Happy Thanksgiving!

This is Martha. Her face still haunts me and at the same time encourages me. You can see in the background the starkness and desolation of the landscape on which she has lived her life on the Navajo reservation in northwest New Mexico. Most of her life has been in hopelessness, living in the same house for 41 years with no electricity or running water, she has raised twelve children and has 23 grandchildren. I was blessed to be a part of a group that built a house for Martha. As the weather gets cooler I think about her new life with electricity and indoor bathroom. For the first day and a half we worked outside her home, she did not come out. But our kids prayed that her heart would be opened and she would come speak with us. Over the course of a week she did come and speak to us on a couple of occasions and even baked Navajo flat bread for us. In this photo she is standing in front of one of her windows - looking to the mountains of the south - a symbol of purity and hope. The Navajo believe that one must be able to see out of all four directions from the home in order that prayers may get out. She was greatly distressed that we did not provide for a window to the north - where her prayers against evil could leave her house and be banned to the dark mountains of the north. When we found this out, the kids took up a collection to buy another window and we put in the window she so desired.

On Wednesday evening, we worshipped with the Fellowship of Brothers of the Navajo nation and listened to the word from an Apache preacher (which in itself was a miracle). Brother George told us that we were like the friends of the man in John 5 beside the pool of Bethseda who for years lay beside the pool, frustrated that he had no friends to pick him up and place him into the healing waters of the pool. Brother George told us that's who we were to Martha. She had prayed for 29 years that GOD would send someone to build her a house, because she had no friends or resources. What a beautiful concept!

Martha and her daughter made Navajo bread and ate with us one day. I felt I was in communion - a holy Eucharist. Martha is only two years older than me. Now when I look into those eyes - I see a friend looking at me in true thanksgiving... a friend who is tired ... but so full of joy that her eyes exude praise! Praise for a GOD that answers prayers to bring friends to help her into the healing waters!

I look forward to seeing my friend Martha again ... probably not in this world! Until then ... I can enjoy this photo with two of her grandchildren.

Happy Thanksgiving Martha!

Freedom

It is for freedom that we have been set free, says the apostle Paul. This has been heavy on my heart these past days. As I've watched a color guard at a high school football game or listened to the national anthem or GOD bless America during the world series, I've been reminded of the numerous young men that I've known personally who have sacrificed their life in foreign soil surrounded by unfamiliar people and customs.

Two weeks ago a friend spent four days in a Mexican jail and was miraculously released ... he can talk about freedom!

Last weekend we drove to Bryan, Texas to visit a lifelong friend who is serving thirty months in a federal prison camp [I typed out the number because it takes longer and helps me remember how long that really is] While conditions may be better in a minimal security unit, one's freedom is taken away. There is no choice in what's for dinner, no choice in when to rise or rest, no choice in what to wear, no choice to just walk outside to enjoy the sunshine or to return inside because it's too cold. The freedom to hug another person or to lay a comforting hand on a hurting friend have been taken away.

Upon our return I realized that I have the freedom to get in a car and drive where ever I want. Karen and I decided on a light dinner of fruit and cheese and as I experienced the various flavors of grapes, pears, apple, and different cheeses - I realized just how special those simple moments are.

Perhaps it is appropriate during this Thanksgiving season that these blessings of freedom well up within me to remind me that we drink from wells that we have not dug. We walk on paths that have been cleared and smoothed by those who have walked before us. The peace that we share was bought at a premium price. The grace and the joy in which we live was at the cost of freedom that one gave up ... willingly laying down his life ... so that I might have freedom from those things that hold us captive in a world that does not know freedom.

I am thankful.

On Sunday afternoon I had the distinct honor of conferring a blessing on one month old Jagger Leon Flores. He is the son of Rachel Sosa and Justin Flores. This was only about a fifteen minute ceremony, if all the introductions and goodbyes were included. But it was the highlight of my day and the most important part of the day for the entire Sosa and Flores families. Grandparents were there! All the sisters were there! Friends from Frisco drove in ... just for the moment and returned as soon as it was over. The words that were said were recorded on paper, but otherwise lost to time. They were included in and overshadowed by the words carved into the rocks that comprise the foundational support of Jacob's Dream. "I will always be with thee" "truth" "rock of ages" surround the baptismal pool beside the spot where we stood. I explained to the family that this was in my opinion "a thin place" - a place where the Celts and the Scots felt that GOD comes near. Indeed on Sunday afternoon, GOD came near to a family that is broken and assaulted on so many fronts to bring peace and purpose through a small child. Reminds me of Christmas.

Priceless~

Feeding the horses ...

I didn't know whether to title this 'feeding the horses' or just 'the simple things' ... because it is often in the simple mundane things of this life that some of the profound truths lie. One of my friends asked me if I'd like to go in with him and buy a trailer of round bales of coastal to set back for the winter. It's tempting, because walking out to the barn in the early morning darkness in whatever the weather throws is drudgery. When the girls were younger, it was their chore. Some of my fondest memories are of them in flannel pajamas, boots, and a barn coat. Like so many things, it is a two edged sword. I think every morning I am reminded that I spend more on hay for those two horses than I do to support an orphan(age) in India. Yes, there is some guilt in that, but they are an obligation we committed to fifteen years ago. We will see them through. But those two horses have provided much pleasure and fulfillment to this family and to many others. Every morning I go out to the barn, they are waiting for me - and are glad to see me. Most mornings they jockey for position to see who gets to nuzzle me first. I'm reminded that when you are hungry and lonesome, people are glad to see you too. Jesus told Peter three times, "If you love me, feed my sheep." Yes, it is an inconvenience - and those phone calls come in all sorts of weather and it is usually an inconvenience to my schedule, but folks are hungry; and they're lonely; and they're usually glad to see me. We tend to complicate life. But it is in those early morning trips to the barn that the cold north wind and the impending light of the sunrise remind me that I too am hungry, but I'm not alone. Thank you Ace and Fancy.

