I know you've heard it said a million times: "Christmas is about the kids!" I have to admit, to be honest, there is the believer and pastor side of me that says "No, it's about THE kid...or better, child, namely Jesus." And, if I am to be COMPLETELY honest, it's probably said with a touch of sarcasm mainly directed at the comment seeming somewhat trite. That all changed this week.
On Friday, our granddaughter Madyson came to spend a couple of weeks with us. It was amazing to me how life perked up. Not that it was necessarily drab prior to her arrival, but there was a new element introduced; the element of simplicity and excitement.
Now, I'm feeling the need to be quick to say up front that I love Christmas and I am not a Scrooge, but I, like many of you, feel the stress of the season. I too wonder if I've done enough, if I've gotten the right things for people, etc. Add to that thoughts like "Is the sermon meaningful enough? Did I take enough time with the text? What about the Sunday after Christmas? Do we have enough candles for folks to hold?" All of this adds up quickly to a jumbled mind and some what worn out emotions.
But I have been fortunate enough to balance that with walking in the backyard watching Maddy make "leaf soup" in the large planter. I had the fun of driving to Legendary Doughnuts with her to pick out doughnuts the morning after she arrived. I got to watch her face as she eyed the Rudolph doughnut (which she barely ate!). I had the chance to walk along side her as she navigated the driveway on her princess bike (although I couldn't explain how not to brake while she pedaled). And, my personal favorite, I got to resurrect the "snuggle chair" for a couple of evening readings of "My Big God" and "Goodnight Moon" and "Guess How Much I Love You?".
It was the pace I really needed.
And if you're there right now; if you're finding yourself chasing deadlines and last minute price reductions, I recommend a child's pace instead.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
The High Cost of Going Home
My wife and I had the opportunity to attend, and myself, officiate, the wedding of some family friends in Austin, Texas. We traveled home and timed our arrival with the big pre-Thanksgiving snow storm of 2010. It was costly.
The final leg of our flight was from San Jose, California to Seattle. There was some question as to whether we would even take off due to rough weather in Seattle and an overworked flight crew on this 737. However, take off we did and while on approach the storm became much more visible. The runway, however, was not...at least not to us. Thank the Lord for instrument landings.
Once on the ground, and after the resolution of some baggage issues, we were ready to figure out the next step; getting home to our town of Bonney Lake, some 30 minutes south of the airport. Remember that number, 30 minutes. That will become crucial in just a moment.
We decided it was best not to ask our son to venture out in the weather. All that we were hearing was that the roads in and around the Puget Sound were snow packed and icy and that there were cars off roads in all directions. So, we figured the best bet would be to find a hotel close to the airport and spend the night. We began working on that project at 11:30 p.m. All of the travelers who landed before us, and they were legion, had the same thought. I got the same response from every person at every reservation desk: "I'm sorry, sir, we're completely sold out for tonight." And, they went on to share, so are all of the Seatac area hotels.
Knowing that we were only 30 minutes from home, I then reasoned that renting a vehicle would be about the same cost as a hotel room for the night, and at least gets us to our own bed. So off to the rental counter I went and some $200 later, Elizabeth and I were in a warm and cozy Jeep Laredo exiting the airport. Remember now, 30 minutes from home.
After 11 years in Colorado, I pretty much have the icy and snow packed road driving down. But not everyone in the Puget Sound region has had the same experience I have. That became obvious as we viewed the continual post apocalyptic like scene at various intersections: cars off the sides of the road, not even pointing in the right direction and, in some cases, not even out of the lanes. However, they did have this in common; they were all abandoned. It was the perfect blend of winter wonderland and ghost town. I was motivated, however. I just wanted to get home. I paid dearly for this jeep to get me there. I just want my own bed. So, we pushed on.
Things hit a major snag, however, as we were leaving highway 167 for highway 410. By now we can virtually see our neighborhood as it sits on a hill. But, as we pulled onto the on ramp and realized the traffic was completely stopped, seeing it would be all that we were afforded for some 2 more hours. Icy conditions, a stuck truck, two cars off the road, and a busy yet still kind Washington State Patrol officer was now our life for the next 2 plus hours. We talked, we listened to callers talk of their experiences on the local call in shows, we even texted our son who was doing the same thing going in the opposite direction on I-5. We weren't moving. We just wanted to get home. We could see it, but we could not have it. Not yet.
