Seek

The other night I had a dream. My dreams lately have been very realistic. In the past, they had enough of oddity in them that I could distinguish the difference from being awake and actually being asleep. You know the type, everything is somewhat normal and then there is a person with antlers or I am flying. Not really flying but hovering over the ground as I move from here to there. But as I said lately they have been so realistic that the only reason I know that I was dreaming is the fact that I woke up.


In this particular dream, I was leading a young adult Bible study and I posed the question, “What are we to be about?” After looking at a silent group for a while, I quoted what Jesus said. “For the son of Man has come to seek and save that which was lost.” The group then agreed to that point and I awoke from my dream with that verse planted deep in my mind.

The three words in this statement that are very poignant for me are Seek, Save, and Lost. Granted, I have heard, quoted, and even preached on this verse and the preceding story of Zaccheus. This time I was again reminded of what the purpose of that verse is. And now, some definitions.

Seek- to search for, strive after, to desire
Save- to deliver from danger, suffering, etc.
Lost- being destroyed, to lose utterly

So if seeking is a part of saving the lost, then that becomes an active, purposeful event. It is the going out to find in order to save from lostness. Now, I know that there are “lost” people everywhere, but this seems to imply, at least to me, that there is an intentional movement into the places that the “lost” are. It is not waiting for them to come to us. It is not a noticing of them as we go through our day. It is going into their world and discovering the predicament that leads to this lostness. It is by no means passing judgment. It is understanding through observation.

I am not sure how to deal with the word “lost” as it pertains to people. In a physical sense, I know that we can be lost without realizing we are lost, thinking all the while we know either where we are at or where we are heading. It is when I recognize that I am indeed lost I can begin to make changes to undo being lost. I will discuss the theory of lostness at a different date.

For now, I will attempt to “seek” those that are lost. Try to go to them. To see how they see. The next couple of weeks, I will go out and strive after those whom the Son of And came for. For after all, I was there once. And that is what “we are to be about.”

Saint Lottie Hornbeck part two

Once upon a time, there was a piece of land whose span was five acres. In the back of this property full of weeds and blackberry bushes and on top of a little hill was a building. This building was a church. It was a small building. It was a small church. People came and went from this small church for years. After a while, this little church became smaller and smaller as fewer and fewer people came to worship on Sundays.


But one person, named Lottie Hornbeck, still came. She brought with her every Sunday, four residents from a special needs adult foster home to this small church building. She also brought with her every Sunday, a cassette recorder and a taped message from Chuck Swindoll.

Every Sunday, Lottie and four friends had a church service listening to a recorded sermon in a building on a hill that everybody else had seemed to have forgotent. But not Lottie. And certainly not God.

Lottie kept coming to the small building to have worship services every Sunday for a long, long time. She did not know what else to do. She went to a place that helped churches. She said, “ I have been meeting in a small building up on a hill for a while and nobody else is coming, other than myself and four special needs friends. I do not what to do. Can you help me?”

The person at the place that helped churches thought and then said, “Yes, I may be able to help." The person helped Lottie get in touch with a group of six people who were meeting together to study the Bible. Then, they got in touch with a man who said that he would come and share a worship service with them every Sunday. And that is what they did.

So Lottie, her four friends, six people from a Bible Study, and a pastor begin to meet every Sunday in the small church building up on top of the hill on a piece of land whose span was five acres. They all had a good time and enjoyed one another.

Over time, something wonderful began to happen. The little church with twelve people began to grow. Soon there were twenty people. Then forty. Then a hundred. More and more people began coming to the small church building that they realized that a bigger building needed to be built.

So they cleared the weeds and blackberry bushes and built a bigger building. And people still kept coming. The church grew and grew. More people were happy to come every Sunday to listen to a message. Lottie was happy as well.

Some years later, Lottie went to heaven to be with Jesus. But the church and people kept meeting every Sunday. And they still do, to this very day. All because of Lottie who didn’t want the building to be empty. All because of Lottie, And God. And Chuck Swindoll tapes.

All I Owned

You promised me that it would be better
Better than I’ve ever known
I laid my heart heavy by your throne
It was all I had
It was all I owned.

You said that if I trust in you I’d see
See more than I ever would
And I opened my eyes as I could
You are all that I see
You are all that I should.

You said if I would only love again
That I could be so fulfilled
And the hurt in my heart would be stilled
And I finally laughed
And I’m finally thrilled.

You promised me that it would be better
Better than I’ve ever known
I laid my heart heavy by your throne
It was all I had
It was all I owned.

Freebird

My son has a routine when it comes to morning time. It generally will go like this. He wakes up from a restful night of sleep. He will usually wake up happy. Sometimes he wakes up before we do. He will begin jabbering. My assumption is he is sharing his dreams with his stuffed animals. Or he will act out a scene from his favorite VeggieTales show. After a few minutes of that, I will come into his room and he will want a couple of books to read. His will sit in his crib/toddler bed and peruse his literary choices for a while. When he is ready to get up, he will politely shout “Up”. And after getting dressed, we will begin our day.


