Remember my little group of First through Third grade basketball stars? Well, I’ll never forget them. Last night was the coach’s appreciation dinner / season review meeting. I was blessed to eat way more beef brisket, grilled chicken, green beans, yeast rolls, and banana pudding than I will ever need. But, oh it was sooooo good! The company was especially good as well. There are so many really special people willing to work with the kids at the Parkwest Church of God here in Knoxville, and I was blessed to serve alongside them this year. God is so good like that! Anyway, about the team of giants I had.
As the season progressed we were faced with many challenges and changes. Out of the eight players I ended up with - half of them live with only one or the other parent. Sometimes this posed a problem with getting enough players to practice each week since we all know how much harder it is for one person to do all the things two people were designed to do. Many weeks we would end up with just three players at practice (which was only a grand total of one hour per week) and as a result we would end up struggling during the games.
The unity of the team never really reached its potential because of this, yet we ended up with as many games where we outscored the opponent than with those of the opposite kind. I know it’s not a wins and losses thing – it was about the “connection.” I liked that – I liked that a lot! Here’s the really important winning statistic from this season - I made friends with some very, very special little ones that I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.
D.J. ended up developing a serious medical problem and had to drop out only to return and suit up for the last game. I was never so happy to see a snotty-nosed kid as I was when he rounded the hallway in uniform right before the last game. What a trooper! He needs our prayers as his medical issue continues to come to light and his dad heads off to another round of duty in the middle-east.
The rest of the kids kept doing all they could do on their end to be involved with the team. Some got sick, some went on vacation and never came back, yet some just continued to show up week after week regardless. One of those that never missed a beat was the smallest guy on the team, Jesse. What a great kid. He’s dealing with an attention issue (which we all have to some degree or another) yet his heart is so focused. He even showed up one night when he was too sick to practice and during the devotion time he simply crawled in my lap as we sat Indian style on the cold gym floor talking about family, love, and God’s desire to have a meaningful relationship with us.
During the past year I’ve learned a lot about relationships. I’ve found that I can’t control the future of them, nor can I predict how or when new ones will develop. I’ve learned to appreciate the good in them, and to let go of the bad as quickly as possible. I’ve learned some are only for a season, yet the really special ones are everlasting. I’ve learned the importance of having a healthy relationship with God determines how all other relationships will work out. I’ve learned that regardless if it is a friendship with a First grader or with a senior-citizen a healthy relationship requires honesty and realness, and a lot of time on the practice floor.
I’ve been truly blessed to gain so many friends through this journal writing process, people I would’ve never met other wise. I’ve been encouraged by people all around the globe, and thanked by many others for the words God has given me to share. I’ve had people that care enough about me and their relationship with God that they’ve taken loads of time out of their schedule to write me words of advice and direction. I appreciate every note from everyone. There are far too many to mention here by name, but you know who I’m talking about when I say thank you! We’ve made a pretty good team in my opinion.
I write all of that to say this, after this week’s item I will be changing formats for sharing all this stuff God is giving me. This will be the last “emailed” journal entry. Okay, quit cheering and clapping and get back to reading….. As most of you know already I have a blogpage up and running at http://desharp.blogspot.com/ . If you would like to continue to read these items please copy or save this address and check out the site each week. I already have quite a few of the older ones downloaded, and will continue to add more of them while I’m posting the new ones as well.
Why the change? It’s because I leaving this wonderful job I’ve had for three years now, and will be moving to Alabama to work in whatever capacity God chooses to use me in. Thus, for awhile at least I won’t have the technical ability to email these journal entries to everyone. Right now it takes a considerable amount of time and processing ability to send these out to the thousands they go to, and I simply won’t be able to do this from my new home. I hope that you’ve come to appreciate these writings for what they are and will want to continue to play alongside of me on this team – God’s team.
Oh yeah, speaking of team, where was I? That’s right – the last game of the year. As I said D.J. makes a Willis Reed like appearance (that’s one for you old school basketball fans out there) and as usual we ended up with just enough players to start the game. Jesse, tiny little Jesse was the only player on either team that hadn’t scored a single basket all year long. Despite trying on numerous occasions during the year I wasn’t able to help him get a goal. I talked to the referee and the other coach and we decided we would all work together (as three strands of a cord) to give Jesse every opportunity to make a basket in the game.
Time after time his teammates got the ball to him, and time after time he would loose his dribble, or one of the other kids would forget they weren’t supposed to take the ball away from him, and time after time Jesse’s shot would come up short of the goal. Kind of like my life in a lot of ways. I bet he must have missed fifteen shots throughout the game - and then it happened. Late in the final period he took the ball to his right and then his left and then back to his right (dribbling every now and then) and used his ol’ wind up from the side routine to get up enough momentum to heave the ball up to the eight-foot high basket and it bounced backwards and then forwards off the rim before finally dropping through the net.
The crowd went wild! I went wild! The team went wild! I wish you could’ve been there. Everyone had been cheering for him throughout the game, (Jesse, Jesse, Jesse went the chants) yes, even the parents of the opposing players - which is what we should be doing for each other – right? I ran out onto the court and grabbed him up and gave him a big hug as if he had just hit the winning basket. I mean it was stuff movies are made of. I put him down and got off the court so the game could continue only to watch the amazing sight of him running down the court smiling from ear to ear as he pumped his fists in the air. It was his moment! Jesse, Jesse, Jesse went the chants. There’s never been a more heartfelt celebration on a basketball court anywhere, anytime than there was that day at the First through Third graders 8:30am game at Parkwest Church.
What a team! What a wonderful group of friends! What a wonderful life God has blessed me with.
And on that note I invite you to continue to be my teammate as we begin another season next week. We all know there’ll be a lot of hard practices, lots of fun, lots of silliness, lots of drills designed to improve our discipline and techniques. There’ll most certainly be times when we’ll have to hold each other up with encouragement as this is something teammates do for each other. I suspect, no I know there’ll be moments just like Jesse’s moment when the smallest and the weakest of us will find a way with the help of our team’s leader (God) to get the ball through the basket, and a wild celebration of our hearts will erupt. Here’s to all the Jesses out there that know what its like to truly be a part of a very special team.
In God I trust and depend. My prayer for you today is that you will stay safe in His loving arms until our next practice. Doug
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
journeyman
Randy Rhode is a fellow that I’ve worked with for more than five years now, and in his trade he’s considered a journeyman, but more importantly to me he’s also one of my closest friends. He and I spent a couple of years hanging out Monday through Friday together. Some of them were good days, and some of them were merely so - so days but I’m where I am right now (in many aspects of my life) because of him, and I know that.
Randy is in a field management position with the company that we work with, and he does quite well at it I might add. Unfortunately, now that I work at our office location I don’t get to see him as often, and this I truly hate. He’s one of those dudes that just seem to make life better from simply being around him. If I had to describe him in one word it would be “Quality” for he’s all about doing everything in life with a quality effort. Ok, maybe his patented dance move of holding one leg behind him, while circling around wildly waving his free arm really sucks, but it’ll make you laugh out loud, yet everything else is “on-mark” with him. Family man, musician, poker player, apologetic, job foreman, true Christian, true friend – he’s right there with the best that I’ve ever met.
If you know Randy, then you know all of this to be true. He’s a journeyman in all aspects of life, not just in a business trade.
When I was at a point where I thought that I knew everything I wanted to know about religion and life, (yet was really down to a nothing-filled existence) Randy was placed in my life to point out my flawed ways, and he was really good at that as well. Too good! There were days when I drove home after working with him that I wanted to quit my job. I hated the thought of disappointing him with the lack of quality in my own work, or in my own life to be more exact. What I’ve found is that when you are around folks like Randy you either find a way to raise the quality of your own game, or you simply go looking for another team to play with - one that doesn’t expect so much of you.
Now days an occasional phone call or short conversation in passing is about all the interaction I have with him. Mostly we talk about folks and situations that need praying for, music or his two beautiful daughter’s (Karly and Kelsy) many, many activities. He most certainly has been a journeyman friend to me, and this I greatly appreciate.
In the past year I’ve developed more and more friendships with quality people like him - and in turn this has helped me to grow much more so than any period of my life. I believe this is exactly what God intended for my life all alone, yet I was too stubborn to accept it with out getting a big ol’ taste of what it was like to try it on my own. To truly learn and grow and mature we need to spend as much time with the journeyman type people as we can – for they will most definitely make a difference. They may not make it “easier” on us, but they’ll sure make a difference, and this I know.
I have a 3’ x 4’ quote board over my desk that is chocked full of truisms that I’ve hand-written in permanent marker over the past year and a half. Things that were thunked into writing by such notables as Dr. Martin Luther King, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Theodore Roosevelt, Johnny Cash, Zig Zigler, Voltaire, and George Carlin. On this board I’ve only included one item from myself, for even I know how shallow my thoughts are when compared to the likes of Johann Wolfgang Goethe, St. Francis of Assisi or Harry Emerson Fosdick, (all “journeymen” in their own right) but this is what I added.
“Perception is Power – right up until you are asked a question! Then knowledge will be found to be your friend, or just a mere stranger.”
When I was describing Randy Rhode I mentioned that he was an “Apologetic” which I didn’t even know the definition of until I met him. I found that in the religious context an Apologetic is not someone that goes around apologizing to everyone, but rather it is someone that considers it a worthy cause to defend the bible and biblical principles with knowledge of the truths in the bible. What I’ve also found is that there are many, many people that memorize and quote scripture, yet not as many who can maintain a meaningful conversation about a theological issue without letting their emotions take over. Most folks simply get defensive about their position rather than being able to defend their position with sound biblical truths. When asked about some current life event or circumstance that you’re dealing with personally many so-called scholars hang their hats on this verse or that, yet when challenged to expand - it becomes clear that their biblical knowledge rests in the early part of my statement and that is “Perception is Power.”
Perceptions don’t make journeymen, and journeymen don’t rely on fooling others through the power of perception. What I’ve come to notice is that real journeymen don’t seem to be too concerned about what other’s perceptions of them are – they simply stay focused on their craft. They don’t compromise their commitment to quality for anything, or anyone. I believe teaching, or preaching the full truth of God’s word should only be done by journeymen. Those that don’t allow personal opinion to circumvent their commitment to His truth, yet class rooms as well as pulpits are full of the lesser kind, and more sadly the pews and chairs are full of those that are willing to settle for this.
What I do know is that my life has far too few Randy Rhodes in it, but I’m searching! I’ve been rewarded from this search by having the honor of learning in one way or the other from such notable journeymen as Ronda Faull, Michael Card, Rick Blackwood, Neil McClendon, A.W. Tozar, Jesus of Nazareth, Joel Engle, Kent Keith, Robert Fulghum, Mother Teresa, Wayne Dunn, and Tom Coleman to mention just a few.
The thing that stands out the most for me, is that all of these have in common a commitment to learning, and passing on the quality lessons that they’ve learned in life through their the songs that they sing, writings they share, sermons they deliver, or simply by the way they live their life. Life lessons to be shared with others, for what more do we really have of value to give someone?
I like to think of my life as being a musical instrument that many gifted craftsmen have joined together in the molding and making process. I don’t want to have a first year apprentice or even someone that simply slept at a Holiday Inn Express last night influencing the work that is in progress. I want to end up being something that God is proud of, not others. For it is from He that all blessings flow, and to whom all praises should be offered.
I thank God for Randy Rhode, and all of the journeymen and journeywomen that God has developed and placed in the workshop that houses the project of my life. For I know that I would be an instrument of far less quality if it weren’t for the time and effort they have invested in the giving of themselves for others because of a much broader view of life than most of us ever envision. They have reached true journeymen status in life.
doug
Randy is in a field management position with the company that we work with, and he does quite well at it I might add. Unfortunately, now that I work at our office location I don’t get to see him as often, and this I truly hate. He’s one of those dudes that just seem to make life better from simply being around him. If I had to describe him in one word it would be “Quality” for he’s all about doing everything in life with a quality effort. Ok, maybe his patented dance move of holding one leg behind him, while circling around wildly waving his free arm really sucks, but it’ll make you laugh out loud, yet everything else is “on-mark” with him. Family man, musician, poker player, apologetic, job foreman, true Christian, true friend – he’s right there with the best that I’ve ever met.
