The internet. Ten years ago, I had never heard of it. Now I can’t imagine what it would be like to live without it. Back in the dark ages it used to be cool to come home from work and find a letter or postcard in my mailbox. But today, I get lots of mail and the mailbox is my computer. I don’t have to drive to the mall to shop—I can log into amazon.com and select books until my debit card cries for mercy! I even find myself using the reference room at the library less and less because many of the same tools are available to me just by turning on my iBook. I can save money on my phone bill by instant messaging my friends who are away at college. To show you how far this computer thing has come, I don’t even have a thermometer outside my window anymore—my computer is in constant contact with the National Weather Service and constantly displays the up-to-date weather conditions in my menu bar.
As much as I love technology, I have to be honest with you. It’s amazing to me that any of it works. You gotta hand it to the people who write the computer code that make all these neat programs. I don’t have the aptitude for that kind of job, but I wish I did sometimes—a good code writer makes around $70,000 a year. That’s not to say that they have it easy. They’re highly skilled, and have to put in a lot of twelve, sixteen-hour days staring at a monitor.
I just read a story about a shrewd programmer in San Francisco who had his fill of the grind. So he outsourced his job to a guy in India. He e-mails India the instructions in the morning; India e-mails him the code back in the evening. So this programmer has cut his day down from sixteen hours to around two. He just needs to check the Indian’s code and communicate with his boss. He’s happy—he pulls $70,000 a year for working ten hours a week; the guy that actually does the work is happy because he gets a $10,000 cut, which is about eighteen times what the average per capita income is in India. Is this an example of a good work ethic? No. But you got to admit, we all get a kick out of stories where someone who pulls one over on the boss.
It wasn’t any different in Jesus’ day. Slaves outnumbered free men in the Roman Empire and a lot of jokes and yarns revolved around the theme of the ignorant boss getting his comeuppance by a peon. Even Jesus was known to tell a funny story now and then:
Jesus told his disciples: "There was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions. So he called him in and asked him, 'What is this I hear about you? Give an account of your management, because you cannot be manager any longer.'
"The manager said to himself, 'What shall I do now? My master is taking away my job. I'm not strong enough to dig, and I'm ashamed to beg—I know what I'll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.'
"So he called in each one of his master's debtors. He asked the first, 'How much do you owe my master?'
" 'Eight hundred gallons of olive oil,' he replied.
"The manager told him, 'Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it four hundred.'
"Then he asked the second, 'And how much do you owe?'
" 'A thousand bushels of wheat,' he replied.
"He told him, 'Take your bill and make it eight hundred.'
"The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light.” (Luke 16: 1 –8)
The parable of the dishonest manager. People say this is the most confusing parable of all. In fact, Saint Augustine dismissed it entirely saying, “I can’t believe this story came from the lips of our Lord.” Why do people have such a hard time with this parable? It may become apparent if I retell the story in a contemporary setting, with my apoligies.
There’s this guy that’s so rich he doesn’t even have to manage his own affairs. What he doesn’t know is that while he’s away in North Carolina golfing, the flunky he hired as his operations manager is just blowing his money. He’s buying new furniture for his office, he’s taking lots of business lunches and trips, and he’s driving around an expense new company car. That night when the rich guy is relaxing in the clubhouse, one of his friends from up north clues him in to what’s going on back at home. The rich guy whips out his cell phone and reads the manager the riot act. He tells him he’s gonna catch the first flight out on Monday and he’s going to personally audit the books.
This is bad news for the flunky. He can’t imagine having to actually work for a living in a factory. So he thinks, well, maybe I can make a good impression of some of the clients and maybe one of them will hire me. So he goes to the clients and rewrites their contracts—let’s ‘em off the hook at just 50 cents on the dollar. He’s a pretty popular guy all the sudden. And there are a lot less overdue accounts.
His boss comes back into town and checks the books. Everything looks good. And he’s like, oh, my mistake, I thought the company was making more than we are. Forget I said anything. And he gives the flunky a day off with pay. All that’s missing in this parable is a drummer hitting a rimshot.
But that retelling illustrates why people sometimes have a hard time with this parable? The main character is a slacker and a crook. And he comes out on top! The question that people have struggled with down through church history has been what in the world is the point of the story? Because it can almost seem as if Jesus is saying get ahead by being dishonest.
Of course that’s not consistent with what we know of Jesus’ character and his other teachings in the Bible. I think the real key is in verse eight: The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. The point he’s trying to get across is that worldly people are keener and more creative about accumulating wealth that than God’s people are about building His kingdom. The flunky was in a bad situation, but he turned it around and assured himself a good future. What are we doing as followers of Christ to influence our present situations towards the kind of future that God intends?
I kept stumbling over the word shrewd, so I looked it up in the dictionary to make sure I had a precise definition. Here’s what I found: Characterized by keen awareness, sharp intelligence, and often a sense of the practical. Those aren’t bad qualities to possess! Jesus continues on:
I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings "Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. So if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with true riches? And if you have not been trustworthy with someone else's property, who will give you property of your own? (Luke 16: 9 – 12)
When we sit down as a family to dinner, someone prays the blessing. Usually it’s my son. Sometimes we forget to pray all together, sometimes the prayer is heartfelt, sometimes an outside observer would assume that our prayer is just some kind of minor superstition that we observe out of habit. But there’s a real point to saying grace, even if it gets glossed over sometimes in our rush to diminish our hunger—everything that we have is a gift from God. There have been other religions that believed they had to placate the Gods to insure that they would have what they need, but the God as revealed in the Gospels provides for me even when I’m unaware of my needs. I’m very much the beneficiary of God’s property.
How am I managing it? What am I doing with my paycheck, and my skills, and my possessions, and my influence? Am I a flunkie, reckless and wasteful with my boss’ stuff? Or am I being trustworthy as evidenced by how I use everything I’ve been given to serve the people around me, and to bit-by-bit refashion the world into something a little more like God intended.
"No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money." (Luke 16: 13)
When I was first married I had to work a bunch of part-time jobs to pay rent. Sometimes both bosses would want me to work on the same day at the same time. I’d have to choose between the two. Let me tell ya, it’s not easy trying to keep two different bosses happy. It’s so much better to just have one commitment.
It’s not just our work schedule that we have to prioritize. Everyday we have to decide if we’re going to be more devoted to the Creator or created things. Because it’s going to make a difference in the kind of people we are. In turn, it’s going to make a difference in the kind of world we live in.
Henri Nouwen was a Catholic Priest who left a teaching career at Harvard to work at a community where people with developmental disabilities live with assistants. Here are his musings on where we should invest our energy:
“Our lives as we live them seem like lives that anticipate questions that never will be asked. It seems as if we are getting ourselves ready for the question ‘How much did you earn during your lifetime?’ or ‘How many friends did you make?’ or ‘How much progress did you make in your career?’ or ‘How much influence did you have on people?’ or ‘How many conversions did you make?’
“Were any of these to be the question Christ will ask when he comes again in glory, many of us could approach the judgment day with great confidence. But nobody is going to hear any of these questions. The question we all are going to face is the question we are least prepared for. It is: ‘What have you done for the least of mine?’ As long as there are strangers; hungry, naked, and sick people; prisoners, refugees, and slaves; people who are handicapped physically, mentally, or emotionally; people without work, a home, or a piece of land, there will be that haunting question from the throne of judgment: ‘What have you done for the least of mine?’”
In just a few short years, the internet went from a novelty item to a necessity. You’d better believe that if I had the gift of foresight I would have invested my money in amazon.com or Yahoo. Christ told a weird story to a group of religious people to give them insight into where to invest their lives. And the story still speaks to us today.
The future isn’t in stuff. It’s in God’s Kingdom. And we’re being trustworthy when we use the things God blesses us with to provide for those less fortunate than ourselves.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Monday, September 13, 2004
Whatever happened to Geranimals?
Geranimals made my style conflicts disappear when I was an early elementary girl with pigtails and a bounce in my step. I could look into my closet and know that the lion shirt would match the lion pants, skirt and jeans with the little lion emblem on the back pocket. How simple dressing for school used to be! Today we need Clinton and Stacie from TLC"s "What not to Wear", to assure us if we match and are stylish enough for the office. Back in the day - all I needed were my clothes from Sears with the Geranimals animals and I was a regular fashion diva!
I was in the middle of school clothes shopping for my 11 and 7 year olds when I remembered the beautiful simplicity of Geranimals wear. I think my Mom used to buy me several interchangeable Geranimal outfits, along with new underwear, T-shirts, socks and shoes and boom - school shopping was done.
Nowadays things like school shopping are not so simple.
I hit the end of summer sales with my pre-teen daughter and this was a successful trip. By the time we scoured through 4 stores and endless clearance racks, we managed to buy some basics as well as some essential pieces for the fall. It came to my understanding that every girl in middle America has to own a poncho this fall. Luckily, we found one at Sears (gasp!) that fit both my budget and my daughters fashion sense. Child number one - 65% shopped for.
Child number two is generally really easy to shop for. I think it's because when you're shopping for boys jeans and you aren't sure of the size, you can find those jeans with the half elastic that hold them up if they are a little big or stretch if they are a little small. Truth be told after a summer of running, playing and growing I came to find out ( after buying clothes by educated guesses) that they don't make half elastic jeans for boys larger than a size 8. They do make half or husky jeans - but the sizing is so random it is almost impossible to shop for a child without them trying everything on. So after finding almost everything I needed for child one, I was disappointed when everything I had purchased for child #2 was grossly over-big. I had to return every last item and go home empty-handed for child #2.
For the next few weeks, I enlisted help from my family and friends. "My son will have no jeans to wear to school if you don't help me find an 8 1/2 or 10 1/2." My mother in law, who is a great blessing to me, found a track suit that fit my son. But even with her years of shopping savvy behind her, there were no jeans for my little guy to be found. So for the lack of geranimals, I resolved to purchase several sweat suits that my seven-year-old could ram around the second grade in, and I found two sweat suits he could wear to school.
About a week later, a friend of mine gave me some hand me downs from her son. I was pumped because I knew there had to be some perfect size 10's in those two white bags of clothes. I tore into the bags, sorted out the jeans, had my son try every pair only to find that out of fifteen pairs of jeans, only one or two fit.
What is Mom of two growing kids to do?
I wasn't sure, so I went shopping for socks, T-shirts, and underwear.
For those of you that don't have kids, the underwear and school supply shopping is the very last bit of school shopping that most parents do. I don't know why we don't shop for underwear first, but that is just the way it's done. In the midst of getting my daughter and son's finals shopped for I decided to take on last look in the boys section of Kmart and Walmart. To my great dismay, all of the 1/2 sizes were gone, and I was having to come to terms with sending my son to school on the first day as a phys-ed teacher.
As I took one last look at the boys clothes, my eyes scanned a rack of summer jeans that I hadn't noticed before. The jeans were on sale and hidden between the 7's and the 18 1/2' s was a pair of 8 1/2 tan jeans. My son wasn't with me to try them on but before anyone could say husky - the jeans were in my cart. The last five minutes of school shopping was a blur to me.
It suddenly seems that every item that I needed was right in front of me. Two more pair of jeans with a wallet and chain attached (another must have - only for all middle american boys) A shirt that had "Brazil" printed on it and a plaid button down shirt that matched the tan jeans all piled into my happy little school shopping cart. School shopping was now complete.
My 11 year old looked really cool on the first day of school. She wore a red angled skirt, red and black rock-n-roll T-shirt, black poncho, thick black belt and Chuck Taylor hi-tops. I think she felt confident as she walked into school for the first day.
My 7 year old also looked great for day one of second grade. He wore black baggy jean with the wallet and chain, the "Brazil" shirt, and his new Reebok sneakers.
We all like to make a good impression on the first day of school. Even seven year old boys like to look "cool". I just wonder why Geranimals aren't cool for kids to wear anymore? Kids feel this pressure to dress in name brand sneakers and hoodies today, when I was proud to have picked out my outfit and match all in the same day. Maybe it was a simpler time, but I miss something about the ease of that childhood moment.
After all the fuss of getting first day outfits together, we have settled into the second week of school and my kids aren't thinking so much about what they're going to wear, but if they got their homework done and the book bags ready for the next day. So far, my daughter's favorite piece of new clothing is a zip up hoodie with electric guitars on the front and my son's is (you guessed it) his red sweat suit. Simplicity of dressing isn't only something that I enjoyed as an elementary school kid, I think it's something kids still desire today. If only I wasn't so easily caught up in my own standards for brand names it's possible that they might still make Geranimals for me to wear. Let's see, do I want to wear the yellow lion or the orange tiger to school tomorrow? Cheers Geranimals, I'll be missing you every time I go back to school shopping.
I was in the middle of school clothes shopping for my 11 and 7 year olds when I remembered the beautiful simplicity of Geranimals wear. I think my Mom used to buy me several interchangeable Geranimal outfits, along with new underwear, T-shirts, socks and shoes and boom - school shopping was done.
Nowadays things like school shopping are not so simple.
I hit the end of summer sales with my pre-teen daughter and this was a successful trip. By the time we scoured through 4 stores and endless clearance racks, we managed to buy some basics as well as some essential pieces for the fall. It came to my understanding that every girl in middle America has to own a poncho this fall. Luckily, we found one at Sears (gasp!) that fit both my budget and my daughters fashion sense. Child number one - 65% shopped for.
Child number two is generally really easy to shop for. I think it's because when you're shopping for boys jeans and you aren't sure of the size, you can find those jeans with the half elastic that hold them up if they are a little big or stretch if they are a little small. Truth be told after a summer of running, playing and growing I came to find out ( after buying clothes by educated guesses) that they don't make half elastic jeans for boys larger than a size 8. They do make half or husky jeans - but the sizing is so random it is almost impossible to shop for a child without them trying everything on. So after finding almost everything I needed for child one, I was disappointed when everything I had purchased for child #2 was grossly over-big. I had to return every last item and go home empty-handed for child #2.
For the next few weeks, I enlisted help from my family and friends. "My son will have no jeans to wear to school if you don't help me find an 8 1/2 or 10 1/2." My mother in law, who is a great blessing to me, found a track suit that fit my son. But even with her years of shopping savvy behind her, there were no jeans for my little guy to be found. So for the lack of geranimals, I resolved to purchase several sweat suits that my seven-year-old could ram around the second grade in, and I found two sweat suits he could wear to school.
About a week later, a friend of mine gave me some hand me downs from her son. I was pumped because I knew there had to be some perfect size 10's in those two white bags of clothes. I tore into the bags, sorted out the jeans, had my son try every pair only to find that out of fifteen pairs of jeans, only one or two fit.
What is Mom of two growing kids to do?
I wasn't sure, so I went shopping for socks, T-shirts, and underwear.
For those of you that don't have kids, the underwear and school supply shopping is the very last bit of school shopping that most parents do. I don't know why we don't shop for underwear first, but that is just the way it's done. In the midst of getting my daughter and son's finals shopped for I decided to take on last look in the boys section of Kmart and Walmart. To my great dismay, all of the 1/2 sizes were gone, and I was having to come to terms with sending my son to school on the first day as a phys-ed teacher.
