These days, I often write out my prayers. They are highly personal, just between me and God. Today, though, here is part of what I wrote...
Father, this is my mom’s 84th birthday. I can’t find enough or adequate words to thank You for her being my mother. She is indeed rare. She gave herself to care for her family. She couldn’t imagine anything other than raising her kids and praying for them to know and love You. She lost Cabby* and still found hope. She took in foster kids and loved them, knowing that she would influence them only temporarily. She accepted Refugio** like a son, though she couldn’t speak his language. In short, she has continually poured out her life to love others. Thank You for her example.
* Cabby (Carol Beth) was my sister who was 4 1/2 years younger than me. She died at age 20 because of a heart infection.
** Refugio first came to work for my dad when he was age seventeen. He was the sole support of a younger brother and sister back in Mexico. He lived on my parents' property, ate his meals with our family (adding Jalapenos to almost everything!) and was like a brother to us.
At 84, mom still goes out of her way to care for people who need help. She listens, laughs, cries, prays and gives to meet others' needs.
Happy Birthday, Mom!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Defend or Decry?
Have you noticed how we tend to defend the indiscretions of those with whom we agree? And we decry the same indiscretions in people whose views are different than ours.
Two recent events, both involving people whose opinions are similar to mine, have given me a ray of hope. In each case, the leader took himself out of the picture because of his own weakness.
The first incident involved John Piper. Piper, a popular Christian author and pastor is currently on an eight-month Sabbatical from virtually all writing and ministry. Announcing his decision, he wrote, "I see several species of pride in my soul that, while they may not rise to the level of disqualifying me for ministry, grieve me, and have taken a toll on my relationship with [my wife] Noël and others who are dear to me." In other words, he wisely chose to pull away from the limelight and the rat race before more serious damage was done.
The second situation was unveiled just today. Indiana Republican Representative Mark Souder announced that he is resigning from Congress, effective Friday. He said that he has "sinned against God, my wife and my family by having a mutual relationship with a part-time member of my staff." Souder further explained his decision by stating, "As I leave public office, my plans are focused upon repairing my marriage, earning back the trust of my family and my community, and renewing my walk with my Lord."
We live in an era in which it is common for people to step over such weaknesses and fight on for the greater good. What's interesting is how we tend to evaluate indiscretions as large or small based on our perception of what the "greater good" actually is. If a certain politician was the swing vote in a cause we are passionate about, would we be tempted to overlook a moral failure? To put it differently, have we turned a blind eye to the past failures of leaders because we liked their public decisions?
Both Piper and Souder seem to be aware of that often forgotten characteristic of God: "Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7) Also, God is "no respecter of persons." (Acts 10:34) In other words, God wasn't looking on from heaven and thinking, "This guy is normally on my side. I ought to overlook this failure so he can continue to influence people in the direction I want to go."
The Bible says that it is time for "judgment to begin with the household of God." (1 Peter 4:17) The promise of God's Word is that God will hear from heaven and heal the land of His who people humble themselves and pray, turning from their wicked ways.(2 Chronicles 7:14) For that reason I find the actions of these two men refreshing.
If you pray, please pray for them and their families. From their individual statements, Piper has probably inflicted far less damage on those he loves than is the case with Souder. As one who has far too often sat across the counseling table and watched the tears stream down the face of a spouse whose husband or wife has cheated, I am painfully aware of the grief they must endure before the relationship is truly healed.
Two recent events, both involving people whose opinions are similar to mine, have given me a ray of hope. In each case, the leader took himself out of the picture because of his own weakness.
The first incident involved John Piper. Piper, a popular Christian author and pastor is currently on an eight-month Sabbatical from virtually all writing and ministry. Announcing his decision, he wrote, "I see several species of pride in my soul that, while they may not rise to the level of disqualifying me for ministry, grieve me, and have taken a toll on my relationship with [my wife] Noël and others who are dear to me." In other words, he wisely chose to pull away from the limelight and the rat race before more serious damage was done.
The second situation was unveiled just today. Indiana Republican Representative Mark Souder announced that he is resigning from Congress, effective Friday. He said that he has "sinned against God, my wife and my family by having a mutual relationship with a part-time member of my staff." Souder further explained his decision by stating, "As I leave public office, my plans are focused upon repairing my marriage, earning back the trust of my family and my community, and renewing my walk with my Lord."
