Woody's Blog

Not So Trivial

2012-01-08T17:06:00.000-07:00

Many of you"up North" probably missed the fact that January 4th was"National Trivia Day" in the United States. I can assure you, with mytendency to amass piles of absolutely useless information (The only numberwhose letters are in alphabetical order is 40: f-o-r-t-y), I did not. In fact,I celebrated by reading at least two articles whose only purpose was to allowme to interject trivia into future conversations.

Su canhardly wait.

Actually,we could be excused for missing National Trivia Day here in Costa Rica becausewe still find ourselves in a rather extended celebration of Christmas. Now thiswill not be surprising for those of you who possess the bit of trivia that inseveral Latin America countries January 6th is "El Dia de los Reyes"or, Three Kings Day. The date marks the culmination of the twelve days ofChristmas and commemorates the three wise men who traveled from afar, bearinggifts for the infant Jesus. In particular, the children of Mexico look forwardto this holiday because it means they will get at least one more gift.

It's hardto not like a holiday that provides you more gifts.

Our owncelebration as been extended because the Christmas cards that many of you sentto us continue to arrive at our local post office. I really believe there maybe a rule in Costa Rica stating we are not allowed to receive our Christmascards until the New Year. Seriously. Some of you sent cards to us at the end ofNovember which we finally read this week!

Theextension of the Christmas season does serve one purpose. During the daysleading up to Christmas we all tend to be a bit sentimental regarding theholiday... perhaps, it really is possible to see It's A Wonderful Life one toomany times! Extending the season allows us to meditate on some of the otheraspects of our Lord's birth - some of the things that we do not normally thinkabout.

This week Ihave been thinking about the people and interest groups which probably did notbelieve the Messiah's birth was good news. In fact, His birth probably provokedthe kind of threatening change that understandably led to resistance.

Herodcreated an empire that focused on a massive building program meant toimmortalize him. He was cruel and unjust. Certainly, it wasn't good news forHerod to hear about the birth of a new king.

The birthof Jesus was not good news for the Romans. The accusation that Christianityaccelerated the end of the Roman empire probably holds some water. Introducinga radical, new cosmology into daily life certainly did not promote unity.

Obviously,the Good News was bad news for the religious folk like the scribes and thePharisees. Their whole life-style pre-supposed being able to control peoplethrough religious tradition and rules. People who like rules do not take torule-breakers.

Trust me. Iknow.

In Matthew10:35 Jesus stated that He did not come into His creation to bring peace. Hedid not become incarnate to create warm, fuzzy feelings or, even, holiday films.Instead, He came to divide and sever. Infact, this loss of peace and increase in loneliness is probably the naturalcost of discipleship. (10:37.38)

It was noneother than Shakespeare who, in part, popularized the use of "trivia"to describe something as trite, commonplace or unimportant. Before his time itwas primarily used to describe a liberal arts education. Of course, some peopleare of the opinion that the latter and former are one in the same.

There was nothing commonplace or unimportant aboutour Lord's birth. It did divide creation's history in two. It did separatefamilies, one from another. It still demands that we would be willing torespond to it and Him by picking up our cross and following Him.

My Lists for 2011

2012-01-02T14:35:00.001-07:00

It is thelast day of 2011 and, once again, even a brief glance at the television,internet news sites, YouTube and, even, Christianity Today will provide youwith some type of top ten list for the year. So far I have been protected fromseeing a "Top Ten List of Top Ten Lists." If you actually know ofone, please refrain from sending it to me - I am hoping to begin 2012 in apositive frame of mind.

YouTube hascome to define the era of online video. Now, everyone can literally be seen onthe small screen. We have come a long way since watching Milton Berle, I LoveLucy and the Lawrence Welk Show together as families. YouTube's top ten videosthis year include the normal music clips of kids playing covers of popularsongs and videos of cute cats doing, well, cute things. It only has oneadvertisement - Volkswagen's "The Force." I am still amazed thatadvertisements have titles like books or plays or movies. From my perspective,the video entitled "Nyan Cat" (#5 on the top ten list) is probableproof of a plot against western culture as we have known it until now.

ChristianityToday's top ten list of news stories for 2011 includes some that I was aware ofand a few that I (fortunately) missed. Their number one item was thepublication of Rob Bell's book which seemed to legitimize universalism. Thenumber 4 story was the death of John Stott, pastor, author and a mentor toleaders in the global church. Because of his positive impact and leadershipwithin Christianity, many people forget that he also wrote about a type ofuniversalism - annihilationism, or the belief that hell is incineration intonon-existence. Still, one of the books that I would like to read in 2012 isPortraits of a Radical Disciple: Recollections of John Stott's Life andMinistry.

Thinking ofbooks, the #6 story on Christianity Today's list was HarperCollins, whichalready owns Zondervan, buying out the Christian publisher, Thomas Nelson. Thismeans that they will now own 50% of the Christian book market. One can't missthe irony that the same company which published Bart Simpson's Guide to Life(1993) now provides most of our literature in Christian bookstores. Oh, how themighty have fallen!

All ofthese lists have done one positive thing for me today - they have encouraged meto look back over 2011 and remember some of the things that God was doing inour lives and ministry. I will not put them into a top ten list. However, I willleave you with a few things which quickly come to mind:

Even thoughSu's illness and surgeries have been very, very challenging (I would addanother "very," but Su will not let it past her editor's pen), Godhas shown Himself to be faithful. He opened the door to see the right doctorsat the right time. He has allowed Su to begin the long recovery process. He hasprovided for our significant health costs.

Even thoughwe had a few set-backs due to the political chaos of the "ArabSpring," we have seen Latin missionaries advance in some very difficultcountries - including in some that continue to find themselves in theheadlines. God is using our Latin workers to make a difference in the world.

We haveseen growth on several teams in Latin America and growth in the impact theseteams are having in their communities and countries. Our missionaries areactually being used to raise up the next generation of leaders in LatinAmerica. What a privilege!

I couldcontinue with the list, but it seems to me they all have one thing in common -God has, once again, shown Himself to be faithful. He has not let us down. Hehas not abandoned us.

So, in a world where Nyan Cat has been viewedalmost 57 million times and News Corporation (owners of HarperCollins) now controlChristian publishing, I can still sleep at night. God is on His throne. He hasled us through another year of ministry and life - he will lead in 2012, aswell.

Praying for Little Girls in Unstable Times

2011-10-17T15:38:00.000-06:00

All threeof my daughters have Bolivian citizenship. Sometimes people will look at Norma,Krista and Kari and then point to Norma and say something like, "So, thisis your Bolivian daughter!" I can assure you, this is one way to reallyfry Krista and Kari's grits... they have never appreciated hearing statementslike that.

When Kristawas born, Bolivia was under a "state of siege." This meant themilitary was in control of the country; due process of law was denied; and,there was a curfew after 8:00pm. If you were caught out after curfew you weretaken to the military jail in Miraflores. It was an unstable country at anunstable time.

We chosethe doctor and hospital where Su gave birth to Krista based on the fact that Icould be present in the delivery room. Back in those days, this was a new ideain Bolivia. In fact, during one of Su's prenatal visits, Dr. Teran asked if hecould invite a few professional colleagues to join us in the delivery room, sothey could observe how a husband handled the experience. Su, ever the nurse,thought that sounded like it would be okay.

Still, onJuly 12, 1979, when Su was rolled into the delivery room, we found we wereaccompanied by an audience of five doctors and six or seven nurses. Admittedly,we hadn't really processed what it would feel like for my introverted wife to give birth in front of this many people. However, my brave and veryfocused wife threw caution (and modesty) to the wind and did everything she wasasked to do to get on with the task at hand.

I mustadmit to making a few mistakes in my role as Su's "helper" - sorry, Istill find it rather humorous that men feel like they are really doing anythinguseful while their wife is giving birth. First, I had promised I would read thebook on natural childbirth. I really meant to... seriously. Somehow those ninemonths just got away from me. Second, in response to Su asking me about whatKrista looked like when she was born, I made an unfortunate "manerror" and actually told her the truth. Believe me, I think (hope,believe) that I have learned my lesson in this particular area.

It is now abit more than 32 years later. Yesterday morning at 4:05am Krista gave birth toher own daughter, Hannah Grace Ophus. She was accompanied by her husband Chrisand just the right amount of hospital staff. My guess is Chris knew all theright things to do and all the right things to say - he is an excellentson-in-law.

From thetime they came into our family, Su has prayed Numbers 6:24-26 over ourdaughters. I pray the same thing for Hannah and my other grandchildren thismorning. The world is still an unstable place where bad things happen to goodpeople.

"The Lord bless you - Hannah, Jonathan,Adrian and Natasha, and keep you; The Lord make His face shine on you, And begracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance on you, And give youpeace."

Strange Week

2011-09-18T23:15:00.001-06:00

Now, some of you who are sympathetic to the fact that Su has lived with me week-in-and-week-out for over 36 years, are going to think that EVERY week is a bit strange for Su. Even I would have to admit that you are probably right. However, this one has been especially "different."

We began the week in beautiful, tropical San Isidro, Costa Rica, and have ended it in early fall in the Kansas City metro area. It is what has happened in between that has made it "special."

On Monday we had two pre-operative visits with the wonderful team at Research Medical Center in KC. As part of the pre-op procedures they went through the medicines that Su is currently taking. I would guess that they had to look up half of them on the internet because the names and dosages between countries are so different ... and at least two remained a mystery to them. The two nurses dealing with this problem kept saying, "These are very strange. We have never heard of these medicines."

The next day we returned to check Su into the hospital for her surgery. The first question that two doctors asked us was, "What is this medicine?" One also wanted to know where we got it. I was tempted to say Colombia, but Su always likes me to be on my best behavior in medical establishments.

I try. I really try.

Su's surgery was scheduled later in the day (The surgeon and his team had graciously added Su’s procedure onto their busy schedule). At 4:30pm, as Kari and I waited while Su was in the OR, the individuals attending the phones in the outpatient admissions and large waiting room stood up and said, "We’re leaving now. You are now in charge of answering the phones."

I am NOT making this up! Since there were several other people in the room, I looked at the most professional-looking man among us and said, "She must have meant you." I will NOT write down his verbatim response . . . it probably wouldn't be appropriate for a missionary update.

So, strange as it may sound, I spent the rest of our time answering the hospital waiting room phone system. I must have sounded like I knew something, because I was asked at least one medical question. I was tempted to suggest the medicine the doctors could never identify as a possible solution, but remembered Su's strict warnings just in time and, instead, convinced a passing nurse to take the call.

Maybe the strangest thing of all is simply sitting in a hospital room day after day with someone you love very much and realizing there is very little you can do except to call one of the excellent nurses when there is a problem.

Wedding vows used to include archaic language like "cherish and protect." Once you have turned your loved one over for surgery, it seems like there is little protecting you can still do, and the cherishing doesn't seem to help lower the pain levels . . . well, at least much.

While escaping for lunch one day, I found myself in another strange situation. Holding the door open for two elderly women, one very deliberately looked me up and down and said, "Thank you, sir. I just love your boots." Attempting some humor in what had been a hard (and strange) day, I responded by saying, "Well, ma’m, I thought you were going to complement my bald head." She quickly reached up and rubbed my chin and said, "No, but I do love your whiskers."

What hasn't been strange this week is the love, care and affection that we have felt from many of you. I genuinely want to thank you for your cards, emails, notes and flowers. They have meant a great deal to all of us. I especially want to thank Mark and Carol Kieft who have allowed us to invade their home and upset their normal schedule. With Su, Kari and me staying on, I can almost promise this next week is going to be another strange one for them.

Prayer requests - just two this week, but I would appreciate it if you would keep the second one in mind each day.

First, pray for Krista's safe return to Chicago. She is eight months pregnant and traveling with special permission from her mid-wife. I would think it very strange to have my next granddaughter's birth certificate read "Born: somewhere over Iowa on American Airlines."

Second, continue to pray for Su's recovery. She is obviously experiencing some normal, but significant pain. Pray that the surgery can actually provide a solution for some of the difficulties she has experienced during the past years.

We Lost Jesus and Don't Know Where We Put Him!

2011-08-28T17:05:00.003-06:00

This has not been one of those periods in life which has allowed much time for reflective reading. Still, there are moments in the middle of the night when I am up with Su that allow me to grab the occasional glance at a few things that I have wanted/intended/hoped to read.

In one of those moments this week I read an article by Audrey Barrick that reported on a study released last Monday by The Barna Group. The article was entitled "Christianity No Longer Looks Like Jesus." According to Ms. Barrick (a professing Christian) only 3 percent of non-Christians between the ages of 16 to 29 years of age express favorable views of Evangelicals. To give you some context, in the previous generation, 25 percent of young people had positive associations toward Christians.

Common negative perceptions among non-Christians is that present-day Christianity is judgmental (87 percent), hypocritical (85 percent), old-fashioned (78 percent), and too involved in politics (75 percent). Ouch! Now I know why people look like they have smelled something a bit "off" when I mention that I am a missionary.

Probably one of the more amazing statistics to me is that 23 percent of young non-Christians said, "Christianity in today's society no longer looks like Jesus." Even more impressive was the fact that young people who self-identified as "born-again Christians" were just as likely to say the same thing (22 percent)!

Christianity has lost Jesus and we can't remember where we put Him.

The study made me wonder, "How can we present Jesus in this world in such a way that He is both relevant (sorry, I almost hate to use that word) and authentic?" John Stott wrote, "[To present Jesus today] a double discipline is needed, negative and positive."

The negative is that we must repent of Christian procrusteanism... it is a real word, I looked it up on the internet! It is derived from a Greek myth about Procrustes, a wicked robber who would invite people to his home to visit. Once there, he would force them to rest on his iron bed. To actually sleep on it there was one condition. They had to fit the bed perfectly! If they were too long, he cut off their legs! If they were too short, he stretched them!

Christian procrusteanism forces Jesus into our mold: political Jesus, pro-family Jesus, heal-the-sick Jesus, etc. No matter what He actually said, no matter what values and priorities He lived and taught, we try to force Jesus into our latest cause.

There is one problem with this (to borrow heavily from C. S. Lewis), Jesus is not a domesticated God. He does not fit our mold or ideas. Instead, He will do everything He can to mold us into His image. Let me assure you, recently some of that molding in my own life has not felt too good!

The positive discipline that the late, John Stott referred to was the absolute necessity of returning to the Jesus of the Biblical text. For Jesus to be authentic we have to return to the Apostolic testimony. Again and again, we must force ourselves to look at what Jesus actually revealed about Himself rather than engaging in our contemporary fantasies.

Dr. Peter Kuzmič is a professor of World Missions and European Studies at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. He wrote: "We must renew the credibility of the Christian mission. [This is not primarily] a question of methodology, money, management and numbers... I frequently tell our seminary students that our task may be simply to 'wash the face of Jesus,' for it has been dirtied and distorted by both the compromises of institutional Christianity through the centuries and the antagonistic propaganda... in recent decades."

Hm, I may not be able to do everything that I would like or feel I should do during these challenging days. However, even as I am caring for Su's physical needs, I hope I can wash off the face of Jesus to such a point that He can be recognized once again. I would hate for Him to remain lost to this generation.

Why Weeks

2011-08-11T16:20:00.005-06:00

We all get a couple of “why weeks” in our lives - usually more than a couple. You know what I mean, these are the days when we find ourselves saying things like: “Why this?”; “Why us?”; “Why now?” These are the troubled times.

Su has been wandering through a “why week” that has now gone on for several weeks. Last night I sat, stood and lay by her hospital bed as she cried from her pain until she was finally given morphine at 2:30am. Pain has a special ability to produce why weeks, all by itself.

Of course, God has a purpose in allowing His children to go through why weeks. He is never caught flat-footed, snapping His omnipotent fingers and saying, “Shoot! That situation with Su just got past me. Now, what am I going to do?” He is not responsible for the realities we experience living in this fallen world, but He will take advantage of each challenging situation to do His perfect will in our lives.

Some random thoughts on why weeks that have gone through my sleep-deprived brain while sitting in the hospital:

Why weeks test the strength of our faith. In 2 Chronicles 32:31 we find an interesting detail about King Hezekiah, “…God left him to himself, in order to test him and to know all that was in his heart.” Obviously, God already knew what was in Hezekiah’s heart - He knows everything! In this case, God used Hezekiah’s why week to help the king understand what was in his own heart.

I have always wanted to be a man of great faith, pleasing to God. Sometimes I fool myself into thinking that I have actually made progress toward that goal. The why weeks in my life (or in Su’s life) reveal a heart that it is still painfully inadequate in the faith category.

Why weeks humble us – more than someone who once made his home in Texas naturally wants to be humbled! Paul wrote about his own why week, “…a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited.” (2 Corinthians 12:7b) Paul had received profound revelations directly from Jesus. He had seen God’s spirit working in incredible ways. Still, or maybe because of all that, God used Paul’s why weeks to help him grow in humility.

I have grown weary of Christian leaders so-filled with themselves that it becomes hard to find Jesus in their words or actions. I am especially weary of when that Christian leader is sometimes me! God must humble us to use us. Why weeks are one of the tools he uses to bring us to a place where we become useful in His hands.

Eventually, why weeks are redeemed because they teach us lessons we can share with others. Earlier in 2 Corinthians, Paul wrote to his disciples, “Blessed be the.. God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. (2 Corinthians 1:3,4) It sounds like a biblical tongue-twister, but it reveals the promise that lessons learned in the midst of our why weeks will not be wasted.

I doubt any lesson I could learn would be worth the price of the pain and nausea that Su has paid this week. However, that is probably my lack of faith speaking. Truth be told – and we always want to speak the truth – the testimony of God’s work in our lives will one day serve someone else passing through their own why week.

While Su has been in the hospital, Ticos celebrated their annual pilgrimage to the Virgin of Los Angeles in Cartago. On August 1 and 2 the city is full of pilgrims who have walked to the Virgin to pay homage or ask special favors. Many of them end their trip by crawling on their knees across the plaza in front of the basilica and down the center aisle of the church. When asked why they do it, many respond by explaining that it is a Costa Rican tradition and they enjoy the fellowship of other people’s company on the road.

My guess is that some of you reading these mad-meanderings (inspired by one-too-many days at my wife's bedside) may be going through your own why weeks. From one pilgrim on the road to another, I want to encourage you to listen for the lessons that God will teach you. They may be just what I need to hear as we keep on walking together.

Not the Trevi Fountain!

2011-07-25T06:53:00.003-06:00

We have a calendar up on our kitchen wall that our friends gave us commemorating a trip to Rome that we made together last year. Each month includes photos taken on the trip. It also has the birthdays of each of us and the anniversaries of all three couples. This comes in very handy for guys like me who live with a certain amount of pride because we actually manage to remember our wife's birthday... most years.

For the month of July there are two photos. The one on the left shows the three ladies with wonderful smiles in front of a landmark we had mistakenly identified as the Trevi Fountain . They look like they are enjoying the time of their lives with good friends - even though they have no idea of what is really behind them.

The photo on the right shows the three men.

I like the picture of the three guys because we all seem to accurately communicate what we bring to the relationship we have enjoyed together since the Sixties. I am on the left of the photo, grimacing and flexing my imaginary muscles. I may have been trying to be funny, or, it could have been the pain I was experiencing that particular afternoon. At any rate, I look like I could cause some trouble. On the other hand, Joe is in the center and looks like the steady strength and glue he has always been in our relationship together. Gary is on the right and appears to be about ready to reach for the guidebook in his satchel. There is no doubt he is going to try to figure out where we are and where the actual Trevi fountain is located. Gary is good at figuring things out and making plans.

A strength of a good friendship, ministry team or church is when each person understands who they are; what their gifts and strengths are; and, how to serve each other while being true to who God has made each one of us. 1 Corinthians 12:7 says, "To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good." (ESV) In a church made up of Jews, including the former head of the synagogue, pagan Gentiles, slaves and wealthy merchants, it was incredibly important for each member to understand what they brought to the koinonia of the local fellowship.

Unfortunately, we often spend great portions of our lives trying to be something other than who God has made us to be - this is especially true for men. Even in ministry (or, maybe, especially in ministry) we tend to try and imitate whoever is the most successful, popular or "best-selling." We forget the truth that "... we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." (Ephesians 2:10, ESV)

One of the joys I have had with my closest friends and co-workers is experiencing the freedom of being who I am and knowing that God can use that for His glory. My personality is one that moves very quickly between being the class professor to that of being the class clown and back again. Sometimes I wish I could be the principal, "good student" or, even, the school janitor. However, I am never really comfortable in those roles.

In the 1980 film version of Popeye, actor Robin Williams wonders “what” he is. He asks first: “ What am I, some kind of barnacle on the dingy of life?" Later he asks, “What am I, some kind of a judge or lawyers (sic)? Maybe not, but I knows what laws suit me.” Finally, he concludes with the defining lines, "I yam what I yam."

If we are followers of Jesus Christ, we can have the certainty that we are who we are for His honor and glory. Each one of us has been given gifts and talents to help us build up the community of believers. For us, a "purpose-filled life" does not have to remain a former best-seller. Instead, it describes what God has called each one of us to.

What Do Missionaries Make?

2011-07-09T14:13:00.005-06:00

(with apologies to Taylor Mali and, possibly, George Carlin)

A well-meaning relative asked me, “What do missionaries make? I mean, can you live on it?”

He was about to offer me a job with his company, a place where I could make stuff which would allow me to have more stuff.

And, in the end, stuff is what life is all about – for many or for most.

What do missionaries make? It is a good question - the answer might surprise you.

The easy answer is “not enough,” but like most easy answers it does not tell the whole story.

And, in the end, the whole story is really what your life will be about.

Missionaries make a difference in the world. They reach children, youth and whole communities.

They take seriously the idea that “a man is no fool who gives up that which he cannot keep..”

And, in the end, many men find they have been fools by holding on to stuff that didn’t really matter.

Missionaries make the church live up and out to its vision. They make a purpose-filled church have an actual purpose.

They are part of walking the walk and talking the talk in world where form has come to have more value than content.

And, in the end, form will fade away and content is what, - well - you will have.

Missionaries make orphans into people – that matter. Missionaries make questioning college students listen.

They actually reach out to people that otherwise might be forgotten in their modern, economic miracles.

And, in the end, the real miracle is still that the “least of these” has real, authentic value.

Missionaries make the church uncomfortable. With their less-than stylish clothing and less-than trendy thoughts.

They make you think that maybe Jesus was serious when He said, “Unless a man gives up everything he cannot follow me.”

And, in the end, following Him is probably what “this” is still all about.

Missionaries probably make more mistakes that pastors, conference speakers and, even, tele-evangelists.

They are willing to try new things and really (really!) fail forward.

And, in the end, failing doesn’t hurt so much if you can know you made a little progress.

Missionaries certainly make less than doctors, lawyers, teachers and most employees of Wal-Mart.

They obviously thought that what you make is less important that making a difference.

And, in the end, that is all they will probably have – a life that made a difference.

A Father's Strength

2011-06-18T16:20:00.005-06:00

My father is 89 years old. In a recent phone conversation I asked him how he was doing and he said, “Not so good. I don’t feel as strong as I used to.” I must admit that I gave him a hard time for the comment. After a heart valve transplant, several prolonged hospital stays, and, recent surgery on his leg (to say nothing of almost nine decades of life on this planet), it is to be expected that Morgan would feel a bit off his game.

