Letting The Sun Shine In

I think that God allows some storms in our lives just to accentuate the light of the sun when it breaks through. That was certainly the feeling one particularly tumultuous summer when I was a teen. Early that summer, the house my grandparents had built on their homestead caught fire and burned. A few weekends later, my dad went there with others to pour footings for a new abode; my uncle was living there at the time. As dad returned home, he thought about stopping in to check on Grandpa and Grandma, who lived just around the corner from us. He was tired that Sunday night and thought, I'll check in on them tomorrow."

Early Monday morning, our phone rang. It was my cousin Gary, who had spent the night at our grandparents' house. Grandpa had just suffered a massive heart attack and died. Though he was 81 and they had moved down from the mountain because of his heart problems, the grief we felt from Grandpa's death was mammoth. It was the heaviness of that storm that made our summer vacation so significant.

Normally we would have traveled to the Rocky Mountains in northern New Mexico for a vacation with relatives, picnics and fly fishing. That year, regardless of the painful loss, a house had to be built. Various family and friends started gathering, some from far away. They brought their skills, their tools, and their helpfulness to focus on the erection of a simple, four-room house to replace the one that had been lost in the fire. Our family stayed in tents. I don't remember how (or if) we showered that week. I do remember getting up each day, eating a hearty breakfast and going to work. Foundation, flooring, and framing each took about a day. Amazingly, a house took shape in about a week.

Each time I am able to attend our family reunion in Pie Town, NM, I remember that week of my teens. That house still stands; in fact, some of the family always stays there on reunion weekend. It's a joy to recall the way everyone worked together to accomplish a slightly amazing task. That week so long ago became the sunshine following a grievous storm.

Remembering the good things is one of the joys we ought to experience as we begin a new year. I hope you can join us as we celebrate some of them this weekend at Stone Ridge Church! Can't join us? Catch the podcast!

 

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Merry Christmas!

I confess. Cathy and I like to watch Christmas movies. In addition to It's A Wonderful Life, which is pretty much an annual tradition, we enjoy taking the occasional quiet evening during the Christmas season to relax in front of a family-friendly film. Some of them are cheesy, some are funny and some are ridiculous. I was caught off guard, then, by a quite serious and subtly hopeful film called Midnight Clear. Midnight Clear was written and produced by Jerry B. Jenkins, who co-authored the popular Left Behind series of books.

I mention this movie because I found it quite depressing at the start. It seemed as if every character was in emotional, relational pain. Each minute of the story seemed more hopeless than the last. I found myself wondering what would happen to turn this story around. I mean, isn't Christmas suppose to be about hope rather than hopelessness? Isn't hope a big theme in Hollywood? The stories are supposed to drag you to the depths, then give you a fast elevator ride to a hero (at Christmas, it's usually Jesus or Santa) who saves the day, makes you want to cheer and causes an "I'd watch that again!" to escape from your lips.

Midnight Clear didn't do that. Most of the characters were still in significant pain at the end of the story. Why, then, would I take the time to write about this film and even use "subtly hopeful" to describe it? It was only after a few hours of reflection that it hit me: real life isn't like Hollywood movies. Real life is far more about small decisions, subtle changes and stubborn determination to step into pain than it is about some hero flying in to instantly save the day. Real life is about real hope and Midnight Clear is full of it; you just have to look closely to find it.

If nothing else, Midnight Clear will make me look at this week's Christmas services with different eyes. Who will attend with a family member, grasping the last strand of hope that maybe -- just maybe -- their family can be healed? Who will miss because the loss they have suffered is just too overwhelming? Who will do something out of raw obedience and experience the joy of watching God work through it?

Those are the real joys at Christmas. They may not have people lining up to pluck down a small pile of hard-earned dollars at the box office, but I think they are pretty popular on heavenly screens!

This is our 42nd Christmas together and our 28th to share with Stone Ridge Church family. Cathy and I are overwhelmed with gratitude. Merry Christmas! May you experience the fulness of God's tender mercies and the speechless joy of discovering His purposes as you enter 2014.