As I took one last look at the boys clothes, my eyes scanned a rack of summer jeans that I hadn't noticed before. The jeans were on sale and hidden between the 7's and the 18 1/2' s was a pair of 8 1/2 tan jeans. My son wasn't with me to try them on but before anyone could say husky - the jeans were in my cart. The last five minutes of school shopping was a blur to me.
It suddenly seems that every item that I needed was right in front of me. Two more pair of jeans with a wallet and chain attached (another must have - only for all middle american boys) A shirt that had "Brazil" printed on it and a plaid button down shirt that matched the tan jeans all piled into my happy little school shopping cart. School shopping was now complete.
My 11 year old looked really cool on the first day of school. She wore a red angled skirt, red and black rock-n-roll T-shirt, black poncho, thick black belt and Chuck Taylor hi-tops. I think she felt confident as she walked into school for the first day.
My 7 year old also looked great for day one of second grade. He wore black baggy jean with the wallet and chain, the "Brazil" shirt, and his new Reebok sneakers.
We all like to make a good impression on the first day of school. Even seven year old boys like to look "cool". I just wonder why Geranimals aren't cool for kids to wear anymore? Kids feel this pressure to dress in name brand sneakers and hoodies today, when I was proud to have picked out my outfit and match all in the same day. Maybe it was a simpler time, but I miss something about the ease of that childhood moment.
After all the fuss of getting first day outfits together, we have settled into the second week of school and my kids aren't thinking so much about what they're going to wear, but if they got their homework done and the book bags ready for the next day. So far, my daughter's favorite piece of new clothing is a zip up hoodie with electric guitars on the front and my son's is (you guessed it) his red sweat suit. Simplicity of dressing isn't only something that I enjoyed as an elementary school kid, I think it's something kids still desire today. If only I wasn't so easily caught up in my own standards for brand names it's possible that they might still make Geranimals for me to wear. Let's see, do I want to wear the yellow lion or the orange tiger to school tomorrow? Cheers Geranimals, I'll be missing you every time I go back to school shopping.
inFATuated
Today is a holiday, but it's not on any calendar, except the one on my Palm Pilot. Today is D-day. "D" stands for diet, and September 13, 2004 is the day I weigh myself and reflect on my accomplishments. I began my diet and exercise program on May 13 with a goal of getting down to 260 pounds.
No, that's not a typo. My goal was to drop down to 260 pounds, which should give you an indication what a tub-o-lard I am. The day I started my diet I weighed 303 scale-crushing pounds. So let me go find out where I'm at today...
[Like a battleship launching itself out of port, I.F. lurches his considerable bulk across an ocean of carpet. His destination: The Scale Islands.]
Okay. I'm back. I missed my goal, but I did drop 28 lbs. to 275 lbs. Which is pretty good, because I gave up on the whole diet thing at the beginning of July. (The weight loss clinic I signed up with closed it's doors a few weeks after I joined. It's as if they took one look at me and decided they weren't up for the challenge.)
I planned to write a lot of funny stuff in this paragraph, because I assumed that I had gained all my weight back, but I can't think of anything funny to write about losing 28 lbs.
So what did I learn from this experience?
That's it for my D-day reflections. I'm off to eat an ice-cream sandwich!
No, that's not a typo. My goal was to drop down to 260 pounds, which should give you an indication what a tub-o-lard I am. The day I started my diet I weighed 303 scale-crushing pounds. So let me go find out where I'm at today...
[Like a battleship launching itself out of port, I.F. lurches his considerable bulk across an ocean of carpet. His destination: The Scale Islands.]
Okay. I'm back. I missed my goal, but I did drop 28 lbs. to 275 lbs. Which is pretty good, because I gave up on the whole diet thing at the beginning of July. (The weight loss clinic I signed up with closed it's doors a few weeks after I joined. It's as if they took one look at me and decided they weren't up for the challenge.)
I planned to write a lot of funny stuff in this paragraph, because I assumed that I had gained all my weight back, but I can't think of anything funny to write about losing 28 lbs.
So what did I learn from this experience?
- I learned that I am a fat, fat man, because only a fat, fat man would be pleased that he was weighing in at only 275 lbs.
- I still lost 28 lbs. even though I only gave the diet a halfhearted effort. Makes me kind of wish I had stuck it out.
- My self-esteem is tied to my weight. When I thought I had gained all my weight back I felt awful. When the needle on the scale pointed to 275 I felt like a smokin' hot stud.
That's it for my D-day reflections. I'm off to eat an ice-cream sandwich!
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Know, My Name Is Lost
In a country of over 294 million people, it stands to reason that a few of them would get misplaced now and then. The FBI alone maintains approximately 800,000 missing person files. To put that number in perspective, imagine that there wasn’t one single soul in all of Chautauqua County. Then imagine five counties of the same size, all deserted. It’s a mind-boggling exercise. My calculator tells me that, on average, 1 person out of every 400 goes missing.
But the loss isn’t really something that you measure by numbers, because how could you ever count the tears shed or the number of sleepless nights experienced by anguished families, desperate for a glimpse of a loved one who has, for all intents and purposes, simply vanished? Missing persons. There’s something about the very nature of that kind of loss with which we can all empathize.
A month ago very few people in Jamestown had ever heard the name Yolanda Bindics, but she’s on all our minds very much these days. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her and her children. Even the most cynical among us hope that our darkest suspicions or fears will be proven wrong, that the whole thing will turn out to be some simple misunderstanding. Imagine the joy that would spill over this town.
Can it really be true that 800,000 people are nowhere to be found? And if it’s really possible that children, mothers, brothers and friends from anywhere can go missing, is it possible that I can be lost?
The religious elite thought Jesus had lost his mind. It was the only explanation for what they saw before them. Yesterday Jesus had been a guest at their banquet—didn’t that ignorant carpenter realize what an honor it was to be among great teachers and philosophers? Apparently not, because he had behaved like an ill-mannered oaf. And now just look at the winners he’s having dinner with tonight…
Now the tax collectors and "sinners" were all gathering around to hear him. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." (Luke 15: 1 – 2)
Good religious people would have never been seen with the motley crew that had assembled around Jesus, let alone eat with them! A tax-collector was a traitor, after all. And sinners weren’t just guilty of breaking the moral law—they had no regard whatsoever for ritual purity either. If you risked sharing a corner booth at Applebee’s with this bunch of lowlifes, chances are you’d end up consuming some “untithed food.” To the Pharisees, Jesus was doing something completely irresponsible for someone who claimed to be so godly: by sharing a table with those kinds of people, he was demonstrating that he accepted them. And that was a crazy thing to imply—there was even a popular saying in those days that went there will be joy in heaven over one sinner who is obliterated before God.
In response to their grumblings, Jesus sets down his cheeseburger and tells them a few stories about things that are lost and things that are found.
Then Jesus told them this parable: "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. (Luke 15: 3 – 7)
Some parables are easier to figure out than others. This is one of the easy ones. The Shepherd is God, the lost sheep is a person who has a spiritual awakening, and the friends and neighbors are God’s people. But don’t let the parable’s simplicity throw you—this short little story conveyed a Copernican shift in the understanding of God’s nature to the people listening.
Even if the religious elite bickered about just what exactly constituted repentance, they did have a concept of God’s forgiveness for the repentant. But Jesus talked about a God who wasn’t content to sit around and wait for the repentant to come groveling to him—he diligently sought out the lost to bring them into his kingdom! Just in case they don’t get it, he takes a swig of Mountain Dew and then sort of repeats himself:
"Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” (Luke 15: 8 – 10)
It makes perfect sense that a poor woman is going to look for some misplaced money, just as it’s easy to comprehend why a shepherd would search for a helpless lamb. But the most religious people of all were completely perplexed as to why Jesus would break bread with some people who had become lost in the shuffle of life. The Pharisees’ piousness had become a barrier that separated them from the very people who were in the most desperate need of finding God.
There are as many different ways of being lost as there are people. Just like a sheep, some people wander away through simple ignorance. Others are like the coin that goes astray through the carelessness of others. But in the end it doesn’t really matter where a person went adrift or what the circumstances were that set them upon that course. What’s important is that God hasn’t given up on them.
A flock isn’t whole when there’s even one sheep missing. A person isn’t financially secure when she’s missing a coin. And God’s kingdom isn’t complete while there are still missing persons.
But the loss isn’t really something that you measure by numbers, because how could you ever count the tears shed or the number of sleepless nights experienced by anguished families, desperate for a glimpse of a loved one who has, for all intents and purposes, simply vanished? Missing persons. There’s something about the very nature of that kind of loss with which we can all empathize.
A month ago very few people in Jamestown had ever heard the name Yolanda Bindics, but she’s on all our minds very much these days. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her and her children. Even the most cynical among us hope that our darkest suspicions or fears will be proven wrong, that the whole thing will turn out to be some simple misunderstanding. Imagine the joy that would spill over this town.
Can it really be true that 800,000 people are nowhere to be found? And if it’s really possible that children, mothers, brothers and friends from anywhere can go missing, is it possible that I can be lost?
The religious elite thought Jesus had lost his mind. It was the only explanation for what they saw before them. Yesterday Jesus had been a guest at their banquet—didn’t that ignorant carpenter realize what an honor it was to be among great teachers and philosophers? Apparently not, because he had behaved like an ill-mannered oaf. And now just look at the winners he’s having dinner with tonight…
Now the tax collectors and "sinners" were all gathering around to hear him. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." (Luke 15: 1 – 2)
Good religious people would have never been seen with the motley crew that had assembled around Jesus, let alone eat with them! A tax-collector was a traitor, after all. And sinners weren’t just guilty of breaking the moral law—they had no regard whatsoever for ritual purity either. If you risked sharing a corner booth at Applebee’s with this bunch of lowlifes, chances are you’d end up consuming some “untithed food.” To the Pharisees, Jesus was doing something completely irresponsible for someone who claimed to be so godly: by sharing a table with those kinds of people, he was demonstrating that he accepted them. And that was a crazy thing to imply—there was even a popular saying in those days that went there will be joy in heaven over one sinner who is obliterated before God.
In response to their grumblings, Jesus sets down his cheeseburger and tells them a few stories about things that are lost and things that are found.
Then Jesus told them this parable: "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. (Luke 15: 3 – 7)
Some parables are easier to figure out than others. This is one of the easy ones. The Shepherd is God, the lost sheep is a person who has a spiritual awakening, and the friends and neighbors are God’s people. But don’t let the parable’s simplicity throw you—this short little story conveyed a Copernican shift in the understanding of God’s nature to the people listening.
Even if the religious elite bickered about just what exactly constituted repentance, they did have a concept of God’s forgiveness for the repentant. But Jesus talked about a God who wasn’t content to sit around and wait for the repentant to come groveling to him—he diligently sought out the lost to bring them into his kingdom! Just in case they don’t get it, he takes a swig of Mountain Dew and then sort of repeats himself:
"Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” (Luke 15: 8 – 10)
It makes perfect sense that a poor woman is going to look for some misplaced money, just as it’s easy to comprehend why a shepherd would search for a helpless lamb. But the most religious people of all were completely perplexed as to why Jesus would break bread with some people who had become lost in the shuffle of life. The Pharisees’ piousness had become a barrier that separated them from the very people who were in the most desperate need of finding God.
There are as many different ways of being lost as there are people. Just like a sheep, some people wander away through simple ignorance. Others are like the coin that goes astray through the carelessness of others. But in the end it doesn’t really matter where a person went adrift or what the circumstances were that set them upon that course. What’s important is that God hasn’t given up on them.
A flock isn’t whole when there’s even one sheep missing. A person isn’t financially secure when she’s missing a coin. And God’s kingdom isn’t complete while there are still missing persons.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
Quote of the Week: Making an impression...
"Stop trying to impress people with your clothes and impress them with your life." -- Richard J. Foster in his book The Freedom of Simplicity
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Monsters! Cowboys! How Can You Miss?
First-time visitors to Experiment House are always impressed with my large DVD collection. At least, that is, until they get a look at most of the titles, which include:
The Thing With 2 Heads
The Giant Gila Monster
The Killer Shrews
The Abominable Doctor Phibes
Frankenstein Created Woman
While many of our guests are shelling out big bucks for another pointless "two disc special edition" of the latest Hollywood blockbuster, I can spend the same exact money and get two or four pictures from the drive-in era of yesteryear. So although it appears that I’ve put a lien on the house to fill my DVD shelf, that just isn’t the case. I just spend a lot of time slumming it at the $5 bin at Wal-Mart. Where I scored a copy of Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell, by the way!
With everyone else on a shopping excursion this afternoon I popped one of my favorite bad movies in the DVD player: Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter. As you have probably gathered from the title, it’s a part of the James Gang’s story that usually doesn’t make the cut in documentaries on The History Channel.
The title alone is a classic. It sounds more like a parody of a horror film that would have appeared in something like Mad Magazine when it was still funny (meaning not in the last 25 years). But I imagine that the concept sounded pretty promising when this film was made in 1965, given the number of westerns that were glutting the TV airwaves and the popularity of monster magazines and toys on the market at the time. I can imagine a cigar-chomping mogul at “Circle Productions” slapping his head and exclaiming, “Cowboys and Monsters together would be dynamite!!!”
The movie looks and sounds like an old episode of The Cisco Kid, only with lower production values. All the hallmarks of the low-budget film are in evidence, including atrocious day-for-night scenes, actors who stumble on their lines but still make the final edit, and overbearing stock music. My favorite parts were:
The plot, such as it is, concerns Frankenstein’s (grand)daughter's attempts to create a monster for no discernable purpose. She experiments on a guy by putting him in a rainbow-striped helmet with neon tubes and a telsa coil sticking out of it. The 98 lb. weakling pretty much dies instantly. She decides that she needs a stronger body to work with, and into the movie strolls Hank, a member of the James Gang, who is as strong as an ox and unfortunately as dumb as one. That’s the first five minutes. Add in an Indian attack, some gunfights, and the requisite stock western characters and you can probably imagine the rest of the film yourself. Heck, you probably just imagined a much more interesting film that this one.
In its original release it was a double feature with Billy the Kid Versus Dracula. Fortunately the films did poorly enough at the box office that movie going audiences were spared Buffalo Bill Versus The Hunchback of Notre Dame or Annie Oakley Meets The Phantom of The Opera.
The Thing With 2 Heads
The Giant Gila Monster
The Killer Shrews
The Abominable Doctor Phibes
Frankenstein Created Woman
While many of our guests are shelling out big bucks for another pointless "two disc special edition" of the latest Hollywood blockbuster, I can spend the same exact money and get two or four pictures from the drive-in era of yesteryear. So although it appears that I’ve put a lien on the house to fill my DVD shelf, that just isn’t the case. I just spend a lot of time slumming it at the $5 bin at Wal-Mart. Where I scored a copy of Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell, by the way!