If you know Randy, then you know all of this to be true. He’s a journeyman in all aspects of life, not just in a business trade.
When I was at a point where I thought that I knew everything I wanted to know about religion and life, (yet was really down to a nothing-filled existence) Randy was placed in my life to point out my flawed ways, and he was really good at that as well. Too good! There were days when I drove home after working with him that I wanted to quit my job. I hated the thought of disappointing him with the lack of quality in my own work, or in my own life to be more exact. What I’ve found is that when you are around folks like Randy you either find a way to raise the quality of your own game, or you simply go looking for another team to play with - one that doesn’t expect so much of you.
Now days an occasional phone call or short conversation in passing is about all the interaction I have with him. Mostly we talk about folks and situations that need praying for, music or his two beautiful daughter’s (Karly and Kelsy) many, many activities. He most certainly has been a journeyman friend to me, and this I greatly appreciate.
In the past year I’ve developed more and more friendships with quality people like him - and in turn this has helped me to grow much more so than any period of my life. I believe this is exactly what God intended for my life all alone, yet I was too stubborn to accept it with out getting a big ol’ taste of what it was like to try it on my own. To truly learn and grow and mature we need to spend as much time with the journeyman type people as we can – for they will most definitely make a difference. They may not make it “easier” on us, but they’ll sure make a difference, and this I know.
I have a 3’ x 4’ quote board over my desk that is chocked full of truisms that I’ve hand-written in permanent marker over the past year and a half. Things that were thunked into writing by such notables as Dr. Martin Luther King, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Theodore Roosevelt, Johnny Cash, Zig Zigler, Voltaire, and George Carlin. On this board I’ve only included one item from myself, for even I know how shallow my thoughts are when compared to the likes of Johann Wolfgang Goethe, St. Francis of Assisi or Harry Emerson Fosdick, (all “journeymen” in their own right) but this is what I added.
“Perception is Power – right up until you are asked a question! Then knowledge will be found to be your friend, or just a mere stranger.”
When I was describing Randy Rhode I mentioned that he was an “Apologetic” which I didn’t even know the definition of until I met him. I found that in the religious context an Apologetic is not someone that goes around apologizing to everyone, but rather it is someone that considers it a worthy cause to defend the bible and biblical principles with knowledge of the truths in the bible. What I’ve also found is that there are many, many people that memorize and quote scripture, yet not as many who can maintain a meaningful conversation about a theological issue without letting their emotions take over. Most folks simply get defensive about their position rather than being able to defend their position with sound biblical truths. When asked about some current life event or circumstance that you’re dealing with personally many so-called scholars hang their hats on this verse or that, yet when challenged to expand - it becomes clear that their biblical knowledge rests in the early part of my statement and that is “Perception is Power.”
Perceptions don’t make journeymen, and journeymen don’t rely on fooling others through the power of perception. What I’ve come to notice is that real journeymen don’t seem to be too concerned about what other’s perceptions of them are – they simply stay focused on their craft. They don’t compromise their commitment to quality for anything, or anyone. I believe teaching, or preaching the full truth of God’s word should only be done by journeymen. Those that don’t allow personal opinion to circumvent their commitment to His truth, yet class rooms as well as pulpits are full of the lesser kind, and more sadly the pews and chairs are full of those that are willing to settle for this.
What I do know is that my life has far too few Randy Rhodes in it, but I’m searching! I’ve been rewarded from this search by having the honor of learning in one way or the other from such notable journeymen as Ronda Faull, Michael Card, Rick Blackwood, Neil McClendon, A.W. Tozar, Jesus of Nazareth, Joel Engle, Kent Keith, Robert Fulghum, Mother Teresa, Wayne Dunn, and Tom Coleman to mention just a few.
The thing that stands out the most for me, is that all of these have in common a commitment to learning, and passing on the quality lessons that they’ve learned in life through their the songs that they sing, writings they share, sermons they deliver, or simply by the way they live their life. Life lessons to be shared with others, for what more do we really have of value to give someone?
I like to think of my life as being a musical instrument that many gifted craftsmen have joined together in the molding and making process. I don’t want to have a first year apprentice or even someone that simply slept at a Holiday Inn Express last night influencing the work that is in progress. I want to end up being something that God is proud of, not others. For it is from He that all blessings flow, and to whom all praises should be offered.
I thank God for Randy Rhode, and all of the journeymen and journeywomen that God has developed and placed in the workshop that houses the project of my life. For I know that I would be an instrument of far less quality if it weren’t for the time and effort they have invested in the giving of themselves for others because of a much broader view of life than most of us ever envision. They have reached true journeymen status in life.
doug
Friday, March 13, 2009
expectations (2007)
So here I am - save me
here I am – change me
here I am - mend me
here I am - send me
As I was listening to Shaun Groves softly sing these lyrics my heart began to melt this morning and I thought boy, how off base I get sometimes with my priorities. The lessons we learn through the simplest of instruments of teaching – “for there is God also”!
Saturday afternoon I decided to get my big caboose off the sofa and move the flower-bed to the side of the house from the rear – something that I’ve been intent on doing for four weeks now. After moving the landscaping timbers, and transplanting the living stuff, I began to move the river rock that frames up the bed. As I restacked the flat rock in an orderly and decorative fashion, I recalled a parable that Max Lucado shared in his book In The Grip Of Grace, which just happens to be my favorite of the Christian writer that I liken to a Pez-dispenser, due to the seemingly endless array of documented talent on display in the book stores today.
This book in its entirety filters around the story from chapter one, entitled “The River Parable” and to just quickly hit the highlights for those that haven’t read it: There were five boys that lived with their dad in a mountainside castle. Below their abode ran a rapidly flowing river, which they were warned to stay clear of. The oldest son (also known as the wise one) alone heeded his father’s call for caution, yet the other four found themselves being swept down river and into an unknown land. After an initial period of hope for rescue, they began to separate. One built a hut and began to live anew among the natives. One decided to watch over his industrious yet disloyal brother, to keep account of his “wrong doings”. A third brother decided the only way home was to build a walkway of river rocks upstream until he reached his father, and earn his forgiveness. The youngest decided to stay by the fire to wait with hope and expectation, that his father would somehow save them all.
The eldest finally arrived to bring them home, yet he was only accepted by the one that held steadfast to his faith in his father’s love. The thatched hut resident wouldn’t relinquish his newly acquired worldly possessions, even to regain his birthright. The judgmentalist refused to take his eyes off his brother’s ever growing list of sins for the opportunity to see home again. The hard working, and self-sufficient one refused to believe that his father would accept him merely by grace, and not on the merits of his own efforts (so he continued to build the road home himself), yet as the strong carried the weak back to their father’s side there was indeed sadness for the lost and dying.
In each of these siblings we can find ourselves mirrored. I can find me in one or the other at some point in life mimicking the mindsets of the lost sons. Yet, it’s the path-building dude that holds special kindred to my past, and ever so often my present as well. For many times I saw the value of God’s grace only validated through the works that my Christianity could produce. My confused mind believed His forgiveness was only the nourishing baby formula that gets us through our infancy period, and then we gained strength through “His appreciation for our good works” – until we are able to walk upright through the gates of eternity.
Sounds ridiculous doesn’t it, until you run in to so many that profess the same false theology in their actions and attitudes day after day. Grace is never enough for so many! It can’t be that simple, for surly our great God must have higher expectations of us! It’s so easy to get caught up in the mistaken belief that we are a part of the solution rather than facing the truth which assures the fact that we, as in our “selves” are indeed part of the problem. Thus, our need for grace!
This week is (as the past few have been) filled with busyness. Good intentions, strong effort, humble yearnings, but busyness none-the-less. Busyness - that takes away from my time of prayer, my consumption of His word, and my focus on Him. We all have so many expectations that we place on ourselves, and yet more often on others - expectations, that mold and shape our attitudes toward them, ourselves, as well as with our God.
In a phone conversation last week with my friend Connie, (a missionary in India) I was reminded of what expectations I should have of myself as she shared a story of a girl at the orphanage in Mumbai that has suffered from vaginal bleeding since she was three years old. (This is believed to be the result of an unreported sexual abuse situation.) She’s now in her late teens or early twenties I believe, and continues to live with the physical and emotional turmoil of this. Yet, when Connie came to comfort her the girl merely wanted to examine her hands. Then the girl’s face became consumed in a smile that would break your heart I was told for through a translator Connie found out that the girl had searched year after year, person after person for a connection with someone.
For in her mind “blood” separated her from everyone else. In the natural lines of Connie’s hand she found a pattern that matched her own, and they held their hands up - side by side for others to see the pair of almost identical roadmaps in their palms. Like the youngest of the boys in Max’s story this girl (as well as Connie) knew if she kept her faith, and looked long enough she would find a way home, even through the palms of another.
You’re probably asking, “What does Shaun Groves, Max Lucado, five boys in a parable, a missionary woman, and a small perpetually bleeding girl have in common with us, and our own real issues” (as we like to think of them as)? It’s that we all share expectations. Expectations – and yes, false expectations as well, the kind that at times guide our comings and goings. It pushes us through doors that may not be meant for us to pass through, yet stops us from entering those that have been purposefully placed before us.
Expectations that we can survive on our own – expectations that we are “just” through our judgments of others – expectations that we can work our way into His pleasure – and then there is the true and right expectation that His love will suffice until that day we’re brought into His presence for all eternity.
Expectations from Him, is easily found in His word. He expects me to choose to ask Him to save me. He expects me to be willing to allow Him to change me. He expects me to receive in fullness His mending of my past. And most assuredly He expects me to ask Him to send me to do His works.
Through your mercy and grace Lord we are able to ask of you all things, but most importantly we ask that your will be done in our lives. Humbly, I ask that you let the lines in the palms of my hands match yours my dear Savior. Amen Doug
here I am – change me
here I am - mend me
here I am - send me
As I was listening to Shaun Groves softly sing these lyrics my heart began to melt this morning and I thought boy, how off base I get sometimes with my priorities. The lessons we learn through the simplest of instruments of teaching – “for there is God also”!
Saturday afternoon I decided to get my big caboose off the sofa and move the flower-bed to the side of the house from the rear – something that I’ve been intent on doing for four weeks now. After moving the landscaping timbers, and transplanting the living stuff, I began to move the river rock that frames up the bed. As I restacked the flat rock in an orderly and decorative fashion, I recalled a parable that Max Lucado shared in his book In The Grip Of Grace, which just happens to be my favorite of the Christian writer that I liken to a Pez-dispenser, due to the seemingly endless array of documented talent on display in the book stores today.
This book in its entirety filters around the story from chapter one, entitled “The River Parable” and to just quickly hit the highlights for those that haven’t read it: There were five boys that lived with their dad in a mountainside castle. Below their abode ran a rapidly flowing river, which they were warned to stay clear of. The oldest son (also known as the wise one) alone heeded his father’s call for caution, yet the other four found themselves being swept down river and into an unknown land. After an initial period of hope for rescue, they began to separate. One built a hut and began to live anew among the natives. One decided to watch over his industrious yet disloyal brother, to keep account of his “wrong doings”. A third brother decided the only way home was to build a walkway of river rocks upstream until he reached his father, and earn his forgiveness. The youngest decided to stay by the fire to wait with hope and expectation, that his father would somehow save them all.
