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.

Twenty Days

It has been twenty days since we made the move to the coast.  Well, three quarters of a move.  My wife is still finishing up her job at the University this month.  She has been doing the weekend commute like we used to.  Starting in September, we will all be here and just here.  One house and one church to serve in.  My assumption is that we will still be quite busy, but we will only be busy in one direction.

Moving in has been quite interesting.  First, we had to determine what we were going to bring over here and what we were going to put in storage.  Going from a four-bedroom house to a two-bedroom house had its challenges.  Downsizing.  Significant downsizing.  It is quite alarming to know how much “stuff” one has and, for all intents and purposes, one doesn’t need.

Our house here at the coast is a two-story house with one big area upstairs, which has become my son’s bedroom and play area.  Oh yeah, and the closets are upstairs as well.  My wife has one and I have the other.  They are both four feet wide by three feet deep.  Downstairs, there is our bedroom, which our full size bed fits nicely with about twenty inches to spare on each side.

 Our front room has enough space for a love seat and a chair.  And a little wood stove in the corner.  The kitchen is about eight feet by thirteen feet.  Bathroom small, but has a claw foot tub. Which sounds neat until you shower, and the curtain begins to close in on you.

There is a little deck on the outside and a small yard, and by small I mean smaller than one side of our old house.  Square footage for the entire house is 1200.  600 sq. feet upstairs and 600 sq. feet downstairs.  That footage also includes the little garage slash laundry room slash storage room.

Then we have the sun room.  Ah, the sun room.  Small and slanted, but housing the kitchen table, two sitting chairs and a plant table.  But the sun room was the selling point of the whole place.  That, and the natural lighting throughout the house.  Oh, and all of the flowers and foliage. 

Our house from the outside looks like a little barn or garage, but inside, it is becoming our home.  We are learning to make due with small and are trying to develop a simple lifestyle.  The town of 750 we are in has one grocery store, which is a bit expensive, so our main shopping trips are twenty-five miles away going either north or south. 

 

But, here we are.  And here is where we truly believe God wants us to be in this season of our lives.  we already miss our friends terribly, but soon our little cottage house here will be open for guests.  You just have to like being close, crowded, and cramped.  But here is home.  Welcome.

 

 

Eighteen

Two years ago I quit my job.  I wanted to get away from off-price retail for a while.  I wanted to spend more time with my son and wife.  I wanted to try to do my own business of some sort.  And I really wanted to step out in faith and trust God for our needs.

So how did all of that work out?  Well, it has been two years and I am ready to start a new phase of life, trust, and adventure. Since October, we have been commuting to our little coastal church every weekend.  And after taking July off, we are about to embark on a new season of ministry and move there to pastor full time.

As exciting as that may be, and as much as I am anticipating serving there, a reality is nagging at me.  And it is my house.  Our house.  For almost six years, my lovely T. and I have lived here as husband and wife.  And as she would say, she has spent that time re-doing the place and decorating the place and it was just starting to come together the way that she was enjoying.  So I know it will be a little strange for her to leave it and move in to a new place, a new town, a new environment, and, even though we have been there for a bit, a new church.

For me, this house and I go back a little longer, eighteen years in fact.  And as we are getting ready to move there is both excitement and trepidation.  First, moving is hard.  Physically.  There are a lot of things to pack.  Over the years it seems like “stuff” keeps accumulating.  Eighteen years of “stuff”.  Not only “stuff”, but life as well.  Eighteen years worth.

This house is the longest place I have ever called home in my life.  Many things have happened here.  This house has seen a lot.  I am glad the walls can’t talk, but here is what this house has witnessed.

The removal of 70’s style orange shag carpets with just a Leatherman.   The sanding and staining of hardwood floors.  Twice.  A new roof.  Twice.  Wallpaper up and wallpaper down.  A red wall in the front room and a yellow wall in the kitchen.  The remodeling of a bathroom and a guest room.  A wall put up for my studio.

Apple and apple juice.  Grapes and grape juice.  66 rose bushes and the removal of 66 rose bushes.  Dogs, cats, a bass fish, and a rooster.  Saturn cars, Ford Ranger trucks, new Ford Focus, new Honda Civic, new Audi A3, Honda CRV, and Nissan Altima.  Plus a Mustang II, and other sundry vehicles, both running and not.

This house has witnessed three children grow up into adulthood, three children married and three grandchildren.  And one on the way. 

And the sudden death of my wife. And months of a sad and lonely man. 

And God’s grace and redemption for that sad and lonely man in finding true love with my precious T.  Our marriage almost six years ago.  New curtains, brightly colored walls.  And a nursery. 

