Between Here and There

I am pondering the events of the night before.  Getting the news that our good friend died yesterday certainly caused great swings of emotions.  There was sadness, of course, and yet there was relief as he was finally made whole in Jesus.  Which leads to joy, knowing that he was a child of God. 

But if you have experienced the death of one whom you loved, it is never easy.  I know some of those moments of grief, remembering, laughter, tears, and even silence.  I am praying for the family and friends of this man who called Jesus His Lord.

As a beautiful spring morning here at the coast emerges, with little wind, no clouds and the sun shining warmly across the ocean coast, I am struck by the odd contrast.  Primarily, of how this day must look depending upon where you see it from. 

This first morning without her husband, their dad, their grandpa, with the sun breaking into their rooms, slowly waking them from an evening of restless and draining sleep.  Their morning will be different than mine. 

I am sitting in my study preparing for a Sunday worship service.  They are waking to the stark memory of the night before.  Alone.  They will worship, yes, but it will be dissimilar to what they are accustomed to.  Here on earth, we awake to face the day, to battle the tears, to grasp onto hope, and the reality and temporalness of life.

He, on the other hand, when he awoke (pardon the poor theology and the use of poetic freedom), awoke this morning to glory.  No sun, just the presence of the Son.  Waking refreshed, waking praising, waking complete.  Another gorgeous day in eternity!

Words fail, but God is.  And because we are His, we are.  Good morning all.  Between here and there.  Here between heaven and earth.

My Friend Died

A friend of mine died tonight.  Just about an hour ago.  I hadn’t seen him much as he lived in Arizona.  But he was a friend none the less.  In fact, he came to our wedding.  Even at that time he was suffering from a terminal brain disease.

We went to seminary together and stayed at the same house for the overnight times.  He was the youth pastor at the church my wife attended.  And that is kind of how we met.  If I hadn’t asked him to bring his group to be counselors for our church’s children’s camp, well. . .

Now I know death happens.   I have experienced it painful finality several times in my life, a wife, a dad, a mom, a member of our youth group, but still the news always hits you hard.  Not as hard at his immediate family, though.  I cannot begin to understand the sorrow that they are experiencing, a mere sixty minutes later.

He certainly wasn’t old; in fact he was the same age as me.  At a time when he should be still serving in a church, going on dates with his wife, spending time with his kids and grandkids, his life was slowing dripping from him like a paper cup with a hole in the bottom.  Seems so sad, so senseless.  Too soon.

Unless you knew him.  And unless you knew his God.  My friend loves Jesus.  Yes, loves.  In the present tense.  Just because he has “left” this earth, doesn’t mean he’s gone.  He is just continuing on with his relationship with the God of the Universe.  Just, as his son wrote, at a new address.  However, we look at it, he finished the race.  He did what he was called by God to do.  Be a witness for Him.

Though we will never, on this side of heaven, understand the Lord’s perfect will and timing, we rest, we trust in the fact that it is so.  God has the things of our temporal and natural world, in His complete and capable hands.

Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, ^and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?”

 I believe.  My friend believes.

So, my friend, welcome home. 

Humble

I have a very specific routine for Sunday mornings.  Pastoring a small church in a little town on the coast, I have found it important for me to follow this routine as much as possible.  I am not sure how my wife feels about it, as she has to carry most, if not all, of the burden that Sundays bring.  I know that she understands and expects me to do what I deem necessary to prepare for the morning.

That leaves her to get not only her, but our five year old son, up, cleaned, dressed, fed, out the door and into the church building, to the right classroom.  It is not like she doesn’t have anything to do once she gets there.  She teaches a Sunday school class with one youth attending.  Sounds so easy, until one realizes how specialized and specifically directed the lesson has to be.  Did I mention that she I also the worship leader?

But enough about her, because the story is about me and my routine.  After waking up and getting ready, I kiss her goodbye and head to the building.  Whether walking or driving, I now follow the road at the edge of the Pacific Ocean.  It is only about five blocks to the church building.

Arriving at the building, I will turn on the lights and the heat, if needed, in the sanctuary and the other class rooms.  I will then go into my office keeping the lights off and turn up my music compilation as loud as I choose.  I will look over my notes for the day and just listen, praise, worship.

I like music loud.  I like music that either drives me to my knees, or brings me to my feet.  I like a more rock beat and words that challenge me and lines that pierce deep into my heart and soul.  (As I write this, Rich Mullins “I See You” is blaring.)  I have never been one for the fluffy, la-la-la everything is great kind of song.  I seem to have a bent for the desperate.