in consideration of Polaris

As I walk out every morning to get the paper, I hear the rooster across the street and wonder "Have I denied the Lord yet today?". That's a whole 'nother story. As I pause at the end of the sidewalk I almost always take 'a bearing' on Orion's belt and the North Star. I pause and think about our perception of stars - pinpoints of light in a universe of blackness that supports little beyond light itself. These interruptions in the darkness are an infinite combination of light years away from 'us'. I used to view stars as if the night sky was a huge black tarp and someone had randomly stuck a pin through millions of times. But in reality each pinpoint of light is typically larger than our own sun, capable of having its own set of planets in orbit around it and yet all we see is a small point of light! If one considers that the view from each 'planet' somewhere in universe is infinitely different, the night sky would be totally different as well. So, from our perspective, the constellations are extremely unique. The stars do not [do not] line up in a convenient pattern. The stars in Ursa Major, aka 'the Big Dipper' are light years apart from each other and have no relationship whatsoever. They are also random stars - scattered across the Milky Way that from our perspective just happen to "line up" to form the Big Dipper. Totally random! And yet ... from our perspective the one star at the end of the handle is the center point of our sky ... around which all things circumnavigate the sky! WOW! Who could have thought of such a concept? A guiding light in the night that has guided man in the darkness of the oceans for thousands of years! "Who is man that you are mindful of him?" said Job.

...been a long time

It seems a lifetime since I took time to visit here. This morning when I awoke at 4:15 AM ... I wondered "Why". Other than the nasal congestion from allergies, my head was full of thoughts - anticipating the day and what it would bring in certain circumstances. Wondering how and in what words I would speak to a man this afternoon who walked away from his family three weeks ago. Wondering how I will be able to face my old friend, Mehmet, whom I've not had contact with in months - who is pretty much bedridden and always at home. No excuses...no reason to delay any longer! Wondering just how and when I would start scraping the "popcorn" texture from the ceiling in the hallway and how I would best paint the hall wainscoat and begin replacing the carpet. Wondering about digging up the septic tanks in the back and replacing with sewer line, which would then lead to completely redoing the landscape in the back yard, which would require that I first tear down and replace the pool house. ... just one of those mornings! So I decided to get up ... realizing that I could accomplish none of this from my bed and besides - I wanted a cup of coffee.

I reminded someone yesterday that GOD has promised that he would never give us more than we could endure. I'm reminding myself that most of these issues that occupy my mind are not kingdom issues. So, I've decided to prioritize in terms of kingdom issues - actually ... a decision I made long ago. Occasionally I need to be reminded. So once again I'm reminded of the wisdom from the trail. Never anticipate where the trail may lead, how much longer it will be so vertical and gain so much elevation so quickly. Never attempt to visualize what it will look like around the next switchback. Just take it one step at a time ... even though it may be extremely rocky ... it IS a trail ... and someone has come before me. Enjoy the moment. Look around and find the wildflowers or the beauty in a small mushroom patch. Just stay on the trail. Or as Emerson said, "go where no one has gone before and leave a trail". Our path is not of this world and yet, it is in this world. I must simply take a step in faith throughout each day and trust that the Lord is beside me, but I've got to keep walking. So I guess I'll spend my life ... hiking for Jesus! Don't anticipate ... just participate!

Morning sky

This morning I sat out behind the house in the dark of the morning and watched and listened as the day prepared itself. I hear the rooster crow every morning and every morning I think of Peter and his apocalyptic rooster... a gentle reminder. But what struck me this morning was that as I gazed at the darkness of the sky that still has not begun to change to morning light, I'm able to see soooooo many stars ... and yet I know I'm only seeing the tip of the celestial iceberg. Ancient legend told that there was a vast darkness surrounding us and that those points of light were distant 'holes' through which flowed the light of heaven. I like that analogy, but know better from an astronomical perspective. But as I gazed out into the darkness this morning, I thought ... there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on all the beaches of this earth. "What is man, that you are mindful of him?" said Job. And I thought that my perspective would be somewhat similar to an observation post from 35,000 feet deep - buried under the darkness of the Mariana Trench in the Pacific Ocean - and looking up into absolute darkness and wondering about the magnitude of the oceans - and somehow I make a difference to the one who conceived it all! I'll have a better day.

