The way I say...

Hard words for shallow girls

2012-02-08T01:02:00.001-06:00

Oh catty girls, how you dishonor God. It's not cute the way you talk to your friends about other girls. Shallow chats and secretly shared giggles that destroy other people will eventually destroy you. How much more attractive is the plain girl whose smile is sincere and what she does and says when you're not around can still be trusted? She probably prays for you with tears. God certainly doesn't think you're better than she is.

Young Christian woman, jealousy and manipulation do not become you. Why do you not fear the Lord? Straighten up. Walk like the upright One who called you. Learn to get slapped and do not revile in return. Letting others shine, gives Christ a chance to shine through you. Whatever happened to the true beauty of the background? A gentle spirit is so attractive. Fangs and claws are not.

Stop hurting one another. Slander is a sin. Be careful. When God says He values and loves the one you are injuring, you are in a precarious position. Are you so proud, to enjoy the privileged place of honor in his kingdom that he purchased with the blood of his son, and you refuse to give the same honor to your sister? Remember where you came from, the mire. Remember that you are a vapor. Rebuke yourself before you embarrass yourself before God and everyone else. They can see it even if you can't.

Listen.
Pray.
Encourage.
Speak truth.
Suffer.

Love.

You are so ugly when you don't.

Ready?

2012-02-07T10:18:00.004-06:00

Someone needs to be saved. Somebody, somewhere has this idea that they need to be "ready" to be saved. May I submit to you that if you are drowning, then you are ready. If you are the walking dead and you'd like to be alive, you're ready.

The problem might be that you view a commitment to Jesus like you do buying a house or taking a new career path. And so you'd like to be sure you can really hold up your end of the bargain. Do you have the money for the house? Do you have the skill set necessary for the job?

You have neither the amount of money nor the skill set big enough or good enough for God. You never will. But he does. He is the purchaser, He owns the skills.

This is covenant love he is calling you into, not give and take. You bring nothing. He makes the offer, He grants the faith, He recreates you, He establishes his name in you, He buys you, it's his contract. There is no part, even in the fine print, that says you can save you. The payment was in Christ's blood for your sins and the deal was signed forever when he rose from the dead. Even the good stuff you get to accomplish after you're saved happens because he ascended to the Father and lives to pray for you.

There is a way to know if you aren't ready, and that is if you still wish to not belong to him. If you say you aren't ready, it's probably because you don't really want what he's offering because you would like to bring something along with you into his kingdom. When I say you bring nothing (none of your good merits get you in) I also mean that you can't drag things into the kingdom that you love more than Jesus. Leave your sin behind. If you love your sin, you are not ready. But even this is no barrier to the grace of God.

So, throw your terrible past, your dirty secret sins, your evil thoughts, all your hurtful actions into the dumpster, ALONG WITH, all the good things you think you've done to earn God's favor and come to Christ, right now. You're ready.

The Spirit of God...say(s), “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost. Revelation 22:17

Get your tail, or something better.

2012-02-07T09:38:00.000-06:00

A dog can get distracted by his own tail. We find this amusing, because it's ridiculous. There is something funny to us about small-minded creatures running after pointless things. What is he going to do with it once he gets it? Bite it? Is that helpful to him in some way? This is why little pointer lights were made, isn't it, so that a cat can chase it up and down the stairs to make us watch and smile?

We don't wake up and say, I'd like to get nowhere today. But we get up and chase our tail as if, the other side of us is worth having. There's a distraction of some kind in our lives and so we begin fretting, thinking, analyzing, and even praying, about our tail, and we miss true help. This isn't as funny.

We can pray about something so much that, it becomes an obsession. We are seeking an answer (our tail) but are we really praying? I sometimes forget that I am to be running somewhere in prayer and not in circles. That somewhere is: the character of God.

We should be importunate in prayer. We need to aggressively bombard the throne of grace with our hearts desires. And then we need to commune with God. Nobody likes somebody who just calls them when they need something. God wants us to want Him. The satisfying answer to our prayer, should be that we prayed. Because prayer is where we just sat and rested and enjoyed being with a God who hears.

So I weigh the two: running around after something strange and falling down exhausted vs. resting with my God in the understanding of his eternal and enthralling character, letting it cover me in hope and trust.

I'm asking God to distract me from the laser-lights and tails that keep my focus so low and earthy, so I can enjoy the views of God's immense beauty and the perfection of a kingdom plan much bigger than me.

Firing Arrows

2012-02-05T14:54:00.000-06:00

I can't sleep, I keep thinking about firing arrows.

I used to get afraid of all kinds of things for my kids. I thought for sure, Carly would get kidnapped and Sam was going to get hit by a car. Then Rylie came along and I realized boys can skate down steps, climb huge pine trees to the very top, snowboard off the roof, and bounce so high on the trampoline that they can clear the "safety" net and land on two feet on the hard ground, and live to see themselves go viral on youtube. I've relaxed quite a bit since my little girl first skinned her knee. Life and bumps help you do that, oh, and knowing that your kids are arrows.

What is worse to me than my kids dying, is that they would be unwilling to die, for Christ. Some things keep me up at night. One of those things is not that my kids will one day take the Gospel to an unreached and hostile people group somewhere. I lose sleep over the concern that they may never even consider doing something so clearly Christian.

I said kids are arrows. It's true. God gives you a certain number and tells you that you must fire them out into the world, for good and glory; the good of the kingdom and the glory of God most high. Arrows are weapons. Sometimes they can be lit on fire and light up and entire city, if we aim them rightly. Arrows take a message if they are fired with the authority of the word of God, "This city will be mine. I'm taking it back for my King." Christian kids are born for the Gospel. That's all there is.

When the baby church was born, it was born of the merits of a beaten and condemned man, who promised that all who wish to live like him will suffer persecution. Christianity in it's earliest form was a dare, in the face of the devil and a hostile world, that though they are beaten down, they will rise, just like Jesus did. To go be a missionary or to speak up for Christ wherever you are, is so uncommon, because we have forgotten that it is to be Christian.

Funny how fears change. Yours can too. Just pray every night before you close your eyes, and try to sleep, that if you do lose sleep, you'll lose it for all the right reasons. Night is short and one morning, very soon, you'll be firing arrows.

Shutting up, and dropping dead for God's glory

2012-01-19T13:27:00.000-06:00

Two imperatives I do not enjoy directed at me are: Shut up! and Drop Dead! But sometimes God says that to me. God has things to do. Most of those things have nothing to do with me. I recently read a description of the new Jerusalem in the book of Revelation. It will be fifteen hundred miles long and it's width and height are the same as it's length. That's going to be a big city. He is building it now. I feel small.

There are a lot of people in the kingdom of God and he is actively working in every one of their lives to fulfill a purpose that he hasn't revealed to us, specifically, though we know it is for the purpose of His glory and the Gospel is the vehicle plowing through history to accomplish it.

God doesn't tell us stuff. He doesn't want us always putting in our two sense when we don't know anything about what he is doing either. He gives us a little bit of insight and a pity's worth of wisdom and we are ready to build a kingdom on it. He is building that kingdom and we are a tiny part of his plan.

This is not a post that contradicts my last post on getting moving and accomplishing something. It is a post about prayer. If I want to be a part of this huge and longstanding work of the ages, I must pray more. I'm growing increasingly aware of this day by day. This is so big, I am beginning to wonder if I'm getting any closer to accomplishing it. It's like getting closer to the moon by getting on my roof.

So God told me to shut up and drop dead today. By that, I think he means: Don't talk to the people around you about all you think you know, until you have listened to me. Then, after listening to me die to your own opinions and ideas and talk to me as if I (the Great I Am) know what I'm doing.

In short: Listen to God and approach him with humble submission. And be very aware that I might not be a part of the solution to anyone's problem today.

God is good. I feel safer having learned a little about this. I gotta go pray now.

Get moving, don't go alone, take someone.

2012-01-16T10:54:00.000-06:00

Leading is not what you think it is. It is a mistrust of yourself. You won't be a good leader by believing in yourself. Accepting yourself is a bad idea. Good leading comes from a suspicious attitude toward one's complacency. Looking back on your accomplishments should serve two purposes. The first is to make you give glory to God and the second; to make you ask yourself, "Where do we go from here?" You will not ever (as in never) be a leader of anyone in a good, purposeful or lasting direction if your attitude is "good enough". For a strong leader, it's never good enough. When you start to feel like you've done enough, it's time to start losing sleep. It's too easy for you. If you like things the way they are and you don't have the fire and fight to torch the world and put out the blaze all in the same day, then you need to get moving. No one will follow someone who is not moving.

"I'm not O.K"; is rule number one in Christianity. That's how I came to Christ. I was dead. Dead people don't move. Dead people don't lead.

Christ came leading. He started leading the night his giant star drew genius astronomers from foreign lands to come and worship him. Before the foundation of the world the purpose of God was that Christ would lead people out of slavery and into eternity. He led, on purpose, on time, and he never quit. Christ's whole life was on purpose. He never stopped moving. He didn't have a place to lay his head. He chose not to lay his head down to rest, for many nights on end, to pray and to seek his Father's purposes and good pleasure. When he slept on the boat, in a storm-thrown sea, it was only to lead his disciples into greater faith by resting in the storm and arresting the storm, in his time, for his purpose for his glory. They feared him after that.

So slap yourself awake, now. Do more. Do it hard. Pray more. Trust more, teach your boys more, teach someone else's boys more, prioritize your daughters and sons more, submit more, sacrifice more, listen more, learn more, speak up more about Christ. Get moving. Lead someone. Christ is coming back and you won't have anyone following you to meet him if you don't. And that's not good enough. It's not.

Getting Caught up in the Stories of Jesus

2012-01-12T09:43:00.000-06:00

Some women have asked me if they could listen to my messages from the women's retreat with Community Bible church of Nashville. So I have linked them Here.

It's what's missing

2012-01-10T23:49:00.000-06:00

How do you describe good character that is understated in it's presentation? Really, if something isn't showy, how does it show itself? A great writer isn't known for his many words, neither is an excellent orator known for his volume. A solitaire is beautiful for it's ability to shine all alone. A painting, though very detailed is most admired and identified with for it's single focal point. A bearskin rug needs no introduction in the center of an empty room. I think this is what I really want to say about my time with Faith Bible Church in Spokane, Washington.

Christ Jesus is the story told, the diamond shining, the focal point of every excellent detail addressed, the center of an empty room. There was a story teller, a preacher. There was a setting, many ministries, hundreds of conversations and a building that held all of this in. But I would say, none of that was what I saw. The vessels are see-through. You don't notice them until after you've seen what they are presenting, who they are presenting.

There were a few young men and women, I met, whose demeanor was that of diminished self and understated personal identity which demonstrated thoughtfulness and consideration for others. There wasn't excessive talk of "me" and "I" but an interest and a curiosity about others.

A message was taught with passion and urgency but somehow those two were the slaves of the topic, not the master. A humble teacher is a see-through vessel and it's contents are meant to pour out on the people. Faith Bible Church has that.

A language I couldn't understand, could be heard through one door and out into the hall. Though unintelligible to me, it spoke in loud, clear tones of the grace and sovereignty of God in creating his own foreign mission field on American soil.

The gift of kindness came wrapped in question after question. Curiosity, is absent of information but informed me deeply that someone cares about my life and wants to know more about it.

One young woman, in particular, is a person I know who could be known as much for what she doesn't do or who she isn't, than anything else. She doesn't talk about her self. She doesn't interrupt. She never demands anything to be done her way. She won't take. She is devoid of complaint. She stands in a quiet place and watches everyone else be seen, and doesn't mind being missed.

But sometimes, it's what's missing that you could miss and really miss out. This weekend was full of those for me and I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

2012-01-07T11:57:00.000-06:00

Have you questioned God's love today? Have you based your understanding of his love on whether or not you're having a good day? Is that how you know God's love is hanging in there, holding you? I just heard the Lord say, that is an evil way to think. The book of Malachi records the Lord's voice saying, All such questioning is evil. Then I turned to Psalm 136 and read all the things that prove that the love of the Lord is steadfast and endures forever. Here's what I came up with.

He is good

He does great wonders

He made the heavens

He made the earth not to be flooded by the oceans

He made the sun

He made the stars

He made the moon.

If you woke up to the same world you remember dozing off to, and it's still intact, then the steadfast love of the Lord is still enduring forever in your life. The sun is still shining, even behind those Spokane clouds today, and one day it will be dissolved. The moon will turn turn blood red and the stars will fall from the sky. None of us has forgotten that when God wants the ocean to overflow it's borders by a tsunami, it does. But you didn't wake up under water this morning, did you? The steadfast love of the Lord is spinning planets on their orbits, sustaining ecosystems, feeding sparrows and greeting you this morning.

Only, fear God and do not tell him what love is. Be sure not to darken counsel by words without knowledge. Even on the day of the most unjust treatment of your life, you are still alive. You will be alive for evermore if you are in Christ.

Let him tell you what love is. God is love. And in this is love, that God gave his only son that we might have eternal life. It is wicked to forget that. Be sure you don't question him. It is an unbelieving generation that raises questions of God's goodness and holds it's fist up to his face as if to say, "Please, Lord, break my arm."

I want to spend this new year, 2012, in Psalm 136: 1 "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever."

Psalm 136

Malachi 3:14

Job 38:1

Job 38:15

Envy the winner.

2011-12-23T12:50:00.000-06:00

Go on, it's OK to envy the winner of the race.
Howard's skipping like a loosed calf.
He ran his race against 92.
Ninety two lost.
The finish line is a couple hours behind him
and he's celebrating now. Feasting? Singing?
Dancing? Counting friends or angels? I don't know.
But it's with Jesus, whatever it is he's doing now.
Leaving me to pick up kringle and wrap a few
more gifts and go to the gym, eat another bowl
of cereal or something left in the cupboard before
vacation, something earthly, something people do when
they're still down here.

Leaving us in the dust.
Leaving us all to wish we were Howard.

Time me, Mr. Anderson, see how long it takes me to get there.
On your mark, get set, go.

Howard Anderson, the most dignified man I know went to be with Jesus two days before Christmas 2011. He was 92.

A poem, by Kathleen Nielson about a friend who died

2011-12-17T20:15:00.003-06:00

FOR SANNA

It’s probably a little bit like going to bed at night.
Finally, you must,
although you’re never nearly done
with all the jobs,
and all the pleasures, pressing.
Still,
you know the night is here;
you know the night is made for rest;
your tired legs are tired of carrying you;
and so many others have already gone to sleep.
And so you put a marker in the book,
and organize the piles of papers on the desk,
to be continued,
and you curl exhausted into bed,
more than ready.

That’s how I might see it
from the side of day and night.
How it looks from the side
where there is no night
I can imagine,
but only halfway.
I can do it best
by looking in the face
of one who laid his body down
for a long, dark, three-day night
and who then broke apart the night
and rose,
a sun that never will go down.

It’s probably more like waking up
and knowing that the work got done last night –
completely, all of it,
down to the bottom of each pile –
and feeling like a child who gets to play outside all day,
for all the sunny day,
and never get tired,
and never, ever have to go to bed at night again.

Kathleen Buswell Nielson
(copyright KBN)

New Post

2011-12-17T17:52:00.002-06:00

This post is for my boys.
The toll under the bridge ALWAYS wins the game!
TROLL LOL LOL LOL!!!!!

The Habit of Perfection by: Gerard Manley Hopkins

2011-12-17T15:49:00.002-06:00

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89). Poems. 1918.

The Habit of Perfection


ELECTED Silence, sing to me
And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
Pipe me to pastures still and be
The music that I care to hear.

Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb:	5
It is the shut, the curfew sent
From there where all surrenders come
Which only makes you eloquent.

Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark
And find the uncreated light:	10
This ruck and reel which you remark
Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.

Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
The can must be so sweet, the crust	15
So fresh that come in fasts divine!

Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
Upon the stir and keep of pride,
What relish shall the censers send
Along the sanctuary side!	20

O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
That want the yield of plushy sward,
But you shall walk the golden street
And you unhouse and house the Lord.

And, Poverty, be thou the bride	25
And now the marriage feast begun,
And lily-coloured clothes provide
Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.

The Gospel in verbs.

2011-12-06T02:09:00.001-06:00

Live the Gospel:
You are the Sonshine, girl shine bright
Nobody can tell you to put out that light.

Speak the Gospel:
You are the truth-crash, boy crash hard
No one can silence the words of your Lord.

Expect people to believe the Gospel:
You are life-jab, man jab fast.
Nobody rises when that blow lands.

