Renters

“…the soul of the diligent is made fat.” - Pro. 13:4

I have been trying to rent an apartment these last few weeks. It is discouraging business. Not because there is no interest. On the contrary. One ad in the newspaper makes my phone ring for days. But then the dreary business begins. One showing after another introduces me to the flotsam and jetsam of human wreckage washing up on my little piece of shore. The stories unfold with sickening familiarity.

I hate to disparage my own sex, but far too many tales involve a delinquent father who has abandoned his wife and child or has left some woman shipwrecked with ruined credit and bankruptcy. But, yes, occasionally I will encounter a middle aged dad trying to raise up young children by himself for loss of a wife for one reason or another. The result is the same: a single parent trying to start over, a homeowner reduced to a tenant, and pleas for mercy in the face of ruined credit. I take phone calls and when they tell me they just went through a nasty divorce or somebody abandoned the family I tell them that makes me mad. I am not sure how that comes across on the other end of the phone from a perfect stranger, but someone should be upset. I figure they get enough people telling them that they are probably better off and that everything will be okay. No, someone should be angry at the resulting ruin.

And then there are the fools. This Christian(?) lady was “living with” a former addict who went back on his drugs and now she was set adrift with ruined credit. I was heartless. I reminded her in so many words that she had asked for it. She agreed. And how about the woman who wanted an apartment for herself, her husband, her daughter and fiancée, and a dog? She worried about the dog being a problem. She seemed shocked that the unmarried daughter and fiancée was more of a problem than the dog. No clue.

I have come to take great boldness of late with the unmarrieds after being advised of my rights as a landlord. A sweet and fresh young voice informed me that she and her fiancé were looking for a place to rent. I told her that as soon as they get married I would be glad to talk with them. I am always assured that they are planning on it soon. I offer to get them a preacher and a cake. Well, not that soon. A young man called for a place for his girlfriend and their child. I explained my belief in marriage and told him that his little girl needs a dad, a legal one, and that this wonderful girlfriend deserves a commitment. I can’t believe I am preaching to these phone-ins. Somehow, he was not angry. I am angry at the loss of shame in our society; and angry that after dozens of offers, no one has taken me up on a free wedding.

Then there are the married folk who look good in person and on paper but whose credit check reads like a police blotter with accounts in collections, deceitful references, bankruptcies, repossessions and $6000 in abandoned credit card debt. Why did they even bother? The stories of bad luck do not reconcile with defaults on cable TV bills, prolific smoking habits, or the fancy sports car they drive up in.

In comparison, I feel almost guilty in my affluence and secure relationships. But the House of Nordmoe was not given or inherited or won in some fluke of luck. It was built over a lifetime, mainly by honoring the promises we made as a young couple. We were not the beautiful or the well-connected. It was a story of simple God-inspired diligence. Real, steadfast lives don’t “just happen.” They are built, brick upon brick, stone upon stone, precept upon precept, until the “fatness” comes. There is no substitute for diligence, no shortcut to a secure and stable home. And if you are presently experiencing blood, sweat, and tears, you are probably on the right course. Faint not for in due season you shall reap.

Evil

"This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed" Lam. 3:21-22

Sickness, accidents, disease, sudden impoverishment, drought, crop failure, old age, betrayal, and heartache: these are the things life is made of at times. Or is it that these are the things life is made of most of the time? Is life mostly good with a few streaks of the bad thrown in for good measure? Or is life a struggle at best and only a rare, lucky few float along relatively unscathed?

Tuesday’s newspaper was especially wrenching with stories of murder confessions and convictions, bitterness and unforgiveness, headline divorces, governmental breakdowns, lawsuits, and political pandering on wholesale levels. Is this the norm that we must grow to expect in a fallen world with a few good stories that break through now and again or did I wake up to a bumper crop of especially bad news?I suppose you could entitle this essay, “Is the cup half full or half empty?” But then why does it matter?

It is my business to look at so many young and innocent faces every day and wonder just what we should tell them about life. What is it like, really? To protect and shield them from the evil in the world is every parent’s natural impulse, mine included. Why sully their blissful world with the dirt and dreadful savagery of mankind at its worst? But still there is much of the evil of the world that manages to sneak through our carefully arranged shields or, worse yet, brazenly shatters our stoutest defenses. Grandmas and grandpas get weak, sick, and die. Thieves break through and steal leaving a path of destruction in their wake. Friends fall and break their bones with a pain that is hideous to behold. And little sisters can suffer a wasting disease through no fault of their own.

So do we embrace life with dread and fear for the worst knowing that at anytime the sky will come crashing down? Or do we rejoice in each day’s mercies and celebrate all the good that comes our way being careful not to project a morbid fear of the future even if we come dangerously close to putting on the proverbial rose-colored glasses? In a thousand little ways, we will communicate one or the other to our children, our neighbors, our spouses, and the wayfaring stranger. We can easily be betrayed by our fears or our blissful optimistic obstinacy.

I choose to think of life in terms of knees. They are amazing devices, so fragile to either trauma or age, but yet assigned to carry all that body weight, bone upon bone, fitted end to end, and still they provide mobility through great ranges of motion. They seemed almost doomed to fail. A sudden jar or twist can tear the living bindings irrevocably. There is, to me, no satisfactory explanation of why they should be able to do all that is expected of them. And yet they do, year upon year, in one of God’s greatest displays of organic engineering. I have had my share of minor knee injuries, but instead of cursing my misfortune, I have learned to marvel at how well they perform in spite of the forces arrayed against them. It is not that they are so prone to misfortune that causes me to wonder. It is rather that they work at all.

So, too, life. It is so fragile, so complex, and so prone to failure on every hand. That takes little to comprehend. The greater mystery is how we do as well as we do. It is cause for rejoicing when things go well. Normality is a blessing in any form. Lack of debilitating sickness is a positive. Good health is cause for rejoicing. I see the cup half-full. Anything else is undeserved gravy. Yet my gratefulness is rooted in the acknowledgement of the evil around us. I neither ignore it nor fear it. I glory in every small mercy.

Differences

“let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” –Gal. 6:9

Part of my job that I really enjoy is getting to watch the infinite variety of children in our school. As people, we have much in common: our humanity, our homo sapien-ness, our biological make-up that makes medical books possible. But leaving that behind, we are as different as snowflakes. Even within the same family, it does not take long before parents begin questioning the origins of their offspring. “How could this child have sprung from our loins?”

I see ‘bouncy tiggers’ that were born into sedate homes. Intellectual types give birth to athletes. A musician emerges from a non-musical family. I marveled the other day at the flexibility of a youngster who could not sit in a chair without sitting on one foot or the other or both. It was as natural and compulsive as could be for this bright student while everyone else sat in comfortable conformity. To force either the one or the group at large to exchange their posture for the other would be excruciating torture.

I watched a young boy work a math sheet the other day and his rate of speed was exceedingly slow. It made an expediter like myself want to grab the pencil from him and race across the page. The teacher assured me that he was bright and fully able to handle all his math facts. But he was never one to be in a hurry. That can be so frustrating to parents who like to move quickly, racing from one job to the next.

One parent has commented repeatedly how one of their two children will quickly report any infraction of the rules he may have committed while the other one is impetuously breaking the rules and quite willing to cover it up. The one is a dedicated, task-oriented, first-born people pleaser. The other is a free spirit that soars quite often into places it should not go, fearless of the consequences.

The moral is that we cannot be held responsible for the children we bring into the world in any sense of personality, ability, temperament, or handicap. They are who they are. Some will write with perfect script from day one and others will fight legibility issues all their lives. Some will never be able to dribble a basketball and others exhibit the skill with no coaching whatsoever. The variety and genetic surprises are never-ending.

While we cannot control who they are from birth, we can shape their character. In fact, that is one thing which often characterizes a whole family. Your kids may all exhibit different giftedness, but I am always impressed by the character that children mimic in the same home. That kind of talk always makes parents nervous for they well know that their children are fully capable of embarrassing the family name at any one point in time. I have stories to tell as well as anyone. But to know your families over time, to be with your children day after day, to see them struggle and triumph in little different ways, I am pleased to say, is to see Godly homes and young lives being carefully built, line upon line, stone upon stone.

I grieve when I see beautiful and gifted children crash and burn as young adults for lack of Godly character. And I marvel at seeing children who are average in every way go on to build solid and productive lives because of the Christ-like character formed within them. The secret is not in the cards we are dealt but how we play them. Trite truth? Perhaps, but it is also a fountain of hope for all because the race is not to the swift, or the beautiful, or the rich and famous. Keep up the good work.

Evolution

“And the earth was without form and void…” - Gen. 1:2

I had made a daisy chain with my orange extension cord and brought it into a classroom last week for some last minute repairs on a table. Evidently not too many of the students have contractors for dads and had not seen one before. “What’s that?” they all wanted to know. I proceeded to give a lesson on why the theory of evolution does not make much sense. Extension cords and garden hoses are my number one evidence for the Biblical account of creation as opposed to evolutionary theory. Somehow the students were still a bit puzzled with the connection. So what happens when you toss an extension cord in a box and then pull it out to use it? “It gets all tangled,” they answered correctly. What happens when you carefully roll up an extension cord or a garden hose, lay it nicely in a corner, and then grab it to use it? “It still gets all tangled up,” came the response again. That is why I make a daisy chain with my extension cord for though it looks ugly and bulky, if you pull from the end, it comes out straight with no tangles. But it takes extra work and careful technique to reset the daisy chain when you are through.

