Interactive Worship Training

We used this a few weeks ago at our weekly meeting. I thought it was hilarious. Kudos to those who made it! How do YOU worship?

Recent God Story II

So yesterday I came to work and found the place trashed. There was junk left everywhere, seriously, it was ugly. And I was so frustrated that for the first time in eight years of ministry, I contemplated quitting. "Is this worth it?" is the question that wafted through my mind. And as I pondered the answer to that question, I cleaned. I cleaned and I sweated. And at the ebb tide of my pity party I was taking the trash out to the dumpster behind our building when I noticed an unopened can of beer just laying there on the grass...

It was as if God Himself placed it there to catch my eye; my own personal burning bush. Only this bush didn't speak out loud, it slapped my upside my metaphorical head. And it shouted, "YO IDIOT! PUT UP OR SHUT UP!" Truly, it was theater of the absurd. I mean, of all the times I taken out the trash, what a perfect--dare I say 'divine'--moment to find a beer! So I picked it up and now it lives in my office, there to remind me that in what I thought was my hour of greatest need, the Lord was laughing.

Did I need a drink? Obviously not, although I wouldv'e told you it was tempting. Did I need a laugh, a slap back to reality? Sure thing, and God delivered.

THE PUBLISHING OF THIS ARTICLE IS IN NO WAY AN ENDORSEMENT OF DRINKING ANY KIND OF ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE. THE BEER IN QUESTION SITS UNOPENED TO THIS VERY DAY AND MAY BE VIEWED UPON REQUEST. IT IS A KEYSTONE ICE, SLIGHTLY DENTED, WITH A FRESHNESS DATE OF JUNE 7, 2007.

Ordinary Life III

SO this week has seen highs and lows all around. On a positive note, I got a team sent off to Peru, and have two more leaving tomorrow for Arlington, TX, and a location to be named later. On the down side, one of our Peru team had to remain behind because the United States Postal Service screwed up his passport and couldn't get it fixed in time. I am NOT feeling warm and fuzzy about them right now. Also, Mandi and the kids are SUPPOSED to come with me to Arlington, but Nate has a bad case of the flu and the rest of us are exposed, so it could be a real fun trip... Meanwhile, Cru was awesome and let us have www.everylion.com, which I pray will be successful. Its nice to have it taken care of. It should be up and running before Spring Break is over, then we can think of an ad strategy. Everyone is maximum stressed right now, so the break couldn't come at a better time. I nailed down a date for Rod Handley to come to Joplin, which is very good, but I'm at the point of losing sleep over the SRBA 2007 camp season, which is going to be the death of yet. We got the kids registered for Little League, AND soccer season is starting, so we'll have games or practice almost every day between now and the Second Coming, or so it feels. Aagh! Lord, don't let anyone else get sick...

A Note on Suffering: Part 2

I almost cried when I read this, because I understand its meaning at a very basic level. I only hope that my understanding doesn't increase, for I am weak and weary.

The Thorn by Martha Snell Nicholson

I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne.
And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart
I cried, "but Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me."
He said, "My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee."
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.

A Note on Suffering: Part 1

I would begin here by saying that I have only tasted evil, never drank deeply from the well of human suffering that exists in the world, and for that I am grateful to God Most High who has spared and protected me from so many things that there can be no doubt but that I am blessed. What follows is simply a few thought I jotted down one morning... I pray it is not too simple as to offend those who have felt a depth of pain I can only hope is never mine. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for my own life and I pray you would comfort and enlighten those who cry out this day to their Maker for the darkness they feel.

“Nothing that exists or occurs falls outside God’s ordaining will [including evil]...

How can God govern the choices of human beings without that entailing that those choices are no longer free? How can the same event have two complete explanations? My answer is this: We cannot understand how these things can possibly be... we can understand why we cannot understand it. It is because our attempts to understand this involve our trying to understand the unique relationship between the Creator and his creatures in terms of our understanding of some creature-to-creature relationship.” [Mark Talbot, Suffering and the Sovereignty of God, John Piper, Justin Taylor, eds. (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2006) 43, 69]

That may be the best brief explanation of the sovereignty v. free will dilemma that I’ve come across. I mean, people bang their head against this wall ALL THE TIME, and it just doesn’t crack. What interests me the most is that I found it in a book dealing with the Problem of Evil. People think theology isn’t important, but they’re wrong. Evil effects us all, and we all ask, “Why?” And the answer is too often unsatisfactory. Plain and simple, we don’t know. SO, how do we go on from there? When evil or suffering touches your life, and you sigh to the heavens, “WHY, O LORD, WHY?!” and are met with little more than the echo of your own mind, what happens next?

