Welcome Back Guys

  

 

Welcome back guys.  

If I'm not careful, I can get an bad attitude when I fly: TSA, bag checks, extra fees, expensive airport food, small seats... and on and on. 

But then I see these guys spread throughout the airport. 

Some of these soldiers have been away from their family for a year or so.  Some of these soldiers have seen things that no person should have to seen other than in Mission Impossible, Modern Warfare or other screened viewing events.  Some of these soldiers have left behind newly born babies, newly wed wives and newly left behind parents.  

As much as I've had the PRIVILEGE to travel: I've never seen a rude soldier (though I have seen rude civlilians).  I've never seen an impatient young man or woman even though they have been traveling for longer hours than the rest of us.  I've never seen pushy, profane or annoying military personel.  Maybe you have, but I haven't.  It makes me think... if they can do the DUTY of travel with grace after going through so much, maybe the rest of us who have the PRIVILEGE to travel can choose to be as gracious as they are.

So welcome back guys.  Thanks for your duty and the grace in which you do it.  You are a great example and reminder for all of us.

Christmas Inactivity

Here we are sitting around simply being.  Yesterday we gave gifts and we shared stories; we laughed, we ate, and we played.  Today - just being together.  

It's Christmas - the WORD BECAME FLESH.  The scripture does not say that on the day Jesus was born that he performed any great activity. (Incidently the day was most likely not Dec 25th... but that's besides the point.)  No, on the day Jesus was born all he did was sleep and do other activities that babies do.  So to celebrate Jesus' birth let's do the same.  Let's rest.  Let's enjoy.  Let's sleep the afternoon away.  

Be careful not to get so caught up in activity that you forget to enjoy the simple pleasure of being together. 

First Impressions

When I saw her... a smile filled her face.  A friend's child was laughing in her arms. Beautiful.

My thought? "She would be an incredible mother."  Letters followed.  A long pause.  Text messages.  Phone talks.  Trips.  Now 4 years later we are married and we are hoping to make that thought come true.

Here's to prayer, love, hoping and beautiful kids.

The First Day of the Week

And so the week begins. The right way. Coffee in front of me. Bible reading and prayer behind me and in me.

Here was my short, yet sincere prayer this morning:

Jesus. Too often I pursue relationship with you because I am a leader and a pastor and it is what I'm "supposed to do." But I don't want to read, pray, follow you because of that. I want to lead out of my commitment to follow you! But it starts right here. You. Me. Scripture. Prayer. Commitment. Love. And maybe some coffee.

As this week begins... So may everyday.

When You Paint at Night

This body is an amazing machine. Each body is. Last night my wife and I started painting and cleaning and organizing. Six hours later we laid down. Six hours of stretching to reach the corners. Six hours of laboring. Six hours of talking, laughing, sighing, sweating, spraying, rolling and hoping to be done.

At 2 AM we were exhausted. Our bodies felt drained. Our feet hurt. Our backs ached. Yet we felt incredible. The walls were done. Closets sparkled. Relief. Pleasure. Smiles.

How is it that tiredness and soreness get coupled with elation and excitement?

Life is an paradox. It is full of tension.

Working hard can fill you with endorphins of happiness.
Slothing aroun can cause depression to weigh you down.

Jesus is full of paradox. Fully God and fully man. Lose life to gain life. Serve to be great. Die to yourself to really live. Narrow is the way to truth. Came to die, so we can live.

It seems like the greatest pleasures, discoveries and truth in life are found in paradox. Which makes me think. What am I doing that is so easy, so me centered, so comfortable that though it might be nice in the moment, it becomes wasteful in the end? On the contrary. What can I engage in that is so hard, labor intensive and costly that at end of the work is filled with meaning and purpose?

Yesterday we labored and enjoyed the outcome. Today we rested and are ready for more.

What if we took this approach every day in every situation?

I Like Music that Moves Me

Last night Taylor and I sat at our computer skipping through music. We landed on Paul Potts. Since Taylor hadn't heard of Mr. Potts, I clicked on YouTube and in moments we were part of his virtual audience when he auditioned for Britains Got Talent.