I have served in or been on the pastoral staff of every church I have been a part of since becoming a Christ follower.  They have been contemporary.  They have been traditional.  They have been cutting edge. (I personally like cutting edge, but timing is everything there). 

In all of those, I have seen eager and willing workers.  I have seen quality and professional workers. I have seen old hometown and “it’s good enough” workers.  I have prayed for God to bring the energetic and younger workers when needed.  I have prayed for the technical perfect musicians and artists when needed.  I have prayed for those with knowledge and capable and able teachers when needed.

And let me tell you, when you get those, and sometimes all of those in your church, well, look out world!  And what church wouldn’t want energy, youth, willingness, quality, technical, knowledge and capable?  Just imagine what we could do!

So, pondering my routine, that I have done for about a year,  reflecting on my message, listening to music that I have chosen, and praying for this little church, and imploring the Lord to bring the qualified to us, I realized that that there is an awful lot of us, we, and I going around.

In reflection, the better prayer is for humility.  For myself, first.  Then for the congregation.  And then, for God to bring humble workers, humble servants, humble leaders.  Now that’s an ability to desire in people.

Humility is not achieved by doing it, by learning how to do it, by reading books on it.  The only way to achieve humility is to not focus on it.  But rather, focus on Jesus and focus on others.  As long as us, we, and I are more important than Him and you, it matters not what other qualities and talents are brought to the table.

Think of those whom God used.  A shepherd, a maiden, a fisherman, a man hiding from the enemy army, a prisoner.  Humility is the strongest weakness that one can possess. It can’t be earned.  It can be learned, however.  It does grow in us, as the Lord transforms us. 

We too quickly forget that our salvation is a grace gift given by the Most Gracous One.  We also forget that our spiritual maturity is up to Him as well.  Our part in all of it is to humbly receive.  As we submit and subject ourselves to His Lordship and control, He makes us into a “little Christ”.  And that term is called Christian or Christ follower.

The first church I was a part of as a follower had for it slogan “Share His Adventure”.  That occurs by following.

Does anybody really know what time it is?

I was just realizing that I have been quite silent here for the past three months.  Been busy, but silent.  The work here for the Lord at the coast has been one of great praises and also of great anguish.  It has been very humbling to see God work in the lives of people, but it has been awfully disappointing when people seem to ignore the wonders of the Lord both those inside and outside of the church.

 I have been silent because I have been quite occupied with other things.  Like ministry, family, finances, and friends.  And typical household things that need to be attended to.  Oh, and major computer crashes.  The saying is true, “there are not enough hours in a day.” 

And then I began to read a little free book on the Kindle regarding such things as being busy, managing your time, and the like.  And here is what I have gleaned. 
 

1.   There has always been the same amount of hours in a day.  Twenty-four.  Since the beginning of creation.

2.   We are in control of our own time.  Though there is much we need to do; we can, at any moment, not do those things.  I do realize that there may be consequences in doing so, but we still have the power to do so.

3.   How well we accomplish things in the time we have is up to us.  We have choices that we must make.    There is much stress with a too full schedule, but it was us who made our schedule full. We need to be more disciplined.

Here is the obvious concept when it come to managing time.

 “If you want to manage your time, the sum total hours of your daily activities should be less than twenty-four hours.”       Amy Lynn Andrews

At first that seems to be a no-duh statement.  But it applies pretty much for anything.  If you desire to stay out of debt, spend less than you earn.  If you want to lose weight eat less calories than you burn.

For me to say that I have not enough time to not write my blog really meant I failed to manage the time given me. 

 

And, we all know how precious and valuable and short time is.  Let us use it wisely.  See you soon.

 

       

Cordial

Chocolate covered cherries.  But not just any, Queen Anne artificially flavored Cordial cherries.  For as long as I could remember, my mom would buy and wrap for Christmas our own individual box of Chocolate covered cherries.  This tradition lasted deep into our adulthood. 

On Christmas Eve, as children, we would get the opportunity to select one present under the tree and open it, thus heightening the already anticipated next morning of present mania.  As I recall, we could choose whatever gift we wanted to, but in reality, it seemed the only ones ever selected were the ever famous rectangle box.  I believe now that our choice was between that gift or no gift.

Unwrapping the gift disclosed the all too familiar contents.  Yep, Queen Anne Chocolate Cherries.  Who knew?  Oh yeah, we all did.  But that in no way would dampen the Eve of Christmas.  There they were in all of their glory.  That red box with some candy images on the outside, and we must not forget the one that looked like a bite was taken out of it revealing the cherry with it sumptuous juices running from it.