Macro evolutionary theory says that given enough time, order can come from chaos. My experience is that order reverts to chaos; even after special efforts at making loop-de-loops with all my cords and hoses. Think about the last time you pulled out that camera with the long strap out of your purse. If it comes out clean without a knot or a snag, you consider yourself blessed. And the smaller the string, the more grave and perfidious the tangle. Fishermen know that the only cure for a back-lashed fishing line is a pair of scissors. Even the most routine movements, casts, or reeling can create mind-boggling puzzles sure to cross the eyes of the most clear-sighted and test the patience of the most saintly. And how many times have I attempted to move an appliance or tool with even the most modest of power cords and, daring fate, I left the free trailing cord drag along behind only to see it snag on the most unlikely places.

My argument is simple. Anyone who believes in the theory of evolution and that order can come out of chaos has never seriously worked with either garden hoses or extension cords. I went through a phase in which I flirted with evolutionary thought. I used to think that perhaps the cord would untangle if I shook it enough. In my old age, I now am resigned to the fact that the more I shake them, they worse they get. Intelligence is required. I have to analyze the knot and take the time to untangle one twist at a time.

And only God could bring order out of nothingness. Chaos is the norm. We, as complex and intricately designed creatures, are the exception. There is no other satisfactory explanation. Bringing order out of chaos is the work of God, the Divine initiative. To design, to build, to organize, to create, to repair, to restore is the incarnation of the Imago Dei, the image of God, within the heart of man.

Every morning when I see freshly scrubbed children in clean clothes carrying lunch boxes filled with carefully chosen edibles, I see order that is imposed on chaos. One child just last week was finishing her breakfast outside on the sidewalk and suddenly spilled orange juice all down her clean school outfit, and her school day had not even started; she hadn’t even made it in the door. Chaos is the bent of the world, especially for children. Order is the sweet smelling sacrifice, day by day, child by child, mess by mess, which we are able to offer up to the Creator, the supreme order-maker. I think He takes pleasure with every lunch that’s made, every toilet that’s cleaned, every dress that’s ironed, every closet that’s organized, and every lesson that’s learned. And at the end of the week, we should be able to look back upon the order we have imposed on chaos and say, “It is good. It is very good.”

No Child Left Inside

“But whereunto shall I liken this generation? It is like unto children sitting in the markets, and calling unto their fellows, and saying, We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced; we have mourned unto you, and ye have not lamented.” - Matthew 11:16-17

In speaking to the people of his day, Jesus pulled up an image well known to every adult person: that of children role-playing in the streets, acting out and mimicking adult behaviors in group situations. Way before Fischer-Price or Sony Play Stations, child’s play involved other children and the great outdoors. It was the privilege and passion of children to run the neighborhood streets, walkways, yards, driveways, bushes, and vacant lots. Who would even want them in the house?

Not yet 5 years old in 1863, Theodore Roosevelt’s family moved to the countryside for the summer where this future president discovered “the ‘enthralling pleasures’ of building wigwams in the woods, gathering hickory nuts and apples, hunting frogs, haying and harvesting, and scampering barefoot down long, leafy lanes.” “Teedie,” as he was nicknamed, soon became the leader of the children’s play and improvised countless stories. His sister, Corinne recalled tales “about jungles and bold, mighty and imaginary fights with strange beasts . . . there was always a small boy in the stories . . . who understood the language of animals and would translate their opinions to us.” At the age of nine, ‘Teedie’ began the Roosevelt Museum of Natural History out of his bedroom and back hall. The washer-woman complained, “How can I do the laundry with a snapping turtle tied to the legs of the sink?” The good-natured cook declared, “Either I leave or the woodchuck does!” referring to a carcass she was ordered to boil for 24 hours.*

All of this child’s play has become an endangered species today and verges on extinction. Central heat and air brings blessed relief from the heat but imprisons us within our houses. Scenes of neighborhood children romping through backyards and playing under trees have all but disappeared. My memories of neighbors gathering in the cool of an outdoor shade tree around the ubiquitous back-yard swing are very distant. My congressman included a concern about “indoor children” in his newsletter. Seems that the Washington Post has run a lengthy article reporting both the physical and mental problems that come when young people spend too much time staring at TV screens or playing video games. “Concerns about long-term consequences affecting emotional well-being, physical health, learning disabilities, and environmental consequences—have spawned a national movement to ‘leave no child inside.’” This has even become the subject of some Capitol Hill and state legislative hearings.

Our children’s clubhouse sits idle now, a nesting place for spiders and junk. But our kids have many fond memories of tea parties downstairs, walnut wars fought from upstairs, trips down the fire pole, and campouts in the loft. It was a kid-magnet for the neighborhood, a launching pad for friendships and adventures, and headquarters for plots and counter-plots. Of course, the near-by overgrown lot was also a real plus. It became riddled with trails and foxholes where many a battle was waged against the forces of evil. All of this was horribly unsafe, of course. Who knows what creatures inhabited the woods though I think they all evacuated quickly at the sound of children. And the Nord-mobile was a 3 wheeled rattle trap that was guaranteed to scare both parent and child as it noisily careened down hills and across yards. Improvised from the front end of a small bicycle and the cast iron wheels of an old welding cart, it makes even me wonder today if I should have been arrested for child endangerment. But oh, what fun. “No child left inside.” I am not much one for crusades, but I kind of like the sound of this one. Think about it.

Beginnings

“Therefore having been justified by faith,…” Romans 5:1-5

It is hard to believe that another school year is upon us already. I, like you, wonder where the summer went. Looking at several students who are suddenly elevated inches in stature assures me that we had one. Some of you are suddenly looking eye to eye with your children. Most all are returning with bright eyes and excitement over a new beginning. I, too, rejoice that we serve a God of new beginnings.

For each student, there is a clean slate, new classmates, new teachers, new textbooks, new opportunities, and new challenges. Some, however, are laboring under the memories of past difficulties, old offenses, broken friendships, or even past failure. It is a common human condition. In spite of the memories of high points in the past year, many are nevertheless also haunted by the difficulties encountered, the mistakes, the doubts, the misunderstandings, and errors of judgment committed by ourselves or others along the way. Adults and students alike long for fresh starts but often find themselves nagged by bad memories. How we deal with the past is an important factor in determining success in the future.

It is a familiar story echoed in the lives of any church you have known this past year, any extended family relationships you have encountered, any marriage that continues to grow and thrive, and, yes, any life lived in the full scrutiny of God’s all-seeing eye. Failure and shortcoming are endemic to all humanity and every institution known to man, CFC among them. Being the chief manager of the complaint department is one of my many duties that I have learned to embrace with healthy respect.

Listening to difficulties teaches me about me. How do I live with failure and shortcoming? It is a question each of us has to answer to maintain our own sanity and well-being. In spite of mistakes, we must move forward. In spite of the flaws of our mate, we must remain loyal. In spite of the deficiencies of our children, we still must love and care deeply about them. In spite of our own moral failures, we must continue to run the race for the high calling of Christ Jesus. We have to learn to live with failure and error or we die, either of despair or bitterness.

How shall we then live? I get a picture of the resolution of this dilemma from Romans where Paul exults in “this grace in which we stand” enabling us to have “peace with God.” I love grace. It is blessed stuff. Preach it, brother. But then he goes on to “exult in our tribulations” knowing that it brings about “perseverance” and “proven character.” Ouch! That part I could just as soon do without.

I have stood with many of you last year that suffered through struggles and heartaches. I have interviewed many new families who bring with them stories of difficulties and distress. Every student at CFC brings with them memories of the past school year that contain elements of the good, the bad, and the ugly. Suggestion. At the beginning of every year, I believe it is good practice to (1) exult in the grace of God. Accordingly as I have received, so should I give; forgive as I have been forgiven. It is God’s preventive medicine against bitterness. (2) I need to exult in my tribulations. I must look upon all those difficult problems, discipline sessions, conflicts, protracted meetings, misunderstandings as things sown into my life from which good can result. I must not look back upon them with embarrassed resentment but as opportunities for growth.

Can you join me in rejoicing in the grace God has shown to us by bringing us thus far and giving us another new beginning? Romans 5 – good stuff.

Summer News

"Jesus saith unto them, My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, to finish his work." – John 4:34

What drives us? What drives me? It is an uncomfortably introspective question that can reveal much. Nothing can start one thinking about this as quickly as food, or the lack thereof. In training for a hike I just completed this summer, I had a goal to loose 8 pounds. There was no point in drilling holes in the handle of my toothbrush to lighten my load by a quarter ounce when I could cut back on my feed and loose 8 pounds I did not need to drag up and down the mountain. Passing up the seconds on all the good home cooking I regularly see was a challenge. But that, plus regular exercise, put me well within accomplishing that goal by the time I left to go west. It was a matter of being driven by a dream of hiking into thinner air unencumbered by the unnecessary.

Seven days of carrying one’s provisions kept all of us pared back to the essentials. It was interesting to hear grown men talking about the content labels of everything from olive oil to candy bars in determining the nutritive and caloric content. We looked for the biggest bang for the least weight. One of us rejoiced in eating a giant Snickers bar for lunch everyday having found it contained over 500 calories. Food became an obsession for there was seemingly never enough of it, especially for our younger set. Bartering broke out on the fourth day into the hike. Fishing took on special significance. I never felt like I was going hungry but still lost an additional five pounds for the week in spite of some trail ending splurges at a pizza shop.