 

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Purposeful Protection

On a recent night, I was tossing and turning, not able to sleep. It was on a weekend when I experienced an oppressive spiritual attack. As if out of nowhere, I was fighting off feelings of fear, anxiety, worry and hopelessness. I had suffered such attacks before and each time I arrived at a place of peace, experiencing God's presence in an unusual way. On this night, I was praying my way through and I suddenly sensed that Jesus was speaking to my heart. (Those of you who don't believe will struggle with this and I'm comfortable with your skepticism.) He took me back to the time my mom almost miscarried when she was pregnant with me. "I protected you then," He said.

Then He reminded me of how ill I was as a tiny child. "I brought you through," He said gently. One by one, He brought to memory different times that my life was in danger. At least one was my own fault, but several times I was suddenly thrown into dangerous circumstances. Each time He said, "I protected you."

I suddenly realized that there were other times; times He protected me and kept me alive that I never knew about. He orchestrated events to keep me from danger that was coming, but, instead, never got there. As I felt amazed by His goodness, He again spoke to my heart. "I created you for what is coming. I protected You because I designed you for my purposes which must be lived out." In other words, the God of the Universe designed me for a purpose (He did the same for you!) and He has faithfully worked behind the scenes of my life to put me in the situations where that purpose can be realized.

Some consider it just silly that we might be part of some giant, cosmic plan. In their world, we create our own destiny, either for good or for evil. In that way of thinking, there is no God or he isn't really that interested in us personally. We carve out our own niche, we reap the rewards for doing a good job or we pay the penalty for not doing well.

"Odd," you might say, "that you are focusing on this subject at Christmas." But, it's not odd at all...when you discover what was happening in the invisible realm as the familiar characters were experiencing the first Christmas in the visible realm. Not odd at all! Find out more this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. Can't be there? Catch the podcast!

 

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God's Orchestrations

Head spinning and knees ready to buckle, I stood on the parade field. I had been sick for several days, but I was NOT going to miss our graduation for boot camp. I was in the U.S. Army at Fort Ord, California and we were one day away from the ceremony that would mark the end of the beginning of our military duty. I was sick with the flu, but I refused to go on "sick call."

During the previous two or three nights, I had to wrap myself up in several blankets to stave off the chills. I slept all I could and got up each morning with enough energy to get the day started. As it wore on, I became weaker and weaker, with me plodding through classes and physical training, then finally dropping into bed as early as possible. Now we were at the last day of training and I was standing in formation on the parade ground; this was the final run-through of the ceremony which would take place the next day.

That night was the hardest of all. Other men in my unit were busy getting ready to enjoy graduation and I was bundled up on my bunk shivering. Several interruptions during the night added to my physical discomfort. Each time something woke me up, I wanted nothing more than to roll up in wool blankets and go back to sleep. The morning arrived with just enough hope that I could get through this last day. The graduation went as planned; I barely remember it. It was what happened after the graduation that was forever etched in my memory as one of God's mysterious ways.

Some of the men in my unit had family who came in from nearby cities for graduation. Others just took advantage of the liberty granted to them and headed into town for the night. I went back to my room, wrapped blankets around me and went to sleep. Late that afternoon, a couple of the guys came in to check on me. I will never forget their kindness. Others were out partying and these two guys from the Deep South were concerned about me. They told me they thought I should go on sick call. I was finally so ill that I simply said, "Okay."

The Fort Ord hospital was right across the street from our barracks. My two fellow graduates walked me across and took me to a medic who was on duty. The medic heard my symptoms and stuck a thermometer in my mouth. A couple of minutes later, he pulled out the thermometer, looked at it and walked out of the room. My temperature was so high that he came back in wearing a surgical mask to help protect himself from whatever I had. "We're admitting you to the hospital," he said. Within a few minutes I was upstairs in bed, being filled with medication and given strict orders that I had to drink a huge glass of fluids every few hours.

The next day, Friday, was transition day following graduation. Everyone was shipped off to their next duty station for advanced training. Many, like me, were assigned to schools at Fort Ord, so they were simply "shipped" to a different barracks on another part of the base. I, however, was lying in the hospital. I was told that I would stay administratively attached to my basic training unit until we knew how long it would take to recover. Then I would be assigned to an advanced unit for my next phase of training.