On this particular day, my boy woke up just as he has for the past two years, 11 months. And he began his jabbering. My wife was up earlier and getting ready for a brunch with some friends. I am waking up and listening to the boy trying to understand what today’s conversation is all about. As I get up and dressed for the day, my wife peeks in on the boy and calls my name to come to his room. My boy calls out my name as well.

As I come into his room, I am greeted by my boy who is standing in his crib/toddler bed. Oh, did I mention that he is naked? As in ‘buck”. We are talking jaybird naked. And I am almost certain that he did not go to bed that way. Yes, because, we put him in his yellow and blue “Looney Tunes” zip up footed pajamas. Which, by the way, were nowhere to be seen. And he was pointing to his tummy and others things.

After getting him up and fully dressed, we discovered the pajamas and diaper underneath his blanket. Not too much damage. It was funny to walk into that scene. He amuses us quite often. But the one-piece zip up pajamas was our last line of defense from a clothing optional boy in the morning. He has, in the past, pulled his pajama bottoms off, but this took some effort on his part.

Here now is my rendition of the moment from the perspective of my boy.

“Well that was a good sleep. Hello Bear. How are you? I’m fine. I dreamed about trains. Sloooow trains. Fast trains. I think I will look at some books. But I am a little bored with them. I need to put my order in for some new ones. With cool pictures. Can’t wait until I can actually read words. I know my letters. Sometimes I get “o” and “0” mixed up. I sure like these pajamas. They have a rabbit on them. And a zipper. I am getting pretty good at zippers. Watch. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Look, there is my tummy. Hello tummy. There is my knee. Hello knee. Oh, I think I am a little wet. Yep. Hello arm. I can pull off my sleeves. Watch. (pajamas drop). Hey the diaper fell as well. Cool. Now if I can only get my feet out of the pajamas. There I did it! Woohoo! I will stick them here under the blanket. I can jump. Real high. Watch. Wow. I feel free. Oh, hi Mom. What? You are calling for Dad? Let me help. What is his first name again? Oh yeah, ‘hey T.’ Oh, hi Dad. Look at my tummy. And that. Can I get up now?”

Love Musings

Yesterday I saw old love. A husband and wife at lunch. She was in a wheelchair, very shaky and she would randomly drift of to sleep. He ordered for her and woke her when the meal was ready. He had to cut her food and at times feed her all the while waking her up and reminding her of where she was and what she was eating. You could tell it was wearing thin on the man. It was hard work and the pain and sadness was etched upon his face. I wondered how many years he has been doing this. I wondered how many years he would have to continue this. Sadder still was to realize he had to watch his wife deteriorate into a shell of what she used to be. But love forces us to carry on. Love forces us to bear whatever burden we have to bear in the name of love. No matter how hard.


Today I saw new love. A boyfriend and girlfriend at coffee. Fairly new at it, I am guessing. A lot of giggling and a lot of awkward pauses. Hoping to say the right things Hoping to perhaps touch a hand in a passing gesture. Each one sending out love clues hoping that the other will catch on. They would laugh at each other’s jokes and would share with each other about their “crazy” family. Their conversation tentative at first but with each passing moment a little more comfortable and a little more probing.

What is it about love that so captivates us? And I am talking about true love. There is indeed a great difference between true love and lust, infatuation, companionship, or whatever. True love always costs something. True love always demands something. True love will not be satisfied until it absorbs everything it can in the relationship. True love, I guess you can say, is greedy. True love is relentless. True love will not take anything less than everything

Saint Lottie Hornbeck

When I was in seminary, I had an assignment to interview people in regards to their testimony. A testimony is merely the story of how the individual became a Christian. In the life of every Christian, there is a point when they place faith and trust in Jesus as personal Savior. For some people, it comes later in life, as a teenager or adult. Yet for others it is at an early age, five or six for example. A testimony will have a part about the time before the person was a Christian; the moment they became a Christian (conversion); and life after the conversion. What follow is the testimony of Lottie Hornbeck, a most remarkable woman.


Lottie was 70 years old when I asked her to share her testimony. The reason I had chosen her was for a story that I will share later. Lottie was a sweet, kind, and wonderful lady. She had a quiet, humble, and strong faith in her God. A simple woman, yet in that simplicity there was a great amount of rich wisdom and strength that was portrayed in her character.

As I sat with her to ask a few questions about her conversion she told me that it was a long time ago and not very interesting. And then she proceeded.

She said that she was about five years old when friends and family were gathered at her house for an occasion. There on the table was a plate of cookies. Lottie said that they looked so good and she really wanted one, so when the adults were in the other room, she reached up and took one. After eating it, she had this horrible realization that she had done wrong. And she also wondered how God could love a person as evil as her, one that would steal a cookie. She said that she somehow felt she was separated from God and wanted so desperately to undo what she had done. She wanted to replace the cookie that she had stolen. But she couldn’t because she didn’t know how to make cookies. So it was there, in the kitchen, under the table that she asked God to forgive her and trusted Jesus as her savior.