With everyone else on a shopping excursion this afternoon I popped one of my favorite bad movies in the DVD player: Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter. As you have probably gathered from the title, it’s a part of the James Gang’s story that usually doesn’t make the cut in documentaries on The History Channel.
The title alone is a classic. It sounds more like a parody of a horror film that would have appeared in something like Mad Magazine when it was still funny (meaning not in the last 25 years). But I imagine that the concept sounded pretty promising when this film was made in 1965, given the number of westerns that were glutting the TV airwaves and the popularity of monster magazines and toys on the market at the time. I can imagine a cigar-chomping mogul at “Circle Productions” slapping his head and exclaiming, “Cowboys and Monsters together would be dynamite!!!”
The movie looks and sounds like an old episode of The Cisco Kid, only with lower production values. All the hallmarks of the low-budget film are in evidence, including atrocious day-for-night scenes, actors who stumble on their lines but still make the final edit, and overbearing stock music. My favorite parts were:
- The inability of the thunder sound effect to be in sync with the lightening.
- Acting so wooden the director could have just dressed up logs in cowboy hats.
- The exterior of Frankenstein’s Castle represented not by a model or even a matte painting, but by a watercolor. And a not-so-great one at that. I'm talkin' paint-by-numbers here!
- An eye-rolling performance by Narda Onyx, who plays Dr. Maria Frankenstein.
The plot, such as it is, concerns Frankenstein’s (grand)daughter's attempts to create a monster for no discernable purpose. She experiments on a guy by putting him in a rainbow-striped helmet with neon tubes and a telsa coil sticking out of it. The 98 lb. weakling pretty much dies instantly. She decides that she needs a stronger body to work with, and into the movie strolls Hank, a member of the James Gang, who is as strong as an ox and unfortunately as dumb as one. That’s the first five minutes. Add in an Indian attack, some gunfights, and the requisite stock western characters and you can probably imagine the rest of the film yourself. Heck, you probably just imagined a much more interesting film that this one.
In its original release it was a double feature with Billy the Kid Versus Dracula. Fortunately the films did poorly enough at the box office that movie going audiences were spared Buffalo Bill Versus The Hunchback of Notre Dame or Annie Oakley Meets The Phantom of The Opera.
Monday, September 06, 2004
That Was The Summer That Was -- Summer 2004
It seems like I was just blogging about how I couldn't believe it was Memorial Day and here it is already Labor Day. The trees are more aware of the calendar than I am -- as we drove home late last night from my mom's house we noticed that fallen leaves were already swirling around the streets of Warren. If that's not enough to convince you that summer is over, today we're driving back to my mom's house to help her take down the swimming pool.
The summer began with me acting in an official capacity for the church. I participated in the parade and Memorial Day ceremonies for Jamestown, NY. Sometimes I think I'm the most untraditional pastor in the whole city, so it was kind of surreal to find myself sitting in a classic car waving at the people lining the streets.
Lamont and I had one of our busiest weekends ever in June. Our denomination does a huge youth retreat every summer and we took a big group of teens from our church. It was a really positive weekend for the kids, and Lamont and I were very proud of the fact that we were able to not just convince "church kids" to participate, but also some young people that we became acquainted with via some social work.
We had no sooner said our amens at the Sunday morning meeting when we had to saddle up our rapidly-dying Neon and drive over a hundred miles to our graduation from Empire State College. We barely made it because we missed a turn and got ourselves lost. I'm not big on ceremony -- as any of my parishioners will readily attest -- and a busy weekend chaperoning youth seemed like as good an excuse as any to miss graduation. But in the end I was so glad I went. Even though I had already received my diploma in the mail, I didn't really have a sense of closure until I put on the robe and walked across the stage.
Our afternoon with Empire State College was only the first of many graduations that we marked in the month of June. We had two celebrations for the price of one during our week spent in New Jersey. One of parishioners graduated from a school of youth ministry, another was ordained as a pastor. Although things have been quite crazy as of late, Lamont and I consoled ourselves that our church must be doing something right, because neither of the graduates grew up in church or came from families that were particularly religious.
The end of the month saw four members of our church graduate from high school. It just doesn't seem possible -- it seems like yesterday that they were all timid little kids tiptoeing around the "big kids" in youth group. Now they're adults.
In between carting kids back and forth to camping sessions, we were able to sneak in a week of vacation together. It was nice -- sometimes you don't realize how much you need a break until you stop. Highlights included Old Fort Niagara, The Castellani Art Museum, and Genesee County Village and Museum.
Mr. X finally returned from his four-year stint with Wings Over the World. It was great to hang out together for most of July and August before he moved away to college, a whole hour away!!!
The end of July found Lamont and I at the retirement party for our beloved college mentor. P-- was an amazing instructor in a college known for its excellence in teaching, and we can't imagine what our education would have been like without her. Our prayers go with her as she goes on to write the Great American Novel.
The highlight of August was Teen Camp in Penn Yan, NY. Gathering a group of 90 teens in the middle of nowhere for five days without cable TV sounds like a recipe for disaster, but God made it so much more than that. People always say that the teenage years are the best years of a person's life, but I will contend to my dying day that young people are some of the busiest, most stressed-out people on the planet. Think about it:
It's not so much that the Experiment House crew were these spiritual giants that broke through to the young people as much as the five days of camp allowed them to stop and catch their collective breaths for a few days! The older I get the more convinced I am that God sneaks in while we're exhaling! I'm happy to be a small part of the camp's success.
Oh yeah, we finally replaced the Neon with a Toyata Matrix. Talk about trading up.
Summer 2004. That was the summer that was. Here's to fall!
The summer began with me acting in an official capacity for the church. I participated in the parade and Memorial Day ceremonies for Jamestown, NY. Sometimes I think I'm the most untraditional pastor in the whole city, so it was kind of surreal to find myself sitting in a classic car waving at the people lining the streets.
Lamont and I had one of our busiest weekends ever in June. Our denomination does a huge youth retreat every summer and we took a big group of teens from our church. It was a really positive weekend for the kids, and Lamont and I were very proud of the fact that we were able to not just convince "church kids" to participate, but also some young people that we became acquainted with via some social work.
We had no sooner said our amens at the Sunday morning meeting when we had to saddle up our rapidly-dying Neon and drive over a hundred miles to our graduation from Empire State College. We barely made it because we missed a turn and got ourselves lost. I'm not big on ceremony -- as any of my parishioners will readily attest -- and a busy weekend chaperoning youth seemed like as good an excuse as any to miss graduation. But in the end I was so glad I went. Even though I had already received my diploma in the mail, I didn't really have a sense of closure until I put on the robe and walked across the stage.
Our afternoon with Empire State College was only the first of many graduations that we marked in the month of June. We had two celebrations for the price of one during our week spent in New Jersey. One of parishioners graduated from a school of youth ministry, another was ordained as a pastor. Although things have been quite crazy as of late, Lamont and I consoled ourselves that our church must be doing something right, because neither of the graduates grew up in church or came from families that were particularly religious.
The end of the month saw four members of our church graduate from high school. It just doesn't seem possible -- it seems like yesterday that they were all timid little kids tiptoeing around the "big kids" in youth group. Now they're adults.
In between carting kids back and forth to camping sessions, we were able to sneak in a week of vacation together. It was nice -- sometimes you don't realize how much you need a break until you stop. Highlights included Old Fort Niagara, The Castellani Art Museum, and Genesee County Village and Museum.
Mr. X finally returned from his four-year stint with Wings Over the World. It was great to hang out together for most of July and August before he moved away to college, a whole hour away!!!
The end of July found Lamont and I at the retirement party for our beloved college mentor. P-- was an amazing instructor in a college known for its excellence in teaching, and we can't imagine what our education would have been like without her. Our prayers go with her as she goes on to write the Great American Novel.
The highlight of August was Teen Camp in Penn Yan, NY. Gathering a group of 90 teens in the middle of nowhere for five days without cable TV sounds like a recipe for disaster, but God made it so much more than that. People always say that the teenage years are the best years of a person's life, but I will contend to my dying day that young people are some of the busiest, most stressed-out people on the planet. Think about it:
- They have to maintain good performance in school
- They work
- They volunteer
- They participate in extracurricular activities
- They maintain an active social life
- They are at a point where they have to make big decisions (school, dating, etc.) that will have a huge impact on who they will become
It's not so much that the Experiment House crew were these spiritual giants that broke through to the young people as much as the five days of camp allowed them to stop and catch their collective breaths for a few days! The older I get the more convinced I am that God sneaks in while we're exhaling! I'm happy to be a small part of the camp's success.
Oh yeah, we finally replaced the Neon with a Toyata Matrix. Talk about trading up.
Summer 2004. That was the summer that was. Here's to fall!
Saturday, September 04, 2004
Made-For-TV Madness
When I talk horror films with other enthusiasts I always feel the need to point out that my interest in the genre wanes after the early seventies, when Christopher Lee hung up his cape and Leatherface picked up his chainsaw. Give me a Hammer or Universal film any day -- I wouldn't stop channel surfing for a moment to pause on Linda Blair puking green bile. I'd rather sit through the worst fifties movie that the gang at MST3K could dish up versus Jason hacking up camp counselors because they weren't virgins. (What's up with that recurring theme in slasher flicks anyhow?)
Although antichrists and psychotics crowded vampires and werewolves off of movie marquees seemingly overnight, any true-blue horror fan knows that no true monster stays dead forever. Instead the real fun horror made it to television in the 1970s. And thanks to the space-age miracle of the digital video disc, I can cook me up a Tony's pizza, put on a pair of corduroys, warm up the cathode ray tube and -- viola -- it's the age of sideburns and Watergate all over again.
I walked into my local Best Buy the other day fully intending to buy one of their exclusive Midnite Movies Double Features, but found myself at the checkout line instead with a double-shot of Darren McGavin. The Night Stalker/The Night Strangler were two highly rated TV Movies of the Week that were precursors to the show Kolchak: The Night Stalker.
I still scan the Sci-Fi Channel listings for the odd screening of the classic monster-of-the-week show. Although the series is still fondly remembered by baby boomers today, I have to admit that the TV movies just do the concept much better justice. In The Night Stalker, Carl Kolchak is a down-on-his-luck newspaper reporter who comes across a vampire in contemporary Las Vegas. In The Night Strangler, he matches wits with a century and a half old murderer in the underground ruins of Seattle.
The movies look gorgeous on DVD, especially considering their low-budget origins. Both films have their share of shocks, and Darren McGavin, playing the perpetual underdog, brings a fun sense of humor to the whole thing. Some of his lines were so funny that I almost squirted milk out my nose, which should give you an indication as to how hilarious they were because I wasn't even drinking milk at the time. Considering the double feature only set me back $9.99 at Best Buy, I feel pretty safe in recommending it to any horror fan.
Next up is a journey not only into sight and sound, but of mind... Er, well, almost. The Night Gallery (1970 - 1973) was Rod Serling's follow-up to The Twilight Zone. Season One -- plus the 1969 pilot movie -- is now out on DVD. I've enjoyed browsing through the gallery again, reliving so many nightmares of my childhood: dead men crawling out of graves... a killer doll... and strange paintings. I was pretty young when this show originally aired, so I'm amazed that I remember so much of it.
This is going to sound really weird, but the seventies setting really works against the show. Even though he says submitted for your approval just like he did in Twilight Zone, I just couldn't quite get used to seeing Rod Serling in living color, with sideburns and a groovy hairdo. It's the same feeling you get when you run into a coworker outside of the workplace, and they're wearing a pair of ratty jeans and a Rush t-shirt. I just couldn't shake the feeling that Rod had accidentally wandered into The Twilight Zone by accident on his day off.
One episode in particular suffers from seventies-itis... "They're Tearing Down Old Riley's Bar" is a gentle fantasy that would have been one of the classic black and white Twilight Zones. Touching story. Great acting. But I found it hard to take the dramatics seriously when they were delivered by a guy wearing a giant wide tie to a girl in a polka-dot mini dress. Sometimes the scariest thing about Night Gallery is the clothes! It got me thinking -- were all clothes in the seventies that ugly? Browsing through my childhood photos, I'd have to say YES!
My verdict? I'd pay my admission to the Night Gallery just for the nostalgia value alone. That said, while the show delivers some great moments, it's a little too inconsistent in quality compared to its big brother to win many new fans. But people wanting to relive their childhood should have no trouble shelling out the $40-$50 bucks to own the series on DVD.
The fun horror celebrated by magazines like Famous Monsters of Filmland didn't completely die out in the seventies. It just moved to the boob tube. I think I need to make another shopping excursion to Best Buy. I'll pass right by the axe-wielding psychopaths and demon-possessed killers. (But enough about the clerks...) I'll dig through the shelves to see if I can find some more made-for-TV madness like Gargoyles, Trilogy of Terror or Don't Be Afraid of The Dark!
Although antichrists and psychotics crowded vampires and werewolves off of movie marquees seemingly overnight, any true-blue horror fan knows that no true monster stays dead forever. Instead the real fun horror made it to television in the 1970s. And thanks to the space-age miracle of the digital video disc, I can cook me up a Tony's pizza, put on a pair of corduroys, warm up the cathode ray tube and -- viola -- it's the age of sideburns and Watergate all over again.
I walked into my local Best Buy the other day fully intending to buy one of their exclusive Midnite Movies Double Features, but found myself at the checkout line instead with a double-shot of Darren McGavin. The Night Stalker/The Night Strangler were two highly rated TV Movies of the Week that were precursors to the show Kolchak: The Night Stalker.
I still scan the Sci-Fi Channel listings for the odd screening of the classic monster-of-the-week show. Although the series is still fondly remembered by baby boomers today, I have to admit that the TV movies just do the concept much better justice. In The Night Stalker, Carl Kolchak is a down-on-his-luck newspaper reporter who comes across a vampire in contemporary Las Vegas. In The Night Strangler, he matches wits with a century and a half old murderer in the underground ruins of Seattle.
The movies look gorgeous on DVD, especially considering their low-budget origins. Both films have their share of shocks, and Darren McGavin, playing the perpetual underdog, brings a fun sense of humor to the whole thing. Some of his lines were so funny that I almost squirted milk out my nose, which should give you an indication as to how hilarious they were because I wasn't even drinking milk at the time. Considering the double feature only set me back $9.99 at Best Buy, I feel pretty safe in recommending it to any horror fan.
Next up is a journey not only into sight and sound, but of mind... Er, well, almost. The Night Gallery (1970 - 1973) was Rod Serling's follow-up to The Twilight Zone. Season One -- plus the 1969 pilot movie -- is now out on DVD. I've enjoyed browsing through the gallery again, reliving so many nightmares of my childhood: dead men crawling out of graves... a killer doll... and strange paintings. I was pretty young when this show originally aired, so I'm amazed that I remember so much of it.
This is going to sound really weird, but the seventies setting really works against the show. Even though he says submitted for your approval just like he did in Twilight Zone, I just couldn't quite get used to seeing Rod Serling in living color, with sideburns and a groovy hairdo. It's the same feeling you get when you run into a coworker outside of the workplace, and they're wearing a pair of ratty jeans and a Rush t-shirt. I just couldn't shake the feeling that Rod had accidentally wandered into The Twilight Zone by accident on his day off.
