Joy to the World

In Matthew 2 and Luke 2 we read about two groups of men who were invited to visit the newborn Jesus after his birth: the Wise Men from Matthew 2, and the Shepherds from Luke 2.  Both groups of men learned of the birth place of Jesus and visited his family in Bethlehem, and both groups of men left that encounter overflowing with joy.  In the sermon I preached this week, we learned that the source of the joy of the Wise Men and the Shepherds was not that they got to cuddle a cute baby Jesus, but rather that God was true to his word.  The Wise Men "rejoiced exceedingly with great joy" when the star came to rest over the town of Bethlehem because it was evidence that God was faithful to his promise to send the Messiah, and that he would be born in Bethlehem.  And the Shepherds came away from their encounter with Jesus "glorifying and praise God for all they had seen and heard," because everything they had seen and heard happened exactly the way that God said it would happen.

The source of the joy of the Wise Men and the Shepherds was not anything external, but rather the certain reality that God is true to his word.  When they discovered and believed this truth, all they could do was overflow with joy.

Let's face it: the Christmas season can be difficult.  On the one hand, our culture tells us to be happy and joyful, and to enjoy our friends and family and food and gifts.  But on the other hand, those times and seasons that are supposed to be happy and joyous occasions can be stressful and frustrating, and can be times when we feel our pain and suffering most deeply.  Some people weep through the Christmas season because it is the first time that they have spent the holiday without a loved one who has passed away.  It's hard to have the joy of Christmas when you're grieving loss.  Others wonder how they can have any joy in their lives when they don't agree on anything with their spouse, and they're not even close to seeing eye to eye.  Parents wonder where the joy of Christmas is when their children have wandered so far from their family and so far from God that it seems like they'll never return.  It's common for these supposedly joyful seasons of the year to instead magnify all the things in our lives that aren't going the way we'd like them to.

But like the Wise Men and the Shepherds, our joy in life should not be determined by external circumstances.  This is not to diminish the difficult things that happen in our lives, but rather to declare that the difficult things - and even the positive things - that happen in our lives cannot determine our joy.  The reason for this is that the external circumstances of our lives change.  Marriages do fall apart; families do crumble; unexpected health diagnoses do come; your body will break down over time.  So if your joy is based on the condition of your marriage or your family or your health, then prepare to live in despair.  If your joy in life is derived from circumstances, then prepare to ride a torturous rollercoaster because circumstances change, and sometimes life is downright miserable.  Sure, sometimes things go well, but give it time.

Rather than finding our joy in the circumstances of our lives, we should take our cue from the Wise Men and the Shepherds, and find our ultimate satisfaction in the faithfulness of God.  I don't mean to trivialize any of the deep and difficult troubles that you experience, but even in light of those difficulties we need to remember that God's word is true.

If you can't rejoice this Christmas because you are grieving the fresh loss of a loved one, you can rejoice because God's word is true.

If you can't rejoice this Christmas because your family is in shambles or because your marriage is falling apart or because your children are wayward, you can rejoice because God's word is true.

If you don't know what to do in your specific situation, you should rejoice that God does, and whatever he says about it is right and true.

If you don't feel like you have the strength to make it, you should rejoice in the fact that God does, and that he has promised to give you his own strength, and his promises are always kept.

If you don't feel like you could cry anymore than you have this Christmas, you should rejoice that God's word says that he is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit, and his word is true.

Those who trust in the Lord have a joy that is not derived from circumstances, but from an unshakable, indestructible trust that God's word is true.  No matter what comes down the pike in your life, you can "rejoice exceedingly with great joy" because you know that God's word is true; he is faithful to his promises.  That was the joy of the Wise Men and the Shepherds, and let that be your joy this Christmas and beyond: God is faithful; his word is true.

And the wonderful thing about Christmas is that it reminds us that anyone can have this kind of joy in their lives.  When the angel appeared to the shepherds, he said, "Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people."  The good news of the faithfulness of God is for all people.  Anyone can come to God and experience the joy of his faithfulness.  Through repentance and faith in Christ you can have the joy of knowing for certain that your sins are forgiven and that the punishment your sins deserved was taken by Jesus on the cross.  God has promised to do this for anyone who will call out to him in repentance and faith, and if you will trust in him, you too will find that God's word is true, and that will lead to your joy.  No matter what debilitating circumstances you're in at this very moment, even if your suffering is self-inflicted, this joy is for you.

It's easy to get lost in all of the cares and concerns of life and be overwhelmed by our circumstances.  It's easy to take God's faithfulness for granted.  It's easy to have an entitlement mentality when it comes to God's faithfulness to his promises.  Don't have that mentality.  Instead, allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the glorious truth that God is faithful, and that he will do what he has said he will do: he will be with you, he will strengthen you, he will provide for you, and he will help you.  That's who he is, in truth.  Let that truth wash over you, and then respond like a shepherd: glorify and praise God for all that you have seen and heard.

Joy to the world!  The Lord is come!  Let earth receive her King!  Let ev'ry heart prepare him room, and heav'n and nature sing!

Where Dead Batteries Do Not Destroy

This has been a busy week.  Backyard Bible Club has been taking up much of my time, and my family's time each day, and it's been tough to stick to our usual schedule.  But it's a good kind of busy, and I enjoy it.  Each day there are 15 preschoolers running around like maniacs in our back yard.  What's not to like?

One of the songs we've been teaching the kids throughout the week is a couple verses from Matthew six, which say: "Store up for yourselves treasure in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is there your heart will be also."  We've been encouraging the kids to treasure God all week, and not the stuff of the world.

It's interesting how, when you are teaching biblical truths to children, it's easy to go into what I'll call "teacher mode."  That is, adults tend to somewhat condescendingly teach truths to children and as though it is something for the kids to learn, and as the adults, they have already fully appropriated these truths.  That is not true of me, however, even though I sometimes teach as though I am an authority in believing and enacting the truth of God in all matters.  I'm still a sinful, flawed human being who is being perfected by Jesus, and I need to grasp the same truths that I am trying to teach the kids this week.

A little reminder of my lack of appropriating biblical truth came to me this morning in the form of a non-working car.  I had to run to the church this morning to get some things for today's lessons, and so I went.  I entered the church, got what I needed, and then went back out to my car, only to find that it refused to start.  My car has been a horse for me, and has almost never had any problems.  But here it was, on the third day of Backyard Bible Club, refusing to start.  Not too big of a problem, except my role in the four Backyard Bible Clubs is to be the gopher and go to each club and deliver materials and supplies, as well as to take pictures and shoot video of the clubs, and even to lead songs at a couple locations.  Needless to say, I was not a happy camper Bible Clubber when my car wouldn't start at the church this morning.

Providentially, my dad just happened to be turning into the church parking lot when I was having my difficulties.  He was able to give me a jump, and I was on my way.  But after I returned home and shut the car off, it wouldn't start again.  Oh well.  I got into the wife's car and started my day of driving - off to the other clubs!

When I was at the last club of the day, leading songs, I decided to take a minute to explain to the kids why Matthew 6.20 talks about moths destroying earthly treasures.  They probably didn't know about moths and the damage they can do, or about how metal corrodes.  So we talked about how things that can be damaged or destroyed -like clothes and cars - are not worthy of being our treasure, because they won't last forever.  Instead, our hearts should treasure eternal things - heavenly things.

It started to get to me when I realized I was telling the kids that the fact that something rusts is evidence that it won't last forever, and that we shouldn't treasure those things.  I thought about my car, and how disappointed I was when it wouldn't work right this morning.  Could it be that I was "treasuring" my car?  I certainly don't worship my car, but maybe I worship the convenience a car brings.  The fact that my car wasn't working this morning was a good reminder to me to not put my trust or find my satisfaction in earthly things, because one day I'll wake up and those things - like my car - either won't work or will be gone completely.  And if I am treasuring the convenience of having a car, what does that say about my heart?  Nothing good.