Finally, close to 3 am, we were escorted backwards off the on ramp so that we could rejoin the freeway and find another way home; this one would remain closed. Somewhere close to 3:30 a.m. we walked in our front door. Hadn't we begun the day by leaving Austin airport at 1:00 or so? Didn't we leave the rental car facility at 11:30 p.m. YESTERDAY? Ah...the high cost of getting home; both in time and in dollars. But it was so good to get there.
As we draw near to the Christmas season, I'm reminded of the command for Mary and Joseph to "go home" so they could register for the coming taxation that Caesar Augustus was ordering. The high cost of going home for them involved spending the night in a barn since the local inn was full. Their baby was laid in a feeding trough since they were not indoors where it would have been presumably more comfortable. That same baby, born in that barn, laid in the trough, would die on a cross a horrible death before he finally went home to the Father. Now that's the high cost of going home! Mine pales in light of His. My goal was self; my bed, my home, my family. His goal was also my life, and yours.
Now, that's the high cost of going home!
The final leg of our flight was from San Jose, California to Seattle. There was some question as to whether we would even take off due to rough weather in Seattle and an overworked flight crew on this 737. However, take off we did and while on approach the storm became much more visible. The runway, however, was not...at least not to us. Thank the Lord for instrument landings.
Once on the ground, and after the resolution of some baggage issues, we were ready to figure out the next step; getting home to our town of Bonney Lake, some 30 minutes south of the airport. Remember that number, 30 minutes. That will become crucial in just a moment.
We decided it was best not to ask our son to venture out in the weather. All that we were hearing was that the roads in and around the Puget Sound were snow packed and icy and that there were cars off roads in all directions. So, we figured the best bet would be to find a hotel close to the airport and spend the night. We began working on that project at 11:30 p.m. All of the travelers who landed before us, and they were legion, had the same thought. I got the same response from every person at every reservation desk: "I'm sorry, sir, we're completely sold out for tonight." And, they went on to share, so are all of the Seatac area hotels.
Knowing that we were only 30 minutes from home, I then reasoned that renting a vehicle would be about the same cost as a hotel room for the night, and at least gets us to our own bed. So off to the rental counter I went and some $200 later, Elizabeth and I were in a warm and cozy Jeep Laredo exiting the airport. Remember now, 30 minutes from home.
After 11 years in Colorado, I pretty much have the icy and snow packed road driving down. But not everyone in the Puget Sound region has had the same experience I have. That became obvious as we viewed the continual post apocalyptic like scene at various intersections: cars off the sides of the road, not even pointing in the right direction and, in some cases, not even out of the lanes. However, they did have this in common; they were all abandoned. It was the perfect blend of winter wonderland and ghost town. I was motivated, however. I just wanted to get home. I paid dearly for this jeep to get me there. I just want my own bed. So, we pushed on.
Things hit a major snag, however, as we were leaving highway 167 for highway 410. By now we can virtually see our neighborhood as it sits on a hill. But, as we pulled onto the on ramp and realized the traffic was completely stopped, seeing it would be all that we were afforded for some 2 more hours. Icy conditions, a stuck truck, two cars off the road, and a busy yet still kind Washington State Patrol officer was now our life for the next 2 plus hours. We talked, we listened to callers talk of their experiences on the local call in shows, we even texted our son who was doing the same thing going in the opposite direction on I-5. We weren't moving. We just wanted to get home. We could see it, but we could not have it. Not yet.
Finally, close to 3 am, we were escorted backwards off the on ramp so that we could rejoin the freeway and find another way home; this one would remain closed. Somewhere close to 3:30 a.m. we walked in our front door. Hadn't we begun the day by leaving Austin airport at 1:00 or so? Didn't we leave the rental car facility at 11:30 p.m. YESTERDAY? Ah...the high cost of getting home; both in time and in dollars. But it was so good to get there.
As we draw near to the Christmas season, I'm reminded of the command for Mary and Joseph to "go home" so they could register for the coming taxation that Caesar Augustus was ordering. The high cost of going home for them involved spending the night in a barn since the local inn was full. Their baby was laid in a feeding trough since they were not indoors where it would have been presumably more comfortable. That same baby, born in that barn, laid in the trough, would die on a cross a horrible death before he finally went home to the Father. Now that's the high cost of going home! Mine pales in light of His. My goal was self; my bed, my home, my family. His goal was also my life, and yours.