We live in an era in which it is common for people to step over such weaknesses and fight on for the greater good. What's interesting is how we tend to evaluate indiscretions as large or small based on our perception of what the "greater good" actually is. If a certain politician was the swing vote in a cause we are passionate about, would we be tempted to overlook a moral failure? To put it differently, have we turned a blind eye to the past failures of leaders because we liked their public decisions?
Both Piper and Souder seem to be aware of that often forgotten characteristic of God: "Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7) Also, God is "no respecter of persons." (Acts 10:34) In other words, God wasn't looking on from heaven and thinking, "This guy is normally on my side. I ought to overlook this failure so he can continue to influence people in the direction I want to go."
The Bible says that it is time for "judgment to begin with the household of God." (1 Peter 4:17) The promise of God's Word is that God will hear from heaven and heal the land of His who people humble themselves and pray, turning from their wicked ways.(2 Chronicles 7:14) For that reason I find the actions of these two men refreshing.
If you pray, please pray for them and their families. From their individual statements, Piper has probably inflicted far less damage on those he loves than is the case with Souder. As one who has far too often sat across the counseling table and watched the tears stream down the face of a spouse whose husband or wife has cheated, I am painfully aware of the grief they must endure before the relationship is truly healed.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Breakfast For The Select
Inhale. Smell the hot aroma of eggs, melted cheese, green chili and bacon. It has to be some of the world's best breakfast casserole. Accompany it with bagels and chase it with a mixture of yogurt, berries and granola. Wash it all down with juice and coffee. Mmmmmmm.
No, this hasn't morphed into a cooking blog. I barely know how to boil water. Instead, it's this morning's breakfast. But you have to be invited.
You see, Cathy got the idea over 25 years ago that we should do something for graduates at this time of year. Initially, we bought little gifts, cooked food and invited graduates and their families over to our house for "Graduation Breakfast." 24 years ago we relocated to Yuma and Cathy kept up the tradition.
Graduation Breakfast brings us great joy. We watch transitions in the lives of young people and their families. We have often seen them graduate from Middle School/Junior High then (it seems) blink twice and they are back as they conclude High School. Some of them have been here when they graduate from college, also. The awkwardness of kids entering adolescence matures into the focus of young adults ready to make their mark on life.
The biggest downside over the past few years is also one of the greatest blessings. Tammy, who leads our Student Ministries, is doing such a great job that we had to relocate to the church campus to accommodate the large number of grads.
We should still have enough breakfast casserole, though.
No, this hasn't morphed into a cooking blog. I barely know how to boil water. Instead, it's this morning's breakfast. But you have to be invited.
You see, Cathy got the idea over 25 years ago that we should do something for graduates at this time of year. Initially, we bought little gifts, cooked food and invited graduates and their families over to our house for "Graduation Breakfast." 24 years ago we relocated to Yuma and Cathy kept up the tradition.
Graduation Breakfast brings us great joy. We watch transitions in the lives of young people and their families. We have often seen them graduate from Middle School/Junior High then (it seems) blink twice and they are back as they conclude High School. Some of them have been here when they graduate from college, also. The awkwardness of kids entering adolescence matures into the focus of young adults ready to make their mark on life.
The biggest downside over the past few years is also one of the greatest blessings. Tammy, who leads our Student Ministries, is doing such a great job that we had to relocate to the church campus to accommodate the large number of grads.
We should still have enough breakfast casserole, though.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
"When I needed him, he was there."
I'm sure that I will write more later, but at midday Tuesday we arrived back from 2 1/2 days, about 1250 miles and two memorial services for my cousin Gary.
On Sunday afternoon, Gary's earthly body was buried in a small family cemetery at least twenty miles from nowhere and very close to home. Nestled among the graves of his ancestors, they are surrounded by a beautiful while fence that Gary himself erected not long ago with the help of his daughter Brette.
He was buried in a simple pine casket crafted by one of his dear friends and covered with the brands of family and other close friends. With his casket sitting on the ground near the grave, well over 100 people gathered in close for the service as a gentle breeze blew through the scrub cedar that covers that mountain.
I shared that God is the God of all comfort, as the Apostle Paul wrote to the church in Corinth. I then invited those whose brands adorned the casket to, if they would like, offer some of their own experiences with Gary. What happened next is unique among the many funerals I have performed. One man after another stood forward and told stories, mostly of how Gary had helped them when they needed him. Here's a sampling...
"When my son died, Gary came (a 150-mile drive) and stayed three days. He didn't try to say much; he was just there for us."