And even though it was time for bed, and we were all nestled in our footie pajamas, we would request ever so humbly, “Please sir, might I have but a nibble?”  To which, the sir would gruffly respond, “It’s late, but if you think you have to, you can have one piece.” 

Well, of course we think we have to.  I mean, who puts a whole box of chocolates in front of a kid and expect them not to want any?  That would be my parents.  So, after the all clear signal, I would ever so gently open the box top, which usually would involve tearing it, because that glue they would use was pretty sticky.

And there they were, six morsels of yummy all snuggled and compartmented in that top tray of plastic.  Now the trick was trying to decide which piece would be my first.  That was the easy part.  I know that you are thinking.  Easy because they all look alike, factory made and all. 

Not correct, my friend. I failed to tell you the sad twist this plot of candy woe.  Our Queen Anne cherries weren’t just any Queen Anne cherries.  Ours were Queen Anne cherries at a discounted price because they were purchased the season before, and sat for months safely tucked away like the hidden treasure that they were.

And when that lid was opened, those individual cherries looked like they had been in a war zone.  The top of the chocolate were crushed as if a thumb had pressed down upon it, giving it that recognizable dented look.  Usually, there would be a couple that seemed to have a bit of a white waxy tint to them.  And the juices, oh those precious juices.  They appeared to have leaked out into a congealed glob of hardened goo fusing the chocolate to the plastic. And you knew that those would be extra chewy in a, “it’s still technically candy” sort of a way.

I mentioned that it was easy to decide which piece would be my first.  Because out of the two stacked trays, there was always at least one, one who made it our unscathed. And there is was, the perfect specimen of Queen Ann Chocolate covered cherries.  I pause to remember this moment, and then popped it in my mouth chewing three or four times before the anticlimactic swallow.

This tradition was played out year after year after year.  After my father passed, and we kids had grown, my mother would send us a box for Christmas.  And I am fairly certain; we got one even the last Christmas before she died. 
 
I never did have the heart to tell her that I don’t care for chocolate covered cherries too much.  But it was her tradition and she liked giving them, so I liked receiving them.  This is a great Christmas memory of mine. 

Merry Christmas Mom and Dad.  We are doing fine.  And to all, a good night.

Where Has All the Ocean Gone?

I got a reasonably early start to my day today.  After a few minutes doing some cleaning up at the church building, I drove to my “second office”.  This is the spot with a little gravel pullout and it overlooks the Pacific Ocean.  It has become my second office for a couple of reasons.  One, it is a beautiful view with the vastness of the ocean and the waves crashing onto the rocky shore.  And two, it is one of the only places that my cell phone has service. 

And as I park head in to my spot positioning my car between the two big boulders protecting people like me from Thelma and Louise-ing it over the cliff, I look up to  see a familiar site, but it looks starkly different this morning.

There is a low fog that has moved in blocking my view of the miles wide span of the ocean.  Visibility was at about twenty feet or so.  I cannot see the horizon, the sky or any of the blue that is our majestic Pacific.  I can barely make out some of the rocky parts of the shore and the white of the waves splashing over them.

It was a very bizarre sight and almost looked very foreign to me as if I was parked somewhere else.  But I was sure I was at the right spot.  There are the boulders fencing off the edge of the cliff.  There is the park bench that I sit at from time to time as weather allows.  There is the all too familiar No Camping sign.  Yep, this is the spot all right.  I just can’t see the ocean due to the fog. 

I can’t see the waves coming in.  I can’t see the calmness of the waters connecting horizontally with the blueness of the day sky.  No boats visible, no caps of white, no glimmer from the sun reflecting off of the waters.  But, all of that being said, the ocean was still out there.  It was just for the moment obstructed.

There are times in our faith when it seems that God is eerily quiet, as if He had stepped out for a bit to fetch His newspaper from the porch.  Or maybe it seems longer than that, perhaps He is taking a long overdue vacation.  Or worst case scenario, maybe He left and doesn’t want to be friends anymore, because of something offensive that we had done.  Maybe He just got bored with us.  After all I am not very interesting.

But be of good cheer.  He has not left, He has not abandoned, He still wants us, and He still likes us.  Sometimes, for whatever reason, He seems quiet.  And sometimes, His quietness seems to coincide with our needing Him the most.  What’s that all about?

But quietness doesn’t mean that He is gone.  Just because you can’t see Him, Just because you can’t feel Him, just because you don’t sense His presence or His direction for your life, does not mean that He has vanished or He is apathetic to your situation.