One episode in particular suffers from seventies-itis... "They're Tearing Down Old Riley's Bar" is a gentle fantasy that would have been one of the classic black and white Twilight Zones. Touching story. Great acting. But I found it hard to take the dramatics seriously when they were delivered by a guy wearing a giant wide tie to a girl in a polka-dot mini dress. Sometimes the scariest thing about Night Gallery is the clothes! It got me thinking -- were all clothes in the seventies that ugly? Browsing through my childhood photos, I'd have to say YES!
My verdict? I'd pay my admission to the Night Gallery just for the nostalgia value alone. That said, while the show delivers some great moments, it's a little too inconsistent in quality compared to its big brother to win many new fans. But people wanting to relive their childhood should have no trouble shelling out the $40-$50 bucks to own the series on DVD.
The fun horror celebrated by magazines like Famous Monsters of Filmland didn't completely die out in the seventies. It just moved to the boob tube. I think I need to make another shopping excursion to Best Buy. I'll pass right by the axe-wielding psychopaths and demon-possessed killers. (But enough about the clerks...) I'll dig through the shelves to see if I can find some more made-for-TV madness like Gargoyles, Trilogy of Terror or Don't Be Afraid of The Dark!
Friday, September 03, 2004
Today is September 3
I just had something very peculiar happen to me. Have you ever typed your name into the internet just to see what links pop up? I did that this morning. My web page came up, as expected, and also an interview I did a few years ago for a college newspaper. But another result came up that I had never seen before -- a link to a genealogy website.
It was my dad's obituary.
As I read down the obituary, I noticed that he passed away on September 3, 2001 -- exactly three years ago to this day. I'm no mathematician, but I'd venture to say that the odds of this happening are pretty astronomical.
Wow. Three years. I can't believe it's been that long. Do you know that every time I see a red truck drive up our street I still -- just for a moment -- think that it's him coming over to play with the kids?
I miss ya too, dad. I never knew you were so internet savvy.
It was my dad's obituary.
As I read down the obituary, I noticed that he passed away on September 3, 2001 -- exactly three years ago to this day. I'm no mathematician, but I'd venture to say that the odds of this happening are pretty astronomical.
Wow. Three years. I can't believe it's been that long. Do you know that every time I see a red truck drive up our street I still -- just for a moment -- think that it's him coming over to play with the kids?
I miss ya too, dad. I never knew you were so internet savvy.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Read the Fine Print
A vacation should create many happy memories, and usually they do. Even if an afternoon goes a little wrong — let’s say a horrendously bad restaurant — it can become one of those stories that’s funny in retrospect, and therefore still a fairly happy memory. A coworker of mine had an experience that no matter how he looks at it will ever be looked at as a happy memory. In fact, this one experience was so awful, that it forever overshadows the good memories of that vacation.
He had decided to go on a cruise, but he didn’t have a lot of money to spend. He wasn’t encouraged as collected price quotes from different travel agents. But one day he was looking through a travel magazine and came across an ad that was offering cruises for fifty-percent less than the cheapest price he had found. So he booked his cruise and went on vacation.
The weather was beautiful. The food was excellent. He had a nice room. In fact, the vacation itself was exemplary until the very moment that he collected his luggage and was going to disembark. This is otherwise known as the moment he discovered the difference between a cruise and an all-inclusive cruise. In an all-inclusive cruise, he would have paid one price upfront before he ever left home. Instead, he found out at the end he owed a few hundred bucks in port charges (that’s a tax that’s levied every time your boat goes into a harbor). He also didn’t realize that it’s expected to tip the steward, the waiter, and the bus boy each about ten dollars a day.
My friend did eventually make it back on dry land, albeit a thousand bucks lighter. So you can understand why he breaks out into a cold sweat every time a rerun of The Love Boat comes on TV Land. The cruise was enjoyable enough; it just cost him a lot more in the end than he thought it would. His trip is a living illustration of the expression If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
Jesus’ speaking tour has been a huge success. His message of second chances and compassion for the needy has really connected with a demographic that isn’t usually too interested in religion! Standing room only venues… The cover of Time Magazine… He even made the Wired list – they moved John the Baptist to Tired… They put his face on some Jesus is My Homeboy t-shirts. The establishment doesn’t seem too happy with ‘em, but then again, when was the last time the establishment did anything for you? While they’re spending time kissing up to Rome, Jesus is making blind men see, lame people straight, and demon-possessed people free.
Everybody wants to follow this guy. But what they don’t realize is that they’re following a man straight to his execution.
Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters -- yes, even his own life -- he cannot be my disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14: 25 – 27)
Jesus was a carpenter, but personally, I think he would have made an excellent mechanic. He’s not the type to lure you in with a promise of a $12.95 oil change only to tell you that your brakes need replaced. Jesus’ teachings and acts of compassion were the best things that hit that enemy-occupied country in a long time. And people wanted to hang onto him with all their might. But Jesus knew that all too often the dark forces of this world rush in to snuff out whatever rare candle gets to burning. And he wants them to know upfront what they’re really getting themselves into.
Hate his father and mother. What do you suppose he meant by that? It can’t be that he’s suggesting that loyalty to him allows us to be cruel to our family, because Jesus’ ministry was one of compassion. In fact, there’s a story recorded in the Gospel of Saint Mark (chapter 7) where Jesus condemns a practice where a person could donate money or property to the temple and then neglect supporting his parents in their old age. We need to honor our parents. Jesus is using the word hate in an exaggerated way to get his point across, just like in the Sermon on the Mount when he says if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out or if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off.
What he means by the word hate is love less. Some people’s family lives are better than others. Some family bonds are strong, others are tattered. In Israel, family was everything – it was the greatest source of pride – and a person’s loyalty to it was unwavering. Through thick and thin, right or wrong, a person stood with their family. And Jesus says you need that kind of loyalty and then some if you’re ever gonna learn anything from me.
In fact, an uncompromising commitment to following Jesus must be more important to a disciple than his own self-interest and even his own instinct of self-preservation.
I was so ripped at somebody the other day at work. I knew this person needed my help, so I decided that I was going to be as obstinate as possible. But then I remembered that I needed to forgive as the Lord forgave me. So I got off my butt and helped them. So if my grudge gets in the way of following Jesus, the grudge has to go. Whatever it is that gets between me and intimacy with Christ has to go.
"Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' (Luke 14: 28 – 30)
Let’s say you want to fix something up around the house. So you don’t plan anything for Saturday morning, you just go pick up what you need at the hardware store and you get working. You know how it goes, right? Sunday night at 10 ‘o clock you’re still messing around with the project and you’ve had to run to the hardware store three times to pick up more stuff! It’s always going to cost more and take more time than you think it will.
Faith in Christ isn’t a one-time event; Faith in Christ is a daily journey. Some days it’s a wonderful journey, and the winds at my back, and I feel like I can run the whole way straight to heaven. The sky grows dark on other days, and the journey is punishing, the hills almost impossible to climb. That’s why I so appreciate Jesus’ frankness in saying that it’s not always going to be easy, because sometimes the only thing that keeps me trudging on is my stubborn commitment that I’m in this with Jesus for the long haul.
"Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14: 31 – 33)
Pastor David Guzik writes, “In the parable of the tower, Jesus says ‘sit down and see if you can afford to follow me. In the parable of the king, Jesus says ‘sit down and see if you can afford to refuse my demands.’”
Back in the seventies there was a Broadway musical called Your Arm's Too Short to Box With God. What a true statement. He must conquer all to set us truly free. But I’m happy to say from experience that Christ offers highly favorable terms of surrender!
University of Southern California philosphy professor Dallas Willard writes:
In 1937 Dietrich Bonhoeffer gave the world his book The Cost of Discipleship. It was a masterful attack on "easy Christianity" or "cheap grace," but it did not set aside-perhaps it even enforced-the view of discipleship as a costly spiritual excess, and only for those especially driven or called to it. It was right to point out that one cannot be a disciple of Christ without forfeiting things normally sought in human life, and that one who pays little in the world's coinage to bear his name has reason to wonder where he or she stands with God. But the cost of nondiscipleship is far greater -- even when this life alone is considered -- than the price paid to walk with Jesus.
Nondiscipleship costs abiding peace, a life penetrated throughout by love, faith that sees everything in IIw light of God's overriding governance for good, hopefulness that stands firm in the most discouraging of circumstances, power to do what is right and withstand the forces of evil. In short, it costs exactly that abundance of life Jesus said he came to bring (John 10:10). The cross-shaped yoke of Christ is after all an instrument of liberation and power to those who live in it with him and learn the meekness and lowliness of heart that brings rest to the soul. . . . The correct perspective is to see following Christ not only as the necessity it is, but as the fulfillment of the highest human possibilities and as life on the highest plane.
He had decided to go on a cruise, but he didn’t have a lot of money to spend. He wasn’t encouraged as collected price quotes from different travel agents. But one day he was looking through a travel magazine and came across an ad that was offering cruises for fifty-percent less than the cheapest price he had found. So he booked his cruise and went on vacation.
The weather was beautiful. The food was excellent. He had a nice room. In fact, the vacation itself was exemplary until the very moment that he collected his luggage and was going to disembark. This is otherwise known as the moment he discovered the difference between a cruise and an all-inclusive cruise. In an all-inclusive cruise, he would have paid one price upfront before he ever left home. Instead, he found out at the end he owed a few hundred bucks in port charges (that’s a tax that’s levied every time your boat goes into a harbor). He also didn’t realize that it’s expected to tip the steward, the waiter, and the bus boy each about ten dollars a day.
My friend did eventually make it back on dry land, albeit a thousand bucks lighter. So you can understand why he breaks out into a cold sweat every time a rerun of The Love Boat comes on TV Land. The cruise was enjoyable enough; it just cost him a lot more in the end than he thought it would. His trip is a living illustration of the expression If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
Jesus’ speaking tour has been a huge success. His message of second chances and compassion for the needy has really connected with a demographic that isn’t usually too interested in religion! Standing room only venues… The cover of Time Magazine… He even made the Wired list – they moved John the Baptist to Tired… They put his face on some Jesus is My Homeboy t-shirts. The establishment doesn’t seem too happy with ‘em, but then again, when was the last time the establishment did anything for you? While they’re spending time kissing up to Rome, Jesus is making blind men see, lame people straight, and demon-possessed people free.
Everybody wants to follow this guy. But what they don’t realize is that they’re following a man straight to his execution.
Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters -- yes, even his own life -- he cannot be my disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14: 25 – 27)
Jesus was a carpenter, but personally, I think he would have made an excellent mechanic. He’s not the type to lure you in with a promise of a $12.95 oil change only to tell you that your brakes need replaced. Jesus’ teachings and acts of compassion were the best things that hit that enemy-occupied country in a long time. And people wanted to hang onto him with all their might. But Jesus knew that all too often the dark forces of this world rush in to snuff out whatever rare candle gets to burning. And he wants them to know upfront what they’re really getting themselves into.
Hate his father and mother. What do you suppose he meant by that? It can’t be that he’s suggesting that loyalty to him allows us to be cruel to our family, because Jesus’ ministry was one of compassion. In fact, there’s a story recorded in the Gospel of Saint Mark (chapter 7) where Jesus condemns a practice where a person could donate money or property to the temple and then neglect supporting his parents in their old age. We need to honor our parents. Jesus is using the word hate in an exaggerated way to get his point across, just like in the Sermon on the Mount when he says if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out or if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off.
What he means by the word hate is love less. Some people’s family lives are better than others. Some family bonds are strong, others are tattered. In Israel, family was everything – it was the greatest source of pride – and a person’s loyalty to it was unwavering. Through thick and thin, right or wrong, a person stood with their family. And Jesus says you need that kind of loyalty and then some if you’re ever gonna learn anything from me.
In fact, an uncompromising commitment to following Jesus must be more important to a disciple than his own self-interest and even his own instinct of self-preservation.
I was so ripped at somebody the other day at work. I knew this person needed my help, so I decided that I was going to be as obstinate as possible. But then I remembered that I needed to forgive as the Lord forgave me. So I got off my butt and helped them. So if my grudge gets in the way of following Jesus, the grudge has to go. Whatever it is that gets between me and intimacy with Christ has to go.
"Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' (Luke 14: 28 – 30)
Let’s say you want to fix something up around the house. So you don’t plan anything for Saturday morning, you just go pick up what you need at the hardware store and you get working. You know how it goes, right? Sunday night at 10 ‘o clock you’re still messing around with the project and you’ve had to run to the hardware store three times to pick up more stuff! It’s always going to cost more and take more time than you think it will.
Faith in Christ isn’t a one-time event; Faith in Christ is a daily journey. Some days it’s a wonderful journey, and the winds at my back, and I feel like I can run the whole way straight to heaven. The sky grows dark on other days, and the journey is punishing, the hills almost impossible to climb. That’s why I so appreciate Jesus’ frankness in saying that it’s not always going to be easy, because sometimes the only thing that keeps me trudging on is my stubborn commitment that I’m in this with Jesus for the long haul.
"Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14: 31 – 33)
Pastor David Guzik writes, “In the parable of the tower, Jesus says ‘sit down and see if you can afford to follow me. In the parable of the king, Jesus says ‘sit down and see if you can afford to refuse my demands.’”
Back in the seventies there was a Broadway musical called Your Arm's Too Short to Box With God. What a true statement. He must conquer all to set us truly free. But I’m happy to say from experience that Christ offers highly favorable terms of surrender!
University of Southern California philosphy professor Dallas Willard writes:
In 1937 Dietrich Bonhoeffer gave the world his book The Cost of Discipleship. It was a masterful attack on "easy Christianity" or "cheap grace," but it did not set aside-perhaps it even enforced-the view of discipleship as a costly spiritual excess, and only for those especially driven or called to it. It was right to point out that one cannot be a disciple of Christ without forfeiting things normally sought in human life, and that one who pays little in the world's coinage to bear his name has reason to wonder where he or she stands with God. But the cost of nondiscipleship is far greater -- even when this life alone is considered -- than the price paid to walk with Jesus.
Nondiscipleship costs abiding peace, a life penetrated throughout by love, faith that sees everything in IIw light of God's overriding governance for good, hopefulness that stands firm in the most discouraging of circumstances, power to do what is right and withstand the forces of evil. In short, it costs exactly that abundance of life Jesus said he came to bring (John 10:10). The cross-shaped yoke of Christ is after all an instrument of liberation and power to those who live in it with him and learn the meekness and lowliness of heart that brings rest to the soul. . . . The correct perspective is to see following Christ not only as the necessity it is, but as the fulfillment of the highest human possibilities and as life on the highest plane.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Quote of the Week: Religion
"There are two reasons people become religious... To escape mystery... And to approach mystery." -- Scott Peck
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Le Freak/So Chic
How in the world can I ever explain disco, especially to a group of people, many of whom are too young to have experienced it? It’s hard to believe that people—maybe even your mom or dad—went out in public with feathered hair, platform shoes, and bell–bottoms. They did dance moves The Hustle and The Bump. They listened to songs like Le Freak/So Chic, YMCA, and Stayin’ Alive on 8-Track.