Besides, I am his youngest child and I personally don’t feel as energetic as I once did!

Still, it did bring back memories of how strong my father used to be. One of my favorite photos from childhood shows me at about five or six years of age in his arms. He has a suit and tie on with one of those really spiffy hats popular in the fifties. In the black and white photo I am also seen wearing a sports jacket with tie, riding high in my father’s one-armed grasp.

The only thing that kind of ruins the photo memory for me is that I think it was taken when we were going to a father/son activity at his church. If my general behavior in religious functions held true, we probably did not end the evening in the same good humor as we began it!

Still, the picture serves to remind me of how big my father’s chest was and how strong his arms were. As a kid I can remember trying to wrap my own arms around that chest – it just couldn’t be done!

Morgan and I wrestled together until I was probably 12 or 13 years old. Well, I wrestled. My father played with me. He was so strong that I couldn’t do anything to break his hold on me.

We quit wrestling after Morgan put me in a headlock one day, and I wouldn’t say "uncle.” I just wasn’t going to do it this time! My father continued to apply pressure to my head until we both heard a rather sickening cracking noise. No, it was not my head - far too hard for that. It was my father’s rib.

Somehow we never got back to championship wrestling after that injury.

When I think of Morgan’s strength, I am also reminded of God’s power. He is a strong God who offers each one of us strength for the journey. (Isaiah 40:29) Like my earthly father lifted me up in his right arm, so will my Heavenly Father. (Isaiah 41:10) Because of these promises, I can also have the strength to face the trials that are normal in life. (Ephesians 6:10)

As Morgan occasionally reminds me, being eighty-nine is not the easiest thing he has ever done. So, on this Father’s Day I hope he can hold on to a promise made to the tribe of Asher: “Your bars shall be iron and bronze, and as your days, so shall your strength be.” (Deut. 33:25)

Happy Father's Day, Morgan! Maybe next time I am back in the States we could find some time for a little re-match. I am feeling pretty good about my chances.

Reading Aloud

2011-06-13T09:45:00.002-06:00

This morning Su read the forward to a new edition of a book as I washed the dishes. Writing about the compliments the author had received on previous editions of the manuscript, he said: "Most heartwarming of all are those countless couples who tell me they have read the book aloud to each other. This amazes and delights me whenever I hear it. It's one thing for parents to read aloud to children. But when adults take time to read aloud to each other, it seems to me some fantastic good must be afoot in the world."

Re-reading this statement, it encourages me that Su and I have been the source of so much positive Zen in the world. It has been our habit to read books to each other since early in our marriage. One of the reasons we began to do this is that we had no television... probably not the worse problem for a newlywed couple. We have now had a television since our girls were little. However, since my own viewing habits are primarily defined as "news, news and more news,"and since most of that so-called news coverage seems pretty silly to me, we still read to each other.

[I must admit, I have never really gotten over Walter Cronkite retiring from the CBS Evening News in 1981.]

When we were younger our reading habits lent themselves to the popular books of the day: J.R.R. Tolkien's fantasies; C. S. Lewis' Space Trilogy; and, we even read some Francis Schaeffer and Watchman Nee to each other. Admittedly, a book by Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn defeated our best efforts to read it aloud. I think Su grew impatient with my pronunciation of the Russian names.

Over the years our habit of reading to each other came to include doing the same with our daughters. I am not sure how many times we went through the Chronicles of Narnia as a family. Of course, we read many classics popular among little girls. I am embarrassed that I still understand so little about the female psyche after reading most of the Anne of Green Gables books.

One of my favorite memories of reading to the girls was the time we chose a popular mystery novel to read aloud on a car trip in the States. As we neared our home we still had about thirty pages to go. Even though Su was hoarse from reading for the past hours, we chose to finish it rather than eat.

Our current reading list is rather eclectic. In the morning we have been reading The Apostle by John Pollock. Since we have less time in the morning, we have been reading it for about ten months. Paul is still with Silas and Timothy in Thessalonica. So, we have a ways to go.

In the evening we have several books in progress. What we choose to read depends on our mood and the time available. Su had been enjoying Introverts in the Church by Adam McHugh. For some unexplainable reason it didn't speak to me in the same way as it did to her. Both of us have been learning from Superfreakonomics. Recently, in honor of the 150th anniversary of the beginning of the Civil War, we decided to re-read Shaara's The Killer Angels. Now, we are both interested in visiting Gettysburg again.

Jesus read aloud. Of the three things that we know he did regularly - going to the synagogue, praying (Luke 22:39) and, teaching others (Mark 10:1) - two of them included reading aloud from the Scriptures. Once, when reading from Isaiah 61 to a group of people who had known him since he was a young man, what he read and how he interpreted it so angered the listeners that they tried to kill him.

Hopefully, our own reading habits will not have the same impact on others around us.

Oh, wait a second! Maybe that is the whole point. What we read and how we understand it should so transform us that it does impact those around us. Gloria Jean Watkins, wrote: "Life-transforming ideas have always come to me through books." It should go without saying that if our own lives are transformed we should be willing to be an agent of change among those with whom we connect in our everyday lives.

I Stink

2011-05-29T14:02:00.002-06:00

I stink.

Those of you who know me understand that I stink at several things: soccer (known in most of the world as football); cooking (and a multitude of other domestic skills); and, encouraging my wife when she doesn't feel well. The list is actually much, much longer, but Su likes me to keep these blog updates concise and for once I am in agreement with her!

Today I stink in a slightly more primordial way. I have been working outside all morning and I have been sweating in our 833% Costa Rican humidity.

Unfortunately, as is recently often the case, we have no water today. This means NO SHOWER. Even more unfortunately, I need to help with a wedding in a few hours' time. Obviously, I am going to have to find some urgent solution. The thought of getting into my suit in this condition is not for the faint of heart!

I have been impressed this week with the fact that the Bible contains a great deal about smell and odors.

In Leviticus 26:31 God indicates that His obedient people allow Him to smell a beautiful fragrance - and disobedience keeps that pleasure from Him. In fact, Deuteronomy 4:28 tells us that false gods or idols are distinguished from the true God because they do not have the ability to smell.

In Daniel 3:27 the proof of God's miracle in saving Daniel's friends is experienced ultimately in the fact that their clothing had no odor of smoke or fire. God proved Himself to be God by doing some divine dry-cleaning.

I could use some divine cleaning myself!

Of course, our sense of smell can sometimes confuse us. Isaac was deceived by the artificial smell of his son, Jacob. Men were encouraged to ignore the allure of an immoral woman's perfume.

Thinking of which, as much as I would like to get showered now, what I ultimately want to be or have about me is a fragrance for "life to life." (2 Corinthians 2:16) How I would like to have people smell the aroma of Christ when I am around. I want to spend so much time with Him that His very smell rubs off on me.

Admittedly, a lot of Him would have to rub off on me today for it to be any help in my current circumstance. Still, Su is hoping beyond hope right now... so is that couple about to get married!

2011-04-24T16:34:00.005-06:00

I should be thinking about the resurrection today. And, in some ways, I am. However, I must admit that I am also thinking about death – and, especially, the death of loved ones.

This morning, just as Easter Sunday was beginning in his part of the world, Merle Hanson passed into the presence of the Lord he loved. Merle was the father of Gary Hanson, one of my life-long friends. He was also someone who took a special interest in me when I was a new Christian.

Merle never tried to be a surrogate father to me. He knew I had my own father and always deferred to Morgan. Instead, he was one of the first men outside of my family who saw something in me and purposely chose to invest in me. Considering what I looked like back in those days, “gamble on me” might be a better use of the English language.

What he did was not out of the ordinary. However, as I look back on it, it is the essence of Christianity. He accepted me "as-I-was," spent time with me, and, helped build a foundation in my Christian walk that has served me in my own ministry many times over.

Whenever Su and I returned to Rochester we made a point to visit with Merle and Minerva. We could always count on leaving the Hansons' apartment with a book – something that Merle had read and which had spoken to his own heart. The last time we were with Merle he gave Su a copy of Joni Erickson Tada’s, A Place of Healing. He had read about the author’s battle with chronic pain and thought of Su’s own health struggles. I remember his voice broke as he talked about how he wanted to her to have this special book.

Looking back, I think one of the biggest lessons I took away from my relationship with Merle was the value of standing for Jesus – even in tough times and when the price is high. Merle knew how to “man up” before “manning up” was ever a part of the popular political lexicon.

It seems fitting that in sharing about a man who listened to me tell so many stories, that I should end with one – especially one that talks about standing for Jesus.

153 years ago a city-wide revival swept across Philadelphia. In some books it is simply referred to as “the work of God in Philadelphia.”

One of the best-known preachers in this revival was an Episcopalian priest named Dudley Tyng. He was known as a bold and uncompromising speaker. In addition to pastoring his own church, Rev. Tyng began holding noonday services at the downtown YMCA. Large crowds came to hear this dynamic, twenty-nine-year-old preacher.

On Tuesday, March 30th, 1858, over five thousand men gathered at mid-day to hear Tyng preach from the text, “Go now ye that are men, and serve the Lord” (Exodus 10:11, KJV). According to the records, over one thousand men committed their lives to Christ that day.

At one point in his message, Tyng shouted out, “I must tell my Master’s errand, and I would rather that this right arm were amputated at the trunk than that I should come short of my duty to you in delivering God’s message.”

Ironically, the very next week Tyng accidentally caught his loose sleeve between the cogs of a threshing machine on a farm he was visiting. The arm was crushed, the main artery severed. As a result of shock and loss of blood, the Rev. Dudley Tyng died.

On his deathbed he was asked for some final words by the group of friends and ministers who surrounded him. It is reported that he feebly whispered, “Let us all stand up for Jesus.”

The next Sunday, Tyng’s close friend and fellow preacher, the Rev. George Duffield, preached his morning sermon as a tribute to his departed friend. He closed his sermon by reading a poem that he had just finished writing, inspired, as he told his congregation, by the dying words of his friend.

I would like to close my own thoughts about my friend, Merle Hanson, by sharing the last two stanzas of that same poem:

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, the trumpet call obey;

Forth to the mighty conflict in this, His glorious day.

Ye that are men now serve Him against unnumbered foes;

Let courage rise with danger and strength to strength oppose.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, the strife will not be long;

This day the noise of battle – the next, the victor’s song.

To Him that overcometh a crown of life shall be:

He with the King of glory shall reign eternally.

Merle, for you the "noise of battle"is now past. This Easter morning you really did hear that Victor's song. I pray that some of us in whom you invested so much will now be "men enough" to live out the values you modeled for us.

CPR

2011-04-16T20:21:00.002-06:00

I grew up between "the town" and the "the country." This resulted in some level of identity confusion for me. The folks out in the country thought I was a town kid... and everyone knows that most town kids don't know enough to pull their hands out of their pockets and get to work. People in town thought I was from out in the country... and a bit too willing to talk about cows, pigs, chickens and the sometimes rather invasive procedures done to said animals when I was at the farm. In other words, it took me a while to catch on to the fact that discussion about castrating pigs should not be included in polite dinner conversation.

I must admit that, according to my daughters, I still bring up inappropriate topics of conversation.

Now, having said that, Su is not always the best help for me in developing politically correct criteria for conversation. As a nurse, she has been known to explore a variety of medical topics during our meals together. Believe me, you really do not want to know. After almost 36 years of marriage she is still capable of taking some of the joy away from my fried eggs, or, medium rare steak.

Believe it or not, my farm experiences were some of the best preparation I could have had for missionary service. Smells have never bothered me. That has been a big help in certain parts of Latin America. Out in the country you had to learn how to get up in the morning and do the next thing (without anyone looking over your shoulder). That has been a life-skill that has served me well as a missionary. I also learned that it takes some time to see the (literal) fruits of your labor. You may not see the results of the cultivating you do earlier in the year until October. Farming is not a microwave enterprise.

Of course, real Christianity is not an instant process either. In spite of all the self-help books in our virtual Christian bookstores, there is no magic bullet (besides God's grace) that gets anything done quickly in our faith walk. One example of this is evangelism and discipleship.

Building meaningful spiritual relationships requires our commitment to cultivating purposeful friendships. It takes time. Jesus cultivated by becoming a "friend to sinners" (Matthew 11:19) and spending a great deal of time with His disciples early in His public ministry (John 3:22). Cultivating relationships begins with a lifestyle of caring for people and being their friend. People matter to God and they should matter to us.

If all you did on the farm was prepare the soil, you would have no harvest in the fall. You have to plant seeds at the right time, at the right depth and in the right way. When we share the message of Jesus in the context of our cultivated friendships we should probably follow the same pattern. It does the cause of Christianity little good to hit people over the head with our message of hope at the wrong time and in the wrong way.

If we follow Jesus' model for cultivating and planting we may eventually be given the privilege of reaping. This will not happen if we do not present the real message of Jesus and invite people to respond. One of the dangers we must confront in pop Christianity is the tendency to add extra "stuff" to the plain-Jane message of the cross.

Cultivating, Planting, Reaping = CPR.

Because of her experience and professional training, Su is definitely the person you want hovering over you when you have a heart attack. She may encourage inappropriate medical discussions at the dinner table, but she definitely knows her CPR. While admittedly an abject failure with medical CPR, it is my hope that I will learn to live out the reality of cultivating, planting and reaping as Jesus did. It's not new; it's certainly not flashy. However, it is the last, best hope for passing on faith to the next generation.

Jump 'n Holler Heresy

2011-04-02T16:21:00.003-06:00

In recent conversations regarding a few best-selling, Christian books, I have heard the word "heresy" repeated several times. My ears perk up when this particular subject arises for at least two reasons: 1) It has been a long time since the Spanish Inquisition has been fully operational; and, 2) I have been accused of my own heresies during my ministry career. Yes, it must be hard to believe, but several people have found my teaching unpalatable over the years.

[Please note: The previous statement does not make reference to my daughters and wife who have been obligated to hear me preach the same sermon several times and still feign interest. That is a very different type of "unpalatable."]

Within three or four months of becoming a Christian, a group (that would later, unfortunately, evolve into a cult) invited me to become a leader in their "church." I may have been dumber-than-dirt as a new believer, but I knew enough to know that I was not prepared or qualified to be a leader in any Christian fellowship. When the group finally understood that my "no" meant "no," their leaders accused me of "holding hands with the devil" for shirking my God-given duty.

Funny, but I think God used that experience to help me think independently as a believer in Christ. It is hard to lose your reputation after you have been branded a heretic.

Early in my Christian walk I had the great privilege of using my rudimentary knowledge of music (primarily confined to six-chord rock 'n roll) to share my new-found faith. For at least two years I played with my good friend Gary Hanson in churches, coffee houses and city parks. A special memory was playing a concert in the middle of a cow pasture late on an October night for about eighty high-school and college aged students. Words cannot describe how cold human fingers can become playing guitar under those circumstances!

Once we were invited to play for a youth activity at church that - in the interest of protecting the guilty - will go unnamed. After setting up our amplifiers and doing everything necessary to play an hour-long set, we started in with two opening songs. Suddenly the pastor of the church went to the back of the stage and literally pulled the plug on us. He then came out and began to explain to the audience that anyone who played guitars was actually an agent of Satan.

This was rapidly becoming a recurring theme in my Christian life.

Since those inauspicious beginnings, I have had people criticize my ministry and teaching on a number of occasions.

I was once accused of not preaching the Gospel because I didn't "yell enough in my sermons." Now, admittedly this was in the deep South where, years ago, a type of "jump an' holler" homiletic was considered the norm. Still, I continue to fail to understand the direct relationship between vocal volume and the communication of the Good News.

I now like to warn those listening to my preaching or teaching that I might be presenting a heresy to them. It just seems to be a common courtesy. This past week I did so with a group of men at our Multiplication Center in Costa Rica. In trying to work through the early chronology of Paul's life, I suggested that he probably left Damascus, went to Arabia for three years and returned to Damascus before he had to be let down in the basket to escape the city and his persecutors. Funny how a small twist like that can unsettle people.

One of my long-standing "heresies" is that I am a missionary who doesn't believe in the "Great Commission." As I look at Matthew 28:19 and 20, I do not see a command to "go into the world" as much as I see an emphasis on "making disciples as-we-go." In the Greek, the strong verb in the passage is "mathēteuō" which literally means "to disciple." The modifying verb translated as "go" in our English Bibles is probably better understood to mean "as-you-are-going."

Of course, the implication of my "Everyday Commission" heresy is that we are all responsible to live as disciples of Jesus Christ and make disciples as we go through our normal lives. The hope for next-generation Christianity is not special missionaries who go to foreign lands. Instead, it would seem the plan has always been that each one of us would actually be serious disciples of Jesus and, as we go through the lives we are called to live, we would make disciples among those around us.

I must admit, I wish Christians could start talking about heresies like this one a bit more and discussing some of the NY Times best-seller books a bit less. More than that, I wish we could do less talking altogether and have a lot more "being and making." However, those are the kind of sentiments that will probably get me burned at the stake some day.

By the way, if that actually happens, I hereby promise to make up for all my previous short-comings in the "jump an' holler"department. Trust me, I will.

Rocket Surgeon Theology

2011-03-27T10:50:00.004-06:00

When we lived in La Paz, Bolivia, I wore a tie everyday. Funny, but in a country where poverty was a reality for most of the population, you were expected to wear a jacket and tie if you worked in an office. If you only had one suit you wore it day after day after day. Since most of these suits were wool or wool blends it led to "rich" ambient odors in many offices.

I grew so accustomed to wearing a tie that I once went to bed without taking it off. Su turned to look at me before switching off the light and asked me if I would at least consider removing it to sleep.

Living in Costa Rica, my normal office attire now consists of jeans and t-shirts. Sometimes I wear blue jeans. Other days I wear black jeans. If I am going to have an important meeting I have been known to put on a shirt with a collar. In fact, when I come into the office wearing a regular shirt, people ask me who I am going to meet with!

My t-shirts fall into three categories: first, those that I have been given from a youth ministry; second, those that my wife or daughters have given me because they thought I would like them; and, third, those that I saw and actually bought for myself. The third category is definitely the smallest.

Like anyone else, I have some favorite t-shirts.

A work team from Autumn Ridge Church came down last year wearing shirts with the likeness of Charlton Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments. The slogan on the t-shirt reads "Old Guys Rule." I knew I had to have one of those the first time I saw it!

Thinking of shirts from Autumn Ridge, Bill Havyer gave me a tan t-shirt with a picture of Will Ferrell and the logo "More Cowbell." I wear it around men of a certain age.

For some inexplicable reason, I also have a number of t-shirts with Woody Woodpecker. My favorite is one that was given to me by friends which shows a rather bedraggled Woody holding an empty mug with the slogan, "Got Coffee?" It seems especially appropriate on a morning after a very short night.

I have a shirt from Woody's Smokehouse in Centerville, Texas. It boasts that it is the "jerky capital of the world." However, I have no way to actually verify that claim. It also states in small letters, "Eat here and get gas." I suppose repeated trials of their product could prove or disprove that statement.

Last year Su gave me four t-shirts for my birthday. Considering that one was an official Vikings shirt and another from the Dallas Cowboys, you can understand why some people have wondered if I might be slightly schizophrenic. Alas, we do not choose our team allegiances; they choose us.

Another shirt came from LeTourneau University. I always like to wear LeTourneau shirts... as long as they do not have that silly yellow-jacket mascot on them! Since LeTourneau is not very well known outside of East Texas and aviation circles, people often ask me, "So, you went to school in...?" My usual response is, "Yes."

My favorite shirt from Su simply says, "I'm no rocket surgeon." It is a true statement.

I often make a similar claim regarding our ministry. It is not that hard to understand. In fact, even people with confused sports allegiances can probably grasp it. First, we want to actually be real disciples who reflect the character and the priorities of Jesus. Second, we want to help form disciples who are capable of forming other disciples. Where we do it and how we do it is not as important as actually seeing that end-product.. disciples forming next-generation disciples.

It is not rocket surgery or brain science. In an age when people seem to build their careers by making Christianity sound as complex and controversial as possible, it might just be time to get back to the basics. "Getting-back-to-basics-Christianity" might not sell many books (or t-shirts!), but it can still change our world.

Preachers and Politicians

2011-03-12T08:45:00.002-07:00

Tomorrow Su and I leave for Cartagena, Colombia, where I am scheduled to preach on Monday evening to a group of IT missionaries on Galatians, chapter six. Believe it or not, this message was originally inspired after seeing a video of a lady's softball game that took place between the University of Western Oregon and the University of Central Washington. However, the message I have written on my computer today is very different from the idea I started with - Scripture has a funny way of changing our thoughts and opinions.

Preaching is beginning to seem a bit old-fashioned. There was a time in the "not-so-long-ago" that preachers and pastors were looked at with a kind of respect. Today, if I ever tell someone that I am a pastor/missionary/preacher, it is not unusual to see them reflexively touch their wallets or purses, just to make sure they still have them.

A Canadian politician was criticized by a columnist who said, "(He) is a preacher, not a politician." The implication was obvious. Preachers are by nature intolerant, impatient, and arrogant. Preachers are “know-it-alls,” dangerous to the citizenry of an enlightened and pluralized public.

Personally, it is a blow to find out my career choice has made me lower than a politician! My parents had hoped for so much more.

One of the reasons preaching seems to have fallen from favor is that it has become "uncool" to declare we know anything with certainty. Rather than framing an argument and making a statement, we now speak with so many conditional clauses that it becomes impossible for anyone to know what we really believe.

I love a poem by Taylor Mali entitled, Totally like whatever, you know? One of its stanzas reads this way:

"Declarative sentences - so-called
because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true
as opposed to other things which were, like, not -
have been infected by a totally hip
and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like, don't think I'm uncool just because I've noticed this;
this is just like the word on the street, you know?
It's like what I've heard?
I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I'm just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?"

The problem with preaching - at least preaching from the Bible - is that it is full of declarative statements. Some of those statements may make me uncomfortable but, if I am going to be truthful to the text, I can't change them.

In Galatians six, Paul makes some strong declarations. This former Pharisee, one of the up-and-coming leaders of his generation says, "But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." (Galatians 6:14) Not much "wiggle room" in that type of statement. The challenge is right in front of each of us who read it.

Now, if you still have interest in the video that started me on this expository journey, you can find it at this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVlKtI7yd_s Of course, your challenge is to think of why I ever went to Galatians six after seeing it!

Borders is Bankrupt, and That Means Something ... I Think!

2011-02-23T15:17:00.000-07:00

We all have our little vices. For some people that is chocolate. For others it may be over-priced coffee. I know a small group of Christian men (mostly leaders) who love to watch boxing together - and are embarrassed to let anybody else in on their secret.

Without a doubt, one of my greatest vices in life has been bookstores. Really. My family has "lost" me in bookstores more than once. Su had a plan for the day. The girls wanted to see something else while they were in the States. However, I was lost in a bookstore and no one could find me. Plans had to be modified because Papi (that's me!) couldn't be trusted when he said he only needed a few minutes in the bookstore.

Now, news has reached even Central America that Borders Bookstores has gone bankrupt. The mega-bookstore seems to be headed in the same direction as the record shop - more empty space in another strip mall.

