Getting Out of Your Rut

The real question that day was which one I would listen to: my adventurous, risk-taking brother-in-law or my conservative, safe father-in-law. We sat, facing the road ahead with a decision: do we take the short route or opt for the longer one?

We had started out that day to visit home-building sites in the Yuma area. My brother-in-law is a contractor in another part of the country and he has constant curiosity about what other builders are doing. My father-in-law built a few homes when he was younger, including the one which Cathy grew up in. That beautiful place has been their home for well over 50 years and still amazes me with its tight doors and windows. Together we went from site to site, walking through houses in various stages of construction. The two of them saw things I didn't and showed me how some builders cut corners while others were building houses to last. It was fascinating, to say the least.

We had ended our tour of new construction near the college and were headed east into the foothills when we literally ran out of road. We could see more new homes about a quarter mile away, a strip of Arizona desert directly in front of us. Tire tracks indicated that someone was driving across that desert, but we couldn't tell if my Honda Accord would make it.

"Maybe we should go around," I said, realizing that we might have to drive two or three miles out of the way to get to the construction zone in front of us. "I think you might be right," my father-in-law quickly agreed. "No use driving out in the middle of that and getting stuck."

"Go for it!" my brother-in-law said with enthusiasm. Those three words have probably been his life's motto; most of the time he has been right. So...

...I went for it. At first, it seemed like the right choice. But, somewhere, right out in the middle of that stretch of desert, the gravel content in the soil gave way to pure sand.

We were stuck almost up to our axles.

 

Being stuck in a rut is no fun when you're driving somewhere. It's even less fun when you're traveling through life. I find it interesting that God allows ruts to develop in this world...but he never intended for us to stay stuck in one. But how do we get out of our rut? That's the topic this November at Stone Ridge Church. Can't join us? Catch the podcasts here.

 

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A Time of Favor

College freshmen are known for many things, but good sense isn't usually one of them. I was a typical college freshman when God started stirring something in my heart. It was life-changing season for me and a group of friends. Though we were learning much about what it means to be a Christian at that time, we wouldn't have received a good sense medal. We tended to pray when we should have studied, play when we should have worked, and generally react toward authority the way a young stallion responds to the approach of it's first rider.

Even with all the senseless things going on in our lives, my friends and I thought nothing of taking audacious risks as we tried to understand what it means to follow Jesus. One such risk landed us in chairs across the desk from the Governor of Arizona. It's a story of great favor which we in no way deserved.

It was the Spring of 1970. The turbulent sixties were still being lived out with millions from our generation choosing to "Turn On, Tune In and Drop Out." Stephen Stills and Buffalo Springfield had inadvertently painted a word picture of our generation:

"There's battle lines being drawn

Nobody's right if everybody's wrong

Young people speakin' their minds

A gettin' so much resistance from behind."

In 1970, the early signs of a coming spiritual tsunami called the "Jesus Movement" were just beginning to be noticed. Viet Nam was under full assault, by our troops in Southeast Asia and by the protesters here at home. With large universities among his constituency, Arizona Governor Jack Williams had his hands full. Students were screaming for change, law enforcement was being pushed to the limits and the possibility of riots lingered in the desert heat.

So here we were, four goofy guys from a small Christian college, who got the audacious idea that we should ask for an appointment to go and pray for the governor. Looking back, I can think of a pile of reasons why almost anyone else should have done this task. We were full of spiritual fervor, but our maturity was in the tank. Still, one of us called and asked for an appointment. I don't think we were surprised that we received one.

Late one afternoon a couple weeks later we arrived at the State Capitol. We made our way to the elevator and up to the Governor's office on the top floor. The Governor's secretary graciously received us and a few minutes later we were ushered in. Governor Jack Williams greeted us with a handshake. He then asked a little about each of us. Quickly, one of the guys got to the purpose of the visit. "Governor," he said, "We have seen the news and know that you aren't very popular with many college students. We wanted you to know that we are concerned and would like it if you would let us pray for you."