The eldest finally arrived to bring them home, yet he was only accepted by the one that held steadfast to his faith in his father’s love. The thatched hut resident wouldn’t relinquish his newly acquired worldly possessions, even to regain his birthright. The judgmentalist refused to take his eyes off his brother’s ever growing list of sins for the opportunity to see home again. The hard working, and self-sufficient one refused to believe that his father would accept him merely by grace, and not on the merits of his own efforts (so he continued to build the road home himself), yet as the strong carried the weak back to their father’s side there was indeed sadness for the lost and dying.
In each of these siblings we can find ourselves mirrored. I can find me in one or the other at some point in life mimicking the mindsets of the lost sons. Yet, it’s the path-building dude that holds special kindred to my past, and ever so often my present as well. For many times I saw the value of God’s grace only validated through the works that my Christianity could produce. My confused mind believed His forgiveness was only the nourishing baby formula that gets us through our infancy period, and then we gained strength through “His appreciation for our good works” – until we are able to walk upright through the gates of eternity.
Sounds ridiculous doesn’t it, until you run in to so many that profess the same false theology in their actions and attitudes day after day. Grace is never enough for so many! It can’t be that simple, for surly our great God must have higher expectations of us! It’s so easy to get caught up in the mistaken belief that we are a part of the solution rather than facing the truth which assures the fact that we, as in our “selves” are indeed part of the problem. Thus, our need for grace!
This week is (as the past few have been) filled with busyness. Good intentions, strong effort, humble yearnings, but busyness none-the-less. Busyness - that takes away from my time of prayer, my consumption of His word, and my focus on Him. We all have so many expectations that we place on ourselves, and yet more often on others - expectations, that mold and shape our attitudes toward them, ourselves, as well as with our God.
In a phone conversation last week with my friend Connie, (a missionary in India) I was reminded of what expectations I should have of myself as she shared a story of a girl at the orphanage in Mumbai that has suffered from vaginal bleeding since she was three years old. (This is believed to be the result of an unreported sexual abuse situation.) She’s now in her late teens or early twenties I believe, and continues to live with the physical and emotional turmoil of this. Yet, when Connie came to comfort her the girl merely wanted to examine her hands. Then the girl’s face became consumed in a smile that would break your heart I was told for through a translator Connie found out that the girl had searched year after year, person after person for a connection with someone.
For in her mind “blood” separated her from everyone else. In the natural lines of Connie’s hand she found a pattern that matched her own, and they held their hands up - side by side for others to see the pair of almost identical roadmaps in their palms. Like the youngest of the boys in Max’s story this girl (as well as Connie) knew if she kept her faith, and looked long enough she would find a way home, even through the palms of another.
You’re probably asking, “What does Shaun Groves, Max Lucado, five boys in a parable, a missionary woman, and a small perpetually bleeding girl have in common with us, and our own real issues” (as we like to think of them as)? It’s that we all share expectations. Expectations – and yes, false expectations as well, the kind that at times guide our comings and goings. It pushes us through doors that may not be meant for us to pass through, yet stops us from entering those that have been purposefully placed before us.
Expectations that we can survive on our own – expectations that we are “just” through our judgments of others – expectations that we can work our way into His pleasure – and then there is the true and right expectation that His love will suffice until that day we’re brought into His presence for all eternity.
Expectations from Him, is easily found in His word. He expects me to choose to ask Him to save me. He expects me to be willing to allow Him to change me. He expects me to receive in fullness His mending of my past. And most assuredly He expects me to ask Him to send me to do His works.
Through your mercy and grace Lord we are able to ask of you all things, but most importantly we ask that your will be done in our lives. Humbly, I ask that you let the lines in the palms of my hands match yours my dear Savior. Amen Doug
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Mountains
“I just want to do God's will. And he’s allowed me to go to the mountain. And I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land! I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land.” Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. From an address given in Memphis the night before his assassination, April 3, 1968
The prophetic words of a man whom I believe knew just a bit about what it was like to hold onto an undying hope.
Last week I was blessed to spend a few days in the central area of Alabama. There were many mountaintop experiences over those three days. I have a hard time (even today) trying to soak in all the experiences that took place over such a short period of time. The weather was beautiful as my dear friend Dale drove me to the mountain overlooking a serene lake where she works for the Department of Homeland Security protecting the dam from the threat of terror. As we took off straight up the side of the mountain as if launching into the sky I got to thinking “boy, I guess if a person has to work for a living (which most of us do) then this has to be one of the best offices I’ve ever seen.”
You could see what seemed like forever from the place we sat at the top of the mountain. What a gorgeous view!
Later that day we headed out to a place called Palisades Park, which is located near the end, or beginning (depending on which way you’re heading) of the Appalachian mountain range. They’re just an unbelievable number of cliffs and ledges to cautiously walk out on to overlook the beautiful valley below. There were climbers roped off on almost every cliff as this area was vibrant with life that day. Birds, (mostly buzzards) the size of small aircrafts hovered overhead as we stood with our toes stretched forth to mere inches from a stomach turning drop off below. Yet the view was magnificent!
We left the mountains and drove to another hilltop – not quite a mountain, yet it was most definitely a higher ground. The gravesite markers spread across the land like pixels. From the top of the hill where we stood it was as if the evidence of death went on for ever in all directions. As we got out of the truck she pointed to where her father laid.
Herbert C. Osborn was a Birmingham Police Officer during the upstart of the civil rights movement in our country and was killed accidently while on duty in 1962. She talks of him as if one were talking about the greatest among us. He truly was her hero, and even more so today! She smiled from ear to ear as she recalled one of her fondest memories of her dad. As a small girl she looked on in secret as he danced wildly to Chubby Checker’s hit song from that era The Twist. She could still describe almost fifty years later every item on his police belt from her memory. The long flashlight, the night stick, the handcuffs, the holster and gun as they flung side to side as her ol’ man was having the time of his life before he headed off to work.
“Full of life” she said, “he was oh so full of life.”
For a nine year old girl losing her dad, as well as her hero was as tragic as it could get. Her life was altered drastically from that day forward in ways she detailed for me in confidence. We lay side by side on the grass covering his grave looking up at the beautiful blue sky with tears in both of our eyes. I suspect maybe he was looking back down at his little girl with a big smile on his face as he gazed with pride at the remarkable woman she’s become.
It was time to come down from the mountain, for it had been a full day to say the least. What had started out as an improvised time of prayer and praise in the morning had turned out to be one of the most significant days I’ve ever experienced. True quality time with God, friends, and nature and I know all too well it doesn’t get any better than that.
Sunday morning came with a trip down the road to Mountain Pointe Ministries on the outskirts of the city of Oneona and to what may have been the ultimate purpose of my visit. I found that Pastor Bob Bryant and his congregation are simply overflowing with the Holy Spirit, and by the time the praise team got through leading us in a time of worship I was ready to take flight. Group after group sang song after song and with each one my heart moved closer to God’s. It was a connection to the Lord like I’ve had at no other time in my life.
We stayed over after the first service for a really good Sunday school lesson taught by a guy who recalled how God had used his sister to help deliver him years earlier from the stranglehold of a serious drug addiction. I absolutely love unpretentiousness! And if you know me, you know there was no way I would leave without staying for the late service as well. The movement of the Spirit was so strong in this place I could’ve stayed all day and well into the night. I now know a little bit about what Tommy Tenney was writing in his book God Chasers.
Mountain Pointe, what a great place to worship! It’s no wonder their building is overflowing with hundreds of believers as they hurriedly work at building a new sanctuary.
Martin Luther King Jr. saw mountaintop experiences on the horizon for impoverished and repressed Americans of all color, and no one could silence him from sharing his dream. He shouted with a loud voice for ALL the world to hear. It seems like I’m finding more and more lately that mountains may be made for climbing, yet it’s well within our reach to get to a point where we can simply moved them aside with the right amount of faith.
I believe Martin Luther King climbed mountains both diligently and courageously throughout his life, and in the end his faith moved many, many others.
The mountains of central Alabama which I climbed this past weekend are the same that so many people climbed in the 1960’s both figuratively and literally. Mountains of much beauty, and mountains of sure death. Mountains of wondrous sights, and mountains that beckon our minds to question so many things that make no sense in this world. Mountains of pure joy, and mountains of knowledge that we still have so much work left to do while here on earth. Mountains everywhere.
As I reflect over the past couple of years I praise God for staying with me while I’ve crossed through the lonely valleys, as well as during the seemingly endless climb up the steep sides of the mountains of my own making.
Let me ask you, do you recall the next line from the speech I quoted above which he gave mere hours before his death? If not, it goes like this;
“So I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man.”
What a way to live. Happy in the present - not worried about the future - in fear of no one for I know where my salvation comes and where my hope for eternity rest.
I’m going to leave you with one of my favorite quotes about life, mountains, and other stuff from Nadine Staire.
If I had my life to live over I'd like to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax. I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual trouble, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones. You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I've been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have. If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds, I would pick more daisies. Nadine Stair
I think just maybe I’ve finally reached a point in my life where I can put her advice into action from here on out.
Still climbing mountains, Doug.
The prophetic words of a man whom I believe knew just a bit about what it was like to hold onto an undying hope.
Last week I was blessed to spend a few days in the central area of Alabama. There were many mountaintop experiences over those three days. I have a hard time (even today) trying to soak in all the experiences that took place over such a short period of time. The weather was beautiful as my dear friend Dale drove me to the mountain overlooking a serene lake where she works for the Department of Homeland Security protecting the dam from the threat of terror. As we took off straight up the side of the mountain as if launching into the sky I got to thinking “boy, I guess if a person has to work for a living (which most of us do) then this has to be one of the best offices I’ve ever seen.”
You could see what seemed like forever from the place we sat at the top of the mountain. What a gorgeous view!
Later that day we headed out to a place called Palisades Park, which is located near the end, or beginning (depending on which way you’re heading) of the Appalachian mountain range. They’re just an unbelievable number of cliffs and ledges to cautiously walk out on to overlook the beautiful valley below. There were climbers roped off on almost every cliff as this area was vibrant with life that day. Birds, (mostly buzzards) the size of small aircrafts hovered overhead as we stood with our toes stretched forth to mere inches from a stomach turning drop off below. Yet the view was magnificent!
We left the mountains and drove to another hilltop – not quite a mountain, yet it was most definitely a higher ground. The gravesite markers spread across the land like pixels. From the top of the hill where we stood it was as if the evidence of death went on for ever in all directions. As we got out of the truck she pointed to where her father laid.
Herbert C. Osborn was a Birmingham Police Officer during the upstart of the civil rights movement in our country and was killed accidently while on duty in 1962. She talks of him as if one were talking about the greatest among us. He truly was her hero, and even more so today! She smiled from ear to ear as she recalled one of her fondest memories of her dad. As a small girl she looked on in secret as he danced wildly to Chubby Checker’s hit song from that era The Twist. She could still describe almost fifty years later every item on his police belt from her memory. The long flashlight, the night stick, the handcuffs, the holster and gun as they flung side to side as her ol’ man was having the time of his life before he headed off to work.
“Full of life” she said, “he was oh so full of life.”
For a nine year old girl losing her dad, as well as her hero was as tragic as it could get. Her life was altered drastically from that day forward in ways she detailed for me in confidence. We lay side by side on the grass covering his grave looking up at the beautiful blue sky with tears in both of our eyes. I suspect maybe he was looking back down at his little girl with a big smile on his face as he gazed with pride at the remarkable woman she’s become.
It was time to come down from the mountain, for it had been a full day to say the least. What had started out as an improvised time of prayer and praise in the morning had turned out to be one of the most significant days I’ve ever experienced. True quality time with God, friends, and nature and I know all too well it doesn’t get any better than that.
Sunday morning came with a trip down the road to Mountain Pointe Ministries on the outskirts of the city of Oneona and to what may have been the ultimate purpose of my visit. I found that Pastor Bob Bryant and his congregation are simply overflowing with the Holy Spirit, and by the time the praise team got through leading us in a time of worship I was ready to take flight. Group after group sang song after song and with each one my heart moved closer to God’s. It was a connection to the Lord like I’ve had at no other time in my life.