Matt. 5:16
2 Tim. 3:16
John 10:29

One Star

2011-12-01T13:21:00.001-06:00

This is an admirably written Christmas song, by my friend Jacob.
It will call you to worship, just reading the lyrics, but the song itself is beautiful.
You can check it out and buy it here
It won a finalist spot in a song writing event on Chris Tomlin's website.
You can vote for it to win here, if you want.

ONE STAR Words & Music: Jacob Ronan

One star on the horizon
One journey,one virgin girl
One night, one empty manger
One child come to save the world

Two realms coming together
Two natures - flesh and divine
Two souls stayed on a promise,
Two hands hold the King of all time

Ring Christmas bells with the song of salvation
Bring in the tidings of good cheer
Rise sons of men and join with the angels
For Heaven came down and Jesus Christ is here

Three gifts laid in surrender
Three persons, displayed in the Son
Three words, Three days in darkness,
Three nails paid for our redemption

Ring Christmas bells with the song of salvation
Bring in the tidings of good cheer
Rise sons of men and join with the angels
For Heaven came down and Jesus Christ is here

Glory to God in the Highest!
Peace and goodwill on earth and in heaven
Glory to God in the Highest!

For unto us a Son has been given
Glory to God in the Highest!
Ring Christmas bells with the song of salvation
Bring in the tidings of good cheer (of great joy)
Rise sons of men now join with the angels
For Heaven came down and Jesus Christ is here

Failed dominion brought death

2011-11-29T09:19:00.001-06:00

King Adam failed to cut off the serpent's head at the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. If he had done his job and exercised dominion over that snake, by lopping off his head, that tree would have been remembered, for all time, as the Judgement Tree. Adam would never eat from the Tree of Life. His failure at that moment meant that a new and perfect King would come and ascend the Judgement Tree which would become, for us, our Tree of Life. This obedient King crushed the serpent's head and did it in a way that brought nobility even to the act of dying. For Adam's disobedience, we died. For Jesus' obedience, we live forever. Of His Kingdom, there will be no end.

I thank G.K. Beale for his hard work in writing A New Testament Biblical Theology,
my newest devotional resource.

Being blessed could mean mac-n-cheese

2011-11-17T08:47:00.001-06:00

Conversation is the vehicle that will drive your kids toward becoming something for the Kingdom of God. Last night, coming home from driver's ed. I began to list all of the blessings and gifts my son has been given by God. I asked him, "You have been given a lot, what do you think the Lord wants to do with you?" He said he didn't know, but he was excited to see what happens. Because I know him, I could list his gifts, talents and abilities. I know it sunk in for him. We spent the rest of the ride home with "Dark Horses" blaring at volume level 36. Strangely, I knew this was his way of expressing a desire for his future to be something good for the Lord. This is conversation with my teenage son, last night.

When my kids bring something up, they really want to converse. I have been amazed at what I've learned from them. I've been blown away by the give and take of ideas we share. I consider myself very blessed.

It reminded me of a couple things.
#1. It was never my goal to just raise kids who stay out of trouble.
#2. I do not regret one single day of staying home with my kids.

These two points have made the entire world of difference between hating my life and absolutely loving it. Raising kids is not just a matter of making sure someone is there to babysit them so they don't get hurt. It's not just getting them a good education so they aren't idiots. It is brainwashing them. I do not apologize for this. I wanted to be the one who told them how to think. It is exactly how our heavenly Father is with us. "Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing (brainwashing) of your minds." There are hundreds of other references to God being our instructor and his word being our light. Search it out and see what you can find.

From the time they were little, I wanted them to learn the world as God sees it. I wanted to see them light up when things finally made sense. I wanted to be the one they trusted, who found the answers for them. I wanted to converse with them then and I love it now.

I have learned that if I want to talk to them, I need to know them and I need to be available to them. They will talk when they want to. But if I'm not there when they want to, I miss out.

Great conversations are born from your kids knowing you love them. Love is time. There is no substitute for time. Down time, fun time, nothing time, fighting time, talking time, sick time, dinner time, music and dance party time, Scripture time, teaching time, praying time, listening time, joking time, working time, it is all necessary and it all adds up to love in their minds.

If you want to talk to your kids you have to listen to them. You have to know them. Hear who they are. Get used to the sound of their voice and the way they express themselves. You have to be quiet. You have to ask questions. If you don't want to know what they're thinking, you are failing. The listening person earns the right to be heard.

I am far from a perfect parent, which is why I am writing this. This post is born out of a night of "working through the issues" and I came out rejoicing. I can have spiritual conversations with my kids. They love me. There is no way to express the extreme love I have for them. I enjoy them more than anything I can think of. This is grace upon grace to me, from my loving God.

I guess what I want to say is, if you are a young mom or you're thinking about starting a family, eat mac-n-cheese and canned green beans. Live in poverty, on nothing but love and dependence upon God in prayer. Be as poor as you have to be in order to BE WITH YOUR KIDS. And one day you will have fantastic conversations with them and you will realize this is just the way they are rising up and calling you blessed!

Looking back at Nashville

2011-11-14T17:31:00.001-06:00

My plane landed and I was swept up into the bear hug that is Nashville and what I am convinced is the kindest point on her map, Community Bible Church. If pretension was ever on the face of this place it was held down and scrubbed off long ago. There's a southern church on every corner, but this isn't that church. In a place where it's fine to claim Jesus, I visited a place that Jesus himself, would smile to claim. I was told quite a few stories, fed, laughed with (and at) and made to feel very welcome.

It's not their southern accents or their upbringings of ma'ams and sirs or strangers getting the door for me that impressed me the deepest. I've been around that before. The people of Community Bible church expect to hear the word of God and be reminded of the one who bought them back from slavery into a life that makes a difference for him. They know how to love, because they are always reminding themselves and being reminded by their leaders that they themselves have been loved by their sacrificial Savior. That's how it should be. This is a church.

The Pastor said something to the effect of...

People spend too much time designing the church around the seeker when they should be designing it around and for Jesus. There can only be one guest of honor. I happen to think he's right. Jesus is the only one who can meet the need of anyone seeking help, comfort, love and salvation.

They get it right, down there. I'm already looking forward to my next visit.

A Story about People You Don't know (part: the end) Everything's better from a distance

2011-10-19T10:04:00.000-05:00

The Whack Day parade went off without a hitch, and by that I mean the hitch that hooked the float to the back of Joe's car rusted off. But the parade still happened cuz Russ and Steve (people nobody cares about) dressed like clowns and pulled the float anyway. The only mild inconvenience was that Steve got a hernia, but like I said, nobody cared. The events of the day were what everyone expected. Everyone cheered for the candy that was thrown from the firetruck and for the paper mache image of the Judge, except for small children who would bury their faces in fear and lose sleep every night until they were eleven. The happy crowd threw confetti and sprayed Lysol in the air in celebration of their renewed joy in fragrant freedom. One guy accidentally shot his Lysol right in the eye of Russ (the float puller) but nobody cared. Russ tried to act like nothing happened and Steve thought he was just gettin' teary-eyed over the events of the day. Everyone came home to missin' stuff. The Sheriff and his deputy spent the rest of the afternoon answerin' complaints and eatin' pie.

When night fell, everyone gathered out in the fire station parking lot for a chicken roast and bonfire. That's because the safest place to have a fire is near a fire truck, so it could get there faster. Triple, the Custodian, was making his rounds asking questions about matters pertaining to the events of late, carrying a button and picture around with him, undoubtedly gettin' information for his next book. Pastor Pastor and Mrs. Pastor were taking turns spanking Twidge for lightin' bugs on fire out behind the wood pile. TJ Keltner, the undertaker was takin' his wife Katie for a fox trot around the dance floor while Benny and Mindfields laid down the most serious form of blue grass you ever did hear. Mr. Keltner could really bust a country move, especially for an undertaker. Although some would say he just wasn't the same after his bout with the shingles last fall. The professor and his wife showed up and everyone was so happy to see him alive, that they all pledged to take turns helpin' her locate him and bring a casserole to his next place of mishap. They passed around a sign up sheet. The Cotec came to proof read it. Cindy was being boring and Gert was out in the woods shootin' things. Mrs. Flankswatter was ploughing through the largest plate of chicken roast that a woman has ever eaten before or since that day. Dan Jack threw open the doors of Habib's mini mart and pronounced every zinger, snowball or fried coconut pie was on-the-house (stuff everybody hates and is nearing it's expiration date, undoubtedly). On the house means, free for the takin' if you're still with me.

This is where the camera would pan out, if it was a movie but it ain't, and you see a happy town of people you don't know from an angle much more comfortable to the eye, from a distance. They're dancin', laughin', eatin', and enjoyin' one short moment of life. From out here there is no mystery to solve, just a picture to be taken. Nobody knows, nobody's business at all, when you keepin' yer distance. It's a cleaner happier perspective, if you ask me. And you can take it from me, just yer average church goer, drivin' away in a dirty old truck full of stuff with three dirty kids in the back, smilin' toothlessly at the future.

The Secret Humble

2011-10-17T09:18:00.000-05:00

I think that people who are humble are really cool. They hide and surprise you. There is a kind of rare person in the world who just lives humbly. Actually, they just live. They do what they do. They don't create ways for other people to think about them. They aren't obsessed with fixing everyone. Life's not a competition or a comparison game. Most humble people are normal or corny. Most famous, well-known or noticed people aren't humble. The humble don't work extra hard at shaping every phrase into praiseworthy pronouncements nor are they contrary for the sake of exalting some special knowledge bestowed only upon them. Far from showing off all their good qualities or even, God-forbid, imaging forth a pretense of strong character that doesn't exist, humble people just are.

The game of consistent, pretend self-abasement points out the proud to us, doesn't it. Every time something good is said about someone else, the proud person "humbly" says, "they're better at that than I am." Joe Humble gives no thought to self, but is content hearing about others' contributions and finds ways to draw more attention to the good that's been mentioned. Even better yet, he finds a way to thank God and give Him glory.

I don't buy into all this talk that "once you think you're humble, you're being proud." Maybe, maybe not. Too much self analysis is proud. My favorite exercise of all time, is the judgmental deciphering of whether or not someone else is proud. That's proud. Only God knows that. I do all this stuff. I can't escape pride, she has always been able to run faster than I can. I can't stand her and I want her around all at the same time.

God is opposed to the proud but gives grace to the humble. Our Jesus is humble. His earthly life was the purity of all that draws the grace of God. Yet while Jesus was on the cross, God was opposed to him for the sake of our pride. This is the humility we're looking for, isn't it? Jesus didn't defend himself. We are so darn defensive. Jesus didn't tell everyone all about what he could do if he wanted to. We make stuff up or choose our phraseology shrewdly, to create fake images of our greatness. Jesus was giving up his position for a bunch of dirty takers. We jockey for position like hogs to slop.

But the humble have a way of sneaking up on you. While you and I are sharing, also known as talking a lot, espousing great fascinations from the vast universe of splendor that is our own finite mind and blah-blah-blahing ourselves to death, the humble are pulling ahead. The quiet ones have already hit the finish line and are being crowned and blessed and smiled on by God. The tortoise always wins, God makes sure of it.

Because Jesus was quiet and meek, humble and a servant, makes the final score more shocking for those who have imagined him to be powerless. He's not still dead. All authority in heaven and earth has been given to him. And every last thing he said he would do, will come to pass.

Watch out for people like Him. They aren't what they seem. The humble may turn out to be the strongest, the smartest, the most capable, the most interesting, the most beautiful and the ones with the most to offer. If we can't see it now, that's our shortcoming. In short, our pride.

High School ministry Fall Fun Night.

2011-10-16T15:00:00.001-05:00

Mulan

Joker

Captain America

Thanks for singing for me all these years.

2011-10-15T09:17:00.000-05:00

This is a "Sappy Birthday" post.

There is a soundtrack to our years. There is a song that represents every point on my timeline. Everything I remember, and all I plan to remember has and will have a song that colorizes all my black and white snapshots. I sure hope all these musicians have a life too, and they weren't just singing for us.

Cat Stevens' "Peace Train" and "Father and Son" weren't about what they were about to Mr. Stevens. They still aren't, to me. They were about my dad in a flight suit and me playing T-Ball for the green team, wearing a patch over my good eye and a giant bandage over my burned hand, waking up my parents at 3 a.m. to open Christmas presents. They were about cartwheels in the front yard where the lawn mower chopped up my first pair of glasses. There was always a big brother in some shade of brown convincing me to play something or go on his paper route with him, a secret language and a sibling understanding that fights were never really what defined us. My dad's album, my childhood. I can't hear those songs without turning them up and telling my own kids a story.

Yesterday for my birthday, my husband drove me 2 hours south, to a concert in Indiana. On the way we got stuck in traffic. I don't mind getting stuck in traffic. I like it, when I'm with him. We were listening to some of our favorite songs. I played him "Souvenirs" from Switchfoot's latest album, Vice Verses. It became one of those songs. I'm sure Mr. Foreman was singing out his own sentiments, but they're ours now. My husband doesn't cry easily. "I close my eyes and go back in time, I can see you're smiling, you're so alive, we were so young, we had no fear, we were so young, we had no idea that life was just happening." Our daughter is now the age we were when we started dating.

That concert in Indiana was the Songs and Stories tour with SCC, Andrew Peterson, Josh Wilson and of course, Ben Shive. I can't believe I remembered every line of those old Steven Curtis Chapman songs. I still feel funny saying all three of his names. We were there to see Ben Shive and Andrew Petersen, mostly. At the last concert we went to with these two, Mr. Shive was very kind to our son, Sam. He patiently talked to him about music, in a language only very gifted musicians speak. I remember trying to tell Benny (we like to call him Benny) one of my favorite lines and couldn't remember it exactly. Typical me. But the important thing is, that line is a part of my story now for two reasons. The first, being an historical marker of mockery by my kids that I couldn't remember it, and wasted precious moments of Benny's time, making him decipher my contextual, conceptual description of "my favorite line", which should have rolled off my tongue with the precision you would expect of a "favorite" line. Second, every time this song comes on, we stop talking and start singing. Sam will be playing and singing "Rise up" by Ben Shive, in church next month. It has become one of those songs to us. It is the writing of someone who understands that true words must be believed and delivered to the world with the respect of a corresponding, powerful sound. I just sit and smile that my son recognizes and values both.

Every Sunday for as long as I can remember the songs of God's faithfulness were the stronghold of it all. Christ was always the solid rock. The heavenly anthem kept drowning all music but it's own. There was always a Redeemer. Our story and our song was praising our Savior all the day long. When all is sorted out from 1970 until now, Christ's story has always been the song that made all the others enjoyable. His was the deepest tone, the precisely timed rhythmic apex, the anticipated familiar line, the new tune sung a thousand times. His song for me, the Gospel written and rewritten in me, is the perfect melody of a lifetime.

Random, No More!

2011-10-06T07:53:00.000-05:00

Practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty. Acts of kindness and beauty are only random and senseless without Christ. They are meaningless to the recipient, because you aren't doing them for the person, they are random. These acts aren't even helpful to the person doing them because they don't really matter, they are senseless. This is a cry for purpose.

I want more than this. I expect more from myself than this. Coexisting is what we do every day. I want to love. I want to see people set free from meaningless. This is just another way to say, "I am selfish. You don't mess with me and I won't mess with you." and "I don't believe in anything." I cannot live in a world of coexistence. I want to live in a world where people love, where people have meaning. That can only be learned by Christ. This is a giving-up on finding meaning.

Now here's one I can follow. I do visualize world peace. Not only do I wish for it, I know it's coming. I can't wait. The world will not only be peaceful, but it will be perfect and new. There will be no more tears and no more pain. Christ has every intention of recreating the world and because he has done away with sin, those who belong to him will become sinless and will never hurt each other again. Only Christ can do that.

I was just thinking about the world and what is seems like some people want. Many of them are very sincere. Some just don't want to get a job. Either way, there is a definite need for purpose and meaning. People don't realize they are sticking their desperation to the back of their cars. They want to stand up, but they don't know how. They want to speak up, but they have no real answers. They blame the wrong people for all the wrongs. They are stopping too short. They aren't going all the way to the source of the problem, there own sin. They aren't going all the way to the source of help, Jesus. Everything they say they want can only be found in Christ. I'm praying for the lost people of this city. Today I am praying especially for the misguided youth.

Jane's testimony

2011-09-30T09:46:00.000-05:00

Jane's testimony, as shared in our new members class February 22, 2009

What was for most, a day of devastation, was for me, a day of salvation.
While men flew planes into buildings, thinking they were pleasing their god "Allah", only to find out they were dead wrong, and while people in the twin towers were stunned, not knowing what hit them or the great danger they were in (even some contemplating their end) God was bringing about the death in me that brings new life.