“I told you it wasn’t very interesting”, Lottie said. I was speechless. Over a cookie, I thought. That was amazing. Her whole life changed at five over snitching a cookie. I have certainly done a lot worse in my life than taking a cookie. So began the new life of Lottie.

Let me clarify and qualify a few things. It is not that God would hate a child such as Lottie that was the turning point. Because, we cannot fathom that God would or could do such a thing. But it is in Lottie’s realization that her action hurt God and because of that hurt, she felt a sense of separation from God. And in that realization was the understanding that she needed to make it right. And the only way of making it right was a twofold response. One, somehow there needed to be a replacement for the cookie. And two, there was the need for God to forgive her. Since she could not replace the cookie, somehow there still needed to be something or someone to takes its place. Enter Jesus. And for her evil actions (Lottie’s words not mine), forgiveness needed to be granted. Enter God.

This is the story of Saint Lottie, part one.

Crisis

There is a lot of unrest in the world right now. Yes, I am aware that there is always unrest. But this is a little different. And we are not sure of the ramifications of this uneasiness. At least not yet.

I am not going to be a fear monger here, but certain events and situations concern me. I am also not going to espouse a political view. I am just going to speak about the issue that concerns me.

As I write, there is turmoil in the Middle East and Northern Africa. Yes, I am aware that there is nothing surprising in that statement as there has always been turmoil there. It started thousands of years ago. But this turmoil seems to be spreading, or isolating.

In the past few weeks we have the following:

1. The overthrowing of the government in Tunisia (leader fled)
2. The change of power in Lebanon (Hezbollah backed prime minister)
3. The change in Egypt due to the protests (President won’t seek re-election)
4. Protests in Yemen (President will not seek re-election)
5. Protests in Jordan (King dismissed entire government)
6. Protests in Algeria
7. Syria (said they will push for reform preempting protests, hopefully)
8. And, as if I need to mention, the volatility of Iraq, Afghanistan, and Iran.

What will become of these events, I do not know. I hope it will be for the better. But I am not naïve enough to think everything will be nice, rosy, or cuddly now. History has proven that to be different. But hopefully, things will stabilize soon.

There is one country, though, that I am sure have their eyes wide open. They are different than the other countries in that region. Different in government, religion, history, and attitude.

Again, at this time, I will not get into any political opinions. At least not yet. But there is something unique when it comes to unrest in the Middle East. All eyes seem to turn there when it appears that there is trouble brewing. So once again, I can’t help but think about Israel.

They don’t have too many allies. They seem somewhat isolated over there. It is a very small strip of land, but somehow, very significant. There is a lot of history there. And a history that is connected to my faith. Regardless of views, Israel and the people of Israel have a role in how faith and history is viewed. Some believe that the culmination of the world as we know it will happen in that region of volatility.

All I know is that I am aware and concerned. But that will have to wait. I can’t think about that now. The Super Bowl is on Sunday.

Writer's Block

Sometimes, I don’t know what to write. Sometimes, I don’t know what to say. I mean, do you really want to know about my day? Especially when it is anticlimactic. Sometimes, there is just nothing to write. And yet, there are those moments when the perfect line is there and the most amusing story has been observed that one cannot help but write.


This however, is not one of those times. I got nothing. I have felt like a slug (I apologize to slugs everywhere for the comparison) for the past few days. I feel like there is nothing to say, or at least nothing interesting. Don’t know how the professionals do it. But honestly, if I wrote daily about the events at home, the only thing I would have to change is the date.

We get up, have breakfast, watch Sesame Street, Clifford and Word World. Then we play for a bit. I get some, the least about of some as I can do, housework. Put the boy down for a nap, he may or may not sleep, check out the breaking world news and the breaking Facebook posts, and then get some lunch. Woo hoo. That is my day.

Maybe the issue is not writing, but rather what to write. I seem to be all over the board with this. Perhaps I should stick with one genre or another. Will it be amusing events with the boy and family? How about the struggles of finding ones’ place in the world? Philosophy and deep thought musings? Observations regarding faith and God? Which should it be? I just cannot decide.

This dilemma is not really a dilemma at all if I stop and think about it. After all the name of my blog is “Sometimes the Grass is Greener”. And the intent was to “attempt to take a risk and to step out in faith and to live”.

So I write, and I write about stuff that happens, either in real life or in my mind. Life isn’t wrapped up solely into cute little areas of comical stories or deep heart wrenching discoveries of the soul. Life, if truly lived, gets messy, confusing, and convoluted.

But it is life and the only one I know. Until I change it. Guess it is time to mow the green grass. And maybe weed a little.