We stayed over after the first service for a really good Sunday school lesson taught by a guy who recalled how God had used his sister to help deliver him years earlier from the stranglehold of a serious drug addiction. I absolutely love unpretentiousness! And if you know me, you know there was no way I would leave without staying for the late service as well. The movement of the Spirit was so strong in this place I could’ve stayed all day and well into the night. I now know a little bit about what Tommy Tenney was writing in his book God Chasers.
Mountain Pointe, what a great place to worship! It’s no wonder their building is overflowing with hundreds of believers as they hurriedly work at building a new sanctuary.
Martin Luther King Jr. saw mountaintop experiences on the horizon for impoverished and repressed Americans of all color, and no one could silence him from sharing his dream. He shouted with a loud voice for ALL the world to hear. It seems like I’m finding more and more lately that mountains may be made for climbing, yet it’s well within our reach to get to a point where we can simply moved them aside with the right amount of faith.
I believe Martin Luther King climbed mountains both diligently and courageously throughout his life, and in the end his faith moved many, many others.
The mountains of central Alabama which I climbed this past weekend are the same that so many people climbed in the 1960’s both figuratively and literally. Mountains of much beauty, and mountains of sure death. Mountains of wondrous sights, and mountains that beckon our minds to question so many things that make no sense in this world. Mountains of pure joy, and mountains of knowledge that we still have so much work left to do while here on earth. Mountains everywhere.
As I reflect over the past couple of years I praise God for staying with me while I’ve crossed through the lonely valleys, as well as during the seemingly endless climb up the steep sides of the mountains of my own making.
Let me ask you, do you recall the next line from the speech I quoted above which he gave mere hours before his death? If not, it goes like this;
“So I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man.”
What a way to live. Happy in the present - not worried about the future - in fear of no one for I know where my salvation comes and where my hope for eternity rest.
I’m going to leave you with one of my favorite quotes about life, mountains, and other stuff from Nadine Staire.
If I had my life to live over I'd like to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax. I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual trouble, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones. You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I've been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have. If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds, I would pick more daisies. Nadine Stair
I think just maybe I’ve finally reached a point in my life where I can put her advice into action from here on out.
Still climbing mountains, Doug.
Monday, March 9, 2009
In the Aftermath (2008)
While sorting through racks of second-hand coats (in preparation for them to be given to the needy last winter) my friend Bob launched the idea for me to once again make a visit to the city of New Orleans. Bob is one of these people that just doesn’t grasp the true meaning of retirement. Although he’s “retired” he now works on more projects to help the poor and needy throughout the world than most people will in a lifetime. His commitment level to act out his Christian faith is a great benchmark for me, and I love simply being involved with anything he’s working on. Over the past couple of years he’s led several home-building teams into the New Orleans area, and through God’s lead he has helped impregnate an entire church congregation from the foothills of the Smokey Mountains with the idea of adopting that area as an on-going mission field. But enough already about my friend Bob…
Though I’ve been to New Orleans many, many times in the past I haven’t traveled there since Hurricane Katrina slammed into its gulf port three years ago. Honestly, I’ve been a little apprehensive about seeing the devastating changes to the beautiful landscape that I’ve come to appreciate so much over the years. Last week I embarked upon a journey via the Nashville airport - arriving in New Orleans just before sunset.
The next morning arrived early with its usual Bayou two-fisted punch of heat and humidity. By eight o’clock it was already eighty degrees and the air was as thick as the French bread baking in any one of the hundred restaurants within smelling distance of our hotel. I began a modest work that morning by handing out some thought-provoking tracks printed up by the Billy Graham Association to all those that had spent the night (like every other night) sleeping under the stars in Riverwalk Park on the banks of the Mississippi River.
My efforts and handouts were accepted either with a smile of appreciation, or a seemingly couldn’t care-less attitude. Yet mostly what I got was a somewhat confused look from them. That is with the exception of the woman that was in the mist of a full- throttled, raging, cussing, hissy-fit with “her man”. She quickly tucked both hands under her armpits as I approached her and refused to take my offering. Walter (also known as “her man”) gladly accepted a track from us, yet it could’ve been simply out of a heart-felt appreciation for our mere presence. Just maybe for a few moments that morning he was able to stop fearing the thought of being thrown into the muddy Mississippi waters by this crazed woman. Two weird strangers smiling, shaking hands, and talking about love was a welcomed break from the over the top drama for at least one homeless soul named Walter no doubt.
Sunday morning (which just happened to also be the opening day of this year’s Hurricane season) began with a nice long trolley ride down St. Charles Avenue as I gazed out at the marvelous architectural masterpieces from centuries of old. The very same buildings and sights that famed author Tennessee Williams was surrounded by while staying at the Columns Boarding Home as he wrote his masterpiece A Streetcar Named Desire. At the end of the trolley line lays the quaint city of Carrollton where I then began a foot journey down several blocks of busted and broken sidewalks only to land upon the doorsteps of Pastor Jon Lord’s Carrollton United Methodist Church. Dripping of sweat I went in just in the nick of time for the worship service to begin.
I found the service to be as expected, in the traditional manner of the U.M.C. order, yet also as expected it was very enjoyable. During his sermon Rev. Lord shared with the congregation several stories of days gone by while he and his wife served as missionaries in various areas of East Africa. His stories centered round the introductory period of electricity into that region of the world.
He told us how the government had put together a detailed study and then subsequent campaign to curtail the deforestation process which was showing severe and damaging affects on the environment at the time. Then he went on to tell how the powers-to-be directed their citizens to begin using electric stoves as opposed to the traditional wood-burning cooking pits of the day. They compelled the folks to work together to stop the massive burning of trees or face the unfortunate consequences.
The problem with carrying out this directive was all too obvious to the citizens of the villages though - only ten percent of the population had access to electricity at the time. Duh! And even if all of a sudden it became available to the majority of the homes/huts in the area it would’ve still been an unaffordable energy source on their minimal annual incomes.
That sounds a little like an out-of-touch Government doesn’t it? Hard to imagine - huh?
I really liked the simplistic view shared by one of Pastor Jon’s fellow-missionaries as he concluded the problem was un-resolvable in the manner in which the government was attempting to do so for the mere reason that “people prefer eating cooked food over raw”. Some things just aren’t that complicated, now are they? The town’s people weren’t going to stop cutting down and burning trees nor were they going to stop cooking their food regardless of any ridiculous mandate conjured up by their leaders until there was a more reasonable means of preparing their meals. Period!
But before we get too critical of elected-officials (as seems to be the norm of the day in our country) I think that Government leaders are just like we are at times, we often overlook the most obvious situations because we have this really big view of things. So big in fact that we can’t see the real problems and so maybe, just maybe every now and then we come off looking a bit out of touch with reality ourselves?
And with that in mind, let’s go back for a moment to the morning I was handing out a fist-full of tracks, (which by the way clearly communicated a basic level of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and without all that condemning language so many well-meaning handouts and groups use) which is another New Orleans story in itself. Though I was successful at getting a basic explanation of God’s plan of salvation into the hands of the many, many people that needed to know there is a true reason for Hope available to them, I still missed a very obvious piece of the puzzle.
You see, so many of these folks didn’t just lose their homes and worldly possessions in the deep dark stormy waters of Katrina, they also lost their motivation to recover. To pick their self up again, dry off their clothes and begin putting their lives back together. For so many of them Life is now seen as being simply too unfair to give a damn any longer. “Why try if you’re just going to get knocked on your butt over and over again” seemed to be the attitude that many of them were shouting out to us. Now, I know there has always been a great number of homeless people and even a few “bums” living on the streets and park-side benches throughout New Orleans, but trust me when I tell you, there resides on the banks of the Mississippi River today a community of folks that have literally given up all hope.
Their receptiveness to hear or read about a Saving Grace is over-shadowed by their more basic need for food, shelter, and clothing – and this is what I couldn’t see through the steamy air and my so-called “big vision” of how I should minister to them. That is until Walter, (remember good ol’ bout to get his butt kicked by a woman Walter) plainly said “Hey, you know what we really need down here, we need FOOD!” He didn’t ask for money to buy food or booze or whatever, he simply stated the obvious - there were a lot of people needing to be fed – and not just spiritually but physically as well.
I made a commitment to all of them that I would try and fulfill their immediate need for food if they would only be patient with us. After all, I’m an old, fat, slow walking dude. So I headed off on what turned out to be about a half mile hike back into the heat of the day to buy up as many sacks of fast-food items I could afford. As I returned to the park I heard welcoming comments such as “We knew you would come back, we just knew it!”
And there with her hands out was Walter’s woman-friend. No longer in rage, no longer spewing out cuss words at the top of her lungs, no longer wildly flinging her arms over her head and swinging her fist at Walter’s face - yet instead she was simply smiling from ear to ear, hugging us like a little child and asking for seconds. We may have not reached her intellectually with the words of the good news, but I believe we most certainly connected with her heart through the actions of His gospel.
At least on this hot and sultry morning the folks on the banks of the Mississippi were eating like the rest of us, semi-hot, greasy, fast-cooked food that we all know isn’t very healthy for us most of the time. The exception to the rule is that it sure beats starvation. But, most importantly God’s message of love and communion was shared among many of His beautiful, the yet often over-looked and forgotten creations he placed on our pathway this day.
Last week I traveled a bunch of miles to share (in a very simple way) the Good News of Hope that I know personally through our Risen Savior - yet what I also found was that God had sent me into that smelly makeshift outdoor city to get a better view of His beautiful Son. “For as you do unto the least of these”
During our few days in New Orleans I got to taste the delicious flavor, and smell the wonderful aroma of something that folks like my friend Bob and Pastor Jon undoubtedly experience on a regular basis, and now I can also declare; It is good!
He is mighty in His ways indeed! Doug
Though I’ve been to New Orleans many, many times in the past I haven’t traveled there since Hurricane Katrina slammed into its gulf port three years ago. Honestly, I’ve been a little apprehensive about seeing the devastating changes to the beautiful landscape that I’ve come to appreciate so much over the years. Last week I embarked upon a journey via the Nashville airport - arriving in New Orleans just before sunset.
The next morning arrived early with its usual Bayou two-fisted punch of heat and humidity. By eight o’clock it was already eighty degrees and the air was as thick as the French bread baking in any one of the hundred restaurants within smelling distance of our hotel. I began a modest work that morning by handing out some thought-provoking tracks printed up by the Billy Graham Association to all those that had spent the night (like every other night) sleeping under the stars in Riverwalk Park on the banks of the Mississippi River.
My efforts and handouts were accepted either with a smile of appreciation, or a seemingly couldn’t care-less attitude. Yet mostly what I got was a somewhat confused look from them. That is with the exception of the woman that was in the mist of a full- throttled, raging, cussing, hissy-fit with “her man”. She quickly tucked both hands under her armpits as I approached her and refused to take my offering. Walter (also known as “her man”) gladly accepted a track from us, yet it could’ve been simply out of a heart-felt appreciation for our mere presence. Just maybe for a few moments that morning he was able to stop fearing the thought of being thrown into the muddy Mississippi waters by this crazed woman. Two weird strangers smiling, shaking hands, and talking about love was a welcomed break from the over the top drama for at least one homeless soul named Walter no doubt.
Sunday morning (which just happened to also be the opening day of this year’s Hurricane season) began with a nice long trolley ride down St. Charles Avenue as I gazed out at the marvelous architectural masterpieces from centuries of old. The very same buildings and sights that famed author Tennessee Williams was surrounded by while staying at the Columns Boarding Home as he wrote his masterpiece A Streetcar Named Desire. At the end of the trolley line lays the quaint city of Carrollton where I then began a foot journey down several blocks of busted and broken sidewalks only to land upon the doorsteps of Pastor Jon Lord’s Carrollton United Methodist Church. Dripping of sweat I went in just in the nick of time for the worship service to begin.