God opened my eyes that day to His true existence, power and sovereignty and to the great need I had for the Savior Jesus Christ.

Prior to this day I was much like those in the twin towers who didn't know just how bad the situation was. My history, though sorted and ugly was, in hind sight, God's working of all things together for good to those who love God and are called according to his purpose. (Rom. 8:28)

Glory be to God in all these things. He has brought me joy in them now. Psalm 139:17 says, "And in your book they were all written the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them.

I was raised in a single-parent home. The divorce was the result of alcoholism. I started out as a soft-hearted child but experienced the world as a dark, frightening, unsafe and unkind place. To survive, I had to conform to the world around me, so I did. At age 13 I rebelled without cause. I got involved in drugs, drinking, smoking, swearing, sex and all of this at all hours of the night. I was any parent's worst nightmare.

I lived superficially on the outside. Inside, I was filled with shame, guilt and emptiness. At times death looked like the better option. I really couldn't see a purpose in this life.

As I grew older, things mellowed a bit, though I still made a myriad of bad decisions. I sought happiness and fulfillment in relationships material things, food and money. I sought out peace through new age spirituality. I knew no believers and plenty of spiritual gurus.

I had tried to read the Bible. I believed there was a God. I was even upset with Him for allowing so many religions and for making it so difficult to know Him. I had heard the gospel at a few church presentations. I settled with new age, making my own god of what I liked about the many different religions. I figured everyone had to come to terms with these things, with relativism, whatever is good for you.

At 22 years old, God mercifully gave me a son. Believe me when I say I didn't deserve him, as I had aborted a child, just a month before I conceived him. God would use that child to teach me to love someone else more than myself.

In December 2002, my son at age 12 would experience an extreme emotional event that would set in motion a series of events that would ultimately bring me to my salvation in Christ. That experience caused my son to cry out in desperation "Mom, Who is God?"

I became a desperate and driven mother. I was driven to teach my son about this God I didn't even know or understand myself. I promised to teach my son as soon as I learned. I read Genesis through 1 Kings which seemed at the time like a history lesson at best.

I then jumped into Ecclesiastes: Now here was something I could relate to. Meaninglessness and Vanity. What Solomon wrote had been my experience. God was starting to get my interest personally. Before that, this endeavor was for my son.

Then I read the book of Romans all in one sitting. I was riveted. I was getting anxious, even angry. "Yeah right," I thought "Just say this little prayer and you're in. NOT!"

This book showed me there was more to this faith than just "say a little prayer." I could see my life, myself in the passages of Romans 1:18-32. Worse yet, I realized I couldn't live up to this life of faith.

Who is this god who created me and why is he so elusive? I wanted to get up close and personal with God. I felt Revelation might be the place to do that. "Clearly God as a plan and things are going to get ugly, " I thought with a sense of overwhelming dread.

As God's timeing would have it, 9.11.2001 happened.

Proverbs 1:7 The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge. The change from that day was unmistakable! I became so aware of God's perspective of sin in the world and my life. I saw God first as serious business, painfully aware of everything in my life that was against God. I didn't want to displease Him. The lottery pool I ran stopped in spite of opposition. The swearing halted. There was no more smoking and drinking. The T.V. was just better turned off.

I thought I should go to church. I wanted to be with others who knew God and could help me grow. I sang "Amazing Grace" with full understanding for the first time. I told anyone who would listen to me, "God is real, you need to know him, you need Jesus." I just loved to talk about God and his truth.

Hungry for the word, which was my sole feeding. I read it whenever I could find time at home, at work, on the 31/2 hour rides up north. I never got tired of it. I have been in BSF for 4 years now and I love it! I'm desperate for souls. I take no meeting as chance, I'm always looking for opportunities.

My thoughts are no longer consumed with self desires, but instead with God's desires for me.

He has been challenging me and stretching me to do things I actually fear, but find myself excited because I know that whatever he calls me to, he equips me for.

In my 7 years of walking with the Lord, he has proven himself again and again to be faithful. Now his word is my most precious possession. My view of life changed as I came to understand that meaningless is how man sees the world without God. With God, all things become meaningful.

My son now knows the truth but has yet to receive Christ as Lord. Even in this, I will trust in Him.

Happy 21st of September

2011-09-21T13:16:00.000-05:00

September: By Earth Wind and Fire

You will want to listen to this while you

read. You are very welcome.

Do you remember the
21st night ofSeptember?

Love was changing the minds of pretenders

Whilechasing the clouds away

Our hearts were ringing
In the keythat our souls were singing.
As we danced in the night,
Rememberhow the stars stole the night away

Ba de ya - say do youremember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was acloudy day

My thoughts are with you
Holding hands with yourheart to see you
Only blue talk and love,
Remember how we knewlove was here to stay

Now December found the love that weshared in September.
Only blue talk and love,
Remember the truelove we share today

Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya- dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day

Bade ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Bade ya - golden dreams were shiny days

A Southern Beauty, quietly sparkling

2011-09-19T09:32:00.000-05:00

There's a black and white picture of a pretty little southern girl, dressed to perfection down to the ruffle. Her long braids frame a sweet face of sparkling eyes and a smile very familiar to me now, in a different face I see almost every day. Raised on ma'am's and sirs in a place of poise and good cookin' she brings dignity and good smells to a house that hundreds have called home. Hospitality. Acceptance. Comfort. Kindness. Concern. These are the sentences of this woman's life, page after page. She doesn't mind routine. She loves tradition. She'll keep your traditions better than you do, if you tell her they mean something to you, and buy you gifts to celebrate them. She finds the good in everyone. She's baffled by the pettiness and the lack of forgiveness in others, as her life yields the fruit of a true loyalty and devotion to everyone she calls a friend. She calls almost everyone a friend. She overlooks weaknesses. She accepts, no, she values the things that make you different. This woman pays attention to others and enjoys them. I would even venture to say that if there has ever been a pervasive sourness in a person, she'll search for the sweet, taking seriously that "Love believes all things." There isn't a show going on here, just true warmth, behind the scenes devotion, faithful prayer. She is a friend that loves at all times.

She dresses herself in matching shoes, accessories and the most admirable quality of discretion. In a world of people whose harsh words fog a room before they enter it, she is a flung open window letting in the fresh air of kindness. It is not that she doesn't have an opinion on things. She is smart. She is knowledgeable. She is a woman of conviction. She knows her God and she loves his truth. She is a faithful student of it. She confesses that sometimes she remains standing on the inside when commanded to sit down, and I have seen her give way in gentle submission to God's will, time and time and time again. She is the reliable comfort of unconditional love, not a neon sign, but a favorite quilt.
I don't know anyone like her, but I love what I see in others because of her. He who finds one of these finds that he becomes more sensitive over time. The little recipients of her warmth and patience, keep rising up and calling her blessed, now that they are grown. Someone I know very well, loves like she loves and follows her ways of discretion and gentleness. Her ears, eyes and smile, no longer in black and white, moved in almost 18 years ago and have brightened this place ever since.

Put her number on your "phone a friend" list if you want to win a million bucks. She knows her history and she doesn't apologize for where she's from. If you have a day, a week or a month, stop on by for some pecan pie and a story about anything in the entire world....and while you're there, make a friend for life.

2011-09-19T08:28:00.003-05:00

Godreveals His character to us in the Bible for the purpose of knowingHim.

Themore we know about God, the more we can come to know Him personally.

Themore we come to Him personally, the more we can come to love Him.

Themore we come to love God, the more we will obey Him.

Themore obedient we are to God’s will, the more we will know aboutHim,

forunderstanding does not only precede obedience, it follows obedience(Ps 119:100).

Theknowledge of God is absolutely critical to our ability to live theholy and godly life we have been called to live.

Taken from John Anderson's message, Sunday a.m. September 18, 2011

A story about people you don't know (part 13) Whack Day

2011-09-15T08:33:00.001-05:00

The events of late were coming up on the heels of Whack Day, and if you don't know what that means, it means following very closely. As if perhaps one were running away from the law and the law was gaining on em. But back to what you already know. The Whack Day Parade was a Farlstown, highly anticipated, annual event. In honor of the judge who figured out "what that smell was" back in 1915, as the story goes, Prudence W. Hack got his name in the papers. The editor of the Farlstown Decipher, back in the day, left a little to be desired in the area of questioning his own situatin' of things on the page, but only in things like spelling and grammar. It had good pictures, I'm told. But back in 1915, the June 10th edition of the local paper had the honorable Pudence W. Hack written, unfortunately, without a period after his middle initial. Nobody cared, except him. Everyone was so happy to solve the problem of the mysterious odor that overtook Farlstown, they created a day of celebration. This came to be known as "The Location of the Source of the Odor of which Whack was responsible" or "Whack Day" for short. Needless to say, the C.O.T.E.C. (the chairwoman of the etiquette committee) neither owns a subscription to the Farlstown Decipher, nor does she participate in the festivities of Whack Day. The editor of the Decipher, at present, is the great-grandson of the original editor and takes his legacy very seriously, as you can see from the following add:
"Come one come all, many whack jobs needed, to fill for the big day of Celebratin(') " contents of the parentheses added by me.

The parade is good for two reasons, it gives the police somethin' to do, drive their car down Main Street and wave and it gives the robbers something to do, steal stuff, since everyone's at the parade including the police. Generally people enjoy the parade. People don't mind too much that stuff goes missin' every year, until they get home. There are usually two official complaints registered with the Police. One of which would be, that one of the officers should actually do his job on Whack Day. The other complaint is that Twidge did it. But just between you and me, the C.O.T.E.C. is the only person we know who doesn't attend the parade and everyone would suspect her except the robbers always leave a sign that says, "Hey, Farlsetown! idiots Thnx 4 the stuf " And everyone knows that she couldn't sleep at night knowing she had misplaced an exclamation point.

This year was no different from last year. Everyone showed up to fill the Whack Job positions. They all worked together, nicely, to make a life size paper mache puppet of Judge Whack, to honor him and to creep the kids out. They also stick some balloons on the outside of the firetruck with Scotch tape. They usually have to redo some of the balloons because after a week of preparin', the balloons deflate and the tape bakes on the outside of the truck in the sun, and the fireman has to pick it off with his fingernails, but it gives him somethin' to do even though he doesn't care for the sound of his nails scratchin' on the oxidized paint. But as you know it's worth it, cuz it's better than that smell that used to be, and so he doesn't mind, outta gratitude to Ol' Judge Whack.

So Whack Day was comin' and everyone was excited, mostly because there was a town-wide picnic and lots of eatin', dancin' and gossipin'. And as you know, there was a lot to talk about this year.

The G.O.S.P.E.L.

2011-09-14T13:12:00.001-05:00

G.O.S.P.E.L. from Humble Beast Records on Vimeo.

A Story about People you Don't know (part: the other half of 12)

2011-09-08T09:31:00.000-05:00

If you haven't been paying attention up to this point, you might want to go back and read the story again, or for the first time, if you just got here. And I apologize in advance to those of you who just got here, especially if you're smart. You can find the entire story here if you're dumb or just scroll down if you're smart.

Here's how part 12 ended:

Twidge was caught and reminded of his mortality, for almost lightin' the Sheriff's car on fire. He was then promptly dressed and hugged, kissed and rocked to sleep. Most people would think this a tender moment between a mother and a son. However, she had no choice but to be sure he was actually asleep. And rockin', as you know, is the surest fire way to do that.

It had been a long night. Some things, that had been thought to be some other things, had happened in Farlstown. Habib's was not owned and operated by anyone of middle eastern persuasion, for starters. A fox was shot and not a perpetrator. There was not a perpetrator that we know of, cuz a man was alive that everyone thought was dead. Mrs. Flankswater was definitely not what or who anyone had assumed her to be. The church custodian, was not just a janitor. The whole town of Farlstown was in a flurry of confusion, and everything was going exactly according to plan.

A Story about people you don't know

2011-09-08T09:11:00.000-05:00

A story about people you don't know

Feel free to read this, but don't take it too seriously. This is the very beginning of a story about a pastor's family. Don't draw too many conclusions from this in any direction unless you want to, but don't take your own conclusions too seriously, cuz this is made up, mostly. And feel free to read this with a southern accent, cuz that's what I'm thinkin' it like.

Now if you're still with me, (and the highly intelligent may not be, it's just as well) then you have agreed to the terms above. Don't take this seriously for two reasons, it aint. And another is...somethin' about a rat's hiney, which I won't explain, suffice it to say this sentence is your first opportunity to comply with the terms or get out while you can.

This story begins in a small town, in front of a small church (got that pictured?) Well it's not like that. The church isn't a white building with a steeple, it's a bunch of old complainy people in a brick building that looks like it's straight outta 1974. Got it? It has some brown siding on it and it's in the ranch style. This church hired a guy they swore would never put anyone to sleep. They call him the pastor.

The pastor of this church had a family, a wife and three kids. If you are picturing someone you know, picture someone else. This was not the perfect family. Not that the person you pictured has a perfect family, but if he did it wouldn't matter cuz your thinking of someone else now. And everyone knows what the perfect pastor's family looks like, don't ya? And if you go to church, It looks like exactly what you think it should look like. And that's different for everyone. Well this family ain't that. That's what makes this story so interesting, unless your smart.

So on a day like today, (unless it's rainy outside then it's like a different day) a man came driving into town in his old truck, pulling a trailer full of furniture. There were three kids in the bed of the truck, as dirty as can be (the kids and the truck). They were smiling at the future. The future had more to offer though, cuz they were all missing teeth. You might ask why they were smiling. The answer is: they weren't the pastor's family. They were just another kind of family who were allowed to ride in the back of a truck and be dirty and wish they had all their teeth. Most people in this town were allowed to wish they had teeth. They weren't expected to have teeth, much less have 'em all in a row and brushed. Now...

If this was a movie, and it's not, you could pan the camera off to the right slowly and see two things almost simultaneously (that's, at the same time, for those of you who are still with me). The truck of happy, dirty children and furniture driving off in the distance leaving a cloud of dust behind it and a brown, sided brick-like building in the ranch style, with a guy in a suit standing out front dusting off his pants. This is the pastor.

Wednesday, October28, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 2) the lobby

Twidge is three, talks with a lisp and he don't care if it's Sunday. Nothing stands between him and irritating his mother. The church lobby is a means to an end. Every person there represents unlimited potential in the high priority of accomplishing maximum momma embarrassment. The only rule: stop just before yer spanked, if you can.

Twidge is a made-up name. It came from one such moment when his mom was caught up in the fluster of reprimanding little Thomas E. and shouting at the dog to quit licking the fridge at the same time. You understand. And it stuck. Ever since that day everyone calls him Twidge. In the pastor's family, he's the youngest, smartest and most likely to split the church (or rewire it depending on the day).

Momma likes going to church to put Twidge in the nursery. She has always looked forward to sitting in the front row and hearing the sermon all the way through without having to pinch a leg. Some others in the church with more time and spirituality have their children lined up and listening intently, without even such a thing as a whimper. Everyone wonders what goes on in that house when it ain't Sunday and we all suspect their house is haunted.

To understand Twidge's shining moment in the lobby of Farlstown Bible Church on this particular Sunday, you must first meet the acquaintance of Mrs. Flankswatter. We don't know the story behind her name, and don't inquire out of politeness. She only smiles when she's got somethin' on ya. The kids, old enough to know better, hide from her. The clever ones can pull off imitations of her when her back is turned and end it before she turns around to catch 'em. This usually takes the form of puffing out their cheeks and swatting themselves on the flank (whatever that looks like, you get it). She used to work in the nursery.

In a moment of panic, the pastor's wife realized Twidge was gone and began to scan the lobby vigorously. Her eyes moved from the front door to under the entry table (complete with doily), behind the fake plant circa 1975, and landed piercingly on a blond, bowl-cutted head. It was grinning and peaking out from under a grey straight skirt, it's two hands gripped firmly to the knees of none other than Mrs. Flankswatter. The scan continued up to an extraordinarily exceptional distortion of a face never seen before or since this vile intrusion.

The last thing Twidge remembers, before he blacked out, was the removal of his arm at the shoulder and his mother's voice saying, "We're going out to the parking lot to prepare your soul for the day of visitation!"

Not much else is remembered about that Sunday except this: On the way home a sniffling, puffy-eyed, salty faced boy asked his Daddy one question before he fell asleep in the back seat, "Did you know Mitheth Fwankthwatto could cuth?"