Now, that's the high cost of going home!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Who Would Have Thought!
The proverbial comparison for anything that is impending which you dread seems to be the root canal. Once again, the poor dentist is the brunt of every ones least desired anticipation in life. You've heard it said, and have perhaps uttered it yourself: "I could do such and such, or I could have a root canal!" which is nothing more than saying "This is the LAST thing I want to go through."
Well, the ultimate in contrasts and comparisons came flooding into my life on Tuesday. A little history first.
I don't hate dentists. I don't fear dentists. I dislike pain. Unfortunately, my history has been that pain and dentists, while not synonymous, are at least distant cousins. So, as I was munching away on a small Halloween sized Hershey bar on Friday and felt something chunky (which was odd since it was not a Hersey with almonds bar!) my immediate thought was one of doom. I will need to go to the dentist. I felt a cavernous hole in one tooth on my right side. I knew what was to come.
And so an appointment was made for 4:00 p.m. on Tuesday. Oddly enough, this was also the day our elders were meeting, at 6:30 p.m. to have the final vote on the church's 2011 budget. It appeared the perfect storm was aligning itself: a dentist appointment at 4 and a budget meeting at 6:30! The storm only intensified when in the dentist's chair I was told that I would need not only a crown for this broken bicuspid but also a root canal. My dentist (an amazing gentleman, by the way) assured me that I could have it all! I could receive at least a temporary crown, if not the real deal, a root canal, and still make the budget meeting at 6:30! He was right. By 6:15 I was driving back to church, a bit numb, but the recipient of a diadem on a tooth, a root canal, and was headed for the budget show down!
Fast forwarding to the conclusion, I am happy to relate that if given the choice; a budget meeting or a root canal, I'd still take them both on the same night! Why could I say that? Well partially due to the gift of Novocaine, but also because of prayer.
I spent time earlier in the afternoon walking through the room where the budget meeting was to be held. Being a pastor for some 27 years I am somewhat aware of what budget meetings have the potential of becoming; all out war over line items. But I also knew that it didn't have to become that! I knew, and found myself prompted to act on the knowledge, that God is so much bigger than that. So my prayer, in the room that afternoon, was "Lord, let us abandon our agendas in favor of yours. Let us glorify you even in how we discuss these sensitive things. May we bring glory to you in this whole process."
I'm glad to say now with the gift of retro-vision, that the meeting went fine and a budget was passed and we exited the room unified (and relatively early!) and ready to meet the challenges of a new year. Even in the midst of a slightly tingling face as the Novocaine wore off, I could smile at how God's Spirit works, even when we think it can't get any worse!
Well, the ultimate in contrasts and comparisons came flooding into my life on Tuesday. A little history first.
I don't hate dentists. I don't fear dentists. I dislike pain. Unfortunately, my history has been that pain and dentists, while not synonymous, are at least distant cousins. So, as I was munching away on a small Halloween sized Hershey bar on Friday and felt something chunky (which was odd since it was not a Hersey with almonds bar!) my immediate thought was one of doom. I will need to go to the dentist. I felt a cavernous hole in one tooth on my right side. I knew what was to come.
And so an appointment was made for 4:00 p.m. on Tuesday. Oddly enough, this was also the day our elders were meeting, at 6:30 p.m. to have the final vote on the church's 2011 budget. It appeared the perfect storm was aligning itself: a dentist appointment at 4 and a budget meeting at 6:30! The storm only intensified when in the dentist's chair I was told that I would need not only a crown for this broken bicuspid but also a root canal. My dentist (an amazing gentleman, by the way) assured me that I could have it all! I could receive at least a temporary crown, if not the real deal, a root canal, and still make the budget meeting at 6:30! He was right. By 6:15 I was driving back to church, a bit numb, but the recipient of a diadem on a tooth, a root canal, and was headed for the budget show down!
Fast forwarding to the conclusion, I am happy to relate that if given the choice; a budget meeting or a root canal, I'd still take them both on the same night! Why could I say that? Well partially due to the gift of Novocaine, but also because of prayer.