The lesson for me today: store up for yourselves treasure in heaven, where moth and rust (and dead batteries) do not destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Camp Miscellany

This week finds me back at Village Creek Bible Camp, in the midst of the Mississippi river valley in northeastern Iowa.  I usually find myself here 2-4 times each summer, and then probably a couple other times throughout the other seasons.  Needless to say, it's become a pretty familiar place to me.

This week I'm here with four of our church's junior high girls, attending the "Young Teen" camp.  Although we've only been here for one full day now, it's been a full day, and so I thought I'd write about a few things, in no particular order.

Sunday School saves the day.

I was able to fill in on a somewhat last-minute basis for this morning's chapel session.  I usually end up being one of the camp pastors at least one week each summer at camp, but declined the invitation this summer, citing an extra work-load due to the church's lack of a youth minister.  Be that as it may, the opportunity presented itself for me to stand in the gap this morning, and I was happy to do so.  Thankfully I had some old Sunday School lessons that I could draw from with which to fill the chapel session.

Is there a camp for introverts?

I think I've finally discovered why I was never much of a camp person as a kid, and why it still doesn't appeal to me now even as an adult.  As an introvert, being around people for extended periods of time wears me down.  But at camp, there is no escaping the people.  They are everywhere.  Campers are sectioned off into cabins, so you're always with those folks.  And when you're not hanging out with those people, you're with the larger group.  People.  Everywhere.

There's nothing wrong with this, per say, but it's hard on those of us who not only like to be alone, but need to be alone - at least for a time.  As a kid I remember a lot of people trying to talk to me and be my friend and get me to socialize when I was at camp.  But all I wanted was to be left alone.  It's not that I didn't (don't) like people - it's just that too many people for too long of periods of time overtaxes my system.

The camp environment is definitely geared toward extroverts - people who get energized by being around and socializing with others.  This is not me, however, and probably explains why I always feel so drained when I get back from a week at camp.

First world problems

I've never been much for sleeping bags, so any time I visit camp I make sure to pack bedding: sheets and blankets.  The beds at camp are, shall we say, less than desirable, both in aesthetic appearance and physical comfort.  If nothing else, a week at camp will help you count your blessings of having a nice, comfortable bed.  

The Mrs. packed my bedding for me this time, and unbeknownst to me, she packed a sheet for a twin sized bed.  Well, the room I'm staying in has a full size bed.  And try as I might, a twin sized sheet does not fit on a full sized bed, which means I get to sleep on a bear mattress.  Yay.  But even then, I can count my blessings, as there are undoubtedly millions of people around the world laying their heads on bear ground.  Thank God for mattresses.

Camp Cramps

For the past several months I've been trying to incorporate physical exercise into my regular routine.  This started out with some "core" exercises earlier in the year, which were going along swimmingly until I somehow injured my knee.  I had to put my exercises on hold for a while, whilst my body healed up.

From there I discovered the Kettlebell, a very fun to use and challenging piece of exercise equipment.  I started using that on a regular basis, and was making quite a bit of headway with it, until my shoulder started hurting me.  So again, I was sidelined by injury.

After those two injuries, I decided to go back to the basics, i.e. walking and running.  We do own a treadmill, after all, so I took to it.  I started out by doing a few weeks worth of faster-than-normal walking, gradually increasing the pace.  After I was confident that my stamina had increased sufficiently, I purchased a "Couch to 5K" app for my phone.  This is a nifty little app that trains you to be able to run - all the way up to 3.2 miles at a time (or whatever 5 kilometers is).  I completed the first week of this training with flying colors, and was excited by the progress I was making.

The second week came, and during the middle of the week of my running training, I began to feel some pain on the inside portion of both of my knees.  I didn't think much of it at first, but the next time I got on the treadmill that week, the pain was enough to make me stop my exercises.  A couple days later, and I could barely climb a flight of stairs, my knees hurt so bad.  So again, I was sidelined by injury.

It should be noted that before I took on any of these exercise regimens I made sure that I was doing the necessary stretching and pre-workout warmups so as to prevent injury.  But alas, it was not to be.

Anyway, after about a month off now, I feel ready to get back on the horse, so to speak.  I thought that my time at camp would be a great way for me to get back in the swing of things, at least as far as walking was concerned.  So this afternoon I made a point of taking a walk down the long gravel road that leads out of the camp.  I determined to gauge the length of my walk by time, and not by distance.  In other words, by noting the time when I left, I would know when I needed to turn back in order to be back at the camp for any relevant activities.

I took off at about 1:40 in the afternoon and just started walking.  Every once in a while I would stop to pick up an agate off the road, or look at some interesting wildlife (such as a huge caterpillar I found, and a fearless butterfly that would not move an inch out of my way, and even some guinea hens that a local farmer was raising).  At about 2:35 I figured it was time to turn around, as I needed to be back at the camp in plenty of time for supper (priorities, right?).

About half the way back, I noticed that my left foot was just a little soar, but I didn't think much of it.  After all, I was walking on a gravel road that was rather uneven, so my feet were coming down on the ground at different heights.  To correct for the discomfort, I moved to the other side of the road so that my right foot would bear most of the burden of the extended reach required to walk the road.

But this didn't help much.  As I kept going, the pain got worse, and worse, until I finally got back to camp.  When I did so, I hopped in my car and retraced my steps in my vehicle in order to determine just how long my walk was.  By the time I had driven to the point where I stopped walking, I had gone 2.4 miles.  This meant that my entire walk was 4.8 miles.  I was quite pleased with myself.  But my foot still hurt.

It felt good to be sitting down in my car after such a long walk, so I decided to sneak back to my room and take a short nap before supper, which I did.  By the time I woke from the nap and put my feet on the ground to go to the dining hall, my left foot was screaming in pain.  From just below my ankle all the way to my pinky tow, the pain on the side of my foot was excruciating - bad enough to cause me to limp as I walked.  I thought about it, and couldn't figure out what could be causing such discomfort.  I didn't twist my foot or walk in an peculiar way that would cause this kind of pain.  And my shoes were the ones that I have worn time and again without any discomfort.  What was causing this?  Even now, as I lay in bed typing this post at 10:00 at night, the pain still lingers and I haven't the slightest clue as to why my foot hurts.

Oh well.  Such is life when you're at camp!

Cameroonian Connection

I had a fun experience today.

Since September I've been working on losing weight, and have been moderately successful in the endeavor.  This has precipitated a need for newer, smaller clothes, and has rendered my older, bigger clothes somewhat obsolete.  Since clothes for bigger (read: fat) people are, well, bigger than normal sized people clothes, they tend to be more expensive.  Significantly more expensive.  After all, there's more of us to cover, so more raw materials are needed.

Because of the expensive nature of my clothes, I figured I'd try to sell some of the ones I'm not using anymore on Craigslist, and kind of have my very own fat guy's online garage sale.  So I posted an ad with several pieces of clothes that I don't can't wear anymore.

A couple of days ago, I got a bite.  I connected with a gentleman through email and then by phone.  We made arrangements to meet together at my home today.  As I spoke with him on the phone, I noticed he had an accent, but I couldn't place it.  When he came to my door this afternoon, it was obvious that he was some sort of native African.  He was an older gentleman who walked with a cane and a limp, and had a great voice to go with his accent, and an overall very friendly disposition.

After he came in and started to look at the clothes I had for sale, and as the conversation flowed between the two of us, he shared that he was originally from Cameroon.  This tidbit led me to share with him that there were several people in my denomination who either had served as missionaries to Cameroon in the past, or were currently serving there.  We were able to talk a lot about it: why he left his native country, what he did there, his kids, his wife, his desire to some day return to his homeland, the cultural challenges he and his wife face in the U.S., and basically his whole life story.

It turns out that his reason for leaving Cameroon and his limp were related.  He was a journalist by trade in Cameroon, but got caught up in some scrapes with the current governmental regime in the country.  This led to some violence that was perpetrated against him, and in the process he injured his hip and would eventually need a replacement.  Immediately after this incident he left the country and never looked back.  His love for his homeland was evident, and he talked quite a bit about wanting to go back...someday.

As he talked some more about his native country, I relayed a bit of information that I had learned about Cameroon from some of our NAB missionaries when they have visited our church.  I told him about Dennis and Nancy Palmer, and their work at the Banso Baptist Hospital in Mbingo, Cameroon.