A tough pregnancy and emergency surgery.   My beloved, ten minutes away from dying. A doctor who saved my wife’s life, and the life of my little boy.  Born two months early and three pounds.  And his near death twice during the first week of his life. 

And now he’s a loud, energetic and lap running four year old.  And she’s my wife for the rest of my days.  Laughter, love, comfortable and grateful.  Friends.

Bible studies, prayers, rejoicing and weeping.  All in the name of Jesus.  Oh yeah, and He has been here.  The whole time.  Eighteen years.  This was His house.  He used it and its occupants the way He wanted.  There are a lot of memories here.  There is a lot I am going to miss.  I love this house.  It was my home.

And as we are packing up and getting ready to move to the coast to a new place, I can’t help but become a television show in its final episode, with one last look before I turn out the light and close the door.  Thanks.

Eighteen years.  That’s a long time.  I have more packing to do.  And I need to get ready for the next eighteen years.

The Saga of the Red Balloon

After accepting the call to be the full time pastor at the church of a small coastal town, my wife and son and I will be settling down for a month back at our home before moving.  We were planning to take July off no matter what, as we needed to get some things done and see some friends.  Which brought us to Klamath Falls.  Which bring me to our story.

We had a little bit of time on Saturday to look around the town before going over to our friends house and having a barbeque, so we found ourselves downtown for a look.  They were having a Saturday Farmer’s Market and we got out to peak at the booths and the items for sale.  It was a typical market with produce, hand made crafts, candles, scarves, honey, etc.

At some point my four year old marches up to the herbs and spices booth and says, as matter of factly, to the seller of said herbs and spices, “I would like a green balloon please.” 

This was sweet on many levels.  One, he was so polite in his asking.  Two, he knows the difference between customers and those employees who are in charge.  Three, he was quite decisive and specific. 

Oh yeah, and four, there were no balloons anywhere at the booth, let alone green ones.  The kind lady said, “You do, do you?”  She then excused herself and went to some to the other booths before coming back and telling my son, “They have some balloons at the far booth with the red awning.”

So off we went to find a balloon.  Arriving at the “Balloon” booth, my son again asks politely, “I would like a green balloon, please.”’  “All we have are red ones.  Would you like a red one?”  “Oh yes, please.”  We do have a polite little guy.

The lady proceeded to tie the balloon on to his wrist, and after a “Thank you” off we went heading back to our car.  Walking though the market, our son a couple of times exclaimed to those passing by, “See my red balloon?” 

As we got to the sidewalk, my boy no longer wanted the red balloon tied to his wrist.  He wanted to hold the ribbon in his hand.  My wife was explaining to him that he would have to be very careful and to hold on tight and not let go of the ribbon.  And there he was, ever so carefully, holding the ribbon that held the red balloon in his tiny little hand.  So excited was he.  And then. . . .

It all happened so fast.  His little fingers on his little hand opened.  The red balloon with the ribbon began to lift in the air.  My wife did make a valiant attempt to grab the ribbon as it floated up.  But, to no avail.  The red balloon went higher and higher into the air.

My son’s face said it all.  First, there was a look of “what just happened?”  Then there was shock.  And then, the tears.  “My balloon!  It’s in the air!  Get it!  Can you get it please!  Up there!” 

My son is known for his pathos, and this was no exception.  His weeping and wailing and moaning and mourning were too much for any parent with a conscience to handle.  My wife knelt down by our sobbing and grieving son doing her best to console him and to also remind him of what she had said about holding tightly the ribbon. 

The tears, however, continued.  And continued.  And continued with the intermittent, “My balloon!  My red balloon!  It’s gone!  Up in the air!”

 Prior to getting into the car, we made our way to Safeway to buy some water and juice as the temperature was approaching the 90’s.  At the register, my boy explained his plight to the cashier.  “I lost my red balloon.  It went up in the sky.  It’s gone.”

“Well, we will just have to get you another one.  Would you like another balloon?”  He responded, “Yes, please.”   Taking a red balloon from a display and tying it to his wrist, she said, “There you go.”  “Thank you,” he said. (I told you he was polite).  And off we went.  And everybody was happy.  Wait. . . .

Though he seemed happy to have another red balloon, he was, for the next half hour, still sad and weepy about his other red balloon that was lost.  I am not going to lie when I say that I was getting a bit frustrated at his continual mention of his lost red balloon when he had a perfectly good, new and better looking balloon on his wrist.   My wife mentioned that he seems to have real concern over the lost red balloon.  Then things seem to settle back down again.