Dirty Jobs

Dirty Jobs: Somebody’s gotta do it!
Peter & the disciples ( Luke 5:1-11; Luke 9:1-6; Acts 10:1 – 11:18 )
God often gives his people some challenging, difficult, and even dangerous tasks as he works out His purposes in this world. In scripture, we can see how GOD called, equipped, and empowered men and women for “dirty jobs” throughout biblical history. We also see how he sustained them through his powerful presence. In our lives together, building for the kingdom – we need to know that we may be called upon to do dirty jobs, and we benefit from the examples of faithful servants – both past and present.
Dirty Jobs, the new Discovery Channel series that profiles the unsung American laborers who make their living in the most unthinkable — yet vital — ways. Our brave host and apprentice Mike Rowe will introduce you to a hardworking group of men and women who overcome fear, danger and sometimes stench and overall ‘ickiness’ to accomplish their daily tasks … Diaper cleaner; spider venom milker; exotic animal cleaner; salmon carcass counter; septic tank maintenance technician; animal renderer; dung beetle breeder; and the list goes on… average folks tackling extraordinary tasks that simply must get done.
I would suggest that to follow David Lang’s introduction to this series is in itself “a dirty job”. Last week David had some of us relate our own experiences in dirty jobs and I think that Jerry Love won the prize. David last week made reference to Noah as having one of the dirtiest jobs in building the ark and following up with the whole repopulating the earth thing. However, I think the ‘dirtiest job’ title should go to Japheth. I would suggest that he was the youngest (Shem, Ham, and Japheth) and that he drew the short stick to muck the animal stalls and be in charge of the compost pile. That had to be a dirty job. This week our story revolves around the apostle we know as Peter – a commercial fisherman from the Sea of Galilee – a man who was himself – “a dirty job”! I don’t know why I am so attracted to the television series “Deadliest Catch” except that it probably brings back to mind my own experiences as a commercial fisherman.
Here I relate story of my personal experiences in commercial fishing venture … on Saturdays and when we didn’t have a baseball game during the summer, I’d meet my friends (who were also ten) and we’d spend the day catching small perch from Cedar Creek in Will Hair Park at the ‘ups and downs’ so we could sell them to the bait house for 2-3 cents apiece! Sometimes earning as much as 60 cents! We withstood - the heat of summer; swarms of mosquitoes; red ants; slippery banks of the creek; the treacherous balance of walking the sewer line over the creek; falling in; fishing downstream from Gooch’s packing plant; fish hooks through the fingers, riding your bicycle while balancing a bucket and a fishing pole with a pocket full of bacon – all combine to make this a ‘dirty job’!
If you’ve ever watched the crews of the Time Bandit, the Wizard, the Kodiak, or the Cornelia Marie as they fish for Alaska King Crab in the frigid waters of the Bering Sea – you begin to understand something of the the rigors of a commercial fisherman… hard, demanding work, wet, stinky, slippery, cold, dangerous, constantly drenched in freezing water, continuing to fish – even through the night – exposed to the elements; cold! - hours on end – working beyond exhaustion – often bringing little onto the ship – and then there’s Captain Phil Harris – the ominous captain of the Cornelia Marie – scarred face, hands gnarled from years of fishing, as rough and tough a character as one could imagine from the crew of the Pirates of the Caribbean… I’m reminded of Peter.
Peter was probably a ‘larger-than-life figure for the churches of the first century. The gospels were initially written to Christians who already knew who Jesus was – and many would already know who Peter was (some even personally). I would imagine that the stories about Peter filled in and fleshed out the details to their personal knowledge of the disciple – and would give them hope and encouragement for their own journeys of faith… just as it does for us. Recounting how a legendary disciple got his start, how he repeatedly stumbled and then stood up again, how he loved and was loved – it is inspiring for all disciples.
Luke 5:1-11 - the calling of Peter
Commercial fishing is a dirty business (not crooked – just filthy). Physically demanding, lots of laborious upkeep on the boat and the equipment, there’s not always an equivalent relationship between the amount of work and the enjoyment of the results. All this to say that when the rabbi – who was a carpenter and not a fisherman – asks the professional to go out fishing again after a long night of nothing to show for it, you might expect Peter to tell Jesus to take a long walk on a short pier. But Peter’s first dirty job is to take the “newbie” out fishing when he already knew the fish were not biting [and typically they fished at night, because this was probably a fish known as ‘musht’ that feed in shoals and are closer to the surface at night because they are feeding and during the day they are deeper and not accessible by the nets of the Galilean fishermen!] Well – Peter speaks up to “re-frame Jesus’ expectations” but he is obedient!
Then… Shazam! So many fish that he has to call in the other boat and the boat is filled! Almost to the point of sinking! And as David pointed out - Peter falls to Jesus’ knees [usually we hear of someone falling at Jesus’ feet, but in this case the knees was as far as Peter could go, because they were knee-deep in fish!] “Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!” Peter considers himself to be a dirty job for Jesus?
Perhaps this is an appropriate time to remind ourselves of the ways in which the Lord “called” Peter. In relating this story, Peter is referred to as Simon … an extremely common name. In fact there are references to at least seven Simons in the gospels alone. Among the twelve, two were named Simon – Simon Peter and Simon the Zealot. But Luke tells us in Luke 6:14 that the Lord gave him another name… “Simon, who he also named Peter.” Peter was actually a nickname, a derivation of the Greed word for “rock” – in Aramaic, he was called Cephas. This was not an “instead” name – it was a “both/and” name. He was called Simon … Peter … and Simon Peter.
When he was brash, undependable, vacillating and impetuous, reverting back to his previous self - the Lord called him Simon – symbolic of the “old” Simon who was not yet fully transformed into the rock upon which the Lord would build his church. When Tommy Lasorda was manager for the Los Angeles Dodgers, he had a young pitcher who consistently threw an accurate fastball, but was timid and lacked self confidence, so Lasorda began to call him “Bulldog” – something he was not! But the more he referred to him as “Bulldog” the more he began to believe it, breaking Don Drysdale’s record for most consecutive shutout innings and becoming one of the greatest pitchers in the 1980’s – you might remember him as Orel Hershiser. He said when Lasorda called him “Bulldog” it reminded him of who he ought to be. So when Jesus tells Simon in his first introduction described in John 1:42 that “You are Simon, son of Jonah – you shall be called Cephas.” That is who Jesus wanted him to become.
Yes, I think Simon considered himself to be a “dirty job” for Jesus. How do we consider ourselves dirty, untouchable … often we are led to consider that we have become such a dirty job that he could not love, could not abide, or could not use us? We are reminded in Revelation 3 that we have been given a new name … perhaps one that reminds us of who we could become…are becoming … for our Lord.
So yes, Peter fall to Jesus’ knees and declares, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” Jesus calls and commissions Peter, along with the other disciples: “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” This is a high calling to be sure – but I suggest it is also a ‘dirty job’. Rather than Mark and Matthew’s phrase that we are accustomed to - “fishers of men” – Luke uses a Greek word that actually means to “capture alive”!!!
So how can it be a dirty job to tell / share / live the gospel? What do you think?

scars

I write this morning to remind myself ... of something I learned in conversations this weekend. Perhaps it is one of those lessons I already knew, but was reminded in a different context. The lesson is more important than the setting of the conversation. Often in this life we find ourselves deeply wounded and it is often tempting to simply return to what we were doing before (it happened). This sometimes occurs when someone is in a position of leadership and wants to quickly return to full capacity after a deep hurt. GOD needs to have us take a time of healing before we return to the arena. Eventually the healing will occur and scars will form where the wounds were. GOD could have raised Jesus from the grave - even before he was placed there. It wasn't like he needed three days to get it all together! But instead, he did allow three days to pass ... a brief time from some perspective ... but an eternity for the son who had never been separated from the Father. When Jesus did reappear to his disciples, there were no open wounds - still bleeding and oozing. There were scars. Even Thomas was made to touch the scars! The healing had taken place and Jesus was back - ready to assume his ministry again.
It is both inappropriate and ineffective for us to attempt to return to the world of 'business as usual' after a deep wound has invaded our life. We need to wait a season; allow GOD his time to heal those wounds so that others may see the scars from the healing. It's a lot less messy that way also.

serendipity?