When I said "Mbingo" his eyes lit up, and he exclaimed, "You know Cameroon!"  It turns out that he knows all about the hospital and had a lot of positive things to say about it.  It was fun to talk about Cameroonian missions with this guy whom I've never met, who lived half a world away, but was now finding something in common with me in my living room.  It was fun.

As he left, he said, "I hope we meet again someday," and I said the same to him.  It was a fun meeting, and to think, it was brought about by nothing more than fat clothes and Craigslist!

Celebrating Rejection

My church, Riverview Baptist, is in the midst of a search for a new youth and young adult minister.  We posted a position description on three prominent websites about three weeks ago, and have since been receiving several resumes from prospective candidates.  Just this week we paired down the candidates list, removing those who, for whatever reason, would not move on to the interview phase.  I had the somewhat unhappy task today of sending out rejection letters to these candidates.

I had never written a rejection letter  before, so I did a little research on the internet to see what I was dealing with.  I found some helpful advice, and even some templates, but all of these were written from a man-centered business philosophy.  They were full of language like, "We appreciate your skill set, but..." or "You would make a great asset for a company, however..."  And then the letter would go on to suggest that the person would be a great addition to another company, or that maybe they could apply for a different position in the same company, or maybe a similar position at a later date.  The letters all concluded with apologetic language that made me feel sorry for the person being rejected.

I decided I didn't want to write a letter like that.  Rather, I wanted to write a letter that I would want to read and be encouraged by if I were the one being rejected - one that communicates what needs to be communicated, but also points the reject (sorry for the term) toward the sovereignty of God in all things - even job applications.  So here's what I came up with for the closing line of my rejection letter:

"We continue to pray that God will use you for great things in his kingdom as his plan for your life unfolds."

The Christian should be able to handle rejection, or the unexpected, or perhaps the undesirable way things turn out much better than the non-believer.  As Christians, we believe that God sovereignly ordains all things, and that there are no accidents, and that everything that happens is God's will, and that his will is what is best for us - even when his will is somewhat difficult to accept.

There's a simple formula to remember when considering how we know what is God's will and what isn't.  It's like this: if something happens, it was God's will; if something doesn't happen, it wasn't God's will.  Seems simple, I know, and it is, but think about it: God always gets his way.  God's will is always carried out.  God doesn't ever end up frustrated because things didn't shake out the way he thought they would.  No, everything that happens, happens precisely because it is exactly what God wanted to happen.  So to those of us who have received a rejection letter in the past, and when we receive one in the future (because everyone does), take heart: it was not God's will that you have that job.  How do I know that?  Because if it was God's will, it would have happened.

(Note: there is a difference, however, between God's perfect will [what he righteously desires] and his permissive will [what he allows].  The two are not the same, and should not be confused, but an explanation of these differences is beyond the purview of this post.  Either way, the point that Christians can celebrate - sometimes in tears, and sometimes in joy - whatever happens remains valid)

In this sense, the believer can celebrate rejection.  Not that it feels particularly good to be rejected, but we can at least have some comfort in the fact that God is doing things, and for whatever reason, in his infinite wisdom, this wasn't one of them.  We can also rejoice in the reality that God does what is always best for us, both now (in the rejection) and in the future, whatever it may hold.

The Blessing of a Burglary

A couple weeks ago The Mrs. and I both had busy days.  It was a Saturday, and we were both running here and there, doing errands, taking the kids places, grocery shopping, going to church, and so on and so forth.  By the time we were both home, we had both parked our cars outside the garage, assuming that there would be more errands to run later in the day.  As it turned out, neither of us ended up going anywhere for the rest of the day, and neither of us remembered that our cars were parked outside.  We almost always park our cars in the garage, and very seldom leave them outside overnight.  We figure we have a garage so we might as well use it.

The following morning, which was a Sunday, I sped off to church at about 7:30 AM.  The Mrs. came later with the young'ns.  As I met her at church, she said she was "having issues."  What were the issues?  It turns out that, sometime during the previous night, someone had jimmied her car door open and went through some stuff.  They ended up taking a purse-like bag that was on the seat (which, oddly enough, was filled with her Children's Church materials).  But other than that, nothing else appeared to be missing.  We counted our blessings and went on with the day, contacting the police that afternoon just to let them know of the break-in.

At lunch that afternoon, The Mrs. asked me to purchase some 1X8 boards for a craft project she had for her kids at school.  She asked me to cut the boards into one foot sections, which I said was no problem. After lunch, I went to the lumber yard, secured the wood, and took it home.  A quick change of clothes after arriving at home found me out in the garage with the wood set up on my sawhorses.  I went to the shelf that held my circular saw, but noticed something strange: it wasn't there.  Neither was my jig saw. Neither was the case for my cordless drill.  I spun around and looked throughout the rest of the garage.  Huh.  My table-top bandsaw was also missing from its perch.  A quick perusal of the rest of the garage revealed that there was other stuff missing too - a lot of stuff.  In addition to the missing power tools, two of my toolboxes were gone, one containing miscellaneous hand tools, the other containing all of my socket wrenches and sockets, which are probably my most commonly used tools.  Needless to say, the thieves walked away with quite a haul.  Over $500.00 in tools.

After doing all the necessary work with police, and finding out that my homeowner's insurance deductible was more than $1500.00, the words of Matthew Henry came to mind: "Let me be thankful, first, because he never robbed me before; second, because although he took my purse, he did not take my life; third, because although he took what I possessed, it was not much; and fourth, because it was I who was robbed, not I who robbed."

I've used this quote before in some of my sermons.  Now I got to live it out.

As I pondered Henry's words, I began to realize how much of a non-event this robbery was to me.  I really didn't care.  It's not that I enjoyed being robbed, but more that I realize that the stuff that was taken from me is...well, just stuff.  I don't judge the value of my existence by the stuff that I have.

This morning my mom brought up the burglary to me again in conversation.  It wasn't until she mentioned it that I realized I hadn't even thought of the event pretty much since it happened.  I also realized that I'm not really bitter about being robbed, nor do I necessarily miss the stuff that was taken.

It should be noted that this would not have always been my typical reaction.  In the past I most likely would have responded in anger and resentment, wishing to exact vengeance upon those who would dare to steal from me.  This time, I'm just kind of like..."Meh."  What's happening to me?  I suppose one option is that I'm just becoming increasingly cold and calloused as I get older.  The other option, and what I think is actually happening, is that I'm growing in holiness.  God is increasingly growing in me a desire for eternal things, and as a result, I value and desire temporal things less and less.  This is the process of sanctification.

I'm glad I got to have this experience.  In a very real sense, the burglary was a blessing.

Ride Along

About six weeks ago I officially became a chaplain for the West St. Paul and Mendota Heights police departments.  Pastor Wick suggested I join him and five other local ministers as a police chaplain, and I gladly obliged.

Police chaplains in these jurisdictions basically do whatever they can to help the officers, with their primary duty being death notifications and counseling people who have experienced the loss of a loved one.  In other words, if there's a fatal car accident, or if the police are called to a scene where a death has occurred, they will call the chaplain on duty and he or she will come to the scene to help out in any way they can.  Usually this just means being present for the people involved, thereby freeing up the officers to get back to their jobs.  From what I hear, there are three or four "call-outs" every quarter or so.  I have yet to be called.

A secondary duty of the chaplains is to get to know and support the West St. Paul and Mendota Heights police officers.  One of the best ways to do this is to go on ride alongs, or in other words, hang out with an officer while he's on duty in his squad car.  I got a chance to do this yesterday.  It was my first such ride along, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, and enjoyed my time with Officer Todd Rosse.

Truth be told, I was a little nervous leading up to the ride along.  I had never been in a police car before, plus I wasn't quite sure what to expect.  What would I do if we got into a "situation?"  I guess it would be a trial by fire kind of experience.  It turns out my trepidation was uncalled for, as Officer Rosse basically just drove me around his jurisdiction and told me about himself, and what it's like to be a cop.