Friday, October30, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 3) the custodian

The preaching experience is quite different from the pastor's point of view than it is from a regular congregant's, like myself. Bein' that He is talkin' loud and all riled up, gettin His words from the Holy Ghost and readin' the text etc., he misses a few things. Sure he'll notice an occasional parishioner sleepin' from time to time, cuz we'll hear him clear his throat and speak up in that guys direction. But I doubt he has a fullness of understanding of the true extent of depravity that pew participants enjoy.

That bald professor from outta town, was taking notes during the sermon. He had a clicky way of holdin' his pen so as to click it once and click it twice then, three, four five real fast. Click...click...clicka, clicka, click. I got to countin' clicks and lost track of the sermon. He was up to 41...42...43, 4, 5, when he forgot the last click had left the ball-point extended and he proceeded to scratch the top of his bald head with the tip of it, drawing something that looked like a 4.5 on a Richter scale. Giggles from the row acrosst, got two legs pinched and a dirty look.

I doubt the pastor recognized the situation at all because he was deep into his sermon about the parable of the four soils. A lot of people were distracted from the sermon. Good thing it was a familiar text. We all know there are only two ways to apply this particular passage of Scripture. The first one is, "Twidge did it" And the second is, "why don't we sing more hymns?"

On any given Sunday many distractions abound. Only one of those distractions had to be hospitalized that I can remember and I'd been here as long as anyone. My aunt had been prayin' my cousin into church for five years when the answer came. Only problem is, it came after a long night of drinkin'. Joe walked in and sat in the second row. Aunt Georgia was delighted. Right around the middle of the message (you know it's the middle cuz he says "In closing...") Joe got to feelin' the effects of his lack of sleep. He nodded once (backward) twice off to the side, and the third nod sent his forehead in a clonk on the front pew. Someone yelled, "call 911" which translated means, wake up the Doctor in the back pew.

On any given week there were letters that followed the sermon right up to the pastor's desk. They were chock-full of suggestions, helpful hints and "prayer requests" for so-in-so to quit fallin' asleep in church etc. But sometimes the reports he would receive would be anonymous tips of unimaginable scandal. You'd be shocked at the horrors that can come upon towns devoid of movie theatres or libraries. The pastor had a rule of thumb. He'd run his thumb down the page and if it found no name at the bottom he'd put it in the little metal file under his desk. On account of he had to know who it was from. He'd call it Yella and toss it.

The church custodian was T. Dekker, affectionately known as Triple. He was a quiet man. He wouldn't tolerate kids throwing balls and messin' up the walls and such around the building, but was known overall for his kindly manner. Rumor had it he was a secret millionaire and that he made his money by writing stories of intrigue and debauchery, none the like of which, should be mentioned here. He would stay late "cleaning" the pastor's office where he would find fuel for his stories while emptying the little metal file.

Saturday, October31, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 4) Pastor, pastor.

Pastor Jeff knew what profession he'd attain to from the time he was in Kindigarden. That's when he learned to write his name: Jeffrey D. Pastor. Not every boy has the benefit of a calling so young. Plus, it's a very biblical aspiration to follow what you been named since so many in the Scriptures did that. For example Esau means hairy one. He was hairy. It was prophetic too, cuz things got pretty hairy for that guy. I've never known an Esau, but if I did, I betcha in some way he was hairy whether he'd let on to it or not, and if he wasn't he felt slightly incomplete. Other biblical names we just don't ask about like Nimrod or Dorcas.

Besides all that, Pastor Jeff didn't like being called Pastor Pastor, he preferred Pastor Jeff. Which is alright by most of us except for the chairwoman of the etiquette committee who, for obvious reasons of bein' proper, still introduces them as Pastor Pastor and Mrs. Pastor. Which sounds like three people on a list in a competition. But if she truly knew her etiquette (grammatically speakin') she'd say Past, Pastor and Mrs. Pastest. (and that's me just interjectin' a little humor into this otherwise mundane account of things).

Most pastor's wives would rather be called by their own name than Mrs. Pastor, but that was her own name, so she didn't mind. They had, like I said, three children between them (and if you don't understand what that means, then go ask your mom). Their names were Cindy, Gert and Twidge. Their mom's name was Anna. Nothing so much to say about Those names except for Gert who was named after her Grandma but they don't talk about her much. Most Grandmas bake cookies and spoil their grandchildren. This one spanked hers. She also packed a pistol and cussed like a sailor, which most people don't know, so keep that under your hat. I just know cuz I read it on the prayer sheet.

You might be wonderin' when I'm gonna get to the crux of the matter in all this. This is what you call the background information. And what's in the background is in some way pivotal to the story. Bear that in mind. It's gonna get better, just keep to the edge of your seat.

Monday, November 2, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 5) a multitude of sins

Lookin' back on eighteen years of marriage Pastor Jeff and Anna had some strange and interestin' events occur. Not many people know that their meetin' was a matter of prophetic utterance. Now this is amazin' on a couple accounts, on account of prophetic utterances comin' true are always pretty amazin', admit it. And secondly, Pastor Jeff wasn't one of those preachers that is always sayin', "Now let's get a prophetic utterance...does anybody have an utterance?" and the like. He tended to just stick to a text which even the people of the church who prefer the utterances still appreciate and cuz his wife is friendly, they don't mind. Plus in the back of their mind they know the truth about how they met according to the utterance.

Pastor Jeff before he was Pastor Pastor, was just plain Mr. Pastor and he was at school. Rumor has it someone (of no significance to the story what-so-ever except for the utterance) told him he would meet a girl named Anna. On the very same day, up comes a guy named Steve and says "hi". Well, Jeff was a little disappointed but didn't put too much stock in prophecies, seein' as if you ain't %100 percent accurate, according to the Scriptures, the person had to get drugged outside the city to get stoned. (There has been a little confusion on this matter, but it's not about narcotics) Killin' people with rocks isn't fashionable much anymore.

But Steve had a sister named Anna and the rest is history. The kinda history that makes a guy and girl get shivers and say "I do". Both of which they did and spent 18 years fixin' each other's rough spots, like all God-fearin' people. Jeff kept gettin' smarter which helped matters and Anna learned that you wear a dress on Sunday just to keep the peace, and pants once a year just to stir the pot. But sending out Christmas cards simmers things down and everybody eventually comes around and thanks the pastor for his sermon which so aptly applies to the person sittin' next to 'em or someone they regularly compete with in the potato salad contest or they think is dumb. And most of all they loved each other and their congregation, which as scripture tells us, covers a multitude of sins. Some sins, however, don't need coverin' but diggin' up...

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 6) Habib's

One block down from Farlstown Bible church and on the corner was a mini mart called Habib's (Pronounced Ha-Beebs). The sign read, "Habib's on the corner" which really irritated a few people, not the least of which was the cotec. (chairwoman of the etiquette committee) cuz of the fact that it was not a proper sign she could get her mind around. Was it "Habib's" as in showin' possession, as if Habib owns the mart on the corner? If so, it shoulda read, "Habib's mart on the corner." Or was it position as in, Habib is on the corner? "Habib's on the corner." This didn't make sense cuz he was never on the corner. In fact as far as everyone knew there was no such person as Habib. And the least of which, It also bothered the 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Persnick because it wasn't a complete sentence.

That is all neither here nor there to the story. It was named "Habib's on the corner" only cuz it is was on the corner of Hathaway and Bible street and is a combination of the two street names, "Ha" from Hathaway and "Bib" from Bible street and the owner of the mart, Dan Jack, was just bein' cute and it took him a long time to think up that name cuz he ain't that smart. But that's o.k. cuz he's got other good qualities like many dumb people I know. For example, he didn't look that dumb and some people look as dumb as they are or even dumber.

People are like that and it's o.k. That's why we all go to church, to be the thing that someone else cannot, like smart. For example the oldest child of the Pastor family is Cindy. She's cute and can run fast, but she's boring. Her sister, Gert is homely but can shoot a gun like nobody's business. Twidge is smart but will be orphaned or dead before age ten. Mrs. Pastor has a long list of shortcomings (refer to the prayer sheet under "urgent requests for unspoken names") But like I said, she's friendly and Pastor Jeff likes her a whole deal. I even saw 'em kissin' one time out by the car before he opened her door. And Pastor wasn't even distracted while Twidge was puttin' rocks in Mrs. Flankswater's exhaust pipe.

I told you that this story had somethin' to do with a Rat's hiney and this is where it comes in. One day out back of Habib's, Gert was shootin rats out of the wood pile, upon Mr Jack's request (not for pay, just for fun). Dan Jack was one of those names that you forget which one comes first, "Is it Dan Jack or Jack Dan?" I saw someone get in a cycle of this when they first met him and accidentally called him Jan Dack (shoulda known better that his name wasn't Jan, bein' a man and all).

Anyway, Dan would flip the wood and Gert would aim and shoot. A log got removed, a rat would show its head and "pank" that was that. Flip, Pank!, Flip Pachink! Flop Pa-ding!, Thud, pa-wank! She was dead on for five straight rodents. Four kids and Dan where rootin' her on, "keep it up!" when a large brown felt the call of destiny. It came leapin' up out from behind a bucket. It flew! In slow motion it glided through the air, spread-eagle like, front teeth advertisin' like it had some rabies to share. Up, up and purposefully to the left, landing as intended on Dan's shoe. In a cartoon-like reactionary leg-twitch, he catapulted it outward bound, on a one way trip to anywhere but his leg. It rocketed past Gert's head, kicked off the dumpster and performed a most precise tuck and roll, in the ninja style and took off down the wooded path behind Habib's. Gert sighted up and blew him namelessly to purgatory. They all gasped in admiration and ran to approached the victim to wonder at him. And that's when they found out, some diggin' needed to be done.

Friday, November 6, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 7) news

There's a couple reasons why news travels fast in small towns. Number one is cuz people talk and secondly, they have Internet. But there isn't much else to do, besides talk, unless it's your anniversary and you put your church jeans on and head out to the nearest place that has a Walmart and hit up the Sonic that's there. In this case that place is Farls City. It's a city cuz it has a Walmart, we're just a town. Some extravagant people just go on a whim, drive a whole half hour, just to get a Frito pie and a grape slush. I'm not judgin' cuz I've done it once or twice myself when I heard they were on special and I could justify the use of gasoline or another average member of the church, like me, was goin' and I could tag along. So people are lookin' for somethin' to gossip about and that's why news spreads so fast. An old guy in church says the three best ways to spread the news is, telegraph, telephone and tell-a-woman. This causes a disturbance because some of the young people don't know what telegraph means.

In this case, Gert texted her momma who was in Habib's buyin' a few things in between runs out to Walmart which was half an hour away, as I said (pay attention). Now Mrs. Pastor was walkin' up and down the aisles makin' sure she didn't need anything else and she began to grow concerned about Twidge. He seemed to be decreasin' in smarts and she wondered if his last trip around the barn bein' pulled on that old mattress behind the jeep had knocked him silly, since he rounded that corner and rang the dinner bell with his front tooth then careened, full flat, into the shed. This concern for his lack of smarts arose from him pointing to random things and calling them "Fwankthwatto". At first she thought he was makin' fun, one day in church when the Custodian was tryin' to take their family Christmas picture and they had to keep gettin' him in line so that they could snap it. He was pullin' up Pastor Jeff's pant leg and callin' it "fwankthwatto," so she pinched his leg. But then it got too frequent. She began to wonder if she should wake up the Doctor next Sunday.

By the time she got word from Gert, she'd put a box of razors, which Twidge referred to as "fwankthwatto"and two pounds of peaches which he counted out one at a time as "1 fwankthwatto, 2 fwankthwattos, thwee fwankthwattos etc." into the cart. Gert's text read as follows: "Ded guy out bak come c." Twidge was under the cart shaving a peach when his momma gasped and promptly dislocated his shoulder. She yanked him past the banana bin, out the door and round back of Habib's where his feet finally touched the ground by a misplaced log and an old bucket.

Five kids and Mr. Jack stood in a silent half-circle just off in the woods starin' down at the ground and it wasn't that nameless rat they were wonderin' at.

A story about people you don't know (part 8) stoned.

After Joe's hospitalization for fallin' asleep in church, Pastor Jeff made it his mission to escort him safely into the kingdom, and I don't mean by killin', but spiritually speakin'. I just had to be clear on that since there's a body and ya'll don't know nothin' 'bout it yet. As it turns out, that clonk on the front pew got Joe to question himself as it pertains to what if he died. He must have heard Aunt Georgia holler, "What in hades?" right after he hit his head and before he blacked out. That and havin' Pastor Jeff visit him, helped to tell him where he'd go if he did. But by his transformation, it was obvious the Holy Ghost had swept things out and made room for the new man to move on in. Drinkin' stopped, foolin' stopped, and along with that the smoke and the chew and goin' with girls that do, all stopped. He was born again and dunked and we all shouted Hallelujah, even those of us that some of us think ain't saved yet. We don't talk about that aloud on account of not wantin' to be judged ourselves, but we publish it in the prayer sheet under the heading, "those who ain't saved yet and shall remain nameless." All this to say, Joe is saved. He took a position as a volunteer firefighter and nightwatchman for the church parkin' lot. That's when the break-ins stopped.

As you might figure, Joe was the first man on the scene when someone called 911 and I mean called it. The fire station is acrosst from Habib's, on the other corner and someone just yelled, "911" and Joe came runnin'. Dan put up a sign in the window of Habib's that says, "Shut, until further notice." And a crowd gathered 'round back where the shallow grave of one outta town professor was located. After the removal of some leaves, everyone reco'nized him by the tell-tale markin's on his forehead.

Now we don't make a habit of jokin' about death. It is a somber thing especially a murder and especially cuz we don't get enough business in this town already and now some heathens will say we're haunted. Except for the time Pastor Jeff faked his own death to scare Mrs. Pastor, just to watch her scream and then chased her around the house with ketchup on his face, acting like a zombie until he caught her and kissed her and she didn't even get that mad (but we're not supposed to know about that and that was a long time ago, months before Twidge came along). But this is no laughin' matter.

As I said before, in all honesty, according to the facts I had at the time, that it wasn't fashionable to be takin' people out and killin' 'em with rocks anymore. Apparently, some vile perpetrator didn't get that message, cuz that is exactly how it was done. The professor was stoned (with a rock, let's be clear). After this, everybody made a habit of not sayin' things like "mark my words" and "I have an utterance" on account of, if it doesn't come true...well, "remember the professor."

But aside from all that, some back-trackin' to former events might shed some light on what has come to be known succinctly as "the stoning behind Habib's on the corner of the pen-headed professor in Farlstown." Which as you could foresee really bothers the C.O.T.E.C. because Habib's is not situated on the corner of the professor's head, the rock was.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 9) enlightenment.

Before we get to back-trackin' on what we already know we should talk about Pastor Jeff and Anna and their nightly practices. They have what some call a routine. Anna makes supper, cuz she likes to and the kids all eat it cuz they have to and Pastor Jeff loves Anna even when she burns stuff. After dinner when everyone's done complainin' about doin' dishes, they read the Bible. Every night someone different reads it aloud, except for Twidge who can't read yet. And they didn't let Cindy read that often cuz she was borin' and everyone would end up dozin' off by the fifth verse. But on account of her bein' cute they'd take her picture like she was readin' the Bible just to have the memory captured on film.

After Bible readin', the girls would get their baths and get off to bed. Twidge would get his bath and a spankin' and get off to bed, then another spankin' a glass of water, two cookies, warm milk, brush his teeth and off to bed again. This was the routine.

This night was unusually calm, even Twidge only asked for one swat before bed. Except for the crickets who could be heard in a low soft hum, every night, all was quiet and Pastor Jeff and Anna would collapse on the couch together and do what married people do, read or talk about the kids. Except for this night. The lights were low, the kids were in bed and it was quiet... so they panicked and ran upstairs to check on Twidge.

When they thrust the door open he was perched on one foot up on his nightstand, frozen with a sheepish smile on his face. His right leg was fully extended backwards with his sheet tied to his ankle. Their eyes followed the sheet upward to where it was then attached to the ceilin' fan. As their vision tracked back down the sheet acrosst his leg and up his arm to his right index finger, they found it poised to flick the switch on.

"Holy fright" cried his momma and swept him up in her arms. She immediately repented of that phrase cuz in her heart she knew there was nothin' holy but the Lord. She hugged him tight and asked him, "what are we gonna do with you, young man?" Jeff was ponderin' the Scriptures for somethin' that would apply in a situation like this, as he untied the sheet from the ceilin' fan, all while makin' plans to look online, tomorrow, for a straight-jacket.