But there was sufficient time and opportunity to contemplate the truth of “man shall not live by bread alone but by every word the proceeds from the mouth of God.” How many of our waking moments are preoccupied by what we eat or desire to eat? Moses went up into the mountain to obtain the ten commandments and “neither did eat bread nor drink water” for forty days and nights. Elijah was given a couple of meals by an angelic messenger and “went in the strength of that meat forty days and forty nights unto Horeb the mount of God.” These were men on a mission who were sustained by the Lord in miraculous fashion, no doubt. Still, there was probably some discomfort, but they were much more consumed by their heavenly pursuit than by their desire to sit at a sumptuous table and satiate their bodily desires. They were driven by heavenly causes over and above their personal peace and comfort.

Jesus said, “I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.” Isaiah cried out to those who spend their money for that which is not bread. “Eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.” Proverbs reminds us that wisdom beckons to the simple. “Come, eat of my bread, and drink of the wine which I have mingled. Forsake the foolish, and live.” Life is not in the bread of this world but in the heavenly bread that comes down from heaven.

I was willing to forsake much fine eating this summer to see the tops of mountains, glory in the alpine meadows of the upper Rockies, catch trout in high lakes, see the wildlife of remote woodlands, and climb heights for panoramic vistas. It was well worth it. May I be so willing to forsake the pleasures of this world, the dainty meats of the evil one, and the ease of the wide and broad path for the sake of gaining the heavenly kingdom and doing the will of my Father in heaven. May we all be so driven to do the will of Him who sent our Savior that we do not even notice those momentary sacrifices that impinge upon our personal peace and affluence. To him who does, “bread shall be given; his waters shall be sure (Isa. 33:16).”

Colorado Adventure

Our team of six returned Thursday evening from a successful adventure into the high Rockies. Bruce, Phil, Evan, Wes, Jim, and I ventured some 35-40 miles over 7 days into the Eagle's Nest Wilderness Area just west of Denver. We encountered wildlife galore this trip as never before with sitings of mountain goat, mountain sheep, moose, mountain lion plus some smaller species including pica, leeches, and an unusually large species of salamander. The weather cooperated famously with light afternoon showers on only 3-4 days. The last night featured a mountain electrical storm in all its glory (ka boom, ka boom) with a real tent-floating downpour. One of our crew chilled to the warning level so we built a fire in spite of the ban because of the cold and wet made it possible, nay, necessary. That was our first campfire at 10,000 feet, and it inspired a precious sharing time together. Fishing closed out the week in famous form as we had a trout feast after the deluge. All who were up to it and wanted to summit had two experiences during the week. We all stayed well and strong, and we marvelled at God's provision both through the bounty of nature and the random acts of strangers who crossed our paths at the most opportune time.

Fathers

When I was a boy in my father's house, still tender, and an only child of my mother, he taught me and said, "Lay hold of my words with all your heart; keep my commands and you will live. –Pro. 4:2-4

If you read the Scripture at top, you probably agreed in your heart that it is a very good model of how things are supposed to be. Yet, how many of us had dads who did this, who took us aside and spoke tender words of comfort and wisdom into our souls? Precious few, I suspect. I never experienced that. But at least he was there in my life, a rugged block of a man who knew hard labor as his business and faithfulness as his duty. We celebrated father’s day last Sunday, which always makes the card companies happy and means that I might get to make a request for dinner. But as a nation, we evidently are doing a pitiful job of appreciating the role that fathers play.

Kathleen Parker reports that “a 1999 study of how fathers were presented in 102 primetime TV shows, the National Fatherhood Initiative found only four in which a father was portrayed as present and involved in his children’s lives.” You know the typical drama. Dad is a bumbling fool at best or absent and hopeless at worst. And “at the same time little boys and girls are seeing bad, dumb daddies on TV, more than a third don’t live with their own father, owing either to divorce or single motherhood.” And yet we know “study after study shows an association between fatherlessness and a wide range of social pathologies, including drug abuse, promiscuity and delinquency.”

Fathers do have a strong influence upon the lives of children even if they are not chiseled from the Book of Proverbs. Susan Estrich wrote a tearful testimonial last week about how her father was far from perfect. “He smoked and drank and married the wrong woman. He went months without seeing me. He didn’t buy me presents or pay my tuition. …But I loved him so.” Thirty years later she still misses him.

But when the dad-role is played well, it can have a huge impact upon families. As a man, I often thought my influence was rather minimal when walking in the door at the end of a day to see the whirl of family activity going on about me. I did not cook the meal on the table, clean the house, wash any of the clothes, or help anybody with the homework of the day. I possessed only a fraction of my wife’s knowledge of the world in which my children moved and had their being. But to think I did not matter is a totally false and deprecating assumption. Theodore Roosevelt called the Presidency of the United States a “bully pulpit” for he rightly knew that the words he spoke from it would echo near and far. The high and holy position of “father” is also a “bully pulpit” as well that begs to be used for good.

Roosevelt’s father spoke these words into his young son’s life as he was going off to college. “Take care of your morals first, your health next, and finally your studies.” Theodore Roosevelt idolized his father and bound those words tightly to his heart. So much so, that his modern day biographer offered bemused wonder at Theodore’s commitment to purity before marriage. How many young men go off to college today so challenged? Not long after, Roosevelt’s father died and in his grief in pondering his future he wrote, “Oh Father, my Father, no words can tell how I shall miss your counsel and advice.”

May you dads realize that you are standing on holy ground. Your daily footsteps leave imprints that will follow you in the lives of your children for generations to come. You are more than just a paycheck. Much, much more.

Slickrock Creek Hike Report

Four of us ended up going deep into the Slickrock Creek Wilderness Area Sat - Mon. We hit the Hangover mid-day and had a streak of luck. Few make it up there and are able to get a clear view. Much rain in that area. Vista was unlimited. Camped that night on Stratton Bald. It felt downright illegal to do that but it was fully permissable, even without a permit! There was not a chance of rain all weekend, but it rained hard for 40 minutes that evening after setting up. What a blessing though.
The spring was barely moving so we tanked up using run-off from a hammock tarp. The Father knows more than one way to supply water on a bald.
Next day we took an unknown trail down from Naked Ground (no nudists in
sight) which actually was the beginning of the Slickrock Creek trail. It has a reputation which was well deserved. It has other names going up.
We spent the night at Wildcat Falls and enjoyed the whole camping area
and the falls to ourselves. An afternoon dip was refreshing and
invigorating. We left camp at 9:00 AM and were back home by three even with a detour to A&W.

Self Esteem

“For God so loved the world…” -John 3:16

There is a new public service announcement out. It features Mariska Hargitay who says “If you like you, everyone else will too.” One of my high school students went to the national motivational seminar in Knoxville last week and took home a message about not listening to anyone else’s viewpoint about ones’ self, especially if it is negative. My wife and I recently reminisced about how many of our own college days were absorbed by our own insecurities and how much more we could have accomplished if we had only felt less afraid about who we were. And how often have adult friends shared stories about how their own parents filled them with feelings of insecurity and inadequacy that still continue to plague them?

Out of this fertile ground of our insecurities and self-doubts sprung the self-esteem movement. It tried to reassure us that both you and I were okay. It spawned numerous seminars, books, and self-help classes to say nothing of the efforts at building self-esteem among our school-age population. From there, it just seemed to be a natural progression to eliminating the sources of negative self-esteem. Grades were suspect, tracking was denounced, testing was dethroned, and everyone was encouraged to think they could do anything they put into their minds to do. Never was heard a discouraging word and the skies were not cloudy all day.

Like any humanistic movement and lie, there lay a kernel of truth at the core. Yes, we are born into this world as a 7-pound bundle of fears. We bear a terrible burden that we were never intended to bear: free, moral autonomy. And because it is an impossible load to carry, we wrestle with very, real guilt along with all the cast off remnants of parental and societal failings. The insecurities we feel are quite real, and the most, deservedly so.

But there is no healing power in a blind mantra that keeps repeating, “I’m okay. I’m okay.” Those who actually come to believe that often morph into arrogant monsters that no one can live with. I find little in myself to love so how can I truly love myself? There is ultimately only one means of reconciling myself to myself, and that is to see myself as God sees me. He knows it all, the failings and the filth, and yet he places great value on me. He comes and deals with the moral guilt, buries it in the deepest sea, and adopts me as His son. I am worthy because He said so, and the price of my ransom was high.

Next to that, the love of friends and family pales by comparison in its redemptive power. But because we are God’s body in this world, we can be the instruments of communicating His grace; “God’s love with fingers and toes.” I have to have God’s love and forgiveness, but that which comes through human agency is powerfully reassuring as well. It takes the form of the good Samaritan who picks up my battered spirit and nurses it back to health, reflecting the grace of God at work in us all.

I say all this to encourage parents to love your children with all the love that God puts in you. Your arms are a welcome flesh and blood embodiment of God’s love, and I think He meant it to be that way. I knew no one in my life as a child who could extend that act of grace to me. Many of our parents never experienced it given to them. How many sons have gone off seeking the reassuring love of their mothers in the arms of strange women? How many daughters have sought the love of their fathers in the embrace of young men? Love your children. Not blindly, but purposely, redemptively, and passionately. It grounds the spirit of a child like nothing else.