There were a few times where my heart started beating a bit faster, though.  One time we were driving through a pretty crowded parking lot, and there was a unseemly character staring down the squad car pretty intensely.  "Looks like that guy is eyeballing me," Officer Rosse said.  He quickly ran the plate of the car, and the computer came back saying it belonged to a female whose license was suspended.  But because it was a man in the vehicle, and no female was present, we didn't make a stop.  Plus, I guess simple knowledge of a suspended license isn't enough to stop someone.  There needs to be some kind of infraction.

Another time we were driving down a road and the dash-mounted radar gun pegged the oncoming vehicle as being 15 miles per hour over the speed limit.  Officer Rosse quickly made a U-turn and floored it.  But we were too late.  By the time we reached the top of the next hill, the car was gone, presumably having turned to the right or the left before it was back in our field of vision.  Needless to say, I had some adrenaline pumping!

The only other item of interest from the ride along came toward the end of the night, as we observed what appeared to be some teenagers sneaking around a building.  We went around the block and pulled up slowly to try and see them.  Turns out they were sneaking up on some friends with water guns.  No harm done.

All in all, it was a great experience, and I look forward to my next ride along, and to whatever ways I can serve these great people in our police departments.

A (Worshipful) Comedy of Errors

It's been a week since my most recent sermon at Riverview.  Whenever I fill the pulpit I try to write a post about the content of the sermon I preached.  For whatever reason I haven't gotten around to writing that post yet.  Well, I just downloaded the podcast of my sermon from last week, so I thought this would be an opportune time to say a few words.

I need to start off by saying that it's a good thing that God doesn't accept our worship based upon the level of technical perfection it is conducted in, nor does he give demerits for uncontrollable technical glitches.  Thank goodness that Jesus' blood and righteousness are what make our worship acceptable, because if God's standard for acceptable worship were functional microphones and technical perfection, then Riverview Baptist Church would have been up a creek last week!

First of all, it was a crazy service.  There were several technical snafus, not to mention that it was a very full and detail oriented service.  Several things had to go a certain way in order to "work."  To begin with, the Pioneer Girls group was presenting a black light puppet show during the service for the children's story.  This meant that we had to try and black out as much natural light from the sanctuary as possible, which meant quite a bit of work beforehand, plus all of the platform furniture was either moved or removed, and there were plenty of black light decorations all over the stage.

Things went crazy during the service too.  Rich, our multi-media guy, came down right as the service was about to begin and told me the computer had frozen, and it was going to be a solid five minutes before it was back up and running.  This was a bit concerning, considering that a lot of our announcements are fueled by visuals on the screen.  Moreover, we were showing an Operation Christmas Child video during the announcements.  Rich told me I needed to kill some time during the announcements to allow time for the computer to reboot.  I did, but apparently it wasn't enough.  The computer was still hiccuping by the time we were ready to show the video.

After all that, our sound guy, Craig, signaled to me from the sound booth that my microphone wasn't on.  I signaled back that, in fact, it was turned on.  He then signaled back that I had it on "mute mode."  I signaled back again that no, I didn't.  This wouldn't be too much of an issue, had I not been responsible for the corporate prayer that morning, which I was.  This means I had to pray corporately for the church, which is somewhat hard to do without any voice amplification.  During a silent prayer time, Craig snuck down and gave me a new wireless mic, and told me to plug my mic cord into the new receiver.  I couldn't get my cord to plug into the mic!  So, out of desperation, I picked up one of the hand-held mics, which unbeknownst to me, was wrapped around the music stand I was standing in front of.  The mic cord had no slack, and as I drew it to my face, the taut cord pulled the mic from my hand and it bounced loudly off the music stand (did I mention this was during the silent prayer time?).  The foam wind protector on the mic fell off and rolled onto the floor (four feet below the platform).  It turned out that this particular microphone was having problems too, so I ended up just shouting out the corporate prayer for the morning.

After the prayer, I invited the congregation to stand and sing the doxology in preparation for the offering.  As the piano and organ played the introduction to the doxology, out of the corner of my eye, I could see someone ascending the stairs to the platform.  I looked, and was more than surprised to see my three year old daughter coming to greet me on the platform.  She had left her seat, gone and picked up the foam wind protector from the handheld microphone, and brought it to me on the platform.  According to my wife, she was very distressed when I dropped the mic earlier and the foam wind cover fell off, and she felt it was very important to return it to me.  The Mrs. told her to go get it and hand it to me after the prayer.  In the mind of my three year old, this meant to bring it to me on the platform, which she did.  Needless to say, I was quite surprised to see her up there!

After the doxology, and during the offertory, I slipped into the back room (because there was nowhere to sit on the platform.  Craig, the sound guy, was waiting for me, with yet a third wireless mic.  He explained that the cord from my original wireless mic had shorted out, and that's why it wasn't working with any mic he gave me.  But here he was, with a fresh and working mic and cord, which I quickly clipped to my tie.

Then, after coming up with a makeshift children's story to introduce the black light puppet show, the kids came on and did a fantastic job.  Take a look.

After each service, it's traditional for the preaching pastor to meet exiting worshipers at the door for a handshake, which I dutifully did (although I always get out of there as fast as possible - no offense to Riverview folks, but have you ever shook 200 hands in a row?  You tend to want to wash your hands as soon as you can).  This time, one person who was in the service and had heard my sermon simply came up to me and asked me where the book of 2nd Colossians was located in the Bible.  I didn't understand.  That's a strange question to ask.  After all, my sermon was from Colossians 2.

Uh oh.

He said that I had mentioned at the beginning of the sermon that we were "continuing our study of 2nd Colossians."  No.  Not possible, I thought.  I must've said something like, we're "continuing our study of the 2nd chapter of Colossians."  Surely I would never say something as stupid as referring to 2nd Colossians - a book that doesn't even exist.

Although, when I look back on it, it's not too surprising that I would say something like that in a sermon.  Whenever I preach, I tend to get in a zone where all I'm focusing on is the sermon, and what I am saying.  I find that if I don't pretty much know what I'm going to say during a sermon, then it's anybody's guess what is going to come out of my mouth.  Therefore, if you ever hear me preach, you can pretty much know that almost every word I say is prepared before hand.

This zone, however, can tend to tie me down and make me oblivious to what is happening around me, and even to what is coming out of my mouth.  Sometimes I think I can get so concerned about what I am going to say, that I don't realize what I've actually said.  It seemed possible to me  that something like this could have happened here, although I wasn't going to believe it until I heard the recording for myself.

Well, as I said earlier, I just downloaded the podcast.  Here's a transcript of the first 11 words of my sermon from this past week:

"We're continuing on, this morning, in our study of second Colossians..."

Oops.

Oh well.  Like I said: if nothing else, we can rejoice that the acceptable-ness of our worship is not dependent upon us doing it well.  Thank God for that!

Pheasant Season

For the past four or so years I have made a point of joining some other guys that I know in an annual pheasant hunt.  I first went pheasant hunting maybe four or five years ago, and quickly discovered that it was something that I very much enjoyed doing.  I didn't have a shotgun of my own, however, and was always forced to borrow one from a friend.  I have since purchased my own gun, some minimal hunting equipment, and have more than enough desire to put it to good use.  This year's trip was just this past weekend, on October 26-27.  This year I was able to shoot my fill of birds, and as a result I have five smoked pheasants in my freezer as I type.

Pheasants are one of my favorite animals to hunt.  I have tried deer and small game hunting before, but have 1) never had any success, and 2) I am not a fan of sitting around in a tree all day, doing nothing, waiting for the deer to come to me.  There's a lot more action with pheasant hunting, and even if you don't flush any birds, at least your walking and moving around constantly.  This helps with keeping warm, and it just makes the hunt go faster.  I've also had the chance to hunt turkeys a few times, and have been successful once.  Turkey is also a very fun animal to hunt, but for different reasons that I'll save for a post after the next time I go turkey hunting.

