Rotten tomatoes are fun...

…if you're the one throwing them!

The following is a non-political announcement.  "I have compassion for Newt.  And Barack.  And Mitt."

You see, I have thought more than once about what it would be like to make speeches every day, knowing that someone out there is ready to criticize everything you say.  They will especially love to hurl rotten tomatoes if you open your mouth and make a huge gaff...

…just like I did last Sunday.  10:45 service.  Last sermon of the weekend.  Spontaneous remark.  I. BLEW. IT!!!

I was talking about Demas, the New Testament deserter.  (Look him up.)  For some strange reason, I decided to bring in a bit of American history and talk about another famous deserter from the Revolutionary War.  I snatched his name from my memory and blurted it out: "Nathan Hale!"  The moment the words left my lips, I thought I saw one friend do a double-take.  I quickly did a memory rewind and knew it sounded wrong.  But I was fully in the next paragraph and chose not to pause for a quick audience reaction.  (Our church is filled with people who love it when I let them point out my mistakes.)

I hope you are a compassionate reader.  To all the descendants of the indelible Mr. Hale (and all you citizens of Connecticut, where he is the official State Hero), I am humbled by his heroic quote before being hanged by the British: "I only regret that I have but one life to give to my country." To the rest of you, I say, "Please don't pull a Benedict Arnold on me…

…My skin is allergic to tomatoes!"

Rice and Beans

Rice pudding. Fried rice. Rice balls. Spanish rice. Rice milk. Rice meal.

Cathy awoke Monday with her mind on ways she can cook rice next week. Most likely she is turning her creativity to beans next. No doubt people the world over find great ways to cook those two staples. Why? Because it's all they have! I read recently that the world's poorest 1.1 billion people live on less than $1.00 a day. 700,000,000 of them live in Asia and spend up to 40% of their daily income on rice, the majority of their caloric intake. You and I would spend a dollar on a candy bar without even blinking.

It's time we shocked ourselves into reality. For that reason, Stone Ridge Church is going on a 3-day diet the Monday-Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Rice and beans! We will distribute your food to you at worship services this weekend. The culmination of this restricted diet will be what we are calling our 1:17 Offering. 1:17? What's that? I'm glad you asked!

Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows. Isaiah 1:17 (NLT)

You and I may want to do good, but it often takes more than wanting; it takes learning. Subsisting on rice and beans can help us learn. Then we can do more. We can help the oppressed. We can genuinely do something to care for orphans and widows. We can give. We can help those locally, regionally and internationally who are broken and hungry. 1:17! We will start receiving that offering on Thanksgiving weekend. Then we will give it ALL away to where the needs are.

You can choose to distance yourself from this reality or you can embrace it and ask God to speak to you. I hope to see you this weekend at Stone Ridge! It just might be your greatest adventure yet!

It's So Uncomfortable!

Two recent incidents are on my mind today. Both have served to impress an uncomfortable truth into my heart. The truth: we have developed the idea that part of our American heritage is the elimination of anything uncomfortable. If it's too hot, turn on the air conditioning; if it's too cold, turn up the heater. We live in a climate-controlled, acoustically stimulating, smell-good environment.

Let me tell you first about the incidents, then I'll get to the lesson I think God is trying to teach me. The first occurred almost two weeks ago. It was a typical early September Thursday. I was about to leave our office to work on a project in the quietness and high-speed internet of my home. Suddenly, the lights flickered and the power went out. The office was dark and quiet without the hum of the A/C in the background. Early September is HOT in Yuma and it was the hottest time of the day. We waited, expecting it to kick back on in a few minutes. We waited some more. I went home still waiting. Updates sent to my smartphone told me that this major outage started very near my house but had taken in everything all the way to San Diego and up the coast into Orange County. It might not be restored until the next day!