The beginnings of a new school year are always marked with new challenges and the whims and whinings of a new administrator or a new superintendent or a new process or practice that is going to "change the world as we know it". That is the expectation and attraction to teaching - that each year one is provided the opportunity to do things differently, start over, reinvent the wheel, etc. But this year has been different. The preparation for and the start of a new school year have been beyond challenge...beyond the typical ... and it has been extremely frustrating ... the kids are getting the brunt of it. The frustration is not mine alone - most of our teachers are caught up in the maelstrom of autocratic change that often seems to exist simply to change. The pendulum will always swing - but we seem to be caught in a swing so abrupt we are suffering from whiplash. Perhaps this is following on the heals of our national pendulum swing in government intervention and control and simply complicates things. Then there is the "other stuff" ... two colleagues have shared personal family crisis with me in the past week - another friend shared her daughter's promiscuity and self destructive behavior - still another is about to lose their job and their spouse just underwent surgery that will take weeks to rehab. and this all in the past two days... and then the letter came! Actually it was a global mailing from Ransomed Heart - the ministry of John Eldridge, but it seemed as if he had written it directly to me. He recounted almost the same story I've just outlined. He said he had been reminded of the line from Thomas Paine, "These are the times that try men's souls." Yes, I'd also thought of that line. When he prayed about his frustration and the hopelessness that surrounds us in a world that is so broken, he said his response was simply - "Union with me ..." Well I was already there, but perhaps needed a reminder. Yesterday morning I read from Galations and Paul continually reminds us to put our trust in the Lord ... grace and mercy. Grace and mercy! Yes, it is enough! I have greatly summarized both a two page letter and the letter of Paul to those in Galatia, but what a serendipity to have those two letters come on the same day. I wonder if John actually sent that letter to thousands of other men or if I was the only one? There are no serendipities in Jesus - I'm convinced that he provides enough grace and mercy at just the right times to save our lives from the pool of hopelessness in which we often swim and to empower us to rescue others. Grace and mercy ... serendipity?

It has been over three months since I posted an entry here. I don't know why ... really. Why I've chosen today to return...? One of the advantages of teaching school is that each year one has opportunity to start afresh ... new beginnings... and the return to good habits and more predictable rhythms. I just went back and read my last entry, following a thunderstorm - again one of my most fulfilling enjoyments. I was fortunate enough three weeks ago to walk through a section of the Continental Divide from Thirty Mile Campground to Squaw Lake with my daughter, my son, and soon-to-be daughter in law. The first night we spent three and a half hours in a thunderstorm - in the safety of shelter. We also had our opportunities to walk in the rain, but for the most part the rain was timely ... allowing us time to put up our tents and put on our rain gear. There is something awesome and sobering about being in a thunderstorm above treeline. It's as if you could reach out and touch the Almighty himself, but also fearful that He might touch you.

Such is life ... we are often [too often] lulled into the mundane of day to day living ... failing to recognize that we are in a thunderstorm - every day. I pray that I would realize the nearness of the clouds and acknowledge the showers of blessings each day ... the nearness of GOD ... and not be fearful that He might touch me ... and I would be changed forever. Thank you Father for the thunderstorms ... for the nearness of your touch ... for the cleansing of your showers. Please bring the rain. Please bring your reign.

...and the thunder rolled!

I awakened to thunder this morning and since it's Friday and I did not have the usual 'stuff' to do before I left for work, I laid in bed for just a few more minutes and remembered some of the dozens of mornings I've awakened to the roar of thunder coming from outside my tent. I recalled the many times I've gotten caught outside in a wilderness environment with an impending thunderstorm... lightning, hail, wind, flooded stream crossings. This particular photo was taken in Ontario on an early autumn fishing trip...where blue skies changed to angry clouds in a matter of ten minutes. No, we did not get back to camp before it hit.

Yesterday my classes were watching a Discovery video about the evolution of early man and it depicted a group of early hominids dancing in the rain. The narrative said that gorillas are the only modern primate to do such. I beg to differ. No I hate being cold and wet, but then I love the opportunity to dry around the warmth of a fire or dive into the shelter of a small tent that is being assaulted by wind and hail. There is an awesome power observed and absorbed from watching a developing thunderstorm from the shelter of a seventy foot pine or from the exposure of a high altitude plateau.

Whatever the situation, I've found that good planning and good rain gear go hand in hand. I remember in earlier years some times when neither of those factors came into play. I also recall the resolve to 'never place myself in those circumstances again'. Live and learn.

Well there is great analogy in all of this. Life also has its thunderstorms ... and in retrospect, they are usually welcome. Although disruptive, they quench the drought and provide water for future use. Often destructive, they offer the glimpse of power behind the storm ... that same power that provides new life after the storm has passed. And yes, looking outside now - the storm has passed ... there is still the rolling of distant thunder as if GOD is looking over his shoulder to say, "Well, what did you think about that one?!!"

The robins are singing as they are already harvesting flooded earthworms.

Thank you Father.

"Thy kingdom come ...

I suppose if I were studying the Lord's prayer I would start at the beginning, but I'm not ... so I won't. I have recited this prayer for over fifty years now. At first it was a short cut - if I felt the need to prayer, I could do it almost without thinking. As with anything repetitive, it begins to take effect and have influence. For at least the past fifteen years, reciting this prayer has become a part of our church liturgy, as the entire congregation recites it. It continues to take on new meaning.