The next night, he woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.  No doubt it was due to being in a motel and it was still hot, he snuggled into our bed.  And for the next forty-five minutes, he and I had some wonderful conversation with each other and performed some skits with his teddy bear.  Then, almost out of the blue, he began to softly quiver and said in the saddest whisper I have ever heard, “My red balloon is up in the sky and it is lost.”

It became as clear as it could be to me at that very moment.  My boy was sad, distressed, and troubled over a lost red balloon.  It was not because he lost it.  It was not because he no longer had it.  It was not because it had floated away. 

My boy was concerned about the well being of the red balloon.  It was far away from anybody.  It was all alone.  My wife was right that he was concerned because the balloon was lost. Out there in the air and nobody was able to get it.  Poor little red balloon all by itself.

 Jesus said that, “the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.

My son of me, desired to save that which was lost.

  In Jesus’ case, He was speaking about people.  My son was speaking of a red balloon.  And if my son has such concern over lost little red balloon, how much more should I or we be concerned over people who are just as lost?

That'll preach.  And I will, on August 5th, at the coast.

Drum Roll

At this point I would like to give you an update.  No bells, no whistles, no fanfare.  Well, maybe just a bit of fare.  But as most of you know, we have been wrestling with the decision whether to stay at our home and end the interim pastoral position, or whether we should continue pastoring at the little coastal church.

So, here is it.  The ultimate deciding factor as mentioned in the last blog, was this question. “Which decision is the riskiest step of faith?”  And there apparently was a follow-up question.  “Is there more to do there?”

The answer to the last question seemed to be “yes”.  We always sensed that we were supposed to be there for a season.  And that has not changed.  But it seemed like we weren’t quite finished yet.  So apparently we are entering another season.  And that season places us full-time at the coast. 

Jesus tells us that believers are to “go into all the world and make disciples”.  And He says at the end of that great commission, “and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” 

So for us, the call seems to have been, “and lo, I am with you always, even at the edge of the ocean.”

Looks like we have some packing to do.

Finally

So, I have had a lot of friends tell me that my posts and blogs regarding our ministry and the future of it as the “interim” time is concluding, are quite cryptic.  And that I am placing the carrot in front of them controlling the anticipation with my every tug of the carrot string.  Kidding, sort of.

The truth is, and they know it, my writing is the result of the conversations and struggle that is going on inside of our minds, hearts, and soul.  The inconclusiveness of the decision is because we had not come to a resolution.  So, I apologize for any mystery.

The dilemma that we have encountered is in the tug of our hearts while at both locations.  When we are home, there is the desire to stay rooted and enjoy friends and ministry.  When we are at the coast, there is the desire toward the new possibilities and the enjoyment of new friends and ministry. 

There is also the pull between making what we have come to call the “easy” choice and the “safe” choice.

So, as we whittle down the pros and cons of each option, more questions seem to arise.  And I will spare you many of the details, and the intimately personal ones, but converse with you the following.

Questions we ask.

Do we make the easy choice or do we make the safe choice?

Do we want to stay here?
Do we want to move to the coast?
What will we be giving up?
What will we be gaining?
Will it be a positive experience?
Will it be a negative experience?
Will we find a house that is suitable?
Can we rent or sell our house?
What about T.’s job?
What about I.’s education?
What about this?
What about that?
Do you want us to go, God?
Do you want us to stay, God?

And on and on and on.

We been asking questions, but the hints or clues or fleeces or answers were always ambiguous, or so it seemed.

The book of James says that “You do not have, because you do not ask.”  That is certainly not the case for us.  We have asked.  And asked and asked.  And asked.

 James follows with “You ask but do not receive, because you ask amiss.”  Now I recognize that “asking amiss” here really means asking with or for the wrong motives.  And I don’t believe we have ever done that.  But the word “amiss” got me to thinking.

Perhaps we have not had an obvious answer, not because we haven’t asked, not because we asked with the wrong motives, but because we have been asking the wrong question.  And there it is.

The proper question we should be asking God seemed to be, “Which choice requires the most faith in You ?”  If we are to walk by faith, then what is the one that will necessitate the most trust and dependency upon Him?

And then the answer became, I believe, most apparent.  My blog “Sometime the Grass is Greener”, was an attempt to take a risk and live out in faith.  And with that, there came conclusion.  Are we staying? Are we leaving?

And now without further ado (yes that is the correct spelling), our decision is. . . . . .

We are __ __ __ __ __ __ __!

  (enter your own encryption here).  Okay, just a bit further ado.