Paul, the mobile salesman who studied opera, shows up for an audition in front of Simon Cowell and other judges. Simon asks him what he desires to do. "Sing Opera." Simon's ever sinister eyebrows arch up. Doubt floods the entire room. The audience slightly scoffs. Simon signals Paul to get on with it. Music cues. The orchestra track begins. And Paul starts singing.

Just recalling it sets my skin to reacting. Little bumps across my arms.

As Paul Potts sings, the audience spontaneously dives into the flood of emotions coming from the stage. Doubt is caught up, overpowered and overcome. The audience stands, judges look ridiculous with surprise, the crowd cries and hands hitting against hands creates a thunderous roar.

Just writing this makes me feel like I was there.

When he sang, the music moved me. I didn't know the words. I wasn't familiar with the meaning. I hadn't pumped myself up. It just hit me.

Why? How is this possible? Has this happened to you?

Now, I will die within the next 60 years. My body will be buried. My insurance will be distributed. My possessions will be sold for a few bucks at an estate sale. Over time memories of me will dissipate. To some this seems sad.

To me... I will be moving. I will be so caught up in angelic voices and eternal choirs filled with saints who sing like Paul Potts. Their songs will fill the air, resonate throughout God's realm and flood my soul with awe, reverence and love. Because, on the other side of this life I have accepted God's invitation. While my body grows cold, I will just be warming up to the excitement, the music and the party on the other side. As the party picks up speed and I greet the people gone on before me, the host will come out. Instantly all movement will be stilled. Jesus will be standing there looking at me. This is the homecoming party He has thrown for this petty little person. This time He will be moving, coming towards me like an all consuming flood. My emotions, my doubts, my fear, my awe buried by His embrace.

The party will continue. I don't know what it will all entail. But at some point we will sing a song to the savior from our sins, the one who made reunion with our creator possible. That song will be the most moving of all. We will cry, we will stand to our feet, we will applaud until our hands hurt, we will be surprised, we will have all of this and more... someday.

Until then... I will choose music that moves me and enjoy a little prelude to my destiny,

People are Bizzare

God must love diversity. I don't mean the false kind of diversity that certain segments of society apply to their own homogenized group of people whom they seek to promote to the larger spectrum of culture...

No not that. If anyone can actually follow that.

Start over. God must love diversity. Because people are weird. Me too. All of us are. As I sit in my coffee shop I look around and everyone here is at least as weird or weirder than I am. Think about it. We have silent people who stare, social people who stand too close, friends who laugh at everything, those who have no emotions, people who talk to much, people who are too intense, critical people who criticize even themselves, and on and on.

Then there is the People of Wallmart video: (view at your own discretion)

You can't watch this and not realize that people are weird. And you and I are just as weird. Perhaps our style is a bit more hip, but what about in front of the mirror? What odd things are you thinking right now? What bizarre behaviors do we fall into when we don't care who is looking?

We are eerie, odd, bizarre and just plain weird people.

In the midst of this acknowledgment, God STILL loves us. Sigh. Whew. Relief.

And now to end by quoting the two most popular verses in the bible:

Matthew 7:1-2
Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

John 3:16-17
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.

What Does God Do With His Spare Time

I find that most of my conversation with God is me praying for me, me praying for my friends, me praying for my ministry...

That is a lot of me. Too much.

Oh don't get me wrong. I do recognize God, glorify God and praise God. I find songs repeating in my mind all day long. This ends up as me singing one part of the song over and over... (I'm one of those people who can hear a song 1 million and three times only to remember the line, "U can't touch this.") I digress. Or I did. Let me move on.

On weekends, I join with a congregation and shout out songs of worship to God. I sing at home. I recognize him through creation. But from the beginning to the end of my daily hours I still log many, many more MEs than anything else.

So last night I talked to God about this. I was thinking of bits of scripture, conversations with others, past reflections, etc. etc. I had what seemed like an epiphany to me...

What if I related with any other relationship like I relate with God?

Hey John! Want to give me some more stuff? Want to help me? Will you talk to my superiors to give me more money? Will you go talk to my family for me? And do something about this stomachache while you are at it?

Or what if instead of conversing with my wife I only sang repetitive lines of love...

"Oh Taylor how you look so beautiful... Ooh ooh. I want be closer to you, come closer to me... Oh you are so wonderful, so WONDERful, so WonDerFuL... You are so wonderFUL oh you are and I want to know you Taylor. Open my eyes to see you, blessed be your name Taylor..."