I found the service to be as expected, in the traditional manner of the U.M.C. order, yet also as expected it was very enjoyable. During his sermon Rev. Lord shared with the congregation several stories of days gone by while he and his wife served as missionaries in various areas of East Africa. His stories centered round the introductory period of electricity into that region of the world.
He told us how the government had put together a detailed study and then subsequent campaign to curtail the deforestation process which was showing severe and damaging affects on the environment at the time. Then he went on to tell how the powers-to-be directed their citizens to begin using electric stoves as opposed to the traditional wood-burning cooking pits of the day. They compelled the folks to work together to stop the massive burning of trees or face the unfortunate consequences.
The problem with carrying out this directive was all too obvious to the citizens of the villages though - only ten percent of the population had access to electricity at the time. Duh! And even if all of a sudden it became available to the majority of the homes/huts in the area it would’ve still been an unaffordable energy source on their minimal annual incomes.
That sounds a little like an out-of-touch Government doesn’t it? Hard to imagine - huh?
I really liked the simplistic view shared by one of Pastor Jon’s fellow-missionaries as he concluded the problem was un-resolvable in the manner in which the government was attempting to do so for the mere reason that “people prefer eating cooked food over raw”. Some things just aren’t that complicated, now are they? The town’s people weren’t going to stop cutting down and burning trees nor were they going to stop cooking their food regardless of any ridiculous mandate conjured up by their leaders until there was a more reasonable means of preparing their meals. Period!
But before we get too critical of elected-officials (as seems to be the norm of the day in our country) I think that Government leaders are just like we are at times, we often overlook the most obvious situations because we have this really big view of things. So big in fact that we can’t see the real problems and so maybe, just maybe every now and then we come off looking a bit out of touch with reality ourselves?
And with that in mind, let’s go back for a moment to the morning I was handing out a fist-full of tracks, (which by the way clearly communicated a basic level of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and without all that condemning language so many well-meaning handouts and groups use) which is another New Orleans story in itself. Though I was successful at getting a basic explanation of God’s plan of salvation into the hands of the many, many people that needed to know there is a true reason for Hope available to them, I still missed a very obvious piece of the puzzle.
You see, so many of these folks didn’t just lose their homes and worldly possessions in the deep dark stormy waters of Katrina, they also lost their motivation to recover. To pick their self up again, dry off their clothes and begin putting their lives back together. For so many of them Life is now seen as being simply too unfair to give a damn any longer. “Why try if you’re just going to get knocked on your butt over and over again” seemed to be the attitude that many of them were shouting out to us. Now, I know there has always been a great number of homeless people and even a few “bums” living on the streets and park-side benches throughout New Orleans, but trust me when I tell you, there resides on the banks of the Mississippi River today a community of folks that have literally given up all hope.
Their receptiveness to hear or read about a Saving Grace is over-shadowed by their more basic need for food, shelter, and clothing – and this is what I couldn’t see through the steamy air and my so-called “big vision” of how I should minister to them. That is until Walter, (remember good ol’ bout to get his butt kicked by a woman Walter) plainly said “Hey, you know what we really need down here, we need FOOD!” He didn’t ask for money to buy food or booze or whatever, he simply stated the obvious - there were a lot of people needing to be fed – and not just spiritually but physically as well.
I made a commitment to all of them that I would try and fulfill their immediate need for food if they would only be patient with us. After all, I’m an old, fat, slow walking dude. So I headed off on what turned out to be about a half mile hike back into the heat of the day to buy up as many sacks of fast-food items I could afford. As I returned to the park I heard welcoming comments such as “We knew you would come back, we just knew it!”
And there with her hands out was Walter’s woman-friend. No longer in rage, no longer spewing out cuss words at the top of her lungs, no longer wildly flinging her arms over her head and swinging her fist at Walter’s face - yet instead she was simply smiling from ear to ear, hugging us like a little child and asking for seconds. We may have not reached her intellectually with the words of the good news, but I believe we most certainly connected with her heart through the actions of His gospel.
At least on this hot and sultry morning the folks on the banks of the Mississippi were eating like the rest of us, semi-hot, greasy, fast-cooked food that we all know isn’t very healthy for us most of the time. The exception to the rule is that it sure beats starvation. But, most importantly God’s message of love and communion was shared among many of His beautiful, the yet often over-looked and forgotten creations he placed on our pathway this day.
Last week I traveled a bunch of miles to share (in a very simple way) the Good News of Hope that I know personally through our Risen Savior - yet what I also found was that God had sent me into that smelly makeshift outdoor city to get a better view of His beautiful Son. “For as you do unto the least of these”
During our few days in New Orleans I got to taste the delicious flavor, and smell the wonderful aroma of something that folks like my friend Bob and Pastor Jon undoubtedly experience on a regular basis, and now I can also declare; It is good!
He is mighty in His ways indeed! Doug
The Masters (2007)
This past week I was supposed to be in Augusta, Georgia in attendance for the Masters Golf Tournament. Well, at least for a practice round on Tuesday, the Par Three tournament on Wednesday, and then the opening round of competition on Thursday. As I said, I was supposed to be there. My life-long dream and I was invited. We had motel reservations, tickets to the events, and a plan of attack to buy passes for the weekend rounds. This had been in the works for nearly a year now, so why did it all fall through?
Last summer I was playing golf almost everyday, including a regular foursome on Sundays. One of the guys from that group had us “hooked up” for this year’s Masters Trip, and boy was I excited at the thought. Each Sunday morning we would meet at one of the many golf courses in the east Tennessee area where we thought we could sneak in a couple of coolers of beer and we’d have plenty of “good-ole boy” fun. Our golf game didn’t see much improvement, but it was “good times” - as far as golfing and drinking goes that is.
Thanksgiving Day was the last round of golf that I played with them, though. An injury to my knee that I had suffered at work several months earlier had continued to worsen, and it reached a point that I just couldn’t play any longer. Finally I had to give in to the idea of sitting out the winter months to give my knee a chance to heal. What took place over the next month was life changing to say the least - for I began to go to church on Sundays rather than to the nearest eighteen-hole escape center. Even though I wasn’t living the life of a Christian, I hungered to be around “good people” and to learn more about what I didn’t know. Unfortunately my knee didn’t heal much though, and by mid December it had digressed to a point where I was barely able to walk, as some of you will remember.
Most of you know, last December I asked God to forgive me of my sins and take control of my life, (we all know that there are many that ask the prior, but not the latter and it becomes a vicious cycle of returning to the same sin that they have succumbed to for years) and this is when several things changed drastically! First of all my heart was healed, secondly my knee was healed, and thirdly my desires were transformed to His desires. Guess what, His desires didn’t include me going to the Masters Tournament, and hanging out with my former golf/drinking buddies. Instead He had a much richer experience planned for me this past week.
The week started out with a Palm Sunday Church service, and a deeply engraved message from God through our pastor. Wednesday night’s service brought about an unorthodox message from the same pastor, and a personal calling for me to do more in His service. Thursday evening there was the Seder Passover meal (a traditional Jewish communion service) and a true learning experience provided by two wonderfully gifted men of God. Friday night, and our LIFE group meeting (Prayer/Bible study) then my participation in the 24-hour prayer service at our Church. My scheduled time was from 12:45am to 2am. On the way to Church to pray, I was simply hoping that I would be able to stay focused for more than an hour of prayer in the middle of the night. At 3:20 in the morning I walked out of the building. I looked at my watch and began to praise God for how much time had elapsed as I had prayed for one situation after another for my extended church family. This may seem trivial to some, but when you go as long as I did without praying, you get a little out of practice. Try this - mentally add 19 years to your age (if you’re 40 now, then say you would be 59 years old) and ask yourself, what it would be like if you never said another prayer until you reached that age. Not a single one, regardless of your circumstances. Tough to imagine isn’t it?
Anyway, back to last week - Sunday came and a 6:30am Sunrise Service, which was beautiful both in song and spirit. The sun rose above the hills and trees around 7:15 despite the unusual twenty-six degree weather that morning. A pancake breakfast, good conversation, and a personal prayer session in the sanctuary tithed me over until the routine worship service began, (which as usual is anything but a routine service). Once home again I turned on golf and watched a relatively unknown kid from Iowa win the greatest of all golfing events, and declare before a worldwide television audience that Jesus was his risen Savior this Easter Sunday. What a simple, but fearless testimony! We can all wish that we would do the same, given the opportunity.
The title of this journal entry is deceptive in a way. “The Masters” not as in the golf tournament, but as in The Master plural, with the recognition that we choose as to which master we serve. What I came to recognize this week was that The Masters isn’t a golf event, but rather a lifestyle, a focus, a direction, a commitment to serve others through Him. The Masters goes on 365 days a year in our lives with the choices we make as to what our priorities are. I heard a pastor recently talk about the trap that he had fallen into with spending so much time watching ESPN broadcast of such things as fishing tournaments, professional poker playing, and reruns of sports news that he had just watched a few hours earlier. Masters!
Our jobs, our businesses, our children, our money, our worries, our golf-game, our televisions, our “religion,” our whatever - all Masters in one way or another that distract us from living out God’s will for our lives. Which will you choose to serve today? As for me, and my household……
Dear Father, help me to be focused on You each day, and not on the many Masters that avail themselves, or thrust themselves upon me. I want to be known by You as a great champion of faith, and deeds to receive a white robe when the course has been completed, as opposed to the green jacket that this world has to offer. Amen
Doug
Last summer I was playing golf almost everyday, including a regular foursome on Sundays. One of the guys from that group had us “hooked up” for this year’s Masters Trip, and boy was I excited at the thought. Each Sunday morning we would meet at one of the many golf courses in the east Tennessee area where we thought we could sneak in a couple of coolers of beer and we’d have plenty of “good-ole boy” fun. Our golf game didn’t see much improvement, but it was “good times” - as far as golfing and drinking goes that is.
Thanksgiving Day was the last round of golf that I played with them, though. An injury to my knee that I had suffered at work several months earlier had continued to worsen, and it reached a point that I just couldn’t play any longer. Finally I had to give in to the idea of sitting out the winter months to give my knee a chance to heal. What took place over the next month was life changing to say the least - for I began to go to church on Sundays rather than to the nearest eighteen-hole escape center. Even though I wasn’t living the life of a Christian, I hungered to be around “good people” and to learn more about what I didn’t know. Unfortunately my knee didn’t heal much though, and by mid December it had digressed to a point where I was barely able to walk, as some of you will remember.
Most of you know, last December I asked God to forgive me of my sins and take control of my life, (we all know that there are many that ask the prior, but not the latter and it becomes a vicious cycle of returning to the same sin that they have succumbed to for years) and this is when several things changed drastically! First of all my heart was healed, secondly my knee was healed, and thirdly my desires were transformed to His desires. Guess what, His desires didn’t include me going to the Masters Tournament, and hanging out with my former golf/drinking buddies. Instead He had a much richer experience planned for me this past week.
The week started out with a Palm Sunday Church service, and a deeply engraved message from God through our pastor. Wednesday night’s service brought about an unorthodox message from the same pastor, and a personal calling for me to do more in His service. Thursday evening there was the Seder Passover meal (a traditional Jewish communion service) and a true learning experience provided by two wonderfully gifted men of God. Friday night, and our LIFE group meeting (Prayer/Bible study) then my participation in the 24-hour prayer service at our Church. My scheduled time was from 12:45am to 2am. On the way to Church to pray, I was simply hoping that I would be able to stay focused for more than an hour of prayer in the middle of the night. At 3:20 in the morning I walked out of the building. I looked at my watch and began to praise God for how much time had elapsed as I had prayed for one situation after another for my extended church family. This may seem trivial to some, but when you go as long as I did without praying, you get a little out of practice. Try this - mentally add 19 years to your age (if you’re 40 now, then say you would be 59 years old) and ask yourself, what it would be like if you never said another prayer until you reached that age. Not a single one, regardless of your circumstances. Tough to imagine isn’t it?