At home, using battery-powered lights, I watched a battery-powered thermometer record the gradual rise of the temperature in my living room. Fortunately, my house was cool when the power went off and I am blessed to live in a place that is very well insulated. I read, drank water and pondered the uncomfortable air as minutes turned to hours. I began to think about how tiny this problem was in the big scheme of things. My friends in the Dominican Republic suffer through blackouts like these almost every day. I have Haitian friends who almost never have tasted many of the comforts I enjoy every day without gratitude.

I admit that I am normally prone to nervous fretting during times like that evening, but for some reason I was able to give this one to God. It was near bedtime and I said to Cathy, "I'm tired; I think I will just go to bed and get back up when the power comes back on. Then I can reset everything." Right after that, a light flickered and our comfortable world was back.

The second incident was this past weekend. Cathy was away on a women's retreat with ladies from church. She called Saturday morning to give me an update. "How are you?" I asked.

"It's funny," she replied, "Everyone is asking me that this morning." Then she explained why. The dormitory she and some friends were assigned was infested with bedbugs. Cathy got the worst of them, ended up with hives from neck to feet and had a bad reaction to the antihistamine she took.

As we talked, we both pondered our insulation from so many nuisances that the rest of the world takes for granted. We admitted how easy it was to develop the attitude that we live above ever being uncomfortable. We also thanked God that it happened to her and not someone else. My wife is pretty mature in her walk with Christ. She endured this and saw it as what it was: interference that didn't have to tarnish the joy of God working the hearts of many women. By the way, they changed rooms, their clothing and bedding were washed by some wonderful ladies in the group, and they all returned home safely with anti-bedbug measures in place.

What about the lesson I'm learning? You have probably guessed it. If not, here it is: I have no right to live in comfort all the time! Paul, the Apostle who endured beatings, imprisonments and shipwrecks, put it thus way: Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. Philippians 4:11 (NASB)

Honestly, I haven't learned this lesson yet and I want to learn it. I don't look forward to the methods God may use to teach me, but I sure want to learn it!

How about you?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tears and Hope

I awoke to a full schedule in my calendar.  The night before, I had arrived in Phoenix hoping to get some rest.  I was preparing for an important meeting and a critical hospital visit.  I felt fortunate that our designated hotel happened to be right next door to St. Joseph's Hospital and Barrows Neurological Center.  Two days earlier a young man from our church had suffered a very serious accident on a mountain bike and I wanted to pray with him as soon as he was out of surgery.

Hoping to clear my brain and jumpstart my cardiovascular system, I stepped out of the hotel and down the street into the fashionable Encanto district for a brisk walk.  Rush hour was still almost two hours away.  Enjoying the cool September morning, the sound of birds and the view of the old, restored houses I strode along block after block.

Feeling refreshed, I stepped back through the front doors into the hotel lobby, surprised at the number of people gathered around the televisions near the breakfast area.  I looked over to see what they were staring at and saw the smoke pluming out of one of the World Trade Center towers.  "It would be horrible to be in there right now," I thought, not knowing what was happening.  I watched, heard the commentators on the TVs and the exclamations of concern around me.  By now, I needed to get back to my room to prepare for my morning meeting.  I went upstairs and turned on the television to hear the latest as I cleaned up.

I received a call from one of our daughters on my cell phone.  Now, things were beginning to rush out of control.  A plane was filmed flying into the second tower and we knew we were under attack.  How far did it extend?  Was every large city in danger?  Then, one at a time, the towers collapsed.

I made the hospital visit and attended the meeting that day, little understanding that 9/11/01 was the day that changed everything for this nation.  I was due to fly to Chicago the next morning; obviously the trip was cancelled.  Instead, I drove back to Yuma that afternoon, experiencing both tears and hope.

The hope came from a radio report where I heard members of congress; women and men, black and white and hispanic, often foes across the congressional aisle.  They shared a statement and together sang, "God Bless America."  I am crying as I remember it.  Another source of hope came from local reports in Phoenix, telling of long lines at blood banks with people wanting to do anything -- including giving their own lifeblood -- to help.

The tears were as I walked into the door of our home and took Cathy in my arms.  We were under attack, but that day...that day we and our family were safe.