There are good reasons Borders went belly-up. They over-expanded and over-bought. They also made wrong management decisions regarding the development their own digital reader. In fact, I am sure there is already a book in the works regarding the mistakes management made and the lessons we can learn from them - maybe it will even become in bestseller in the few, remaining Borders stores.

However, without a doubt one of the reasons Borders became over-extended is that people's reading habits are changing. As I travel, I see more and more people with Kindle readers (or the competition's equivilant) and less "dead tree books." It has become easier to download than it has to drive down the road to a brick and mortar store.

I must admit this has certain advantages to people like Su and me. After all, if you can buy it on-line in the States you can also buy it on-line in Costa Rica. Books that I used to have to wait months and, even, years to read are suddenly available to me hot off the virtual press. Some of you reading this note have recommended your latest book to me and I have downloaded it while we were still on the phone together.

Still, there is something special about going into a bookstore - especially if it also sells chocolate and over-priced coffee! I love to wander down the aisles and pick out five or six books that interest me. When I sit down with my latte and read a bit out of each book, I have visions of what heaven could be like.

Of course, being a missionary, I rarely buy any of those books! Perhaps this is another reason Borders has gone bankrupt. Coffee sales simply can't support a million dollar book inventory.

I am going to miss large bookstores. They had become my favorite part of visiting the States. I am sadden that a vice that Su could never quite modify in my person has been effectively handled by something as simple as economics. I was really hoping to hold out longer.

Abraham Lincoln said, "It has been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues." It seems that people who think they have no need of forgiveness demonstrate little grace to others. Let us hope that we can avoid becoming people with all the disliked virtues and none of the admired vices.

Thoughts from a Sick Bed

2011-02-14T16:04:00.001-07:00

I am sick. By that I mean I have one of those coughs that make people look at you in the airport and, then, reach for their anti-bacterial ooze bottle. Yesterday was not an easy flight.

I believe that I may be the recipient of a parting gift from Sandi Miller, our host in Ecuador. I knew that Sandi deserved some kind of medal for all she did for us while feeling ill during our recent visit. Now, I understand that if she felt half as bad as I feel today, she deserves the medal of honor for "hospitality above and beyond the call of duty."

It is much harder for a man to admit that he is ill than it is for a woman. Women seem to have better understanding of their bodies - I believe this is currently referred to as "self-literacy." Men do not know they are really sick until their wife tells them. This is the reason that single men never get ill.

Truth be told, most men feel they are indestructible. This leads them (but never me) to do things out of the ordinary. It also leads them into making some terrible mistakes in life. Many men really do think they will get away with it - whatever "it" is.

Getting sick is one way God has of informing us that we are not eternal. It should also lead us to wonder if "all this" is really all that. I believe it was John Donne who wrote, "God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness."

This week one of our friends from "Principe de Paz" passed away after a four-week illness. At 82 years of age, I do not think that Dona Lili was taken by surprise. She used to say, "I have a beautiful home - a very beautiful home. However, it is not in this world. It is waiting for me in the next one."

Hey... this is Susan taking over. Woody ran out of steam, and asked me to write the conclusion to this note. Woody will be fine, though he's feeling pretty tough right now. I'm giving him plenty of TLC and trust he'll do the same if this nasty bug catches me next!

With the the death of two friends in the course of a week, it brings to mind the words of one of my favorite missionary poets, Amy Carmichael, based on Psalm 17:15, "As for me, I will be vindicated and will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness."

Oh think! To step ashore and that shore Heaven;
To breathe new air, and that celestial air;
To feel refreshed and know 'tis immortality.
Oh think! To pass from storm and stress to one unbroken calm;
To wake and find it Glory.

Explosions

2011-01-15T19:41:00.002-07:00

Life is full of explosions... and some blasts are bigger than others.

This week we received the news that the grandson of Su's brother had been murdered in Orlando. Certainly this is the type of "life-blast" that any person hopes to avoid. There are no words that can console the heart of someone who has lost a loved one to senseless violence. Sometimes we can only "weep with those who weep"(Rom. 12:15).

An "explosion" of a different kind came with the news that Julie Swenson, wife of Kyle Swenson and IT alumnus, gave birth to twins about six weeks earlier than she had planned or hoped. Though tiny, Benjamin Dale and Kelsey Jo are both doing well. We will have to see how the parents adjust to this life-changing experience!

A far less important explosion occurred when the radiator on our Suzuki Vitara literally blew up on Friday. Su and I were on the way to have lunch in San Pedro with different individuals we are mentoring. About half way there we heard a loud thump and steam and coolant began to pour out from - well, everywhere we could see! We coasted to a stop within 50 meters in heavy traffic. When the steam cleared, we could see where the top of the radiator had blown open.

The unexpected has a way of breaking into our lives. We make our plans. We prepare for the anticipated. Then, life with all its sadness, joy and surprises breaks in on our "normal."

The ultimate example of this phenomenon is found in 2 Peter 3:2 where we read, "The day of the Lord's return will surprise us like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a loud noise, and the heat will melt the whole universe. Then the earth and everything on it will be seen for what they are." (CEV)

That kind of sounds like the explosions I have already mentioned. One minute everything is normal and the next everything has changed.

Water Water Everywhere

2010-12-05T16:28:00.002-07:00

Even if you managed to escape reading the actual poem in high school, almost everyone in the English-speaking world is familiar with certain lines from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.

This past week, we have been living some of the reality of that poem (fortunately minus the trip to the Antarctic, death of an albatross, and evil spirits playing dice for the souls of men).

We have been getting so much rain that sometimes it feels like we are dog-paddling when we walk between buildings. Several days we have had over three inches of rain - on Wednesday we had almost four! In times like these, we remember why they call it a rain forest.

With this much rain you would think that we would have plenty of water at our house. That would be where you have it wrong. For some reason that we (and apparently the local utility company) have never understood, whenever we get lots of rain we lose the water at our house. So, while the rain came down outside, nothing was going down our sinks, showers or toilets.

Fortunately, the Multiplication Center has a good cistern and swimming pool. We were able to carry water in plastic jerrycans to the house to allow us to take care of some of our most basic needs.

Struggling with water for a few days always reminds us of how privileged we are to actually have it in the first place. Much of the world doesn't have access to clean or, even, useful water. Because of that, some experts say that 40 percent of the world's population currently finds itself in geopolitical tension over water.

Because the Bible was written in a part of the world where water is scarce, it shouldn't surprise us that it has such an important part in the biblical narrative. The lack of water was very serious and drought was seen as an evidence of the wrath of God. The prophets Elijah, Jeremiah and Haggai all predicted drought as punishment from God (1 Kings 17:1; Jeremiah 14: 1-6; and, Haggai 1: 10-11).

On the other hand, rainfall was seen as a sign of God's favor and goodness. In the Bible water serves as a symbol of God's blessing and spiritual refreshment. One of my favorite examples is found in Isaiah 35:6,7: "..then shall the lame man leap like a deer, and the tongue of the mute sing for joy. For waters break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; in the haunt of jackals, where they lie down, the grass shall become reeds and rushes."

Jesus understood the value of water as a symbol. When He met with the Samaritan woman He said, "..but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life" (John 4:14, ESV). When the Samaritan woman heard about that type of water, she definitely seemed willing to give her all to posses it

Not having water this week - and how much I missed it! - helped me to meditate on how much I treasure the spiritual water I am privileged to have. Truth be told, sometimes I take it for granted. It seems like more grace always comes out of the tap. I hope I can mature enough that I rejoice in the salvation I have at least as much as I rejoiced in seeing water come out of our faucets and go down our toilets this week.

Harvest Home

2010-11-21T16:25:00.001-07:00

Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home;
All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin.
God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied;
Come to God's own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.*

It seems like harvest time used to have more significance when I was younger. Of course, when I was younger I lived around lots of people who actually harvested! It was a normal for guys at my school to miss classes so they could help combine corn. I should add that young men also missed school for deer hunting, ice fishing, and any other manly activity their father was convinced was more important than academics.

Although we lived "in the country," my father worked for IBM. I studied math.

The harvest of 68 million acres of corn in the United States is an incredible task done each year by fewer and fewer farmers. It doesn't happen without a lot of planning, work, luck,and more work.

Charles Swindoll tells about visiting a citrus orchard belonging to an older man in his congregation. When an orange fell down and hit Swindoll on the head, he responded by saying, "Did you see what just happened?" The farmer picked up the fruit and said, "It didn't "just happen." I planted, fertilized, pruned and cared for these trees. There is a reason for it."

The Bible uses the image of the harvest to communicate several truths:

In the Old Testament, after both the flood and Noah's sacrifice, God said,"While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease" (Genesis 8:22, ESV). The harvest was seen as part of the natural rhythm of life.

The New Testament explains several ideas using the imagery of the harvest.

The "harvest passage" that most quickly comes to mind is found in Matt 9:37. Jesus said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few." He went on to encourage His disciples to pray for additional workers. That need still exists.

In Matthew 13 Jesus uses the idea of an eventual "eternal harvest" to talk about impostors in our midst - people that look like they belong, but don't. We are told that eventually everything will be revealed when God's angels reap the final harvest.

I am both frightened and comforted by the idea of angels reaping a harvest.

In Matthew 21 Jesus told a story that was probably directed to the religious leaders of the time. A landowner had built a vineyard and then leased it to tenant farmers. When it was harvest time he sent his slaves and, later, servants to collect his due. Instead the tenants beat some of the land owner's representatives and killed others. Finally, the landowner sent his own son - thinking he would be treated with more respect and listened to. And, as we all know, they didn't. In fact, they took him outside of the vineyard and killed him.

Of course all of these pictures of the harvest speak to us about kingdom realities. We really will "reap what we sow." Given the choice, and by the grace of God we have been given the choice, I would rather be a worker in the harvest, than a thistle (imposter) or one who has rejected the Son.

*The author of those lines was Henry Alford, a graduate of Trinity College, Cambridge. He was a serious scholar who produced books on Homer, English poetry, and the Greek New Testament. He also wrote the following in his Bible when he was only 16: "I do this day in the presence of God and my own soul renew my covenant with God and solemnly determine henceforth to become his and to do his work as far as in me lies." Not bad, for a teenager

Life Goes Better With Su!

2010-11-13T20:56:00.002-07:00

The 1963 advertising slogan for Coca-Cola was,"Things go better with Coke."* I cannot objectively verify the truth of that statement. However, I do remember once buying a can of contraband Coke in Cuba from a man who approached me in a small airport as though he were selling drugs. As I drank the cold soda in that hot, humid terminal, everything started to look much better.

Because of Su having some unexpected surgery in Texas, we have been separated for about two weeks. Although some of my time has been taken up with a team visit, I have been at the house without her for several days. At this point I am prepared to say with certainty: Life goes better with Su!

A very short list providing empirical proof of my thesis:

Getting up in the morning is better when Su is around. I usually start my day at about 5:45 with a cup of coffee and my Bible reading. Su makes that coffee as an act of love... she hasn't been able to drink it for about twenty years. The coffee serves to open my eyes, fire the few neurons I still have, and remind me of my wife's interest in me.

I can and do make coffee. It just tastes better when Su does it.

Breakfast is better when Su is here. Now, to be honest, although I suffer from a severe case of JODD (Juvenile Onset Domesticity Disorder), I can manage to fry an egg, toast bread and pour milk on my cereal... without other adult supervision! However, what I miss when Su is not here is the conversation. Over breakfast we usually talk about what we have read in Scriptures and what we are learning. It is often one of the best conversations I have during the entire day.

I have tried to do this with our dog, but my attempts have only proven that she has not learned anything! Zippo. Nada.

Ministry is more enjoyable when Su does it with me. I realize that some of you think that we constantly suffer in our role in missions. So, I want to break this to you easily: Truth be told, it is a privilege to be involved in forming disciples in Latin America. In fact, most days (but not all) I enjoy it very much. It is simply a greater privilege and more enjoyable when I get to do it with Susan.

Watching television is better with Su. Yes, we are missionaries and we do watch television. I, in particular, have a "news jones" that will not quit. I still watch news programs when Su is not here. However, when I provide my unusually insightful (and pretty sarcastic) commentary regarding that same news, Su is not here to provide a "fair and balanced" corrective. I also miss her comments on the newscasters outfits or make-up.

Doing household chores with Su is much, much more enjoyable. Almost every evening Su and I wash dishes together. While one of us washes and dries, the other reads aloud from our current book. The best part about it is that we usually talk about what we are reading. I have tried to listen to podcasts and the radio and have even sung out loud while washing, but none of that activity fills the void that Su being gone has produced.

So, there you have it! The simple fact is that life goes better with Su. I would be willing to allow you to verify it by having her come for a visit. However, not now. And, perhaps, not for a very long time to come in the future.

* The 1982 slogan for Coke in Poland was: "Coca-Cola. To jest to!" I have no idea what this means, but any modern slogan using the word "jest" is worth repeating.

Walking Past the Graveyard

2010-10-30T17:36:00.004-06:00

People in rural communities interact with their cemeteries more often than people in urban centers do.

Seriously.

Even though I have been gone from the area for years, I could probably draw a map of Dale Pleasant Prairie Cemetery (in rural Zumbro Falls) which would identify at least twenty graves. I even know where people are buried that never had a tombstone!

Well, at least I know what my father told me... which was probably based on what his father told him.

You get the idea.

Most people find little comfort in graveyards. They seem spooky or frightening - therefore, the connection with Halloween. However, I must admit to a fascination with what I find there.

In the Zumbro Falls cemetery there are a number of graves dating 1918-1919. They represent the Spanish flu pandemic that most people have all but forgotten. It is hard to have any certainty, but between 50 and 100 million people died in this wave of influenza, making it one of the deadliest natural disasters in history. I appreciate the fact those headstones still serve as a reminder of something so tragic.

Of course, I have a lot of family buried at Pleasant Prairie. Both sets of my grandparents are buried there. My Aunt Ella, who served as a missionary in Colombia, has her grave at Pleasant Prairie. My Uncle Lloyd fought up the boot in Italy in WWII, but he died a normal death in Minnesota and is buried with people he knew all his life. Just recently my Aunt Darlene died unexpectedly. As expected she was buried at Pleasant Prairie.

I appreciate it when people demonstrate a bit of humor on their gravestones. And, yes, as you can imagine, I have collected a few examples.

From England:

Ann Mann
Here lies Ann Mann,
Who lived an old maid,
But died an old Mann.
Dec. 8, 1767

From La Pointe, Wisconsin:

To the Memory of
Abraham Beaulieu
Born 15 September 1822
Accidentally shot 4th April 1844
As a mark of affection from his brother

One of the scariest, funniest tombstones I have been made aware of is found in Fodice, Texas (southeast of Crockett). At the Flat Prairie Foster Cemetery you can find the tombstone for Woody Roland. I am, of course, not making this up. Apparently, my namesake was a Private in the U.S. Army during WWII.

Cemeteries, like death, should serve to remind us of what is important in life.

Eugene Peterson has written a memoir entitled The Pastor. In it he tells about visiting a Benedictine monastery named "Christ in the Desert." As Peterson and his wife were on their way to the refectory where they were to have lunch, they walked past the cemetery and noticed an open grave. Peterson inquired about who had passed away.

"No one." he was told. "That grave is for the next one."

Every day the monks in that community went past an open grave as they walked between the dining room and the chapel. As they did, they were reminded of what most people spend their waking hours trying to forget. One of them would be "the next one."

A sobering thought.

Maybe if we paid more attention to what we find in cemeteries we would also pay more attention to how we should live before we arrive there.

Atheists Have No Hymns

2010-10-16T14:40:00.001-06:00

In recent years it has become fashionable for adult children of famous individuals to write autobiographies describing the challenge or, even horror, of growing up in the home of a public persona. This has been especially true of children of former Hollywood stars. However, even children of famous Christians have gotten into the act. Franky Schaeffer, son of Francis Schaeffer, has written Crazy for God and Jay Bakker, son of Jim Bakker (of PTL Club fame) wrote Son of a Preacher Man.

With my never-ending desire to do what is popular, I guess it is now time for me to come clean... to “open up”... to purge my soul of the dark secrets of my childhood.

As I have thought through the list of terrible things I suffered while in my father’s home, besides being obligated to actually eat meals together and engage in meaningful conversation, I would say one of the worst abuses I suffered was being forced to engage in spontaneous hymn singing. That’s right! It is unbelievable, but my father (or sister or someone else) would suddenly be overcome with an inexplicable compulsion and we would all end up around the piano and actually sing through the hymnal.

I should point out that my father was strictly non-denominational when it came to hymnals - Methodist, Baptist, Holiness and others. He seemed to care more about the words and music than he did about the label on the cover.

Now, please be aware this was in a day when people did not live in hermetically sealed homes on over-sized lots. This was back when you could actually hear what was going on in your neighbor’s house! Much to my chagrin, people in the neighborhood not only heard us sing, they sometimes joined us.

I think you are beginning to understand the level of psychic pain I was forced to endure.

In John Wesley’s Instructions for Singing from 1761, point number four reads: “Sing lustily and with a good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half dead, or half asleep; but lift up your voice with strength …” Let me assure you, no one would have accused us of singing as though we were “half dead or asleep.” In fact, my hymn-singing experiences impacted me to such an extent that on one of my grade school report cards the teacher noted by the subject of music that: “Woody must learn that a loud voice is not necessarily a nice voice.”

This childhood trauma continues to deeply impact me. Just last night, Su began singing while we washed dishes together. Without a moment’s hesitation and like one of Pavlov’s dogs, I joined her as we began to sing through some of “the old ones.” You can see I still have no ability to resist.

During this past year my parents have had to deal with several health crises. Although I have been of little or no help in most of these situations, I did have the privilege of being there one day when we had to take my mother to the emergency room. After several hours filled with the emotional stress these kind of experiences provoke, I found myself sitting at the kitchen table in my parent’s house with one of my sisters, my daughter Krista, and my father. (My mother stayed in the hospital.) I am not sure how this happened, but from somewhere an old Baptist hymnal appeared and we began singing. We were tired, worn-out and certainly not in good form. Truth be told, we were so bad that it probably hurt my sleeping grandson’s ears. Still, because we didn’t know any better, we sang.

“Beyond the sunset, no clouds will gather, No storms will threaten, no fears annoy.."

And we sang.

“He is able to deliver thee, He is a-----ble to deliver thee; Tho’ by sin opprest, Go to Him for rest; Our God is able to deliver thee.”

And we sang.

“Tho’ the angry surges roll, On my tempest driven soul, I am peaceful, for I know, Wildly through winds may blow, I‘ve an anchor safe and sure, That can evermore endure. And it holds, my anchor holds.”

When my agnostic friends have asked me why I believe, I sometimes blame my upbringing. It is hard to doubt when you can sing songs like the above. I recently heard Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers sing Atheists Have No Songs. One of the lines goes: “Born-agains sing He is risen, but no one ever wrote a hymn for godless existentialism..”

I am not sure if that is completely true. However, if they have written those songs, none of them come to mind when you are in the emergency room or washing dishes or thinking about how much you miss singing some of the old ones.

This Means War!

2010-09-26T07:00:00.002-06:00

My reading tastes are best described as eclectic. I am happy when I am reading five different books representing five different genres of literature. Occasionally, just occasionally, the juxtaposition of the different books allows me the illusion of seeing something new.

One of the books I am currently reading is The Rising Tide by Jeff Shaara. As the book begins, Hitler controls western Europe, and US troops are facing off against the Germans in North Africa. It is especially interesting to read the descriptions of the Allies’ battles against Field Marshal Erwin Rommel's Afrika Korps. The challenges and frustrations of command are seen through the eyes of historical figures like Generals Eisenhower and Clark and Field Marshal Montgomery.

Rommel was an interesting guy. Although he had been an officer during WWI, he had no experience with armor until he was named commander of a panzer division in February 1940. The tactics he then developed were credited with hastening the collapse of the French at the beginning of the war. Even though he was at one time close to Hitler, in 1944 he entered into a conspiracy against him. He died after being given the choice between going to trial or committing suicide - he chose the cyanide capsule.

Meanwhile, I have also been studying up on the subject of spiritual warfare. On Wednesday I will be teaching three sessions on that subject for our Formation students.

One definition of spiritual warfare is: "The life-long battle to become more like Christ and to see Him work through us to free others so that they can also grow spiritually." For these young adults, I'm not sure if they can relate to a term like "life-long." I'm not even sure I can get my head around that concept!

Shaara’s book on WWII emphasizes the importance (and near impossibility) of knowing your enemy. The Bible identifies at least three enemies we have in our own spiritual battlefield: the world, the flesh and Satan. The Scriptures give us many insights into the effective alliance of these enemy forces.

Sometimes I feel like I am my own, worst enemy. I don’t need anyone else attacking me when my own weaknesses are enough to trip me up! But, it's still helpful to look at Jesus and see how He resisted His enemies:

He recognized the rulers of this world actually exist. It is hard to fight an enemy you don’t believe is there. (John 12:31, 14:30)
He established His own rule in opposition to Satan’s. (Matt. 4:24; Mark 6:45-52; Luke 7:11-17; John 7:15)
He resisted Satan with Scriptures, by praying and by obeying the will of His Father. (John 5:30-36; Matt. 4:1-11; Hebrews 5:7)
He trained and equipped His disciples to continue the battle. (Luke 10:1-20; 22:31-32; Acts 1:8)

The end to The Rising Tide was already an historical reality 60 years ago. It encourages me to know that Jesus has the winning battle plan. It is much easier to keep on fighting when I know the end of the story.

No Denying the Smell

2010-09-04T17:29:00.001-06:00

Su and I spent our Saturday afternoon fixing a toilet. We fixed the same toilet last weekend. Apparently our solution didn't do the trick. We could tell that we still had a problem on Sunday evening by a distinct odor that we both tried to ignore until at least Tuesday.

Please understand: I am not a lead handyman kind of guy. I am more of the "I-will-hold-the-light-and- pass-you-the-tools" kind of weekend warrior. I blame my father for this. He trained me well in light-holding and tool-passing. In fact, he trained me so well that, once, when I was carrying on my normal role, I was asked if I had a union card.

A lesser man than me would have been insulted.

Still, at a certain point in life, you have to quit looking around for someone else to fix the problem. This point comes much quicker when the problem involves certain odors which you simply cannot deny. The need to create a solution is further accelerated when the subject of "the smell" becomes the main topic of conversation with your wife.

There is no getting around it - life is going to hand us a certain amount of, uh, poopy problems. We would like to avoid them. We look for wise counsel that would help us avoid slipping into them. However, to paraphrase a common saying, life happens.

When we find ourselves in those kind of situations, no amount of positive thinking is going to help. The last thing we need is for someone to tell us everything is okay when our eyes are watering and we can no longer catch our breath. Trust me, when it comes to believing your nose or words, your nose is always going to win.

Unfortunately, we do not seem to have the same innate instinct when it comes to spiritual issues.

In Jeremiah, God's people found themselves "up-to-their-noses." Those who were not killed had been taken off into captivity. There should have been no denying they were in very deep water.

Still, the false prophets continued to tell them that everything was okay. They would soon be back in Jerusalem. In essence they were saying,"I know it stinks so bad your eyes are watering. However, everything really is fine."