Blacksburg II

“Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?” -Gen. 3:1

With all the horror about us these days, someone is bound to ask the question as to how much do we share of this with our children and how much of the news do we block out? In the last week, even the leading media outlets have had to face this issue with how much of the news was actually fit to print or disgorge in video form. I venture out onto the thin ice of this question with fear and trepidation because there are so many variables involved. Each of us has a right and responsibility to decide the limits of propriety for our own family. Please allow me to stir up your pure minds for the purpose of reflection.

No doubt exists now that last week brought us face to face with pure evil. A better picture has emerged, and the most disturbing questions that I have seen raised deal with the now past decision of society to abolish taboos and definitions of “normal” which have effectively disarmed the self-defense mechanisms of good judgment that could have derailed the obvious and the apparent (Diana West, Wash. Times, 4-24-07). Regardless, do we let our children read and study the face and behavior of such a killer? Do we talk about it in their presence? Do we let them know it even happened? I have not seen the video footage mailed in by the killer and am not sure I want to. I think I have enough information already without imprinting his voice and video image in my mind. There is a point at which news worthiness turns into a fascination with the macabre. I avoid it for the same reason I do not stop to peer into wrecks on the road where the victim still lies trapped within. Those who must deal with it do so out of professional duty. Even these steeled professionals must carefully exercise themselves to purge their minds of the horror lest they become ineffective either as professionals or as fathers, mothers, husbands or wives.

On the other hand, I do not think we need fear exposure to the fallen-ness of this world for we can gain a truer picture of what sin is than anything the enemy throws up to us with his constant deceptions. Let me share with you the following quote which so concisely captures this point. “Imaginary evil is romantic and varied, full of charm; imaginary good is tiresome and flat. Real evil, however, is dreary, monotonous, barren. Real good is always new, marvelous, intoxicating.” (Simone Weil, 20th century French mystic) The evil we need to fear and protect ourselves from is that which flows so profusely from Hollywood, TV comedies, romance novels, and, yes, our own imaginations. Sinful acts springing from fantasies of the mind are incredibly alluring. The evil one graciously assists us in painting wonderfully exciting pictures of what delicious fun a little sin might be. It started in the garden and continues today. And yet, when we do see actual sin for what it is and what it does, we see nothing but barren-ness, destruction, and wreckage. Imaginary good, however, is easily mocked either in our minds or in the media as being trite and tiresome. But when we participate in actual deeds of kindness and mercy, we experience incredible joy. This helps explain why Christian fiction is so hard to write without becoming formulaic and flat while tales of sinfulness easily pull at our curiosity and quickly become best sellers.

I do not think we need fear the effect of the news from W.Virginia or the daily body count stories from our own Knoxville backyard. They simply tally up and highlight the cost of sin that eventually comes due. The wages of sin is death. Satan would much rather feed us titillating stories of desperate housewives, tales of cavorting doctors, and chronicles of clever and romantic criminals. I say, fear those who can dress up folly as creative frolic rather than the drumbeat of brutal headlines and coarse crimes. The one is real. The other is not.

Blacksburg

“if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door.” Gen. 4:7

More bad news. Just when we thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does. Blacksburg has now put itself on the map as the latest and worst of anger gone amok. I am thinking of you with young children. How do you relate this news to them? Some are too small to even ask. Others are terribly perplexed. How is it possible to feel safe anymore? I struggle to think of anything comparable when my children were small.

Security is a deep felt need in us all. Yet events like this reveal how vulnerable we all are to such pointless and random violence. This is terrorism of the worst kind. There seems to be no agenda, no ideological grievance or injustice to blame or to try to understand. It appears to be pure fury unleashed from the troubled soul of a madman. But even worse, it could turn out to be not the rage of a madman in the sense of some deeply deranged lunatic. It could be that he was just an angry man.

Angry young men have been with us ever since Cain slew Abel. But the circles of violence have grown, the means more available, and the precedents established that break old barriers of civility with callous impudence. These cause us to question our society, our culture, and our values as a nation. And so they should. These events do not happen in a vacuum. They are symptoms of forces deep, dark, and disturbing within our civilization as we know it. Hundreds of opinions will be forthcoming shortly reflecting upon causes and solutions by philosophers and columnists alike. It is becoming a tiresome task, however, as we seem to be revisiting this deep, dark well with increasing frequency. Despair at finding an answer is, in itself, a symptom of our arrival in some perplexing new age.

My nominee for an explanation to this deadly scourge of disasters upon our national stage of horrors is simply that we have forgotten God, which Solzhenitsyn once said propelled Russia’s slide into Communism’s dark age. How many of these mass killers are children of the age; aimless, detached from normal families, seekers of meaning in a material culture, suckled by the exciting panoply of virtual media violence, and most significantly, totally devoid of sexual mores which lead them into destructive relationships that collapse of their own dead weight? I vote that lesson one is that there is no such thing as victimless sin. Somewhere, someplace, bad choices will bring forth bad fruit that kill and destroy and stink up the neighborhood with the smells of decay. It is true for our culture and true for us as middle class Christians. Secondly, ideas have consequences. Moral relativism breeds a revolution whose offspring will self-destruct and take the innocent with them. Sin destroys and the resulting destruction can ignite anger that knows no bounds.

The reports I am hearing indicate that our younger generation is playing at sin with frightful ferocity especially in the area of intimate relationships. This is true within the church and without. I continue to believe that God’s laws were planted in our midst for our own protection and not simply to spoil our fun. It is our duty to testify to that truth, uphold the law without embarrassment, and name sin for what it is. We must share the bad news before the good news of God’s love and forgiveness makes any sense. I am becoming convinced that this is an important step if we are to reach a generation which has lost its sense of shame. In the meantime, living in this increasingly insecure world demands we stay prayed up each day and rejoice in each day’s blessing of life. Life is worth living, and death only promotes us to glory.

Callings IX

“We pray always for you, that our God would count you worthy of this calling, and fulfill all the good pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith with power” - 2 Thess. 1:10

Some years ago, John M. Hancock, a Knoxville lawyer, wrote a tribute for man who passed away at the age of 98. His name was Tennyson Walter Dickson, but he was known to his friends as “Slim” because of his tall, lanky stature. Mr. Hancock wrote that Slim “was as much of a positive influence on me as any of my teachers in public school or Sunday School, college professors, ministers, attorneys, judges or anyone else I have ever known in my 41 years of life.” Who was this man who exerted such influence?

John’s first recollection of Slim was as a boy when his whole family went to the S&W Cafeteria on Gay Street for dinner every Thursday night. Slim was one of the waiters there who wore a suit and bow tie, balanced trays on his arms, and poured up glasses of water and milk. In addition to his years of service at the cafeteria, Slim worked as a yardman and gardener for several families in Sequoyah Hills and Holston Hills before donning his suit coat for his regular job at night. Slim worked as such for John’s parents and grandparents and John grew up watching “his meticulous attention to detail, his dedication to service, his humbleness, his gratitude and, most of all, his Christian witness.” He was a deacon and usher at Mt. Zion Baptist Church, but John felt privileged “to see how he lived his life daily the other days of the week, how he sang, prayed, and praised God for the privilege of being able to work. Work to Slim was a true pleasure and opportunity.” Slim worked hard all his life, was never known to complain, and always wanted to find more to do. He worked in the heat of summer and cold of winter, no matter what the weather. “He mowed yards, trimmed bushes, pruned trees, dug ditches, planted flowers, raked leaves, and whatever else was necessary.” He asked for wages so low that most times he was paid twice as much as he asked but which was still lower by far than anything anyone else would work for, if, indeed, you could get them to work at all.

Slim became a part of the family sometimes coming as honored guest and friend. “He prayed many prayers with us in our kitchen when family health problems beset us.” He was there when John’s grandma died and gave the benediction at Grandpa’s funeral. He was the only black man at that funeral and demonstrated that ability to bridge those racial, social, and economic divisions within our society that so trouble us. “I never saw him unless he had a smile on his face. He had that rare quality that allowed him to get along with anyone in any situation.” Just a few years before his death, a roast was held in Slim’s honor at Ramsey’s, a tribute normally reserved for the elite. It was a mark of how deeply his life had impacted the community. Slim came to ask John to speak at that affair with his head bowed and a humble voice. When John said it would be an honor, Slim had to fight back the tears.

Stories like this stir me deeply. It is the story of a man who worked in his calling under the most humble of circumstances and did it as unto the Lord. To him, work was “a pleasure and opportunity.” His character showed through and deeply affected the lives around him. John Hancock, the lawyer, looked to Slim, the waiter and gardener, for inspiration in his daily life and counted it a privilege to know him. And in the end, both city and county officials, pastors, etc. gathered to honor Slim “not for his longevity of life but for the quality of it.” This is the mark of a person who is content and faithful in their calling and who understands that one’s legacy is defined by their character and not their calling. This is in stark contrast to a world blinded by the prestige, power, and pomp of office and station. How often I need to be reminded of this. How much more our children.

Callings VIII

But I trusted in thee, O Lord: I said, Thou art my God. My times are in thy hand. -Psalms 31:14-15

Just when you thought it was safe to make some assumptions about one’s calling in life, I am afraid I have some more disconcerting news. Callings change. Life has its twists and turns, times, and stages. And with these tumultuous events, our callings can also change. David went from being a shepherd to being a soldier and, ultimately, to being a king. God leads us through these times in our lives, and at each stage, we develop skills and take on certain roles wherein we exercise God’s call in service to the Kingdom in uniquely different ways.