He is there, just as I knew the ocean was there.  Even if I couldn’t see it.  I knew the ocean was there because the place I was at was where I have seen it many times over.  I knew because all of the indicators were there. The pull out, the boulders, the sign, the rocky cliff and the beached waves.

My advice for you is this.  Whenever you can’t seem to see God and His working in your life, check your surroundings.  Make sure you are in the place where you know you have experienced Him before.  Are the things around you those indicators that this is where you have met Him before?  If not, then go to that spot. He will be there.  Is so, and visibility seems limited, you may have to wait until the fog has lifted.

Up All Night

So, I am here in my office praying without ceasing and writing this blog post.  Yes I can do both, as we are called to be in an always state of worship and communication with God. It is more of a constant attitude of living than an actual all the time on your knees.  Although, I will admit, that wouldn’t be half bad, but I don’t think I am that spiritual.

But tonight, I am praying and reading, praying and listening to music, praying and writing.  Our church is having a 24 Hours of Prayer for our nation, our leaders, and for the upcoming election.

We designated half hour increments where people could sign up and either come to the building to pray or to pray at home.  The idea was to have a continual prayer being lifted up to God for His will for our country.

I am pleased that we had twenty people sign up for this event.  And as you could guess, the majority of the time slots left empty were in the wee hours of the night and morning.  We do have, however someone in the 10:30pm-11:00pm and the 1:30am-2:00am slot taken.  And we start off bright and early beginning at 4:00am.

Left empty were about eight and a half hours in between those times.  Which is why you have me, here at the church, camped out to fill those times.  And that is why I am praying and writing.   I have my cot to rest, my music to contemplate, my reading to inspire, and my writing to inform.

This is an important time.  While I will concede that all elections are important, this one seems more so.  It is true that this one is about ideologies, it is about direction, it is about differences. 

This country is seemingly split right down the middle, with half of the people on one side and half on the other. And it is apparent that each side doesn’t like the other side at all.  And to me, it sort of looks like hate.

So what is a person to do?  What is the Christian to do? And specifically what am I, a Christian, to do?  Most candidates on each side talk about out good of a practicing “insert your faith here” they are, but seem to also discount certain views their faith may have for the sake of the party line.  And I am talking both sides.

But as Christians, we are told to be involved. We are to be an example of subjecting to government authorities (Romans 13:1).  We are to pay our taxes (Romans 13:6).  We are to render to all what is due them (Romans 13:7).  Okay, just read Romans 13 yourselves.  And so we are to participate and vote.  But for who?

All I can say is that you should, as a Christian, vote for those whose values and morals line up with the Bible.  And for those whose values line up with your own.  I know what mine are.  And that is how I vote.

But we are never called to hate, cast disparaging remarks, toss insults and disrespect.  Instead, we are to pray for our leaders.  And that is what our church is doing. And that is what I am doing. I am praying. And writing.

Struggles

So here I sit and am trying to work on my sermon for this week and I am really struggling. . .  This is how I am going to introduce my sermon on Sunday, and yes I am struggling.  And the irony of it has not gone unnoticed as the message is on Romans 7 about Paul’s struggles.

I want to present the issue, not in an expository fashion, and not in a doctrinal fashion, but in a practical fashion.  Because in reality, it is how we live out what we believe that makes what we believe believable. 

There are some Christians who know a lot when it comes to verses of the Bible, and doctrines, and muse deep in theology.  And on the outset, one would make the assumption that because of that knowledge they life and lifestyle would be “rock” solid.  But as it turns out, I got a completely different realization of how young in the faith these pillars really are with some seemingly insignificant issues. And it has taken me aback a bit. 

And then I visited with a family who are the sweetest, most loving people, living out their exemplary faith so spot on, I am a bit envious.  And then we started talking doctrine, and wow, there were some “out in left field” beliefs.  And these were the basics that all believers, even young ones, should have a grasp in, even if only a simple understanding.

Which brings me to my struggle.  I recognize that I am not a saint, in the I’ve got life and doctrine and holiness all figured out, and I also recognize that people are people and we’re not perfect, but still it makes me wonder if we are getting it.

Are my remarks, the studies I have been leading, the sermons that I have preached, merely words that people hear and then file in the brain, but they never find their way into application and practice into daily living?  Knowledge is fine, and understanding is good, but if it doesn’t change our lifestyle and grow us to be more like Him, then it seems our speaking is in vain.

But in some, I have seen change.  Many are serving and doing in a manner that has warmed my heart.  They are actively growing and are sharing their faith with friends and with the community.  And the conversations that we have had have been encouraging and refreshing as well. And we, I hope, are becoming good friends.