If you weren’t born yet, I’m sure my description of the disco era sounds like some crazy nightmare I conjured up the last time I was in the grip of an especially high fever. But it wasn’t. Disco was about America being caught in the grip of Saturday Night Fever. For a few years in the 1970s an incessant rhythm section provided the soundtrack to our lives.
There was a club in New York City that was at the very epicenter of the disco trend, and it was called Studio 54. Everybody that was anybody was there, and the club’s exclusivity was a big part of its draw. On any given night about 1500 people would be milling around outside, and one of the club’s owners would stand outside to personally admit people or turn them away.
You’re too ugly! Get out of here!
Go get some new clothes!
You’re too fat! Come back when you’re on a diet!
But if you were an heiress or a movie star, you’d be motioned in. And people who were neither rich nor famous still hung around outside, because if you were especially attractive you still might get lucky and be admitted to the club. There are stories of all kinds of crazy things people would do to get into Studio 54: women dressing up as Wonder Woman, people taking off their clothes, guys trying to bribe the owners into letting them in, people ditching their dates when only one of them was chosen…
It’s amazing to me that people would put up with that kind of abuse just to get into a disco club. But Studio 54 was more than that. Admittance was the ultimate status symbol of New York Society. It was an honor. You were one of the rich, famous, or beautiful people. Or maybe all three.
Of course, to have your entrance to the club barred was the ultimate slam. Sometimes the gossips columns would run a story about an up-and-coming actor or model that was inexplicably turned away. I guess so-and-so isn’t as famous as they thought they were! What a dishonor.
Honor and dishonor. The in-crowd and the out-group. The guest list and the z-list. Making reputations and breaking reputations. And in the middle of the party, surrounded by the flashing lights and incessant beat, we’ll find Jesus.
One Sabbath, when Jesus went to eat in the house of a prominent Pharisee, he was being carefully watched... When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: "When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 14: 1, 7 – 11)
Nobody likes a social climber, right? Jesus is giving some common sense advice that wouldn’t be out of place in a Dale Carnegie book. But there’s something more there—Jesus is telling a story to illustrate a spiritual truth. What he’s really talking about is the Kingdom of God.
Jesus is traveling around the countryside telling everyone who will listen about a God who loves them and wants to show them mercy and has such a wonderful new way of life for them. And the tax collectors, and the drunks, and the whores, and the two time losers embrace him because they know he’s the only second chance they have. But the Pharisees, the most religious people of all, can’t see the Kingdom of God even when it’s right in front of them. Isn’t it ironic that the very people who claimed to have the most profound spiritual insight turned out to be the most blind of all? Jesus makes the same point by telling a different story a little later on:
Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.'
"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'
"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 18: 10 – 14)
Rather than embrace the Christ, the Pharisees stayed secure in their own reputations.
Jesus’ story still speaks to us today. We’re not part of the family of God because of how much we know, how devout we are, or because of our connections. The only reason that we find ourselves part of the family of God, and that is the mercy shown to us by Jesus Christ.
I’m working my way through the book Celtic Daily Prayer. I’d like to quote Tuesday’s reading:
“’Pray for me. I ask you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me.’ If ever you go to a black church that’s a phrase you’ll hear almost every person use when they stand up or come forward to testify—sometimes it’s like punctuation, not heart-felt at all, but it’s still an important reminder.
“If you attend mass you will say, ‘I ask… all the angels and saints and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.’
“And George MacLeod, founder of the Iona Community, as he quotes the old spiritual, echoes the same words:
It’s not my brother or my sister
but it’s me, O Lord:
standing in the need of prayer.
We are so warm in our own self-esteem
that we freeze the folks around us.
We get so high in our estimation
that we stand isolated on a mountain
top of self-righteousness.
that is why You came: Lord Jesus:
not to save the lecherous but to turn
the righteous to repentance
And it is me, O Lord.”
Let’s continue on in starting in verse 12:
Then Jesus said to his host, "When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." (Luke 14: 12 – 14)
Everybody and their sister are trying to grow their church, because the church in America is shrinking fast. There are all kinds of books and techniques about how to reverse this trend and have a "successful" church. We all want to find young families that will tithe, and serve, and fit in. And Christ takes our carefully prepared invitation list and crumples it up and tosses it in the trash can. He’s not going to be screening people at the door, and he doesn’t want us to, either. “Whosoever…”
Ultimately, we don’t need to worry about seating arrangements in the party, because we’re all seated at one table, together. And there’s only one person in the place of honor—Jesus Christ.
If you weren’t born yet, I’m sure my description of the disco era sounds like some crazy nightmare I conjured up the last time I was in the grip of an especially high fever. But it wasn’t. Disco was about America being caught in the grip of Saturday Night Fever. For a few years in the 1970s an incessant rhythm section provided the soundtrack to our lives.
There was a club in New York City that was at the very epicenter of the disco trend, and it was called Studio 54. Everybody that was anybody was there, and the club’s exclusivity was a big part of its draw. On any given night about 1500 people would be milling around outside, and one of the club’s owners would stand outside to personally admit people or turn them away.
You’re too ugly! Get out of here!
Go get some new clothes!
You’re too fat! Come back when you’re on a diet!
But if you were an heiress or a movie star, you’d be motioned in. And people who were neither rich nor famous still hung around outside, because if you were especially attractive you still might get lucky and be admitted to the club. There are stories of all kinds of crazy things people would do to get into Studio 54: women dressing up as Wonder Woman, people taking off their clothes, guys trying to bribe the owners into letting them in, people ditching their dates when only one of them was chosen…
It’s amazing to me that people would put up with that kind of abuse just to get into a disco club. But Studio 54 was more than that. Admittance was the ultimate status symbol of New York Society. It was an honor. You were one of the rich, famous, or beautiful people. Or maybe all three.
Of course, to have your entrance to the club barred was the ultimate slam. Sometimes the gossips columns would run a story about an up-and-coming actor or model that was inexplicably turned away. I guess so-and-so isn’t as famous as they thought they were! What a dishonor.
Honor and dishonor. The in-crowd and the out-group. The guest list and the z-list. Making reputations and breaking reputations. And in the middle of the party, surrounded by the flashing lights and incessant beat, we’ll find Jesus.
One Sabbath, when Jesus went to eat in the house of a prominent Pharisee, he was being carefully watched... When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: "When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 14: 1, 7 – 11)
Nobody likes a social climber, right? Jesus is giving some common sense advice that wouldn’t be out of place in a Dale Carnegie book. But there’s something more there—Jesus is telling a story to illustrate a spiritual truth. What he’s really talking about is the Kingdom of God.
Jesus is traveling around the countryside telling everyone who will listen about a God who loves them and wants to show them mercy and has such a wonderful new way of life for them. And the tax collectors, and the drunks, and the whores, and the two time losers embrace him because they know he’s the only second chance they have. But the Pharisees, the most religious people of all, can’t see the Kingdom of God even when it’s right in front of them. Isn’t it ironic that the very people who claimed to have the most profound spiritual insight turned out to be the most blind of all? Jesus makes the same point by telling a different story a little later on:
Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.'
"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'
"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 18: 10 – 14)
Rather than embrace the Christ, the Pharisees stayed secure in their own reputations.
Jesus’ story still speaks to us today. We’re not part of the family of God because of how much we know, how devout we are, or because of our connections. The only reason that we find ourselves part of the family of God, and that is the mercy shown to us by Jesus Christ.
I’m working my way through the book Celtic Daily Prayer. I’d like to quote Tuesday’s reading:
“’Pray for me. I ask you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me.’ If ever you go to a black church that’s a phrase you’ll hear almost every person use when they stand up or come forward to testify—sometimes it’s like punctuation, not heart-felt at all, but it’s still an important reminder.
“If you attend mass you will say, ‘I ask… all the angels and saints and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.’
“And George MacLeod, founder of the Iona Community, as he quotes the old spiritual, echoes the same words:
It’s not my brother or my sister
but it’s me, O Lord:
standing in the need of prayer.
We are so warm in our own self-esteem
that we freeze the folks around us.
We get so high in our estimation
that we stand isolated on a mountain
top of self-righteousness.
that is why You came: Lord Jesus:
not to save the lecherous but to turn
the righteous to repentance
And it is me, O Lord.”
Let’s continue on in starting in verse 12:
Then Jesus said to his host, "When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." (Luke 14: 12 – 14)
Everybody and their sister are trying to grow their church, because the church in America is shrinking fast. There are all kinds of books and techniques about how to reverse this trend and have a "successful" church. We all want to find young families that will tithe, and serve, and fit in. And Christ takes our carefully prepared invitation list and crumples it up and tosses it in the trash can. He’s not going to be screening people at the door, and he doesn’t want us to, either. “Whosoever…”
Ultimately, we don’t need to worry about seating arrangements in the party, because we’re all seated at one table, together. And there’s only one person in the place of honor—Jesus Christ.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Quote of the Week: Prayer
"Our problem is that we assume prayer is something to master the way we master algebra or auto mechanics. That puts us in the 'on-top' position, where we are competent and in control. But when praying, we come 'underneath,' where we calmly and deliberately surrender control and become incompetent…The truth of the matter is, we all come to prayer with a tangled mass of motives – altruistic and selfish, merciful and hateful, loving and bitter. Frankly, this side of eternity we will never unravel the good from the bad, the pure from the impure. God is big enough to receive us with all our mixture. That is what grace means, and not only are we saved by it, we live by it as well. And we pray by it." -- Richard J. Foster
Monday, August 23, 2004
No Reedie Ze English
Who ever thought it would be a good idea for churches have signs out front? Probably the Devil.
The sign out front of our building used to display useful messages to the people driving by, such as the phone number of our women's shelter, the hours our food pantry is open, or the date and time of a special meeting. Sometimes it would display a Psalm or a simple prayer, like Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace.
But now our sign has been commandeered by the "Finger Pointing Brigade" who feels that it's their duty to make passing motorists feel as guilty as possible. Recent signs have included:
I AM NEVER A FAILURE UNTIL I BEGIN BLAMING OTHERS
THE EXPRESSION OF CHRISTIAN CHARACTER ISN'T GOOD DOING BUT IN CHRISTLIKENESS
SEVEN DAYS WITHOUT PRAYER MAKES ONE WEAK
Might as well erect a statue of St. Francis with his middle finger up.
When did Christians get the idea that pithy little sayings were somehow a religious duty that needed to be fulfilled on every sign, bumper sticker, and t-shirt they could get their pious little hands on? Do they really think that they're changing the world by being obnoxious?
This week's signage takes the cake:
IF YOUR SOUL DOESN'T HAVE A SUNDAY, IT WILL SOON BECOME AN ORPHAN.
Uh, thank you William Shakespeare. Methinks not.
Will someone -- a theologian or English teacher -- please e-mail me and enlighten me as to what this sign means? Because I have absolutely no clue, even after reading it a dozen times. And if I can't decipher it -- and I'm one of the pastors for Pete's sake -- what do the thousands of people who drive by our intersection everyday think?
The sign out front of our building used to display useful messages to the people driving by, such as the phone number of our women's shelter, the hours our food pantry is open, or the date and time of a special meeting. Sometimes it would display a Psalm or a simple prayer, like Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace.
But now our sign has been commandeered by the "Finger Pointing Brigade" who feels that it's their duty to make passing motorists feel as guilty as possible. Recent signs have included:
I AM NEVER A FAILURE UNTIL I BEGIN BLAMING OTHERS
THE EXPRESSION OF CHRISTIAN CHARACTER ISN'T GOOD DOING BUT IN CHRISTLIKENESS
SEVEN DAYS WITHOUT PRAYER MAKES ONE WEAK
Might as well erect a statue of St. Francis with his middle finger up.
When did Christians get the idea that pithy little sayings were somehow a religious duty that needed to be fulfilled on every sign, bumper sticker, and t-shirt they could get their pious little hands on? Do they really think that they're changing the world by being obnoxious?
This week's signage takes the cake:
IF YOUR SOUL DOESN'T HAVE A SUNDAY, IT WILL SOON BECOME AN ORPHAN.
Uh, thank you William Shakespeare. Methinks not.
Will someone -- a theologian or English teacher -- please e-mail me and enlighten me as to what this sign means? Because I have absolutely no clue, even after reading it a dozen times. And if I can't decipher it -- and I'm one of the pastors for Pete's sake -- what do the thousands of people who drive by our intersection everyday think?
Sunday, August 22, 2004
I.F.'s Teen Camp Diary -- Monday
Monday was the Experiment House crew's day to exhale. We had concluded our meetings the night before, so we had the whole day to mix it up with the campers and staff. It was nice for Lamont and I to have some unstructured time with people, and it was interesting to see where some of those conversations ended up.
The big event of the day was a trip to The Gorge at Watkins Glen. We walked all 800 steps (1.4 miles) to the top. The forest, caves, rapids, and waterfalls. It was so beautiful -- just like Middle Earth except for all the pop bottles floating downstream. When I got to the top I took off my shoes and socks and walked around in the grass soaking up the sunshine. I think the bliss I was experiencing was probably what dogs feel like all the time.
What else did I do that day? Drove back to camp with the windows down listening to jazz and big band music. Snuck in a quick nap. I took a hot bath -- not because I needed to, but just because I could. And just when I didn't think the day could possibly get any better, the camp directors took it to the next level by treating us to dinner at the Mongolian Grill in Geneva NY.
After a day like this it was hard to imagine going home!
P.S. We all adopted Hobbit names for our hike at Watkins Glen. My name was Hornschwaggle Phartknocker.
The big event of the day was a trip to The Gorge at Watkins Glen. We walked all 800 steps (1.4 miles) to the top. The forest, caves, rapids, and waterfalls. It was so beautiful -- just like Middle Earth except for all the pop bottles floating downstream. When I got to the top I took off my shoes and socks and walked around in the grass soaking up the sunshine. I think the bliss I was experiencing was probably what dogs feel like all the time.
What else did I do that day? Drove back to camp with the windows down listening to jazz and big band music. Snuck in a quick nap. I took a hot bath -- not because I needed to, but just because I could. And just when I didn't think the day could possibly get any better, the camp directors took it to the next level by treating us to dinner at the Mongolian Grill in Geneva NY.
After a day like this it was hard to imagine going home!
P.S. We all adopted Hobbit names for our hike at Watkins Glen. My name was Hornschwaggle Phartknocker.
Saturday, August 21, 2004
I.F.'s Teen Camp Diary -- Sunday
The Experiment House crew was well-settled in to camp and condo by Sunday. Although we wouldn't leave camp until Tuesday morning, this was our last day of doing program. Lamont spoke in the morning meeting about being afraid; I spoke in the evening about warning signs your faith is waning. All lot of people from the camp staff volunteered to help out, which enriched the meetings and made our job easier.