"Thy kingdom come ..." I think I am asking that GOD take over my own kingdom. Reading John Eldredge's Fathered by GOD I was reminded that one of the stages of a man's development is as the king...king of your own family, assumption of leadership - at work or at church. My kingdom is my sphere of influence. Some folks have larger kingdoms than others. Some kingdoms overlap and envelop entire countries. If GOD infiltrated all those kingdoms by request ... this prayer would be answered. He will anyway - at some point in time. I just keep asking that it be sooner than later, but like the 'prayer of Jabez' - I ask only for my kingdom...that's all I've got.

On the other hand, GOD's kingdom already includes the earth, a small parcel of his universe - a grain of sand of the beach of a galaxy of beaches ... and yet he has such great love for that grain of sand that he created and it's inhabitants that he allowed, no he planned, that He himself would become human and live in a small part of that grain of sand so that His kingdom could come...His will would be done. "On earth as it is in Heaven..." almost seems redundant - of course His will is done! His sphere of influence has no boundaries and his will is going to be done, though interrupted and resisted by many, he will have his way. So I just ask that I may be a small part of His will - His kingdom - and as we ask corporately ... His kingdom is fulfilled in my kingdom... and my kingdom becomes larger because I invited him.

prayers answered

I've a small booklet given to me by Bill Nash that reads Prayers Asked on one side and Prayers Answered on the other. I started keeping up with it, but trailed off years ago ... I think because I realized that all prayers are answered ... in time. About eighteen months ago I remember praying over Vicki Spargo, anointing her with oil, and asking for her healing from cancer. Yesterday, she was taken from the cancer. What an irony that as she was leaving this world, a group of friends surrounded me and prayed that no blockage would be found in my heart, that GOD would heal my heart and the doctors would find nothing wrong. But I had seen the photographs from the nuclear stress test that showed an area that was oxygen deprived and I'd had the conversation with the cardiologist who sensed the urgency to do the catheterization to remedy the problem. So when he told me and the family that there was no blockage ... that occasionally the tests show a 'false reading' ... I knew in my mind what had occurred. I trust that I have been touched by the healing hand of the great physician. Last night at 1:22 am I woke up to answer the call of nature. But as I returned to bed the full moon was illuminating the prayer bench I made for Karen two years ago - as clearly as if it was under the spotlight of a broadway stage. I accepted that invitation and gave thanks again before I returned to my bed. GOD is good and no, I don't understand ... but I accept. Praise GOD!

Several hundred years ago, someone took the time to clear these fields, stack the rock plowed from the fields, terrace the land, then plant and build trellis for the vinyards. This photo was taken last summer outside Rome at a villa that used to be the home of the Spanish Embassy in Italy.

I told myself when I began that I would not feel guilty if I did not make regular entry to this site. I do not feel guilty, but somewhat melancholy ... I've missed being here. Somehow in writing my thoughts out where at least I can see them helps me to get in touch with the reality of where I am - who I am. I tried to think back over the days since last I wrote here ... they have been busy ... too busy. Consumed with good things, but neverthelesss, consumed. Between living my daily walk, spending time with family, ministering to people in need, meetings at church, meetings at school, teaching and planning for school, yada yada yada... I've not taken or made enough time to walk away to a quiet place to pray. Jesus was consumed by the crowds, by meeting the needs of his disciples, settling the quarrels among his apostles, teaching, healing, spending his days dedicated to telling his story and reminding the people of the urgency that the Kingdom of Heaven is near. No, I do not compare myself to the Christ ... I am not worthy to tie his sandals ... but I am trying to follow him. Even he admitted that his life was not his own, but belonged to the one who sent him.

So, I return to the written page - at least today ... perhaps tomorrow. What I have to say is important - at least to me - because I write it down, it becomes permanent...a benchmark to return to later and think to myself, "Have I grown from there?" It is amazing how a visit to the cardiologist clarifies one's purpose ... pushes everything else to the side of the table and challenges you to choose what is most meaningful. So today, I think I'll build a trellis for the green beans ... that seems important doesn't it?

Every day I write a quote on my chalkboard. I'll leave with yesterday's quote:

"Life is not about trying to avoid the storms, but learning to dance in the rain!"

During my spring break I decided to take a sabbatical from here, determined that I would not feel guilty because I'd not posted a recent entry. I was successful. The first two days of last week were horrible and even still gave me lessons for life. Monday afternoon I was blindsided by either a virus or food poisoning. It was cool and rainy and several times I found myself lying on the cool concrete next to the flowerbed (my favorite disposal site). Too weak to move and in anticipation of the next wave, I simply enjoyed the rain. For seven hours I had no respite. Tuesday, my major adventure for the day was to walk out to the barn to feed the horses - an event that required considerable recuperation ... and then it was gone.
A lot goes through your mind when you're on your knees in the back yard in the rain. Somehow I think GOD was chuckling, thinking this is really where I need to be all the time ... on my knees asking for mercy. I thought about the many people I know who are presently going through chemotherapy. I thought about how thankful I was that I was not in some third world country such as a tent city in Haiti. I thought about how the sin in our lives slowly builds up until we need to purge it from our life, often in ways that are as discomforting as a flowerbed experience. I was reminded of the weak and helpless of this world and remembered that even in those times when I could not raise my head ... GOD was there ... he always is ... sometimes I forget to acknowledge his presence.