"Why do you worry us, son?" and since she'd been worried all week about him losin' smarts she asked, "And why on God's green earth do you keep callin' things Fwankth...Flankswatter?" Twidge put both hands on his momma's face, five pudgy fingers on each cheek, and began to gently bite her chin. "Quit that! and answer me! why, son? why?" He pulled his daddy's face over to his momma's and bit his wiskery chin.

It was then that she put it all together in her mind. The razor, the fuzzy peach, Jeff's pant leg. "Mrs. Flankswatter has hairy legs! Is that it, Twidge?" Twidge yelled, "Hehwy wegths!" and thrust himself backward and landed on his bed flat-backed. "Jeff, Mrs Flankswatter doesn't shave her legs!" Jeff shouted in a moment of enlightenment, "I knew she was French!" "No! She's not French, Jeff, She's a man!"

This was not good. Three things ran through Jeff's mind at this point, not the least of which was, how in the world was he to go about verifyin' this? The second thing best remains unspoken of, at this point, but it had somethin' to do with pantyhose. And lastly, Twidge, until now, was the only one who knew her/his secret.

In a wave of mental back-trackin' all the pieces fit together to make Mrs./Mr. Fwank/Flankswatter the murderous villan everyone was searchin' for. Just then, their ponderin' was interrupted by a noise outside. The crickets got silent for a second and a half and resumed their low buzz. Pastor Jeff hit the light switch off, turned and yelled down the hall, "Gert, Get Yer Gun!"

Monday, November 9, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 10) friends

The sign outside read, "Keltner, Keltner and Keltner." There was only one Keltner left alive to run it now. JP and RJ went one of the two ways that most people go who visit the Keltner, Keltner and Keltner funeral home, when they come to stay. Only TJ Keltner was left to run the place alone.

The professor's wife walked in the front door and stepped into the front parlor very relaxed like, even kind of smilin', askin' the director there if he had a refrigeratin' room where they kept recent victim's of crimes like bonks on the head in the woods behind minimarts.

She came from Farls City, where she lives, and it had been four days since she sent him off with his packed lunch and that meant it was time for her to go lookin'. She knew where to come lookin' on account of her being on her way to the bus station, she saw a dirty old truck parked by the side of a furniture store with three dirty kids sitting in a recliner in the back of an attached trailer. The one in the middle was pretending to read the Farlstown Gazette. The upside down headline read as follow, "The stoning behind Habib's on the corner of the pen-headed professor in Farlstown." That's all the learnin' she needed on the matter and she boarded the bus for a half-an-hour ride to the little town just east.

Meanwhile, (that means in the meantime, while she was doin' that) a disoriented professor awoke, bein' revived in the kinda way he was used to bein' revived by refrigeration and he sat up quick and bumped his head on the milk shelf which was above his gurney on account of the funeral home also doubled as the director's home (and his wife, Katie also lived there cuz they were married and that's how proper people live together) cuz it was his livelihood and he couldn't afford rent elsewhere. Just at that time the professor went unconscious again from the second clonk and was just waitin' for his wife to come.

Mr. Keltner was confused at the inquiry by a woman who was smiling and holding a sack lunch. But he led her to the refrigeratin' room and opened the door and said, "here's the stiff." To which she replied, "He'll thaw." At the sound of her voice the professor was revived again and this time sat up slow, smiled and said, "I'm hungry."

The three of them went and sat at a table in the front parlor. The professor offered his wife a bite of his sandwich, to which she replied, "No thanks, grabbed a bite before I started the search this morning." Then he looked at TJ all generous-like held it out to him as if to ask the same question. TJ shook his head but smiled with the kind of look that tells somebody, "I appreciate the offer."

TJ, the professor and his wife enjoyed some laughs and tears as they shared their joys and tribulations one with another. The professor was speakin' of his Narcoleptic troubles with tears in his eyes. His wife shared her difficulties in locatin' him every four days and the undertaker told tales of strugglin' through multiple medical issues, surgeries and scary nights in the parlor alone with dead folks (on account of Katie didn't like goin' in there with him). The professor got to expoundin' on all the books he'd read in between bouts of unconsciousness and TJ confessed, he only reads the scriptures, but feels that's enough. A mutual respect for differences was struck up and an unexpected friendship was born this day between 'em.

For a moment, there was peace, camaraderie and smiles amongst new friends inside a small velvety room embellished with fake plants and dusty candles. But the world outside thought there'd been a murder and everyone was speculatin' as to what happened, creatin' a stir in Farlstown.

A story about people you don't know (part 11) accusin'

A lot of accusin' began to sprout up all among the church goers as to which one was involved and who might be hidin' what. And everybody got suspicious of the ones they usually get annoyed at. People start mixin' up the truth based on what they want the truth to be. And boy, how the facts just began to line up in their favor.

And what the Bible says becomes somethin' everyone quotes more than usual and is applicable in every situation until that situation says that you shouldn't be judgin' your brother and then that person becomes a theologian, dismissin' the wrong interpretation of things as it pertains to them. And some people are so sure they know what happened because they worked themselves up into a wild imagination of things. And that's a shame.

The new nursery worker said it was rocks in somebody's tailpipe, put in by Twidge, that killed the professor on account of he was seen doin' that one time when Jeff was kissin' Anna and that couldn't have been the only time, "once a rogue child always a rogue child." And some unsuspectin' Habib's patron just backfired a rock and the professor was the unlucky victim of a freak accident, "But I blame the parents."

And whose to say that nursery worker ain't just plain tired of dealin' with Twidge every Sunday and is seein' things askew based on bein' pure exhausted?

More than one person didn't mind assumin' it was the C.O.T.E.C. (the chairwoman of the etiquette committee, in case some forgot) outta sheer irritation that she's always so dern picky and nobody can do nothin' right around her. Plus she's always puttin' her two cents in and she had so much to say about how if things was done proper around this town rules wouldn't be broken like, "Thou shalt not kill," for example. And sometimes the more a person puts out their opinion, the more guilty they seem. And people plain don't like her.

Well, I say (not that it matters much since I'm just your average parishioner) that she ain't never had anybody really accept her and that's why she's nasty about everyone else's business. If I was inclined to be the kinda person who finds fault where there is none just outta sheer annoyance, I mighta picked her too. But that goes against my principles.

But the C.O.T.E.C. started buildin' a case against the fourth grade teacher because she corrected her grammar one time, in public.

That is clearly unfounded, funny, but unfounded.

The custodian, however, was doin' some investigatin' of his own. And it seemed to me that since he had no friends, he had no enemies. And no one really believed the rumors that he had a dime to his name, they weren't jealous. He wasn't out to get nobody and nobody was out to get him, that anyone could tell. He was a fixture at the church like the windows, doors and pews, and like the piece of gum under pew seven from the front, and in from the aisle about a foot, that somebody stuck there and I noticed it with my pinkie, one time.

When I say Triple had no friends, that is, now that the professor was dead, cuz he was still thinkin' that. Mr. Dekker was the one who invited the professor out to help him figure some stuff out as it pertains to a series of letters he found in the little metal file that suggested the question of some illegal substances being snuck in and out of Farls City through Farlstown. And that's why the professor came to Farlstown to help lend a hand and some merit to the truth of the matter and cuz he was smart. It was after some pen-clickin', note-takin', and wanderin' out back of Habib's that he wound up clonked and supposedly dead. Ironically he did get stoned on account of narcotics (in a different way than it sounds) but nobody knows that yet (except for TJK)

The day it happened, Triple headed out to the scene to sniff around for more clues as to the root of this strange turn of events and what really happened. All he brought back was a button from a woman's dress and the rock that did the job.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

A story about people you don't know (part 11 1/2) the room

Don't ask me how I know this, but round about the time of the break-ins at church (before Joe took on the nightwatchman job), it was discovered that Triple had a room in the basement of the church near the boiler that he used for all his adding up of events. Not many people knew of it because it was scary down there. But the boys and Gert knew, cuz they'd go down there with flashlights and scare each other (by holdin' em under their chins and speakin' spooky-like). And that was all fine and good until the day one of the boys reached the age of accountability and decided that Gert wasn't that homely and kissed her. She did two things at that point, not the least of which was give him a black eye, the least of which was, to make a rule you had to be under age twelve to go down to the boiler room with flashlights.

It was a regular crime lab down there. There were books and files, a computer, a camera, some binoculars and other kinds of gadgets a regular church goer wouldn't know how to use, hidden behind the utility shelf. And this is all according to what I heard.

This is where the custodial sleuth did his figurin' of things and wrote 'em out as they progressed. And this is important cuz some things from his secret room went missin'. A certain Christmas picture, a novel manuscript and a box of chocolates and the rock. But the button remained, cluin' him in that the thief was dumb. The fact that the button was left at the crime scene already told Triple that he or she was dumb on account of the fact of it bein' so obvious why that button was at the scene. The only question that remained in his mind (and in yours, cuz it's what everybody always wants to know) was: Does this perpetrator look as dumb as he or she is?

Astory about people you don't know (part 12) the Sheriff

"Gert did ya get him in your sights?" Jeff came runnin' round the corner, his socks slidin' him directly into Gert's bedroom doorway. Just then a shot rang out and a holler echoed out over the neighborin' woods. "Dang it, I flanked him. I had him all squared up too, he musta been movin' faster than I realized!" "Did ya get a good look at him?" he asked and began assertin' that it wasn't proper for a pastor's daughter to just shoot a guy cuz she can. He meant for her to scare him. But trespassin' laws were tightly upheld in Farlstown on account of nobody wants anybody else on their land unless they're friendly or invited. I say friendly or invited cuz sometimes you have to have family over, and that's just the way of hospitality. Not everybody's friendly but you invite 'em anyway. And how else can you gossip about 'em if you don't get the straight story over brisket and beans?

Mrs. Pastor jumped at the gunshot and ran into Gert's room tuggin' Twidge by the end of his pajama shirt sleeve which he managed to pull his arm out of. It was lickety-split how he removed his wiry body, completely escaping from his P.J.s and took off runnin' for freedom in his firetruck briefs. And he'd better run too cuz every evening his momma kept the wooden spoon in her back pocket, Queen-Esther-like, "for such a time as this."

Gert answered her dad's question and put his mind at ease right away when she explained it was the fox they'd been after, that she shot and not the perpetrator of the crime behind Habib's or any other trespasser. The thought, However, of her record-settin' rat-shootin' on the day of the murder, eased her disappointment at only flankin' the fox and she grinned at the memory. She only allowed herself as little of a grin as would be proper when talkin' about the day someone died.

But now, another fox was on the run and he was destined to lose those firetruck briefs, if history was to repeat itself, and many an evening it did. Jeff, Anna and Gert left Cindy sleepin' in her bed (cuz she was as good at sleepin' as she was at puttin' others to sleep) and they yelled a uniformly fearful "No!" and went tearin' off down the stairs after Twidge. On their way down, sure 'nough, they found 'em (the firetruck briefs) wrung around the banister with no little boy in sight (you might say, they were the better for it) only they didn't know what he'd do next so despite their fear of seein' him in the buff, they kept up their hunt. Just then a knock came at the door.

It was the sheriff. He was fat. At this time one might expect a God-fearin' congregant to pick a word that was a bit more gracious to describe an officer of the law, and normally I would, but nothin' comes to mind. Sheriff Bud was his name (Apudo G. Bud) and it fit, and there's not a lot else that did. He wore a brown shirt and brown slacks that he hiked up above his belly that circumnavigated around what would be a waist if he'd had one, on the precarious likes of sorry brown suspenders that were stretched mercilessly beyond the legal limit. He graduated to this get-up from the days when his belted pants were propped up only by his rotund overhang. But his shirts got to be so small that they created a permanent triangle of revelation improperly situated right at the navel viewing zone. Nobody cared for that, including the C.O.T.E.C. and she complained to his wife Wynona who promptly set out for the Penny's in Farls City to improve his image around town.

He came to the door to explain as to why he had to get in the house and compare a couple items in the house to some evidence found at a crime scene and ask some questions and it was "prob'ly coincidence" and you know, "just routine investigatin' but cooperatin' always says more about your innocence than guilt." That's what he had to say, that and, "Only the guilty flee when not pursued...bla bla bla...which prob'ly explains why Twidge was always runnin', etc."

Just then out the front door beyond this corpulent figure, acrosst the yard in the darkness a 3-14 was in progress (that's police talk for indecent exposure). A two foot tall, naked streak of white velocity flashed acrosst the horizon with the end of a very long stream of toilet paper gaining length behind him as he ran. Sixteen feet of it kept flight behind him, only the end of it was on fire. Twidge finally came to the end of his roll and with disappointment tossed it in the window of Sheriff Bud's vehicle. But the flame had no intention of giving up.

"Excuse me," whispered Anna politely and dismissed herself from the conversation that Sheriff Bud and Jeff were havin' in the doorway. When she was safely out of view of the sheriff, she ran like a criminal through the house and out the back only to reappear in Jeff's line of vision through the front window, with a bucket of water and a murderous look in her eye. Jeff did his best to remain calm and told the sheriff he was welcome to do what ever investigatin' he needed to do at anytime. The sheriff thanked him, kindly, went on about his last arrest and some donuts, bla bla bla...and said he'd be back in the mornin'. He never could figure out why his front seat was wet and the overall aroma of his vehicle had the lingerin' odor of smoke, but he had an inkling who was responsible.

The story changes everything

2011-09-07T09:44:00.000-05:00

God is a storyteller. There is a great big "once upon a time," a "land, far, far away" and a force of good, moving. A setting, set. The very first protagonist awoke to his undiscovered and enticing counterpart. The confines of expectations, responsibilities and hopes and all those things defied, began a developing plot. Every day for six days a masterpiece, never before or since seen, was crafted and crafted wisely. Movement of time, force, action, space and matter sang in response to a great Conductor, and thus was born the musical story of Earth and her inhabitants.

Gen. 1

At the Salazar Home

2011-09-05T03:31:00.000-05:00

Joe and Ilda Salazar understand hospitality.

They invited us over for dinner and treated us like royalty.

Ilda keeps a beautiful home and garden.

We got the grand tour. Every spare inch of her garden has something new to see.

She grows all her own vegetables and fruit.

She cooked an amazing meal for us. Everything was delicious.

The atmosphere was fun, loving, prayerful, thankful, generous and beautiful.

We sat under the grape arbor for dinner and dessert.

The evening was fantastic. Everyone should have friends like the Salazars.

They shared stories of God's blessings and grace all evening.

We praise God for them and want to learn how to be more like Jesus because of their examples to us.

Comfort in glory

2011-08-31T14:04:00.006-05:00

Nothing comforts like seeing the glory of God. No empathetic "I've been where you are going" or "I understand" consoles a hurting person in the deepest part of their need. Even saying you'll pray for someone, though helpful, can't touch what needs to be touched. A hurting believer must see the face of God. They must know that his omnipotent hand holds them; understand that his heart of love, for them, won't change. Even taking the circumstance away doesn't bring the depth of comfort that knowing and understanding God's character does. If the circumstance returns or worsens and that person hasn't begun to feel the reality of what kind of God he is dealing with, he will spiral down even farther into despair. In essence people need hope. And hope is a sham if it can't deliver. God delivers hope and delivers on that hope. All hope must be found in God's character and promises, namely that we shall live forever with a God who is love. Everything else is temporal and eventually powerless to provide lasting hope, and therefore is a sham, in comparison.

In J.C. Ryle's commentary on the book of Mark, he writes about the apostle Peter's response to Jesus' transfiguration. Ryle writes: Let us see in his fervent cry, "It is good to be here," what comfort and consolation the sight of glory can give to a true believer. Let us look forward, and try to form some idea of the pleasure which the saints shall experience, when they shall at last meet the Lord Jesus at His second coming, and meet to part no more. A vision of a few minutes was sufficient to warm and stir Peter's heart... What then shall we say, when we see our Lord appear at the last day with all His saints? What shall we say, when we ourselves are allowed to share in His glory, and join the happy company, and feel that we shall go out no more from the joy of our Lord? These are questions that no man can answer. The happiness of that great day of gathering together is one that we cannot now conceive. The feelings of which Peter had a little foretaste, will then be our's in full experience. We shall all say with one heart and one voice, when we see Christ and all His saints, "It is good to be here."

What did you say your name was?

2011-08-30T07:31:00.003-05:00

I'm sorry, Worldliness, you must have me

confused with someone who is

interested.

But you can actually quit calling now, I

don't really have time for

this.

I appreciate that you have to make a living

but it won't be off of

me.

You know, you're really rude. You keep interrupting

and that's a huge turn

off.

Hear me finish my sentence now, and let it be the

last thing you hear from me- drop

dead.

Just tired, that's all.