"When my little boy was killed, I wanted to build a concrete slab as a surface for kids to play on (this man lives in a rural area). Gary showed up and helped me until we got it done."
"When our family needed help at our ranch, Gary just came."
One after another, men (and at least one or two ladies) talked about the way he had invested in their lives with kindness, care and hard work. A few told funny stories. Mostly, people talked about how much it meant to them to have known him. And how much they will miss him.
Gary wasn't much of a "churchy-type" guy. As I stood there Sunday afternoon, though, a thought hit me...
For many years I have been preaching sermons. All the while he was living one.
On Sunday afternoon, Gary's earthly body was buried in a small family cemetery at least twenty miles from nowhere and very close to home. Nestled among the graves of his ancestors, they are surrounded by a beautiful while fence that Gary himself erected not long ago with the help of his daughter Brette.
He was buried in a simple pine casket crafted by one of his dear friends and covered with the brands of family and other close friends. With his casket sitting on the ground near the grave, well over 100 people gathered in close for the service as a gentle breeze blew through the scrub cedar that covers that mountain.
I shared that God is the God of all comfort, as the Apostle Paul wrote to the church in Corinth. I then invited those whose brands adorned the casket to, if they would like, offer some of their own experiences with Gary. What happened next is unique among the many funerals I have performed. One man after another stood forward and told stories, mostly of how Gary had helped them when they needed him. Here's a sampling...
"When my son died, Gary came (a 150-mile drive) and stayed three days. He didn't try to say much; he was just there for us."
"When my little boy was killed, I wanted to build a concrete slab as a surface for kids to play on (this man lives in a rural area). Gary showed up and helped me until we got it done."
"When our family needed help at our ranch, Gary just came."
One after another, men (and at least one or two ladies) talked about the way he had invested in their lives with kindness, care and hard work. A few told funny stories. Mostly, people talked about how much it meant to them to have known him. And how much they will miss him.
Gary wasn't much of a "churchy-type" guy. As I stood there Sunday afternoon, though, a thought hit me...
For many years I have been preaching sermons. All the while he was living one.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
M-O-M: Three Letters Aren't Enough
The 8-year-old boy stood with his family along a crowded pew. The packed church was singing a moving tune, inviting people to give their lives to Christ and receive forgiveness for their sins. He gripped his hymnbook harder as his heart kept leaping into his throat. He knew what he needed to do. Wanted to do. But he was afraid. He stood firm.
The guest preacher stopped the song and said a few words, adding to the plea, then asked the church to sing again. The boy looked and noticed one of his friends had made his way to the front to share his commitment with the pastor. Behind that friend was a second friend. Their presence stoked the boy's courage. He closed the hymnbook, slipped out from his family and made his way up the aisle.
"Why have you come?" asked the pastor. "I want to dedicate my life to the Lord," the boy said, tears streaming down his cheeks.
That event happened on Mother's Day. The boy's mom told him that it was the best Mother's Day gift he could give her. Years later, the boy still remembers snippets of that day in vivid detail. It's on his mind today because it took place on May 8, 1960. Fifty years ago yesterday.
I will see my mom today. At a graveside. She will weep with empathy as she watches her nephew's body lowered into the ground. Her empathy comes from knowing. She knows what it is to lose a child. She knows the shock that gives way to searing pain. She knows the joy of being surrounded by comforting loved ones followed by the raw loneliness that eats away for months -- even years -- afterward.
She also knows resilience. She knows what it's like to rebuild from the sorrow. She has found ways to carve hope into the granite face of grief. She knows how to give herself away in the midst of the pain, bringing joy to others and thus back to herself.
A younger generation may not remember the song penned by Howard Johnson 95 years ago: "M is for the million things she gave me..." "Put them all together they spell MOTHER," he concluded. But I have long called her "Mom." And you can't spell that in three letters.
On this Mother's Day, let me say that I know a growing chorus of women who could vie for the title of "World's Best." In addition to my mom is Cathy, the mother of our children. And her mom. And my daughters. And my sister and sister-in-law. And Cathy's sisters. And...
Happy Mother's Day to you all!
The guest preacher stopped the song and said a few words, adding to the plea, then asked the church to sing again. The boy looked and noticed one of his friends had made his way to the front to share his commitment with the pastor. Behind that friend was a second friend. Their presence stoked the boy's courage. He closed the hymnbook, slipped out from his family and made his way up the aisle.