It was a moment of great favor. We sat in a place we didn't deserve to be and spoke with a man who didn't have to see us. To top it all off, he very humbly and gratefully wanted our prayers. We prayed and left.

Favor is getting things you don't deserve to get, going places you don't deserve to go and meeting with people you don't deserve to meet. Jesus said, "The time of God's favor has come." (Luke 4:19) We will talk about it this weekend at Stone Ridge. Can't be there? Catch the podcast here.

 

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Overcoming Vicious Dogs

Some time back, Cathy and I were serving in a local church that set aside one night a week to visit people in their homes. We would take the addresses of recent visitors at our church and knock on their doors hoping for spiritual conversations. At a certain time on those evenings we would gather back at a church building to report on our visits. Needless to say, I was intrigued when one of our visiting teams returned to tell how they were prohibited from getting to the door of a house by a huge, angry dog standing just inside the front gate. My intrigue turned into something deeper than curiosity when a different team tried to visit that house the next week and met the same large, vicious canine.

Side note: I grew up with dogs...big dogs. In fact, most of the people who lived in the farming area where I was raised had big dogs. I am used to dogs barking and acting mean, only to have them start wagging their tail when they no longer feel threatened. My background made me consider the challenge of this particular feral beast as something of a personal problem that I needed to conquer. It felt as if I was being told, "I double-dog dare you," if you get my drift.

The next week on visitation night, I intentionally took the address of the "dog house." I couldn't wait to come back in a couple hours and report to the other teams how Cathy and I were able to make friends with the wicked animal, meet its owners and have a great talk with them about God.

We parked our car at the curb next to the aforementioned house, said a quick prayer and stepped into the early evening air. We were barely a step or two onto the sidewalk when a huge and vicious dog came running to the fence to see what we were about. His barks carried an ominous note, but I had heard many other dogs do the same and I wasn't really intimidated. We got to the front gate and the the animal increased his furious warnings. I stopped, spoke gently to him and slowly reached my hand over the fence for him to sniff. It took a moment for him to stop barking long enough and warily take in the scent of the back of my hand. Bit by bit, he saw that I wasn't threatening and he relaxed noticibly. Sensing that we were now on safe ground, I gingerly reached over to unlatch the front gate and the dog went into orbit. The pitch of his voice and the fire in his eyes told me that he would have none of it. I tried unsuccessfully to settle him again and let him sniff me; we were through. Cathy and I went back to the church and reported that this dog was the best gatekeeper we had ever seen.

Some dogs just can't be messed with. You can't trick them or coax them or lure them away from their vicious nature. This becomes ever so personal when you realize that some of those vicious beasts aren't just animals that run around on four legs; some take up residence inside human hearts. Did you ever feel like something dark and grisly was happening inside you and you couldn't seem to escape it? You may have tried every conceivable way of coping, but you still find yourself chained by a force you can't seem to break.

Jesus Christ spent a huge chunk of his ministry breaking the chains that bound the people around him. It's a ministry that still exists today among his followers. Come this weekend to Stone Ridge Church and find out how the "dogs" that keep hounding you can be neutralized so you can be set free. Can't be there. Catch the podcast here.

 

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Speaking Truth With Love

A mom I know recently told me the story of a conversation she had a few years ago with her daughter. The daughter was unhappy, complaining bitterly about one friend, then another. Finally the mom wisely said, "You know, you are telling me about all the problems between you and all your friends. While I understand that everyone does and says things that hurt others at times, the one constant between you and your friends is you. Could it be that the really problem is within you rather than them?" The daughter grew silent. The mom wait, concerned that maybe she had said too much. Finally, the daughter responded in a way that showed her understanding. She had never before considered that she might be the center of all her problems. Her mom's courage to tell her helped her get her attitude straight and change her relationships.