I spent time earlier in the afternoon walking through the room where the budget meeting was to be held. Being a pastor for some 27 years I am somewhat aware of what budget meetings have the potential of becoming; all out war over line items. But I also knew that it didn't have to become that! I knew, and found myself prompted to act on the knowledge, that God is so much bigger than that. So my prayer, in the room that afternoon, was "Lord, let us abandon our agendas in favor of yours. Let us glorify you even in how we discuss these sensitive things. May we bring glory to you in this whole process."
I'm glad to say now with the gift of retro-vision, that the meeting went fine and a budget was passed and we exited the room unified (and relatively early!) and ready to meet the challenges of a new year. Even in the midst of a slightly tingling face as the Novocaine wore off, I could smile at how God's Spirit works, even when we think it can't get any worse!
Monday, November 1, 2010
The Day After Tomorrow
There are certain days to which I really look forward. Some obscure, some predictable. For instance, under the heading "predictable" I'd list Christmas Eve. Ever since I was a kid I could not wait for that day. In a strange way, even sometimes more than Christmas Day itself. All of the anticipation and joy for what's to come seem to culminate and, in a strange way, hold an even greater sense of excitement than the next day itself!
Under the "obscure" section I have three that stand out. One is a generally "undetermined until the last minute" day, usually sometime in February. It's the day that pitchers and catchers report to their respective training camps signaling the beginning of spring training, which then leads to the start of the regular season of baseball. I know, obscure. But I can't wait.
Another obscure day is December 22nd or 23rd. It's the day on the calendar when the days begin to get longer. The shortest day of the year is generally December 21st (although that sometimes changes by a few hours in one direction or another) so the day following is when the days begin to legthen, if even by a minute or so. It begins to point to the coming of summer. I know, obscure.
The last of my obscure days generally happens every two years. It is the first Wednesday in the month of November. It's always that day because it is the day after the first Tuesday of the month, which is election day. So that means that every two years when we are in either a mid-term or Presidential cycle of elections, all of the ads on television and raido have to stop on Wednesday since the election is over. I know, obscure. But I REALLY can't wait.
I weary of the "he said, she said" kind of mentality that creeps into the election process. I grow tired of the constant berating of our ears as to why this candidate shouldn't be considered rather than why this one should.
Someone said something very wise to me coming out of church yesterday. I had commented on the passage in Revelation chapter five when it appears that the scroll God is holding, while sitting on the throne, contains what is yet to unfold in history (see Revelation 5: 6-14..or go to www.Wabashpres.com and listen to the sermon [cheap plug, I know!]). So in a very real way, God holds our history in his hands. This gentleman remarked that the politicians need to remember that. He bemoaned the fact that those that jockey for political position seem to think that somehow they hold our futures rather than God. He then went on to comment that there will come a day when they might be surprised. That there is coming a day when all of history comes to fruition and the one that holds it in his hand will not be representing any political party, but rather will be the one to whom each party will answer.
Nothing obscure about that day!
Under the "obscure" section I have three that stand out. One is a generally "undetermined until the last minute" day, usually sometime in February. It's the day that pitchers and catchers report to their respective training camps signaling the beginning of spring training, which then leads to the start of the regular season of baseball. I know, obscure. But I can't wait.
Another obscure day is December 22nd or 23rd. It's the day on the calendar when the days begin to get longer. The shortest day of the year is generally December 21st (although that sometimes changes by a few hours in one direction or another) so the day following is when the days begin to legthen, if even by a minute or so. It begins to point to the coming of summer. I know, obscure.
The last of my obscure days generally happens every two years. It is the first Wednesday in the month of November. It's always that day because it is the day after the first Tuesday of the month, which is election day. So that means that every two years when we are in either a mid-term or Presidential cycle of elections, all of the ads on television and raido have to stop on Wednesday since the election is over. I know, obscure. But I REALLY can't wait.
I weary of the "he said, she said" kind of mentality that creeps into the election process. I grow tired of the constant berating of our ears as to why this candidate shouldn't be considered rather than why this one should.
Someone said something very wise to me coming out of church yesterday. I had commented on the passage in Revelation chapter five when it appears that the scroll God is holding, while sitting on the throne, contains what is yet to unfold in history (see Revelation 5: 6-14..or go to www.Wabashpres.com and listen to the sermon [cheap plug, I know!]). So in a very real way, God holds our history in his hands. This gentleman remarked that the politicians need to remember that. He bemoaned the fact that those that jockey for political position seem to think that somehow they hold our futures rather than God. He then went on to comment that there will come a day when they might be surprised. That there is coming a day when all of history comes to fruition and the one that holds it in his hand will not be representing any political party, but rather will be the one to whom each party will answer.