For many, the answer is to turn their back on God. In the silence of their own personal night, they brood and become embittered. Their faith withers, as the seed sown among thorns in Matthew 13, whose faith is choked out by the worry of the world. Or perhaps they are like that sown on rocky soil that withers for lack of a root in the Word of God. Either way, the results are the same; they suffer, and in their suffering, they lash out for an answer they will not tolerate. This I understand. As a child I grew up in an alcoholic home, and God was my scapegoat for the anguish I felt every day. Unlike Job, I cursed God, and in rage asked to die, to suffer in Hell for that would be better than eternity with such a spiteful God. It is a real and human reaction. I do not belittle the bitterness of others. But it is wrong.

“...who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, ‘Why did you make me like this,’ will it?”
(Romans 9:20 NASB)

“Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind and said, ‘Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? ‘Now gird up your loins like a man, and I will ask you, and you instruct Me! ‘Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding,’”
(Job 38:1-4 NASB)

I understand that there is not much comfort in those words, so where is the Comforter in the midst of suffering? I don’t know. I don’t know, but I trust God. I trust Him because He is sovereign. I trust Him in His oft resounding silence because I have said to my own kids, time and again, “Because I said so!” For that is really all this boils down to. If God is all-good and all-knowing and all-powerful, then I am willing to trust Him just like I hope my own kids will trust me when I make them suffer. And you will make your kids suffer! When you get them inoculations, they suffer. When you punish them for wrong-doing, they suffer. When you prevent them from doing wrong, they suffer. And often, they cannot understand why. My five year old twins have been warned many times and in loud voices to GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN! Because there are hot pots on the stove or pans coming out of the over; because our kitchen is small and not always safe. Do they understand? Not always. Should I just dip their fingers in boiling water that they might ‘get it?’ Please, get serious. Yet we demand of God, whose understanding is infinitely greater than ours, an equal knowledge, and we pout when it doesn’t come. ‘Children of God,’ indeed!

“I will lift up my eyes to the hills—

From whence comes my help?

My help comes from the LORD,

Who made heaven and earth.”
(Psalm 121:1-2 NKJV)

I trust God because He is sovereign. Because I have seen His hand at work in my life often enough that I know He’s there. I have experienced His grace, His patience, His love, and when the weight of suffering is mine, I turn to Him who suffered most. Christ is the ultimate picture of suffering, and He did it for me. When the weight of suffering is mine, I turn to His word, that has proven perfect and true hundreds of time over in my own life alone. When the weight of suffering is mine, I turn to the brothers and sisters I have in Christ who are themselves an answer promised in His word, and will pray for me and suffer alongside me because I would do the same for them.

Is that enough? For millions of Believers who have suffered far more than me, the answer has been yes.

“Weeping may last through the night,

but joy comes with the morning.”
(Psalm 30:5)

Golden Years

As people age, they start, at some point, talking about "the Golden Years." And whenever I've heard them referred to, its alway in the future tense, as in, "I'm looking forward to retirement so I can enjoy my golden years."

Such sentiments may be fine for others, but not for me. My 'Golden Years' are now. I have my health, my family, a job I love where I feel used by God. I have a brain full of amazing memories that range from bungee jumping in Branson, Mo, to planting a cocanut palm on Rarotonga with my wife, to fishing for salmon with my father in Alaska. I've been married to the greatest and most beautiful woman I've ever had the privilege of meeting for over ten years, and I have the three brightest and most beautiful kids I've ever seen. As I've said a thousand times, other people think they have good kids, but that's only because they haven't met mine. And what have I done to deserve such a blessed run in life? Absolutely nothing. Other than following Christ to the best of my abilities, mine is an ordinary life...

In many ways I imagine myself like Job before the Lord called him to Satan's attention. I can only hope I fly under the radar better than he did. I suppose, since the Enemy is finite, and there are a few more people on earth now than there were then, that I've got a decent chance of avoiding Job's fate.

As I look to the future, I see, in all likelihood, suffering and pain. Family will pass away, sickness, injury or accident will steal my health if aging alone isn't enough. I see trips to the hospitals that I hate so much. (I could never be a pastor for that reason alone.) I see the loss of innocence in the lives of my children. I see the usual aches and pains that accompany every life, and even if they come late to mine, come they will, as they must. Nevertheless, joy is mine.

Joy is mine, not because of the experiences I've had, or the people I've known, or anything I've said or done. No, joy is mine because in my heart of hearts there is Christ, and nothing can ever remove that. Nothing can shake the foundation of my faith because that foundation is the Chief Cornerstone Himself. My joy is eternal, even if these, my golden years, are not.

Do I boast? Certainly not! I have done nothing to merit the favor of God or man. At least not of my own accord. As it is written, there is nothing good in me, nothing worthy of God's affection, that He Himself did not put there by His own providence. I am not worthy on my own, only blessed, and that for reasons only God can fathom. Why He chose me is a mystery that only He can answer, but I rejoice that He did, and THAT is why my joy can never be taken.