"Why have you come?" asked the pastor. "I want to dedicate my life to the Lord," the boy said, tears streaming down his cheeks.
That event happened on Mother's Day. The boy's mom told him that it was the best Mother's Day gift he could give her. Years later, the boy still remembers snippets of that day in vivid detail. It's on his mind today because it took place on May 8, 1960. Fifty years ago yesterday.
I will see my mom today. At a graveside. She will weep with empathy as she watches her nephew's body lowered into the ground. Her empathy comes from knowing. She knows what it is to lose a child. She knows the shock that gives way to searing pain. She knows the joy of being surrounded by comforting loved ones followed by the raw loneliness that eats away for months -- even years -- afterward.
She also knows resilience. She knows what it's like to rebuild from the sorrow. She has found ways to carve hope into the granite face of grief. She knows how to give herself away in the midst of the pain, bringing joy to others and thus back to herself.
A younger generation may not remember the song penned by Howard Johnson 95 years ago: "M is for the million things she gave me..." "Put them all together they spell MOTHER," he concluded. But I have long called her "Mom." And you can't spell that in three letters.
On this Mother's Day, let me say that I know a growing chorus of women who could vie for the title of "World's Best." In addition to my mom is Cathy, the mother of our children. And her mom. And my daughters. And my sister and sister-in-law. And Cathy's sisters. And...
Happy Mother's Day to you all!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Rough Hands, Big Heart
1958. Steve McQueen shot to stardom with a TV Western about a bounty hunter named Josh Randall in Wanted: Dead or Alive. The tool of his trade was a sawed-off rifle which he carried in a holster on his side. That Christmas, two little 7-year-old boys -- cousins -- could dream of nothing greater than getting one of those rifles.
When Christmas morning arrived, they each got their prize. Made by different toy manufacturers (copyright infringement on toys wasn't as big a deal back then), they spent Christmas day hunting bad guys.
Christmases were usually spent with extended family in those days. And Thanksgivings. And Easters. It's the way the cousins grew up. Even though they -- my cousin Gary and me -- gradually developed different interests, they would go on to complete Elementary School together. Then Jr. High. Then High School.
One of the first pictures taken of us was with his older sister Charlotte and older brother Larry. It was snapped at our grandparents house in the rugged mountains along the Continental Divide in New Mexico. I am on the left, then Gary, Larry and Charlotte. I think Gary and I were about two when it was snapped.
Gary was different from most of us as kids. By the time we were entering adolescence, he started spending more and more of his spare time working. Why? Because he wanted to! When school was out during the summer, he was driving tractor, hauling hay bales and doing other manual labor. When we got to High School, he was a good football player. We lived in the days before teams would spend weeks in the weight rooms to get ready for the season. He had his own "weight room", throwing around bales of alfalfa.
As a young adult, Gary (naturally) got into the farming business. It was a time when farming in his region of the country required more than a little luck and skill to make a living. Gary kept adding to his business, always looking for other ways to make ends meet.
As he kept working, he developed another skill, welding construction. He built steel post fences -- the pretty white ones you often see on horse ranches. He kept finding similar work and kept busy, even in a struggling economy.
I left my hometown when I went off to college. Gary stayed, married (the first wedding I performed as a young minister) and raised a family. He spent great lengths of time with his kids, teaching them skills and the same value for hard work he carried. In addition, he did what he could to make that struggling old town a better place to live.
Gary was a man of few words. He wasn't stuck up. He just thought carefully before he said things. Every time I saw him in recent years, I was moved by the kind of man he had become. Someone you would be proud to call a friend.
My friend, my cousin -- Gary -- turned 59 last Saturday. Just a month ago we found that he had an extremely rare and fatal disease that attacks the brain. He passed away on Wednesday.
His wife, Vannetta; his children, Galen, Dustin, and Brette; his parents, my Aunt Betty and Uncle Glen; his siblings, Charlotte, Larry, Shanna and Cheryl are saying goodbye this weekend. I know they would appreciate your prayers.
When Christmas morning arrived, they each got their prize. Made by different toy manufacturers (copyright infringement on toys wasn't as big a deal back then), they spent Christmas day hunting bad guys.
Christmases were usually spent with extended family in those days. And Thanksgivings. And Easters. It's the way the cousins grew up. Even though they -- my cousin Gary and me -- gradually developed different interests, they would go on to complete Elementary School together. Then Jr. High. Then High School.