These were men who abused their power. They are described in Jeremiah 23:10 this way: "Their course is evil, and their might is not right"(ESV). They helped those who did evil instead of calling on them to repent (23:14,22). They filled people with false hope, telling them they wouldn't suffer any harm (23:16,17).

The last thing we need when there is no longer an ability to deny the stink around us is false hope. We need the truth.

Jeremiah wrote a letter to his relatives in captivity and said, "The message of these prophets is like straw. God's Word is like wheat. You decide which you will choose. However, remember God's Word is like a hammer - capable of breaking rocks into small pieces" (23:28,29).

When not actively engaging in "smell denial" this week, I watched a bit of news. 72 people were tied up and shot in Mexico - they refused to pay the men extorting them. The unemployment rate in the U.S. crept up again. While the unemployment rate went up, the largest human trafficking ring to ever be discovered in the States resulted in charges against six people.

It might be time for us to recognize how bad the odor has become and pay attention to some truth-telling. It might be time to get back to God's Word.

Stumbling Over Truth

2010-08-29T15:21:00.003-06:00

If one of my co-workers heard me complimenting the weather this past week, they would have understood from the context that I was being sarcastic. We have experienced over 40 tropical waves since the beginning of July – all of them bringing rain. The tourist brochures may call this the “green season,” but we think of it more as “proof-the-world-was-once-destroyed-by-the-flood” season.

As you can see, I sometimes use sarcasm to reflect on reality. Hopefully I use it as a tool for good. However, I admit that on occasion I have injured people with a hurtful comment.

Sarcasm is an example of what linguists call “unplain speaking” - ways of speaking in which what is said differs from what is meant. This category of language also includes forced politeness, ritual language, and affectation. Sarcasm, which has been defined as “biting irony,” comes from the Greek sarkasmos, “to tear the flesh.” And, as we all know, sarcasm is often recognized as a cutting remark meant to inflict pain.

Still, Shakespeare used sarcasm to make a point. Geoffrey Chaucer used sarcasm to criticize an immoral clergy in The Canterbury Tales. Both G. K. Chesterton and Winston Churchill showed tremendous skill wielding this literary tool. One of my favorite quotes from the latter is, “Men occasionally stumble on the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened.”

It may be surprising for some to find examples of sarcasm in the Bible. It is perhaps even more surprising that inspired authors used it to communicate God’s message to man.

In response to Israel once again wandering away from their divine purpose and following the local religions, God said to them, “Go and cry out to the gods whom you have chosen; let them save you in the time of your distress" (Judges 10:14, ESV). Talk about biting irony! Those idols couldn’t do anything to save Israel in their time of need.

Paul reproved some “prophets” with a mildly sarcastic remark: “Or was it from you that the word of God came? Or are you the only ones it has reached?” (1 Cor. 14:36, ESV). No prophet would want to say he or she was the only one who received a revelation, so Paul’s remark was meant to remind these people of their need to listen to others… maybe even to Paul, himself.

One of my favorite examples of sarcasm in the Bible is when Elijah used biting irony against Baal’s prophets on Mt. Carmel. No doubt this sarcasm embarrassed and frustrated them. However, I think Elijah’s words were really meant for the people of Israel - to show them how pointless it was to worship Baal. “And at noon Elijah mocked them, saying, ‘Cry aloud, for he is a god. Either he is musing, or he is relieving himself, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened’” (1 Kings 18:27, ESV).

If I remember correctly, the original Living Bible rendered this, “Maybe he is thinking, or he is sitting in the outhouse.” That always tickled the country boy in me.

Isaiah engaged in a rather lengthy satire about idolatry. In Isaiah, chapter 46, we are introduced to Babylon’s two most important deities – Bel (also called Marduk) and Nebo. Apparently, they were taken down from their temples when Cyrus the Persian attacked. Some commentators believe the Babylonians were forced to flee carrying their heavy idols. Instead of helping, this heavy load would have kept the Babylonians from escaping their fates. In Isaiah 46:2 the situation is described this way, “(Bel and Nebo) stoop; they bow down together; they cannot save the burden, but themselves go into captivity” (ESV).

God compares Himself to these false gods with these words, “Listen to me, O house of Jacob, all the remnant of the house of Israel, who have been borne by me from before your birth, carried from the womb; even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save”(Is. 46:3-4, ESV).

Instead of us having to carry our God on our shoulders, He carries us – even to when we have gray hair, or, no hair. One of the greatest tragedies of mankind is when we reverse roles with God and try to carry Him. He doesn’t need our help or want it. He has borne our sin (Is. 53) and He also bears our sorrows.

Now, that seems like some good truth to stumble over!

Creating Controversy

2010-08-22T16:53:00.001-06:00

Apparently, I am very good at creating controversy. I am not exactly sure why this is true. However, I seem to have a spiritual gift in this area.

In speaking about family devotions and the need to keep them interesting for our children, I once stated (in front of a congregation in Michigan), "After all, you can't use Daily Bread your whole life!" The next thing I heard was a collective gasp from about a thousand people - and laughter from a small group about halfway back in the center section. It seems that I had made my rather definitive statement about devotional material in front of the church the DeHaan family (think founders,writers and main movers behind the Daily Bread) attend.

For the record, the DeHaans were the only ones laughing.

Even when I am not trying to create controversy I do! Once, while singing some congregational hymns in a church where I was to speak, I found myself thinking about my sermon introduction rather than words in the hymnal. As a result, the final words of the second verse of Beneath the Cross of Jesus became, "... the wonders of my redeeming love and Your unworthiness." Fortunately, the guffaws of my long-suffering wife saved me from being burned at the stake.

I take comfort from the fact that Jesus was also very good at creating controversy. In fact, in certain situations He seemed to revel in it.

In Mark 2, Jesus calls His oldest disciple, Matthew, to follow Him. At the "I-am-retiring-from-tax-collecting" party held immediately afterwards, Jesus is seen eating, drinking and participating in the general shenanigans with Matthew's rather unsavory acquaintances. The New Living Translation describes the Pharisee's response this way, "But when the teachers of religious law who were Pharisees saw him eating with tax collectors and other sinners, they asked his disciples, “Why does he eat with such scum?”

Whoops! That kind of language could get the Pharisees' radio program cancelled.

In the very next passage Jesus, once again, pokes His thumb in the Pharisees' eyes.

".. when John’s disciples and the Pharisees were fasting, some people came to Jesus and asked, “Why don’t your disciples fast like John’s disciples and the Pharisees do?” Jesus replied, “Do wedding guests fast while celebrating with the groom? Of course not. They can’t fast while the groom is with them. But someday the groom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast." (Mark 2:18-19, NLT)

The Pharisees had made a full-contact, national sport out of fasting. Although there were only limited requirements for fasting in the Old Testament Law, the Pharisees had extended the "fasting season" to be almost as long as that of the National Hockey League - which as far as I can tell lasts from August to June. There can be no doubt about it, the Pharisees loved to fast and, more importantly, loved to be seen fasting.

Jesus' responded to the Pharisees' concerns by declaring that His presence was enough. Fasting was not going to add anything to His disciples' experience while He was with them. He went even further to take a jab at the worn, religious system the Pharisees had developed (vv. 21,22). In other words, Jesus could have played it safe, but he used the situation to create even more, purposeful controversy.

I wish I could say that the controversy I have created in life had a purpose - some long-term value. However, most of it occurred because of my own social ineptitude and tendency to say whatever goes through my mind. Jesus used controversy to shock people out of their dusty religious systems so they could actually think about the claims of the Kingdom. Whether it dealt with the nature of His disciples, the purpose of fasting, or, how to use the Sabbath, Jesus wanted those around Him to understand the offer He was extending to them. Sometimes, no, many times, He created tension in people's minds so they could process that message in a new light.

In reading over the above words I realize that I may have inadvertently insulted Christians in Michigan, talk-show radio listeners and Hockey fans. I take it all back. Well, at least any offense given to my friends in the great state of Michigan. Although, the thought comes to mind that winter there lasts almost as long as the NHL season...

Spaghetti Thoughts

2010-07-12T09:30:00.001-06:00

When it came to issues related to Christians and discernment regarding entertainment choices, my grandparents maintained a straight-forward, consistent position - they were against it. That is, they were against entertainment, not discernment.

They maintained a basic prohibition against modern forms of entertainment like movies, most television and, even, fictional literature. Naturally, they were opposed to jazz music. I know this because my grandmother once placed a book in my room providing an apologetic of a ban on all genres of that unique, American music form. They stood staunchly against the evils of reading newspapers on Sunday and, even, "playing catch" on the Lord's Day.

In comparison, my own parents were liberal in their attitudes toward personal entertainment choices. We bought a green and white television when the technology was still new in the Midwest. Seriously, it wasn't "black and white." It really was a phosphorescent green and grayish white. Watching it made me believe that everyone on television was nauseated - perhaps providing some basis for my grandparents general prohibition of that medium.

When possible, my parents also exposed me to live music. Gospel quartets were a favorite. Singing cowboys were certainly justification for "taking a drive." I even had the privilege of seeing (on more than one occasion) the famous, Palermo Brothers.

Phil and Louis Palermo were musical evangelists who began their ministries in 1938 with the Chicago Midnight Brigade and, later, Youth for Christ from 1947 until 1982. They ministered in the United States and other parts of the world. Just two years after the end of World War II the Palermos visited war-torn Italy holding evangelistic meetings and rallies.

One of the unique features of going to the hear the Palermo Brothers sing was that you were usually served a complete spaghetti dinner. Now, that is entertainment that mid-westerners can appreciate! Comparing notes recently, Su and I realized that we had probably both been at the same Palermo Brothers Dinner/Concert at First Baptist in Rochester, Minnesota when we were about 12 years old. I can only give thanks to God that she didn't see (or remember) what I did with those bread sticks - our romance could have died before it ever began.

There are more recipes for spaghetti sauce than I could possibly ever mention. Even Su has her special spaghetti sauce recipe - and to my knowledge she doesn't have an ounce (or milliliter) of Italian blood in her! I believe she modified her recipe from one she received from a lady named Fran Riegler... who probably got it from the Palermo Brothers, for all I know!

In one sense, it doesn't matter what is in the sauce. Unless you have the thin rods of pasta for which it is named, you do not have spaghetti. It has to have that ingredient to make it what it is.

I think the same thing is true of the church - it has to have the "main ingredient" to be true to what it is. Although many have begun to measure the entertainment value of Sunday morning (or Saturday evening), unless there is something of Jesus about the whole experience, it isn't church. If the primary message becomes something other than Him, it is not the real thing. All of this experience we call Christianity is not about prosperity, great sex or obedient kids. The primary message of the church is not stable finances, a great career or what kind of house to buy. To be the church it has to include Jesus.

I enjoy having different spaghetti sauces. However, I wouldn't think about them twice if they didn't include the basic element of pasta. I enjoy a lot of different types of church services. However, I don't want to waste my time if Jesus is not lifted up and preached there.

Our Father Which Art in Heaven

2010-06-26T15:55:00.002-06:00

Years ago I was invited to preach at an English-speaking church in La Paz, Bolivia. It is always challenging changing gears to English when most of my public speaking is done in Spanish. On this occasion I was asked to lead the church service which included a congregational recitation of what we commonly call The Lord's Prayer.

This forced me to confront one small problem - I couldn't remember The Lord's Prayer in English! In fact, as I sat on the podium during congregational singing, I couldn't even remember where it was located in Scripture! My guess is that I was experiencing the equivalent of pastoral "brain freeze."

Finally, with flop sweat forming on my brow, I remembered the beginning words, "Our Father which art in heaven..." Seriously, utilizing all of my mnemonic tricks, that was all that I could bring to mind.

It was with more than a small amount of trepidation that I approached the pulpit with these words running through my mind. My only hope was that the members of the congregation had more in common with Pavlov's dogs than most assumed. I remember looking out at the people and saying in the deepest voice I could muster, "Our Father..." My knees were weak with gratitude when they all began to bark, er, repeat with me, ".. which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come..."

This week I have been spending some time looking at Jesus' teaching on prayer - especially as it is recorded in Matthew 6:7-15.

Jesus makes a sharp contrast between pagan (and hypocritical) prayer and meaningful communication with our heavenly Father. In our various English translations, the word translated "vain repetitions," "empty phrases" or "to keep on babbling" (v.7) is the Greek word, battalogeo. As far as I know it does not occur anyplace else. No one seems to know what really means. However, it may be one of those onomatopoeic words - the sound of the word IS the meaning.

Basically what Jesus forbids is people praying without engaging their minds and their hearts. Many people go through the pretense of prayer because they think the more they say, the more likely it is to be heard. I have to wonder what kind of God we would have if He was primarily impressed by the numeric statistics of prayer.

The reason Christians should not pray like the pagans is that we believe in the living and true God. He is literally "our Father in heaven" (v.9). He is personal. He is powerful. He is the One who sees, hears and listens and He will respond (Exodus 3:7).

I could be wrong (Susan likes it when I at least say that), but it seems like Jesus' teaching includes six requests. The first three deal with God's glory - His name, His kingdom, His will. The last three with our needs - daily bread, forgiveness and delivering us from evil. These six requests still cover the reality of an authentic, Christian experience, even in the 21st Century.

One of my friends on Facebook defines her religious beliefs by simply writing, "as above, so below." As God's will is done in heaven, it is should be our desire that it is done - or, lived out or made reality - here on earth. Heaven broke into this world when Jesus was born. To pray "thy kingdom come" (v. 9,10) is to pray that the practical reality of this kingdom would be made evident through the church's witness as we submit to Him. Of course, it also looks forward to Jesus' return in glory.

I must admit that it can be pretty easy to simply repeat these words - just like the pagans. However, if I begin to sincerely pray them, my priorities are going to change. I am going to think less of my reputation and less of my personal agenda and begin to concentrate more on God's. Our ability to pray these words with any level of personal conviction could be a better measure of the reality of our Christian faith than anything else.

Among the early church writers there was a tendency to "allegorize" Christ's teaching on prayer. Apparently they thought it was not appropriate for us to pray for something so common as bread (v.11). I appreciate Martin Luther's "earthiness" here. Luther wrote that bread was representative of "everything necessary for the preservation of life, like food, a healthy body, good weather, house, home, wife, children, good government and peace." While that does not include a new iPhone it does include most of life's other necessities.

Marghanita Laski was a journalist, novelist and editor born in Manchester, England. In her later life she was a frequent contributor to the Oxford English Dictionary. She was also an atheist. During a television interview she stated, "What I envy most about you Christians is your forgiveness. I have no one to forgive me."

After preaching once in Houston (in the Texas variant of English), an elderly gentleman approached me and gave me one of the best compliments I have ever received. He looked me straight in the eye (the way Texas gentlemen do) and said, "You seem to be a man who knows he has been saved from something." I hope that is true. I hope my whole ministry is based on the reality of the forgiveness that has been extended to me. It seems to me that those people who have experienced real grace are the ones who can extend it to others.

"Father may Your kingdom be a reality in my life and the life of the Christian church. Father, may You forgive me of my regular failures that are really called sin. Father, help me to extend that same forgiveness to others as I continue to show the reality of Your grace."

With Friends Like These...

2010-06-05T21:40:00.001-06:00

I can't remember when I met some of my friends. Some people seem to have drifted into my life and stayed around to see how it was going to turn out. I can't remember meeting Joe. He was always part of my story. Gary claims to remember meeting me. However, since he also says I was involved in some rather dubious activity at the time we met, I choose to question his recollection of the events.

Of course, choosing to differ in my memories is not unheard of. Su and I have completely different stories of when and how we met. As usual, I prefer my own special reality!

During our recent trip to California and Nevada to perform the wedding of Juan Inglis and Suzanne (I called her Susan once during the ceremony!) Duncan, we had the privilege of catching up with several friends that we have met and treasured over the years.

I first met Jeff Woods in kindergarten. I remember this because he was the new kid in class and we walked home together. This was back when Eisenhower was president and you could actually walk home from kindergarten by yourself! In retrospect, it seems like a strangely innocent time.

Jeff says we became "frenemies" or "best enemies." I don't remember it that way. However, I do have memories of us doing almost everything little boys were supposed to do. We learned how to wrestle together with his brother Mark serving as the referee. I seem to remember that we had a "you can't bend the ear rule" which served us well. We also gave each other bloody noses boxing together. Apparently we were better at hitting each other than we were at protecting ourselves.

Jeff and Diane Woods now lead the Gospel Mission in Turlock, California. I had the privilege of going with Jeff last Sunday night as he directed the volunteers who served 43 guests at the homeless ministry. I sat at a table with John and Jennifer. John lost his oilfield job last year and, later, lost their house. Now, this couple with their three kids live in their truck. It was a privilege to see Jeff ministering to people like them.

I believe I met Nancy Mendez (then, Nancy Longenecker) my first day of college in Texas in 1973. It must have been the first day because a group of us still had time to play frisbee. She reminded me of the young lady I had left in Minnesota. When Su eventually came to visit me in Texas everyone mistook her for Nancy. They were incredibly similar. When we visited with Nancy and Al and their boys I couldn't help but notice that they still had a lot in common... in fact Nancy referred to Su as her doppelgänger. I felt like a passive observer in their conversations together.

Nancy and Al have been faithful in their walk and personal ministry. They are reaching out in their community in innovative ways - especially with their sons' friends. Nancy serves as the Assistant City Manager of one of those southern California cities where everyone used to dream of living before the state went belly-up. It is encouraging to see Christians involved at this level of public service.

Su and I first met David and Sarah Baird when they volunteered to come to Costa Rica and help us develop a master plan for the Multiplication Center. It is always a privilege for us to have friends get to know us in the context of our normal lives - well, maybe it would be better stated our "normal abnormal lives." As far as we know, David drew the only existent map of the village of San Isidro. He also helped us think through some key issues in the development of the property. That process continues to serve us today.

David accepted the position of director of UNLV School of Architecture last year. In a day and age when most public institutions are cutting their budgets as fast as they can, David has the "privilege" of leading in very troubled times - something that he is trying to do as a faithful disciple of Jesus.

Sometimes I must admit to getting discouraged with how Christians are impacting, or, seemingly, not impacting their communities. However, visiting with friends like Jeff and Diane, Al and Nancy, and David and Sarah encouraged me. Real Christians are still making a real difference. I am proud to have friends like them.

Six Weddings and a Funeral

2010-05-23T15:22:00.003-06:00

In preparation for a trip to California for the wedding of our co-worker, Suzie Duncan, an interesting topic of conversation came up. Su asked me if I had performed more funerals or weddings. To tell you the truth, I couldn't remember. There was a time in Bolivia when I probably did three funerals to every wedding. However, working with lots of young people in Costa Rica has meant performing many more weddings than funerals.

I believe there is a tendency to remember the sad funerals and the funny weddings. As perfect as many want their wedding day to be, most of the humorous things happen because of mistakes being made. For that reason alone I like to think that I have helped many young people begin their marriages with a smile on their face.

I remember one poor groom making desperate facial gestures to me toward the end of his wedding service. I had no idea what he was going on about, but, from my perspective, we were through. After presenting the couple for the first time in public (always an honor) and watching them walk down the aisle, Su asked me why I didn't have them kiss.

A few years ago, when I was back in Bolivia, this same man introduced me to his 20-something daughter by saying, "This is the missionary I have always told you about!" It would have been interesting to know what he had told her - interesting, but not really necessary.

More than once I have forgotten the names of the young couple standing before me. This is probably not as bad as forgetting the starting words of the Lord's Prayer - which I have also done - but it does create a moment of awkward tension.

Thinking of awkward moments, weddings have their share of those, and I am not responsible for all of them.

I once waited an hour and a half after the official start time for the bride to show up for her wedding. Really. The parents of the groom kept coming up to me and pleading for me to do something. Apparently there had been a hair-dressing debacle - far out of my realm of pastoral responsibility.

This happened another time when a bride experienced what could best be described as "a strategic undergarment failure." Since Su had already begun playing the prelude when this occurred, it may have been the longest wedding prelude on record! After using up all the wedding music she had, Su started playing through the hymnal. At one point she realized that she was playing "Poor Pilgrim."

The wedding of the daughter of the Brazilian Counsel in Bolivia to the son of conservative Baptist missionaries had its own moments. A half hour before the wedding was to begin the missionary approached me and asked if it was true he was going to have to dance at the reception with the counsel's wife. When I responded in the positive, he said, "Well, pastor, this means you have to teach me how to waltz." Since my own dancing skills have been generously characterized as "remedial level," I assure you this presented certain challenges.

Su and I once sat at a wedding reception table between the groom's committed socialist parents and the bride's career military parents. Fortunately, the socialists only spoke Spanish and the officer and his wife only spoke English. I believe this was the day I learned about the concept of "creative translation."

Of course, funerals can have their own share of awkward moments. At my first funeral in Bolivia I was told after already beginning the graveside ceremony that it was the pastor's responsibility to screw the lid down immediately before the committal. It became painfully obvious to everyone that I was a real novice as I did the best I could with a borrowed coin. I have never gone to a funeral in Latin America without a screwdriver since!

Without a doubt you need to pray for us and for Suzie's wedding this week!

Ballast in Our Belly

2010-04-03T18:36:00.000-06:00

He died. There is simply no getting around that terrible, wonderful fact of history.

In a very interesting little verse, Mark 15:43 tells us, "Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the Council, who was also himself looking for the kingdom of God, took courage and went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus." You get the idea this kind-of-almost, maybe disciple of Jesus literally took his courage in hand and went to see the Roman governor (who was surprised the Nazarene had died so quickly). With permission given, Joseph and his friend, Nicodemus, take the broken and most definitely dead body away to bury - probably in one of their own tombs.

There is no doubt about it. Jesus was dead. He didn't faint, and He certainly didn't fake it. He was simply and very tragically, stone-cold dead. The bigger question is how He ended up that way.

Throughout history, people have blamed various villains. The Jewish hierarchy has certainly come in for its share of blame - unfortunately, that judgment is often extended to the entire people group. Pilate doesn't get away unscathed. His paranoia certainly made the whole situation possible. Of course, Judas has gone down in history as a major player in what happened. There is something especially cruel about a disciple betraying his master with a kiss.

Still, there is something more to the story.

In Acts 4:26-28 we read, "The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers were gathered together, against the Lord and against his Anointed -- for truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place."

All the men mentioned above only did whatever God's hand and His plan had predestined to take place.

In other words, the death of Jesus did not catch God the Father unprepared. He wasn't surprised by what happened. Instead, He was in control of everything that occurred.

Jesus understood the prophecies. In Matthew 21:42 He quoted Psalm 118, "Have you never read in the Scriptures: 'The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes'"? Jesus repeated the words of Psalm 35:19 when He declared, "But the word that is written in their Law must be fulfilled: 'They hated me without a cause.'" In addition the Scriptures revealed that Jesus would be pierced, but none of His bones would be broken (Psalm 34:20, Zechariah 12:10).They also showed he would be betrayed by a close friend for thirty pieces of silver (Jeremiah 19:1-13; Zecharias 11:12,13).

Contrary to the words in one of the last songs in Jesus Christ Superstar, Jesus was not taken by surprise. He had been expecting this outcome all along.