Nothing obscure about that day!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Fighting for Last
When was the last time you saw a story about people fighting to be last? I imagine it's been some time, if at all.
We don't fight to come in last. We don't strive to be behind someone else. We don't struggle to take the final spot in line, unless by final we mean the last spot available for something truly desirous.
No, I'm talking about being last. The end. It's generally not coveted.
Unless you're a Chilean miner.
If you've been following the story you know that there are some 33 miners trapped in a mine shaft in Chile a bit below 2,000 feet. They've resided there for two months. Today they have announced that the test of a capsule into which the miners will crawl, individually, to be lifted to the surface, was successful and they hope to begin bringing them out this week. And that's where the battle ensued; the battle over who would be last.
The news report that broadcast this as I was on my way into the office today didn't elaborate except to say that there was this "good natured" battle for last place. It struck me odd since it is the total antithesis of what we are inclined to nearly since day one.
First place is the bomb. Being number one is what it's all about whether you're competing in sports or in the financial markets or just on the job. We all learn from the start to desire first. The move to the end of the line is at best counter cultural. For many, its down right foreign.
It wasn't to Jesus, however. Paul made sure we knew that. He told us that this "quest for last" type attitude was what was to typify us. He told the church at Philippi, "...in humility, consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others."
Now we all have moments when we push ourselves into compliance with this less than regular routine. We will allow someone to go ahead of us at the store if they have just one or two items. We may even slow down to allow someone to merge who has waited until the last minute. And, if we're really in a giving mood, we'll do that for someone that hasn't even put on their turn signal! What's worse, we'll pat ourselves on the back and feel as if we've really done well. But, I think Paul was aiming at something more consistent here. I think he was shooting for a 24/7 kind of attitude.
And, since there were no Safeways or I-405's then, he was writing this to a church and his goal
was that our dealings in the church would be characteristic of this kind of "you first, me last" attitude. As one comedian use to say, "Oh, well that's very different, then, isn't it!"
It's odd, is it not, that our "Paul instructed" kind of attitude is lived out with more difficulty at church than in the marketplace? No problem letting the VW bug cut in, but if you don't sing my music, well that's unforgivable. Sixteen items in the "fifteen maximum" line, I'll let you through. But if you think I'm bending my attitude as to how long worship should last, you've got another thing coming!
Let's start a fight in the church. Let's fight for last place. And go ahead...you first.
We don't fight to come in last. We don't strive to be behind someone else. We don't struggle to take the final spot in line, unless by final we mean the last spot available for something truly desirous.
No, I'm talking about being last. The end. It's generally not coveted.
Unless you're a Chilean miner.
If you've been following the story you know that there are some 33 miners trapped in a mine shaft in Chile a bit below 2,000 feet. They've resided there for two months. Today they have announced that the test of a capsule into which the miners will crawl, individually, to be lifted to the surface, was successful and they hope to begin bringing them out this week. And that's where the battle ensued; the battle over who would be last.
The news report that broadcast this as I was on my way into the office today didn't elaborate except to say that there was this "good natured" battle for last place. It struck me odd since it is the total antithesis of what we are inclined to nearly since day one.
First place is the bomb. Being number one is what it's all about whether you're competing in sports or in the financial markets or just on the job. We all learn from the start to desire first. The move to the end of the line is at best counter cultural. For many, its down right foreign.
It wasn't to Jesus, however. Paul made sure we knew that. He told us that this "quest for last" type attitude was what was to typify us. He told the church at Philippi, "...in humility, consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others."
Now we all have moments when we push ourselves into compliance with this less than regular routine. We will allow someone to go ahead of us at the store if they have just one or two items. We may even slow down to allow someone to merge who has waited until the last minute. And, if we're really in a giving mood, we'll do that for someone that hasn't even put on their turn signal! What's worse, we'll pat ourselves on the back and feel as if we've really done well. But, I think Paul was aiming at something more consistent here. I think he was shooting for a 24/7 kind of attitude.
And, since there were no Safeways or I-405's then, he was writing this to a church and his goal
was that our dealings in the church would be characteristic of this kind of "you first, me last" attitude. As one comedian use to say, "Oh, well that's very different, then, isn't it!"