Anyway, back to last week - Sunday came and a 6:30am Sunrise Service, which was beautiful both in song and spirit. The sun rose above the hills and trees around 7:15 despite the unusual twenty-six degree weather that morning. A pancake breakfast, good conversation, and a personal prayer session in the sanctuary tithed me over until the routine worship service began, (which as usual is anything but a routine service). Once home again I turned on golf and watched a relatively unknown kid from Iowa win the greatest of all golfing events, and declare before a worldwide television audience that Jesus was his risen Savior this Easter Sunday. What a simple, but fearless testimony! We can all wish that we would do the same, given the opportunity.
The title of this journal entry is deceptive in a way. “The Masters” not as in the golf tournament, but as in The Master plural, with the recognition that we choose as to which master we serve. What I came to recognize this week was that The Masters isn’t a golf event, but rather a lifestyle, a focus, a direction, a commitment to serve others through Him. The Masters goes on 365 days a year in our lives with the choices we make as to what our priorities are. I heard a pastor recently talk about the trap that he had fallen into with spending so much time watching ESPN broadcast of such things as fishing tournaments, professional poker playing, and reruns of sports news that he had just watched a few hours earlier. Masters!
Our jobs, our businesses, our children, our money, our worries, our golf-game, our televisions, our “religion,” our whatever - all Masters in one way or another that distract us from living out God’s will for our lives. Which will you choose to serve today? As for me, and my household……
Dear Father, help me to be focused on You each day, and not on the many Masters that avail themselves, or thrust themselves upon me. I want to be known by You as a great champion of faith, and deeds to receive a white robe when the course has been completed, as opposed to the green jacket that this world has to offer. Amen
Doug
Thursday, March 5, 2009
finding myself (2008)
I’m finding myself at a loss for words
and the funny thing is it’s ok.
The last thing I need is to be heard,
but to hear what You would say.
Word of God speak
would you pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see your majesty.
To be still and know you’re in this place.
Please let me stay and rest in your holiness.
Word of God speak Mercy Me
This morning, around 3:20 I found myself lying awake in bed - praying to God that He would heal all of the issues in a friend’s mind. That He would somehow heal the hurt, calm the turmoil, provide the needed peace, and even show me a way that I could help, and then about fifteen minutes later I realized that the prayer was actually for me. I find myself in need of God’s help in all those areas, but mostly in need of Him. An overwhelming sense of peace came over me, the storm was gone, and true peace was restored. Finding myself – what a struggle sometimes! Maybe I’m the only one?
I’ve found sometimes we’ll go to great lengths to seek God - to hear a word from Him. We’ll drive miles and miles, spend dollar after dollar, and hour upon hour to hear Him through others, either spoken or written. Yet, there He is - still speaking in that still small voice right there inside of our hearts just as He did thousands of years ago. And this, you probably know even better than I do, the real tale-tale sign that it is He (and not us, or even Satan mimicking God) is that there is an absolute calmness that comes with His words – and there’s our lesson in discernment for the day - it’s that simple!
Sunday was a wonderful day, (maybe the best all year) even despite getting a $175 speeding ticket before nine o’clock in the morning. I was privileged to travel safely to Lexington, Ky. to worship God at an amazingly, awesome, and almost indescribable place, Quest Community Church. If you ever get the chance – go there. My opinion, based on the experiences I’ve had is that you probably haven’t experienced the fullness of a real worship service until you do.
Their congregation is choked full of unbelievably talented and gifted people, as I suspect your home church is as well. What’s more than interesting is that it seems that they utilize those people, those gifts to the fullest, where so often this is not the case. Pete Hise is the lead pastor, yet I haven’t been to a service there yet where he preached, or even made his way to the pulpit (which there really isn’t a traditional pulpit). This past week Sharon Clements the worship and arts pastor lead the service. The time before it was Helen Musick the “transformation” pastor led it. Different, I know – but there’s obviously a God thang working in their mist! I think sometimes, (talking to other leaders here) we forget that we’re not just shepherds, but we’re also still His sheep as well? This church is growing by leaps and bounds, 2,500- 3,000 attendees per weekend from a start of just 65 people with a vision of God’s greatness some seven years ago. That’s having faith, true faith to believe in God’s promise to bless our ministry if He is at the center-point of everything we do, and say.
Last item about Quest and then I’ll move on – Sunday I was reading about a past service which they had, where the majority of the congregation left barefooted after a “shoe offering” to God. Sounds silly? Until we consider the mindset of becoming so humble and obedient that we would put away all value that we have in our mind and heart for the material possessions which we fill our lives with – and simply be willing to leave our shoes (regardless of what brand, how new they were, or how much they cost.) Transforming into a heartfelt presence where we’re willing to pray “I give it all to you God, humble me Lord, and help me to find myself in you.” Some of you pastors out there know all too well the real possibility of a mutiny situation that this could cause at your church. Separating women from their shoes, and declaring this to be a God thing – good luck - huh!
Lately, I’ve been trying to “find myself” again in the physical realm as well. I started a weight loss program and have lost thirty-five pounds in less than three months. I need to lose a lot more, but it’s been a good start – a good turn around. Heck, no one wants to die of a heart attack at the youthful age of forty-nine, do they? But, what’s been even more interesting for me over the past few months is the spiritual awareness program that I’ve begun. I mean a serious spiritual awareness program – not as a hobby, or just in my spare time. I’ve found myself at a point where the distractions come sometimes fast and furious, and then they’re days where I feel overly protected by His grace and mercy. Just as with the fact that eating healthy food, and daily exercise is leading to the loss of inches and pounds – my regiment of reading His word, complete honesty in my prayers, and seeking advice from wise counsel is allowing me to move in a direction that I’ve only hoped for in the past, which is closer to Him. As with the weight loss – there’s still a long way to go.
“Finding myself” - it sounds tripe doesn’t it? It even sounds ungodly to say it when we’ve heard over and over that we need to lose ourselves in order to find Him. Finding myself has proven that it involves the searching out, and identifying of all areas of my life where I need to let go of my grip, and take hold of His. Thoughts, deeds, words, desires, lusts, and even “worshipping” things that isn’t of Him. Finding myself, or rather the stripping away process that my friend, Joel Engle speaks of, is an unending process. It’s neither an optional or pleasant process, but it most certainly is a life-altering journey. It’s putting ourselves in a place where we can finally accept the gift of freedom – freedom to truly worship, to praise and to serve Him who gives life, true life everlasting.
This may seem elementary to some, but what I’ve found through all of this is that our eternal existence begins the day we are conceived – not when we accept His plan for salvation, or after we get to heaven – it has already begun for each and everyone one of us, regardless of how old we are, or what sorted stories and experiences our past holds. For on this day, all that it is important is where and how we’re going to spend this single day in our own eternity. To be still and know that You are in this place. Please let me stay and rest in Your holiness. – Now, that’s the key to me finding myself!
I’m finding myself at a loss for words, and the funny thing is – it’s ok.
Word of God speak.... doug
and the funny thing is it’s ok.
The last thing I need is to be heard,
but to hear what You would say.
Word of God speak
would you pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see your majesty.
To be still and know you’re in this place.
Please let me stay and rest in your holiness.
Word of God speak Mercy Me
This morning, around 3:20 I found myself lying awake in bed - praying to God that He would heal all of the issues in a friend’s mind. That He would somehow heal the hurt, calm the turmoil, provide the needed peace, and even show me a way that I could help, and then about fifteen minutes later I realized that the prayer was actually for me. I find myself in need of God’s help in all those areas, but mostly in need of Him. An overwhelming sense of peace came over me, the storm was gone, and true peace was restored. Finding myself – what a struggle sometimes! Maybe I’m the only one?
I’ve found sometimes we’ll go to great lengths to seek God - to hear a word from Him. We’ll drive miles and miles, spend dollar after dollar, and hour upon hour to hear Him through others, either spoken or written. Yet, there He is - still speaking in that still small voice right there inside of our hearts just as He did thousands of years ago. And this, you probably know even better than I do, the real tale-tale sign that it is He (and not us, or even Satan mimicking God) is that there is an absolute calmness that comes with His words – and there’s our lesson in discernment for the day - it’s that simple!
Sunday was a wonderful day, (maybe the best all year) even despite getting a $175 speeding ticket before nine o’clock in the morning. I was privileged to travel safely to Lexington, Ky. to worship God at an amazingly, awesome, and almost indescribable place, Quest Community Church. If you ever get the chance – go there. My opinion, based on the experiences I’ve had is that you probably haven’t experienced the fullness of a real worship service until you do.
Their congregation is choked full of unbelievably talented and gifted people, as I suspect your home church is as well. What’s more than interesting is that it seems that they utilize those people, those gifts to the fullest, where so often this is not the case. Pete Hise is the lead pastor, yet I haven’t been to a service there yet where he preached, or even made his way to the pulpit (which there really isn’t a traditional pulpit). This past week Sharon Clements the worship and arts pastor lead the service. The time before it was Helen Musick the “transformation” pastor led it. Different, I know – but there’s obviously a God thang working in their mist! I think sometimes, (talking to other leaders here) we forget that we’re not just shepherds, but we’re also still His sheep as well? This church is growing by leaps and bounds, 2,500- 3,000 attendees per weekend from a start of just 65 people with a vision of God’s greatness some seven years ago. That’s having faith, true faith to believe in God’s promise to bless our ministry if He is at the center-point of everything we do, and say.
Last item about Quest and then I’ll move on – Sunday I was reading about a past service which they had, where the majority of the congregation left barefooted after a “shoe offering” to God. Sounds silly? Until we consider the mindset of becoming so humble and obedient that we would put away all value that we have in our mind and heart for the material possessions which we fill our lives with – and simply be willing to leave our shoes (regardless of what brand, how new they were, or how much they cost.) Transforming into a heartfelt presence where we’re willing to pray “I give it all to you God, humble me Lord, and help me to find myself in you.” Some of you pastors out there know all too well the real possibility of a mutiny situation that this could cause at your church. Separating women from their shoes, and declaring this to be a God thing – good luck - huh!
Lately, I’ve been trying to “find myself” again in the physical realm as well. I started a weight loss program and have lost thirty-five pounds in less than three months. I need to lose a lot more, but it’s been a good start – a good turn around. Heck, no one wants to die of a heart attack at the youthful age of forty-nine, do they? But, what’s been even more interesting for me over the past few months is the spiritual awareness program that I’ve begun. I mean a serious spiritual awareness program – not as a hobby, or just in my spare time. I’ve found myself at a point where the distractions come sometimes fast and furious, and then they’re days where I feel overly protected by His grace and mercy. Just as with the fact that eating healthy food, and daily exercise is leading to the loss of inches and pounds – my regiment of reading His word, complete honesty in my prayers, and seeking advice from wise counsel is allowing me to move in a direction that I’ve only hoped for in the past, which is closer to Him. As with the weight loss – there’s still a long way to go.
“Finding myself” - it sounds tripe doesn’t it? It even sounds ungodly to say it when we’ve heard over and over that we need to lose ourselves in order to find Him. Finding myself has proven that it involves the searching out, and identifying of all areas of my life where I need to let go of my grip, and take hold of His. Thoughts, deeds, words, desires, lusts, and even “worshipping” things that isn’t of Him. Finding myself, or rather the stripping away process that my friend, Joel Engle speaks of, is an unending process. It’s neither an optional or pleasant process, but it most certainly is a life-altering journey. It’s putting ourselves in a place where we can finally accept the gift of freedom – freedom to truly worship, to praise and to serve Him who gives life, true life everlasting.
