carpe diem & skye

When I pulled up to the Kollie's house last Sunday to pick up those who were going to church, Finda came out with two of her friends - Skye and Sandrine. Skye is a frumpy twelve year old caucasian and Sandrine an eleven year old African. Sandrine said not a word, but Skye filled the silence. She immediately informed me that was not too sure about doing this 'church thing' ... oh and by the way - she was pissed at her father - "just thought I'd let you know". As the ride down South 1st progressed I was reminded as to why I do not teach middle school and was wondering why I'd not insisted that they ride with Karen (who was behind me). Then I was reminded of why she was in MY truck. Sky says, "Am I gonna have to sing? I mean I don't like singing ... especially those songs ya'll sing. I don't know them." I told her that she was not required to sing and should not feel that she had to. She then asked if we had to read from the Bible. She did not like that, because she did not know even the first page of the Bible. "All I know about the Bible is Mary, and Joseph, and Jesus. That's it." I told her that yes, we usually read scripture together, but that she should not feel obligated to participate. When we arrived at the parking lot, she was a bit intimidated by the size of the church, but off they went. After church, I saw them again and on the way home she informed me that she did sing a bit - kinda liked it - and that she did read along with the congregational reading and she did enjoy class, though she did not know what was going on because she was too busy talking and it was about Josiah or Joseph or Jacob - one of those "J" guys. She talked nonstop. But during a momentary pause, Sandrine quietly said, "It was about Joseph. Jacob was his father. He had a lot of brothers and he dreamed a bunch." "Wanna buy some girl scout cookies?" said Skye.

All things to all men

There is a business beside the road in Abiquiu, New Mexico that on first observation appears to be a gas station, but when you walk in you come to realize that it is also the local cafe, the post office, general store, bakery, feed store, and hardware and souvenir store. It probably functions in other capacities as well. Most of the residents walk to this establishment and on times I've noted, usually dawdle to visit with a neighbor and may even be joined by them on their quest to mail a letter and pick up onions and cabbage.

The business in the photograph is in Denton, Texas. The sign and the name of the establishment caught my eye and intrigued me. As I thought about reflecting this morning, I was flooded with ideas of the activities and plans that occupy my thoughts and just was overwhelmed with comments ... to the point that I had none. I thought ... "better to not write than to write something superficial" but then a memory of this photo came to me and I began to think ... when our church buildings have signage that specifically point out that "this is a church" ... that tends to limit who comes in. And when we further limit entry (intentional or otherwise) to advertise that this church is of 'such and such' denomination - we limit entry even further.

So what if we pried off the "Highland Church of Christ" sign and replaced it with Mabel Peabody's Beauty Parlor and Chainsaw Repair Nite Club and Spiritual Formation? I bet we'd have a lot more fun! And a lot more people! Bet GOD would like that!

Maybe I shouldn't think out loud.

reflection of memory

Henri Nouwen clarifies in The Living Reminder that who we are is directly influenced by our memory and our memories. I've known that, but he put flesh on it. We tend to suppress the sights, sounds, emotions, and heartaches that have accompanied many of our lifelong experiences, while elevating the good in those experiences - even to the point of replacing the negative aspects that impact our lives. What happens to us is not nearly as significant as what we take from what happens to us... the memory we carry away. So as I walk through today, I choose good memories.

May you also.

salvation

Recently I was asked to define 'salvation' and what it meant to me for our high school students at church. The following is my response - for what it's worth.

As I’ve given thought to this question, it occurs to me that perhaps the real question is “What is your response to salvation?” I mean … I can look up a wikipedia response and get [the act of saving or protecting from harm, risk, loss, destruction, etc. 2. the state of being saved or protected from harm, risk, etc.] but that’s not my personal response. It’s much bigger than that … and yet more subtle. My understanding of salvation is deeper, broader, and different than it was when I was in high school … in fact I think it’s different than it was last week. On the more obvious side – yes, I’ve been saved from my sin – those things, those acts, those thoughts and attitudes, those habits that continue to separate me from GOD – are forgotten – not by me, but by my savior and friend – Jesus. HE has said that HE has separated me from my sin, as far as the East is from the West… and he remembers them … no more.

Read what Paul said in Romans 7:13-25 then answer that question. I/we tend to look at David as ‘a man after GOD’s own heart; Paul as one of the spiritual giants; the apostles as those in the intimate circle of Jesus himself – and yet David committed adultery and then had the woman’s husband killed and then pulled a cover-up scam that would make the Taliban proud. Paul admitted he was the chief of sinners – known for his brutal treatment and imprisonment of Christians and carried a ‘thorn in the flesh’ to his grave. The apostles were so caught up in themselves that they usually missed the point. To me that’s good news! Jesus still loves me – in spite of what has happened previously in my life and who I was and who I am. Nothing … NOTHING … can separate me from the love of Jesus. In his eyes I am as clean as a newborn lamb. Look at Zach – do you think that he could do anything that would make Sarah stop loving him or that she wouldn’t drop everything to welcome him into her arms??? That is a brief glimpse into salvation.

So … my response? From Jackson Browne’s song:

I want to know what became of the changes

We waited for love to bring

Were they only the fitful dreams

Of some greater awakening?

I've been aware of the time going by

They say in the end it's the wink of an eye

When the morning light comes streaming in

You'll get up and do it again

Amen.

That’s right – I probably won’t get it all right today … and I’ll leave a lot undone… and there will be some that is wrong. But I’ll leave it in the Lord’s hands and I’ll keep HIS word on my lips and tomorrow I’ll get up and do it again. That’s my salvation, knowing that each day in the Lord is a new day!

This is the day that the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

Cairns

Over the past several weeks I've obviously not posted comments...guess I've been "too busy" or preoccupied with other stuff that have preempted words shared. I've thought perhaps I should rename this blog as "Occasional Cairns" I know that there have been many instances in which I've become so preoccupied with simply placing one foot in front of the other that I've missed a cairn and sometimes even gotten off the trail. So perhaps I should keep my eyes on the horizon and be more aware of the occasional cairns that point the way. Those cairns have been placed there by others who have walked this way before and it's probably a good thing to pay attention to their direction and experience.

I have been doing quite a bit of reading with this first week of February [Ice Age] and one of the books that I've been impressed with is a book by Henri Nouwen - The Living Reminder. Gary Southern sent it to me - with a story (later) - but one of the passages with which I was most impressed prompted me to share it this morning.

... one of the cairns ...

I have asked many people for counsel in my own personal and professional life. The more I reflect on this, the more I realize that I experience guidance and hope, not because of any specific suggestion or advice but because of a strength far beyond their own awareness which radiated from my counselors. On the other hand, I have tried to help many people and have been increasingly surprised that I often gave strength when I least expected to and received grateful notes when I thought that I had been of no help at all. It seems that we often reveal and communicate to others the life-giving spirit without being aware of it. One of the most comforting remarks I ever heard was: “I wish you could experience yourself as I experience you. Then you would not be so depressed.” The great mystery of ministry is that while we ourselves are overwhelmed by our own weaknesses and limitations, we can still be so transparent that the Spirit of GOD, the divine counselor, can shine through us and bring light to others.

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.