While that would be a beautiful song, if that is all I ever did to communicate with my wife and get to know her then we would have a lot to talk about in future marriage counseling.

So there I was thinking about this last night. I started to ask questions that we ask of those we want to know. God what do you like to do? What is your favorite thing to watch? What are you up to right now that is fun? Do you ever wish you could just get away from work?

BAM. He showed up looking like Morgan Freeman answering all my questions.

Nope. It was quiet. I implored him to answer. I tried to manipulate him into verbally responding. I tried and I failed.

Quiet.

My mind starting turning. My friend Claudia loves to paint flowers over and over and over and over again. She doesn't get tired. My friend Brandon plays with his girls and just loves entertaining them. My friend David goes on hikes all the time, exploring places outside of my physical condition and stamina.

I bet God just loves to paint and create. He takes joy in recreating flowers since the beginning of time. I bet He personally composes sunsets all around the world. He doesn't just let it go automatic. He dreams it, gathers the colors, shifts the elements and then waits for His friends to take notice.

I guarantee, all money back, that God loves to play with His kids. Take for example my silly story of asking questions. It is just like my little nieces asking me if I am ticklish every minute so they can make me laugh. I'm not ticklish. But I go along with it and have fun with the little kids. I think God is the perfect Father who just loves to play and interact and watch his kids.

I think God is an adventure guide. Every year thousands of people climb ridiculous ridges. Every day millions of people do daring stunts. Why? God guides us to go on adventures. Good guides loves seeing the ecstasy of their group. And God loves seeing ours.

I realize all this anecdotal and conjecture. So, I'm going to read my Bible to see what God reveals of Himself, but I'm not leaving my imagination behind. I'm bringing all silly questions with me and maybe, just maybe it will become less about me and more about HIM.

I Wish I Had Less Regrets

I regret too much. Mostly in two categories. People and Money.

When I was 18 years old I was working at a restaurant. Daily, money was put in my pocket. Weekly, the money disappeared. Where did it go? I wish I knew. I wish I had saved.

When I bought a house, I did a reverse investment. I bought high, right before the market went low. Now my money is upside down, which is a kind way of saying that I owe a load of money.

Cars. Pets. Timing. Clothes. Books. Hobbies. Too many financial regrets.

How about people? The regrets could fill this page with account after account of words said or not said, friendships gone dry, dates I wish I didn't go on, people I should have talked to about Jesus, times I was mean or critical... I'm not going to write anymore. We all get the picture. And it gets more and more of a downer as we think of it.

People and money. The two big categories. Then there are all these little regrets that seem so small all alone. Kind of like a little red ant. Then at night they come out together; they pile up in my head. Together they form this ever twisting, moving, writhing hill full of vicious remorse.

Ah... Regrets. I wish I had less of them.

Last Saturday, Taylor and I went to church with my family. We sang, "How He Loves Us", by John Mark McMillan. It is a beautiful song with one very weird line followed by one very relieving line. The relieving line: "I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way that He loves us... OH HOW HE LOVES US... HE LOVES US... OH HOW HE LOVES US."

There we stand, a church full of people shouting this powerful truth that GOD loves us.

When my soul processed the word "regrets", a water balloon full of them exploded in my mind. The regrets soaked my soul. I could feel each one and all of them together. Then... Then... Then...

OH HOW HE LOVES US... HE LOVES US... OH HOW HE LOVES US

It was this warm, embracing love that dried my sorrowful tears, dried my soul and covered me in freshly laundered love. I get escalofrias just thinking about it.

So here is to living in love. Here is to God's greatness and Christ's great sacrifice. I literally raise my coffee cup as people look on. All because of Him, because heaven met earth and now forgiven, we can let go and live on.

Seeing Reason to Laugh

I love laughing with my wife. This morning we stood in front of the washer and dryer hugging each other. The tender moment with the romantic surrounding soon gave way to spontaneous outbursts of laughter. Laughter over nothing, over everything... just plain laughter.

I think God laughed when he made laughter.

L A U G H T E R
It's such a weird word. I roll it around my mind and a smile comes to my lips. Laughter.