This may seem elementary to some, but what I’ve found through all of this is that our eternal existence begins the day we are conceived – not when we accept His plan for salvation, or after we get to heaven – it has already begun for each and everyone one of us, regardless of how old we are, or what sorted stories and experiences our past holds. For on this day, all that it is important is where and how we’re going to spend this single day in our own eternity. To be still and know that You are in this place. Please let me stay and rest in Your holiness. – Now, that’s the key to me finding myself!
I’m finding myself at a loss for words, and the funny thing is – it’s ok.
Word of God speak.... doug
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
balance (2008)
As I sat looking through the window of a restaurant last night I saw out of the corner of my eye a young lady come crashing to the ground. It appeared as though when she reached the last step she was climbing her foot got caught somehow causing her to trip and fall. She was in obvious pain. I could see that there were tears already flowing, as she raised her head up and cried out to her friend, who had walked on, oblivious to what had occurred behind her. My immediate thought was to leave the restaurant and go help her, but before I could leave my seat bystanders, friends and family had come to her rescue. Her left ankle was wrapped in a protective dressing indicating she had already suffered an injury to the same foot that was hurting her now. With the tears wiped away by a caring hand, helped to her feet with a gentle tug, and placed in a comfortable seat until the first- aid responders arrived – she once again had regained her balance. Still in pain, but balanced never the less.
There is something about a fallen person that makes me want to immediately help them. For whatever reason, I can’t remember ever laughing (as I’ve witnessed some awkwardly do) when I see someone take a fall. Maybe it’s because I unfortunately know all too well the embarrassment, and pain involved with falling. There have been times throughout my life that I have lost my balance and have come crashing down physically, emotionally and spiritually. I remember many years ago sitting in the floor in the corner of my bedroom crying for two full days when I was going through a divorce with my wife, and mother of my daughter, Emily. Two full days is not an exaggeration! I couldn’t make it to work, I couldn’t get up to answer the phone, I couldn’t stand, or lay down, I couldn’t stop crying, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t find my balance.
Then the third day arrived, yet there wasn’t a sense that joy comes in the morn, but there was a resolve to move forward. To pick myself up, to take a shower, to put on some clean clothes, to get the eye drops out of the medicine cabinet, and begin to find my balance again.
It’s tough sometimes, regardless of how many well-intended self-help books you read, or how much sound advice you receive from those that truly care about you – it’s just tough. I had fallen hard and deep into an emotional, physical, and spiritually draining pit – but then I finally regained my balance. I didn’t recognize it at the time, because of the sin of adultery I had committed but it was God who picked me up out of the floor. He was the only one that was willing to, and was able to fully forgive me when I asked for forgiveness during those two days. He was there waiting with His loving arms, willing to let me stay fallen, and to cry my eyes out as long as I needed to, then He took my hand and said, “you’ll learn from this, now let’s move on”.
Sometimes what gets hurt the most during a fall is one’s pride, and self-dignity, which is a very good thing I suspect. Even before the girl felt the harshness of the concrete floor last night I saw her looking around to see who was watching. Just before the tears and the outcry I somehow found myself bearing witness to the instant that the feeling of embarrassment streaked across her mind, and I felt sympathy for her just as instantaneously. Losing one’s balance – this I can relate to.
“Everything in moderation” - “Live a balanced life” - “Work hard – play hard” these are all things that we’ve heard over and over. “Being religious is a good thing when it’s done in moderation and in balance with a life that is seen as normal by today’s world” has been the false doctrine of Satan as well as some protestant denominations over the years. I’ve come to conclude that any level of “religiosity” in our lives is a problem.
When we become more religious than righteous we are out of balance.
When we become consumed by the standards of others, than by the characteristics described by Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount then we have lost our equilibrium in His Kingdom.
I know this sounds “preachy” but falling brings forth a cry for help to the only One that can truly make a difference. Let me ask you, do you find yourself fallen today? As you’re reading this are you feeling a sting deep in your soul from the embarrassment and pain of having fallen in your walk with Him? Do you feel ashamed that others, (those who you want to accept you, and see you as just as successful as they are) have seen you slip, and stumble? Maybe, just maybe you’ll be able to do just as I did and see His hand stretched out to gently pull you up from that sopping wet spot on the piece of carpet that you’ve resided in for two days, and hear His voice say “you’ll learn from this, now lets move on”.
There was a fellow walking home one night and he fell into a deep dark hole. He couldn’t climb out because the walls were both steep and smooth. He was trapped. Soon a priest walked by, and the fellow (Joe) cried out for help. The priest stopped, looked over the circumstance and then wrote out a prayer for perseverance for Joe and dropped it down to him before moving on.
A little bit later a doctor walked down the same street and heard Joe’s cry for help. He stopped and quickly analyzed the situation, then wrote a prescription for anxiety medication and dropped it into the hole to Joe as he continued on his way.
Then, just as Joe began to lose all hope for rescue a friend walks by and hears Joe’s desperate, yet feeble cries for help. The friend looks at Joe down in the hole and asks, “What are you doing down there in that hole, Joe?” “I’ve fallen, and can’t get myself out of here” came Joe’s reply. Then the friend does the unthinkable, he jumps in the hole and lands on top of his friend.
Both stunned and confused, Joe rises to his feet in disbelief and screams out “why in the world did you do that, now we’re both stuck!” The friend looks at Joe, and with a slight grin on his lips he says, “yeah, but I’ve been down here before – and I know the way out.”
Maybe you know a friend that has fallen into a hole that they can’t seem to get out of, yet you’ve got the answer for them that only comes from experiencing a similar fall.
Why don’t you stop what you’re doing right now – pick up the phone, or simply return to your email screen (jump in the hole with them) and let them hear you say, “I’ve been down here before – and I know the way out.”
What a day of recovery, a day of rejoicing, a day of deliverance this would be - if we all would only reach out to help just one person regain their balance today. And it’s only through this process that I’ve discovered this is how we can “count it all joy”, as James 1:2 says... Doug
There is something about a fallen person that makes me want to immediately help them. For whatever reason, I can’t remember ever laughing (as I’ve witnessed some awkwardly do) when I see someone take a fall. Maybe it’s because I unfortunately know all too well the embarrassment, and pain involved with falling. There have been times throughout my life that I have lost my balance and have come crashing down physically, emotionally and spiritually. I remember many years ago sitting in the floor in the corner of my bedroom crying for two full days when I was going through a divorce with my wife, and mother of my daughter, Emily. Two full days is not an exaggeration! I couldn’t make it to work, I couldn’t get up to answer the phone, I couldn’t stand, or lay down, I couldn’t stop crying, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t find my balance.
Then the third day arrived, yet there wasn’t a sense that joy comes in the morn, but there was a resolve to move forward. To pick myself up, to take a shower, to put on some clean clothes, to get the eye drops out of the medicine cabinet, and begin to find my balance again.
It’s tough sometimes, regardless of how many well-intended self-help books you read, or how much sound advice you receive from those that truly care about you – it’s just tough. I had fallen hard and deep into an emotional, physical, and spiritually draining pit – but then I finally regained my balance. I didn’t recognize it at the time, because of the sin of adultery I had committed but it was God who picked me up out of the floor. He was the only one that was willing to, and was able to fully forgive me when I asked for forgiveness during those two days. He was there waiting with His loving arms, willing to let me stay fallen, and to cry my eyes out as long as I needed to, then He took my hand and said, “you’ll learn from this, now let’s move on”.
Sometimes what gets hurt the most during a fall is one’s pride, and self-dignity, which is a very good thing I suspect. Even before the girl felt the harshness of the concrete floor last night I saw her looking around to see who was watching. Just before the tears and the outcry I somehow found myself bearing witness to the instant that the feeling of embarrassment streaked across her mind, and I felt sympathy for her just as instantaneously. Losing one’s balance – this I can relate to.
“Everything in moderation” - “Live a balanced life” - “Work hard – play hard” these are all things that we’ve heard over and over. “Being religious is a good thing when it’s done in moderation and in balance with a life that is seen as normal by today’s world” has been the false doctrine of Satan as well as some protestant denominations over the years. I’ve come to conclude that any level of “religiosity” in our lives is a problem.
When we become more religious than righteous we are out of balance.
When we become consumed by the standards of others, than by the characteristics described by Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount then we have lost our equilibrium in His Kingdom.
I know this sounds “preachy” but falling brings forth a cry for help to the only One that can truly make a difference. Let me ask you, do you find yourself fallen today? As you’re reading this are you feeling a sting deep in your soul from the embarrassment and pain of having fallen in your walk with Him? Do you feel ashamed that others, (those who you want to accept you, and see you as just as successful as they are) have seen you slip, and stumble? Maybe, just maybe you’ll be able to do just as I did and see His hand stretched out to gently pull you up from that sopping wet spot on the piece of carpet that you’ve resided in for two days, and hear His voice say “you’ll learn from this, now lets move on”.
There was a fellow walking home one night and he fell into a deep dark hole. He couldn’t climb out because the walls were both steep and smooth. He was trapped. Soon a priest walked by, and the fellow (Joe) cried out for help. The priest stopped, looked over the circumstance and then wrote out a prayer for perseverance for Joe and dropped it down to him before moving on.
A little bit later a doctor walked down the same street and heard Joe’s cry for help. He stopped and quickly analyzed the situation, then wrote a prescription for anxiety medication and dropped it into the hole to Joe as he continued on his way.
Then, just as Joe began to lose all hope for rescue a friend walks by and hears Joe’s desperate, yet feeble cries for help. The friend looks at Joe down in the hole and asks, “What are you doing down there in that hole, Joe?” “I’ve fallen, and can’t get myself out of here” came Joe’s reply. Then the friend does the unthinkable, he jumps in the hole and lands on top of his friend.
Both stunned and confused, Joe rises to his feet in disbelief and screams out “why in the world did you do that, now we’re both stuck!” The friend looks at Joe, and with a slight grin on his lips he says, “yeah, but I’ve been down here before – and I know the way out.”
Maybe you know a friend that has fallen into a hole that they can’t seem to get out of, yet you’ve got the answer for them that only comes from experiencing a similar fall.
Why don’t you stop what you’re doing right now – pick up the phone, or simply return to your email screen (jump in the hole with them) and let them hear you say, “I’ve been down here before – and I know the way out.”
What a day of recovery, a day of rejoicing, a day of deliverance this would be - if we all would only reach out to help just one person regain their balance today. And it’s only through this process that I’ve discovered this is how we can “count it all joy”, as James 1:2 says... Doug
Monday, March 2, 2009
embarrassed
I originally wrote this item in 2007.
Embarrassed!
Did she just say, embarrassed?
Have you ever noticed that sometimes during the heat, of what the self-help gurus call “a healthy discussion” (an argument where I come from) something is said that takes the whole thing to the next level?
The word embarrass is that something today.
She asked; “Doesn't the way you live your life embarrass you?”
I knew what she really meant - but before I could respond with my answer, I instinctively heard myself ask this question. What do you mean by, 'the way I live my life'?
She went on to define “embarrassed” as it relates to my life as; me driving a piece of crap car - living in a camper - working in the construction business after nearly 30 years in a management career. Then the clincher; the way you now profess to be a “Christian” after making a fool of yourself all those years telling people you weren't even sure there was a God.
Well the gloves were certainly coming off now (as they say) as it was obvious this was heating up quickly to become one of those throw-down types of arguments. I guess it was a good thing I'm one of her friends, because I would hate to be attacked by her if I were one of her enemies!
Her pause led me to believe she had emptied her clip, and was reloading - so I took advantage of the situation as any brave soldier would do by jumping in. I started to (as most "healthy discussion" participants do) unload my barrage of rocks back at her, and then I hesitated. For out of nowhere came a voice that said; you without sin cast the first stone, and so I no longer had the urge to pop her up side the head with a rock. Suddenly my entire mindset changed, and I found myself reaching deep into my heart for a civil response, and this is what came out.