2011-08-29T08:10:00.003-05:00

When I get really really tired of doing good, I want to follow Jesus into every story in the Gospels, and get from him, every ounce of strength that is offered there. Remember when he sat, worn out, by the well and had the will to love a stranger? Three times in two chapters he tries to explain that he's going to die, and his closest friends don't have enough knowledge, faith or spiritual maturity to understand or even enough guts to ask him about it. He is cleaning up desperation in common people, caused by wrong teaching by men they respect. He's clearing out demonic chaos all around him. Everything is an uphill battle. The ones who are most apt to demonstrate the purest form of faith, the little ones, are rebuked for coming to Him. Jesus is tired. Jesus is burdened with the coming weight of imputed sin, on his shoulders. Jesus is so very human. He is also completely strong and everything I trust and wish I could be.

My human Savior took with him, to the cross, even the exhaustion of living a Christian life. In this, by the power of the same Spirit, I believe we can all keep from growing weary in doing good.

Don't tell me that!

2011-08-16T09:54:00.003-05:00

Don't tell me that!

I don't want that news.

I'm not listening.

I'm leaving.

Sometimes I wish I was already old,

with one foot in the ground,

If Jesus comes or if I go

thinking either way around

I'll still be gone.

I want to be just a breath away from a real place,

instead of this world of fakes, deceivers.

How long?

Don't tell me that!

My new favorite song

2011-08-15T10:53:00.001-05:00

What did you see this week?

2011-08-13T10:42:00.003-05:00

This week I saw...

This kid with the greatest, freestyle boogie going on and it made me want to be a kid.

A beautiful young woman dressed in white who should have been.

People laughing at good things.

A man smiling and loving life for no good reason.

Lost people being invited to church.

Lots of kids with blue tongues.

A very cute round-headed, bald baby girl giggling.

Twenty guys praying.

A picture of a man who will never suffer separation from God again.

One of the sweetest women I know, sitting in the sun and smiling at me.

Stroganoff, for the first time in a long time.

A husband and wife serving everyone, as usual and smiling about it.

The creative expertise of very realistic looking smart apes, of all things.

The bottom of a very large tub of popcorn that I did not expect to see.

A clean desk.

Not as much laundry as usual.

A very bright yellow bird, not alive anymore.

A picture that made me laugh.

A written conversation that disappointed me.

People I haven't seen in a long time.

Old and familiar, faithful friends.

Jordan Almonds, and I ate them.

A grown man blush.

Something new from a familiar passage of Scripture.

What did you see this week?

A great new song by Jason Gray

2011-08-10T09:48:00.002-05:00

Often, in my thinking moments, I can flash back to regrets of ways I used to be. It's not unusual for me to repeat the phrase, "I'm really sorry, Lord" for things nailed, long ago, to the cross of Christ. My I'm-sorries have no effect on my eternal position in Christ, when they reach the ears of my heavenly Father. But they are really good for me. They remind me that I am always an inch from the cliff's edge of prideful, independence of my Savior. I'm thankful for apologies and I'm thankful for a God who never depended on me cleaning myself up before he loved me. That's why I love this song.

Today or This Day?

2011-07-23T08:39:00.002-05:00

I have always thought of this verse, "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it" was so that we would be thankful every single day of our lives, knowing that the Lord has made that new day as an opportunity to praise him. I believe that's true.

But I saw this verse in a new way this morning. By looking at the verses before it and after it, I see something much more praise-inspiring. I see the gospel.

Psalm 118:

verse 22 The stone which the builders rejected Has become the chief corner stone.

verse 23: This is the Lord's doing; It is marvelous in our eyes.

verse 24: THIS is the day the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

verse 25: O Lord, do save, we beseech Thee; O Lord, we beseech Thee, do send prosperity!

verse26: Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord; We have blessed you from the house of the Lord.

We can rejoice in today as another day the Lord has made, because of "This day" the day that our rejected Savior became the chief cornerstone of our salvation for the rest of our days and forever and ever and ever.

Finding Fault

2011-07-22T08:49:00.004-05:00

Isn't it true that we want other people to know their own faults? Marriages trip on this sidewalk crack, all the time, and get all scraped up . Many a road-trip-back-seat- sibling-kerfuffle is made from this one problem. Churches drop and smash open and spill their fault-finding all over communities that are dying just to meet a God who restores and makes people whole. Why is it so important for me to tell you how bad you are?

Is it my sense of justice that is prompted by the Spirit of God, that makes me know with conviction, that as soon as you agree with me about your messed up state, the kingdom of God will be built and thousands will be saved and the name of Jesus Christ will be glorified?

More likely it is that I need to find a place to put my resentment, and you're the last person I saw before that knock-out blow landed. Maybe I forget that I have been saved by an unearned grace through a faith not created by me and somehow I find myself closer to God based on my comparative goodness up against your obvious shortcomings. Maybe I am just protecting myself from being hurt and your admission of guilt will give me a sense of security that it won't happen again. Sometimes people just want others to admit they're worse because it feels so good to be better.

So to recap the last paragraph, resentment, self-righteousness, personal offense, and arrogance often are the wolves wearing the wool of "justice".

Hearing someone say they were wrong doesn't cure me of resentment or personal injury. The hurt still happened to me. Hearing myself say, as Jesus said about me, "I love you anyway" is the only thing that can remove resentment. It comes from inside me, by the power of the Spirit of God. A person can hear they were right all day long, everyday from every person they know and still hate.

Hearing someone say they were wrong can be a bad thing. It can feed my self-righteousness and arrogance. If I demand that everyone around me agree with my rightness, in the name of justice, I am only fortifying my own kingdom of rightness. Thereby, setting my arrows against God's kingdom. There can only be one King.

The thing I forget most, in all of this, is what is really bad for me. I think that other people's sin is the worst thing that can happen to me, when really, my own sin is the worst thing that can happen to me. What they do causes surface scrapes. What I do destroys me from the inside out like a disease.

The other thing I forget, in all of this, is what is really good for me. Seeing God work is good for me. Quietly watching him point people to the truth and seeing them change and grow is good for me. It produces a sense of patience. It teaches me to stand in awe of God not me. It is also very good for me to endure wrongs and gag down that slice of humble pie. Humility, persecution, rejection and other hardships only look bad from the outside. But when responded to rightly and really learned, they produce the peaceful fruit of righteousness.

So, as it has been said before, my biggest problem is me.

Other people's faults are their problem and God's.

My faults are plenty.

I have enough to do today, just in that reality.

I better get to work.

Continuing my short story.

2011-07-12T09:45:00.002-05:00

If you haven't read the first 11 and a 1/2 parts of this story, you can find them in my archives, somewhere around October 2009. The next post will be called

"A story about people you don't know" (Part: the other half of 12)

I'll git to her soon. (picture me smiling)

Ridiculous me

2011-07-12T07:47:00.004-05:00

"Teacher, we want You to do for us whatever we ask of You." Morning came through my window with this statement. The sun rose on one of my oldest enemies. I believe I saw clearly, repented and will probably have to again of this same request, "Give me, what I want, Lord."

I have often thought without realizing it that if I give enough, am thoughtful enough, pray enough, want something enough, sacrifice enough, use my creativity enough, pour my heart into something enough, that thing will rise up and accomplish itself to perfection, and I will be blessed forever.

I have been the same way with people. If I give enough, am thoughtful enough, pray for them enough, want them to succeed enough and to see them happy, sacrifice enough for them, use my creativity to bless their lives enough, pour my heart into serving them enough, then they will value me in the end and always be grateful.

"Grant that we may sit in Your glory, one on Your right, and one on Your left." Like the other disciples, I've always felt a little indignant toward these two sons of Zebedee for being so bold as to ask for this. I've prided myself on never even considering to ask for such a thing. And I've had the same demand and expectation for myself, only sophisticated enough so as to not seem like such a blatantly arrogant jerk.

If I love people, let it be like Jesus loved me, through rejection and mocking and injury. If I teach, let it be with patience toward the ignorant and humility toward the know-it-alls. If I serve hard, let it be for the rightful owner of the throne. If I invest much of me in someone who only grows a little and never turns to thank me, or if someone owes their triumphs to my death and never mentions my name, Lord remind me that I am much more like that person than I will ever be like you.

Whatever happened to "A story about people you don't know"?

2011-07-11T09:30:00.003-05:00

Dear Readers,

Some of the fourteen of you were wondering when I'd be continuing "A story about people you don't know."

I will be continuing and finishing this short story very soon. Thank you, to all the friends who have given me such support in writing silly fictional short works for the glory of God. I'm so thankful to God for his creation of creativity, humor and the written word. I want to better myself to present him in the most magnificent ways I can, though I myself, am very limited.

While I've been away, Twidge broke into the funeral home and put lipstick on Mr. Fry. He didn't mind.

See you soon,

Amy

Racine Bible Church

2011-07-11T07:02:00.002-05:00

What a great week I had.

A friend from church invited me to use her beautiful pool anytime I want. Another friend and I were able to spend a few hours out there, talking, listening to music, enjoying the sunshine and the wonderful view, and praying together. We experienced God's perfect design of the body of Christ providing rest to others.

This weekend reminded me why I love Wisconsin, Racine Bible Church. We had our annual church picnic. It seemed like almost everyone came. The Lord gave us the perfect day. Once again, I see the faithfulness of God in building his church.

Our friends, Amy and Drew Papillon brought us a big baby boy. His name is Judah (The lineage of Christ) Andrew (after his daddy, no doubt, which has come to mean "humble" in my book) Kyrie (which is Greek for Lord) Papillon. I plan on getting my hands on Judah today. It has been the longest, short road to a baby's coming, that I have ever experienced. (see previous videos of Amy and Drew and their great faith in the Lord through their trial) God has been very very kind.

Sunday morning's worship service was filled with spiritual encouragement. The singing was so loud, from hearts rejoicing in God's goodness. God's word reminded me that I need Jesus to push aside my questions and put his hand on my deepest need.

The evening class on Spiritual gifts was so edifying for me. Many people shared so many deep things, and I was challenged. Knowing that everyone around me at church has been given a "spiritual" as a gift to be used for the good of everyone else, has made me extremely hopeful, excited for the future. The depth of the wisdom of God and his perfect plan to glorify himself through his church, continues to amaze me.

Thank you Lord for how generous you are. If I complain about what I don't have, remind me that I am the richest person on earth, In Christ.

John 4

1 Cor. 12

After surgery update for Drew and Amy

2011-06-27T18:51:00.001-05:00

Our friends in a difficult trial for Christ's glory

2011-06-18T20:58:00.001-05:00

A Second opinion

2011-06-16T13:35:00.000-05:00

The Joy of Christ in our friends' trial.

2011-06-16T09:45:00.001-05:00

Some things I've learned....check that...am still learning about being a Pastor's wife

2011-06-10T08:52:00.000-05:00

There are a few things that we, as pastor's wives must consider, and should teach other women
aspiring to be a Pastor's wife. This applies to every woman whose husband is in ministry.

1. It is a hard business, a difficult calling. Do not do it unless you are
ready to make it about others and not yourself.

2. It is a call to primarily watch God use your husband and secondarily use you.
It is a Christlike humbling of yourself to watch him succeed.
You must be willing to be behind the scenes and you must be willing to stand on
the sidelines and cheer.

3. Everything you do, wear, say, write, listen to or promote must be helpful to
a majority of believers in the church (Understand how much God loves and seeks
to protect the body of Christ) There is no room for selfishness, vanity, disregard
for the weaker brother or independence.
4. You must be willing to bend and give. Hold nothing so dear, that it cannot
be sacrificed for the good of the church. Your preferences are good and fine,
but they can not be touted as the way things should be. You must give way to
the desires of others, many times, for their growth.

5. People will judge you. Let them think what they want. Win them over with
Christ-likeness and love. Know and understand God and his love for you and
be satisfied with Him alone. Stand up confidently (not arrogantly) with genuine
love for even the meanest person in the church. Win God's smile on your life,
through humble, sacrificial obedience and don't care too much about what people think of
you.

6. Always be learning. Reading God's word. Listening to sermons. Confronting
yourself. Repenting. Admitting your faults.

7. Commune with God in deep, long, devoted prayer. Keep him as your closest
confidant. Know his love for you. Feel his presence as the realest
thing you do all day. Speak to him with humility and trust. Know that he
answers prayer. Have huge faith in His goodness.

8. Live holy. Sacrifice every friendship that drags you away from pure devotion
to him. Throw away music and movies that glorify sin. Do not value what the
world values (physical attractiveness, wealth, power, popularity, being liked,
being praised etc.)

9. Hate sin, love righteousness. Recognize Jesus as the source of all your
goodness and you as the source of all that's bad.

10. Be hard on yourself and easy on others. Listen. Sacrifice. Reach out. Don't
show favoritism. Keep your mouth shut when you feel like being annoyed. Be genuine

in your love for others. Don't think of yourself as better than they are. Never look down on anyone. Jesus loves them just as much as he loves you. Do not devalue them or think they are privileged just to gain one ounce

of your time. God could use someone that you look down on to teach you and humble you.

11. Give all glory to God.

12. Be always ready to forgive, you will have plenty of opportunity to do it.

13. When attention is drawn to you, that is the time to make it count. Be ready
to speak about God's grace and his kingdom. Don't let pride make you either shy
away, or steal the spotlight. Speak up with confidence for the glory of God. Every
opportunity to tell others how much you love Jesus, should be taken.

14. Remember your influence at home is everything to your ministry. Don't neglect your home, your husband's wants or your family's needs. Discipline your children with diligence. Love them and have fun with them, build into every quickly-passing moment, something of the grace of Christ. Do not give the
majority of your time to anything else. If your family dies, so does your husband's credibility and you dishonor the word of God. Ministry does not need to be done by you if your marriage is struggling and your kids are disobedient. Drop everything for their souls. Your husband was called to ministry and you
were called to your husband. If you were called to ministry (primarily) God would have kept you single.

A Citizen of Heaven

2011-05-30T10:58:00.003-05:00

I am a citizen of heaven and that's why I am happy also to say I am a citizen of the United States of America (or at least what she used to be). I'll tell you why. It might not be what you're expecting.

Refuge and Strength.

Greater Love.

Free Indeed.

I'll get back to that.

Here is what I am a citizen of:

America the graveyard of true meaning. We have fallen far down from our beginnings, when people ran from oppression so they could worship God. I miss oppression. I miss what it does for people. We have become vacuous and shallow, materialistic. There is not much value given to others. We are selfish, secular and concerned with the moment. We love our trashy throwaway conveniences, cheap news, cheap shots, scandal, overnight fame and fame lost overnight. Nothing stands the test of time anymore. Friendships don't. Loyalty doesn't. Respect for life of the old and very young, is waning. Youth and Pretty are the foolish and unjust rulers here. War is not the answer, because nothing is worth dying for anymore. My god is my appetite, therefore long-term commitment to anything that would get me off the couch or end my long-running streak of stockpiling really is too much of an inconvenience. Sorry, find someone else to help your women have the privilege of going to school.

But there are things I love about what our nation is quickly backsliding from:

My God is a refuge and a strength. A very present help in trouble.

America used to be this. We were a place where the desperate could come and find, shelter in a life of opportunity and religious freedom. We were the strength for thousands of persecuted Jews and a handful of European nations that did not want to be occupied by murderers.

Greater love has no one than this, that he would lay down his life for his friends.

America used to believe in this. It was a part of our culture, that you thought of others and men wanted the honor of risking life and limb to secure safety for his fellow man.

If the Son has set you free, you are free indeed.

It is the heart of God for one man to stand in another man's place and purchase freedom for him. It is now American to purchase things for himself and do what he can to prolong his own life with very little regard for others.

America was never totally Christian, I know that. And I'm not fighting for heretical mandates of prayer in schools, where unbelievers pretend to worship etc. I am saying this: Where America reflects the heart of my King, the king of the country I call home, I am an American. And today, on Memorial Day, I honor those who lived that out more perfectly than I will ever have the opportunity to do. And in doing this, I believe I honor Christ.

It is our job as Christians, now, to show America what it should have been, by pledging allegiance to our Refuge and Strength, and telling our fellow man about the Greater Love that has laid down his life for them, so that they might be free indeed.

A new home

2011-05-28T11:23:00.005-05:00

Jesus describes the Father's love for him and his love for us in this beautiful passage of Scripture. As a vine is grown up from the plant, then is wound around in the kind of twists and turns that are woven into tangles we we could never undo, so is the boundless love of God. "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love"

How precious is the Lord's love for us and he tells us it is the same as God the Father's love for him. Then he tells us to live in this love. Go ahead and make your home here, in the shelter of my love, where the vine is so strong and tightly woven, nothing can come through to harm you. It is love that goes beyond comprehension. It is God-like, divine, not human, not failing, it's heavenly and forever, perfect, more than complete because it never completes the task of loving. God's eternal nature does not permit it to end.