What is it that doctors say? Laughter is the best medicine. It literally brings health into the body. It changes our natural chemistry. It reinforces the function of vitamin D. The doctors say that kind of stuff. I don't know. I'm not a doctor and I'm not about to research it, that would turn my reflection into work. There is a time for that, but right now I'm thinking about my dog...

This morning my 6 month old small puppy dog jumped onto my ottoman. He tackled the blanket resting precariously on top. He tore into the blanket with his paws, attempting to make it a better bed. As he worked, the blanket edged to the edge of the foot rester. Slowly the blanket cascade off of the ottoman. Then the trickle reached a full fledge flow of motion. Little Indiana found himself running on top of a blanket that was running out of room. Picture a treadmill that runs out of tread. That is what happened. In the end, the puppy fell off and then onto the fluffy pile of blanket.

I laughed.

I think God laughed.

Oh, and I laughed AT the puppy. Not with him. He just got up and went to eat (he's a chubby little b). The humor escaped him. But it didn't miss me.

I think God laughs at us at times. Not when it is a serious matter. Neither does he cause misfortune to come our way. But think of all those times when we act so foolish and get ourselves in deep matter. I think He laughs as I laughed for my little buddy. Maybe we need to laugh too.

Maybe I take myself far to seriously.

Maybe laughter is the best medicine.

Frequently Frustrated

Today I locked myself out of the guest bedroom at my sisters home. Two puppies inside. Luckily I realized my error immediately. I pulled out the wallet ready to perform magic with the master card. An hour later the door was bruised, my cards were worthless and my intentions were thwarted.

Frustration: Having your plans or desires hindered, defeated or nullified.

I had awoken with gran ambitions of experiencing a joyful day. I planned to play with nieces and puppies then to walk to Starbucks to study, read, pray and write about something momentous.

Instead I kneeled by the massive door with bent forks, miscellaneous knives, twisted cards, ineffective tools, and attempted suggestions scatterred all around me. Perhaps someone more positive would simply laugh it off and enjoy the moment. Maybe someone more spiritual could pray it open. More money could have simply and stress-freely paid it off. Of course, someone more equipped could have quickly opened it. And they did: one man, right tools, good experience, short drive, five minutes of work and $109... The problem was solved.

I get frustrated too quickly. Annoyed by work. Short with my wife. Avoiding certain people. Being cold to the difficult people. Being hard on myself.

It's not good.

Good thing Jesus said, "and when you are frustrated, here are three simple things to do to feel relieved..."

Nope. Jesus never said that. The feeling of frustration is never tackled head on like that. So what is the root of frustration? Desiring control and not being able to maintain control.

Ouch.

Now control is something the Bible does talk about. From beginning to end we learn that God is in control and we are not. God is sovereign. We are subjects. Subjects to shifts in plans. Subjects to the decisions of others. Subjects to a universe who doesn't conform to us. Subjects, not sovereigns.

I'm sure I'll probably be frustrated again soon. But here is a reminder to me: Stop. Breathe. Sigh out the angst. Pray a little prayer. Know that while I'm subject to thwarting, God is still God. And God is good. The feelings will pass (and quicker if I remember my reminder). Then... move on... leave it behind... smile... and allow a new plan to arise in the new surroundings.

It's 4:40. It's time to move on to a new moment right now //

Don't Talk to Me

I came here to read and to write and to drink coffee. I didn't come to talk. Someone once said, "coffee houses are communities made of people who are isolated.". Or something like that. Perhaps it was more like, "people go out to coffee to be alone while surrounded by people."

Yes.

I do that. If I want to talk to someone I'll either meet up with someone or I will have a smile on my face and my head up (sounds kind of creepy, but there is that body language that says, "I'm open to conversation."). If I have my head down, or my face is serious, or if I'm involved in a book... Then I'm probably not open to talking.

Here's my dual predicament: I'm a people pleaser and I'm a Christian (and I'm somewhat known in my city).

As a people pleaser I don't like being rude, unliked or simply straightforward with people (in case the truth offends). On top of carrying around 'the disease to please' the attitude of my heart typically shows through. So...