Plus with pheasant hunting, there's just more going on at one time.  Pheasants are usually hunted with dogs.  Dogs run through corn and tall grass, trying to scare pheasants out of their hiding spots.  A pointing dog will find one, and when he does, his whole body will freeze, with his snout pointed toward the pheasant.  Watching this whole process happen is incredibly interesting.  It's fun to see these very well trained dogs do their thing.  And by all accounts, the dogs enjoy the hunt more than the people.

Also, pheasant hunting is easy!  It's got to be one of the easiest kinds of hunting out there.  Even people who don't particularly shoot very well can find success in pheasant hunting.  Pheasants are rather large birds (about the size of a chicken) and they don't move very fast, making them rather large targets.

It's a good chance to get together and hang out with other guys who enjoy the sport.  Our hunts usually consist of an overnight trip, which means we stay at the lodge the night before the hunt.  This night is usually full of good conversation, a lots of laughs, and card games.  This year was no exception.  The lodge we stayed at had a game dinner all set up and ready for us when we arrived.  We had pheasant, duck, mashed potatoes, dressing, and coleslaw.  It was fantastic, although I can say that I definitely prefer pheasant to duck.  Even so, very tasty.

Pheasant is very good eating.  There are many types of game that don't taste very good.  We have been conditioned to basically only enjoy corn-fed beef and chickens who have been fattened on quality food.  What an animal eats matters - it affects the way it tastes when consumed by humans.  Pheasants, however, have a naturally very good taste.  They taste like, you guessed it: chicken.  But they are wild animals that taste like chicken, and you don't get that too much when eating wild game.  The club that we hunt with offers to clean and smoke the pheasants we shoot, which I've always taken advantage of.

I enjoy this new found past time of mine, and I hope to keep it up for years to come.

Thoughts on Turning 32

Today is my thirty-second birthday, or as I like to put it: I'm thirty-two years closer to the grave.  The Mrs. always gets on my case for putting it this way, presumably because it focuses on death rather than life, which I guess I can understand.  It's interesting to think though, assuming I live to the average male life expectancy - 72 years of age - that I am only four years away from having lived half my life.  Aging adds perspective.  Or as I've heard it put, birthdays are reminders to get busy.

What's it like to be 32?  So far it's a lot like being 31.  In fact, the thirty-second anniversary of the day of my birth has been rather uneventful, and that's fine with me.  I woke up at the usual time and got the young'ns some vittles, then brought the oldest to preschool and dropped the youngest off at her play date.  Then I went home and did some cleaning up around the house.  Went and got the kids and had lunch.  Now they're napping and I'm posting.  Pretty normal.

I was made aware today, however, that the date of my birthday is 10-11-12.  So that's kind of neat.  On the other hand, I also learned that the day of my birth is National Coming Out day, so I guess that's pretty special too.  

As far as the spiritual implications of turning another year older are concerned, I was doing some reading this afternoon and came across Psalm 71.17-18.  Seems like a pretty good prayer for my thirty-second year: "O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds.  So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come."

These verses have been increasingly played out in my life up to now in one way or another.  I have definitely learned of the glorious deeds of the Lord, even from my youth.  And so now, with an increasing number of gray hairs, and an ever-increasing experience of the faithfulness of God, I pray that he does not forsake me, and that he might extend my life for the sake of his glory amongst the next generation, particularly my children.

Thinking About Bullying

This video has gone viral, and several of my Facebook friends were posting it in their feed as recently as last night, all with positive comments for the woman in the video.  It got me and The Mrs. thinking about the topic of bullying last night.

The focus on bullying as a social behavior is a more recent trend.  Certainly bullying is not new, nor has it just recently come into existence or into the general knowledge of the public.  Bullying has been around as long as there have been people on earth, and everyone has known about it.  In recent years, however, the topic of bullying has garnered more and more attention in the public realm.  We hear about it on the news, and there are even movies and documentaries being made on the subject.  I think it's safe to say that the level of attention bullying has been given in schools and even in the public square has increased dramatically since I was a kid.  While I was taught to respect others and their differences when I was in elementary school, kids nowadays are going through all kinds of education on bullying and its sometimes devastating results.  Why the shift?  Why has bullying become such a prominent and public issue?

First I think we need to know what a bully is.  The online Merriam Webster's dictionary defines a bully as "A blustering, browbeating person; especially one habitually cruel to those who are weaker."  By this definition, everyone in the United States of America either is, or at least has been, a bully.

Think about it: did you ever make fun of kids when you were a kid?  I certainly did.  I was even "habitually cruel" to some kids.  Maybe you're even a bully now.  Ever experience road rage?  Ever yell at a driver for doing something you think is stupid and then retaining that anger for a while?  Is there a co-worker of yours that is nerdy and weird, and you and other co-workers talk about him or her behind their back?  Do your kids ever irritate you so much that you are irrationally angry with them and give them a punishment they don't really deserve?  If you've answered yes to any of these questions, then you, my friend, are a bully.

But if the definition of a bully is so broad as to encompass all people in the country, and if we all either have been or currently are bullies by definition, then why is there such an intense focus on bullying at the present time?  It can only be that the type of bullying that is being brought into focus through the news media and in schools is something different than what I've just described above.

In one sense, bullying has become an issue that has been brought to the forefront for the simple reason that the way people (children and teenagers in particular) respond to bullying has changed drastically.  Rather than crying, being a loner, or enlisting the help of friends or adults to take a stand against a bully, kids nowadays respond to bullying with measures of their own violence, cutting, or even by taking their own lives.

Furthermore, the things that kids are bullied for nowadays are different from even when I was child (which I like to think wasn't that long ago).  When I was in third grade, I was made fun of quite a bit for wearing a Super Man belt.  I told my dad what had happened, and he told me kids were making fun of my belt because they were jealous of it.  That explanation worked for me at the time, and I wore my Super Man belt with pride.  In my later elementary years I was teased more for my size.  I was larger than most other kids (horizontally and vertically) and they pointed it out to me quite a bit (although not too much, as size does have its advantages!).  And let it be known that I did my own share of teasing as a kid, even on into my teenage years, and the objects of my scorn were those who were different, dirty, weird, or undesirable in some way.  Nowadays kids can not only be bullied for the same things I was bullied for, but also for sexual orientation, weight, race, etc.  The stakes seem to have been raised, and kids (and adults, for that matter) are responding differently.

But while this may be true, and I do agree that bullying is a serious issue worth addressing, there are also some elements of the current conversation around bullying that I think need to be thought out, spoken about, and taught more.

1. Bullying can be a two-way street.  It's perhaps not surprising (at least not to me) that those who are victims of bullying can also become bullies themselves by the way they respond to bullying, and often times their bullying is directed toward those bullies who bullied them (wow, there's a lot of bullies in that sentence).  That is, while I believe it is right and good to stand against bullying, I think we need to have a careful and measured answer for how to respond to bullying.  The proper response to a bully is not to disparage him or her publicly, or to return the bullies actions or words in kind.  I even wonder if the newscaster in the video linked to at the beginning of this post was crossing the line by addressing the issue publicly on television.  Obviously she was using the occasion as a spring-board to launch into a speech about how bullying is serious and detrimental, but at what cost?  Did she become what she was speaking against by calling out the man who bullied her in front of thousands?  Or was it really wise for her husband to post the letter on the man's Facebook page?  I'm not saying she did become a bully by doing these things, but I think it's something worth thinking about.  I just wonder if it wouldn't have been a more effective stand against bullying if she had simply deleted the email as soon as she received it.  If we are teaching kids (or adults) to respond to bullies with scorn, disdain, and general hatred, we are doing a disservice to our children, and are, in fact, teaching them to be bullies.  What we need is a good dose of Matthew 5.21-22 and 38-42 taught to our kids, but let's not hold our collective breath.  If nothing else, I think there needs to be some careful thought about how we respond to bullying.

2. The negative impact of bullying is directly related to the victim's propensity to be bullied.  In other words, bullies only have as much power as is given to them by their victims.  When my dad told me that other kids made fun of my Super Man belt because they were jealous of it, I couldn't have cared less about their derogatory comments toward me and my belt.  I refused to let them bother me about it.  Now, it would be too simplistic to say that we can cure bullying by instructing kids to not take offense at the words and actions of those who wish to do them harm.  There are some bullies that will be relentless in their bullying, even if no acknowledgement is given by the victim.  But I think this is an important point to consider in the conversation: bullies are only as powerful as we allow them be.