Content in the knowledge that the evening meeting was already put together, I succumbed to one of life's greatest pleasures -- The Sunday Afternoon Nap. I went into the bedroom to read a paperback, but with the sunshine warming me through the big bay windows and the sound of water gently lapping the shore... I think I read about one page that afternoon and slept almost three hours.
Sunday is the day of rest, after all. It's just that some Sundays are more restful than others...
Content in the knowledge that the evening meeting was already put together, I succumbed to one of life's greatest pleasures -- The Sunday Afternoon Nap. I went into the bedroom to read a paperback, but with the sunshine warming me through the big bay windows and the sound of water gently lapping the shore... I think I read about one page that afternoon and slept almost three hours.
Sunday is the day of rest, after all. It's just that some Sundays are more restful than others...
Thursday, August 19, 2004
All Bent Out of Shape
Do you consider yourself an upright, law-abiding citizen? Do you walk the straight–and–narrow? Be on your guard, because there are a lot of laws on the books right here in New York State that you may not even be aware that you’re breaking!
Now there’s a good story to be told about the genesis of each and every one of those laws. I’m sure that if we had the full history we’d find out that there was a logical reason for the law in a specific time in a specific locale. (I’m sure today that the State Supreme Court could strike these laws down as being overly broad or already covered by existing laws, but why waste our tax dollars? Especially when the highway department already is doing such a good job of it!) If you ever want to browse around some funny stuff like this, check out www.dumblaws.com.
England has a lot of laws like this because their judicial history goes back so far. For instance, you can’t have an open flame on a boat on the Thames. Well, when that law was passed, an open flame would be a sign of aggression and the people on the boat were obviously going to set fire to Londontown. But what about today? Wouldn’t it seem crazy if the London Police arrested a chef on board one of the many dinner cruises that go up and down the Thames?
Our reading this morning is from the Gospel of Saint Luke, Chapter 13. We’ll begin at verse 10.
On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. (Luke 13: 10 – 13)
I’m going to remember this woman the next time I’m having a hard time getting out of bed on a Sunday morning. She was a crippled woman, bent over like a question mark. Over the course of eighteen years she had gone from looking people in the face to just being able to see her feet in the dirt. It must have been hard to navigate around town; it must have been a physical hardship to get there. That’s not even mentioning her emotional hardships—in her culture, a person who developed a handicap or sickness would have been viewed as someone God was punishing for a sin. But despite all of her sufferings she was at the synagogue, worshipping. She was faithful above and beyond the call of duty.
Jesus sees her and reacts with compassion—“Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” He touches her, and suddenly her body changes from the shape of a question mark into an exclamation point! She praises God! It’s party time!
Or is it? There’s always one Debbie Downer in the crowd! Look at verse 14.
Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”
The Sabbath. We commonly call it the day of rest. In the Book of Genesis, Chapter 2, we read that God created the world in six days, and on the seventh day he rests. I was taught that God established a pattern for us to follow. I still think that’s a valid argument.
That’s where the synagogue ruler is coming from. He knows his scriptures. It’s the Sabbath. Nobody can do any work—that’s the rules. And they apply to everybody—including this Jesus guy.
But listen to what I found in Deuteronomy, Chapter 5. Moses is giving the Ten Commandments to the Israelites. Listen to this little bit he says after telling them to keep the Sabbath:
Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the LORD your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the LORD your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath day.
The Sabbath isn’t just some weird regulation that we keep to somehow placate God… It’s not a huge burden meant to weigh us down. It’s about liberation from bondage! When the Jews were slaves they were on the leash of the Egyptians twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, including Thanksgiving and Christmas. God delivered them and said on the seventh day no one in Israel is at anybody’s beck-and-call. Doesn’t matter if you’re the richest man or poorest pauper everyone experiences liberation that day. I’m not implying that this contradicts the on the seventh day God rested bit, I’m just saying that this scripture puts it in a little different light.
The legalists had turned the Sabbath into just another way to point the finger at people and condemn them, while God intended it to be a day of celebration where Israel could say look how much better it is to serve God than some Pharaoh!
When Jesus healed this crippled woman, wasn’t he really delivering her from bondage? Let’s move onto Jesus’ response, starting in verse 15.
The Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Doesn't each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?"
It’s questionable who was more in bondage that morning—the crippled woman or the people that were so dogmatic about their religion that they weren’t free to praise God for the miracle done in their midst? In a similar situation in Matthew, Chapter 12, Jesus feels the need to remind the finger-pointers that it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath. Isn’t that what it’s all about?
Does God want religious people or compassionate people? Does God want religious people or loving people? Does God want religious people or merciful people? I’d like to say those all those terms are always synonymous, but human history demonstrates otherwise. Those times in my life when I’ve let my nice, tidy, color-in-the-lines religion create a wall between me and someone in need I have been just as truly bound as if I had a crippling disease. Christians should have clean hearts, but we should be willing to get our hands dirty when we can make a difference.
I presume Jesus could have waited until the next day to heal this woman. He wouldn’t have rocked the boat with anyone. After eighteen years, what difference would another twenty-four hours have made? But Jesus didn’t hesitate when he saw a burden he could lift. As servants of Christ, should we do any different? We can waffle all day and all night the best course of action—but that doesn’t lift anyone’s burden. In the words of Martin Luther King:
Cowardice asks the question, "Is it safe?" Expediency asks the question, "Is it politic?" And Vanity comes along and asks the question, "Is it popular?" But Conscience asks the question, "Is it right?" And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because Conscience tells him it is right. (Address to SCLC Ministers)
A spontaneous celebration was squelched by the most religious people in the room. The Bible says [that when Jesus confronted them] all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. Let’s not get so dogmatic in our thinking that we miss what’s obvious to the average Joe in the street.
Life presents us with some pretty difficult decisions. We will make mistakes. But in those moments when we’re so conflicted about what’s the right thing to do, let’s decide to ere on the side of compassion.
- You can be fined $25 for flirting.
- You can get the death penalty for jumping off a building.
- You can’t walk around with an ice-cream cone in your pocket on a Sunday.
- You can’t wear slippers after 10 pm.
Now there’s a good story to be told about the genesis of each and every one of those laws. I’m sure that if we had the full history we’d find out that there was a logical reason for the law in a specific time in a specific locale. (I’m sure today that the State Supreme Court could strike these laws down as being overly broad or already covered by existing laws, but why waste our tax dollars? Especially when the highway department already is doing such a good job of it!) If you ever want to browse around some funny stuff like this, check out www.dumblaws.com.
England has a lot of laws like this because their judicial history goes back so far. For instance, you can’t have an open flame on a boat on the Thames. Well, when that law was passed, an open flame would be a sign of aggression and the people on the boat were obviously going to set fire to Londontown. But what about today? Wouldn’t it seem crazy if the London Police arrested a chef on board one of the many dinner cruises that go up and down the Thames?
Our reading this morning is from the Gospel of Saint Luke, Chapter 13. We’ll begin at verse 10.
On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. (Luke 13: 10 – 13)
I’m going to remember this woman the next time I’m having a hard time getting out of bed on a Sunday morning. She was a crippled woman, bent over like a question mark. Over the course of eighteen years she had gone from looking people in the face to just being able to see her feet in the dirt. It must have been hard to navigate around town; it must have been a physical hardship to get there. That’s not even mentioning her emotional hardships—in her culture, a person who developed a handicap or sickness would have been viewed as someone God was punishing for a sin. But despite all of her sufferings she was at the synagogue, worshipping. She was faithful above and beyond the call of duty.
Jesus sees her and reacts with compassion—“Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” He touches her, and suddenly her body changes from the shape of a question mark into an exclamation point! She praises God! It’s party time!
Or is it? There’s always one Debbie Downer in the crowd! Look at verse 14.
Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”
The Sabbath. We commonly call it the day of rest. In the Book of Genesis, Chapter 2, we read that God created the world in six days, and on the seventh day he rests. I was taught that God established a pattern for us to follow. I still think that’s a valid argument.
That’s where the synagogue ruler is coming from. He knows his scriptures. It’s the Sabbath. Nobody can do any work—that’s the rules. And they apply to everybody—including this Jesus guy.
But listen to what I found in Deuteronomy, Chapter 5. Moses is giving the Ten Commandments to the Israelites. Listen to this little bit he says after telling them to keep the Sabbath:
Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the LORD your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the LORD your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath day.
The Sabbath isn’t just some weird regulation that we keep to somehow placate God… It’s not a huge burden meant to weigh us down. It’s about liberation from bondage! When the Jews were slaves they were on the leash of the Egyptians twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, including Thanksgiving and Christmas. God delivered them and said on the seventh day no one in Israel is at anybody’s beck-and-call. Doesn’t matter if you’re the richest man or poorest pauper everyone experiences liberation that day. I’m not implying that this contradicts the on the seventh day God rested bit, I’m just saying that this scripture puts it in a little different light.
The legalists had turned the Sabbath into just another way to point the finger at people and condemn them, while God intended it to be a day of celebration where Israel could say look how much better it is to serve God than some Pharaoh!
When Jesus healed this crippled woman, wasn’t he really delivering her from bondage? Let’s move onto Jesus’ response, starting in verse 15.
The Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Doesn't each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?"
It’s questionable who was more in bondage that morning—the crippled woman or the people that were so dogmatic about their religion that they weren’t free to praise God for the miracle done in their midst? In a similar situation in Matthew, Chapter 12, Jesus feels the need to remind the finger-pointers that it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath. Isn’t that what it’s all about?
Does God want religious people or compassionate people? Does God want religious people or loving people? Does God want religious people or merciful people? I’d like to say those all those terms are always synonymous, but human history demonstrates otherwise. Those times in my life when I’ve let my nice, tidy, color-in-the-lines religion create a wall between me and someone in need I have been just as truly bound as if I had a crippling disease. Christians should have clean hearts, but we should be willing to get our hands dirty when we can make a difference.
I presume Jesus could have waited until the next day to heal this woman. He wouldn’t have rocked the boat with anyone. After eighteen years, what difference would another twenty-four hours have made? But Jesus didn’t hesitate when he saw a burden he could lift. As servants of Christ, should we do any different? We can waffle all day and all night the best course of action—but that doesn’t lift anyone’s burden. In the words of Martin Luther King:
Cowardice asks the question, "Is it safe?" Expediency asks the question, "Is it politic?" And Vanity comes along and asks the question, "Is it popular?" But Conscience asks the question, "Is it right?" And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because Conscience tells him it is right. (Address to SCLC Ministers)
A spontaneous celebration was squelched by the most religious people in the room. The Bible says [that when Jesus confronted them] all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. Let’s not get so dogmatic in our thinking that we miss what’s obvious to the average Joe in the street.
Life presents us with some pretty difficult decisions. We will make mistakes. But in those moments when we’re so conflicted about what’s the right thing to do, let’s decide to ere on the side of compassion.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
I.F.'s Teen Camp Diary -- Saturday
I woke up early Saturday morning before everyone else in the condo. I quietly collected my Bible, my copy of Celtic Daily Prayer, and my notebook and made my way out onto the balcony. Sitting there overlooking Keuka Lake it was hard to believe that just 24 hours earlier I was rushing around like a madman in Jamestown. It seemed like a whole different life.
It's been a real struggle for me to center myself in prayer lately. An ongoing conflict at work keeps me distracted at all times. It's even the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning. I try to stay focused and make the best of it. The gist of Saturday's readings was God works in people's lives for good. I meditated on that, although I have to admit that at that moment I felt less than confident!
Lamont was in charge of the morning meeting, which went off flawlessly. Icebreakers, visual aides, and an easily remembered sermon -- the L Girl was in the house! She talked about, well, talking, which is a good topic for a generation of kids raised on sitcoms which portray put-downs as a normal part of family life.
I found that what I was most enjoying about the weekend was the collaboration with friends. Mr. X started this riff about an "extreme youth group" in a Southern Bible-belt type of delivery that eventually turned into a brainstorming session with Lamont, and A-- and S--, two women from our church who are working at camp for the summer. It evolved into a hilarious skit that they performed in the evening meeting to great success! It was so easy, and I wish we had time to do this kind of stuff at home!
I'm still trying to figure out what happened on Saturday night. It just seemed to me like the whole thing was lurching towards disaster:
All of this stuff just threw me off, and I didn't feel like anything I said was connecting with the teens. I think the premise was good: We can't change the past, the future isn't here, all we can do is make the best of our lives in the present. But the hastily rewritten sermon was all backwards -- serious at the front and funny at the rear... It sucked...
I muddled through to the end and mentioned that we were going to be having a time of prayer, and that if they wanted, they could come down to the altar for prayer. While Mending Point came on stage to play a song, I sat down on the edge of the stage and prayed for the kids. I was supposed to take the mic at the end of the band's song and close the meeting in prayer, but the band just kept on playing. I looked up and there were dozens of kids lining the altar and the surrounding floor. Some kids were crying out their hurts, some were deep in prayer, some had a look of deep serenity about them that only God can impart. Needless to say, the meeting went a little longer that night than planned...
I guess my point is that even in a roomful of distracted teenagers, God works for the good of people despite the shortcomings of his messengers.
It's been a real struggle for me to center myself in prayer lately. An ongoing conflict at work keeps me distracted at all times. It's even the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning. I try to stay focused and make the best of it. The gist of Saturday's readings was God works in people's lives for good. I meditated on that, although I have to admit that at that moment I felt less than confident!
Lamont was in charge of the morning meeting, which went off flawlessly. Icebreakers, visual aides, and an easily remembered sermon -- the L Girl was in the house! She talked about, well, talking, which is a good topic for a generation of kids raised on sitcoms which portray put-downs as a normal part of family life.
I found that what I was most enjoying about the weekend was the collaboration with friends. Mr. X started this riff about an "extreme youth group" in a Southern Bible-belt type of delivery that eventually turned into a brainstorming session with Lamont, and A-- and S--, two women from our church who are working at camp for the summer. It evolved into a hilarious skit that they performed in the evening meeting to great success! It was so easy, and I wish we had time to do this kind of stuff at home!
I'm still trying to figure out what happened on Saturday night. It just seemed to me like the whole thing was lurching towards disaster:
- I got cold feet about my message and rewrote it an hour before the meeting.
- Due to a miscommunication error, the order of service changed a few times right before it started.
- I had a technical problem right at the beginning of my talk -- a song that I was supposed to be referring to in the opening lines wasn't playing.
All of this stuff just threw me off, and I didn't feel like anything I said was connecting with the teens. I think the premise was good: We can't change the past, the future isn't here, all we can do is make the best of our lives in the present. But the hastily rewritten sermon was all backwards -- serious at the front and funny at the rear... It sucked...