I love stories like that. What that mom did was "speak the truth in love." She took a risk that her daughter might just add her to the list of people to complain about. She had no control over how the daughter would respond, but she said what she needed to say, hoping for the best.

If you follow Jesus, one of your responsibilities it to have spiritual conversations with those who don't know Him. Most of Jesus' followers, at least in our part of the world, make a fatal mistake. They choose either truth or love. Truth without love is abrasive, rejecting those who don't fall lock-step into line. Love without truth feels nice and comfy at first, but forces even the deepest friendships to a surface level when it comes to things that matter.

Is there a way that we can have rich, meaningful conversations with those who don't believe and conduct them respectfully? Is it possible to talk about the big questions of life, even risking disagreement, but do so with such kindness that we maintain our friendships? It must be, because Christians through the centuries have been doing it. This weekend at Stone Ridge Church we will talk about how to ask great questions and open up meaningful conversations with our broken friends. If you can't attend, catch the podcast here.

 

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"New" Toys

 In the mist of my memory, I recall the day my dad brought a box of "new" toys home from work.  Dad worked in the service department of the local Ford dealership and occasionally he would bring something unusual home.  One day it was the autographed 45 (for you who have grown up in the digital world, that was a single play record that played at 45 rpm) by an up-and-coming country star.  Sometimes it was some small item that came from a wrecked vehicle he towed.  But, one day it was a box of toys.  "New" toys.  

 

I call them "new" because that's what they were…to us.  Looking back, I'm sure that a connoisseur of toys would have called them "junk."  But, to us, they were new.  They were partly broken and nothing much to look at, but something in them sparked a creative fire in me and my siblings.  We didn't get new toys that often and we were excited!  For days we set a high value on those toys, figuring out ways we could use them to have fun we might not have had without them.  

 

I'm thinking about those "new" toys today because I realize that they are a pretty good metaphor of the way God looks at the people whom people connoisseurs have assigned to the junk pile.  Some of you will immediately get a little defensive when I say this because you have heard that "God don't make no junk!"  In and of itself that statement is true, but our "junk pile" status is always because of the mess we made, not something that God did.  We end up broken and stinky, feeling pretty hopeless and trying to find some way to piece ourselves back together again.  In the meantime, the God who created us DEEPLY VALUES US EVEN IN OUR BROKEN CONDITION!  In fact, I'm convinced that our broken condition is the first step to discover just how much He really values us.

 

And we aren't just momentary playthings to Him.  HIS purpose has always been to help us discover OUR purpose and to find a life worth far more than we could have imagined without Him.  Our broken condition is the conduit to get us ready for what He alone can do.  

 

Stone Ridge is a church of broken people for broken people.  We consider our part in God's plan to pour our His love upon the brokenness of our culture to be one of the greats privileges of our lives.  I can't wait to talk with you about it this weekend!  If you can't be with us, catch the podcast here.

The Art of Conversation

At our house, the kitchen table was used for more than eating meals; it was the place of conversation. At the time I discovered this, I was unaware of the major turn it would make in my life. The home where I grew up was the regular gathering place for crowds of family and friends. My dad's outgoing personality and my mom's gift of hospitality opened the door for literally hundreds of get-togethers over the years. In my youngest years, those days were full of fun activity outside, where we ran and played to our hearts content. Something happened, though, as I was entering my young teens; I discovered conversation at the kitchen table.

With younger kids running around outside and naps and/or ball games in the living room, the kitchen table seemed to fill up with a hodgepodge of folks ready to talk about life. Whether it was the latest news, the weather, the most recent family updates or something else, people would sit around that table and visit for hours. "Ugh!" I thought as a little guy. Who in their right mind would want to sit around and talk when we could be outside throwing a ball or having a rotten apple war? (We had apple trees, much fruit would be blown off by the winds and, yes, we had "wars" of throwing them at each other.)