Do I hope for suffering? Of course not. Am I tempting fate? May it never be! My sincere hope is that Christ would return long before I feel the pain of anything dark or evil. I seek not the discipline of the Lord as it is promised in Hebrews. In fact I pray against it... at least to the extent that suffering might be mine. Weak? Yes, but true. Anyhow, no matter what happens in the future, these, I declare, are MY golden years. If I live to be a hundred and suffer every day between now and them, my hope is that I would always recall the season I'm in now. If it be the best I ever have, it is enough.

(And though I declare here and now, I beg you Lord, please don't test me on it!)

Fun and Often Stupid College Memories.

So, when I was in college, I named my bed, "The Word," so that I could tell people I spent time in The Word every morning.

It was in college that my goatee first arrived.

Among the classes on my transcript: Downhill Skiing, Wilderness Survival, Basketball (2X), Tennis (2X), Introduction to Acting, Fencing (3X)

One year I lived with a group of about 4 guys in this nice little house about a mile off campus where we were told by the owner that we had to take care of the landscaping. He had a hissy fit when a shrub died in the hedge out front. We should've known he wouldn't react well when he found out that we NEVER ONCE mowed the back yard. There were weeds growing higher than the eaves on the house. Seriously, ten feet or more. There could have been a tribe of dwarves living back there and we'd never have known. It took a serious effort, but we recovered it. We didn't ask to renew the lease.

Same house, same guys. Someone left some spaghetti in a Tupperware container in the back of the fridge... for the year. Although it was never opened, the colors visible through the plastic changed from red to green, and then blue and ultimately pink. At somepoint the contents liquified. We were literally scared to open it. At the end of the year, two of us hosed it at the side of the house. One to hold the container with a painter's mask and rubber gloves, the other to stand ten feet away and hold the hose. I held the hose, Greg Templar held the container. We feared for our long term health after being exposed like that.

One summer I worked a concession stand for the Eugene Emeralds, a short season single-A baseball affiliate of the KC Royal. There I met Mookie Wilson, a member of the '86 Mets, my all-time favorite team. (I am still a hard-core Mets fan.)

I graduated in '95 and don't remember having e-mail, let alone registering on-line.

My college road trips always began in Eugene, but ended in: Phoenix, Seattle, Anchorage, Tijuana, and San Francisco.

I helped perfect "Theme Dates." What's a theme date? C'mon, genius, figure it out. Example 1: Wild Life Date: Began with a trip to a wildlife park, then a showing of Disney's 'Lion King,' and finished with dinner at a restaurant serving wild game. Example 2: Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: Began with a flight to Seattle, continued with a drive to the ferry to Bainsbridge Island, spent the night with friends there, and somewhere we squeezed in a trolly car. Yeah, that one was a little spendy, but you only live once. Example 3: Alaskan Theme Date (Plaid flannel required): Began with duct-taping antlers to the car, wearing plaid flannel shirts, jeans and boots, and going to a barn dance. Dinner was Alaskan salmon and moose steaks. How did we acquire moose? See 'road trips,' above. Theme dates are awesome, and best executed as a group date.

I was present at the invention of Solidaire. Its group solitaire, but the person with the worst game has to perform a previously agreed upon dare. Example: Eating a tablespoon of a spice picked by the blindfolded loser. Having "I love Cheese" inscribed on your forehead in black sharpie. Streaking the circumference of your block while singing, swirlies, playing the next round with you face completely covered in butter--not spread, butter.

Primal Scrap: I came home one day to find two of my eight housemates winging rolls of toilet paper at one another across the living room. Before it ended there were at least five of us involved and anything not nailed to the floor was a projectile, including the recliner and a potted plant. Someone tried to throw the TV, but some things are sacred. I still have a scar from defending myself from a pop can. The scariest moment was probably when I popped up from behind our sofa holding a good sized plastic potsherd only to find myself face to face with a roomie holding the recliner over his head ready to drop it on me. We both saw what was coming, screamed at each other and retreated without firing. From that experience I discovered that a roll of TP, dipped in the toilet, has the ability to knock a man flat without leaving a mark. They were easily the projectile of choice.

"Light the candle!" Those were the last words before a Roman Candle started sparking in the back seat of my '86 Honda Accord. I was traveling with a group of friends in Alaska, and we were in the middle of a bottle rocket was with more friends in the car behind us as we drove home to Anchorage where we were staying for the '92 Cru Alaskan Summer Mission Project. Luckily, no one was injured, and the car survived, but it was definitely stupid.

On the '93 Cru Bolivian Summer Mission Project, I drove the project director out of a poker game in his underwear, and smoked cigars on the roof of our hotel almost every night.