While this may fill some of us with hope that one day soon we may be called to move on to something quite different, for many of us change is difficult and threatening. The challenge comes to all of us sooner or later to lay down a calling in life, something we have grown quite comfortable with and good at, to follow a different leading. Moms and dads remember a time when they lived a relatively carefree life as young singles, amiably pursuing studies or the beginnings of a dream career. Then romance and marriage rearranged the center of their lives so that it was no longer the “I” that directed their choices but the “we.” And when children came, it was no longer the “we” but the “they.” Moms, especially, often find themselves having to choose between an attractive career they had carefully prepared for and staying home to do laundry, wipe noses, and run a taxi service. Dads also find their choices become more limited and constraining because their first calling in life has evolved to be that of a father and provider. These choices can be very painful at times. We have all passed by the wreckage of marriages and families where someone felt forced to choose between career and family and made a disastrous decision. The body count is way too high.

When so led, the called man/woman of God will resign and give up his calling with grace and dignity if called to do so by God. This has to be our guiding principle. For young people, their present calling in life is to be a student and learner. At some point, they need to lay that down and enter the workforce. For many of us that was a welcomed change, but some students try to make a career out of school and in the process make a sad caricature of their lives. Once we take on the responsibility of marriage and family, our role as wife or husband, mom or dad, becomes our first calling in life. It trumps all others. Many grand ambitions, at times, have to be laid down to serve this high and holy calling. Doing that with grace and dignity can be one of the most difficult things we ever do. Engineers may end up selling cars, teachers may work an assembly line, or divinity graduates find themselves working in warehouses. While the choices may never be that stark, our priorities must change as our levels of responsibility change.

Likewise, as our children mature and leave, our calling again will change. Nothing is sadder to watch than a mother who will not let go of her children, who finds her only purpose in life in fulfilling that role. We must hold all our callings in life with an open hand whether it be our children, our careers, or our companies and be willing to see what God will call us to beyond these stages of life. This week we observe that time in which Jesus laid down his calling of being a teacher, prophet, and healer to become the sacrificial lamb on our behalf. May we be able to follow His example with equal grace and dignity.

Callings VII

“…for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.” Phil. 4:11-12

“The called man/woman of God is encouraged to embrace difficulty, danger, humility, or success, no matter what might befall them in their calling.” With these few and simple words, the Puritans put an iron rod of discipline into that warm, fuzzy feeling we call our life leading, professional inclination, or God’s call on our life. It is the part of hearing from God regarding a life vocation that is easily ignored or conveniently forgotten. Somehow we tend to focus on the self-fulfillment phase of discovering God’s leading in our lives. I talked to a man this week who takes young people camping and hiking as a full time outdoor recreation director. How thrilling it must be to do what one naturally loves to do and actually be paid to do it. And there is truth there that great joy can be found when operating in one’s giftedness for the glory of God.

But the other side of that picture is that God neither gifts us nor calls us for the joys of self-fulfillment. His callings are for service and His purposes. Self-actualization as a goal in life is perhaps one of the most cruel and poisonous philosophies spread about during my lifetime. It leads inexorably to the bizarre conclusion that, no matter what, God wants us to be happy. From there, all sorts of chaos proceeds.

When teaching our children about seeking their calling in life, the Divine Surgeon General’s warnings need to be firmly in place as well. Warning: your calling in life could entail calculated preparation and tedious study. Warning: your calling in life may entail great danger and opposition. Warning: your calling in life could entail loss and sacrifice. Warning: your calling in life could lead to a life of humble poverty. Who knew God’s call on his life more clearly than the Apostle Paul? And yet, he experienced homelessness, hardship, imprisonments, beatings, shipwreck, nakedness, peril, and ultimately an untimely death. His calling was not about self-actualization but about self-denial. This is a critical factor in following God’s callings for we do not measure the will of God or the validity of our calling by the degree of familial comfort, worldly success, or personal happiness we experience. Politicians are savagely attacked, pastors are beleaguered, teachers are tested, mechanics get bloody knuckles, mothers lose sleep, and missionaries are occasionally and casually martyred. When we know we are in His will, we will endure all things for the sake of the mission. This is what kept Noah working while the world laughed. It enabled David to face Goliath. It filled Shadrach and his friends with courage though the furnace was heated seven times hotter. And it will fill us ordinary folk with the steel we need to survive the rigors of our callings, no matter how strenuous, no matter what the opposition.

And last of all, there needs to be one more important caution. Warning: all degrees of success or fame are equally from God’s hand and are no cause for pride or self-satisfaction. Success can be even more deadly than tribulation. How many have fallen in the midst of personal triumph? Far too many. “The called man/woman of God will equally bear good and evil success as God shall dispense to him. If God prosper him, he had learned not to be puffed up, and if he should be exposed to want, he could do it without murmuring” (John Cotton). May we hide this wisdom in our hearts and those of our children.

Callings VI

“For he that is called in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord's freeman: likewise also he that is called, being free, is Christ's servant.” -I Cor. 7:22

“The called man/woman of God, in serving God, serves men, and in serving men, serves God.”

In that simple phrase, we can sum up so much of what the early Puritans thought of the concept of a calling in life. It captures the spirit of Scripture so beautifully which says that inasmuch as we have served the least of our brethren, we have done it unto Him (Matt. 25:40). Our desire to serve God is not to be bound up in lives of cloistered penance and prayer. It is to be lived out in the daily market place where we interact with neighbors, friends, and rank strangers. The banker is to serve his customers as one who seeks to encourage and enable parents to provide shelter for their families, to aid businessmen in developing new jobs and opportunities, and to provide means of savings and investments for the future dreams of child and adult alike. Banking should never be seen as a means of personal enrichment and power. The clerk in a convenience store is there to assist the harried traveler with gas and a sticky bun or whatever to make life for the wayfarer more, dare we say it, “convenient” and to protect the assets of the owner. It is all about service to others who could always use a smile and encouraging word to go with that newspaper or cup of coffee. It is not about exerting the absolute minimum effort while counting down the minutes until shift change or foraging freebies at the expense of the company. The professional athlete dedicates his abilities and efforts to the success of his team and uses his public profile as a role model of good character for the greater good of his community. It is not about personal glory and grandstanding or a means of extorting larger and larger salaries to consume upon himself in gratuitous displays of freedom and excess.

When we and our children understand this, our perspective towards our jobs, towards developing our gifts and abilities should be touched, affected, and changed. We come up from the waters of baptism new creatures, regenerated to newness of life. We need to baptize our dreams of work and wealth, of study and education, of success and fame in the cleansing waters of humility and service. We serve God by serving men. Our work, our talents, and our abilities are means of worship to our maker. It is our reasonable service.

In so doing, we lay down our dreams of glory, our preoccupation with personal advancement, and our predisposition to seek positions of status. And the amazing thing is that when we do this, we find that the pressure to succeed that was driving us with such cruel force is gone. Contentment with our station in life is attainable. We discover joy in our labors that we never knew were there, and we can actually draw strength from the most menial of tasks instead of being drained by them.

Perhaps I am becoming a bit repetitious and tiresome in making this point. I risk it because it is the hinge upon which so much turns. To see work as worship, to see our calling in life as a means of service rather than a means to glory is a means of great freedom from the chains of this world’s values. It also restores the dignity of each person as worthy servants before the Lord no matter what tasks they perform in life. There will be those who will have great reward in heaven for the cups of cold water they have dispensed as sure as there will be those who have operated great levers of power and wealth in this life who will find themselves suddenly ashamed. May you find joy in your work this week, parent and child alike.

Callings V

“Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it….” -Ps. 127:1

Believe it or not, there comes a time in the lives of most young people when they discover that they have particular talents and abilities that distinguish them from others their age. Adolescence is a search for value and self worth, and the first steps are generally filled with faltering, timidity, and doubt. But eventually, young people are pleasantly surprised when, to their amazement, they possess a skill or knack for an activity, a sport, an academic field, or a hobby that sets them apart. I remember prowling about our farm buildings as a teenager, armed with a .22 rifle, hunting sparrows. These birds were a plague upon our barns with their incessant nest building that in turn attracted insects and provided a breeding ground for disease. I had free license to use them as target practice at will. They presented a small and challenging target to my simple, open-sighted, single-shot rifle. Many more bullets missed than hit their mark. But one day a friend drove in as I was on one of my wandering safaris, and as we talked, a flock of sparrows flew into a large, barren tree some 150 ft. away. My friend noted them and challenged me to take a shot. It was a long one for such a target, but I had to try. I laid the rifle down across the roof of his car and drew a careful bead. The gun went off, and a sparrow fell straight down onto the chicken house roof. No one was more amazed than I. But I remember the glowing pride I felt as my friend made exclamation after exclamation regarding my skilled aim. There was joy and pride that I actually might have an ability that was just a bit above the average teenager. I later went on to spend four years on the college rifle team sharpening that skill first developed as a non-descript farm boy.