I've been listening to David McQueen's series 'Paranormal' in which he discusses the working of the Holy Spirit. It's been challenging to say the least. Read an article from my friend Jim Clark yesterday in which he reminded me to "be filled with the Spirit". That's twice in a week I've heard that command.
What prompted my writing today was the sad thought of those who have had their joy stolen from their heart. I looked at the endless rows of makeshift tent shelters in Port-au-Prince and wondered how much joy there is in that community, but then a video clip on the news showed children singing "I've got the joy, joy,joy, joy down in my heart!" On the other hand I watch as some I know follow the drudgery of their job day in and day out. They are tired when they rise in the morning. There is no fulfillment in their day or in their relationships with others. They often give little of themselves and therefore receive little from others. In short, their joy has been stolen. Someone slipped in when they were not looking. It's easy to allow ... just not paying attention... and little by little over time ... the joy just leaks out - like the helium in a balloon. Deflated and robbed of that joy they once knew, they float through life with the expectation that 'this is as good as it gets'.
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control ..." somehow I'm thinking this is not a multiple choice option. I think when one is filled with the Spirit you get it all. And if you've been robbed of the joy in your life...the thief probably got the other stuff too!
"Be filled with the Spirit..."

stress fractures

I can barely imagine sliding down an iced over chute at ninty miles an hour, but watching the luge competition at the Olympics makes for great vicarious entertainment...until there is a crash - someone loses control and they are at the mercy of gravity, momentum, and stationary objects. For the most part the luge is a controlled slide ... the athlete in 'complete' control.

I suppose many of our lives are similar. I live most of the time thinking I am in control - at least I seem to be. I visited with a friend recently who made me think about this a little deeper. When one is under treatment for some disease, often the medication that is an attempt to cure the condition or alleviate the symptoms has other manifestations that are an irritation - at least. It is not our busy schedule that causes the stress in our lives; it is not that we are not able to accomplish our goals at a satisfactory pace or with quality results; - it is the the realization that we cannot control the outcome or the order in which it occurs. Often our very thoughts become the webs that entangle and paralyze our lives - deceptive thoughts of our own inadequacy or ineffectiveness. These thoughts are themselves lies, placed there by the one who rules this world.

Often our attempts to paddle out of the muck only muddy the water and splash others in the canoe...when the solution to getting out of our quandary is to remove some of the weight from the canoe and allow it to float out of the muskeg. Oh yes, it is that simple. Lay your burdens down at the feet of Jesus. He will carry your burdens. "For my yoke is easy and my burdens are light." I often forget that if I am yoked to the savior of the world, he is carrying the load - if only I let him. I remember the first hiking trip that Caleb went with me. He was nine, fired up and energetic. Towards the end of the first day I was beginning to think I'd made a mistake in bringing him. He had grown weary under the weight of his pack had it not been for a cute college girl who dropped back and continually encouraged him, he might still be somewhere along Archuleta creek. That night while he was asleep, I removed most of the weight from his pack and carried it myself. The next day was so much better for him (and for me) and I did not tell of this for probably ten years.
Stress fractures our lives in so many ways. It renders us helpless, defeated, depressed, and powerless. If only we'd remember that the king of all creation will carry our burdens, if only we would lay them down ... and walk away. Too often Christians lay there burdens at the foot of the cross, only to pick them back up when they leave. Lay them down ... and walk away.

CHAPS Mtn

We were on our fourth day of an eleven day trek, already well into late morning and in anticipation of the afternoon storms. It loomed in front of us ... obviously the trail did not go around this mountain. From a distance we could see the trail snaking up this geological hurdle in out path and we counted ... twenty seven switchbacks before we peaked and walked over the top on our way to Piedra Pass. There were no choices...there was no grumbling that I can remember...we knew what we had to do...take one step at a time and occasionally pause to look behind to see where we'd come and the progress that we made. But then there was more trail ahead, so we could not linger. The storms were coming.

We did make it, though we agreed that we walked too far that day and resulted in what we have come to call "the Piedra shuffle". As we sat in the comfort of our tents just as the afternoon squall blew in, we looked back at this peak that was unnamed on the map and determined that, at least in our logs, it would be called CHAPS mountain - Cook, Hunt, Allen, Pierson. We simply walked one step at a time and were rewarded with a simple meal and shelter from the storms. That has been twenty years, but the memory is still clear.

I used to journal, or at least I made the effort for a time. My friend - KP - still journals ... I think he tweeted before there was Tweeter. This morning I looked over my last "journal entry" and realized I still have many of the same prayers, many of the same concerns. "I look back over the few notes I've made over the past four years and I am haunted by the fact that some of my prayers and concerns remain the same. I still ask for God to seek and nurture relationships in my kids - who are no longer kids. I struggle with words and direction in new beginnings ... for some reason I still think I'm in charge, when I know that God will direct our path and raise up people for this work. I'm simply planting seed."

Guess I need to be reminded from time to time that I simply need to take one step at a time and occasionally look back to see where I've come. I'll not walk too far today ... GOD will provide my simple needs and I will have shelter from the storms that are coming.

I've got joy in my heart!

Her mother asked me to talk with her Sunday..."she's only eleven, she doesn't understand...will you help her? Maria was only 42. She wasn't seriously hurt in the accident on Wednesday, so they let her go home. Why did she die two days later? Why are two little girls left without their mother? Why did her husband lose his job the day before?" I had no true words of relief or encouragement for Lillie. I just told her that I did not understand either...that we simply have to trust that GOD has a plan for good...even in the midst of this darkness. Why was Jenny Bazaillion buried this afternoon after only 32 years in this world? Why does GOD allow such heinous atrocities to occur? No, Lillie, I just don't understand. I am comforted only by the belief that Maria and Jenny are together and that they are better off than any of the rest of us. I watched the grief and the comfort and the joy in Joanne Rochette as she skated to a bronze medal tonight after her mother died Sunday.
Yes, there is joy in the midst of struggle.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Cheap grace doesn't buy much joy.
I am blessed. Yes, I am full of joy.
Welcome to this world Zachary Stone Campbell.

snow day revisited

There's a guy who has lived under the IH 20 bridge for the past two and a half months. I've stopped to visit with him. He did not seem a man of many words. He told me he had everything he needs. Over the past weeks he has collected a new sleeping bag, new tarp, new jacket, a plethora of Walmart bags and empty peanut butter jars, a new vest for his puppy and a pet carrying case. He's settled in. I worry about him during these cold days and nights, but he has assured me he is content. He has no need to go to a public shelter, 'cause they don't take dogs. He sleeps most of the time I drive past and only ventures out during the warm afternoons. I wonder why he's there.