Yes, tomorrow we have the hope of the resurrection. However, today we have the hope of His death. Not just the hope of our salvation (because of the price He paid), but also the hope that God is in control even when all the power of Satan seems to be at its greatest. Nothing gets past the Father. There are no "Whoops!" experiences with God. He is here and active, even when we feel like He is silent.

Christians need some "ballast in their belly" if they are going to make it through the waves that will crash against them during this life. Knowing God is there - even as the greatest injustice in history takes place - should be an encouragement to those of us trying to keep our heads above water.

Valentine's Day

2010-02-13T19:43:00.002-07:00

188 million Valentine's Day cards are exchanged annually, making Valentine's Day the second-most popular greeting-card-giving occasion. This total apparently excludes packaged kids' valentines for classroom exchanges – and a quick calculation tells me that I bought at least 180 of those during my grade school career.

Over 50 percent of all Valentine's Day cards are purchased in the six days prior to the observance, making Valentine's Day an absolute procrastinator's delight. Having personally engaged in prolific Valentine’s Day procrastination throughout my courtship and marriage to Su, I can understand this phenomena.

I can’t tell you why I procrastinate – only that I do.

How Valentine’s Day came about is a bit of a mystery. Historically, and in many cultures, February has often been a month associated with romance. If you came from the Midwest you would understand why this is true – it is too cold to do much of anything else. Personally I vote for laying most the blame (or credit) for the holiday at Hallmark’s feet.

A good question is “Who was this Saint Valentine and how did he single-handedly inspire so much commercial excess in the name of love?”

Interestingly enough, the Catholic Church recognizes at least three different saints named Valentine or Valentinus - all of whom were martyred for their faith or actions.

One church tradition says that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men — his recruiting pool. Valentine apparently had great sympathy for young lovers. He defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages in secret. When Valentine's actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.

There are a lot of famous couples who have come to symbolize love, or, at the very least, romanticism to us: Romeo and Juliet, John and Abigail Adams, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, and any number of current couples appearing in People magazine.

As for me, I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Harry and Bess Truman. Seriously.

President Truman first saw the love of his life in Sunday school when he was six and she was five. He described her as having “golden curls and beautiful blue eyes.” Even though they graduated from high school together in 1901, they didn’t become an item until nine years later.

Well, that’s not true. Actually, it was nine years later that Truman started to try and win Bess’ affection. Becoming an item would take several more years.

Because they lived twenty miles apart, most of the courtship was through letters. I have been told that more than 1300 letters from Harry to Bess Truman can be found in the Truman Library collections. For some reason we don’t have many from Bess to Harry.

After giving her signs of affection for more than a year, Harry proposed to Bess in 1911 – but, she turned him down.

When the United States entered World War I in April 1917, Harry Truman joined a Missouri National Guard field artillery regiment. Throughout his military service in France, Truman carried Bess Wallace's picture in his breast pocket. He wrote to her frequently and was encouraged when she finally promised to marry him when he returned at the end of the war.

I am pretty sure that to the end of his life Truman was prouder of being married to Bess than he was by being elected to the Senate or by becoming President of the United States. Some people would say he did a better job of being Bess’ husband than he did as President!

At this point in life, I am more impressed by couples like the Trumans who persist and maintain their love for each other than I am with the crush of young love. Scripture says, “Be happy with the wife you married when you were young.” (Prov. 5:18) The idea is we should continue to be happy with her even when neither of us are as young as we once were.

Henry Ward Beecher wrote, “Young love is a flame; very pretty, often very hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. The love of the older and disciplined heart is as coals, deep-burning, unquenchable.”

It is late and I still need to get something for Su. I have been looking around for some hot coals, but they seem to be in short supply in this tropical country. I may have to dazzle her with my research on the holiday… wish me luck.

Last Words

2010-01-24T12:27:00.001-07:00

Having the name “Woody” has never been easy in Latin America. When we first lived in La Paz, Bolivia, I tried to accommodate to linguistic realities and told people my name was Rolando. However, as Bolivians got to know me, several said, “That is not your name. We will call you Woody.” Unfortunately, as well-meaning as they were, they were wrong.

You see the “Woo” sound doesn’t exist in Spanish. Unless the Spanish speaker also has some English speaking practice, my name is invariably pronounced as Goody or Boody or some derivative.

I was once called to the death bed of a man whom I had had the privilege of discipling for several years. Don Miguel’s family indicated that I should put my ear by his mouth because he had something he wanted to say to me. As I strained to hear the breathy words, Don Miguel whispered, “Gracias, Judy,” and died.

Obviously, at this point it was a little late to correct his pronunciation.

It is probably evidence of my twisted personality, but “last words” have always fascinated me. You can tell a lot about how a person lived by their final comments in this world.

Joe Hill was executed by firing squad on November 19, 1915 in Utah. His last word was "Fire!" You can honestly disagree with the man’s politics and still respect that kind of fortitude.

Lou Costello’s (of Abbot and Costello fame) last words were, “"That was the best ice-cream soda I ever tasted." Now, that was a man who enjoyed the finer things in life.

In the perfect example of lack of preparation and procrastination, Francisco “Pancho” Villa reportedly said (in Spanish, of course), "Don't let it end like this. Tell them I said something."

Of course, the last words of faithful Christians are of special interest to me.

The converted slave trader, John Newton, who became a beloved minister of the gospel and regular sermon illustration, whispered as he lay dying, “My memory is nearly gone, but I remember two things, that I am a great sinner and that Christ is a great Savior.”

He may have only remembered two things, but they were the right things.

There was a little remembered attempt by seven Anglican missionaries to evangelize the Tehuelche and Yaghan people groups in southern Argentina in 1848. Unfortunately, all seven died of starvation. Allen Francis Gardiner was one of the last survivors. His final diary entry read, “Great and marvelous are the loving kindnesses of my gracious God.”

A missionary dying of starvation and thanking God for his loving kindness. I wish I had known that man.

Almost the last thing F. B. Meyer, Baptist preacher and friend of D. L. Moody, did in life was send a postcard in a shaky hand to Lindsay Glegg with the words, “I have raced you to heaven. I am just off—see you there. Love, F. B. Meyer.”

When Meyer asked his doctor how much longer he had to live. The doctor replied (and this proved he was a Brit doctor), “Just a few more hours, say till four o’clock.” Dr. Meyer went to sleep and woke later in the afternoon. His first question was, “What is the time, nurse?” “Six o’clock,” she replied. “Tut, tut,” said Meyer, “this will never do. I ought to have gone two hours ago.”

When the brilliant scientist Michael Faraday was dying, someone asked him, “Sir, what are your speculations now?” Faraday replied, “Speculation? I have none, thank God. I am not resting my dying soul on guess-work, but on the finished work of Christ. “I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed to Him against that Day”

Of course those words are taken from the Apostle Paul’s last words, or, at least his last letter – 2 Timothy 1:12. He might have written them days before he was beheaded in Rome. They were not only some of his final words; the confidence expressed in them was all he had left in life.

If given the opportunity, I hope that my own final words will have something of humor while displaying great confidence. Having been told many times that I am not a good patient, I hope they demonstrate grace to those around me. More than anything, when everything else in this earthly body has been used up, I hope that all that remains is the finished work of Jesus.

And oh, I also hope I don’t mispronounce anybody’s name!

Swallowing the Egg

2010-01-10T18:40:00.000-07:00

I have always enjoyed the account of Elijah on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18). When Su and I visited Israel, it was a special privilege to walk around at the top and imagine events as the prophet of God faced off against the 450 prophets of Baal and the 400 prophets of Asherah. The story has everything you could ask for: drama, humor and, in the end, God wins. It is better than a movie - certainly better than the one we started to watch yesterday!

Still, Elijah had to go through Chapter 17 before he could get to Chapter 18. He had to go through the proving ground for his faith before he could experience the victory on the mountain.

God told Elijah exactly where to go and what to do (1 Kings 17:2-7). He allowed Elijah to drink from the brook and He sent the ravens to provide bread and meat for him every day. However, the time eventually came when the brook dried up and Elijah had to move on. Did this mean that Elijah had sinned or had done something wrong? No. It only meant that God had another place for him. It was a reminder to Elijah to trust God and not the brook or the ravens.

God's Word will always lead God's people in a time of testing. However, this word must have seemed a bit strange to Elijah. “Go to Zarephath (Gentile territory) where I have commanded a widow to feed you.” “Zarephath” means “refining” or "smelting." God was certainly putting Elijah through the furnace.

Can you imagine Elijah’s feelings when he discovered how poor the widow was and that she was about to prepare her last meal? I can. I once stayed with a family in a communist country who were so poor they only had one egg. On the day of my departure the wife fried the egg for me and the whole family watched while I ate it. I have eaten many strange foods under difficult circumstances - I have never eaten anything that was as hard to swallow as that egg.

In my experience, you can count on times of testing to follow hard on the heels of times of blessing. After being fed at the brook and seeing the jar of flour and the jug of oil being replenished, Elijah still had to deal with the harsh reality of the death of the widow's son. I can only imagine that Elijah had become rather fond of the boy. He must have seen the widow's grief while experiencing his own. When he takes the corpse up to his upper room you can hear some of his anguish when he prays, "O LORD my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I sojourn, by killing her son?" (1 Kings 17:20)

It says that Elijah prayed three times for the boy before God brought him back to life (the first resurrection in the Bible). It must have been hard to pray the third time. God didn't answer the first time. He didn't answer the second time. Why pray again? Still, it was only after persistent prayer that God chose to answer.

One of the things that impresses me with Elijah in Chapter 18 is his confidence in God. The pagan prophets are dancing around, cutting themselves and otherwise proving by their public displays of emotion that they were not Minnesotans. Elijah says, "God, do what you are going to do."

That kind of confidence only comes out of times of testing, obedience and seeing the truth of God's Word. Probably a good reminder for all of us as we begin another year of ministry.

Grace Glides On Blistered Feet

2010-01-02T18:55:00.001-07:00

At the beginning of a new decade (and having listened to several "informed" opinions about our prospects for 2010) I must admit that I have evolved into a pessimistic optimist. In fact, I have become such a pessimistic optimist that I would be tempted to call myself an optimistic pessimist if it were not for remembering the words of President Harry Truman. He once said, "A pessimist is one who makes difficulties of his opportunities and an optimist is one who makes opportunities of his difficulties." In the end, while recognizing there will be some real challenges in the coming year, I would rather not make difficulties of the opportunities that God opens before us.

Of course, we need both optimists and pessimists. The Wright brothers had to be some type of optimists to think their plane could fly, but Gleb Kotelnikov proved himself to be a bit of a pessimist when he invented the modern backpack-style parachute. My guess is that most of today's fighter pilots are thankful for both the Wrights and Mr. Kotelnikov.

In regards to health, I believe that God still heals our physical maladies. At the same time, I am convinced that I will go to my own death as bald as my Grandpa Roland. I believe that God desires to bless us as His people. However, His blessings are rarely defined by our standards.

In 2 Chronicles 16:9 Hanani stated, "For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to give strong support to those whose heart is blameless toward him." Hanani believed that (and it remains true), but King Asa still put him in prison for saying it. The Lord delights in giving support to those who follow after Him - but sometimes the strength or support He gives are found in challenging circumstances.

In Psalm 35:27 David wrote, "Let those who delight in my righteousness shout for joy and be glad and say evermore, ‘Great is the LORD, who delights in the welfare of his servant!’” (ESV) With no apparent doubt, David could say, "God is glad when all goes well for his servant." However, in the context of the whole Psalm, we can see that David was dealing with the deep betrayal of someone for whom he cared very much.

There is no getting around the fact that part of our faith experience as Christians is believing that God enjoys blessing His people. It is part of the very "who He is." John Piper wrote, "God's omnipotent exuberance to do us good is one of the most freeing discoveries a human can make." I believe that - and also enjoy saying the phrase "omnipotent exuberance" out loud. I also believe the truth of Psalm 23:6, "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me [or, literally “pursue me"] all the days of my life" - even when that goodness and mercy must follow me into "the valley of the shadow of death."

A pessimist sees a step forward and a step backward as lost time. An optimist sees it as the beginning of a dance. At the beginning of a new decade we would do well to remember that "[in] life as in dance: Grace glides on blistered feet.” (Alice Abrams)

Foreigners and Strangers

2009-12-14T09:25:00.003-07:00

During the last 31 years, Su and I have lived most of our lives as foreigners.

I am especially aware of this fact every time I go through an immigration check point in a country I am visiting. In this post-9/11 world I understand that any immigration agent (often young soldiers or policemen with little experience or training) can reject me for any reason, or, no reason. I must submit my passport and wait humbly for them to approve my entry. It doesn't matter who I am; what I have studied; or, what I have accomplished in life – I have no legal rights at this moment. They make the choice about whether I can enter their country, or not.

Interestingly enough, I once was refused admittance into the one country where I am a citizen. When an immigration official looked at my well-worn passport in Miami, she told me I would have to "continue my interview in a secure environment." Apparently I have lived so long away and been to so many places that I no longer have an immediate right to enter the country of my birth.

With that in mind, I was impressed by a poem I read this week by Raymond Foss, a lawyer/poet who began to write poetry during boring school board meetings. In a piece entitled “Living in the Foreign Land” he wrote:

More than making the most
the best of a bad situation
No this was more than that
This was a letter from the prophet
proclaiming the will, the judgment,
the word of God for the forgetful
the unfaithful children
sent to that foreign lands
subservient to another empire
used by God, instruments for training
A hard lesson, meted out in God’s time
Living in the foreign land
where God sent them
to live, planted, grounded
as citizens of that foreign land
residents, loyal to
their home, faithful
to their God

“Loyal to their home, faithful to their God.” That seems like a good description of a number of missionaries that I have known.

In Ephesians 2:19, Paul wrote, “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints.”

Strangers and foreigners are both mentioned here, and, if you will have a little patience with me, there’s a gem of truth in understanding both of them. While synonymous, there is a real distinction.

Strangers is the translation of "xenos" which referred to a foreigner who did not belong to the community. It was also used describe a wanderer or a refugee. To the Greeks, a "zenos" was the same thing as a barbarian. This is where we get our English word xenophobia—a fear and hatred of strangers or foreigners.

Once, while in Central Asia, a group of about twenty children began to throw rocks at me while they screamed “kafir”, or, “unbeliever.” I have had a strange sensitivity to any hint of xenophobia since that experience.

Foreigner is the Greek "paroikos." This word described a foreigner who lived beside the people of a country or someone who was a neighbor and enjoyed the protection of the community. He was a “resident alien,” a licensed sojourner, someone who might have paid an “alien tax” to live in the area without being naturalized.

So, Paul was telling the Ephesians they were no longer passing strangers or licensed immigrants. Rather, he calls them fellow citizens. If a Roman citizen had great privileges during the time when the letter to the Ephesians was written, the believer’s must have had even more rights as citizens of Christ’s kingdom!

Hebrews 11:13 gives us another twist on this same subject. “These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth."

Peter used this same term in his first epistle as he wrote “to the strangers scattered throughout Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia" (1 Peter 1:1). In 1 Peter 2:11 he encourages his readers “as strangers and pilgrims” to “abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul.” Now, that should be both a challenge and an encouragement. The reason we sometimes feel different is that we are. Now, we need to act that way.

Vance Havener, used to say: “We are not citizens of this world trying to get to heaven; rather, we are citizens of heaven just trying to get through this world.”

Now I understand why I feel different! Now I understand why I have to BE different. Recognizing that you will never fit in gives you a certain amount of freedom.

In a song entitled, “The Foreigner Suite”, Cat Stevens (before he was Yusuf Islam, but after he was Steven Demetre Georgiou and Steve Adams), sang:

“Man must fight for freedom sure that's what most other people would say
Look for a body to lead them but there's too many to lead them away
Why wait until it's your time to die before you learn what you were meant to do?
Come on it's freedom calling but there's only one freedom for you”

Sometimes being a foreigner gives you an incredible freedom.

Thanksgiving in a Time a Plague

2009-11-26T20:16:00.004-07:00

It is probably unusual to equate suffering and thanksgiving. However, for several reasons, it is a theme that is working through my mind today.

This could be the result of a conversation I had yesterday with Leo, a young Costa Rican industrial engineer. Leo and I were sharing some personal prayer requests. He told me this had been a hard year. His girlfriend of several years dumped him after he lost the lower part of his left leg in a motorcycle accident in April. Since then, he has been through several surgeries and skin grafts. In the epitome of understatement, Leo said, "This hasn't been my best year ever."

On the other hand, my thoughts about suffering and thanksgiving might have to do with a new diagnosis Su received on Tuesday. This time, after an especially difficult exam, the physician told us that he is quite certain Su has "interstitial cystitis."

I hate it when I find myself nodding my head like I know what something means but then have to go home to look it up on the Internet. As far as I am concerned, eighth grade health class did not prepare me for real life.

The "long and the short" of interstitial cystitis is that it is a chronic condition that affects an estimated 1 million Americans. While it can affect children and men, most of those affected are women. As the Mayo Clinic website states in another example of understatement, "Interstitial cystitis can have a long-lasting adverse impact on your quality of life."

On yet the other hand, my thoughts may have something to do with reading some prose by John Donne, the 17th Century British poet during my devotional time.

Born in England in 1571, John Donne spent his youth in basic rebelliousness and sin. He developed his writing abilities while penning witty, erotic poems. When he finally came to Christ he saw himself as "the prodigal saved only by grace."

Through a middle age marked by increasing devotion to Christ - but also by poverty and discouragement - he turned his evident poetic skill to the great themes of love, death, and God's mercy. In 1615 he became an ordained Anglican priest and for several years poured his creative energies into sermons rather than poetry.

During a near-fatal illness in the year 1623, Donne turned again to poetry, completing his most famous volume, The Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions. Each day, the bedridden clergyman heard from his window the church bells of London announcing that the Black Plague had taken more victims. Donne was convinced he, too, had the plague and would soon die (His famous phrase, the person "for whom the bell tolled" was self-descriptive).

Some of the prose that he wrote during this time included:

"I see your hand upon me now, O Lord, and I ask not why it comes or what it intends.
Whether you will bid my soul to stay in this body for some time, or meet you this day in

paradise, I ask not.
Curiosity of mind tempts me to know, but my true healing lies in silent and absolute obedience

to your will, even before I know it.
Preserve that obedience, O my God, and that will preserve me to you; that, when you have

catechized me with affliction here, I may take a greater degree, and serve you in a higher place,

in your kingdom of joy and glory. Amen." (As paraphrased by Philip Yancey)

"When you have catechized me with affliction, I may... serve you in a higher place." Brave words and a courageous attitude from a man going through challenging life experiences.

By the way, Leo ended his conversation with me by telling me, "In many ways I am thankful for the events of this year... because I have grown so much in my relationship with God." He wasn't just saying that to impress me. It was obvious to me that he really did have a spirit of thanksgiving about him.

Su and I were incredibly thankful for some words from Scripture this morning. Hebrews 4:15 says, "For we have not a high priest not able to sympathize with our infirmities.." (Darby Version) Most modern translations read "weaknesses" instead of infirmities. However, the Greek word "astheneia" is most often translated as "frailty or feebleness of health or sickness."

We are thankful for a God who really knows and cares and understands... even if we sometimes do not. Even in our hard years we can know that He is faithful.

John Donne did not die until he was 59 or 60. However, through the realities he went through, he learned how to give thanks - even during a time of plague.

In a paraphrase of his original lines, Donne wrote,

"Nature reaches out her hand and offers corn, and wine, and oil, and milk;
But it was you who filled the hand of nature with such bounty.
Industry reaches out her hand and gives us fruits of labor for ourselves and our prosperity;
But you guided the hands that sowed and watered, and you gave the increase.
Friends reach out their hands to support us;
But your hand supports the hand we lean on."

Your hand supports the hand we lean on - even in challenging years like Leo's; even in sickness; and, even in times of plague. That is something for which we can be thankful.

Guilty Pleasures

2009-10-25T14:39:00.001-06:00

It occurred to me during my recent trip to Peru that it is time to admit to some guilty pleasures. This rather obtuse thought may have been provoked by how much I enjoyed being back in the Andes. However, it could also be that 16 hours on a bus (no matter how beautiful the scenery) brings out some socially indefensible behavior in my personality.

A guilty pleasure is something one considers pleasurable despite feeling guilty for enjoying it. Often, the "guilt" involved is simply fear of others discovering one's rather lowbrow tastes, rather than actual moral guilt. The kind of clothing we enjoy, music, and food (especially foods we know are unhealthy) can be examples of guilty pleasures.

Between Su and me, we have several guilty pleasures.

We enjoy and even relish eating Blue Bell Ice Cream. Now, if you are one of our readers who lives “up North” and has not spent significant time in the Southland during the past 35 years, you do not know “that of which I speak.” However, for those of you in Texas, Louisiana or Arkansas, you know that a man my age has no rational defense for imbibing in this particular pleasure. Just for the record, a half cup of Blue Bell “Tin Roof” has 190 calories, 10 grams of fat and 22 grams of carbs.

I am salivating just thinking about the next time I can have a bowl… and not feeling nearly as guilty as I should.

I am not sure if Su’s fondness for cotton candy can be truly defined as a guilty pleasure. You see, she has no shame in eating it or being seen eating it in public. On the other hand, I feel an almost immediate need to wash my hands and brush my teeth when she buys some – and I do not even touch the stuff!

I have one particular guilty pleasure related to what I listen to on my long trips.

For reasons that I cannot fully explain, I enjoy listening to J. Vernon McGee. Dr. McGee’s five year “Bible Bus Trip” continues to make me smile 21 years after he took that bus “up yonder.” Some of you are grimacing just thinking about listening to some of his rather unusual verbal mannerisms. Believe me, I understand. I guess that is why actually downloading him on to my iPod is a guilty pleasure.

Thinking of trips, I enjoy reading rather low-brow detective and spy novels. On this recent trip I read one about a CIA operative basically forgotten by the agency after infiltrating some radical groups in Afghanistan. I think you get the general gist and the reason this could only be classified as a guilty pleasure.

If making people listen to something can be a guilty pleasure, I confess to deriving great joy from playing saxophone and harmonica duets with Su. I am not positive, but we may be the only people in the world that play this particular combination of musical instruments. I have never been sure if the look on people’s faces when they hear us is that of mild interest or some type of catatonic defense mechanism.

One of my greatest guilty pleasures is having a day off with Su to read, talk, eat and read some more. Yes, although some of you feel I do not partake in this particular guilty pleasure enough, I do enjoy it immensely.

As I thought about some of these guilty pleasures it also occurred to me that Christians do not do well with pleasure. We tend to have two responses to it. First, we think it is our “God-given right” and therefore we are protected when we over do it. Unfortunately, consuming too much Blue Bell tends to hang around in all the wrong places. Second, we doubt that we deserve it and look on it with either disdain or suspicion. Amazingly enough, there are times we attempt to “out holy” God as we reject His divinely given gifts.

In Genesis 18:12 we read, “So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I am worn out, and my lord is old, shall I have pleasure?” (ESV). Of course, the answer was “yes” because nothing is too hard for God.

Falling Down

2009-09-27T19:53:00.000-06:00

I fell down the other day. I mean I REALLY fell down. The kind of “fall-right-on-your-face-in-public-falling-down” that you cannot dissimulate no matter how hard you try.