It's odd, is it not, that our "Paul instructed" kind of attitude is lived out with more difficulty at church than in the marketplace? No problem letting the VW bug cut in, but if you don't sing my music, well that's unforgivable. Sixteen items in the "fifteen maximum" line, I'll let you through. But if you think I'm bending my attitude as to how long worship should last, you've got another thing coming!
Let's start a fight in the church. Let's fight for last place. And go ahead...you first.
Monday, October 4, 2010
A Fresh Start
I finally have found someone else that likes Mondays!
I saw a Facebook status of a former student of mine who asked "Is it weired that Monday is my favorite day?" I have yet to reply to his posting, but I intend to encourage him with words from an equally weired perspective. I love Mondays.
I'm sure it has something to do with being a pastor and that Sunday is such a busy, exhausting, and climatic day. The majority of my week is working toward Sunday, so what Monday represents is a new start to a new goal; the following Sunday.
My Monday morning routine once I hit the office is filing away the clutter of paper that gets dropped on my desk in between and following Sunday services. After checking emails and answering those that need to be answered right away, I pull out my calendar and a pad and begin a "to do" list for the coming week. Often, by noon or so on Monday, the rest of the week is fully booked. What were nearly blank squares on my calendar are now filled with times and names. And with that, I'm off and running toward Sunday again, with the knowledge that by next Monday it will all begin again.
But what I've come to relish is the fresh start. The "clean slate" feel of Mondays. I have many times come before the Lord on Monday mornings with a simple request: "What do you want to show me in this new week? What would you have me to do in this new week? What do you want me to say when your people gather at the close of this week and the beginning of the next?"
Perhaps for you Mondays are not so sweet. Maybe they are filled with agony of another week before you. Mondays, for some, are filled with regrets from the previous weekend. Words said carelessly; actions pursued without adquate forethought. For some, Monday is a "mop up" day from the "spills" of the weekend.
May I begin your week (if you are indeed reading this on Monday) with a reminder from the book of Lamentations? Even the writer (who we think is probably Jeremiah) was having what many would see as a "Monday" type of experience. In chapter 3, beginning with verse 19, he writes:
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
So not only on Mondays, but the rest of the week, freshness and newness is yours because of the Lord's great love. Even in the midst of a downcast soul (like Jeremiah) it takes but "calling to mind" the compassion of the Lord to be renewed in his faithfulness. So, happy Monday!
I saw a Facebook status of a former student of mine who asked "Is it weired that Monday is my favorite day?" I have yet to reply to his posting, but I intend to encourage him with words from an equally weired perspective. I love Mondays.
I'm sure it has something to do with being a pastor and that Sunday is such a busy, exhausting, and climatic day. The majority of my week is working toward Sunday, so what Monday represents is a new start to a new goal; the following Sunday.
My Monday morning routine once I hit the office is filing away the clutter of paper that gets dropped on my desk in between and following Sunday services. After checking emails and answering those that need to be answered right away, I pull out my calendar and a pad and begin a "to do" list for the coming week. Often, by noon or so on Monday, the rest of the week is fully booked. What were nearly blank squares on my calendar are now filled with times and names. And with that, I'm off and running toward Sunday again, with the knowledge that by next Monday it will all begin again.
But what I've come to relish is the fresh start. The "clean slate" feel of Mondays. I have many times come before the Lord on Monday mornings with a simple request: "What do you want to show me in this new week? What would you have me to do in this new week? What do you want me to say when your people gather at the close of this week and the beginning of the next?"
Perhaps for you Mondays are not so sweet. Maybe they are filled with agony of another week before you. Mondays, for some, are filled with regrets from the previous weekend. Words said carelessly; actions pursued without adquate forethought. For some, Monday is a "mop up" day from the "spills" of the weekend.
May I begin your week (if you are indeed reading this on Monday) with a reminder from the book of Lamentations? Even the writer (who we think is probably Jeremiah) was having what many would see as a "Monday" type of experience. In chapter 3, beginning with verse 19, he writes:
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
So not only on Mondays, but the rest of the week, freshness and newness is yours because of the Lord's great love. Even in the midst of a downcast soul (like Jeremiah) it takes but "calling to mind" the compassion of the Lord to be renewed in his faithfulness. So, happy Monday!