I'm intrigued by the shallowness of passing conversation ... how quickly our talk turns to the weather ... our satisfaction with it or our anticipation of a change. We don't have much insight into first century Palestinian weather...only the references to storms that Jesus was able to calm or walk calmly amidst - even on the water. He did not talk much about what a nice afternoon it was to hang out on the warm side of the synagogue with the disciples or to rest in the shade of the west wall in the summer heat. He did tell us that "the Son of Man has no place to lay his head..."

I wonder if it snowed on Jesus...

Porcelain is my friend

Bill Cosby used to do a monologue on the results of too much partying and waking up in the middle of the night next to the toilet and reflecting on how good was the feel of the cold porcelain. I am worn out from battling an intestinal virus overnight. I think I'll live ... but it has been physically 'draining'. I don't like the feeling of arising from a night of sleep and feeling more tired than when I went to bed. On the other hand, I thought several times how wonderful to live in a climate controlled environment only steps away from that porcelain friend. I've played this game from a tent - having to quickly dress in some minimal garb and trudge down a mud filled path in the cold rain to huddle under the protection of a tree. As I lay awake last night awaiting the next episode I thought about how many in this world live with a regular occurrence of this activity ... from under an interstate bridge, in the high rise apartment of some metropolitan city where the water is turned off at night, along the streets of Bombay or Rio de Janero, or from a small hut in equatorial Ghana. I remember how blessed I am. I'll not complain. I have hope. ...and porcelain is my friend.

Valentine's

Are we in it for the magic or are we willing to follow Jesus to the cross - and die? We're either in it for the magic or the mission. At least that's what Randy Harris told us yesterday. He makes a good point, but I'm not quite so sure that it's that cut and dried...that black and white. His point was that the lady who reached out to touch the hem of Jesus' garment was only reaching for the magic and that the young synagogue ruler who asked for his daughter to be healed also had the same motive...that neither was in relationship with Jesus. I'm not sure I trust anyone who wears all black on Valentine's Day. I think an equal argument could be made that these two were desperate and reached out in a last attempt to salvage life. I've become more concerned with what happened to these recipients of miraculous powers after the shadow of Jesus had passed. We don't have those stories do we? I wish Paul Harvey had written a sequel to the miracles of Jesus ... a gospel sequel..."and now for the rest of the story". I'd prefer to think that this woman who'd been suffering from a bleeding disorder for twelve years was transformed by the healing power of our Savior ... and I believe she was. But I know too that she was human and quite possibly ... over time ... lost sight of that moment in which her life was changed. But I'd prefer to believe that also she was changed... because of Jesus. It's not an either/or situation, it's a both/and opportunity. Because of the magic - she had a mission. Me too.

DDDD

Last evening I had the privilege of attending the Daddy/Daughter Dinner and Dance at Highland. (Yes, I know my father is turning over in his grave to think that we actually sanctioned a dance within the church building! ... guess he'll get over it) I'd never attended this event, since it did not start until just a few years ago and is intended for daughters between three and eleven. I had invited Finda to go last week. Finda is the eleven year old daughter of my friend Prince from Liberia. A week ago I did not think he would be able to attend with her, so I invited her. By the grace of God he was able to go last night and I went ... as a social interpreter?
I suspect if one researched the history of Valentine's Day one would find it's roots in the Hallmark Corporation and the Wholesale Florists of America lobby. It is not an international holiday and apparently not celebrated in Liberia. It was a blessing to watch so many fathers eating and interacting with their daughters ... something also foreign to my friend. After dinner, the dancing began ... from the 'twist' to 'the mashed potato' to some 'Hanna Montana' thing and culminating in a waltz ... I watched as Prince and Finda joined 75 other "couples". Prince interrupted one dance to call his wife and "inform her that he was dancing with his daughter!" I was the "oldest daddy" there and he was the only one with an orange sweathirt. Love it! As I watched from my seat on the flowerbed in our church atrium, I was overcome with emotion as it dawned on me that these fathers were "dancing with their daughters" in a dance that will carry them through their lifetime together. All the 'dancing' Garth Brooks songs ... "I hope you dance" ... "may I have the last dance with you?" ... suddenly began playing through my head - all at the same time.
I closed the night with a waltz with Finda - which she had never seen before - watching Prince grin as he watched us! On the way home he told me, "this evening gave me great joy! I will begin planning for next year. I must learn to dance."

...and yes, I look forward to again ... dancing with my daughters.

snow day

Yesterday I left Abilene at 5:30 AM headed toward the metroplex in a school bus with 40 kids to go to a Genetics conference. There was a light rain and it was cold, but not freezing. By the time we reached Ranger Hill there was an inch of snow on the road and it was snowing heavily. We decided to turn back. Yes, it was a disappointment and an inconvenience for the rest of the day, but it was the right thing to do. Sometimes the right thing to do is difficult, inconvenient, a disappointment to others. Later it became apparent that north Texas had the heaviest snowfall in recent history. Good call. We don't get snow that often in the big country, but when we do I'm reminded of it's effect on our perception of our world. As I look out the window this morning at the five inches of snow that cover my yard I note that even the simplest of naked tree branches have become an artform - unique and temporary. The filth and the trash, the mud and the horse manure are covered in a blanket of white that covers the ugly parts of our world and for now, makes everything 'the same'. Sounds familiar, huh. KP and I went to New Mexico in October to hopefully experience a dusting of first snow as we hiked the Pecos Wilderness. Maybe that was subconsciously why...every now and then we all need to have the experience of being immersed in something as white as snow. Praise GOD.

