Ironically just the night before my son and I had been having that exact discussion as we were cleaning his room and tossing broken toys into the trash can. Humility, yes, I now had it.

Or so I thought. Exactly 10 days after my thoughtless drive under, I picked the bike up from the shop, paid the $250.00 repair bill, and confidently and proudly put the bike atop of my van for my careful drive home. I still had a few stops to make before I returned to the house. All the way I kept looking ahead for low branches across the road or overhanging wires – anything that may be an obstacle! While driving to pick up my daughter from daycare I dreamed of the rides I would take over the weekend – where I would go, which fun hills I would ride and who I would recruit to go with me. When I pulled into the parking lot of the daycare center I was in a hurry to pick up my daughter so I could get in an afternoon/early evening ride. Imagine my surprise when I heard a loud boom as I pulled under the overhang covering the front doors of the center. It took a second to realize what I had done. I took even longer for the realization to sink in…. As I walked back to my bike, suspended by the seat that pierced the stucco, swinging back and forth, back and forth, my only thought was, “YOU IDIOT!” For two days that thought bounced around in my head. It was a week before I could bring myself to tell my friends at the bike shop.

Humility, wow, what a hard lesson to learn – I have realized that this is not something to quickly read about and then apply to my life. Having a humble attitude and approach to life is based in the understanding that “I can’t do it by myself” and “I’m not really self-sufficient.” It is accompanied by the awareness that at any moment I can screw things up royally, and remembering when I have done so!

I’m still learning humility. My friends at the bike shop have offered to sell me a new bike at their cost. I’m learning that humility works both ways. It’s hard to accept such pure grace when I certainly don’t deserve it.

It’s good to know I can still learn – even though I feel like an old dog some days…. This will be a lesson I keep on learning all the days of my life.

She....

"She doesn't smile like that for anyone else," my wife said as we sat together looking down at our 2+ month old last night. Karlie was looking at me with an open-mouthed smile. Today each time I glance in her direction, the grin appears - almost a laugh. She moves from boredom or tears to a bright, full-faced smile instantly.


Our older daughter Natalie (in the picture with one of my students), now nine, went shopping with her mom last night to buy her first bras. Ouch. It seems only yesterday that she was laying in my lap, grinning at me each time I looked down into her ice blue eyes. Now those eyes are set in the face of an emerging woman. Where did the time go? Was I faithful to teach her the things she needs to know entering the scary world of adolescence? Am I talking to her enough? Am I giving enough of my time to her? I know my grip and influence on her is waning, and that of her friends is growing stronger.

My wife, still the most beautiful woman in the world, is in her early 40's. She still amazes and wows me. I pray that both Natalie and Karlie are seeking to emulate her, to be the kind of confident, secure woman their mom has become!

During this week leading to Mother's Day I pray we will all seek to put smiles on the faces of the women in our lives - because we can. We each can give them the gifts of our selves, of our admiration. No one else can offer what we can give. I pray I will always be cognizant of speaking my emotions to all of the women in my life. I've gotta run call my mom....