I muddled through to the end and mentioned that we were going to be having a time of prayer, and that if they wanted, they could come down to the altar for prayer. While Mending Point came on stage to play a song, I sat down on the edge of the stage and prayed for the kids. I was supposed to take the mic at the end of the band's song and close the meeting in prayer, but the band just kept on playing. I looked up and there were dozens of kids lining the altar and the surrounding floor. Some kids were crying out their hurts, some were deep in prayer, some had a look of deep serenity about them that only God can impart. Needless to say, the meeting went a little longer that night than planned...
I guess my point is that even in a roomful of distracted teenagers, God works for the good of people despite the shortcomings of his messengers.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
LPC Day 1
You can expect a day to go a certain way - but it rarely does. When I woke up early for our trip to LPC, I was determined to not allow the little glitches get to me. But when we got to the church, all we seemed to face were delays. But as I gathered things and greeted parents I knew it would be alright once we got on the main highway. Oh how I couldn't wait to get out on the open road.
The team worked together so well from the first moment. Shuffling to pick up a volunteer, located our van and trailer to transport 13 teenage campers on Friday the 13th. After medication, money and head checks were complete (and all-13 were clean); you would have thought I had won the lottery. Yahoo!
I almost lost my jubilant mood after having to return back to town two times for various items, but after a few miles of highway and happy chatter with the passengers in the back seat - I was a millionaire again.
The drive went fast, stopping for gas and pop-tarts just once. Camp registration went alright. There was a scramble to retain resistant documents for a few campers, but I was going to be there the whole session. So I waited happily while chatting with old friends and joking with two of my unregistered imaginary campers. We were all happy when the faxes came through and they became real live campers, with cabins and counselors and canteen cards.
It was a new experience for I. F. and I taking along our two kids to Teen Camp. The Director promised child care for them, so we decided to give it a try. We found out that we were staying in the apartment directly above the Director's. Two bedrooms, a pull out sofa for our volunteer, a microwave for our popcorn habit, and a small sitting area outside of the sliding glass door that was perfect for staring at stars while listening to the lake water lap the small shore. What a perfect and peaceful place for us to stay while working with unpredictable and energetic teens.
Friday night we had the first meeting we were responsible for putting on. We played a game called "Who Am I" with the almost 90 campers. Our daughter H - is a tween. Not a kid and not quite a teen, so she assisted us with props and various supporting jobs. So as she ran in front of the stage with the poster-board " Who AM I?" sign, I had a such a happy feeling knowing that we truly were a team. We all had a purpose for being there.
B- mc'ed the game and I played Vanna. B- gave his testimony and expressed how important it was to listen to the quiet voice of God. He said, that often times we look for a burning bush to direct us instead of relying on the peaceful presence and quiet direction of God's Holy Spirit. He spoke from his heart and the teens listened attentively. I played my guitar and led some worship songs. My hands were shaking and my faced was hot with some stage fright. But the audience didn't seem to notice my nerves, because they stood up, sang loud and cheered through the songs and introductions. I - seemed happy, calm and so intelligent as he taught about Jesus being the good shepherd. "Who is Jesus to you?, " he asked the crowd. During the time of prayer, several people came forward to the alter. I was privileged to pray with some of the kids that we had brought to camp and some that I hadn't met before that moment. I tried to encourage each one that Jesus knew who they were and loved them. He's willing to go on a hike to look for us. He already knows where we are. He's not the one that is lost - we are. N- ( the sound guy), had picked an amazing song to play during prayer time. I can't even remember the name of it - but it expressed salvation in such a pure, direct way; that the time at the alter was seamless and pristine. The kids were there to call out to God. They wanted to be real with HIm. They weren't afraid to reach out to HIm. God was the Good Shepherd to that group on Friday night.
I felt so relieved, joyous, blessed and exhausted and the end of LPC day 1. The kids and I hit the showers while I and B went in pursuit of a late night snack. What a pretty picture it was, as I remember my two children dozing on the pull out sofa. The kid's faces were pink from the summer sun against the white T-shirts they had put on before going to sleep. They were smiling as I tucked them under the covers. After spending some time with I, B and some pizza, I also fell asleep that first night wearing my white T-shirt and pajama pants. My face pink from the summer sun and I had a smile on my face as I closed my eyes.
I slept so well the first night the dreams I had were clear in my mind when I woke the following day. I've been so restless in my sleep of late that I haven't been able to remember any of my dreams. I can remember my dreams at LPC. Friday was a dream come true. Getting 13 teens and 5 staff to camp for five days is no small miracle. Having our ministry team gel so easily, without ego or snappiness present - was another miracle. It's a miracle for all of us, you know, this God that chases after us, this God that shepherds us in the right path, and speaks clearer in the quiet times. It's a miracle that even when we have certain hopes or expectations for our lives, that God's reality is better than anything we can dream.
The team worked together so well from the first moment. Shuffling to pick up a volunteer, located our van and trailer to transport 13 teenage campers on Friday the 13th. After medication, money and head checks were complete (and all-13 were clean); you would have thought I had won the lottery. Yahoo!
I almost lost my jubilant mood after having to return back to town two times for various items, but after a few miles of highway and happy chatter with the passengers in the back seat - I was a millionaire again.
The drive went fast, stopping for gas and pop-tarts just once. Camp registration went alright. There was a scramble to retain resistant documents for a few campers, but I was going to be there the whole session. So I waited happily while chatting with old friends and joking with two of my unregistered imaginary campers. We were all happy when the faxes came through and they became real live campers, with cabins and counselors and canteen cards.
It was a new experience for I. F. and I taking along our two kids to Teen Camp. The Director promised child care for them, so we decided to give it a try. We found out that we were staying in the apartment directly above the Director's. Two bedrooms, a pull out sofa for our volunteer, a microwave for our popcorn habit, and a small sitting area outside of the sliding glass door that was perfect for staring at stars while listening to the lake water lap the small shore. What a perfect and peaceful place for us to stay while working with unpredictable and energetic teens.
Friday night we had the first meeting we were responsible for putting on. We played a game called "Who Am I" with the almost 90 campers. Our daughter H - is a tween. Not a kid and not quite a teen, so she assisted us with props and various supporting jobs. So as she ran in front of the stage with the poster-board " Who AM I?" sign, I had a such a happy feeling knowing that we truly were a team. We all had a purpose for being there.
B- mc'ed the game and I played Vanna. B- gave his testimony and expressed how important it was to listen to the quiet voice of God. He said, that often times we look for a burning bush to direct us instead of relying on the peaceful presence and quiet direction of God's Holy Spirit. He spoke from his heart and the teens listened attentively. I played my guitar and led some worship songs. My hands were shaking and my faced was hot with some stage fright. But the audience didn't seem to notice my nerves, because they stood up, sang loud and cheered through the songs and introductions. I - seemed happy, calm and so intelligent as he taught about Jesus being the good shepherd. "Who is Jesus to you?, " he asked the crowd. During the time of prayer, several people came forward to the alter. I was privileged to pray with some of the kids that we had brought to camp and some that I hadn't met before that moment. I tried to encourage each one that Jesus knew who they were and loved them. He's willing to go on a hike to look for us. He already knows where we are. He's not the one that is lost - we are. N- ( the sound guy), had picked an amazing song to play during prayer time. I can't even remember the name of it - but it expressed salvation in such a pure, direct way; that the time at the alter was seamless and pristine. The kids were there to call out to God. They wanted to be real with HIm. They weren't afraid to reach out to HIm. God was the Good Shepherd to that group on Friday night.
I felt so relieved, joyous, blessed and exhausted and the end of LPC day 1. The kids and I hit the showers while I and B went in pursuit of a late night snack. What a pretty picture it was, as I remember my two children dozing on the pull out sofa. The kid's faces were pink from the summer sun against the white T-shirts they had put on before going to sleep. They were smiling as I tucked them under the covers. After spending some time with I, B and some pizza, I also fell asleep that first night wearing my white T-shirt and pajama pants. My face pink from the summer sun and I had a smile on my face as I closed my eyes.
I slept so well the first night the dreams I had were clear in my mind when I woke the following day. I've been so restless in my sleep of late that I haven't been able to remember any of my dreams. I can remember my dreams at LPC. Friday was a dream come true. Getting 13 teens and 5 staff to camp for five days is no small miracle. Having our ministry team gel so easily, without ego or snappiness present - was another miracle. It's a miracle for all of us, you know, this God that chases after us, this God that shepherds us in the right path, and speaks clearer in the quiet times. It's a miracle that even when we have certain hopes or expectations for our lives, that God's reality is better than anything we can dream.
I.F.'s Teen Camp Diary -- Friday
Friday began too darn early. 6 am to be exact.
True to form, Lamont and I waited until the last possible moment Thursday to get everything ready for the weekend. I finally dropped into bed around midnight; Lamont woke me up when she crawled in beside me at around 2:30 am.
Everything went wrong on Friday morning. No, really, I'm not exaggerating:
Now mind you, this is all going on while we're surrounded by a group of easily excited teenagers. But despite the craziness, I still held onto the hope that a week spent at Teen Camp would be better than a week spent at the office, which has become pretty unbearable as of late.
I'm happy to report that my hope was not misplaced.
Everyone at the camp made us feel so welcome from the second we got there. The camp staff clicked with our crew from Jamestown, which was a relief, because Lamont and Mr. X and I have such a unique working style. (Flying by the seat of our pants mostly!) We also had the great band, Mending Point, for use in our meetings, which was a real bonus. It was great -- everyone was so cooperative and willing to improvise to get things done! With everything being so tough at our church lately, Lamont remarked that she could really grow to like this kind of enthusiasm!
The theme for the weekend was Get Real. I think that's an idea that needs to take root in the church. The burden of being a "good witness" is so oppressive that quite often Christians spend more effort on maintaining a fake image to get approval from people than facing the daily reality of working out an authentic, personal spirituality. So we thought that would be a good place to start with the teens.
Teenagers are some of the most stressed-out people on earth. I'm certain that they're busier than most of us adults: they have to juggle work, school, extracurricular activities, and active social lives. When do they get time for themselves? When do they get time for God? Lamont and I were determined not to guilt trip these kids for not doing enough (i.e. prayer or reading the Bible) -- we were going to bring them a message of hope.
Face it. Kids don't have anyone to look up to anymore. Kids don't have anyone they can trust. So for our first meeting on that night I spoke simply about Christ, the Good Shepherd, who wants to gently lead them and comfort them, who loves them as they are -- with all their imperfections and blemishes intact. We had a short time of prayer at the end, with some kids coming forward to pray. I had an opprtunity to pray with some teenage girls who leaned against the altar and just sobbed and sobbed. The image will be forever etched in my mind. What kind of sick love-starved world are we living in that a message of God's love would evoke such a response from these girls?
After the meeting, we celebrated the night at the condo with some New York Pizza, courtesy of Mr. X. Although I have been suffering from insomnia as of late, Friday night I collapsed into bed and slept like a baby!
True to form, Lamont and I waited until the last possible moment Thursday to get everything ready for the weekend. I finally dropped into bed around midnight; Lamont woke me up when she crawled in beside me at around 2:30 am.
Everything went wrong on Friday morning. No, really, I'm not exaggerating:
- The van that we had reserved was M.I.A.
- When the missing van was returned, it was low on gas.
- So was the other vehicle we were taking.
- We opened up the luggage trailer to find it stuffed with garbage bags full of old clothing.
- We had to wait an additional forty minutes for some kids to show up.
- When we got on the road, Lamont had to turn around to find the camera.
- Which she never found.
- And then had to turn around again to pick up the video projector that I left sitting in my office!
Now mind you, this is all going on while we're surrounded by a group of easily excited teenagers. But despite the craziness, I still held onto the hope that a week spent at Teen Camp would be better than a week spent at the office, which has become pretty unbearable as of late.
I'm happy to report that my hope was not misplaced.
Everyone at the camp made us feel so welcome from the second we got there. The camp staff clicked with our crew from Jamestown, which was a relief, because Lamont and Mr. X and I have such a unique working style. (Flying by the seat of our pants mostly!) We also had the great band, Mending Point, for use in our meetings, which was a real bonus. It was great -- everyone was so cooperative and willing to improvise to get things done! With everything being so tough at our church lately, Lamont remarked that she could really grow to like this kind of enthusiasm!
The theme for the weekend was Get Real. I think that's an idea that needs to take root in the church. The burden of being a "good witness" is so oppressive that quite often Christians spend more effort on maintaining a fake image to get approval from people than facing the daily reality of working out an authentic, personal spirituality. So we thought that would be a good place to start with the teens.
Teenagers are some of the most stressed-out people on earth. I'm certain that they're busier than most of us adults: they have to juggle work, school, extracurricular activities, and active social lives. When do they get time for themselves? When do they get time for God? Lamont and I were determined not to guilt trip these kids for not doing enough (i.e. prayer or reading the Bible) -- we were going to bring them a message of hope.
Face it. Kids don't have anyone to look up to anymore. Kids don't have anyone they can trust. So for our first meeting on that night I spoke simply about Christ, the Good Shepherd, who wants to gently lead them and comfort them, who loves them as they are -- with all their imperfections and blemishes intact. We had a short time of prayer at the end, with some kids coming forward to pray. I had an opprtunity to pray with some teenage girls who leaned against the altar and just sobbed and sobbed. The image will be forever etched in my mind. What kind of sick love-starved world are we living in that a message of God's love would evoke such a response from these girls?
After the meeting, we celebrated the night at the condo with some New York Pizza, courtesy of Mr. X. Although I have been suffering from insomnia as of late, Friday night I collapsed into bed and slept like a baby!
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Camping Craziness
In the morning, some of the Experiment House Crew including myself will be going to spend a few days at our church denomination's camp. How is it that I always feel I need, "just one more day", to get ready for trips like this. UGH. I know that once the van is loaded, the car is packed and all the students we are taking are checked in, it will be fine. But for the next 10 hrs, I feel as if I'm on nuclear meltdown countdown.
Pack clothes. Check - except for that favorite pair of jeans spinning out in the washing machine as I write. Uncheck. Clean out car. Check - except that I had to load the drinks and snacks into the back and haven't had a chance to unload it into the van yet. So uncheck. Organize campers paperwork in folder, make sure to note any special needs, meds, etc. Check. Well. the folder is in the car, I had a late minute camper surface, and my husband had to go to buy some last minute supplies necessary for the presentations we are going to be doing at camp over the next few days. Uncheck, Uncheck, Uncheck.
I really don't feel ready for this. I don't look ready. I don't think I'm ready.
Feeling unready, though, I think is part of the whole experience of breaking away from our regular schedules, geography, and doing something different for a couple days. Every time my computer clock tells me what time it is, I begin to realize that even if I had another day I wouldn't feel any different than I do now. I would make another list of to dos, repack my suitcases and re-organize everything I was and wasn't going to take with me.
Camp is starting on Friday after lunch. It is Thursday night at 9:30 p.m.. The clock is going to keep ticking away, even if I don't want it to. Camp is going to be unpredictable, because of the weather, people and the amazing- loving- uncontainable- forgiving God we are going to serve there.
So maybe I can take a deep breath, realizing that there is only so much I can do. God really is the one holding this time in His hands. I hope that is what this weekend turns out to be. God's time. God's plan. God's purpose.