3. We need more thorough definitions of terms.  In one sense, the anti-bullying campaigns are somewhat unsettling to me - not because I endorse bullying, but because I'm not really sure what bullying is.  As homosexuality and other issues become more culturally acceptable and mainstream it will become increasingly unpopular to oppose them.  As schools and other public forums increasingly embrace a "tolerance" mindset that prohibits any dissension from pro-gay norm for example, will my children be labeled as bullies if they speak out about their belief that homosexuality is wrong (see point number one above)?  In a world where Christian organizations are openly labeled as hate groups for being "anti-gay," is it really a stretch to think that my kids will some day be labeled as bullies for supporting the biblical view of marriage?  Again, something to think about before we jump on the anti-bullying bandwagon.  In a lot of ways, the anti-bullying message sounds a lot like the tolerance nonsense we hear in media and in culture.  This is why we need a better definition of terms before we go about branding people with the bully label.  Who is a bully?  And what must one do to be a bully?  Physically harm someone?  Verbally or emotionally harm someone?  Disagree with someone?

It should be noted that in order for me to watch the video that I linked to at the beginning of this post, the website the video is hosted on popped up a window on my screen that had a survey question on it.  The site wouldn't let me watch the video without looking at the question.  It said this: "I support equality for all.  I believe everyone should be treated equally, regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation."  Below the statement there are two options to choose from: either "Agree" or "Disagree."  That's the most loaded question I've ever heard.  I, for one, absolutely agree that everyone should be treated equally, regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation.  But I do not agree that "treated equally" means allowing homosexuals to marry.  So I can either agree with the statement or disagree and be labeled a bigot (bully?).  Take your pick. I just hope the current conversation about bullying doesn't go the way of the tolerance insanity that we're currently dealing with in our culture.

So how should we think about and respond to bullying?  I'm certainly not saying I have all the answers, but I am saying it's something we should keep thinking about, as it is a topic that has far-reaching implications - both for me as a person and also as a parent.

The Challenge of Christian Community

I recently read this though provoking article over at The Resurgence and it brought to mind some of the discussions I had while implementing Riverview's current small groups ministry that just kicked off about a month ago.  I had the opportunity to preach and teach on the topic of fellowship, both in the context of a month-long Sunday School class and through a three-week sermon series.  I think I was able to communicate somewhat effectively what Christian fellowship looks like in the church.

There are some realities that we all need to recognize before we even try to have fellowship or community with other people.  For example, we all need to realize that we are all different people with a different set of desires, influences, and preferences, and we bring a virtually limitless set of ways of thinking to the table.  Secondly, we all need to realize that we are all sinners in need of grace - both from God and from one another.  Thirdly, and most importantly, we are all sinners saved by grace who have been adopted into a new community - a new family - that sets us apart from the rest of the world.  In essence, we have fellowship with one another in this community - we find commonality in Christ.  The gist of the article linked to above is that our fellowship - our community - is found only in Christ and in nothing else.  In fact, if we try to find commonality with one another in anything but Christ, then one of two things will happen:

1. We won't experience true, biblical fellowship.  Why not?  Because we are finding commonality in something that is not foundational and eternal.  Say, for example, that I like bass fishing.  Throughout the course of several church or small group meetings, you and I get together several times, and as we come to know each other over time, we discover that we both are absolutely enthralled with bass fishing.  We have found common ground.  We even schedule a few trips to go bass fishing together, and our friendship deepens.  Is this biblical fellowship?  Nope.  But we're friends, and we're hanging out together - we're fellowshipping!  It's still not biblical community.  Why not?  Because our common ground is bass fishing - not Jesus.  In order to have biblical fellowship with people, it must begin and end with Jesus.

2. Our efforts toward fellowship will fail.  Let's continue on with our bass fishing scenario.  Let's say that you and I have been fellow bass fishermen for a few years now, and we've enjoyed several trips together.  But over time, as we've learned more and more about each other, I've discovered that there are some things about you that, actually, really irritate me.  For example, you talk when we're trying to fish.  You also have a totally different philosophy from me as to where the best bass fishing takes place.  Not only that, but as we've been out on the water together and have talked more, I've discovered that our political preferences are actually quite different.  We think rather differently.  And the more I think about it, I don't really like you.

Fellowship that is found in anything but Christ will ultimately fail because the worldly things that we can have in common are not transcendent enough for you and I to accept our differences and love one another.  We may have some things in common, but there are also several things we don't have in common, and if we're honest, those differences have the potential to divide and separate us.

This latter point played itself out after one of my Sunday School sessions on the topic.  After each Sunday School session and sermon on the topic I was approached by members of the congregation who were thinking through what I was saying, and had some follow-up questions.  One of the questions was, I thought, intriguing, and it took me a while to figure out at the time.  The question went something like this: "There are some people that are just so different from me that it is impossible to have fellowship with them.  How can I have fellowship with people who seemingly come from another planet than I do?"  The answer is, you can't.    You simply cannot build community with people when you are trying to find something in common with them, because at some point, your similarities will break down and your differences will be exposed, and you will find that those differences will be enough to drive you apart.  Every time we try to find fellowship with people based upon earthly commonalities, it is doomed to failure.

But, if I have Jesus in common with people - even those who are seemingly from another planet - we have something to talk about!  If you and I come together and share no similarities or preferences with one another, we won't even bother.  But if we both have Jesus, then even those things we don't share or agree on become secondary issues.  Yours and my commonality in Christ can't be disrupted by our different preferences in fishing holes, nor our different political persuasions.

This becomes so important to remember, especially in church contexts.  If intellectual Christians who like to ponder the complexities of theology try to find commonality in that regard with the layman, they're doomed to failure.  If older people who prefer organ music try to base their fellowship with younger believers who like music with guitars, drums, and keyboards, on their common bond of liking worship music, it's obviously not going to work out.  Christians come together in community - in fellowship - not because they are similar, because they like the same music, because they think the same way, because they're of the same ethnicity, or anything else.  Christians come together in community because of and through Jesus.

This is why the article I linked to says that as soon as we become focused on "doing community" (having fellowship) with one another, our fellowship is actually killed off.  Having fellowship becomes the end-all.  Instead, we can have fellowship with one another because we have fellowship with Jesus.

Grocery Shopping, Mountain Dew, and Sanctification

I had an interesting experience today that gave me hope for my own process of sanctification and simultaneously showed me how sinful I still am - or in other words, how much work God still has yet to do in me to make me more like Jesus.  It's an odd sensation to be sure, to have awareness of both parts of my nature so instantaneously and at the same time.

I've become the procurer of groceries around our house, and Sunday afternoons is my time to grocery shopping.  This week I went to Rainbow, since they had more of the foods that we like to eat on sale than Cub Foods, which is the food jobber I usually patronize.  One of the deals I took advantage of was the three Pespi product twelve packs for $10.99, which is a decent deal.  I placed the three twelve packs of pop on the bottom of my cart, underneath the rest of my groceries which were in the main basket.  After I collected my items, I proceeded to the checkout line.

When I got in line there was just one person ahead of me, so I proceeded to put my items on the conveyor belt.  When the cart was empty, I was able to see through the basket and saw the pop.  I had temporarily forgotten about it.  Usually you can have the cashier just scan one of the cases of pop and they will multiply it by three on the register so you don't have to lug up all three cases for them to scan each one.  Since I was behind someone else in line, I determined to just wait to bring the pop up off the bottom of the cart until it was my turn to check out.

When my turn came, I immediately moved the cart to the end of the checkout lane and began to bag the groceries the cashier had already scanned, while I waited to pay.  All of the food went through, and as the cashier gave me my receipt she happily told me that I had saved twenty-some dollars during my visit.  I was pleased.

I finished bagging the groceries and brought the cart out to my car and put the bags in the trunk.  As I lifted the bags out of the cart, the cases of pop were once again revealed, and I realized that I had never given the pop to the cashier, and was not charged for it.  I double checked the receipt to make sure.  I had indeed not been charged for the pop.