While shooting a rifle had little applicable life consequences, there were other things that did. I remember a compelling interest in science, my first success as a writer, and the thrill of participating in youth ministry. All were early precedents for the life I have lived. While the act of discovery is an important step in seeking our calling in life, there was one step I lacked and omitted out of sheer ignorance. While it may not have seemed like much at the time, I feel it may have been far more critical than I care to believe. When we do get a sense of the gifts and abilities that God has given to us, it is important to dedicate those gifts and resultant callings to God (Rom. 12:1), asking and relying upon Him to “quicken and sharpen” those abilities (Ps. 127:1-2), not relying on our own strength (Pro. 3:5-6).

Why is this important? First of all, it gives the glory to God. Scripture makes clear over and over that the gifts of the Spirit are given for the proper functioning of the body of Christ. So, too, with natural gifts. It is not about us. When we become self-absorbed with an ability and how it magnifies ourselves, we become hard to live with, and the gift itself can be poisoned and become poison to our souls. The greater the gift and the more public the calling, the greater the danger. I believe this selfish preoccupation greatly complicates our psychological ability to cope with the pressures of juggling a talent, a calling, an ego, and the expectation to “succeed.” When we dedicate our calling to God, we recognize Him as the giver of every good gift as given for the purpose of complementing society as a whole. We become grateful for our part to play, and we learn to depend upon Him to breathe life and wisdom into our life work. It becomes no longer a matter of our own status but translates our gifts into a matter of stewardship and service. That perspective can change everything and fire our hearts to pursue excellence for His glory, not ours.

No Regrets

“But charge Joshua, and encourage him, and strengthen him: for he shall go over before this people” -Deut. 3:28

I do intend to finish my series on “callings” but life keeps interrupting. This time it is the death of an old friend. I wrote an article last year telling about my friend, Glenn, who I had known since second grade. We were an odd couple; me, the child from Sunday school and he, the wild child. Our odyssey of friendship continued over the years to the point where he called about 15 months ago and told me of his bout with cancer and new found faith in Jesus. It must have been difficult for this life-long atheist to acknowledge his error, but he stumbled his way to faith as best he could. I supported him in that as best I could. It was a topic of frequent conversation in my house as to when I should visit him up in Illinois once more before something happened. But busy schedules and hopeful remission reports always managed to put it on the back burner.

Last month, another friend sent me a newspaper clipping telling about the sale of the bulk of Glenn’s 70 acre, non-descript farm to a parks conservancy for $1.2 million dollars. He had bought the property years before when no one wanted it. I was now the friend of a millionaire. I knew it would not change his lifestyle any. He did not even own a TV. I just had to call him and kid him about being the first millionaire on our old block. His voice was weak from another dose of radiation. The cancer was back. Nevertheless, I congratulated him, and he told me it was already spent. He had set it all up in trust funds for his children. The irony was rich. Average working man struggles whole life to make do and get ahead. Gains million dollar windfall and faces death in same month. It was the kind of picture that jars the conscience of anyone nursing even the whiff of material values. So what is the really important legacy we leave? What are we striving for? What goals have we fixed our hearts upon? Glenn always appreciated the humor of situations like that. I know he must have had a good laugh signing over the checks. His gallows sense of humor had never left him … until last week.

In finishing up our phone conversation a couple of weeks ago, he confessed he didn’t know how much longer he could hang on. His goals were largely accomplished, and the struggle was intensifying. I told him to persist a little longer; that I wanted to see him one more time before he died. He agreed. I hung up the phone and started to make plans to travel north over spring break. I wrote him to tell him so on one of those sarcastic get well cards, the kind he would have liked. I enclosed a CD with a song I wanted him to hear. It was a call to praise God every morning, in the bad times and the good. Getting a small package in the mail is always clumsy for me for it meant a trip to the post office. And then there was the holiday. So finally, last Wednesday, it started on its way north. It must have arrived on Saturday. His caretaker picked up his mail for him and found his body Sunday morning. He had ended his struggle by his own hand. My package had gone unopened.

My mind went back to a Bible study just last Friday evening. “So how do you follow the leading of the Holy Spirit?” Not very well, I guess. The promptings, the delays, the slackness of hand, all haunt me now. Hours lost when hope hung by a thread. Another reminder in my life to listen to those quiet leadings now instead of later. Flowers for the living, “I love you’s” while we can, simple touches when we are led, and encouragement rendered out of instant obedience all contribute to a life of no regrets. I’m sorry, Glenn.

Amazing Grace

Check out the new movie, Amazing Grace. We loved it - Sparkling dialogue, strong acting, and a story of persistant righteousness in action: the story of William Wilberforce. My only criticism, stars of show were much too pretty (Barbie and Ken abolish the slave trade), but it does not get in the way. The portrayal of John Newton was gripping.

Callings IV

“And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” –Matt. 4:19

The last time I talked about “callings,” I emphasized the importance of a mentor who can impart both a love of a craft but also inspire the discipline required to achieve success within a particular field. While each of us would like to think of ourselves as fairly well rounded and knowledgeable in a number of disciplines, very few of us are actually “accomplished” in more than one or two areas. Thankfully we live in a free society that encourages specialization in areas where we are most gifted. Here is where I really covet the exposure of my children and yours to people who are especially talented at a particular craft and are making a living at it. There is nothing so inspiring as to see a master craftsman at work, to stand in his workplace, and to see his final product whether it be in sales, in teaching, in the factory or laboratory, or down on the farm. I remember falling in love with farming as a boy by experiencing the earthy smell of a warm dairy barn on a cold winter evening, savoring the sweet fragrance of new mown hay being put up in the mow, and watching the rich, moist earth being turned up behind me by a four-bottom plow. My more recent woodworking associations have brought me into close contact with craftsman specializing in various aspects of the craft. Each new demonstration excites in me a desire to learn a new skill and take it to the highest level. “I could do that,” I think to myself, if only I had the time.

Even for those who aspire to a professional, collegiate-path career, I still think it an invaluable experience to be exposed to a professional in their field whose shoulder is in the harness and who can impart the spark of excitement first-hand. I remember clearly the day we took a group of young people through a hospital in the Dominican Republic on a Sunday afternoon. We went in eager tourists to bring spiritual cheer. We emerged shaken, sobered to our core, tears in our eyes, and weeping in our spirits for the suffering of and minimal care afforded to the poor and downtrodden. One teen-ager felt led that evening to declare a leading to enter the medical profession, a field she could easily master. After exploring that avenue fully and turning from it, she is now quite preoccupied with foreign missions. She can’t seem to shake it and has spent serious time in Indonesia and Cambodia among the poor.

Whether it be watching a lawyer ply his craft in the courtroom, following a pastor into a ghetto, listening to a musician perform, or watching a welder create a perfect, steel seam, I am a believer in using anyone or anything to awaken the latent interests and gifts that lie within each child. I cannot do any of these things I just mentioned with a skill level that would inspire anybody. But there are others who can. I desired that my children have those experiences and meet those people who could. My son spent a semester working as an intern at the Tennessee Historical Society and several more weeks at the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. He is now an archivist with Vanderbilt University with a desire to do archival work for Wycliffe International. Daughter number one fell in love with the stage at Central High School due to a teacher who worked absolute magic with her choral groups. She went on to perform in every Bryan College play known to man and then became a choral director in the public school system. Daughter number two expressed an interest in nursing but affirmed that decision by a stint as a Certified Nursing Assistant. She is now a mother and part-time nurse with a medical group. My wife became a Spanish teacher through the influence of a high school Spanish teacher who took a special group of students to the sky with her love of the language. Be careful the people you allow your children to associate with. Either that or be purposely reckless. It could change their lives forever.

Callings Part III

"Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings….” Pro. 22:29

So what is your calling in life? This a question we have been looking at for the past few weeks and though even if we may not have managed this question very well in our own life, we owe it to our children to help them get a sense of leading and vision for their lives. It will be something they will struggle with, and they need some guidance besides Parade Magazine’s annual cover story on “How much do people make?” On the one hand, some people make huge occupational choices based purely on mercenary, economic terms. This is neither Godly nor a good recipe for a lifetime of happy, effective service. On the other hand, some follow their love of esoteric subjects without the slightest consideration for how that study would benefit society or provide a living wage. Somewhere between these poles, sound reason and God’s leading should prevail.

I ended last week with a strong exhortation to encourage hobbies in your children. They can be very valuable tools to awaken interests and inclinations. Unfortunately, playing video games does not qualify as a true hobby. Creating them would. But playing them merely enhances reaction times and visual recognition and demands little in terms of creative interaction. So much of our entertainment-obsessed culture is passive in nature. We need to look for things that awaken one’s sense of curiosity, wonder, and creativity. That can be a battle all in itself. I remember my first homemade telegraph set and the first time I took the head off of a lawn mower engine. Those were signature moments in my youth. Exciting!

But once we awaken a gift and discover a leading, we need to exercise ourselves in those gifts and leadings as “a workman that needeth not to be ashamed.” This was a source of failure in my life. I could easily have pursued a career as a research chemist if desire was all that was required. It fascinated me. It was something I was suited for in that I loved tinkering, creating, improvising, and working with unknowns. There was one thing lacking, however. I had failed to learn how to be a good student. If grades came easy, I enjoyed success. If I lacked interest or encountered difficulty, I accepted and learned to live with mediocrity. These were habits I learned in high school which became deadly in college. I quickly became disillusioned with chemistry and quit. I desperately needed coaching and encouragement in learning the discipline of applying myself as a “workman” that labors within his craft.