One of the first pictures taken of us was with his older sister Charlotte and older brother Larry. It was snapped at our grandparents house in the rugged mountains along the Continental Divide in New Mexico. I am on the left, then Gary, Larry and Charlotte. I think Gary and I were about two when it was snapped.
Gary was different from most of us as kids. By the time we were entering adolescence, he started spending more and more of his spare time working. Why? Because he wanted to! When school was out during the summer, he was driving tractor, hauling hay bales and doing other manual labor. When we got to High School, he was a good football player. We lived in the days before teams would spend weeks in the weight rooms to get ready for the season. He had his own "weight room", throwing around bales of alfalfa.As a young adult, Gary (naturally) got into the farming business. It was a time when farming in his region of the country required more than a little luck and skill to make a living. Gary kept adding to his business, always looking for other ways to make ends meet.
As he kept working, he developed another skill, welding construction. He built steel post fences -- the pretty white ones you often see on horse ranches. He kept finding similar work and kept busy, even in a struggling economy.
I left my hometown when I went off to college. Gary stayed, married (the first wedding I performed as a young minister) and raised a family. He spent great lengths of time with his kids, teaching them skills and the same value for hard work he carried. In addition, he did what he could to make that struggling old town a better place to live.
Gary was a man of few words. He wasn't stuck up. He just thought carefully before he said things. Every time I saw him in recent years, I was moved by the kind of man he had become. Someone you would be proud to call a friend.
My friend, my cousin -- Gary -- turned 59 last Saturday. Just a month ago we found that he had an extremely rare and fatal disease that attacks the brain. He passed away on Wednesday.
His wife, Vannetta; his children, Galen, Dustin, and Brette; his parents, my Aunt Betty and Uncle Glen; his siblings, Charlotte, Larry, Shanna and Cheryl are saying goodbye this weekend. I know they would appreciate your prayers.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Storms, Perfect and Otherwise
My old friend Michael recently sent me an email about my absence on this blog: "Haven"t heard from you for awhile and hope that everything is going well. I want to think that you are OK, but that it's pretty difficult to write something every day, but it's been since February that you have written."
I'm grateful for the various, "Are you okay? Are you going to write again?" queries. I didn't step away from writing with the thought that I would be absent this long. I have continued to daily write and edit my other blog, Climbing Companions, but I have kept my distance from Dwell & Cultivate for several reasons:
1. I was at the bottom of my creative writing well. I felt as if I was on a writing Merry-go-round and we had circled a few too many times.
2. I have been using my time to read instead of write. I am leading a group of church leaders in a study of leadership (How many times can you count derivatives of "lead" in that sentence?). I have been gobbling up books, mostly to help me in my own leadership skills.
3. Our church is in a transition. In some ways, it is always in a transition, but this year has included a new Saturday night worship service as well as significant time working with staff to prepare us all to care for more people.
4. Storms of life have been battering my boat. Early in the year, it was three nephews in jail in Haiti. While their mission leader remains incarcerated down there, the charges against our family members have been dropped.
Now, another gale-force wind has been blowing. I received word early in April that Gary, a first cousin with whom I grew up, was experiencing harsh neurological symptoms and had to be hospitalized. Gary passed away on Wednesday afternoon. We are the same age, went all through school together and have maintained our family bond through the years.
More tomorrow.
I'm grateful for the various, "Are you okay? Are you going to write again?" queries. I didn't step away from writing with the thought that I would be absent this long. I have continued to daily write and edit my other blog, Climbing Companions, but I have kept my distance from Dwell & Cultivate for several reasons:
1. I was at the bottom of my creative writing well. I felt as if I was on a writing Merry-go-round and we had circled a few too many times.
2. I have been using my time to read instead of write. I am leading a group of church leaders in a study of leadership (How many times can you count derivatives of "lead" in that sentence?). I have been gobbling up books, mostly to help me in my own leadership skills.
3. Our church is in a transition. In some ways, it is always in a transition, but this year has included a new Saturday night worship service as well as significant time working with staff to prepare us all to care for more people.
4. Storms of life have been battering my boat. Early in the year, it was three nephews in jail in Haiti. While their mission leader remains incarcerated down there, the charges against our family members have been dropped.
Now, another gale-force wind has been blowing. I received word early in April that Gary, a first cousin with whom I grew up, was experiencing harsh neurological symptoms and had to be hospitalized. Gary passed away on Wednesday afternoon. We are the same age, went all through school together and have maintained our family bond through the years.
More tomorrow.
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