I was on the way to the airport to pick up one of my co-workers when I decided to stop at a store and pick up a Diet Coke. I stepped out of the car and took two steps when I suddenly found myself falling in the general direction of concrete and tarmac. It seems that I had put my foot on a piece of rebar in the dark which had sliced into my shoe. When I tried to take a step forward I ended up tripping and falling onto the top of a cement retaining wall - with my chest taking most of the damage in the collision.

A store employee and security guard came running up to help me. It was obvious from their expressions and words they thought they had just witnessed a spectacular senior moment. I hate it when younger people treat me like I am old enough to be a member of the AARP.

Hold on a sec – I AM old enough to be a member of AARP! However, I still hate it when they treat me like I am.

It is not the first time that I have managed to impress people with my ability to fall down this year. Back in March I fell face to the floor in front of several IT missionaries when I misjudged the number of steps through my bifocals. Nothing like a disastrous fall to humble you in front of your co-workers. Nothing like kissing the floor hard to make you wish you didn’t have to wear bifocals.

Mary Pickford, the star of silent movies, said, “Supposing you have tried and failed again and again. You may have a fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing that we call “Failure” is not the falling down, but the staying down.”

Comforting words for someone like myself who is apparently making a second career out of spectacular public pratfalls.

I find some level of encouragement in the fact that we all fall down. We all fail. That is one of the greatest truths of Christianity – we have all fallen very far from where we were meant to be, but He has helped us stand up once again. A God of mercy has reached down to rescue participants in His fallen creation.

Ironically, according to the Scriptures one of the best responses we can have to grace like that is to fall down (once again) in worship before Him (Rev. 4:10). Apparently it is easier to fall than stand in front of such a great and holy God. I look forward to that moment of falling down, don’t you?

Living With Caricatures

2009-09-13T14:42:00.000-06:00

Once a year, I draw a caricature of Susan and myself for our Christmas newsletter. My daughters are happy that I no longer include them in this rather embarrassing family tradition. Drawing myself is easy. Basically, all I have to do is create a classic light bulb shape, paste on a pair of big ears, add some round glasses and ink in my beard.

For some reason, I can also do a decent caricature of my friend, Jack Faulkner. Oh, that's right! He is bald, wears little glasses and has a beard.

Drawing Su is a bit more difficult. Because it is a caricature, I need to make the drawing humorous. Because she is my wife, I need to make it, well - pretty. In searching for the balance between funny and flattery, I usually default to a harmonious December over the quick laugh. My normal technique is to spend a few hours getting Su's drawing "just right" and then penciling in my self-descriptive light bulb in a matter of minutes.

The term "caricature" originally came from Italian and meant to charge or load. So, the English word basically means "a loaded drawing." The easiest way to make a caricature is to exaggerate some of the natural characteristics of the subject. My bald head and big ears make things easy. As I grow older my bushy eyebrows add another "B" feature to simplify my task. Of course, another area you can exaggerate in the drawing deals with vanities - choice of hair style, glasses, clothing or little mannerisms. That is one reason why computerized caricatures lack humor. The drawing program has a hard time picking up on that certain something that makes us who we are.

It occurred to me this week that one of our cardinal sins as humans is the caricaturization of those we do not understand. We would prefer to confront the cartoon in our mind rather than the real person who lives in time and space.

People who are politically conservative tend to create caricatures of those who lean towards the left. Liberals become unpatriotic idiots rather than well-meaning citizens with a profoundly different social philosophy.

On the other hand, people on the left tend to draw social conservatives as unfeeling or uncharitable brutes. My sister (who I will not identify here except to say that her initials are Janet Thune) is vocal in her conservative beliefs. However, I have probably never met a more charitable individual in all my travels. In fact, when Evangelicals finally identify a list of saints, she and her husband may well be first on the list.

Christians are invariably presented in caricature form by popular media.
Truth be told, we seem to provide a great deal of ammo to those who would make jest of us. Every time another pastor or Christian politician jumps into a moral quagmire with both feet, it makes it pretty easy for our secular friends to poke fun at our family values. Every time we make growth and numbers in our churches more important than being faithful followers of Jesus, it becomes easier for people in the media to perceive us as shysters and hucksters rather than serious disciples.

It shouldn't surprise us that people present a caricature of Christians. After all, they have done the same thing with Jesus for centuries. In popular culture He has become a rather effeminate individual walking around a dusty Roman province like He just had His nails done. Somehow, the robust Jewish rabbi who "spoke as one having authority" is lost in the caricatures of contemporary media.

We haven't done much better in popular Christianity. It seems to me that we have reduced Jesus from being Savior, Master and King to a nice guy providing very practical self-help advice. "Come and die" has been replaced with "follow me and feel good."

I enjoy drawing my annual caricature. It is a chance for me to be a bit creative. However, I do not carry a drawing of Su in my wallet. Instead, I like to have a photo that reminds me of the real her.

Hopefully, I am brave enough to continue to search for the Jesus revealed in Scripture rather than contenting myself with the contemporary caricature. The real Jesus may be wilder than, and not quite as domesticated as, the cartoon character, but He is still the One I want to follow.

Not Yet!

2009-09-07T16:31:00.001-06:00

My father recently had an appointment with a hematologist. Because of the high census of patients, the physician had returned from retirement to help out at the clinic. In an attempt to make conversation, the doctor asked Morgan if he had lived his whole life in Rochester. Dad responded, "Not yet."

Not quite.

When I was younger my parents frequently "went visiting." This sounds like a wonderful (probably quaint) way for a family to spend a Sunday afternoon. However, in a region where my relatives represented a significant voting block, it sometimes seemed like there was no end to our trips. Until I developed sufficient adolescent sullenness to resist their entreaties, it was expected that I would accompany my parents on their "drives." Like backseat passengers throughout the world, I often asked, "Are we there yet?" Invariably, the answer was, "Not quite, just a little bit more."

Just a while longer.

The Bible is filled with the message of "not yet- just a while longer."

The disciples thought the Kingdom had come and maybe it had - in a marvelous, confusing way the religious people of the day never expected. Still, when they were left on that hilltop east of Jerusalem looking up into the clouds, the angels seemed to say, "It is still coming. It is still a ways off."

In his letter to the Romans, Paul states, "... we hope for something we have not yet seen, and we patiently wait for it." (Romans 8:25, CEV) In a chapter otherwise filled with great confidence, even Paul realizes there is still something more to come. We haven't experienced everything yet. There is still something just over the horizon we have yet to see.

Paul applied this "not yet" message to his personal spiritual experience. He wrote, "I have not yet reached my goal... But Christ has taken hold of me. So I keep on running and struggling to take hold of the prize." (Philippians 3:12, CEV) I am His, but I still have a ways to go.

Of course the same thing can be said for each one of us. In his first letter the Apostle John wrote, "... we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is." (1 John 3:2, ESV)

I imagine the disciples occasionally grew tired of waiting for the "soon return" of their Savior. It would have been natural for Paul to wonder if God didn't move that prize from time to time. All of us live with that "almost-but-not-quite" as part of our spiritual experience.

Of course, in the end, this is what faith really comes down to - living in that land where we can see the cookie jar, but it remains just out of reach.

Hey, Hey Paula!

2009-08-12T20:26:00.004-06:00

Last week, our friend Paula Lithander passed into the Lord's presence after a battle with cancer. I wrote the following for her family, but thought many of you might like to read it, as well.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

On October 6, 1962, Ray Hildebrand and Jill Jackson, two college students from Howard Payne College recorded a song in the basement studio of a local radio station in Fort Worth. A few months later, "Hey, Paula" was at the top of the charts in the U.S., Europe and Japan.

The way Paula Lithander sometimes grimaced when people sang that song made me think that she often wished Ray and Jill had stayed out of the studio! Still, one of the lines from the third verse came to mind as I thought of her during the past weeks. "True love means waiting and hoping that soon wishes we made will come true..." All of us are now going to be waiting and wishing for that day when we can be reunited with Paula.

Kirk and Paula (along with Debbie) came to work with us in La Paz, Bolivia, in the mid-eighties. Paula felt that she had been called in a very special way to minister in that Andean country. She might have felt called, but she probably was not prepared for all that she would encounter there.

A few experiences come to my mind from those early days in Bolivia.

I don't think Paula was prepared for the influence I would have on her husband. Kirk had been a solid, conservative Christian until he began to work with me. I am afraid that some of my "social heresies" shared during late night conversations may have created some tension for the new missionary couple when Kirk returned home. At the very least, she was fond of saying, "He was never like this until he met you!"

I still wonder what she meant by that statement.

I know that Paula probably had a hard time trusting my judgment regarding civil situations after going to a restaurant on Plaza Abaroa with Kirk, Susan and me early on in their time in Bolivia. While we ate some of the wonderful steaks the restaurant was known for, we all heard and felt an explosion. When I went to the restaurant door to look out, I could see smoke rising from the U.S. Ambassador's residence across the plaza. Now, from my perspective neither explosion, smoke nor civil chaos seemed worthy of interrupting a good meal. After closing and securing the door, I returned to the table. When Paula asked what had happened, I responded, "Not much" and continued to eat. When she found out the truth about that evening’s events, she was not a happy camper.

Thinking of eating, I will always remember Paula as an excellent and generous cook. She knew how to prepare wonderful food and how to open her table and home to others. In an age of fast food and faster lives, Paula knew the value of hospitality and of creating a sense of Christian community.

However, she did have some culinary mishaps in Bolivia. After all, cooking at 12,500 feet above sea level was not normal for a girl from Warrenville, Illinois. I will always remember the pressure cooker that became "clogged" while cooking some beans. When it blew, Kirk and Paula thought the stove’s gas tank had exploded. I don't think they ever managed to clean all the beans off the walls before they moved from that apartment!

Some of my favorite times with Paula involved singing. We sang together in our homes; we sang in our church; we sang in special presentations; and, we sang at funerals. I will never forget when Paula and I provided the music at a very “special” funeral. When his mother-in-law died, an acquaintance decided he would bury his mother-in-law's ashes in the driveway. He explained that he wanted to bury her there because she had always loved her house. I couldn't help but notice that he seemed to smile a bit too much when I pointed out that he would have to drive over "her" each day. Needless to say, both Paula and I found the burial site to be odd. While we sang a duet based on Psalm 91:1 ("He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty."), we looked each other in the eyes and began to giggle. Finally, Paula had to cover over our social faux pas by "coughing our way out of it."

When you serve together in a country like Bolivia you either become dear friends or tense co-workers. Kirk and Paula became dear friends. I am especially thankful for Paula's many personal acts of kindness. In the midst of a hectic season of ministry, Susan and I managed to carve out one night to get away to a hotel for our anniversary. The only problem was what we would do with our youngest daughter who was still nursing. Paula immediately understood the situation and offered to take care of her and bring her to Susan at the critical times. We didn't have to ask... Paula offered.

I remember Paula holding on to her own daughter during a special trip that we made with several other missionaries to a snow-capped mountain above La Paz. Several of us went up a steep slope to do some extreme sledding on plastic tarps. On my trip down, I developed a bit too much speed and found myself in mid-air shooting past the campsite. Paula looked at me with wide eyes as she tried to protect Debbie with her body. Both she and Debbie ended up in better shape than I did!

Somehow it seems appropriate to end these thoughts with a song since I began with one. Soon after Paula's home-going, I was listening to some music as I drove through the Central Valley in Costa Rica when a song came on my iPod with these words: "Her life wasn't easy, how hard she tried. You know she's an angle, Lord, so let her fly." I have to admit that while I might not agree with the doctrine of the song, I was moved to tears by the sentiment.

Hey, Paula, all the pain is over. Now you get to sing with a real choir! Let her fly, let her fly.

Sawing Up Uncle Charlie

2009-08-02T07:16:00.002-06:00

My father is fond of saying that Uncle Charlie was never the same after they sawed him up.

The "they" in this statement refers to my Grandpa Joe and my father, Morgan. "Uncle Charlie" was some type of relative. In my family, one learned early in life not to ask how certain uncles or cousins were actually related. Questions like that led to long explanations that children below the age of sixteen had neither the patience nor the intellectual ability to understand.

During The Great Depression Morgan and Joe were rip-sawing logs with Uncle Charlie in the woods on the western side of Grandpa's farm. They had set up the saw using a belt coming off the tractor which rotated a large, round saw blade. In the course of their work, Uncle Charlie's flannel shirt got caught between the belt and the axle of the saw, and he was flipped around violently.

My grandfather and father did what they could. They loaded Uncle Charlie's broken body into the back of the car and drove the 16 miles into Rochester, Minnesota, where the hospital had one of those fancy new x-ray machines. Looking at the broken old man lying before them, the doctors decided to x-ray his whole body.

When the film had been developed and analyzed, the doctors said, "Mr. Carlson, you have a bullet in your head!" Uncle Charlie responded, "Huh! Years ago I got shot in the head, but there was so much blood that I thought the bullet had gone clean through." Now, you just have to think there is something fishy behind that kind of statement.

Unfortunately, the state of medical expertise in the 1930's was such that it was impossible to remove the bullet. Uncle Charlie went to his grave with it still firmly lodged in his head.

Now, how that bullet came to be in Uncle Charlie's head is the source of several stories in our family. I am not sure any of them are true. The long and the short of it is that he either had bad luck in his choice of hunting partners or bad luck at cards. Either way, a man with a bullet in his head who gets sawed up by his nephew is not someone you invite to buy your next lottery ticket.

I thought of Uncle Charlie because of a conversation I had this week. As I remembered this old family story, a verse came to mind which we’d all do well to pay attention to. In Luke 12:2, Jesus said, "Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known."

A big crowd had gathered while Jesus condemned the Pharisees and Scribes. Any debate will draw a crowd. That is why people watch "talking heads" on CNN and FOX News. However, in this case I think that people were also drawn by Jesus' fearless denunciation of their hypocritical leaders. Turning to His disciples, Jesus warned, "Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy."

A hypocrite is someone that wears a mask - one whose outward appearance is different from the inner reality. The Pharisees acted like they had their moral and spiritual lives together, but they were really masters of deceit.

Jesus was saying in effect, "Someday they will all be revealed for who they are. Some day their secrets (like bullets in the brain) will be made known to everyone. There will be no hiding of the truth."

I talk a lot about the importance of being an authentic disciple of Jesus Christ. Like other missionaries, pastors, and Christian workers, I need to be aware that it is easy to allow my inner reality to become different from the public message. I need to be careful with that. I never know when the secrets in my head will become public information.

Investments That Count

2009-07-13T07:40:00.001-06:00

This week Susan and I made an investment. Well, at least according to Guillermo, the salesman, it was. I have noticed almost all good sales representatives think their particular product will be an investment of one type or another. My guess is that is what made Billy Mays such an iconic figure. He thought everything from "Mighty Putty" to, my personal favorite, "Big City Sliders"* would be a valuable investment for each of us.

Our particular investment was a bed. Yes, after eleven years of my feet hanging off the end of a rather traditionally-sized Costa Rican bed, we purchased a queen-sized mattress and box spring. According to Guillermo, a bed is an investment because you are going to spend a third of your life in it. Obviously Guillermo doesn't know our normal schedule or how much I travel!

According to the a dictionary I consulted, investing refers to the act of laying out money or capital in an enterprise with the expectation of profit. I am not sure how much profit I am going to make out of this bed, but I have been enjoying the sensation of having my feet stay under the covers all night.

Investing is also "the commitment of something other than money (time, energy or effort) to a project with the expectation of some worthwhile result." That describes a lot of mission's effort. There is not a great deal of money to invest, but missionaries invest time and energy to see God's work done in sometimes difficult places.

It was my privilege to spend last week in Cochabamba and Santa Cruz, Bolivia. It was a joy to see the results of our missionaries' faithful investments. David Quiroga and his team (which includes our daughter Norma and her family) have been working hard to see the Centro de Amistad grow into a ministry deeply impacting the children and youth of a very poor neighborhood. In addition, they have planted a church that is now beginning to grow. It was a privilege to see the young Christians worship and share together when I spoke there last Sunday. David now leads a team that includes, Australians, fellow Bolivians, Canadians along with a few from the USA.

Spending time with Mike and Bonnie Timmer is always a good investment. While this past year has presented them with several serious challenges, they continue to move ahead with building, staffing and supporting a number of smaller children's homes in Bolivia.

River Claure and his wife have worked for years to create and develop a ministry to youth leaders in Bolivia. In just over a week between 150 and 250 youth workers from around the country will arrive for a conference just outside of Cochabamba. Now, this is a REAL investment in next-generation leaders.

Down in Santa Cruz we are beginning to change around some of our investments. Jimmy Bollinger is going to begin a team modeling discipleship to university students. We are never sure how our investments will pay out, but this one looks like it has a lot of potential. Of course, the investment that IT missionaries, Ken Switzer and Marcee Groen have made in the lives of street children in Santa Cruz has already paid off. Some of the former street kids are now in university and continue to grow in their faith.

All in all, I think these IT ministries are going to be better investments than our new mattress - certainly better than "Big City Sliders!"

*"Big City Sliders" is actually a type of frying pan which enables you to make "White Castle" hamburgers in your own home... I am not sure if this would be seen as an investment or biological warfare.

Father's Day - A Week Early

2009-06-14T15:48:00.002-06:00

Yesterday, Susan, Kari and I went out to eat in Heredia to celebrate Father's Day.

Don't worry. You didn't miss it. I know the official day is next Sunday. Kari and Susan simply thought ahead and, because we are going to be busy with a work team next Sunday, they decided to do something special for me this weekend. Talk about a great family!

It did get me to thinking about what kind of father I have been. When those types of thoughts come in the middle of the night, it is usually a humbling experience. As I look back, there are several things that I probably would have done differently and want to apologize for publicly.

After all, confession is supposedly good for the soul.

Krista, I apologize for making you eat the coleslaw. I also apologize for wearing my red Converse All-Stars when I picked you and your friends up from that school activity. Yes, it was my job to embarrass you as a teenager, but I now admit there are limits.

Norma, I hereby apologize for taking you into that "special" coffee bar in Miami Beach. I promise you - I had no idea. I also apologize for letting you eat so many canned peaches at Shoney's. You seemed to be enjoying yourself and I didn't want to disappoint you.

Kari, I apologize to you for making you participate in so many adventures where you didn't feel completely safe. Truth be told, probably none of us were safe. Today, most of those adventures make good stories, but they must have been pretty frightening for a little girl.

To all three of you I apologize for the many times when ministry took priority over the precious gift I was given in being your father.

To be clear, there are some things for which I still refuse to apologize.

I do not repent of our mountain camping trips. There is nothing like camping in freezing air at 16,000 feet above sea level to make a, well, woman out of you.

I do not apologize for hours and hours of discussion around our table (or beds or hallways). Yes, you probably were forced to learn way too much about history and politics, but it doesn't seem to have harmed any of you.

I do not apologize for the tootle horns, impromptu "Hootenanny's", harmonica and sax duets or any of the other native musical experiences in our home. Just to be clear, I also do not apologize for us singing through the hymnal or learning old choruses.

In spite of my mistakes, errors and downright failures, you have all turned out to be women of God with a passion for following after him in your own ways. I couldn't ask for anything else. Thank you for allowing me to have the joy of still being your "Papi." Next to being the husband of your mother it is the greatest honor I have ever been given.

34 Lessons in 34 Years

2009-06-07T15:18:00.004-06:00

I have had a recurring fantasy over the years of being able to return to earlier point in life and "knowing everything I know now, then." It seems if I could just go back to some of the situations, issues and problems I faced years ago and apply the knowledge and experience earned through life, it would be easier to make wise decisions. At the very least I know I never would have bought that 1976 Ford Pinto!

The point is, even someone like myself (who caused his teachers to pull their hair out) can eventually learn. With that native optimism in mind, on our 34th anniversary Susan and I give you 34 things we have learned in 34 years of marriage:

Woody
1. When Susan tells me that something seems wrong in a social situation, she is usually right. Just because she can't explain something logically doesn't mean it is not true.

2. Trust Su's intuition. (see above)

3. I have learned the value of budgeting... unfortunately, now I am probably compulsive about it.

4. Primarily from Su's personal example, I learned the discipline of daily quiet times in the Word. Few lessons have impacted me as much as this one.

5. I have learned how to play my harmonica with a B flat saxophone. Our duets of old hymns brings more joy than you can imagine... of course, I do not have to listen to them!

6. Just because I am a pathological extrovert does not mean my wife or daughters will be condemned to the same personality flaw.

7. There is a limit to how many times I can invite people home for a meal in one week. Susan has the right to tell me what that limit is.

8. I have never learned to cook. However, I have learned to wash dishes efficiently and to clean up the kitchen. It has made for a nice partnership with Su who is a great cook.

9. Ironing shirts and trousers redeems the time lost spent watching the news. A corollary of this lesson is that I still find women's blouses to be more difficult to iron than men's shirts.

10. If a loving wife makes you coffee in the morning (even though she can no longer drink it), the least I can do is make the bed.

11. I have had to learn to give injections (shots or jabs). Susan gives them to everyone else in our missions community. Unfortunately, she has to get them from you-know-who. It could be worse. I had a good teacher.

12. Although I still speak it with a thick accent and limited vocabulary, I have learned to speak a bit of "Woman" over the years. One wife and three daughters will do that to you. However, as the country western songs says, “I’m still a guy.”

13. Thinking of speaking, when I married Su I did not speak one word of Spanish. Now we have half of our conversations in it. Good thing it is known as a romantic language!

14. When Susan says she hears a strange sound downstairs (or upstairs or outside), it is my job to check it out.

15. Make sure you take plenty of reading material to hospitals. No matter how long they tell you the procedure, surgery or intervention will take, it is going to be longer. Waiting when people are doing things to your wife is like living in a strange time warp where everything takes too long.

16. Playing competitive Scrabble with your wife increases your vocabulary. Also, when she says, "I am losing anyway. I am just going to play for fun," I am in deep weeds - she is about ready to whoop me.

17. Good coffee and old stories really are two of life's greatest joys. This is especially true if the person with whom you share the coffee was with you when you were living the stories.

Susan

18. From day one of our marriage, I learned to sleep with loud, irregular snoring in my ear. It's a good thing I haven't complained too much, since now I often wake myself up with my own snoring!

19. I claim to be tri-lingual. I speak English, Spanish, and "Man." I'm least fluent in "Man," but keep learning how to better understand and communicate with Woody.

20. Woody taught me long ago how to drive a motorcycle. I never could quite manage to kick-start the old Honda 500 by myself, though. I just didn’t weigh enough! When I used to work nights at the hospital in Longview, Texas, I would often have to ask Charles, a night orderly that weighed in well over 200 pounds, to kick start it for me so that I could drive home in the morning. (The electric starter seemed to always be on the blink.)

21. Woody also taught me to fly a small plane and he helped me understand the wisdom of taking out the sick sack in a timely manner.

22. Woody is generous to a fault. I've learned generosity from him, and learned to not fault him for it!

23. I have gained an appreciation of art and history. Initially I could only tolerate a one-hour stretch in an art museum. Last year we spent 2 1/2 hours in the Orsay Museum in Paris, and I begged to stay longer.

24. Woody is a tremendous example to me in various areas where God continues to stretch me, including patience, commitment, hospitality, and wisdom.

25. I learned that I married a writer! Woody himself didn't realize it until several years into our marriage. Now I love reading and editing what he writes.