I have since learned that the mastery of every field of study or every basic skill involves a multitude of failures and calls for a disciplined effort to overcome them. Study, practice, patience, dedication, and consistent effort are involved in any calling. Love and a knack for a particular craft or job or skill is not enough. We have to marry that with the proper work ethic and study skills that can enable dreams to become reality. This is what makes learning to be a good student in grades K-12 so important. Whether it be math or learning to mow the lawn, every task involves a basic discipline. Being submitted to one’s teacher and learning accountability are spiritual battles that temper the soul and prepare it for greater things. What is really wonderful is when we meet a great mentor along the way who will communicate excitement for the task, a love of the craft, but also will encourage us through the learning curve, demanding just a little more than we think we are capable of doing. I pray you will think of yourself as that mentor, that coach, that craftsman, that teacher who runs alongside with both excitement and passion for the subject matter but also one who builds the discipline needed to win the prize.

Callings Part II

“You missed your calling.” How often have we used this phrase in a glib manner not knowing what damage we do. The thought that someone could go through life not operating in their gifts can bring terror to a heart, especially an old one. The whole idea of a ‘calling’ upon a life can become a mental straight jacket that binds instead of guides, that spells doom and failure instead of light and freedom. It is a concept that has to be handled carefully, but I think it is worth the risk for all of us, both old and young.

For the young, it is a challenge to desire before the Lord a place and means of service that would be of benefit to God, man, and themselves. We beseech the Lord for guidance in every other matter of life; why not our vocational choices? But it should be more than lip service. We have grown to expect that no person would ever venture into full time Christian service except that they were absolutely sure of God’s call in that respect. Why should we not desire equal certainty when choosing a career as a welder or a car salesman? When we do, we accomplish a couple of things. One, we place this choice of service upon the holiest of ground and make it a matter of great prayer, entreating the Lord with all earnestness. Secondly, we enter upon career preparation with an attitude that our occupation is to be one of service. What a difference this can make when crawling under a car to change a muffler in December. It can transform the most mundane and onerous task into something akin to ministering a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name. And we all know quite well the rewards associated with that. Thirdly, when we have a clear sense of calling in our vocation, it imbues us with the strength to endure hardship when it comes. The missionary convinced of his calling is willing to risk everything and endure all. So, too, the teacher who is sure of his calling will be able to endure the associated hardships and survive the times of testing amid a thousand and one discouraging doubts.

So, how does one find one’s calling? For some, they know from the very earliest days of their life. I have always envied them. For most of us, it is not that easy. The Puritans urged each to examine himself to see the providence and leading of God through ‘inward endowments and inclinations,’ ‘outward circumstances which may lead to one course of life rather than another,’ the advice of ‘parents, guardians,’ and to ‘nature, education, or gifts acquired’ all pondered ‘in the balance of sound reason.’ Modern man has perfected dozens of tests to reveal to us our inner gifts and inclinations. They are valuable tools. The advice of parents, trusted friends, teachers, and counselors is probably even more valuable but less utilized. Our culture of ‘rugged individualism’ (“I did it my way.”) has undermined this vital resource. How can we encourage our children to hear our counsel; we who know them best? It is an art to foster from the earliest age. They need us and all that we can tell them only too soon.

‘And education and gifts acquired.’ Here is where we preach the virtues of a well-rounded education that exposes students to subjects and activities they have never before encountered. 7th grade shop class opened up a whole world to me that I never knew existed. I learned to draw and work with wood. It stuck. Important, also, are the hobbies we experiment with at an early age. I did my first creative writing in high school. My basement was a witch’s brew of experiments in chemistry. Model trains taught me electricity. Coin collecting introduced me to history. Chess taught me logic. Reading science fiction gave me a love for science. A gun, a dog, and farm fields to wander imparted a love for nature. And making up high school Bible club skits taught me the joys of creative drama. All for free, and all before college.

Eskimo Run #4 report

There was some on-again, off-again hesitation about this weekend for fear of rain. But then there was the chance of snow so off we went. We ended up going to the Big South Fork area starting near Slave Falls and camping out in the vicinity of Jake's Place (actual location held secret). Sat. was gorgeous with everyone shedding clothing. 9 guys ended up making the trip and a good time was had by all. Most of the crew made it all the way up to the twin arches. Rock formations and views along the way were great. Fires were awesome with a well supplied stock of firewood in 20 minutes within 50 ft of fire pit. Evan's vegetable soup was a hit and all 1.5 gal. went to good use. The evening was fairly balmy and overnight temp. was around 30. Near midnight, a slight drizzle started up but then turned to light dusting of snow by morning. Around 9:00 AM, the snow started in again in more earnest with a total buildup in the back of my truck of about 1.5 " by 1:00 PM. Going out was gorgeous, hiking in the snow, seeing the mixture of green, grey, and white throughout the forest. Jim and I returned home by 3:30. The rest stayed on to do some repelling off of the cliffs near Slave Falls. They returned safely at 6:00.
This marks the 4th consecutive Eskimo Run where snow was encountered either on the ground or fresh falling. Not a bad record. Eat your heart out if you missed it. See you next year.

Callings Part I

“…it is a preposterous and brutish thing to fix or fall upon any weighty business, such as a calling or condition of life, without a careful pondering it in the balance of sound reason.” -Richard Steele, 1684

In last week’s newsletter, I impudently questioned the whole idea of a college education. How ironic that it should come from someone with three such degrees. But I did stress the idea of catching a vision for one’s life. To me it is wisdom to preach the latter rather than blindly follow our conventional cultural stampede, which trumpets the virtues of a college education with no sense of calling upon one’s life. (Our culture presses the value of literacy but has no concept of how that skill should be directed and utilized. Our forefathers taught people to read so that they could, first of all, read the Bible for themselves. Now we teach students to read and offer up a diet of any sensual trash to further their ‘skill development.’ How else do you explain “Rolling Stone” magazine and other such ilk in high school libraries?) Of course, the whole concept of calling has been extensively muddled with time since the Puritans first developed and enunciated this valuable Christian concept. We all have been in church services where someone has come forward to announce they have been ‘called’ into full-time Christian service. Everyone then responds appropriately with enthusiastic ‘amens.’ I have yet to witness someone coming forward to announce that they feel God has called them to be a chicken farmer in South Dakota. I would love to see the perplexed response of the audience if such an event ever transpired. In protestant theology, finding one’s calling as a chicken farmer is just as valid and equal cause for rejoicing as any other.

For the next couple of weeks, I would like to develop the theme of ‘finding your calling’ in these pages. It is a Puritan concept that bears examination and has been largely lost in our time. I, for one, feel that for every one time we mention ‘going on to college’ in conversation with our children (which in our house was quite often), we need to mention ‘vision’ or ‘calling’ just as often or more so. We are bending these young twigs and unashamedly so.

Our first calling is to ‘take hold of the eternal life to which you were called’ (I Tim. 6:12). We are to make sure of our spiritual calling and seek to ‘flee from the wrath to come.’ But after that, we have a temporal calling, a place of service, where we walk in a way that is beneficial to society and ourselves. The second request of the prodigal son was for the father to make him one of his hired servants. It should also be our desire to find a place of service in God’s kingdom. And here is where we often err. The whole Protestant Reformation overthrew the concept of ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ callings. All labor, whether secular or sacred, was thereafter seen as equal before God. To be a monk, nun, or priest was no different than any secular profession as to favor in God’s eyes. As William Tyndale put it, “…there is difference betwixt washing of dishes and preaching of the word of God; but as touching to please God; none at all.” The Puritans taught that God calls every man and woman to serve Him in some ‘peculiar’ employment in this world, both for their own and the common good.

I love the idea that education and all ensuing occupations are not just private choices to enhance our own status and well-being. We should never applaud a young person who desires to be a doctor because it would bring them wealth and prestige. It must be approached as a place and means of sacred service both to God and to man. Equally so, it should be the same with would-be plumbers, dental hygienists, beauticians, and, yes, chicken farmers. How often do we place vocational counseling in the context of Phil. 2:4, “Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.” If we have not, is it not time?

Vision

There is an ominous story I have been hearing repeatedly which may or may not be what you want to hear. It is in regards to the new economic horizon developing out there in a world some have been calling increasingly “flat” because of the growth of a global economy and the internet. I can tell you stories of young people going off to college and spending four years and considerable treasure to get a degree which is largely unmarketable. They then struggle finding jobs and end up in food service or various entry-level positions they easily could have taken right out of high school. The worst-case scenarios involve students who have accumulated mountainous debt while pursuing that supposedly ‘magical’ college degree.

There are many good reasons for going off to college and pursuing a liberal arts education that never translate into economic well-being. It opens your eyes to another world that exists beyond the level of high school proms and pep clubs. It exposes you to people who think deeply about things and love books and learning on a grand scale. And if pursued successfully, a college education sharpens the mind in countless ways and deepens ones understanding of the world around us. That is never a bad bargain. That is one big reason we urge our students to follow or pursue the university path. We have had no regrets in sending our children off to college, yet I am torn for young people today who feel the pressure to go to college and “amount to something” even if they have no clear vision for their life. Some end up “finding themselves” in college, but far too many pile up nothing but debt and frustration and set themselves up for keen disappointment upon graduation.