The notion of loading the pop up into my car and going home flashed through my mind for a fraction of a second.  "No," was the thought that came to mind just as quickly.  "I can't do that.  That's not honest."  I very quickly decided to take the pop back into the store and pay for it.  As I walked one of the twelve packs back into the store I was proud of myself for doing the right thing.  I reveled in my obedience to God.  "Some people would have just taken it without paying," I thought.  "Especially since no one is the wiser.  But I'm not like those people - I'm better than that."  I took the pop into the store, explained the situation, and paid for it.  The cashier I talked to said it happens all the time.

After reflecting on this experience, it's interesting to see the range of thoughts that I had, and what this reveals about my spiritual growth.  In one sense, it shows that I'm still a sinner even though I'm a Christian.  My very first thought was to just load it up as if it never happened.  I'm sure Rainbow wouldn't ever notice that it was gone.  It's a huge company that moves tons of food and dollars every day.  What's 36 cans of pop to them?  But that, of course, is not the point.  I still struggle with sin.  I still am tempted to do that which I know is wrong.

Secondly, this experience shows that I am being changed.  At one point in my life I would have taken the pop without a second thought.  It wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest.  I would have counted myself lucky.  Not anymore.  I know what is right and wrong, even if no one is there to keep me accountable.  Jesus has given me the ability to choose the right.

Thirdly, it exposes the painful slowness of my sanctification (my lifelong process of becoming more and more like Jesus and less and less enslaved to sin).  Even after I had determined to do that which was good and right, I took pride in my decision to do what was right.  I commended myself for being such a good person.  I also somewhat looked down on those who would not do the righteous thing I had determined to do.

It's interesting to see how little, seemingly insignificant situations like this expose the spiritual battle that's going on inside me.  I am justified before God and have the righteousness of Christ imputed to me.  In other words, in God's eyes, I'm righteous.  I am legally declared "not guilty" of sin.  But I do still sin.  This is what Martin Luther called "simul justus et peccator."  It's a Latin phrase which means something like "at the same time justified and sinning."  It's the paradox of the process of sanctification. We are justified before God - given a right legal standing - and yet we still sin.

Certainly my experience today wasn't monumental or earth shaking to any extent, but it was significant to me.  It shows me who I am, what I was, and what is still going on inside me.  There's still a lot of work left to be done in making me more like Jesus, and thank God that he's faithful to do it.

Born a Ramblin' Man

This has been a long summer.  In it, I've done the most traveling during a three month period than I ever have before in my life.  Since June 2, I've traveled more than 4,300 miles.  I'm looking forward to more than two full weeks in town and in my own bed.  Here's the breakdown:

June 2-7: Village Creek Bible Camp, Lansing, Iowa
June 24-27: Village Creek Bible Camp, Lansing, Iowa
July 3-10: NAB Triennial Conference, Orlando, Florida
July 22-29: Vacation, Turtle Lake, Wisconsin
August 19-23: Village Creek Bible Camp, Lansing, Iowa

I'm pretty sure I'm missing at least one other trip in there somewhere, but I can't remember where or what it was.  So much traveling I can't even remember what I did.  All in all, I've spent more than thirty days away from home this summer - one out of every three.  Thankfully most of these trips taken were with my family, so I haven't had to be away from them.  It has made my summer work schedule a bit tight, however!

Here's to hoping things will slow down in the fall.

Don't It Make My Green Eyes Red?

Last week, right after my family returned from our yearly cabin retreat, both of our kids took ill with fevers.  It was a very strange bout of illness for the kids, as their body temperatures fluctuated up and down several times a day for five days.  We'd check their temp and it would be at 98.6.  Check it again, three hours later, and it would be 103.  Three hours later, back to normal.  That's the way it went for several days.  We even brought the kids into the doctor.  Their diagnosis: it's a virus.  Medicate with Tylenol and ride it out.  So that's what we did.

Cut to Wednesday of this week: my left eye began to water at some point in time during the day, I don't quite remember exactly when.  I didn't think too much of it, as sometimes my eyes water for whatever reason.  I'm a long-time contact lens wearer, so I'm used to some minor eye irritation from time to time.  But it got more strange as the day went on, in that the watering didn't stop.  In fact, about every two minutes I had to wipe a tear from my eye.  I still didn't think too much about it.

Thursday morning I woke up, and my eye was still tearing up like crazy.  And there was a new symptom: tenderness and redness.  My eye was turning a little red, and when I touched the top or bottom eyelid, there was just the slightest throb.  I still didn't think too much about it, and went about my busy day of Backyard Bible Club leading and planning, in addition to my regular work (it was a long day that started at about 9 AM and ended about 9 PM).  By the end of the day, it seemed like the tearing had ratcheted up a notch.  It was getting to be quite a pain in the butt.  My vision kept blurring from the tears, and I constantly had to wipe away the tears from my eye.

By the time I woke up on Friday morning (this morning) things had deteriorated significantly.  My eye went from being slightly red to mostly red, and there was more pain, both to the touch and if I scrunched my eye shut.  The tearing was still going strong, and by this time my eyeball had swollen up, and it was as though I could feel it bulging out of my face.  This caused my eyelid to not be able to open up as far as my right eyelid, giving me a bit of a weird look (in more ways than one), as you can see in the picture.

I decided that it was finally time to be seen by a professional, but being that it was the last day of Backyard Bible club, and that it was our closing day with a lot of extra stuff planned, I did not want to have to miss anything in order to go to the doctor.  The local eye clinic had no openings during the day, however, except at 10:40, which was right during the heart of the ByBC meeting.  I turned it down.  I then called four other clinics looking for the latest possible appointment time I could find.  The best I could do was 11:10 at the Bandana Square clinic.  Less than ideal, but it was the best I could do.  I certainly didn't want to live with this thing all weekend.

The eye doctor determined it was an infection.  After I told him that my kids were just sick with a virus last week, he determined that I had the same virus.  When I protested by telling him that my kids only had fevers and not eye problems (Jamie had a red eye for about a day - nothing nearly as bad as what I've got), he told me it didn't matter - the same virus attacked my eye.  He prescribed some drops, which I've used several times this evening.  As I type, my eye is very sticky, still swollen, and still tearing.  I guess the medicine hasn't totally kicked in yet.

This whole experience, along with several others throughout this week of ByBC has got me thinking about what God is either doing, or allowing to happen, in regards to some particular details of ByBC (more on that some other time).  In other words, there's something spiritual going on in all this.  Now to think about what that is.  I'm just glad the condition with my eye is contained and is treatable.  Thanks be to God for that, and that'll do for now.

Preaching

My world was a bit rocked today when I read this article over on Challies' site.  Tim Challies' blog is the only blog that I read on a daily basis, 6 days a week (he takes Sundays off).  My world was rocked because it was almost like Tim climbed into my head and took my thoughts and experiences out of it and posted them on his blog.  That's how accurate I think his article is, or at least how similar it is to my own experience.  It's especially poignant for me considering I just preached a rare sermon yesterday (I probably preach 6-12 times each year).

Preaching is an incredible thing, and is one that most people who don't preach don't think about too much (after all, why would they?).  It's especially interesting when you consider that a lot of people who preach (including myself) aren't necessarily gifted communicators, charismatic personalities, extroverts, or people who are naturally comfortable speaking in front of people.  That being said, Tim makes the following points about preaching:

1. Preaching can be discouraging.  I have found this to be true in several ways, and Tim lists each of them, as though I was giving him counsel on what to put in his post.  He says that preaching is a spiritual battle, and can therefore lead to discouragement.  Satan works to goof up sermons, both in their preparation and delivery.  Realizing that this battle is ongoing, and that sometimes it feels like I'm losing, can be very discouraging, both mid-week and during the actual sermon delivery.

Also, preaching can be very difficult, and so it can be discouraging.  Think about it: have you ever tried to make a 30 minute presentation based on maybe 3 or 4 sentences?  It ain't easy.  I can recall times that I've read a text and thought that preaching through it would be a breeze.  As the week goes on, however, it proves to not be as easy as previously thought.  This is not a fun place to be.