26. I learned to calmly accept questions such as, “Can you fix lunch for sixty people tomorrow?” (Part of the joys of church-planting.)

27. A memorized prayer can be a good thing. From the Roland family prayer we got our family motto: Be ever mindful of the needs of others.

28. Two parents are optimal in raising children. (I greatly respect those of you that are single-parenting!) We loved raising our children together and now are enjoying grand-parenting.

29. From the beginning of our marriage, people kept warning us that things always get worse, "Just wait 'til you've been married a year... until you have children.. until you have teenagers ... then you won't be as happy!" We've found each year that being in love only gets better.

30. Having the above happiness (see point # 29) takes a lot of work and investment. We have learned to be very intentional in taking time not just to go on a date, but to talk about our relationship and work on learning to have a healthy dialogue with one another.

31. Mentors are so important. Together we have learned how valuable it is to pour our lives into the lives of others and to seek counsel for ourselves.

32. Glasses are of utmost importance and value. Since I didn’t have to wear glasses until age 45, I confess I used to take them for granted. When Woody got stung by a bee and I leaped to his aid, crushing his favorite pair of glasses in the process, I learned that I need to allow him to grieve the loss. Having glasses of my own has deepened my appreciation for an attachment to them!

33. Marrying an extrovert does not necessarily mean I'll start to enjoy parties.

34. When I married Woody, I knew God had given me a wonderful man. But, it's taken 34 years to discover so many facets of him that are such a gift to me.

Zucchini Time in Costa Rica

2009-05-31T16:51:00.003-06:00

Zucchini season is upon us in Costa Rica. Well, almost, kind of and, yet, not quite.

You know what I am talking about.

Each year the cycle repeats itself when friends, relatives and people you may have met once in your dentist's waiting room, begin to leave brown paper grocery bags on your doorstep filled with produce from their gardens. For some reason, no matter what the weather has been and with no regard for global warming, there is almost always a bumper crop of zucchini.

On a philosophical level and in moderation I have nothing against zucchini. It is relatively low in calories and contains useful amounts of folate, potassium and vitamin A. A 1/2 cup of zucchini actually provides 19% of your daily needs of manganese - which I have always thought of as a metal alloy and not a nutritional need.

Still, this is note is not really about zucchini - which grows up to three feet long in Costa Rica. (That is more zucchini bread than anyone should EVER eat). Instead, our cultural equivalent are bananas. Everyone has them. Tiny Costa Rica is the seventh largest producer of bananas in the world and it seems like everyone participates in the national goal of increasing that production.

One fact you need to understand is that when a stalk of bananas begins to mature, you immediately have a lot of bananas! To my knowledge, all of my neighbors currently have large stalks of bananas on their porches, in their garages, on their kitchen counters and, possibly, under their beds. The church we attend even has their own bananas growing by the parking lot. When Christians observe you getting out of your car with bananas in your hands (to give away, of course), they immediately duck into the bathroom to hide.

In Costa Rica we cook bananas, make banana soup, eat banana chips, prepare green banana salad and bake bananas with cheese on top. (I am NOT making this up!) Even with these creative uses, we have too many bananas. Sometimes there is simply a lot of fruit.

This past weekend, in addition to the many bananas growing on the Multiplication Center property, we saw a different type of fruit maturing. Our Sonlife team organized a conference to train youth leaders and pastors in discipleship principles based on the life of Christ. About 50 people came from a dozen churches from around the country. They learned principles about Jesus' preparation for public ministry and His call to "Come and see." They also learned about what it really means to call a disciple to follow after Jesus.

I may occasionally get tired of zucchini or bananas, but the fruit of these young leaders is something that I long to see day in and day out in the years ahead.

Sinners Like Me

2009-04-12T14:16:00.001-06:00

More than once I have been accused of having a big mouth. Several times the extremely short distance between my brain and my mouth has gotten me into trouble. As early as first grade my teacher wrote on my report card, “(Woody) must learn there are times to talk with his neighbors and times to not talk with them.” Referring to my singing she wrote, “He must learn that a loud voice is not necessarily a nice voice.”

For some reason, my daughters seem to find a great deal of humor in reading my report cards.

The mouth is mentioned four times in Paul’s Letter to the Romans. Taken together, these comments regarding the mouth of man provide a type of biography of anyone who is really saved.

The first mention of the mouth is found in Romans 3:14 where it says, “Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.” You might think this was making reference to the pagans in the time of Paul. However, it also includes the religious people and the moral people he wrote about in chapter two. In fact, without God in our lives, most men’s mouths speak from their pain, disappointment and anger. To prove this, all you have to do is turn on your television and listen to political commentary any evening of the week.

The second time this subject is raised is in Romans 3:19. “Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world may be held accountable to God.”

Left to himself man speaks with bold cursing against anything supernatural. However, when man is confronted by “God who is judge of man’s hearts and actions,” he is silent. There is nothing to be said in our defense when faced with the “God Who is There.”

Still, there is hope.

In Romans 10:9 we read, “Because if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”

If the same man who was guilty of cursing God in Romans 3:14 recognizes Jesus as Lord, he will be saved. That is the promise that “big-mouthed sinners” like me have to hope for. We have already proven we can’t do it by ourselves. We need someone else.

Finally, we find man’s mouth actively praising and worshiping the Lord: “That with one accord and with one mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Romans 15:6, LITV)

It is interesting to see this passage is not found in the context of prosperity and eternal pleasure. Instead, the verses immediately preceding it speak about the strong ones helping the weak ones in hard times – about the need for encouragement and endurance in difficult situations. Together, even in the tough times, we can worship the God who was raised from the dead.

Someday when I find myself before the throne of the Lamb, I am going to open my mouth and sing with the loudest first grade voice I can still muster. I am not going to be concerned about what my report card says anymore. I will not be thinking about the opinion others have about my voice. I only want my risen Lord to know how thankful I am that He took the time to save loud-mouthed sinners like me.

Musical Instincts

2009-03-28T15:34:00.003-06:00

I begin this note with some trepidation. I realize those folks who think of me as a spiritual missionary will be disillusioned with my musical tastes. I also realize that several of my friends who see me as a “treasure trove of trivia” for classic rock ‘n roll will be stunned to find that I actually enjoy a wide variety of music.

Ah, well. Sometimes all you can do is trust your instincts.

All of this began with a note sent to me last week by my friend and former co-worker, Darryl Lawler. He identified (in his opinion) the five greatest music albums of all time. Of course, I wrote back quickly with some observations including the fact that he had not mentioned any of Bob Dylan’s best efforts.

After my back and forth with Darryl, I began to ask myself what music had deeply impacted me in life. In essence, what music albums had made a difference to me? Since I was in the car by myself when I was thinking on this question, I didn’t have to impress anyone. As a result, I was a bit surprised by some of my own answers.

The first album that ever reached me on some deeper level was one by the Weatherford Quartet… the 1956 to 1964 line-up which included Glen Payne as lead singer; Lily Weatherford as alto; Earl Weatherford singing baritone; Armond Morales, bass; and, Henry Slaughter on piano. “Rock a My Soul” was a personal favorite. The tight blend of harmonies and general level of musicianship made even old songs sound new.

If God grants our selfish wishes in heaven I am going to be able to sing that tenor part on “Rock a My Soul” someday.

I met Earl Weatherford by the side of the road early one morning in East Texas. At that point in my life I drove a Volkswagen and had hair almost to my shoulders. When I told him how much I enjoyed his music and how much it meant to me, he wondered if I was pulling his leg. Looking back I can understand why he was a bit surprised.

Many of you will be surprised by the next album I chose in my internal conversation. In representing the genre of rock ‘n roll which obviously has a place in my heart, I could have chosen Revolver, Pet Sounds or Machine Head. Abby Road meant a lot to me at a certain point in time. However, the album that came to mind most intuitively was Déjà Vu by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

Honestly, I believe I may be cheating on this one. I think the album may simply represent a place in time to me. However, I also think it represents any album which has excellent acoustic guitar combined with a social consciousness. I have always been a sucker for that mix of magic. Cat Stevens, Woody Guthrie, CSN&Y… it doesn’t matter. I enjoy it.

Déjà Vu combines sweet idealism, militant blues and excellent vocal harmonies. Sadly, it turned out to be one of only two real albums these guys did together. Apparently, it is hard to co-exist with that much ego packed into one recording studio. Besides the “60’s idealism” was always easier to talk about (or sing about) than it was to live out in the reality of everyday life.

My third album will not be as surprising to those of you who know me. Only Visiting This Planet by Larry Norman was released by Verve in 1972 and on the MGM label in 1973. Side one included, “Why Don't You Look Into Jesus?” “The Outlaw;” “Without Love You Are Nothing;” and, “I Wish We'd All Been Ready,” among others. The amount of time I have spent performing those songs over the years probably merits the inclusion of this album on my “high impact” list.

Larry was an interesting fellow – a real pioneer in contemporary Christian music. He was also one of the most sarcastic individuals I have ever listened to. My guess is that he was not easy to get along with either. Still, his music had a big influence on my life.

Besides, “Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music?” (found on side B) became a philosophical underpinning to my perspective on music. My own answer is that he shouldn’t, and that he doesn’t. However, some Sundays I do occasionally doubt my own wisdom on the subject.

Back to those albums bound to surprise, I would have to add Antal Doráti’s stereophonic recording of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, or, Ouverture Solennelle, L'Année 1812, Op. 49. Dorati used an actual carillon called for in the score and the bells are rung about as close to a zvon (a uniquely Russian bell set) as you can get. The Dorati recording also uses an actual French period cannon manufactured around 1812, which belonged to the United States Military Academy at West Point.

Mr. Johnson, my eighth grade music teacher, made us listen to that album again and again and again. Believe me, I could continue for some time with those “agains.” We wore that album out!

The reason this album impacted me so much is that I believe that it led to my love of classical music. I love string quartets. Chamber orchestras relax me. Bach, Handel, Jean Sibelius and Sergei Vasilievich Rachmaninoff are all favorites. I still enjoy Tchaikovsky. However, truth be told, I mention the album for its impact on me and not the fact that I enjoy listening to it anymore.

Mr. Johnson may just have forced me to listen to it “one too many times” for my own good.

One album that I can never listen to enough is Steve Goodman’s Somebody Else’s Troubles. This was Goodman's sophomore effort which he described as a "buncha Jewish guys sitting around playing the blues...” Some of his friends added excellent guest turns. Bob Dylan actually played on the title song operating under the pseudonym of Robert Milkwood Thomas. He did that kind of thing in those days.

The album included, “The Dutchman,” “Chicken Cordon Bleus,” “Somebody Else’s Troubles” and “The Vegetable Song.” My girls grew up with Susan and I singing the last one to them. If I was to get out a guitar right now (and they were here with me) they could sing all the words without even breaking a sweat.

The emotional centerpiece of the album was a devastating solo acappella song entitled, "The Ballad of Penny Evans." I have heard a lot of protest songs in my life. This one is the best.

Even though it makes it six albums and not five, I have to add one more to my list.

When I was dating Susan we used to sit in front of the fireplace in her parent’s family room and listen to a record called Windjammer. This was a 1958 concept album based on a German or Scandinavian group of young sailors making a long training trip together on a three-masted vessel. In the course of the trip they apparently sang a lot and had orchestras magically appear at crucial moments.

You may think, “What a silly album to listen to in 1971!” You are probably right. There certainly was more important music to listen to back in those days.

Still, I cannot tell you how many times Susan fell asleep with her head on my lap listening to that album. When she did, I often found myself praying about us, about life and about where I would travel to one day. I have to believe those prayers have been answered many times over.

Besides, our daughter Kari is named for the song, “Kari Waits for Me.” You can’t beat that for high impact music.

Now, some of you are probably noting that even though I gave myself six albums, I still didn’t mention Bob Dylan. Of course, you are correct. Bob Dylan was always an influence, but none of his albums, when I thought about it, really changed me in a significant way. Surprisingly, if I had to choose one, I would probably go for Modern Times.

All of his life Dylan has tried to reflect the worn-down wisdom of some of his musical heroes like Woody Guthrie. At 65 he probably feels like he has rightfully earned the authenticity to go along with all his efforts. On Modern Times he struggles with faith, mortality and the relentless passage of time. I especially appreciate the line from the song “Nettie Moore.” “The world has gone black before my eyes; I’m beginning to believe what the Scriptures tell.” In another piece he sings, “I practice a faith that is long abandoned; ain’t no altars on this long and lonesome road.”

Powerful words for an interesting time in life and history. However, if I am honest, my appreciation of the album probably has more to do with the fact that a guy Bob Dylan’s age can still be musically relevant. It gives me hope that my middle-aged voice and arthritic fingers can do the same.

Follow Me

2009-03-22T13:10:00.001-06:00

This weekend we have been working with a group of Costa Ricans who came to the Multiplication Center for something we call "Vista Previa" (Preview Weekend). Interested people spend time hearing about missions opportunities; getting exposed to the realities of cross-cultural ministry; and, are seeing the opportunity for taking some "next steps" in the process. This year we have purposely limited the number of participants, so that we might invest in those who are a bit more serious about taking those steps forward.

Yesterday I spoke to the nine participants about God using our personalities for His honor and glory. Susan shared about what it means to be called in God's work. Together we led a cross-cultural simulation that placed them in a new culture where they tried to share the Gospel. Today we celebrated the Lord's Supper together and Kari helped orient the candidates about where they go from here.

All of this has made me think about Matthew 9:9. The Williams New Testament translates it this way: "And as He was passing along from there, He saw a man named Matthew in his seat at the tax-collector's desk, and He said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed Him."

My fevered (some say bizarre) imagination sees Matthew working over some obscure tax form used for paying customs in Capernaum. He looks up and sees this teacher that has been hanging out in town lately. Everybody is talking about the authoritative way in which He teaches. Jesus looks Matthew straight in the eye and makes His abrupt invitation. And, just as abruptly, Matthew decides to leave it all and follow Him.

In a way, Matthew's leaving was different than the other disciples. Many of them could go back to fishing or other subsistence activities. When Matthew left that incomplete tax form on his desk, there was no going back.

If we think the simplicity of this decision sounds a bit improbable, we forget that many major decisions are made this way.

In Vietnam my friend Jack had to make a quick decision as to whether or not he would save some Vietnamese boys' lives. In many ways, the choice he made changed the course of his life. At the beginning of our missionary career, Susan and I were planning on going to Austria. We made the decision to go to Bolivia on the basis of one phone call. Many of you reading this knew you were in love very early on in your relationship. In essence, you made a quick decision about the person with whom you were going to spend your life.

Matthew's decision can be broken down into two basic types of questions related to "follow" and "me." The same is true for us today.

Why should we follow? How far do we follow? Where do we follow Him? How much can we take along with us? What are we going to get if we follow Him?

The second type of question asks, “Who is this man asking us to follow Him? Can we trust Him? How can we find out more about Him?”

Of course if I think about my relationship with Susan, I realize that I did not come to fully understand her, to fully understand who she was (is!) and then choose to love her. No, at least in my case, the love came first and the understanding is still in the evolutionary process. My guess is that I will still be learning about her until the day we have to say good-bye here in this world or meet Him in the air.

Part of exercising our "faith muscles" is just taking the first step. To quote Frederick Buechner, " Faith is stepping out into the unknown with nothing to guide us but a hand just beyond our grasp. Faith is the word that describes the direction our feet start moving when we find that we are loved."

Matthew must have sensed that love when he stepped away from his desk forever. He didn't understand everything - only enough for the moment. According to tradition, Matthew died a martyr's death in Ethiopia. He didn't have to know that detail when he got up and put down the form on which he was working. He only had to see that "certain something" in Jesus that allowed him to take the first steps.

May we have grace to see some of the same something today as we look at Him.

Invented Words

2009-02-27T09:08:00.002-07:00

Okay, I am going to admit something here that requires a bit of courage.

When I was in elementary school I used to make up words to impress my friends.

There, I’ve said it! I must tell you that I feel much better for having confessed this short-coming to all of you.

I enjoyed reading when I was a kid and understood rather quickly that through it I could learn things my teachers were either unwilling or unable to teach me. I also realized that I could control my environment (especially in the classroom) by bombarding my teachers with some of the knowledge I was subversively acquiring in the library.

I remember in the third grade, as our teacher was having us go through one of those “Atom Bomb” disaster drills, utilizing my skill for manipulating information to provoke my own mini-civil emergency. Mrs. Rucker repeated the usual cold-war mantra, “Class, when you see the flash: fall to the floor; crawl under your desk; and, put your head on your knees.” At this I raised my hand and, when called upon, began to explain in great detail my recent findings that if we could actually see the flash we were all going to die anyway. I believe it was when Diane Fast and a few other girls began to cry on the other side of the room that I decided to “go for the gold” and include my own scientific-sounding words to add credence to my rather florid description of the anatomical results of a nuclear explosion.

Personally, I don’t think it was necessary for Mrs. Rucker to grab me by the collar as she had two boys move my desk out into the hallway. However, I will tell you my sojourn out there was well-worth the small embarrassment it might have caused me. Listening to her trying to calm down the more emotional children was sufficient reward for some of the sarcastic comments I received from random “hall-walkers.”

Now, before you are tempted to criticize my short-coming, you should be aware that I am not alone in my invention of new terminology.

In all of Shakespeare’s work - the plays, the sonnets and the narrative poems – he used 17,677 different words. Of those, 1,700 were first used and possibly invented by Shakespeare. Some of the new words which we use regularly today are: accommodation, aerial, assassination, bump, courtship, dwindle, laughable, lonely and pious. And, just in case you are suspicious as to whether I am making this all up, you should know he invented the word “suspicious,” as well.

The Apostle Paul was not opposed to the odd foray into “language pioneering.” When it suited his purposes he was more than willing to go where no man had ever gone before.

In Ephesians 1:18,19 we read, “I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.” (NIV)

The phrase translated to English as “incomparably great power” is “huperballon megethos” in the Greek. If I (and the fellows I read) understand correctly, the term megethos only appears once in the New Testament. It is used other places in literature to mean “strong” or “great.” However, using this solitary term wasn’t enough for Paul. So, he adds the compound word huperballō. The full idea of Paul’s invented term is that of a power beyond measure, super abounding or surpassing power… power that is more than enough.

Looking down at my expanding middle-age waistline, I get the idea of words that are stretching at their seams as Paul tries to pour more meaning into them.

By the way, have you noticed that Paul doesn’t include what God’s power exceeds? The obvious implication is that it exceeds everything. Paul simply could not say enough about the greatness and majesty of God, and as exact a language as Greek is, he still had difficulty even finding words to express his thoughts.

Deuteronomy 10:17 says, “The LORD your God is more powerful than all other gods and lords, and his tremendous power is to be feared…” He is a God bigger than the biggest nuclear bomb I was frightened with in my childhood. He is bigger than any word or term Paul could invent. He is greater and more powerful than the challenges and enemies any of us will have to face in the coming week.

Until next time, I close by say “Bonzito” (a word Susan and her siblings made up, meaning “good-bye”).

Fight the Good Fight

2009-02-23T09:49:00.002-07:00

Every Christian leader is going to have to fight a few battles along the way. You always hope you choose the right ones. I was once told by an older man that your battles will define who you become as a leader. The older I get, the more I can understand his reasoning.

During the past few weeks I seem to have lost more battles than I have won.

My losing streak began with a combined assault by my daughter's washing machine and a shelf in her laundry room. While visiting with the Ophi (plural of Ophus) in Chicago after the birth of little Jonathan, I was asked to look at the machine and see if I could fix it. I was told by my son-in-law that it had a tendency to "walk" during the spin cycle. "Marching to Zion" would have been a more accurate description! After spending several hours trying to find a possible solution and being sneakily attacked by the shelving more than once, I left the laundry room with several cuts on my bald head and the suggestion that they buy a different washer.

Defeated by low technology. There is no doubt it dealt a blow to my ego.

My losing streak continued as I battled to be a successful "single" male while Susan stayed in Chicago for an additional week helping Krista get going in her new ministry of motherhood. Many of you understand that, after thirty-some years of marriage, I have not been fully domesticated. I believe that cooking for myself means pouring milk on the cereal. Still, I was determined to do better this time alone than I have on other occasions when Susan has abandoned me to myself.

Truth be told, I did manage to cook a few simple meals. I actually thought the "Beany-Weenie Rancheros" had some potential. I believe my use of Ragu sauce was truly creative. Still, by the end of the week, our daughter Kari had to bail me out on several domestic chores to help get the house ready for Susan.

Obviously, there is more than one reason that I have enjoyed marriage for almost 34 years!

There is one battle we do not want to lose. Speaking to his disciple Timothy, Paul wrote, "Keep up the good fight for the faith" (1 Timothy 6:12, Williams New Testament). In this particular case, it seems the end not only justifies the means, it actually defines it. The battle becomes "good" because it is about the very essence of the message that Jesus came to give.

At this point in life I am pretty well resigned to continuing my losing streak with domesticity. However, I pray that I might have the courage and the resignation to continue on fighting that good fight for a wonderful faith.

Fame That Doesn't Fade

2009-01-31T19:55:00.001-07:00

Some of you might have missed an important generational milestone this past week. Friday was the fortieth anniversary of the last time the Beatles played a concert. On January 30, 1969, they went up to the rooftop of their Apple Corporation headquarters in Savile Row and played five songs. Billy Preston joined them on keyboards. It was the last time the Beatles played together in public.

It seems that fame can be a very dangerous intoxicant.

The Beatles stormed onto the U.S. stage when they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964. I remember the night well because I had volunteered to stay home from Sunday evening service to look after my sister, Janet. I am not sure if Janet was faking it, but I can assure you my interest in her well-being only extended as far as seeing the beginning of the British invasion.

The Beatles opened and closed the show. In between there were a variety of other acts. Right before the Beatles came on for their final two songs, a husband/wife comedy team known as "Mitzi McCall and Charlie Brill" were on. Can you imagine? The Ed Sullivan Theater was filled with fourteen and fifteen year-old girls. The Beatles manager had made sure of that. Those young ladies were there for one reason and one reason alone.

Needless to say, Mitzi and Charlie bombed.

In fact, in a later Washington Post interview McCall said, "It was a nightmare. We just about wanted to kill ourselves." Both of them think of it as the worst night of their lives. It was only recently that either of them were capable of sitting down and seeing a DVD of the performance of their only appearance on Sullivan's show. (For the record, they did receive a few laughs.)

Still, it is worth noting that the Beatles lasted only seven years as a band. Mitzi and Charlie are about ready to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They have one daughter whom they adore. In a recent radio interview I heard, it sounded for all the world as if they were still in love.

I wonder almost forty-five years later, who is happier - the elderly couple who are still in love, or, the surviving Beatles with the wreckage that their lives became?

As I thought about these long-ago events during the past few days, a verse from Ecclesiastes came to my mind. "A good reputation at the time of death is better than loving care at the time of birth." (Ecclesiastes 7:1, CEV)

I have to admit it: Coming of age in the late sixties and early seventies, I dreamed of hitting it big playing my guitar. What young man who could play six chords and had long hair didn't? Still, as a semi-mature man heading down the far slope of middle age, I am more thankful for what I have now than what I hoped to have back then.

May the Lord help all of us to end better than we began. May our reputation at the end be better than any transient fame we have along the way.