One by one, my older cousins lost interest in our outside games and migrated toward the kitchen table. Somehow the day finally came for me to do the same. I remember the fascination I felt at watching how stories would link together to comprise long, interesting visits. Some detail in one person's comment would erupt into a similar recitation from another. On and on these testimonies would travel until someone would call a halt for evening chores. At that point, the town folk in the family would gather up their young-uns and head home.

I recall those moments today because I realize that I loved being the center of attention and I could ALWAYS think of something to say to keep a conversation going. What I couldn't do very well was keep silent. It was hard for me to imagine that everyone around the table was anything but mesmerized by my brilliant tales. Today I think that their politeness got the better of them and they put up with me constantly talking rather than rudely tell me I should be quiet and let someone else speak for a while.

As I grow older, I have come to understand that God has, like those around our kitchen table, often had to put up with me talking nonstop during prayer. I know better than to believe that I will be heard for my many words, but I still must discipline myself to shut up long enough to listen...really listen...to what He might want to say to me.

What is your prayer life like? Do you regale God with endless stories? Do you barrage Him with long lists of requests delivered in machine-gun staccato? Do you quickly gush your prayer list out to Him, then hang up and go about your day? If so, you are missing one of the biggest joys available to those who pray; that of listening for and learning to hear His voice. More this weekend at Stone Ridge Church.

 

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Will God REALLY supply all my needs?

Eyes flitting back and forth, the old man stepped gingerly through the grove. Every few moments he found himself trying to scratch away the itch that seemed to afflict him wherever the rough fabric touched his skin. "How can peasants become accustomed to such coarse cloth?" he wondered. He spat with disgust. Why would he stoop to these lengths just to get an answer to the question plaguing his thoughts? He was the king, was he not?!

Finally, he saw the cottage among a tight knot of sycamore trees up ahead. Wisps of smoke curled out of the crude, clay chimney. She was home! With his two bodyguards, he paused behind one especially large tree. He couldn't be seen here. He himself have declared that women like her should be executed. They waited, perfectly still, as the gathering dusk overtook the sky above. The shadows deepened until all they could see was the tiny flicker of a candle from cracks in her old house. Finally, satisfied, he stepped out into the opening and went to the door.

"What do you want?" The wary gleam in her sharp eyes spoke of her constant fear. The sight of the three men was sufficient to raise her internal alarm to near panic. People rarely found their way to her and most wanted to be far away from her grove before darkness fell.

The old king, satisfied that she didn't recognize him, conjured up a pleading tone: "I need to speak with the medium," he whined. "Is that you?"

Fearing a trap, her heart pounded as she answered slowly. "A medium? Why would you need one of those foul creatures?"

“I have to talk to a man who has died,” he said. “Will you call up his spirit for me?”

“Are you trying to get me killed?” the woman demanded. “You know that Saul has outlawed all the mediums and all who consult the spirits of the dead. Why are you setting a trap for me?” But Saul took an oath in the name of the Lord and promised, “As surely as the Lord lives, nothing bad will happen to you for doing this.” (1 Samuel 28:8-10 NLT)

On the night before his death, King Saul stepped willfully into the lowest pit he could imagine, hoping to save what God had decreed would be taken from him. The Lord had promised him that his heirs would rule throughout the generations if only Saul would seek and obey Him. Saul did neither. In fact, it was his failure to humbly ask God for his needs and wait upon Him for answers that doomed the monarch. It is the choicest irony then, that Saul spent the last night of his life asking a woman to conjure up the spirit of dead Samuel to give him the answers he could no longer get from God Himself.

In the New Testament, Paul wrote, "Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done." (Philippians 4:6 NLT) Had Saul lived by that wisdom, his family would be remembered with honor rather than humiliation...

...which leads to the question: How are you doing with this command? Are you taking your needs to God, trusting Him to supply according to His wisdom and love for you? Or are you, like Saul, impatiently jumping in to do it yourself when you don't get the answer you want when you want it? The name for such trusting prayer is supplication. We will dig into it this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. Can't be there? Catch the podcast here.

 

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