Not only am I struggling to put into words a message that helps us live out that which we know, but I as well wonder how far I have come since this grand experiment of simply trusting God and not man for my needs started some two and a half years ago.

In every way he has been true to His promise of provision.  We have never missed a bill payment or a meal(although it wouldn’t hurt if we skipped some desserts now and then). And when decisions needed to be made, He certainly provided seamless answers.  With all of that, one would think that I was just coasting with this faith thing right into glory. 

But when you submit to Him for meeting daily needs, He does just that.  He meets them daily.  Just enough.  Sometimes I wish it were more.  I wish we were in a better position to save some money for a rainy day, which happens a lot here.  But that wasn’t the promise.  No, the key word in the promise is “daily”.  By the way, my wife, being an English major, really hates it when I use quotation marks. 

So, daily I must trust, daily I must seek, daily I must rest, and daily I must place my hope in the Ancient of Days. He has seen us through me quitting my job. He has seen us through my wife getting a job.  He has seen us through me accepting the call to pastor.  He has seen us through my wife quitting her job.  He has seen us through our life in the “yellow house”, in the “blue house” and in the “gray house”, as my son calls them.

He has seen us through leaving a church we love for another church we have come to love.  He has seen us through leaving old friends for but a season and He has seen us through the making of new friends for hopefully a lifetime. 

So I struggle, because I’m human, and yet I still press on and trust that the One who has seen us through will continue.

From My View

I am sitting here in my office at church finishing up some thoughts for next week’s message. Looking out the window, I can’t help but notice another gorgeous day at the coast.  The sun is out, a coastal breeze is blowing.

From my vantage point, I am also watching all of the vehicles traveling either north or south on the Pacific Coast Highway.  The town that we now live in is small, about 750 people.  And we are right in the middle between two larger and touristier towns.  We must drive the half hour in either direction to go grocery shopping, to a hospital, to shop at a chain department store, and for haircuts, office supplies, home supplies, etc. 

And so it is with these cars, trucks, RV’s, motorcycles, and bicycles that I am watching today.  They are all going somewhere and somewhere else.  This isn’t necessarily a place to stop; it is more a place to drive through.  While we do have six or so motels, and six or so restaurants, and six or so specialty shops, and six or so major events or festivals (from the Celtic festival to the mushroom festival), in general it is a point on their GPS to mark how much farther they have left to go on their travels.

Which brings me back to my main point of thought.  They are all going somewhere.  They are coming from and heading to a destination.  And as I watch all of the different style of automobiles and the different colors, and different shapes I might add, they do all have some things in common.  The first is, as I have already pointed out, they are all going somewhere.

The second, and most important, those driving and/or riding in these wheeled means of transportation, are people.  And as Christians, we are in the people business.  I will never forget what my pastor in Washington said as he came to church well before the service on a dark winter morning.  He said that he was taking a drive and noticed all of the houses on the hill with all of their porch lights on or a couple of lights on in the house as they were getting ready for their day.  And then he said, “I was struck by the fact that each one of those light represented people living there, people for whom my Lord died for.”

And today, I sit here watching the cars go by and recognize that in each of them is someone that my God thought enough of to send His Son to die for them, in order that they may have a forever life with Him.  And if they are that important to God, ought not they be important to us?  So I take a moment and pray for those people containers zipping by, okay moving at twenty-five miles per hour by, knowing that in them sit people who need to know and to hear the Love of God.

??????

Today, as we ponder, remember and pause to pray for all the people affected by 9/11, let us never forget these two things.

1.  God loves life.  He loved it so much that He provided a way that we who are made of dust, could spend forever with Him.  We call that eternal life.  He created all things and through Him all things are sustained.  When tragedies happened resulting in the loss of human life, we also should recognize that sadness and the sorrow.  We, as believers, have a wonderful opportunity to spread to the world that God love them and God desires them and will give them not only forgiveness of sins but life, abundant life, eternal life.

 2.  God is in control.  Though things may seem to be crashing in around us, we can have the confidence that all that happens does not go unnoticed by God.  He sees, He knows, He cares, and He is in control.  While we may never be able to answer the whys regarding horrible events, we can, however, remember and rejoice that our God, our King, our Savior still and will forever be seated on the Throne and He reigns.  He reigns. He reigns. He reigns.  Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

When we are struggling ourselves, let us remember that God loves us and He is in control.  Even when we are having a hard time “seeing” that, He is there, and He cares.