Challies also says that the preacher's week culminates in the sermon.  This is absolutely true in my experience.  After I preach a sermon it literally feels as though a gigantic weight has been taken off my shoulders.  I've been spending the whole week on this thing, and now the time for it has finally come and gone.  Most of my waking moments in weeks that I am to preach are spent thinking about the sermon.  To have that weight lifted is incredible.  I usually feel like throwing a party.

Preaching is also physically draining.  You wouldn't think it is, since it's just basically standing and talking, but it really is.  It's a culmination of all the things listed above, in addition to the standing and talking that make it so exhausting.

2. Preachers are fragile.  This is also true, in my experience.  Imagine spending hours and hours in a week on something that is very important to you.  At the end of the week you share what you've put so much time and effort into with 200 people.  Most of them don't say anything to you about what you've shared, either positive or negative.  It's kind of like a collective "Meh."  Some people tell you that they didn't like it at all, and disagree with you quite heartily.  How would you feel?  But those people that compliment and offer encouragement lift your spirits.  It's a fragile thing.  I like the quote Challies has in his post: "To preach, to really preach, is to die naked a little at a time, and to know that each time you do it, that you must do it again."

The only thing I don't quite go along with from Tim's post is that it is encouraging to preachers when they hear "Amen's" from the congregation.  I don't like to hear an "Amen" when I preach, for a couple of reasons.  Number one, it briefly distracts me from what I am saying; number two, it has the potential to inflate my ego or pride as I preach, as though I am the one actually making an impact and not God; and number three, I sometimes feel like people are too quick to agree with what is being said when perhaps instead of agreeing they should examine themselves to see if there is any conviction in their own heart.  This is not to say that an occasional "Amen" is bad or detrimental, or that I look down on "Amen-ers" in the congregation.  There just may be some better kinds of encouragement to give than an "Amen" from the pews.

3. Success in preaching is difficult to measure.  This is definitely difficult.  The preacher has no way of knowing if anything he's saying or doing is having any kind of effect on his audience.  There is no rubric of determining the success of preaching.  Only relationships over long periods of time, I suppose, could be used as somewhat of a gauge as to the success of preaching.  But as far as this week's sermon?  Who knows.  You may not see any implications from that sermon for ten years!

4. Preaching is a joy.  For all the complaining this post seems to be doing, it needs to be said that preaching is indeed an amazing thing to be a part of.  It's definitely different than anything I've ever done before in my life, or anything I do currently.  And it's certainly not something I saw myself doing at earlier points in my life.  But here I am.  And I am blessed and honored (and a little scared) to be trusted with the responsibility of publicly expositing and declaring the word of God for the edification of his church.  But, as Challies says, "Preaching is a high calling.  Every preacher needs to regularly remind himself of the honor of being set aside to this ministry, of even being paid to study God's word. Is there any greater honor a church can give, then to tell a man that they will pay him to study the Bible, as long as he promises to share what he is learning once a week?  That is an amazing thing."

Florida Trip: Day 4

Today was the free day of the Triennial Conference, and my family chose to go to Disney World.  We left by about 8:30 this morning and arrived to at the park around 9:00.  After paying the hefty parking fee we rode the monorail into Disney World and started riding rides, having fun, and dropping money like we had holes in our pockets.  We took 294 pictures today, all of which we obviously can't post.  But for a brief selection, see here.

Jamie and Beetz get ready to take off on Dumbo.

We started out by riding the Dumbo ride, and then went on to Winnie the Pooh.  After that we moved on to do It's a Small World, and a few others that I already don't remember (I'm totally shot).  I do remember two rides significantly: Peter Pan and Pirates of the Caribbean.  I remember the Pirates one because it was an absolutely horrible decision to have Hannah go on that.  She was really scared.  The ride was really dark and had some skeletons in it, and at one point there was a pirate ship "shooting" canons at our boat.  I think that's what freaked her out the most.

I thought the Peter Pan ride was the best one we went on all day.  You start out in a ship that's on a track, and as you go along, you can see that the track eventually ends.  I was actually kind of nervous as I saw our car moving towards the end of the track, but we weren't slowing down.  As the track ends, the ship sails up into the air and spends the rest of the ride taking you all over the place from a track on the ceiling.  It was rather unexpected, and the rest of the ride was visually stunning.

Han was really excited to see Cinderella's castle.

It was somewhere between 90-95 in Orlando today, so needless to say, everyone was really hot and sweaty as the day wore on.  One thing that Disney World does well is air conditioning: all of the ride waiting areas are air conditioned, which is kind of strange, considering that none of them are enclosed - it's just cool air going right outside (something that would drive my dad nuts if he were ever there: "We're not paying to cool down the outside!").

Considering Han's recently diagnosed illness, and since both kids were up half the night coughing last night, the day got kind of long pretty quick.  There was some whining and crying, but I think the kids enjoyed themselves well enough.  We got back to the hotel room tonight, ordered pizza, and the kids were out like lights.

Now for some of my personal thoughts about Disney in general.  All my life I’ve heard about how great Disney World/Land is, and how life-changing of an experience it is to there.  Well, I never got to have that experience – until today.  Growing up in a family of modest means, we never had the money to go on vacations to places like Disney World.  In fact, the biggest vacation we ever took during my childhood was a road trip in a 1976 Winnebago to Mt. Rushmore in the Black Hills, South Dakota.  And that was fine with me.

Needless to say, I’ve had kind of a bad reaction to all the folks who have told me how amazing Disney World is.  In fact, I’ve even had people express disbelief that I could actually be a functional human being without having been to one of the Disneys at some point in my life.  Guess what: I’m a normal human being.  My family just didn’t have the money to do that stuff.  I turned out alright.  Actually, I think I’m better for it.  I don’t want to come off as some kind of self-righteous anti-Disney snob, but I balk at the idea that an experience at Disney World/Land is an essential part of a kid’s growing up experience.

My wife, on the other hand, has been to Disney World four times and has fallen in love with it.  Contrary to the way that I was not a Disney kid, she was.  She idolized Cinderella and wanted to be a princess; she fell in love with all the characters and wanted to be Minnie Mouse; whatever.  The point is, that she is one of the folks who believes that, although it may not be essential to a kid’s growing up experience, a visit to Disney World can be a great part of a kid’s life.

Our differing perspectives have caused no small amount of marital discord and difficulty planning our activities whilst in the Sunshine State.  Nevertheless, I relented and we visited Disney World on this, our free day, from the NAB Triennial Conference. 

Now that I’ve been to Disney, I can’t say I’m too impressed.  In fact, my impression of Disney World is basically that it is a more elaborate version of Valley Fair.  Admittedly, I’m not really into amusement parks in general, or rides or roller coasters (nor have I ever been), and I was never really into Disney stuff as a kid.  Of course I knew who all the Disney characters were, but I never had the toys, stuffed animals, t-shirts, or anything else.  I didn’t even really care for the movies or TV shows that much.  I was more into riding bikes, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Star Trek, and baseball when I was a kid.  So there is probably a disconnect that exists that limits how excited I can even get about something like Disney World (then again, I’m not much for Valley Fair, or even the State fair, for that matter).

One thing that did stand out to me, though, was how the good folks at Disney have seen fit to strip you down and shake every dollar you own out of your pockets.  There is a fee or charge for everything Disney.  And anything you might actually want, or even need, to buy is exorbitantly priced.  Our lunch today was from a café that served Burger King-quality food, from which we purchased a hamburger, cheeseburger, hotdog, three French fries, and two pops.  Total price: $33.00.  It wasn’t even that great of food.  Given the price of admission, the parking costs, the food costs, and all the merchandise costs, they must be raking in an amazing amount of money there every day. 

Overall, though, it was a fun trip, and I think the kids enjoyed it (illness and lack of sleep may have hindered their ability to have as good a time as they might have were they in good health and spirits).  At least now I know what all the hype is about, and what I supposedly missed out on as a kid.  But I’d still like to go back to the Black Hills some day!