The other side of this story involves some very bright and gifted young people who have either shunned or dropped out of college and taken jobs in the general business sector. These Christian young people applied themselves in an honest and forthright manner and soon found themselves prized employees because of their values and work ethic. Before long, they were managers of stores and directors of companies. As cream rises to the top, these young people rise quickly in the ranks if for no other reason then that they don’t steal, do drugs, and lay out of work whenever it pleases them. I can’t help but compare these success stories to those just graduating college encumbered with debt and inflated expectations that can never be realized.

We are living in a changing world. A college degree used to come with guarantees. It no longer does. For those who can afford it without strain and debt, it is seldom a regret. But beware of those who sell college dreams and want you to become their indentured servant for the next ten plus years with easy loan on top of easy loan. It can be as deadly as an internet scam letter. Yes, I want to urge all our students to develop all the academic prowess they possibly can while they are in school and to aim high. But I pray that they will also seek a vision for their life. That comes through reading, working, hobbies, experiences, watching skilled people in action, and seeking the Lord. A young person with a clear vision will overcome all obstacles and not waste time in the process. Secondly, I pray they will develop Godly character. In a world that has lost its way, nothing will ensure success more than just good, Godly character. It will make a way for them when all else fails. One day, the meek shall inherit the earth. How often do I not see them inherit the company when everyone else lives but for themselves.

Ordinariness

“What shall we do, that we might work the works of God?” -John 6:28

The evening of Christmas Day found us strangely alone. We are not used to that. Typically we are awash in children and grandchildren. But we were sharing them with their other grandparents and so we went to see a movie. It almost seemed sacrilegious except that we went to see “The Nativity.” It was a beautiful film, and Christmas Day made it even more special. The scriptural highlights of the story were nice enough even though I might have done a few of them differently. But the thing that struck me most was the extent and reality of the “ordinariness” of everyday life that played out between the annunciation and the birth. In between the momentous visitation of Gabriel to Mary and the night of the nativity in Bethlehem were some nine months of cooking meals, fetching water, caring for siblings, and worries about things like taxes and friendships and, oh yes, a betrothal and the appearance of a illegitimate pregnancy. Mary was picked up and hurled out of her innocent and unassuming life into an unavoidable clash with prophecies and cynical public perceptions.

The ensuing turmoil of emotions and obligations continued unabated over the months but bereft of angelic visits or heavenly visions. How often both she and Joseph would have wished for confirmation of what they had heard. It had to be hard to have your world turned upside down with a one-minute sound bite by an angel who then left without a trace or a witness. First you get enough news to stagger a trained theologian and then it is back to milking goats or whatever. Weeks followed after weeks with no further heavenly updates. Just a fading memory of words that had to live in spite of the weeds of doubt springing up and obscuring the view. In the meantime, there were chores to be done, meals to eat, and the ever-present dust of everyday life that dirtied the feet and invaded one’s house.

So we, too, must live out those mundane days of life either clinging to the fading memory of a “burning bush” moment when we heard from God or else desperately longing for another one of those “divine moments” when a light shines out of the heavens or a still, small voice confirms the holy ground of our existence. But in between, there are faucets to fix, garages to clean out, diapers to change, wages to earn, and lunches to make. But we, like the people who tried to keep up with Jesus back and forth across the Sea of Galilee, cry out for higher tasks saying, “What shall we do, that we might work the works of God?” Enough with the diapers, lawn mowing, dish washing; we want to soar with the heavenly eagles.

God is the God of miracles, but He is also the God of the mundane. In fact, if we look at His work of creation, He spent one third of the time bringing order out of chaos and another third of the time just creating the conditions for life. I take great comfort in this, for I spend a lot of my time cleaning, organizing, sorting, and building just trying to bring order out of chaos. And then there is the feeding, washing, watering, and working which provides the essential provisions for life. When we look to “do the works of God,” we really do not need to look any farther than the example of Job, one of God’s obvious favorites. Yes, Job, the farmer, who loved God, hated evil, and raised a lot of kids: exhibit “A” in God’s debate with Satan. May you find these mundane January days imbued with the magic of knowing that in the doing of the ordinary, you may be doing the very works of God.

Children

Why and how does God pick the children to send to us? This is all rambling speculation, of course. Who would dare think such a thing and hope to know for sure. There is my disclaimer. Now, permit this foolish mind to wander. As you very well know, children come in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and personalities. No two are alike. We place our order for the normal sort and hope for the best. But, alas, some funny things happen on the way to the forum. One of my favorite songs reflecting this truth is taken from the stage play, “The Majestics.” Two neighbors commiserate about their children and the one who loves to garden complains, “You plant peas, you get peas; you plant carrots, you get carrots, but with children, you never know what you are going to get.” True, they do end up looking like various elements of the family tree with noses and eyes, ears and toes, hair and skin that reflect everyone from dad to a maternal great grandmother. But after that, the reflection pales quickly. Engineer types end up with budding artists, farmers beget physicists, teachers give birth to future plumbers, and neat freaks awake with horror at the presence of a complete litterbug in their family nest.

There is the heart and soul of my question. Is God in charge of picking out and sending us these un-returnable gifts that we cannot possibly let go of but that turn our carefully arranged worlds upside down? Now even I know that there are some limits to be observed in picking out gifts for my unique family members at Christmas. My wife does not appreciate the mystery and magic of a power tool. Grandma has no use for a new bowling ball. Our family, like yours, has seen some strange gifts at Christmas time. I got a full-size Pizza Hut delivery sign for the top of my car once. And then there was the flying pig wind catcher for the front lawn. Gift giving is challenging, and I certainly have had my moments of madness in trying to be “appropriate” as much as anyone. I take comfort at the long lines of folks returning things after Christmas knowing that I am not the only one who sometimes gets it wrong. But God surely must know who we are and what would really make us happy. Right? How could He possibly get things so screwed up at times. Was this the child we ordered or had in mind?

I am afraid of the theology that says that it is all mere chance, potluck, a roll of the dice, that brings into our lives such momentous change. Somehow, I can’t quite go there. And yet, how do I make sense of the wondrous packages that arrive in my life that so befuddle me and bring such perplexity to my otherwise comfortable mind? Could it be, oh please, that God knows what we need as well as what would make us happy? Dare I think that He would send a child into my life that would challenge me at my weakest point? I have to admit that He seems to give mates that both attract and challenge one another. I am certainly the better for having married one so unlike myself.

And did not God send His Son into our world in both form and fashion that would shake all of our carefully crafted pre-conceptions of what God would look like in human flesh? He ignored all customary protocols of royalty. He arrived, the embarrassment of a virgin. Shepherds were His heralds and strange foreign stargazers His witnesses. He soon fled, a fugitive of destructive forces He could have crushed with a whisper. And in His life, He was rejected, a man of sorrows, homeless. There was no beauty in Him that we should desire Him. Finally, accused, betrayed, and crushed, He died condemned a criminal. And yet, He was everything we needed. Everything we were not. The best gift ever. May you cherish anew all the gifts given into your life. They are all good, you know. Even the ones you can’t figure out.

Dear Jane

Dear Jane:

I am trying to imagine the bittersweet process with which you labored over the 40th anniversary cake you made for us last weekend. On the one hand, I know your love for us and how you would desire to rejoice with us in celebrating this milestone in our lives. That is just who you are. And you showed that through the skilled work of your hands and heart in crafting one of your signature cakes with all the flourishes. Our anniversary was one of those events we wished to celebrate with a “Jane ------” cake.

On the other hand, I know that this must have been painful to craft such a celebratory gift all the time knowing that you would never receive one. Your husband of many years has left and abandoned you. You will never experience the joy of a 40th anniversary. I hope you did not think it cruel of us to ask you to do this for us. I trust instead that you took this as a compliment of your craft and evidence of our belief that you still desire to rejoice with those who rejoice. Yet, I am searching for words to extend thanks, praise, and hope to a wounded soul.

Life comes with no guarantees other than the promises of God’s word. So I turn to that as you surely have done in these past dark days. I know you have asked hard questions. Was marriage worth the risk of such great pain? Did I make one great mistake or many small ones? How could I have known? All such questions are unanswerable, but they nag the soul like pestering flying insects that will not go away. These things we cannot know. But what can we know when standing in the midst of ruin and disaster?

First of all, we know that “a righteous man falleth seven times, and riseth up again (Pro. 24:16).” You will rise again if your heart is steadfast. Though this has been a grievous fall, you will once more become a strong tower of refuge for others. I believe this. I trust you can believe it as well. Secondly, we know that those who plant themselves by the rivers of living water will not wither and whatever they do shall prosper (Ps. 1:3). I cherish this promise more and more as I grow older for it says that whatever, yes, whatever turn I take in life or is forced upon me, I can still see fruit blossom forth and witness productivity flowing from my life. It is the miracle of a Moses fleeing a felony, an Abraham surviving his own fearful lies, or a Joshua succeeding in spite of being married to a rebellious and unbelieving people. Thirdly, I know that you have a special place in God’s heart for “He upholdeth the fatherless and widow (Ps. 146:9).” He will establish your borders (Pro. 15:25). And like the divorced daughter of the Levitical priest, you are entitled to return home and eat of your father’s bread (Lev. 22:13).

My prayer for you is that you will be able to tell your children that your journey was worth the pain, that lifetime marriage is still God’s perfect plan, and that love risks everything or is not love at all. To do so will require a heart of mercy on your part, but the promise is that the merciful shall obtain mercy. You are in line to obtain much.