... Someone comes up to me or strikes a conversation. Instead of kindly but firmly saying, "excuse me, I came here to study..." I find myself engaging in a conversation but trying to cut it short sort-of-politely. Unless someone is oblivious to attitudes they will inevitably read the big "GO AWAY" on my forehead. Depending on my mood the sign might be read a bit more offensive.

As a Christian I want to represent Jesus to people. A man comes up to me. Nice guy. Makes a comment on my iPad. Asks questions. I'm busy. I do my short answer. Put my head down. He fires away with some more questions. I turn towards him a bit. Answer the questions nicely. Return to my reading. Questions continue to be thrown over my shoulder. There are times I would open up to him, invite him to sit, fully answer his queries and then get lost in conversation. Not this time. But I'm at people pleaser. I keep doing the dance with the Q&A. The sign on my forehead is growing larger and larger. Eventually. After many questions increasingly answered ever briefer, he leaves.

Guilt hits. I'm a Christian. What did I just show this man? Besides that I am human with a very frequent human reactions: selfishness, frustration, irritation, passive-aggressive tendencies, closed offness. Certainly I didn't show him love or truth or community.

The situation repeats itself on airplanes, buses, Starbucks, book stores, school, even the office.

Since I am destined to face this trial again and again (even as i write this), I should start learning how to: "Tell the truth in love." "Say what I mean, mean what I say." "Be ready at all times to share the hope that is inside me."

The man is back at the coffeehouse again. He's sitting right to my left. I'm done reading, thinking and writing. Do I head to my home or strike up a conversation?

I Wish I Were an Artist

The Coffee is hot to my palm. My wife is beautiful across from me. The caffeinated aroma of the locale is a comfort to my mind. The Bible reading intrigues me, guides me, speaks to me and awakens my heart to God.

Painted art fills the wall.

Sometimes I wish I were an artist. My thoughts and meditations do not fit on linear lines or in paragraphs on pages. They are all over the place - dogs at home, why Taylor drinks from a ceramic mug while I prefer paper, I don't want to paint the house but I do, can a person be re-born-again after all the Spirit moves where He pleases...

Most of my thoughts are passing observations, mundane musings and flippant questions that I don't really wonder at. But others... Make me want to paint.

I wish I could paint my love for Taylor. She would be laughing and smiling in a background of yellow and blue while wearing a sundress.

I wish I could paint my ever morphing relationship with Jesus. The whole spectrum of colors would be present. The colors to portray God would reflect faithfulness, grace and truth. Then there would be at least 12 representations for my life. On part of the painting there would be a struggle, on another a mountaintop of joy, still another would find me saying the word "HELP", one of me would be holding a sword, on the opposite side I would be holding magazine ads up in front of my view of God... 12 representations of my interactions with God is not enough.

I wish I could paint joy mingled with sorrow. Deep red in the midst of intense yellow. Just some way to portray to tension of building a house for a family in need while still seeing so much need around them.

I wish I could paint. There is so much inside each one of us that our world will never know.

Maybe God feels this way about us. Maybe it's not that God is so silent as so many believe he is; maybe He has painted world as it is to tell us what is inside him. Maybe weather is a indicator of the intensity of emotions that our creator feels. Maybe.

After all, God is an artist.

Vacation and God

Sitting here on vacation at Scandia Coffeehouse reading the book of John. I realize that my mind quickly starts thinking of how to preach this text. I start reading to preach instead of reading to be with Jesus. Part of the reason why I have asked for an extended vacation is to get my relationship with Jesus back in the first focus: friend, savior, leader and God. As a Pastor I sometimes feel like I'm in a work relationship with Jesus. He is my boss, He is my pastor, he is my teacher and so... Now that I'm home, away from the church building, etc... I can find myself feeling like I need a bit of distance.

Have you ever worked with someone so much or seen someone so much or collaborated with someone so much that you wanted distance from that person? Time passes... That relationship dwindles to working relationship and can become a former friendship.

I don't want to distance myself from Jesus because I work for Him, with Him and through Him.

Two men worked with each other for years and in the evenings their families would get together. They worked together famously, even though one of them was the boss. They related together as best friends; they had complete trust with each other.

I want to find myself ever closer to Jesus when I work with Him, when I'm traveling, when I'm at home and when I'm on vacation.

Here's to walking with God every day, all the time, for the forever of our eternal lives.