Cathy and I were in our first year of marriage at the time. Those brief months of separation felt like forever to us. We had been told that we could live off base during the next phase of training so we made plans for her to fly out. She was scheduled to arrive the Monday after graduation, Memorial Day. Fortunately I was much better by Saturday afternoon and was released on Sunday morning.

The following Friday was another transition day on that large training base and I was "shipped" off to my advanced training unit. I wrongly thought that I would be with the guys from my boot camp unit who were attending the same school. Instead, I was assigned to the company right next door to theirs. When I arrived, I discovered that the possibility of living off base with my wife was completely up to the Commanding Officer of the company to which I was assigned. Fortunately, Charlie Company's CO was inclined to let us have this privilege, within very tight restrictions. I wasn't there very long before I ran into some of my own buddies from basic and the conversation came up. Their company commander was unwilling to let them live off base, even if their wife was there.

I spent a very sick weekend in a hospital and it opened the door for me to stay with my wife rather than living apart. God orchestrated my illness to give us a great blessing. Also, Cathy's presence during that season helped open up a whole sequence of events that changed the direction of our lives.

The Christmas story contains pain, hardship and even the slaughter of innocents, with God orchestrating it all to accomplish His greater purposes. If you look at the story with the eyes of faith, you can begin to understand a little more of the mystery of God's work. We will talk about it this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. Can't be there? Catch the podcast!

 

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Friendly Light Up Ahead

I usually took a shortcut across an orchard and through a couple of barbed-wire fences. Dodging cow patties was no problem and well worth the effort when the fruit was ripe. "Ripe"was a relative term for me as a kid; by the time the Jonathan apples were about an inch in diameter, I was forever grabbing one off the tree to eat. I actually liked the Yellow Delicious apples better green than ripe. Worth the effort indeed! But, sometimes the shortcut wasn't available. That's when I had to take the long way; the country road next to our house.

My destination was almost always the same. My best friend Mike lived around the corner from us, less than a quarter mile away. Whether we walked across the orchard or on the road, we each burned up the trails between our houses. Day and night, every season of the year, we were almost constantly together. Even today, I can "see" almost every step of the way. I picture walking up the Smith's driveway and around the back patio into the back door. With adult eyes, I imagine looking down upon myself as a kid. I see a carefree boy walking, running, and skipping, picking up a rock to throw at a fence post, pulling the mature head from a blade of grass and chewing on it to taste the sweetness.

Those memories have faded with time, but one night I made a trip to Mike's that I won't ever forget. One of us called the other and we decided that I would go over to his house. I told my parents where I would be and walked out into the night air. As I stepped into the shadow created by our front porch light, I realized how dark it was. Moonless, the night sky was ablaze with stars, but they weren't enough to really light my path. At that time, none of the people in our country neighborhood had streetlights. Without the moon, it was hard to even see the road I was walking on. One or two neighbors, like us, had their porch lights on; otherwise it was pitch black. Only those few familiar points of light helped me know when I got to Mike's.

For you to get the full picture, you need to know that I was a little afraid of the dark. Not terrified, but just a bit fearful of what I couldn't see out there. With heightened senses, I noticed every tiny sound, concerned that the din of my own footsteps would awaken some pouncing horror. Step by tenuous step, I walked along that road. Then I saw Mike's driveway and felt the comforting glow of lights shining inside his house. I walked around the side, into the darkness of the back patio area...

...where Mike jumped screaming out of the shadows and scared the living daylights out of me!

I'll never forget that trip. I thought of it again recently as I pondered some profound verses about light and darkness:

"God is light and in Him is no darkness..." (1 John 1:5)

"People loved the darkness more than the light." (John 3:19)

Truth is, we all enjoy the darkness at times, especially when it hides our own inner darkness. In the end, though, something in us wants to find a familiar driveway and the warmth of friendly light up ahead. Light is one of the great promises at Christmas. We talked about it recently at Stone Ridge Church. Catch the podcast.

 

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The Power of Promises

I have been listening to the audio book of The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York. Robert A. Caro published this Pulitzer Prize winning biography back in 1975. (Before you rush out to get a copy, be aware that it's 1344 pages in length.) Robert Moses had a vision for parks -- places to play and rest -- and became the power behind the development of such parks and the parkways (limited access highways) to get to them.