I am truly blessed. There are new relationships to make, old ones to build upon, and opportunity for something unexpected to occur. Camp is a crazy place. What I really need right now is some of that craziness to come inside of me a shake things up - so they can be put into place again. Not my place, but God's.
Let the countdown begin, because when the camp "ball" drops, anything is possible.
Pack clothes. Check - except for that favorite pair of jeans spinning out in the washing machine as I write. Uncheck. Clean out car. Check - except that I had to load the drinks and snacks into the back and haven't had a chance to unload it into the van yet. So uncheck. Organize campers paperwork in folder, make sure to note any special needs, meds, etc. Check. Well. the folder is in the car, I had a late minute camper surface, and my husband had to go to buy some last minute supplies necessary for the presentations we are going to be doing at camp over the next few days. Uncheck, Uncheck, Uncheck.
I really don't feel ready for this. I don't look ready. I don't think I'm ready.
Feeling unready, though, I think is part of the whole experience of breaking away from our regular schedules, geography, and doing something different for a couple days. Every time my computer clock tells me what time it is, I begin to realize that even if I had another day I wouldn't feel any different than I do now. I would make another list of to dos, repack my suitcases and re-organize everything I was and wasn't going to take with me.
Camp is starting on Friday after lunch. It is Thursday night at 9:30 p.m.. The clock is going to keep ticking away, even if I don't want it to. Camp is going to be unpredictable, because of the weather, people and the amazing- loving- uncontainable- forgiving God we are going to serve there.
So maybe I can take a deep breath, realizing that there is only so much I can do. God really is the one holding this time in His hands. I hope that is what this weekend turns out to be. God's time. God's plan. God's purpose.
I am truly blessed. There are new relationships to make, old ones to build upon, and opportunity for something unexpected to occur. Camp is a crazy place. What I really need right now is some of that craziness to come inside of me a shake things up - so they can be put into place again. Not my place, but God's.
Let the countdown begin, because when the camp "ball" drops, anything is possible.
Sunday, August 08, 2004
Quote of the Week: Water
"Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup,
You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle,
You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot.
Now water can flow or it can crash!
Be water, my friend." -- Bruce Lee
You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle,
You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot.
Now water can flow or it can crash!
Be water, my friend." -- Bruce Lee
Saturday, August 07, 2004
I.F.'s epiphany
I had an epiphany this afternoon at approximately 2pm. It occured upstairs at the James Prendergast Library in the corner aisle bordering Washington & Fifth. The epiphany was as follows:
My unhappiness in life stems from not being myself.
I will contemplate this phrase until I recieve enlightenment. Or I will sell it to a fortune cookie manufacter. I haven't decided yet.
P.S. I'm not gay!
My unhappiness in life stems from not being myself.
I will contemplate this phrase until I recieve enlightenment. Or I will sell it to a fortune cookie manufacter. I haven't decided yet.
P.S. I'm not gay!
Walking on Water
Fear is a funny thing. The things that people can be afraid of don’t seem to have any limitations. As children we’re often afraid of imaginary things that our unlimited creativity seems to spout out without much effort. As adults, we are often more afraid of tangible or realistic things. Things like our kids getting sick, not being able to pay the bills or being rejected by the people we care about. If I give you a minute, I’ll bet you can come up with something you were afraid of when you were little and something you’re afraid of now. As you compare the two things you fear, they may seem to be very unrelated – but the emotional reaction is the same. Fear paralyzes you.
During his years as premier of the Soviet Union, Nikita Khrushchev denounced many of the policies and atrocities of Joseph Stalin. Once, as he censured Stalin in a public meeting, Khrushchev was interrupted by a shout from a heckler in the audience. "You were one of Stalin's colleagues. Why didn't you stop him?" "Who said that?" roared Khrushchev. An agonizing silence followed as nobody in the room dared move a muscle. Everyone was paralyzed with fear.
Then Khrushchev replied quietly, "Now you know why."
Although Khrushchev demonstrated the fear Stalin was able to exude over himself and the Soviet people, Stalin wasn’t free from fear himself.
It is said that the Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin so feared for his safety that his residence in Moscow contained eight bedrooms. Each night Stalin chose a bedroom at random to ensure that no one knew exactly where he was sleeping.
Stalin feared for his safety and lost much sleep over ways to keep himself safe. Khrushchev was afraid of what Stalin could do, until he was removed from power. Fear is something that we all have to face at some point in our lives. If you don’t take a moment to consider how you deal with your fear, you may find yourself frozen by its power to paralyze.
Jesus and his disciples spent a great deal of their time traveling about and ministering to the masses of people that were sick and hurting. It can be easy to assume that the disciples were always filled with peace and solitude because they spent so much time with Jesus. The disciples struggled with fear and discouragement regularly, even though they lived and worked with Jesus for about three years. Matthew 14:22-33, shows us how much the disciples needed Jesus’ help to live life without being paralyzed by fear.
Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.
During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear.
But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
"Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water."
"Come," he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?"
And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."
The disciples felt like they were alone – possibly abandoned. Even though they were experienced fishermen, the rough water and wind frightened them.
Jesus knew where they were.
Jesus went looking for them. He knew they would be scared.
Jesus called out to them to comfort them.
The disciples thought Jesus was a ghost because they were so unsettled. Peter was upset, but he didn’t allow his fear to paralyze him. Peter got out of the boat, but when he saw the danger around him he panicked. Peter started to sink. He called for help.
Jesus immediately pulled him out of the water, climbed into the boat with the disciples, and the wind stopped.
The disciples worshiped Jesus after seeing his ability to care for them and protect them.
Jesus words and actions throughout this stormy night provided a great deal of comfort to his disciples. I think that these same words can provide us with the same comfort we all need when the concerns and worries of our lives are about to paralyze us.
During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.
It can be hard to understand, but the fact remains that Jesus knows where we are and is looking for ways to get our attention. He understands the difficulties we’re facing more than we do. It is His desire to find us where we are, so he can take us to safety.
But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
Jesus words were heard through the wind and the waves. Peter remembered enough about what Jesus had taught him to respond to his voice. Remembering God, holding on to courage and letting go of fear is the only way we are every going to get out of the boat.
"Come," he said.
Sometimes a fearful situation requires us to move out of our comfort zone. Just as Jesus called Peter out of the boat – he calls us out. If we keep moving toward God, we will move farther away from fear.
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down.
To be honest, I don’t think that Jesus was surprised that Peter panicked once he left the safety of the boat. Jesus understands how frightening it is to step into situations that are unsure. That’s why he had his hand out waiting for Peter. Jesus didn’t wait to see if Peter could swim, he was ready and prepared to rescue him. I think that Jesus would have liked to see more faith in the reactions of the disciples, instead of asking them about their doubts. But just as he asked them why they had doubted, he calmed the winds. Jesus understands the need we all have for peace and clarity. Just like a child can’t learn their alphabet on a hungry stomach, we can’t accept that peace exists when there is a storm raging around or inside of us.
So what storm is raging in your life today? Fear, anxiety, and hurt can cause us to forget the peace and comfort Jesus offers just like the disciples did. We can begin to forget the sound of his voice, or just not be able to hear over the raging storm around us. So just as Peter called out into the storm, you can to. Don’t stay in a boat that’s being tossed about in the chaos of life. Come out and meet Jesus on the water. Although your faith may be small, he can calm the storm and take you to safety. Jesus can be your bridge over troubled water. Inside and out.
During his years as premier of the Soviet Union, Nikita Khrushchev denounced many of the policies and atrocities of Joseph Stalin. Once, as he censured Stalin in a public meeting, Khrushchev was interrupted by a shout from a heckler in the audience. "You were one of Stalin's colleagues. Why didn't you stop him?" "Who said that?" roared Khrushchev. An agonizing silence followed as nobody in the room dared move a muscle. Everyone was paralyzed with fear.
Then Khrushchev replied quietly, "Now you know why."
Although Khrushchev demonstrated the fear Stalin was able to exude over himself and the Soviet people, Stalin wasn’t free from fear himself.
It is said that the Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin so feared for his safety that his residence in Moscow contained eight bedrooms. Each night Stalin chose a bedroom at random to ensure that no one knew exactly where he was sleeping.
Stalin feared for his safety and lost much sleep over ways to keep himself safe. Khrushchev was afraid of what Stalin could do, until he was removed from power. Fear is something that we all have to face at some point in our lives. If you don’t take a moment to consider how you deal with your fear, you may find yourself frozen by its power to paralyze.
Jesus and his disciples spent a great deal of their time traveling about and ministering to the masses of people that were sick and hurting. It can be easy to assume that the disciples were always filled with peace and solitude because they spent so much time with Jesus. The disciples struggled with fear and discouragement regularly, even though they lived and worked with Jesus for about three years. Matthew 14:22-33, shows us how much the disciples needed Jesus’ help to live life without being paralyzed by fear.
Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.
During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear.
But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
"Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water."
"Come," he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?"
And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."
The disciples felt like they were alone – possibly abandoned. Even though they were experienced fishermen, the rough water and wind frightened them.
Jesus knew where they were.
Jesus went looking for them. He knew they would be scared.
Jesus called out to them to comfort them.
The disciples thought Jesus was a ghost because they were so unsettled. Peter was upset, but he didn’t allow his fear to paralyze him. Peter got out of the boat, but when he saw the danger around him he panicked. Peter started to sink. He called for help.
Jesus immediately pulled him out of the water, climbed into the boat with the disciples, and the wind stopped.
The disciples worshiped Jesus after seeing his ability to care for them and protect them.
Jesus words and actions throughout this stormy night provided a great deal of comfort to his disciples. I think that these same words can provide us with the same comfort we all need when the concerns and worries of our lives are about to paralyze us.
During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.
It can be hard to understand, but the fact remains that Jesus knows where we are and is looking for ways to get our attention. He understands the difficulties we’re facing more than we do. It is His desire to find us where we are, so he can take us to safety.
But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
Jesus words were heard through the wind and the waves. Peter remembered enough about what Jesus had taught him to respond to his voice. Remembering God, holding on to courage and letting go of fear is the only way we are every going to get out of the boat.
"Come," he said.
Sometimes a fearful situation requires us to move out of our comfort zone. Just as Jesus called Peter out of the boat – he calls us out. If we keep moving toward God, we will move farther away from fear.
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down.
To be honest, I don’t think that Jesus was surprised that Peter panicked once he left the safety of the boat. Jesus understands how frightening it is to step into situations that are unsure. That’s why he had his hand out waiting for Peter. Jesus didn’t wait to see if Peter could swim, he was ready and prepared to rescue him. I think that Jesus would have liked to see more faith in the reactions of the disciples, instead of asking them about their doubts. But just as he asked them why they had doubted, he calmed the winds. Jesus understands the need we all have for peace and clarity. Just like a child can’t learn their alphabet on a hungry stomach, we can’t accept that peace exists when there is a storm raging around or inside of us.
So what storm is raging in your life today? Fear, anxiety, and hurt can cause us to forget the peace and comfort Jesus offers just like the disciples did. We can begin to forget the sound of his voice, or just not be able to hear over the raging storm around us. So just as Peter called out into the storm, you can to. Don’t stay in a boat that’s being tossed about in the chaos of life. Come out and meet Jesus on the water. Although your faith may be small, he can calm the storm and take you to safety. Jesus can be your bridge over troubled water. Inside and out.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
The Fool on the Will
I work at a church, although you would never guess it from spending time there. Oh, we can pull it together for some meetings on the Sabbath, but as anyone who has ever worked in a religious organization can tell you, Sunday is just a small part of the work. For a variety of reasons -- financial, clashing personalities, differing expectations, the world, the flesh, and the devil -- the place has turned a source of stress for everyone involved. It may be listed in the phone book under church, but what we're building seems like anything but.
How do you measure a church's success? The number of people packing the pews? A lot of programs? A nice property? Money in the bank? I think an equally important rubrik should include the Christlikeness of the people who dwell therein. Taking a look at the scriptures I see some of the qualities that should be evident:
* love; joy; peace; patience; kindness; goodness; faithfulness; gentleness; self-control (Galatians 5:22)
* tender mercy; kindness; humility; meekness; patience (Colossians 3:12-16)
* true; noble; just; pure; lovely; of good report; virtuous; worthy of praise (Phillipians 4:8)
* love that suffers long; is kind; does not envy; does not parade itself; does not get 'puffed up'; does not behave rudely; is not provoked; does not think evilly, nor rejoice in sin; rejoices in the truth; bears all things; believes all things; hopes all things; endures all things (1 Corinthians 13)
I don't know what we're all building, but using this criteria I can't say it's a church.
The other day I had an interesting experience. I had a coworker blow up at me. The ouburst was unprovoked, but what was interesting was what he said to me: among many other things, he said I wasn't a Christian. I remained silent so as not to escalate his anger, and refrained from giving him a lecture on the theology of salvation.
As I reflected on the days events that evening I really thought about what he said. I thought, "How judgemental. How misguided. How immature." But then I thought about it some more. Prayed about it. And I tried to see things from his point of view. What has my attitude been like these last few months? Confused... depressed... angry... impatient... easily provoked... divisive...
Darn. My coworker was absolutely right.
It's a baffling business. But I realize that it's not on Sunday mornings behind a pulpit that showcases my Christianity. It's my attitude and actions in the pressure cooker environment of the office in which my faith will be made real or not.
How do you measure a church's success? The number of people packing the pews? A lot of programs? A nice property? Money in the bank? I think an equally important rubrik should include the Christlikeness of the people who dwell therein. Taking a look at the scriptures I see some of the qualities that should be evident:
* love; joy; peace; patience; kindness; goodness; faithfulness; gentleness; self-control (Galatians 5:22)
* tender mercy; kindness; humility; meekness; patience (Colossians 3:12-16)
* true; noble; just; pure; lovely; of good report; virtuous; worthy of praise (Phillipians 4:8)
* love that suffers long; is kind; does not envy; does not parade itself; does not get 'puffed up'; does not behave rudely; is not provoked; does not think evilly, nor rejoice in sin; rejoices in the truth; bears all things; believes all things; hopes all things; endures all things (1 Corinthians 13)
I don't know what we're all building, but using this criteria I can't say it's a church.
The other day I had an interesting experience. I had a coworker blow up at me. The ouburst was unprovoked, but what was interesting was what he said to me: among many other things, he said I wasn't a Christian. I remained silent so as not to escalate his anger, and refrained from giving him a lecture on the theology of salvation.
As I reflected on the days events that evening I really thought about what he said. I thought, "How judgemental. How misguided. How immature." But then I thought about it some more. Prayed about it. And I tried to see things from his point of view. What has my attitude been like these last few months? Confused... depressed... angry... impatient... easily provoked... divisive...
Darn. My coworker was absolutely right.
It's a baffling business. But I realize that it's not on Sunday mornings behind a pulpit that showcases my Christianity. It's my attitude and actions in the pressure cooker environment of the office in which my faith will be made real or not.
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