Monday, September 27, 2010
Not All Clutter is Bad
Looking across my desk this morning, I realize that it started out very clean at 7:50 this morning. It's already cluttered. But that's not all bad. It can remind me (and you, I hope) of God's grace. Let me explain.
Working left to right, I notice the first piece of paper reminds me of something I need to cover with my staff tomorrow in our staff meeting. It also speaks to me of how fortunate I am to have such a great staff working along side of me in the cause of proclaiming Jesus.
Next to that is a page from a yellow pad which has lots written on it that is now crossed off. It was last week's "to do" list. Seeing items crossed off reminds me that God enabled me, last week, to complete a multiplicity of tasks while it also speaks of his ability to do that this week as well! God's faithfulness illustrated by pen and ink.
In addition, on that same page, are the scribbles of notes for an Advent series that I began working on last week. It reminds me of the quiet time I had last Thursday when I secluded myself in the Prayer Center here at church so I could do some advance sermon planning. God met me there, I feel, to give me some needed direction for the coming season of Advent, (which isn't that far off!).
My open calendar sits next on the desk revealing the coming week; fairly open so far, but already filling having been in the office over two hours now. To me, a reminder of the opportunities I will have this week to convey the grace of God to those who have cried out in need of some counsel. It also reminds me of my dependence on His grace; I'm insufficient, in and of myself, to give all that they will need.
I could go on, since there's more clutter. But I think I may have made my point. Not all clutter is bad; it can represent a multi-faceted, multi-tasking God who seeks to convey his goodness and grace in every situation, if we'll see it. Perhaps "clutter" is more of what we do, rather than what God does.
Working left to right, I notice the first piece of paper reminds me of something I need to cover with my staff tomorrow in our staff meeting. It also speaks to me of how fortunate I am to have such a great staff working along side of me in the cause of proclaiming Jesus.
Next to that is a page from a yellow pad which has lots written on it that is now crossed off. It was last week's "to do" list. Seeing items crossed off reminds me that God enabled me, last week, to complete a multiplicity of tasks while it also speaks of his ability to do that this week as well! God's faithfulness illustrated by pen and ink.
In addition, on that same page, are the scribbles of notes for an Advent series that I began working on last week. It reminds me of the quiet time I had last Thursday when I secluded myself in the Prayer Center here at church so I could do some advance sermon planning. God met me there, I feel, to give me some needed direction for the coming season of Advent, (which isn't that far off!).
My open calendar sits next on the desk revealing the coming week; fairly open so far, but already filling having been in the office over two hours now. To me, a reminder of the opportunities I will have this week to convey the grace of God to those who have cried out in need of some counsel. It also reminds me of my dependence on His grace; I'm insufficient, in and of myself, to give all that they will need.
I could go on, since there's more clutter. But I think I may have made my point. Not all clutter is bad; it can represent a multi-faceted, multi-tasking God who seeks to convey his goodness and grace in every situation, if we'll see it. Perhaps "clutter" is more of what we do, rather than what God does.
Monday, September 20, 2010
The View from My Window: Alarms and Such
The View from My Window: Alarms and Such: "For some folks, Mondays are tough. The start of a new week after an enjoyable weekend; the switch to responsibility after being able to lay ..."
Alarms and Such
For some folks, Mondays are tough. The start of a new week after an enjoyable weekend; the switch to responsibility after being able to lay low for the weekend is, for some, a "downer." Not for me, I love Mondays. Monday spells newness; a fresh start. Mondays for me are full of "to do" lists, beginning to pick apart a new section of scripture in preparation for Sunday, and every now and again some surprises. Like today.
After dropping my daughter at school, I drove into the church office and had just entered when suddenly the lights went out and a loud and shrill, piercing alarm went off. The room I had entered (a hint; it has the word "rest" in it) was now very dark and there was no way to find the door short of feeling along the wall until I hit it. After only a mild panic attack, I found my way out, went to the church office which was the origin of the now ear shattering alarm. There in front of me was the fire alarm pannel with various lights illuminated and flashing. My dilemma; do I call "911" or the fire alarm company? I walked around the building multiple times and when I was convinced there was no fire, I called the alarm company only to find out the real culprit was a power outage in a portion of the building, which triggered the alarm. No fire, just no power. Finally, our office manager arrived and with one simple push of a button silenced the "ice pick like stab" in my ear.