Mending the wall

Sometimes when I have one of those "aha!" moments I think perhaps I should write it down so I can remember it. This past week has been one of the busiest and most troublesome I can remember...not in my own life...but in dealing with the problems of others. I feel like the farmer who is attempting to clear his field and keeps running into rocks. Although I am in familiar territory, it is though I am plowing new ground...and with each pass new rocks are turned over. I was reminded of this field I fell upon on the border between England and Scotland ... near the town of Berwick upon Tweed. This beautiful field of rolling hills covered in grasses and wildflowers was, I suspect, not always so lovely. For generations those who plowed these fields have carried the rocks they turned over to the edge of the cliff - overlooking the North Sea. Rather than toss the rocks over the edge, they have built a wall about three feet high that runs for miles. I was this morning reminded of the Carl Sandburg poem, "Mending the Wall" where he reminds us that 'good fences make good neighbors'. When I encounter those rocks in my life's walk... I need to remember not to attempt to get rid of them, but to use them to establish the boundaries to my life. This takes more time and more effort, but perhaps then ... these will not be barriers, but will become a thing of beauty that remind me (and others) of the efforts to define our parameters ... and will remain a legacy for generations to come.

Ananias

A family I've known for several years has suffered through domestic violence and general dysfunction to the point that two weeks ago they sought refuge from their father and husband through a local agency. Over the past year and a half I've had no relationship with him (his choice). Though many efforts were made, he could not hear me. A week ago I wrote him a letter in an attempt to reach him, since we simply could not talk. His ears were closed. He had become despondent and suicidal, so agreed to counseling. After his first visit, he called to tell me of the change that GOD had made in his life. He said "I was like Saul, causing pain to GOD's people - even my own family! But I received the word of GOD. I did not eat for three days...I was weak and broken...but by the grace of GOD I was rescued. You wrote to me and made me see the pain I had caused. My eyes were opened. From now on I shall call you Ananias!"

Well I relate this story because it is evident that this man has truly been changed and he rightly gives credit to GOD. I am thankful that GOD chose to use me for his glory in this situation. Please pray for healing in this family. I'm quite amazed at the changes I've seen in a man who only two weeks ago called the police to accuse me of stealing his children. Now he calls me Ananias.

GOD is good ... all the time.

an honored gift

Brenda is the matriarch of our church. She and her husband, Dan, have been the backbone of hospitality outreach for many years. Dan passed suddenly some eight years or so ago and is dearly missed my many. They modeled what a Christian marriage could be and were filled with servant hearts. About a week ago, Brenda approached me at church and tearfully told me that she had a request of me. It seems that many years ago a friend of theirs gave them matching "Brenda" and "Dan" coffee cups. For several years now, Brenda said, she has simply watch his cup sit on the shelf gathering dust. Would I be willing to take his cup as a gift and use it? I was deeply touched, honored, and humbled that she would share this memory with me. Now I proudly drink my coffee in the mornings from a cup that says:

Dan

From a true straight path
will never budge,
tries to live by
'God is my judge'.

I salute you Dan Chrane.

late start/straight path

With a dusting of ice and freezing temperatures we are temporarily paralyzed...at least our schools are...and life goes on for the rest of the world. Why is it the expectation that our kids need to start school late while the guy who delivers my paper can still get it to my doorway by 6:15 AM? There are many things I do not understand. Why do 7-11 stores have locks on the doors if they stay open 24/7? Why do we have a pair of pants and not a scissor?
An ex-student wrote me this week and asked me to explain why her pastor had been viciously murdered...how can GOD allow it? I had few words of wisdom. What I do know, I told her, is that though I do not understand how GOD allows a massive earthquake to decimate the poorest nation in the Western hemisphere, nor the slavery and starvation of children in Uganda, Darfur, or Zimbabwe ... HIS presence is there in the midst of the chaos. HE knows when a single sparrow falls . . . and one of his creatures' hearts comes to a halt. He is there under the rubble of a fallen school - offering gentle and silent encouragement to a teenage girl, reminding her of HIS presence and that HE will rescue her. My faith is not in chariots and horses! "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding, but in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight," Proverbs 3:5,6

Distractions

Last night I sat down with my wife and enjoyed the animation movie "UP" ... a recent release from Walt Disney. Yes it was enjoyable, but as good writers often do, there were a number of double entendre statements and quite a bit of symbolism. There were a group of dogs who had special collars that verbalized their thoughts to allow them to communicate with humans. As these dogs were focused on tracking and trailing a giant bird, they were frequently turned away from their goal by the sighting of a squirrel and completely lost track of what they were doing.

We are constantly distracted from what matters. It is important that we listen to each other, but it is critical that we listen to the Holy Spirit...in all things...we must now allow the GOD of all wisdom to direct our path...which may not lead where we thought we were going. GOD is constantly calling his people from a place of comfort and familiarity to a place that is new to them - a place where they will have to depend on HIM - a place where He is already waiting to meet them.

love and war

It dawned on me how ironic life is at times. The past two days have been consumed in my intervention in a family torn apart with domestic violence. As I waited on a Police officer to meet me so I could help the family move their belongings to Noah Project I realized I was going to be late to John and Staci Elredge's presentation about "the marriage of your dreams". I did make it on time and they did get moved in, but John reminded me that we are a love story in the midst of a world at war. Even though I have lived in the midst of the war this family endures, I do not understand how one can be so consumed in self preservation and misdirected pride so as to turn on those who mean the most to them. This is truly Satan's work.
So as I sat and listened to John and Staci, I felt as though he was talking directly to me. We've been blessed not to have encountered the great battles that many face in their marriage, but there is a great deal of similarity in our lives...all of us. I commented to a class on Wednesday evening that the reason we make the effort to give our testimony is that none of us walk this road alone. All of us experience very similar problems and challenges in our lives and it helps to know that others have survived...
...there is nothing new under the sun. God is with us.

maiden voyage

As I launch this initial entry, I must inform the reader that it is only by encouragement that I have agreed to embark into the realm of blogging. At present my perception is only that this may serve as some form of therapy for me to write as if someone else might be concerned enough to actually read what I've posted. It is more realistic to think of this as some form of journaling...perhaps it will evolve over time. I find it curious that this coincides with the beginning of a new year. Time will tell whether this is the beginning of something new and worthwhile or just the first of my annual entries. Perhaps you'll check back from time to time and I will actually have some worthwhile reflections or insights. Until then ...