Yes, Lord, I believe I will abide there in your love. Thanks for the invitation.

Jn. 15

Good books this year

2011-05-25T08:56:00.003-05:00

I finally read the classic novel, Jane Eyre. It will be very difficult to find a book I love more than this one. I was persuaded by the author's purely eloquent articulation, that there are some things I should value more than I do. True inner beauty, forgiveness, humility and selflessness are among them.
This book has been a consistent comfort and challenge to me. Not one devotional out of this book has come short of straightening out my thinking for the day.

I'm reading these two books right now, The Deep Things of God by Fred Sanders and Peace Like a River by Leif Enger....just getting started, I'll let you know how they go.

Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House

2011-05-24T09:47:00.002-05:00

Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

by: Billy Collins

Create Date

Monday, January 13, 2003

Poetry, classics and other book stuff for the glory of God

2011-05-24T09:14:00.003-05:00

I know for a fact there have been tymes when I have overlooked

a tiepoh.

I haven't always spelt things rite.

I also fear that I have, misplaced, commas and abused things like....

the long awaited dot,dot,dot and, of course! the exclamation point!

Some things are not meant to be questions?

I have wetted peoples appetites rather than whetted them.

I have a growing limited understanding of great writers with each

new book I read.

But this I git, edgucation is wurth the gettin'.

Seriously, now.

God gave us a book. It is an unequaled literary masterpiece. If we learn more about words and how they can be put together. If we educate ourselves in things like poetry and the classics, we can deepen our Bible-reading experience and we can broaden our scope of influence in the world. One of those influences is writing. Good writers, I'm learning, are good readers. I want to be better at both. Another way we can influence others will come through conversation. The more we know, the more we can talk about. The wider our understanding is, of the world we live in, the better we can relate to a broader range of the population. Most of all, I want to know more of God. As I see, experience and learn, from the vast congregation of creative humanity, my eyes are opened wider to the One whose image they bear. I can give him greater glory for that.

What's been going on.

2011-05-20T15:49:00.005-05:00

It was a long, winding road to the Pacific and the same way up through these years. Warm was the wind through the windows. Real wind and the winds of opportunity were fanning our hair and blowing us into the clearing of the next great view. I only remember sunshine all around and the expanse of ocean blue, filling in the openings between desert, grassy hills and you all sunburned and smiling.

A year of quiet nights and a little wailing female changed everything to pink. We thought we'd seen the most beautiful things before, we were wrong. Not long after, came a rough and rowdy yelling, "vrooming" streak of blue. Thought we'd miss the quiet but we never ever did.

North! Heading up to higher, evergreen places taught us more about Love in new faces; new images of God.

I lost someone dear. You, my friend, comforted me and so did new friends.

Begging leave of these new friends, who were filling our home one night, we had to meet someone in a hurry. A boy had an appointment with a new name; the name of someone dear.

He had to get started right away on the dangerous business of boyhood.

Wisconsin? "Which side of one of those great lakes do you suppose it's on?" Three hundred hungry people fed us Danish Kringle 'till we had to take up running. God wanted you to feed them too, so you did. And they began to run.

Pink and Blue and Risky made everyday a smile and a sigh and a "GET DOWN FROM THERE!" A thousand prayers for only one thing, mostly, went up to heaven's ears. "Please make them something great for you, Lord." Now I hear the groans of redemption coming from within these three. When will Jesus come? Why don't people love him? Am I the only one who feels this way? Why do I keep sinning? They're becoming something for you, Lord. It isn't easy. It won't be all fun, the cross isn't. Help them bear it.

Meanwhile, You keep kissing me. I never stopped anticipating it, every night and day. The sun came up and the sun went down on anger put to rest, on selfish thoughts grown like weeds and ripped out at the roots. These smile-and-sigh-makers and hopeful-world-changers will do it all without us someday and we'll be so happy to see it. And then, I suppose, you and I will just have to make the very most of warm sand, crashing blue and white foam and of course, the sunset. I can't wait.

Some of our Pastors

2011-05-11T11:02:00.002-05:00

Living

2011-05-11T10:44:00.002-05:00

Life is pretty great with this guy.

What do you like about Jesus?

2011-05-05T20:29:00.003-05:00

Tonight we were blessed to have the Courtney family over for dinner. We had the best conversation over tacos and iced tea. We all talked about our hobbies and pets, road trips and books we've read. Spencer read 1Corinthians 13 and a poem about the creation proclaiming the glory of God. The last stanza of that poem speaks of mankind and our unique ability to worship God. It says:

But man, endowed with nobler powers,

His God in nobler strains adores;

His is the gift to know the song,

As well as sing with tuneful tongue.

And from across the table came the question of the evening. It was Saul who asked me directly, "What do you like about Jesus?" This was, to me, mankind doing what he was created to do, what rocks and hills and galaxies cannot. He can know God and frame a question that causes everyone else to worship. "What do you like about Jesus?" What a question! What if we could ask and answer that question to everyone we ever meet? Then we would be doing our job. Then we would be truly worshiping.

All I Have is Christ Animated Video

2011-05-03T17:48:00.000-05:00

All I Have is Christ Animated Video

Getting taken for granted

2011-04-26T13:29:00.005-05:00

Taking people for granted is a bad thing; being taken for granted is too, or so they say. But really, I'm not sure friendship counts until this happens. At some point, knowing that I can count on you to help me when I can't help you or thank you or I'm just on empty, means you are a friend. If I can't then, in return, be useful to you in some way without being thanked or rewarded, what kind of friend am I? Fair-weathered comes to mind.

If I am never taken for granted, my Christ-likeness is never tested. I might be Christ-like, I might not be. Should you all believe me just because I say so? It's when you find yourself the only one giving, that you are truly a giving person. When love doesn't meet your expectations but you love anyway, that is Christianity. The fierce bite of neglect or rejection is the measuring line to how deeply Christian you truly are. It could be argued that hurt is just the beginning. There is no one who can meet the expectation of my needy heart but Christ. His love fully exceeds my expectation. How do I know? I take him for granted all the time.

Mug the muggers

2011-04-21T07:50:00.003-05:00

Where do we get the motivation for service? You're tired. You're flat. How in the world can you get back to joyful usefulness when you're wasted and spent? It's like an illusive creep keeps mugging your usefulness. A few perpetrators come to the practical side of my mind and they need to be made the victims.

#1 Distraction: Temptations you purposefully indulge in. Shows and movies that have no redeeming value. Video games. Conversations that last forever but don't build anyone up and steal your valuable time. Activities that have no future heavenly value. Sins we like.

the fix: tell yourself no, get up and put godly, productive distractions right in front of your face.

#2 Spinning our wheels: Creating work for yourself where there is an easier way. Procrastination. Spending too much time on people who don't want to change and not enough on those who do. Whining, dreading the future, not planning.

the fix: Pray for wisdom and then get busy, like your house is on fire.

#3 Self-indulgence: This is where we run when our duties aren't fun. The less we accomplish, the less fun those looming tasks become with deadlines getting closer, the more we run to the fun things that waste our time. Lollygagging for no reason because it's easier than work. Slacking off, sleeping, day-dreaming about better days.

the fix: remember that fulfillment from serving God and others brings a deeper and longer lasting sense of joy. Get busy on tasks and get a sense of accomplishment in them and let that feed itself and give you more inspiration for more accomplishment. Shut off every easy thrill and instant gratification in a self-imposed fast, until you get the task done.

Here comes the spiritual side of things, which as it turns out, is the most practical of all. The most real help comes right here, because it is the ultimate fix, to the things just mentioned above.

See God's Face!

It changes everything. You know how the scripture says, when we see him we will be like him? Transformed in the twinkling of an eye, into the image of Christ, by seeing him, will be our ultimate reality. When is the last time you have done your earthly best to see his face, right here and now in your present condition? If you say, "I've tried that, I read my Bible every day, and I'm still flat," I will fly across the room and pounce on you. That's lame faith. Don't even try that with me. Put on your prosthetic feet, get up and take yourself into the throne room of God. There's nothing wrong with your eyes, get to where you can see him. All the motivation you need is there with him. Here's some of it now: Peace that passes understanding. Seriously, why are times of persecution some of my most comforting memories? Amazing things you could never do alone. How did I have the words to share with the person when I was afraid? God is both frightening and liberating. What in the world happened, that time when everyone should have been killed in that crash and they weren't? How did a near death experience transform that cocky, young football promise into modern day reformation? Ananias and Sapphira dropped dead, that's motivation. You haven't drop dead yet, that could also be called motivation.

If there is sufficient motivation, what about the power to do it? Make a list, Christian. Now's the time to access all those suppressed memories from Sunday school class. (If all these spiritually paralyzed people would quit digging up the old sins of their fathers and pull out what little they know of Noah's ark, quite a bit would be solved for them) Back to the list you're making. It will contain all the amazing things you can remember from the Bible demonstrating the power of God. You don't even have to open your Bible. Do it from memory. You're gonna need a sharpie and eighteen pieces of paper. Write one thing from your list on each piece of paper and stick them all up on the wall next to a picture of your victim, like the serial killer you are about to become. Now, map out a way to make your unbelieving distractions, wasted time and self-indulgence die at the hand of what you know about the power of God.

Here it is in a nutshell. I'm messed up, but God wants to use me. Every task worth accomplishing is too hard for me (hence the phrase, "God wants to USE me.") He's going to do the impossible with or without me. I want in. So, all that's messed up about me gets killed. I become useful. God does great things. He gets the glory. I get the joy. That joy feeds more desire to kill the uselessness. Now, ask him to do that again.

sad songs, sometimes. Rated S (Sappy content)

2011-04-19T19:33:00.005-05:00

What is it about a song, that we all seem to need, especially the sad ones? It's probably the last thing we could really use on a rainy night in early spring. The evening, when there's nothing to do but reflect, makes me think that it would be good to have someone else sing for me a few things from my past; maybe some of my disappointments. The singer is keeping me company in my memories and bearing their weight as if these memories weren't really mine, but theirs. Call me a moody girl, I can't take it. Just keep it down so I can hear Phil Collins ask, "Who will light up the darkness? Who will hold your hand? Who will find you the answers when you don't understand?" or John Mayor's cover of the Tom Petty original "Free Falling" mentioning places like Reseda (where my first apartment was) and heading west on Ventura Blvd. (where I worked at Mels) or gliding down Mulholland (I didn't mind that drive with the top down and the radio blasting) singing he's gonna "leave this world for a while." Come on, you know you have 'em. Songs are like smells, one whiff and you know you're somewhere else. For me, I end up riding the bus home, after sunset, from Zuma all sandy and sleepy. Maybe you are taking that long snowy trip home from winter camp with nothing to fear but school on Monday morning. Even the hard things about the past are better than the regular things of today, in the black and white snaps shots of sad songs. They don't spare you the reality of the sting of life, they tell it like it is. Sometimes we do watch people "walk across the road for the last time" and sometimes, for most people "there is no hope left in sight, on a starry starry night."

Are you like me? Do you like it when someone else describes how you're feeling better than you can? If you promise not to stay there too long, you should just let it play.

Phil Collins:

Throwing it all away

Can't stop loving you

Don McLean: Starry starry night

More fun out there

2011-04-19T10:08:00.004-05:00

When I was young, I knew everything. I have since learned, I don't know much. This realization has given me both regret and resolution. I'll share them with anyone who is listening.

The regrets of immaturity:

1. Thinking I was more mature than I was, which made me...

not listen

talk too much

share my opinion with too much force

assume I could see other people's faults more clearly than I really did

tell them their faults to readily

pray too little

depend on God's word too little

not seek the counsel of others who knew more than I did

2. Being too satisfied with the way I was and what I liked which made me...

prefer only one kind of music

spend time only with people I liked

not pursue knowledge to improve my mind

value youth too much

unthankful for other people's input

overly zealous for things that were too limited to my small tastes and world view

pray too little

depend on God's word too little

not seek the counsel of others who knew more than I did

Resolutions I have since, attempted to make:

Read God's word more

Commune with my Heavenly Father more

Seek out the advice of others

Listen to people, every kind of person.

Try all kinds of new things from food to adventures

Listen to every kind of music at least a little

Read all kinds of books

Spend my time looking for my own faults

Value the aged

Pray for others for a while before correcting them

Shut my mouth more

Before, all I really had was me. How boring!

The result of these resolutions has opened up my life to expansive beauty, freedom, enjoyment of all kinds of deeper and greater things, appreciation for more of God's creativity in all kinds of people, places and happenings. I have seen the face of Jesus in beggars and billionaires. Wisdom has guided me to usefulness I never thought I could know. I can hear things now, new noises and fresh sounds; the warnings of danger and the whispers of the Spirit. I know my God a little better through this wider lens. After all, He is pretty wide. I've come to learn that I can keep growing and growing until heaven, if I keep this in view. I'll have to come back and read this post when I become self-absorbed later today and forget how much more fun it is out there.

April Snow

2011-04-18T06:53:00.002-05:00

The Lord laughs at us again.

"This is for all you whiners!"

He wins the pillow fight,

and we are covered in all kinds

of white fluff from heaven.

Mr. Gets your interest and your goat

2011-04-15T20:34:00.007-05:00

There are people who others are drawn to, not because at first glance they are particularly, overly amiable (see def. 3 of this link), but there is something in them that makes you want to please them. This post is about that kind of man. He is friendly and fun. This gets your interest. He wants to get to know you. And as soon as he is able, he finds away to disagree with you in order to tease you. He isn't easy to please right away and he speaks his opinion dogmatically about things that don't really mean that much to him, just to vex anyone who might get riled up about it. In the end it's just for his own personal satisfaction. This might be part of why people try so hard to please him. Perhaps it's a challenge to see if they can. You have to know him fairly well to get whether he's kidding or not. He'll never actually reveal that he was or wasn't. It's not about that, to him, it's all done for a secret reason of his own, mostly getting your goat. In the end you find a connection with him you didn't expect. I have also seen him quietly listen while being insulted. He can be hurt. I've watched it happen and I've seen him swallow it without retaliation. Don't mistake his abrasive humor for an uncaring spirit. He loves deeply and wants God's best for everyone. He has a quick wit. He accepts and respects edgier or more difficult people. There is a sarcasm-brotherhood there. He forms his convictions internally and doesn't always announce them. This man knows what he believes. He is willing to share that with you. He isn't ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and he values most, those things that keep Jesus the main point. He is stubborn about important things. He does not talk about himself overly much. He seems just as happy to ask you questions or praise your good qualities, often in front of others, drawing them into the praise-fest (another reason why people really like him). If you gain his respect, you will have it for life. You could become one on the list of his things he dogmatically praises. But even if you end up there, he will still find something to disagree with you about, that's just how he shows love. He's a guy and there is no connection to "a feminine side." He's competitive, to be sure. He wants to win. What he lacks in sensitivity (as many men do) he makes up for in charm and genuine repentance (as many men don't). He can be jaded or pessimistic at times but that is eventually tempered by an overarching Christ-centered and eternal perspective. He looks forward to heaven and he likes dragging it into view. A conversation about something difficult or seemingly hopeless could easily end with "Yeah, but Jesus is coming soon." He loves God's word. He loves people. He will kill all kinds of time talking with anyone. He is smarter than he gives himself credit for and more gifted than he is willing to own. He claims his own sins willingly by name. He wants to grow. He grows. He learns and he teaches. Though he is admittedly ornery and tries to win at things no one else even knows are a competition, I will always be able to do something he can't. I get to call him my friend. That makes me the winner!

What I used to drive

2011-04-14T16:24:00.001-05:00

Soul Surfer

2011-04-13T12:59:00.003-05:00

I'm going to see Soul Surfer. I'm not going because I think it will be a truly evangelical movie or that I am expecting anyone to get saved, just by watching it. I will be surprised if they even talk about Jesus, by name (I'll let you know). It's just that I remember when this happened, eight years ago. I remember when this girl was attacked by a shark and it was on the news. I felt so sad for her. Then I heard someone interviewing her brother. They asked him what she was going to do in this horrible situation. He said, "She's going to tell the world about her Savior Jesus Christ." I loved that boldness.

The climb

2011-04-12T09:36:00.004-05:00

Sometimes we mistake the hard work of the climb, for God not blessing us. We forget that there is no other way to know the unchanging rock but to climb it. How could anything be easy in a place where nothing grows and everything is dying? It can't be. But it can be so sweet and so worth it.