It made me think of the various alarms that go off in our minds and in our hearts. There are physical alarms that tell us that we might need to get a medical work up. There are emotional alarms that alert us to the need for better stress management. And there are spiritual alarms that signal a need to be more diligent in our appropriation of time with the Lord. For me, those spiritual alarms are subtle (unlike today's). A slight hardening of heart toward people's unfortunate circumstances, a marginal indifference to missing a devotional time, a "detectable only to me" sarcasm in response to the spiritual highlights in an other's life. The real question becomes this: "Do you ignore the alarm, or do you seek out its cause?"
I view the alarm as simply another extension of grace. God doesn't "have to" alert us when we are faltering. He could allow us to go off on our merry way. But, because he loves us, and he desires us to walk closely with him so that he gets glory, he signals when there is something amiss with the system. Are you listening?
After dropping my daughter at school, I drove into the church office and had just entered when suddenly the lights went out and a loud and shrill, piercing alarm went off. The room I had entered (a hint; it has the word "rest" in it) was now very dark and there was no way to find the door short of feeling along the wall until I hit it. After only a mild panic attack, I found my way out, went to the church office which was the origin of the now ear shattering alarm. There in front of me was the fire alarm pannel with various lights illuminated and flashing. My dilemma; do I call "911" or the fire alarm company? I walked around the building multiple times and when I was convinced there was no fire, I called the alarm company only to find out the real culprit was a power outage in a portion of the building, which triggered the alarm. No fire, just no power. Finally, our office manager arrived and with one simple push of a button silenced the "ice pick like stab" in my ear.
It made me think of the various alarms that go off in our minds and in our hearts. There are physical alarms that tell us that we might need to get a medical work up. There are emotional alarms that alert us to the need for better stress management. And there are spiritual alarms that signal a need to be more diligent in our appropriation of time with the Lord. For me, those spiritual alarms are subtle (unlike today's). A slight hardening of heart toward people's unfortunate circumstances, a marginal indifference to missing a devotional time, a "detectable only to me" sarcasm in response to the spiritual highlights in an other's life. The real question becomes this: "Do you ignore the alarm, or do you seek out its cause?"
I view the alarm as simply another extension of grace. God doesn't "have to" alert us when we are faltering. He could allow us to go off on our merry way. But, because he loves us, and he desires us to walk closely with him so that he gets glory, he signals when there is something amiss with the system. Are you listening?
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Inaugural Post
The view out my window...
Here at Wabash Church, the view out of my window in the pastor's study has as its central focus a large wooden cross. I don't know when it was placed there, I don't know by whom, and I have no idea of when it was positioned any thought was given to it's proximity to the office window, but from where I look, it is central.
As I began to consider the whole concept of writing a blog each week, and I began thinking of a title, I recalled a title similar to this (The View Out My Window) but remembering that was not the prime motivator. Truly, my thinking went something like this: "When I look out the window of my office on the busy street, the parking lot which at times is teeming with folks, and even the cloudy skies and rain, the central focus needs to be the cross." It's what we are to be all about; Christ centered...completely.
That can be tough at times. We've got lots that competes for that central focus. As I mentioned in my sermon yesterday, we all too often settle for relegating Jesus to the "spoke" category as opposed to hub. The process of moving Jesus to the center is the practical side of sanctification.
With this inaugural post on this blog site, I invite you to join me in that challenge!
Here at Wabash Church, the view out of my window in the pastor's study has as its central focus a large wooden cross. I don't know when it was placed there, I don't know by whom, and I have no idea of when it was positioned any thought was given to it's proximity to the office window, but from where I look, it is central.
As I began to consider the whole concept of writing a blog each week, and I began thinking of a title, I recalled a title similar to this (The View Out My Window) but remembering that was not the prime motivator. Truly, my thinking went something like this: "When I look out the window of my office on the busy street, the parking lot which at times is teeming with folks, and even the cloudy skies and rain, the central focus needs to be the cross." It's what we are to be all about; Christ centered...completely.
That can be tough at times. We've got lots that competes for that central focus. As I mentioned in my sermon yesterday, we all too often settle for relegating Jesus to the "spoke" category as opposed to hub. The process of moving Jesus to the center is the practical side of sanctification.
With this inaugural post on this blog site, I invite you to join me in that challenge!
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