“Do you want to know what it takes to embarrass me? I'll tell you! It takes being 15 years old, just getting off the school bus in the housing projects where you and your family has lived for years. You round the corner while jostling with your friends, and there standing before you is the most embarrassing moment of your life. Everything you and your family own has been thrown out onto the sidewalk in front of your apartment. Your clothes, your bed, your record collection, dishes, dirty clothes, artificial Christmas tree, everything! So, how do you as a kid handle that kind of embarrassment? How do you maintain any semblance of self-dignity when your friends and neighbors see you stripped naked before the world?”
“It was already hard enough to fool yourself into believing you had a little bit of self-dignity as it was. Especially around the kids at school (the ones that you wanted so badly to be accepted by) yet they all knew you rode the bus back and forth from the housing project. As we all know, at a drop of the hat kids have a tendency to throw that kind of stuff out there to embarrass you. Yet, you've come to grips with it and still tried to hold your head up.
Fortunately you still have the kids that rode the same bus to call your peers. They’re in the same situation - so they can relate. A band of misfits, or ‘family members’ as I now look back at them as. But on this day that was no longer the case, as now I found myself lower than them. Everything we owned was piled there half on the sidewalk, and half in the street and seemingly the entire world was now looking at us with disgust - now that’s embarrassment as its defined in my life!
How can a teenager maintain any measurable level of dignity when faced with that type of humiliation before his neighbors, friends, and enemies alike? Already fighting the battle with an abusive alcoholic stepfather, five siblings, and a mom who wasn't around much because she had to work two and sometimes three jobs just to keep our heads barely bobbing above water. I assure you it was already a struggle to find any sign of peace in my life, much less a bit of self-worth in myself.” Embarrassed doesn't even come remotely close to how I felt that afternoon and the days and years that surrounded it.
Then I returned to answer her question; "Am I embarrassed about how I live now?" Ha, I don’t think so! For the first time in my life the description of that experience had come from my lips. I couldn't believe it myself! I've harbored the resentment of that situation for over 30 years – but now it was finally out there. It was like having an evil spirit exorcised from my soul. What a sense of relief! What a sense of release! What a sense of naked vulnerability! Yet somehow, me blurting all that out, seemed to stop the back and forth action in the argument.
I went on to explain that regardless my current circumstances I couldn't see myself returning to a mindset where I would value material possessions over the things that are truly important in life. To have the freedom from the superficial concerns which had possessed me for so much of my adulthood allows me to focus on helping others in need, and it is anything but embarrassing to me. I ended the conversation, (which it had simmered down to at this point) oddly enough by telling her about the embarrassment that Jesus' disciple, Peter must have felt one fateful morning.
After a night of hiding out in his comfort zone (a fishing boat) he came swimming to shore in time to see Jesus, the risen Savior whipping up some breakfast on the beach. Peter hurries over as his eyes must be deceiving him - yet it truly was his master. Then he remembers how he had betrayed Jesus by denying he even knew that “crazy man” from Galilee but not just once - yet denial times three! Then Peter begins to feel embarrassed, after all at the supper table he boldly declared that even if he had to go it alone - he would never forsake his Lord. “Embarrassed” is defined in Peter’s life by this moment. Left feeling stripped naked (not in front of the whole world) but rather before the one that came to save the world.
And here’s the good stuff; Jesus didn't say - Peter, how could you have done me that way? Or, promise me that you won’t lie to me again. Peter, tell me that you won’t deny me before others anymore. Or, Peter, don’t try to make yourself appear to be stronger or bolder than others anymore.
No, he simply asked; Peter do you love me? Peter replied… Jesus asked again; Peter do you love me? Again Peter replied once more… A third time He asked, Peter do you love me?
Peter no longer worried about being embarrassed, for his heart was broken for he knew now Jesus had assuredly forgiven him, even though he didn't deserve it.
Embarrassed that I enthusiastically tell others of God’s amazing love and mercy, (after denying him for so long) - I doubt it!
For if your heart is full of the love, which overflows from His cup, then there’s no room for embarrassment in serving Him.
Then He said unto me, “As for the rest of the embarrassing issues in your life - you simply have to get over them. You can’t afford to maintain those kinds of distractions while serving me.” And I said earnestly in response, “Please give me the strength Lord, to continue moving forward!”
For if a man gains the entire world, yet loses his soul…I suspect the punishment will be much greater than a mere feeling of embarrassment. When you grow up with nothing quite often as an adult we over-indulge our selves with stuff to make ourselves feel better. To trick ourselves into thinking we have broken free from our past, from poverty, from our nothingness. Yet, all along we're simply allowing ourselves to be bound by something even greater in power than poverty.
Many of you have been through situations that are so much worse than mere "embarrassing" moments in your life - things I can't even imagine having to deal with. Thus I never complain about my life! I'll never compare by hurt, my problems, my experiences to what anyone else has gone through, because I know I've been blessed from birth to escape real pain, real hardships. Yet, what I learned through this situation can apply to each and every one of us, for its not based on my strength or yours, its based solely on His strength to see us through all the tough times in our lives.
Holding on to embarrassment and other such negative feelings is just another way the Enemy attacks us, and keeps us from reaching our true potential in Christ. Trust in Jesus to see you through the most trying of circumstances!
Your brother in Christ, Doug
Embarrassed!
Did she just say, embarrassed?
Have you ever noticed that sometimes during the heat, of what the self-help gurus call “a healthy discussion” (an argument where I come from) something is said that takes the whole thing to the next level?
The word embarrass is that something today.
She asked; “Doesn't the way you live your life embarrass you?”
I knew what she really meant - but before I could respond with my answer, I instinctively heard myself ask this question. What do you mean by, 'the way I live my life'?
She went on to define “embarrassed” as it relates to my life as; me driving a piece of crap car - living in a camper - working in the construction business after nearly 30 years in a management career. Then the clincher; the way you now profess to be a “Christian” after making a fool of yourself all those years telling people you weren't even sure there was a God.
Well the gloves were certainly coming off now (as they say) as it was obvious this was heating up quickly to become one of those throw-down types of arguments. I guess it was a good thing I'm one of her friends, because I would hate to be attacked by her if I were one of her enemies!
Her pause led me to believe she had emptied her clip, and was reloading - so I took advantage of the situation as any brave soldier would do by jumping in. I started to (as most "healthy discussion" participants do) unload my barrage of rocks back at her, and then I hesitated. For out of nowhere came a voice that said; you without sin cast the first stone, and so I no longer had the urge to pop her up side the head with a rock. Suddenly my entire mindset changed, and I found myself reaching deep into my heart for a civil response, and this is what came out.
“Do you want to know what it takes to embarrass me? I'll tell you! It takes being 15 years old, just getting off the school bus in the housing projects where you and your family has lived for years. You round the corner while jostling with your friends, and there standing before you is the most embarrassing moment of your life. Everything you and your family own has been thrown out onto the sidewalk in front of your apartment. Your clothes, your bed, your record collection, dishes, dirty clothes, artificial Christmas tree, everything! So, how do you as a kid handle that kind of embarrassment? How do you maintain any semblance of self-dignity when your friends and neighbors see you stripped naked before the world?”
“It was already hard enough to fool yourself into believing you had a little bit of self-dignity as it was. Especially around the kids at school (the ones that you wanted so badly to be accepted by) yet they all knew you rode the bus back and forth from the housing project. As we all know, at a drop of the hat kids have a tendency to throw that kind of stuff out there to embarrass you. Yet, you've come to grips with it and still tried to hold your head up.
Fortunately you still have the kids that rode the same bus to call your peers. They’re in the same situation - so they can relate. A band of misfits, or ‘family members’ as I now look back at them as. But on this day that was no longer the case, as now I found myself lower than them. Everything we owned was piled there half on the sidewalk, and half in the street and seemingly the entire world was now looking at us with disgust - now that’s embarrassment as its defined in my life!
How can a teenager maintain any measurable level of dignity when faced with that type of humiliation before his neighbors, friends, and enemies alike? Already fighting the battle with an abusive alcoholic stepfather, five siblings, and a mom who wasn't around much because she had to work two and sometimes three jobs just to keep our heads barely bobbing above water. I assure you it was already a struggle to find any sign of peace in my life, much less a bit of self-worth in myself.” Embarrassed doesn't even come remotely close to how I felt that afternoon and the days and years that surrounded it.
Then I returned to answer her question; "Am I embarrassed about how I live now?" Ha, I don’t think so! For the first time in my life the description of that experience had come from my lips. I couldn't believe it myself! I've harbored the resentment of that situation for over 30 years – but now it was finally out there. It was like having an evil spirit exorcised from my soul. What a sense of relief! What a sense of release! What a sense of naked vulnerability! Yet somehow, me blurting all that out, seemed to stop the back and forth action in the argument.
I went on to explain that regardless my current circumstances I couldn't see myself returning to a mindset where I would value material possessions over the things that are truly important in life. To have the freedom from the superficial concerns which had possessed me for so much of my adulthood allows me to focus on helping others in need, and it is anything but embarrassing to me. I ended the conversation, (which it had simmered down to at this point) oddly enough by telling her about the embarrassment that Jesus' disciple, Peter must have felt one fateful morning.
After a night of hiding out in his comfort zone (a fishing boat) he came swimming to shore in time to see Jesus, the risen Savior whipping up some breakfast on the beach. Peter hurries over as his eyes must be deceiving him - yet it truly was his master. Then he remembers how he had betrayed Jesus by denying he even knew that “crazy man” from Galilee but not just once - yet denial times three! Then Peter begins to feel embarrassed, after all at the supper table he boldly declared that even if he had to go it alone - he would never forsake his Lord. “Embarrassed” is defined in Peter’s life by this moment. Left feeling stripped naked (not in front of the whole world) but rather before the one that came to save the world.
And here’s the good stuff; Jesus didn't say - Peter, how could you have done me that way? Or, promise me that you won’t lie to me again. Peter, tell me that you won’t deny me before others anymore. Or, Peter, don’t try to make yourself appear to be stronger or bolder than others anymore.
No, he simply asked; Peter do you love me? Peter replied… Jesus asked again; Peter do you love me? Again Peter replied once more… A third time He asked, Peter do you love me?
Peter no longer worried about being embarrassed, for his heart was broken for he knew now Jesus had assuredly forgiven him, even though he didn't deserve it.
Embarrassed that I enthusiastically tell others of God’s amazing love and mercy, (after denying him for so long) - I doubt it!
For if your heart is full of the love, which overflows from His cup, then there’s no room for embarrassment in serving Him.
Then He said unto me, “As for the rest of the embarrassing issues in your life - you simply have to get over them. You can’t afford to maintain those kinds of distractions while serving me.” And I said earnestly in response, “Please give me the strength Lord, to continue moving forward!”
For if a man gains the entire world, yet loses his soul…I suspect the punishment will be much greater than a mere feeling of embarrassment. When you grow up with nothing quite often as an adult we over-indulge our selves with stuff to make ourselves feel better. To trick ourselves into thinking we have broken free from our past, from poverty, from our nothingness. Yet, all along we're simply allowing ourselves to be bound by something even greater in power than poverty.
Many of you have been through situations that are so much worse than mere "embarrassing" moments in your life - things I can't even imagine having to deal with. Thus I never complain about my life! I'll never compare by hurt, my problems, my experiences to what anyone else has gone through, because I know I've been blessed from birth to escape real pain, real hardships. Yet, what I learned through this situation can apply to each and every one of us, for its not based on my strength or yours, its based solely on His strength to see us through all the tough times in our lives.
Holding on to embarrassment and other such negative feelings is just another way the Enemy attacks us, and keeps us from reaching our true potential in Christ. Trust in Jesus to see you through the most trying of circumstances!
Your brother in Christ, Doug
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