How is it with you, Lord, tonight?

Nothing changes in this rock I've been climbing

since the day I was awakened.

But the world sure is whirling around me.

I can't remember what happened before I died,

but I woke up to you smiling at me.

How is it with you, Lord, this morning?

What are you up to? I know it's something good.

I didn't really expect to be so tripped up yesterday

I lost my footing in the attack, but like I said

last night, nothing changes in you.

I still believe that today.

How is it with you, Lord, right now?

Even though I thought it would be OK

to climb that paper mountain earlier today,

I'm back here crying out "so sorry!" I thought I

wanted that apparition of tangible taste on my tongue

I just wanted you again and didn't know it.

How are things there with you, Lord? It's really late.

Darkness and tiredness makes me sad and I regret

a lot of things. You, though...I've never regretted one

minute with you. Will that rolling boulder of all my failings crush me?

Maybe that's how I died before, yeah I think

that's it. Good. That means I'll wake up to your smile again.

Good morning Lord, How is it with you?

I see you. Thanks for letting me belong to you.

Time to climb. I'll stick around this time.

Can't wait to see what you're up to. I don't mind

this rough road so much. I like it better than regret

and sadness and how it feels when I go it alone.

Did you see me smiling at you? Yeah, I knew you did.

I think she gets it right.

2011-04-12T08:15:00.001-05:00

I learn love from others

2011-04-11T08:13:00.003-05:00

We learn how to love from other people. Some teach us how to love because they are good at loving. Others teach us how to love because they do not know how and we are made more loving in the practice of love toward them.

Christ is always the former. He is our perfect example of love. I'd like to be that loving example, someday also. Most of the time I am the latter. I give others great practice in loving me in spite of my many failed attempts to love.

Unfortunately, I believe it is through being unloved by people that the deepest lessons of love are learned, if you are led by the Spirit of God. I will learn to be more like Christ through having to love people who do not know how to love, cannot return love, have no interest in loving me or down right hate me.

For while we were his enemies Christ died for us, making us his friends. And greater love has no one, than the one who lays down his life for his friends. I'm glad he didn't wait around for me, I never would have loved him. He initiated love toward us. He demonstrated it through great sacrifice. He covered us in it. He gave us faith to believe it. He promised it, to us, forever. He sustains us in love every moment. He loves us perfectly. And he patiently teaches unloving people how to do it.

Love's value is in the one who loves: Christ's love for us. Love's value is in the object of love: Our love for Christ. He is both love and lovely.

Mrs. Gentle Trueness

2011-04-09T09:29:00.002-05:00

I met a young woman with the kind of natural beauty that is seen in how one carries herself. She had the gentleness of a sweet heart, transformed by a loving God. She had dark, thick hair and no make-up on when I met her. She was thin and put together, but never for the purpose of perfection. That's just how she was. In every conversation she was accommodating and interested. An eruption of sincere giggling would let you know if you were truly funny to her. There was genuineness in her acceptance. She was polite, dignified but never ever stiff. You wanted to know her. This was not because she drew attention to herself. Nothing about her demanded anything. I remember feeling like a loud clod around her, not because of how she was toward me, just because of how she was. She was an example of grace. She carried herself with gentleness. I admire her example in my life. Over the years she has remained a picture of steadiness and love to her family and to all her friends. There is an amazing craft to how she cares. Time, effort, work, sacrifice and creativity go into her home, especially her meals. But the meal, her effort, how it looks and tastes, though fantastic on all counts, is never the point. The point is you. The point is everyone else. There is a complete understanding that nothing is for show, it doesn't enter your mind. The acceptance and love in her demeanor make you know that nothing she does is about her. Her accomplishments are just a doorway into a place where you can find friendship. She still giggles at her husband. She triumphs over her children's victories more than if they were her own. She hugs and smiles quickly, willingly, sincerely. Her hugs are not formalities, they are genuine, they are her idea, on purpose because she wants you to know you are welcome to stay as long as you want. She lives out Jesus in ways I don't. She doesn't freak out. She doesn't fly to extremes. She regards her parents with affection that never comes from a sense of duty. She's no stranger to trials, but she never seems to be so engaged in personal struggle that she can't have a kind word for others. She is in control of herself. She handles everything with genuineness. She never makes things out to be worse than they are and she never lessens the frustration or hurt of others. There is something about her that commands your respect and I believe it is her trueness; never boasting or performing, just being. She's just being more and more like Jesus and letting that quietly convince others they should too.

The worst

2011-04-06T18:52:00.003-05:00

I ran to the grocery store to buy some snacks. It was Rylie's turn to bring them to the middle school ministry tonight. As I was walking to my car I saw a woman from our church. She lost her husband not too long ago. She said, "Hey you're alone now, aren't you?" I said, "Yeah, I'm missing Spencer right now." She said, "Yeah, now imagine that's he's never coming back."

So I did. I let myself imagine that. It's good for me to try to know how bad other people hurt.

That's all she wanted, was someone else to know how bad she hurts.

What else could she say? What else could she think? When you lose someone you love most in this life, everything reminds you of them when they're gone. Everyone's small trials seem, to the hurting one, like everyone else just won the lottery.

I should have been praying for her more.

I should never whine.

I should be thankful.

Feeling

2011-04-05T07:43:00.002-05:00

Who is holding you? Whose arms are you in? When you feel the happy rush of affection like you do when someone bear hugs you and you can't move your arms because they're doing the straight jacket on you and your feet are off the ground, whose face did you last see before you squinted to brace yourself for the welcomed intrusion? This post is about feeling loved by God.

You know how in the morning, the sun opens the lid of the horizon just a crack? You have puffy-sleepy face. You head for round two of whatever you just drank but you can't remember ever getting the cup off the shelf. You're about to get mugged in a different way (yes that was a pun) by someone who wants to be the center of your attention. He's going to wash over darker, earlier thoughts in the warm sunlight of new and better things, stuff about Him, meant for you.

The book of love and hope, the letter that fixes everything, the giant living embrace, is in my hands. For some reason, today, not sure what's so special about today, every sentence I read seems like love to me. "And God said, 'Let there be light', and there was light." "Also Ruth the Moabite, the widow of Mahlon, I have bought to be my wife." "Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might." "Therefore, be imitators of God, as beloved children." "Slaves, obey your earthly masters." "But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ." "See with what large letters I am writing to you with my own hand." "For freedom Christ has set us free." "You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth?" "Brothers, if anyone is caught in a transgression..." "I give a human example, brothers." "O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?"

The honest pages steal the sting from life. The severity of life, the losses and groanings of our souls find true relationship here. There is no cloudy nightfall left, of faking all is well, but rather a strong assurance that hope comes in the morning. There's a place to put my sin. It tells me how to be the best slave, by looking past my earthly master to a kinder one. I won't stop crying or tossing at night, no doubt, but there is one who keeps track of that and he has a way to remember me. I'm fought for. I'm bought. I'm not left to myself, to wreck me. I'm useful. I'm held. Someone is interested in me. Someone wants me. Someone runs to squeeze me, every morning.

God's coming for me again this morning. That embrace feels really good. So, I get myself up and brace myself for the coming impact. I won't be disappointed. I get to do this every single day for forever. (Insert picture of sleepy-faced, messy-headed, unmatched pajama'd, big-smiled girl)

Gen

Ruth

Gal

Eph

That's what it says, Rejoice always.

2011-04-02T09:47:00.004-05:00

Gratitude is something a recipient has. I am thankful when I receive something. I give my gratitude back as a gift. I don't give it to the gift, I give it to the giver.

The next time the giver doesn't give me something, he or she is still the one who gave before. If I become ungrateful, that means I gave my gratitude to the gift, last time, not the giver.

A thankful spirit isn't something we have because we keep on getting. Sometimes we don't keep on getting. Gratitude is something we have because the giver is still the giver whether we get more or not.

Here's the funny part about all this. We do keep getting. We get and we get and we get. God is so generous with us. I will get from the giver today. And I might miss it and forget to give him my thanks. He is still the giver.

If I die today, I think I will have been more blessed than many people. I have been given so much that I lost track of some of it, could never thank the giver for all of it. He, of course, is still the giver.

If the giver takes from me, as from Job, all that I possess and all whom I love in this life, he is the taker. There's no question about that. God is a taker. But he is still the giver, is he not? He gave, therefore he has once and for all been labelled a giver.

What about the undeserving? Well, in my opinion, only the undeserving get gifts. When someone earns something we call that a reward. There is not the same sense of gratitude to the giver of a reward, for he is only doing what is expected. Gratitude dies when gifts are demanded or expected.

The biggest giver of all, gives that which costs him something, and it might be said that person is the most grateful person on earth. They are so satisfied with life, that they can sacrifice greatly and not be damaged traumatically.

God, the giver, being satisfied in himself as God and in need of nothing, shares gratitude within the God-head. He sees a need that can only be met by extreme sacrifice and sets in motion a plan that will earn him gratitude for all eternity as the Biggest Giver.

In giving his Son, to save us, he purchased us as a gift. The Father bought us, undeserving as we were, made us clean and gives us to his Son to worship him forever and ever and ever.

Our gratitude is tied to the very character of God. When his character changes, we are allowed to be ungrateful to him. It could be said that our gratitude is the purpose of the cross and should be the continual flame that wooden instrument fuels now and forever.

Just as God, once giving the greatest gift, will always be the biggest giver. We should be, as the undeserving, needy recipients, the most and forever grateful ones.

Phil 4:4

1 Thes. 5:16

A message to myself

2011-04-01T07:21:00.003-05:00

The time has come for me to reference a saying handed down to me from my mom.

"You do not have the luxury of a breakdown."

You can't flip out.

You really do have to make use of those "every spiritual blessings" that Christ has given you.

Yes, Amy, you really are expected to be patient when you don't feel like it.

No, you cannot look to others to make you feel good, loved, accepted, comfortable.

Every day is a new challenge in the lengthening of your fuse, set the record.

Irritability is fleshly and proud.

Selfish feelings must be shot down the second you hear their footsteps creeping up.

Demands and expectations of others, for your happiness, amount to idolatry. IDOLATRY!

The fortitude and reliability of a wife, mom, daughter, sister and friend in whatever capacity God the Almighty requires of you is your responsibility. Do not shirk it.

You will love in all these ways and repent when you don't:

Patience,

Kindness,

You will not brag,

You will not be jealous,

You will not have a high view of yourself,

You will not lash out, demand your rights or tell people off,

You will be happy for others to get their way, and sacrifice to make that happen,

You will not snap when you're tired,

You will not resent others for anything, they do not exist for your fulfillment,

You will believe the very best about everyone in your life and attribute right motives to them,

You will be hopeful, thankful and optimistic,

Preach the Gospel to yourself, see your need and set your feet right.

Bask in the love of God and be deeply satisfied and warmly grateful.

Keep your eyes on heaven, not on this fading life.

You will make it to the end, by the power of the Holy Spirit living in you.

You will apologize.........again.

May God give me victory in this. May I be a blessing to everyone who knows me. Pray for me.

Eph 1

1Cor 13

Mr. Someone-worth-knowing

2011-03-31T14:30:00.001-05:00

I know a sixteen year old guy who had two jobs, bought his own truck and paid for his own auto insurance. But he never skipped out on church to do it. He played tennis, football and got good grades. He had friends in every crowd. Someone I looked up to said, "That guy has the perfect speaking voice." He was articulate and interesting. He had a knack for saying the unexpected. His humor was a drawing-in kind of teasing that never had a sting. If you had never laughed at yourself before, he could make you do it. His charm was never false because it was directly connected to a sincere kindness to everyone who ever met him. He didn't hand out his deepest thoughts to everyone, but no one ever felt excluded. A master at conversation. A master at silence. Wise beyond his age. In later years, I was told, he would be in groups or meetings where many loud and opinionated people would argue. He would sit and observe. Finally, toward the end, when everyone had repeated their points, rehashed all the objectives and exhausted their ideas, someone would say, "Hey, so-in-so, what do you think?" It was then they realized they should have asked him sooner. With grace and wisdom he would lay out the best idea of the day, biblical, sensible and helpful. I have yet to meet someone with his humility, genuinely alright with being insulted, noncompetitive and has nothing to prove. Many an injury has he absorbed with silent grace. A story is told about this man, that someone, seeking to defend him said something mean about his accuser. He rebuked that defense as not being helpful in resolving the situation or creating love for his enemy. He's not the type to seethe or sweat over personal hurts. He respects the aged. He really likes children. He looks for the best in people. He listens. He learns. He teaches. He is thoughtful, considerate and appropriate. He loves. Full faith in the God he spends his days knowing, makes him secure and fearless. Never lazy, often serving, not complaining, in these he powerfully leads. He never acts annoyed at be taught something he already knows. He is discerning to rarely teach that which others already know. He is gentle. He shares his own opinion, but is never offended if you disagree. When he speaks the word of God, it is with authority. His claim to manhood is deserved in every respect. He'd be a good one to get to know, so I'm told.

Pray right

2011-03-31T11:02:00.002-05:00

I don't usually click on videos I think will be corny, but I think this song's message is true. I can identify with it. (turn off my playlist)

The hard ways of God

2011-03-31T09:11:00.002-05:00

Hell isn't the only hard thing. There are many things about God that aren't easy. If you don't know that yet, and you are a true believer, you will find out. If you never come to grips with this thought, life will be hard. The more you understand, believe and worship the hard ways of God, the easier life will be for you.

I read this morning in my Bible that there were a people who cried on their beds, they wailed and even gashed themselves because they couldn't have wine and grain. God said their problem was they didn't cry to him. They returned, but not upward. That was in Hosea.

Leviticus chapter 13 is all about what kind of disease qualifies a person to be exiled to a remote place outside the camp forever. You have to live alone now. If you are ever coming near the camp for any reason you must shout out a warning "unclean!" so that people can run from you in disgust. That's hard. God commanded it.

The book of Proverbs is filled with hard advice. Hold your temper. Keep your opinion to yourself. There is no hope for a fool. Go against your selfish desires to ignore people. Return good for evil. Work hard. Don't go with your first desire. Appreciate dry morsels over feasting. Call the man who confronts you, your best friend. Love people at all times or be considered a bad friend. Don't sleep so much. Listen to instruction and keep your mouth shut, even if you know it already. Do not love pleasure.

Then I read the last sentence of the book of Ephesians. "Grace be with all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with love incorruptible." That's the answer. It's not that we never cry. It's that we cry upward. No one promised us a grace-filled life, outside of the incorruptible love of Jesus.

But here's the thing about the incorruptible love of Jesus. I have it all over me. His love toward me is incorruptible, to be certain. But I do not have it for other people yet. He will not stop working on me until I do. That is hard. Because, in order to have this incorruptible love for others, that Jesus has for me I must learn to die. This is not a dying by force. This is learning to willingly lay down my life, as an act of love, daily for others.

Why is that hard? No one will know you're doing it. It's keeping your mouth shut. It's giving when you feel like taking. It's praying for someone who will never know. It's not being loved in return. It's being willing to live as the only one you know who does it. Love incorruptible leaves all I want for me, on the doorstep of someone else without a return label. The process of learning this hurts.

In the end, though, the dry bread, the diseased loneliness, the hard work, the weeping, all this momentary light affliction is not hell, that's just life on this planet. My Jesus understands these things from experience. He bled and died for an ungrateful race of rebellious enemies. That is hard. Knowing, believing and worshiping the hard ways of God is eternal life to me.

Authentic friendship

2011-03-31T03:02:00.002-05:00

A short poem about regret

There's nothing like a true friend,

with you through thick and thin.

You've been through thick and thin,

I've been nothing like a true friend.

A friend loves at all times,

and a brother is born for adversity.

Proverbs 17:17

Lord You are Beautiful

2011-03-28T18:43:00.002-05:00

The song my heart is singing right now

Oh Lord, You're beautiful

your face is all I seek

For when your eyes are on this child

your love (grace) abounds to me

I want to take your word and shine it all around.

But first help me just to live it Lord.

And when I'm doing well, help me to never seek a crown.

For my reward is giving glory to you.

Oh Lord, please light the fire

that once burned bright and clear

replace the lamp of my first love

that's fueled with holy fear

Verses I never heard before:

Oh Lord, my body's tired

But you keep reminding me

of many holy, tireless men

who spilled their blood for Thee

Oh my faith is small

and I need a touch from you

your book of books lies undisturbed

and the prayers from me too few.

Isaiah 40

2011-03-28T08:14:00.000-05:00

Authentic repentance, my truest friend.

2011-03-25T10:25:00.005-05:00