Our hearts go out to every family touched by 9/11.  To the many Marines, Navy, Army, Air Force as well as the many law enforcement, firefighters and DHS personnel who are part of us, thank you!  We can't say it enough.

Why I Run Alone...And With Others

I was challenged a few years back when a friend wanted to start running with me. Now, don't get me wrong. I try to offer a friendly greeting as I trot along the roadsides in the early mornings. I smile and say "Hi" even on days like today when it's still dark outside. Friendly greetings are one thing, but running with a buddy on most days? Challenging!

You see, I listen to books while I run. I love the engagement of a great story as I put one foot in front of the other. It breaks the monotony and keeps my mind focused on something besides the pain. The offer from my friend was going to keep me from my books. I said "yes" anyway. And it changed everything.

My buddy was ten years my junior. He was completing a full 30 years as a Marine (Semper Fi!). When we started, he hadn't been running as much as in his younger years, but he still had to qualify in his annual Physical Fitness Test. He wasn't out of shape!

My years of distance running gave me a slight edge at the beginning, but it wasn't long before he challenged more than my book addiction. My pace began to get faster. I was less bothered by the physical discomfort. "Let's run the Half Marathon at Camp Pendleton," he exclaimed one day. A few months later we took off on the 13.1 mile course over Heartbreak Ridge. It changed my entire running perspective.

My buddy's job has taken him out of state during the week the past couple of years and we haven't been running together. I smile, say "Hi" and keep listening to books. But I discovered something: it's harder to stay focused and harder to push myself when I train alone. I lose something by not having a partner who is working on similar goals. It's easier to cut myself too much slack. It's tempting to think I'm doing better than I really am.

I see a parallel between my running experience and participating in another type of race. That's the race called life. Paul, the Apostle, used running symbolism to describe the life of a Christ-follower. "Everyone in a race runs to win," he said. Another time he mentioned, "I'm sprinting toward the finish line of the high calling of Christ Jesus."

In the life-race, I have discovered a critical truth: those who run alone never reach their full potential. I have recently stated it this way: "There is no significant, sustainable spiritual growth outside the context of healthy relationships." Without friends in training with us, we give up, we give in, and we easily quit altogether. With friends, we receive the encouragement, the challenge and the help we need to win the race.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Day Everything Changed

When you stop and think about it, very few days in life are so significant that one can say, "The entire trajectory of my life just changed."  In my almost six decades, I can count them on my fingers.  Easily.  For instance, there was that day I held the hand of that cute little blond girl from college -- to (ahem) keep her from slipping on the rocks as we waded in the Verde River.  That day changed everything!

One of those course-changing days snuck up on me with the prowess of a Navy Seal silently stalking a target.  I was with three other staff members, taking a break to receive some leadership training from prolific author/teacher John Maxwell.  John was still pastoring in San Diego at the time and hadn't launched into his more recent full-time work as leadership consultant extraordinaire.  I remember driving over to the training workshop thinking, "I really need a break; I wonder if this is how burn-out feels."  I wasn't prepared for the full force of John's strong exhortation to take full responsibility for the development of my own leadership.

I'll never forget how John introduced us to a simple chart that we could use to assess our leadership ability.  "If, on a scale of 1 to 10," he said, "only a hand full of '10s' exist in the world and a "1" can't get anyone to follow, where do you see yourself?"  I recall listening to his explanation, then placing myself somewhere in the middle -- about a '5'.  John went on to explain, "If you are a '4' or '5', you may wonder why you can't get strong leaders in your church.  But, the reality is that a '7' (a very good leader) won't follow a '5'.  They intuitively look for leaders who can lead them; those whose leadership ability is equal to or greater than their own.  If you want '7s' in your church, you will need to grow to become a '7' or '8'."