What began as a desire to beautify and provide something helpful to the millions who moved into New York from around the world, got warped into a way for Mr. Moses to collect and wield personal power. He learned the tricks of patronizing, bullying, and character assassination to literally bend elected politicians to his will. One of his favorite ploys was lying. He would intentionally underestimate the cost of a project so that elected officials would release the money to do it. He knew that, once a project was started, those same officials couldn't afford the political fallout of calling it a failure and stopping it. Instead, they would just release more money to pay the real cost of the project, the cost that Moses knew from the very beginning. He used this deception again and again.

The result of Robert Moses' actions was that millions considered him a genius and a friend of the little guy throughout most of his life. It was only at the end of his career when the judgment of history would tell the true story of his corruption. I thought of him and did a quick comparison to another man who lived during a similar era: my dad.

"My word is my bond," my dad used to say. If he gave his word to someone, it carried the same weight as a stack of notarized documents. As I write this, I can hear the voice of Samwise Gamgee saying, "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo; a promise..." in The Lord of the Rings. Sam wouldn't let Frodo sneak off into Mordor by himself. Why? Because he promised. And Samwise kept his promises. That's the way my dad lived his life. You gave your word and you kept your word; your integrity rested upon it.

I'm reflecting as I write this, thinking about the many people I know whose dads (and/or moms) made promises that they didn't keep. They may have been as intentionally corrupt as Robert Moses, or they could have simply developed weak character, not learning to follow through on their words. Either way, those unkept promises left a mark. For many, those empty pledges have become like an emotional leprosy, constantly eating away at things like joy and hope. Dwelling in those shadows can cause a person to believe that ALL promises are made to be broken.

On this Thanksgiving weekend, we kick off our Christmas study in God's Word. It is fitting that we begin with a simple, profound reminder: God keeps His promises! This message could be the best gift you receive in all the Christmases of your life. Bring a friend and join us at Stone Ridge! Can't be there? Catch the podcast!

 

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Communications Conundrum

I punched in the number and pressed "Send." My heartbeat jumped a couple of notches as I waited for the call to go through. Trying to keep my focus on the road in front of me and the vehicles around me, I thrilled to the response on the other end of the line. A familiar voice. In another state. Far away. I don't think I will every forget that call.

Who did I call? I don't really remember. Why was I so excited? Oh, that was the real issue, you see. I was excited because I was talking on a cell phone to someone in another state as I drove down the road in my car. And this didn't happen last week or last month; it happened about twenty years ago. What an advance in technology! What a leap in communications possibilities! I had no idea where this was heading. Most likely, neither did you.

It was only a year or two later when I discovered that one of my friends, a businessman who worked extensively in both Phoenix and Yuma, did non-stop business deals on his phone as he commuted along Interstate 8. He called me one day and we talked for at least a half-hour. His signal dropped for a couple of minutes, then he called right back. I remember dreaming at the time of the possibilities.

We still didn't understand where it was going.

A couple years after that, mobile phone companies came up with plans that didn't charge you for minutes in which you called another of their mobile phones. Suddenly we saw an exponential increase in the number of people who had a "cell phone." Then, shortly, mobile phones moved from "toys" to necessities.

I am writing these words on an iPad, using an App that will allow me to send it or post it in more directions than you can shake a stick at. By the time it goes online, some of you will read it in an email, but far more will read it directly from my blog. The largest number of readers will come from Twitter and Facebook, with some linking in from...you guessed it...LinkedIn. While all these different ways of communicating still amaze me, one of the biggest changes in my life is not that I can send these words out through so many various channels, but that you can communicate back to me through just as many media (probably more).

Suddenly...SUDDENLY we can see where this was going!!

We can Skype or Facetime with someone across town or on the other side of the planet, often for "free." We can hold meetings in which we all sit in our own homes and offices, seeing and hearing each other. We can send and receive messages, carrying on running conversations with each other. WE. CAN. COMMUNICATE! But many of us have all but forgotten how to shut it off.

And it's sucking the life out of us.

That's why I'm going to talk about it this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. Can't be there? Catch the podcast!

 

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