Experience Worketh Hope

2009-01-25T07:31:00.002-07:00

I have been sick this past week.

I fear being sick for two reasons: 1) the obvious discomfort that sickness includes... especially when you are traveling, and 2) how poor of a patient I can be when I am sick. Let me assure you, at this point in my life, the latter fear is greater than the former.

Unfortunately, I have earned my reputation as a bad patient. When I was six I had to have Vitamin K shots after a normal childhood surgery. I distinctly remember that it took three nurses (one abnormally muscular for her gender) to hold me down for those injections.

Years later, when Susan and I were both hospitalized in Bolivia with hepatitis, we had to have Vitamin K shots again. It was obvious that the young lady giving the injections suffered from dyslexia of nursing technique. She pushed the needle in slowly... very… slowly...and then pushed the actual medicine in as fast as she could. I chose to respond with a true Texas cowboy yell. Doctors came running from several areas of the hospital while my assailant attempted to quiet me.

Susan and my daughters still tell stories about my prolonged episode with typhoid fever. In most of them I come off as rather irascible. I would feel worse about that except I have always wanted to use the word "irascible" in one of our updates.

Yesterday morning, in a brief chat session, my brother-in-law Vito wrote that he had many questions about sickness. I had to agree. Some days it is just plain hard to defend theologically.

Still, at just about the same time, I read the following words from one of my favorite "dead-Scottish-preachers," A. J. Gossip. He wrote the following in Experience Worketh Hope. “Of course, it all depends upon what we are praying for. If we are whimpering, and sniveling, and begging to be spared the discipline of life that is sent to knock some smatterings of manhood into us, the answer to that prayer may never come at all. Thank God! … If you are not bleating to get off, but asking to be given grace and strength to see this through with honour, ‘the very day’ you pray that prayer, the answer always comes."

What a prayer! May God give each of us the grace and strength to face with honor the challenges life brings to us. May we be good patients of the Great Physician as He works His medicine in us.

If I Were Satan

2009-01-07T11:04:00.001-07:00

If I were Satan…this is how I would attack missionaries.

If I were Satan I’d get missionaries to teach nice things about a nice God. I’d make sure they avoided the dangerous God of the Bible. I would have them preach Jesus as a “tame kitty” and not as Aslan of Narnia.

If I were Satan I would try to wear the missionary out with issues surrounding language and cultural acquisition. I would try to make sure they were so frustrated with those things that they would give up on learning good Spanish (or English) and go back to their birth culture within four to five years. I would tell them they could be more effective there… and then break them with discouragement at having “failed” when they go back to those countries!

If I were Satan I’d undermine the missionary’s confidence in the Word of God. I’d get him or her to start believing in the latest fad or program of Christianity rather than returning again and again to the wealth found in the Scriptures.

If I were Satan I’d want to make sure that missionaries looked at every example and model except the model of Jesus. If I could can keep them looking at the latest missiological trends rather than going back to that “old-hat” stuff about Jesus I think I could keep them from making a profound and permanent difference in people’s lives.

If I were Satan I would get missionaries to do one of two things: First, I would get them to so idealize their birth culture that they could not adjust to their host culture; or, I would get them to idealize their host culture and criticize their birth culture. Either way I would make them angry and frustrated and incapable of sharing the message they went to share.

If I were Satan I’d convince missionaries to stay stuck in their old ways. I’d challenge them to not think outside the box when it comes to the way they communicate to this next-generation of leaders.

If I were Satan I’d especially attack missionaries in areas related to their intimate lives. I would get them to feel so lonely they would seek comfort in chat rooms and pictures or videos on the internet that imitate real intimacy. After all, if I could keep missionaries from developing healthy intimacy how would they help others develop intimacy with God?

If I were Satan I’d convince missionaries they don’t need accountability from their co-workers. I’d persuade them that they needed to keep up the image of perfection and not be honest about their inner struggles. I’d convince them to avoid baring their deepest spiritual battles, hurts and sins to a close, co-worker whom they trust.

If I were Satan I’d convince missionaries they had to do everything. I’d challenge them to keep busy with busyness in order to justify the support they are receiving. The last thing I would want them to realize and embrace is that their primary responsibility is to first be a disciple and then to make disciples.

If I were Satan I’d encourage missionaries to believe the lie that all conflict is bad. I would make them run from sincere, legitimate differences of opinion with their co-workers.

If I were Satan I’d attack the writer of these words with his own inadequacies. I’d remind him of every time he has messed up and failed. I’d show him his own hypocrisy. I’d convince him that he had no right to write judgmental words. I’d challenge him to take the kinder, gentler course of typing safe, funny things. If that didn’t work I’d convince him that he is somehow better than any his own struggling missionaries.

(With sincere compliments to Greg Stier who once wrote something similar for Pastors and to Paul Harvey who years ago aired a segment on his radio program called, “If I Were the Devil.”)

Fatherhood and the Rebellious Son

2009-01-04T06:32:00.004-07:00

I have my first confession to make for 2009. I do not like reading popular Christian books. There, I said it! It is out in the open. My heart feels lighter already.

Please understand, I don’t mind discovering a book and encouraging everyone else to read it. I have even been guilty of buying several copies of a book I have especially enjoyed and giving them away to people (and therefore obligating them to at least make the attempt at reading it). However, when people tell me about a popular book “that I just have to read” there is a part of my soul that reacts negatively. Case in point, it took me three years to read Yancey’s What’s So Amazing About Grace just because well-meaning friends told me I would love it.

By the way, when I did finally read it, I really enjoyed it. If you haven’t picked up a copy, you should. If you’re at all like me there is no need to worry; it is not on any “Top Ten” reading lists for 2008.

Recently several people have been encouraging me to read The Shack by William P. Young. I understand there is a certain amount of controversy about the subject matter in the book concerning its representation of God. Still, there are apparently nine million copies in print. With this level of popularity, it could take me a while to investigate the scandal for myself.

Still, thinking of “our Heavenly Father” has encouraged me look at a few Scriptures which describe this characteristic of God in the Bible. The Greek word patēr is where we get our English words such as paternity and paternal. In Greek philosophy it referred to the patriarchal head of the family. It seems to me that the Jews of the OT saw five basic characteristics concerning God’s Fatherhood and how that impacted their lives.

First, they saw God’s Fatherhood in terms of His beginning or engendering. 1 Chronicles 29:10 gives Him a title, “Lord God of Israel our Father,” and views Him as the One Who created the nation and would continue to be its father.

Second, OT Jews saw God’s Fatherhood in terms of His nearness to them. They saw that, as a Father, He is closer than any relative or friend. In Psalm 68, God is viewed riding through the clouds with His 20,000 chariots and angels. But then the psalmist pulls back from this incredible picture to view the very personal — “father of the fatherless and defender of widows.” (Psalm 68:5) What a contrast! Still, talk about a father with REAL power. Who wouldn’t want that?

Third, OT Jews saw God’s Fatherhood in terms of His loving grace… and that it REALLY was amazing. They saw God’s Fatherhood as something forgiving, tenderhearted, merciful, and gracious. “As a father has compassion for his children, so the LORD has compassion for those who fear him.” (Psalm 103:13).

Fourth, the Jewish people saw God’s Fatherhood in terms of His guidance. Jeremiah wrote, “They shall come with weeping, and with supplications will I lead them: I will cause them to walk by the rivers of waters in a straight way, wherein they shall not stumble: for I am a father to Israel” (Jeremiah 31:9).

These first four views may seem to romanticize God. The final view I share shows that this was not the case.

The Hebrew people understood God’s Fatherhood in terms of their obedience to Him. Here is the view that “unsentimentalizes” the others. After rebelling against Him, Moses said to Israel: “Is this how you repay the LORD, you foolish and silly people? Isn't he your Father and Owner, who made you and formed you? (Deuteronomy 32:6). Talk about a Father who asks for our complete obedience!

Someday, probably when there are twenty million copies in print, but the book can be found on the remainders table, I will have to pick up a copy of The Shack. Who knows? I may even read it. However, until that day (and long after) God the Father will still be God Almighty and I will be His more-than-occasionally-rebellious son in need of confession.

Good Advice, Good News

2008-12-13T16:46:00.002-07:00

I have noticed there is all sorts of "good advice" going around in the current economic environment. Everyone seems to have something to say about how to survive or even prosper in these hard times. Well, everyone except me. My understanding of personal finances is pretty well limited to: 1) Don't spend what you don't have; and, 2) Consumer credit will eventually bite you in the backside.

Oh! Also, give all your receipts to Susan so that she can enter them into Quicken.

My guess is that the first two suggestions might actually help someone else, but the final one is probably only useful to me.

It has crossed my mind that there is a great deal of difference between "good advice" and "good news."

Back in the days when battles were definitively won or lost, if a general did win a great victory he would send news back to his nation telling what had happened. That news was pretty authoritative. It described a reality that existed.

If that same general lost the battle, he probably sent back some of his officers to give advice to his government about what to do next.From my perspective, advice from a losing general lacks a certain amount of credibility. His nation's leaders might have listened to him or, as a defeated general, they might have disregarded what he had to say.

Unfortunately, we often preach the message of Jesus as though it were good advice rather than good news. We tell our friends and neighbors if they follow these rules for living they will be better people, live longer and that all of their children will be "above average." Unfortunately, like much of the economic advice today, it is simply not true.

Good news tells us what has been done for us. It describes a reality. It tells us the victory has already been won... we just have to accept it.

If we follow good advice, it is because we feel like we should. If you are like me, doing what you should do can occasionally make you feel resentful. "Ah, mom! Do I have to?"

I think you get the idea.

Responding to good news is something different. We don't have to think about it. We just do it. We are not obligated. We are empowered.

Our current hard times should serve as a reminder to get back to giving the good news that changes lives. Let's leave the good advice to whoever took over from Ann, Abby and Heloise.

Hard Week, Good Memories

2008-12-07T19:23:00.002-07:00

Can I be honest with you? This has been a hard week. Some weeks are like that.

Don't get me wrong. I am not talking about any major disaster. Just the normal rough and tumble of ministry.

I found out this week that one of my good friends is facing a difficult situation in his ministry and is going to resign. That will hurt both him, his fellow workers and, in my opinion, the long-term health of the ministry he has built up over the years. In addition, I had a hard conversation with a church that has partnered with us at the Multiplication Center for several years. They are now changing their long-term strategy and vision. As a result, we are going to lose their support and practical help. Nuts! I hate it when something like that happens.

Of course my gloomy mood could also have to do with some late night/early morning trips to the airport that have resulted in little sleep. Or, maybe it is the fact that we are now at the end of three months of rain where our aggregate accumulation has reached around sixty inches. Five feet of rain can certainly be mood altering.

A book that Susan and I are reading out loud to each other, The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, has encouraged me a bit. It has also brought back some wonderful memories from a simpler time in life.

Do you remember when buying an appliance for your home was still such a big thing that it became the central point of conversation at supper? Today, it seems like it has become passé or even poor education to talk about something you have bought for your house. Years ago, the addition of a new product was the topic of conversation not only at our dinner table, but, in all likelihood, at several of our neighbor's tables, as well.

Ovens, washing machines and even significant plumbing could spark rumors around the neighborhood. Dryers could not escape notice. Televisions were on everyone's mind.

I remember when our family upgraded from a “green phosphorescence television” (you remember - light green with that rather dark green, roundish tube) to "real" black and white. Kids from several surrounding houses stopped by to try it out and watch Howdy Doody. If I remember right, it was an Admiral Television. I watched most of the sixties take place on it.

I think my father bought things without talking to my mother. I could be wrong on this. I haven't asked them about it. However, Mom often seemed as surprised as me by what came through the door.

My father brought a Zenith stereo home one evening. I am talking about a for-real-high-fidelity console stereo with AM/FM radio (although FM was still just an empty waveband in our community). The stereo came with five albums to play. One of them had two songs by that "new Colombia recording sensation, Bob Dylan." Talk about a life-changing experience! In a home where our most popular musical entertainment were Weatherford Quartet albums, Bob Dylan was a breath of fresh air.

A very nasal puff of fresh air, but fresh air all the same.

Of course the purchase of a different car created interest in the entire neighborhood. I still remember the Ames' 64 Chevrolet. They had a Rambler before that. The Woods family drove a '56 Buick. The Westphals had that yellow panel truck. My father seemed to change cars a bit more often than the other men in our community. Therefore, we probably became a topic of conversation more often than others.

Thinking of topics of conversation, at this point in my life I must admit that I have never really forgiven him for that 1958 Chevy we had. '57s became classics. Even the '59 was a stylistic advance. 1958 was not Chevrolet's year. Of course the same could be said for entire decades in the '70s, '80s and '90s.

So far, the 00s are not looking too good either.

Certain memories can be helpful in cheering us up… even as the rainy seasons in our life continue unabated. King David understood this concept. In Psalm 18:25 he wrote, “O LORD, you are faithful to those who are faithful to you; completely good to those who are perfect.” When encountering a few bumps in life it is important to keep in mind the ways God has proved Himself faithful to us time after time… after time after time after time.

Traveling Man

2008-11-24T14:39:00.003-07:00

Traveling always brings to mind certain things, doesn’t it? When you travel you are either going to some type of work or away from it. Traveling means finding adventure or going back to a safety and stability that you can only find at home. At a certain age travel means desperately never needing a bathroom (if you catch my drift) or having bathrooms becoming the desperate focus of your entire being!

Our ministry has required me to travel a great deal over the years. It is one of the things that I do without too many questions. Many missionaries remain with the same tribal group for years without leaving. I haven’t unpacked my traveling shave kit since it was given to me over ten years ago. With one hundred and fifty missionaries serving with International Teams in Latin America there is always a trip I am about to make and a few that I should have made, but simply didn’t have the time or budget.

St. Augustine said, “The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.” As for me, I have found great joy and occasional boredom in reading many pages of that book over the years.

A good question for some of you might be, “What does Woody do on these trips?” (I know that Susan occasionally asks the same thing!) My trip last week to Quito might provide a quick answer.

During my six-day visit to Ecuador I did the following:

Met with twenty eight individual missionaries, missionary families and/or work teams.
Drank twenty cups of coffee in meetings or meals with those folks. I still needed Brad Miller to bring me a cup every morning when I was having my devotions. (Thanks for that act of love, Brad!) I am afraid the reading of the Word of God in the morning and coffee have become inextricably linked in my mind. Every man will have some type of legalism in his soul. I believe I have chosen mine well.
Led a devotional time with two groups.
Visited three churches. I found out I was preaching in the final one only when the pastor introduced me as the speaker for the morning. Note to self: NEVER travel without a sermon in my back pocket.
Discussed romance and marriage (and how they combine with a missionary career) with four starry-eyed singles.
Spoke with several Ecuadorians to talk about investing their lives in missions.
Watched part of one missionary kid soccer game and one MK volley ball game.

In total, excluding travel time, I worked eighty-six hours in six days. (Please don’t write the email to Susan about me needing to slow down. She has read that letter several times, absorbed it and made her best attempt. She has concluded that she cannot be successful in all areas of life.)

John Ed Pearce said, “Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.” I resemble that comment. It doesn’t matter if it has rained steadily for the past four days (it has) or the in-box is overflowing (it is). It is still home. The coffee is smoother, anxiety about bathroom facilities is dissipated and the pillow “just right.”

Stating the Obvious

2008-11-09T07:56:00.002-07:00

As humans we are often guilty of stating the obvious. With the onslaught of liability considerations in the free world, this has led to some rather humorous warning labels on consumer products. A poem by David Allen Sullivan has actually skewered some of the worst. (The poem can be found in the entry below.)

Found on a box of rat poison: “Warning! Product has been found to produce cancer in mice.” I am not sure if that means we should stay away from it ourselves or if we avoid giving it to rodents.

“Warning! Shin pads cannot protect any part of the body they do not cover.” “Warning! Remove infant before folding for storage.” “Do not use hair dryer while sleeping.” “Eating pet rocks may lead to broken teeth.”

My favorite was seen on a polyester Halloween outfit: “Batman costume will not enable you to fly.”

You have to laugh or you might be tempted to finally give in and tear the warning labels off your pillows.

Last week Susan and I had the privilege of visiting with Autumn Ridge Church in Rochester, Minnesota. The Director of Missions, Becky Weins, had asked me to share a truthful message about missions that would strip away some of the stereotypes that often surround this honorable enterprise. I guess it was a bit like stating the obvious.

Here are a few of the things that I shared with the church:

Missions are really more of a posture than a specific activity. They are a way that we meet the culture around us. Missionaries recognize the cosmos is filled with sin, but they still reach out into the cultures in which they find themselves. This can take place in Zumbro Falls, Minnesota, or, San Isidro de Heredia, Costa Rica. The location is not as important as the process of leaning into the culture rather than leaning away from it.

There is still a need for missionaries to go out and for churches to engage in missions. In one sense, missions are the very nature of the church. As Stephen Freed, the International Director for IT, says, "Missions is like love or relationships. It is not a program; it is not a department; it is the very soul of the church."

The are few geographic calls in missions. God is probably more interested in the "who we are becoming" than He is with where we find ourselves. Maybe it would be good for us to be more concerned about reflecting His character and His priorities rather than being so concerned about which country we find ourselves in.

Missions are expensive. It is expensive in terms of people and resources. It is expensive in terms of money. In a day and age when the last thing we want to hear about is more financial commitments, it is hard to say, but missions really requires sacrificial giving on our part.

There was more stating of the obvious. However, as with most long sermons, some people were getting sleepy towards the end. So, I will try to avoid the same error with you this morning. May the Lord bless as you carry out your mission to live for Him this week, no matter where you may find yourself.

P.S. Admit it. Some of you really WERE tempted to take that crying infant and fold him up in the stroller! I guess there is occasionally a reason to state the obvious.

Warnings

2008-11-08T15:48:00.004-07:00

I thought that many of you might enjoy the following poem featured on The Writer's Almanac.

Warnings by David Allen Sullivan

A can of self-defense pepper spray says it may
irritate the eyes, while a bathroom heater says it's
not to be used in bathrooms. I collect warnings
the way I used to collect philosophy quotes.

Wittgenstein's There's no such thing
as clear milk rubs shoulders with a box
of rat poison which has been found
to cause cancer in laboratory mice.

Levinas' Language is a battering ram—
a sign that says the very fact of saying,
is as inscrutable as the laser pointer's advice:
Do not look into laser with remaining eye.

Last week I boxed up the solemn row
of philosophy tomes and carted them down
to the used bookstore. The dolly read:
Not to be used to transport humans.

Did lawyers insist that the 13-inch wheel
on the wheelbarrow proclaim it's
not intended for highway use? Or that the
Curling iron is for external use only?

Abram says that realists render material
to give the reader the illusion of the ordinary.
What would he make of Shin pads cannot protect
any part of the body they do not cover?

I load boxes of books onto the counter. Flip
to a yellow-highlighted passage in Aristotle:
Whiteness which lasts for a long time is no whiter
than whiteness which lasts only a day.

A.A.'ers talk about the blinding glare
of the obvious: Objects in the mirror
are actually behind you, Electric cattle prod
only to be used on animals, Warning: Knives are sharp.

What would I have done without: Remove infant
before folding for storage, Do not use hair dryer
while sleeping, Eating pet rocks may lead to broken
teeth, Do not use deodorant intimately?

Goodbye to all those sentences that sought
to puncture the illusory world-like the warning
on the polyester Halloween outfit for my son:
Batman costume will not enable you to fly.

"Warnings" by David Allen Sullivan from Strong-Armed Angels. © Hummingbird Press, 2008.

Party Line

2008-10-25T20:33:00.001-06:00

On Friday I wrote a quick email to a pastor in Illinois, copying the message to one of our missionaries in Ecuador. The pastor plans to come to Costa Rica for a quick visit in December and wants to meet up with the missionary here. I am trying to make a few arrangements for the trip for both of them.

In my email I told the pastor (whom I do not know personally) that he could call my office if he had any questions. We have one of those internet protocol (IP) phones that allows someone to dial a number in Illinois and talk directly to us in our office in Costa Rica. Modern technology never ceases to amaze me.

Within four minutes of sending the email, the pastor was talking to me from his car. He told me he received the message on his Blackberry while waiting in traffic. He also said, "I started to respond to your email, but then decided that it was safer to call than to write you while driving."

Although I am opposed to talking on phones while driving, I guess I would have to agree with his logic.

All of this made me think about how far communication has come in our thirty years in Latin America.

When we first lived in Bolivia, it took three weeks for a letter to get to us… that is, if it ever actually arrived. We lost about thirty percent of our mail. Except we didn't actually lose it - someone else did that for us.

We used to have to make reservations for international phone calls. Susan or I would call the long-distance operator and give him the information about where and whom we wanted to contact. We would then be given an approximate time when the operator would call us back. Usually that meant we had to wait by the phone for two to three hours just to have one costly phone conversation.

All of this made phone calls very, very special. We usually only made them in the case of incredible news (like when our daughters were born) or in dire emergencies.

Once, during a particularly nasty revolution in Bolivia, I called the mission's office in the US to let them know how things were going. After waiting an hour and half for the call to go through, I ended up talking to someone in the finance department. Everybody else was out of the office. The first thing I said was, "I am calling to let you know that everyone is okay. We are all safe." The response was, "Great Woody. Why wouldn't you be okay?"

Even back then, news for Latin America didn't make many headlines in the States. Most of our military and political turmoil was already over by the time people back home ever heard about it.

Sometimes I think the old way was better. It certainly gave you more time to think and pray about your response before actually sending your messages or making your phone calls.

I grew up in the country. Our house was on a "party line." This meant that we shared our phone line with ten other families. In a time and place when listening to other people's conversations was one of the best entertainment values around, you thought twice about anything you said... especially if it was about another person.

As a direct result of our party line, many people who lived along our gravel road knew just about as much about my romance with Susan as I did. It was a humbling experience to have the "lady on the next farm over" give me suggestions about how to phrase certain things to my girlfriend. Humbling, but sometimes helpful.

Yesterday I heard about a new computer product designed to help people not send emails when they are intoxicated or not at their best. After a certain hour on weekdays and all weekend, this program requires you to answer specific math problems before you can send your mail. If you do not answer the questions correctly, the computer shuts down your email program and encourages you to go to bed.

I wonder if it wouldn't be easier and more profitable in the long-run if all of our email was sent along the modern day equivalent of a party line. I bet if we knew our neighbors were reading our messages it would change the way we say certain things.

I may have nostalgia for how things used to be out in the country, but none of us who are serious about being disciples can remain rooted in the past. Each of us must consider how we can best communicate Jesus to this generation - and the next. With that in mind, we would like announce the launching of www.woodyandsusan.com , our new website. This is one more attempt on our part to clearly explain to you what we are doing and how you can partner with us.

On the website you will find a general overview of our ministry, information about our book, helpful links, and photos. We have also placed both of our blogs on the website. Now you can go to one internet address to see all of our information and stories. As Cliff Barrow used to say for Billy Graham at the end of their televised programs, "That's all the address you need."

We would like to encourage you to check the website regularly. Consider it your party line to Costa Rica and Latin America. We'll try to make sure the information you receive is as interesting as what we used to listen to back at the "old place" on the party line.

Remember, www.woodyandsusan.com. And God bless you real good.