The rest of his conference kept driving home a simple point: each of us must take responsibility for our own level of leadership ability.  (The same could be true for almost any ability.)  While some people may be more gifted or have a higher IQ than others, we must each decide for ourselves whether we will grow or become stale.  Growing as a leader requires a commitment to keep reading, keep listening and keep spending time with leaders who are stronger than us.

I arrived at that conference weary and wondering if I could take a Sabbatical.  I left there with boxes of books and training material I paid for out of my own pocket.  I went home and started reading and listening, a discipline I have practiced for the past fifteen years.  And I'm not done!

A reason I love the Global Leadership Summit is because it exposes me to world-class leaders; practitioners who are making a difference.  They are thinking the thoughts that help me grow.  They are facing the problems that help prepare me to face some of mine.  For two days I will be challenged, stretched and encouraged to keep moving forward.  I can't think of a place I would rather spend August 11-12.

Visit willowcreek.com/summit to find a location near you.  The investment is one that will reap benefits for a long time to come.

Big Smile and a Ponytail

With feelings of anticipation we stepped out of the rental car.  Three of us: a lady from our Student Ministry who also had teenage children, my wife Cathy, and me.  We had flown into Portland the night before and departed first thing in the morning across the mountains into Central Oregon.

Our arranged meeting was over lunch, hoping for some insight into the couple with whom we would speak.  I'll never forget that first impression: large eyes, a big smile...and a ponytail.  And that was the husband.  His name...Tom Burks.  It was early summer of 1996.

Tom and Stacy were meeting with us to discuss their future and ours.  We needed a Youth Pastor; they were considering a move from those beautiful mountain vistas to the desert.  Tom and grown up in that town and and gone "home" to lead a Youth for Christ ministry in local schools.  Stacy was the energetic girl with a quick wit (also from the Pacific Northwest) whom he had met in college.  We were all praying, seeking God's direction.

One day earlier, we had met a man old enough to be Tom's dad.  That man was seasoned, having spent his adult life in Youth Ministry.  He had formal training.  He had a strong track record.  He would be hard to beat, if our only concern was a side-by-side resume' comparison.  As our conversation progressed with Tom and Stacy, my heart said "Tom" and my head said "the other guy."

After the lunch meeting, the three of us climbed into the car and started the journey back to Portland.  We would pass near Mt. Hood on this route, but it was shrouded by low-hanging clouds.  Rain began to fall.  The cold, moist air was a planet distant from Yuma at that time of year.  As we drove, we began a casual conversation about our meeting with the Burks'.  Not wanting to dominate, I asked our traveling companion, Janice, what she thought.  Then I asked Cathy.  I was amazed to discover that we all had identical impressions.  The man we had met the day before had training and experience, but he didn't have something we saw in Tom...vibrant energy.  It was as if the joy had been squeezed out of the other guy and Tom was radiating it.  "You can learn skills," I said, "but you can't learn passion."  Faster than I thought possible, we were unanimous.  We came home and announced our recommendation to the leaders at Stone Ridge.

We didn't know then what we would only learn after Tom had been with us a few years...his ministry skill set was adequate in his work with teens, but it wasn't his best strength.  We discovered his ability as a Worship Pastor (his role since 1999) only after a painful ministry "train wreck" when many left our church.  For several months Tom led pretty much alone, standing before us with an acoustic guitar and helping us learn to sing our hearts out in worship.  It is an understatement to say that he has grown.  Today, he works with at least 4 or 5 worship teams, coaching them and helping them grow.  He oversees a large tech ministry, responsible for our multiple services.  In addition, he is an engaging preacher, who often helps us see God in a more intimate way.

But there is one skill many of you don't know about the man who long ago cut off his ponytail (smile still intact!).  Tom is, I think, the most effective strategist on our staff.  He is the one who often sees most clearly as we pray and think our way into the future.  He is invaluable to me...and to us all!

For those reasons and so many more, take a moment this month and thank Tom and Stacy for 15 years of faithful service.  Our church family is blessing them with a bonus (something we do on five-year anniversaries), but your thoughts of thanksgiving will mean more than you can imagine.