What "bombs" do you fear?

In David and Goliath, Malcolm Gladwell tells the story of how Germany’s bombings of London were intended to slap down the "stiff upper lip" of the British and render them as yet another victim of their blitz across Europe. Instead of crushing England’s will and thereby rendering them helpless to a Nazi invasion, the bombings actually increased the British determination to stand up to Hitler’s minions. How? The explosions created a long series of near misses that emboldened the victims to believe they would live through anything the enemy threw at them.

I thought of Gladwell’s description as I reflected on what happened to me about two years ago. In September, 2012, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. This was the very disease that took my dad’s life in 1990. What I gained from watching him succumb to the invisible monster was the determination to keep a close watch to hopefully stop it long before it was unstoppable.

What did I lose? I lost a lot of joy because way too much of my time was consumed by worry and fear that I would get cancer and die. Virtually all that fear was baseless, but it destroyed many good hours (or days) nonetheless.

Two things happened in the Fall of 2012 that changed something in me. The first was when a friend — a man with a strong gift of intercession — was praying for me one day. I told him of my impending biopsy and my anxiety. He simply said, "You don’t need to carry that load anymore." With those words, he began to physically brush me off and prayed a prayer, breaking the power of fear that had gripped me. Amazingly, the anxiety left.

The second thing I experienced was something like the "near miss" Gladwell had described as the bombs fell on London. My biopsy came out positive. In the long night after getting the test results, I asked God for some word of confirmation that He was with me. Almost instantly He reminded me of two conversations that took place in the previous three months. The first was with a lady in the Dominican Republic who regularly prays for me and my family. "God told me to tell you," she said, "to not be afraid. He has everything under control." The second conversation, about a month later, was with a man in our church. "The Lord has placed you on my heart for the last three weeks," he said. "As I have been praying for you, He told me to tell you not to fear. Everything will be okay." A few hours before, I heard the dread words: "You have cancer." Now, as I reflected on those two strange conversations, I fell asleep and slept like a baby.

A couple days after that, I was sitting in a urology office in Phoenix, hearing a doctor recommend surgery and predicting that it would go well. Cathy and I knew that this was the right path for us and made the decision to schedule the operation in November of that year. The pathology of the removed prostate determined that the cancer had been more aggressive that the original biopsy showed and it seemed to be growing even more aggressive, but the news was good: the cancer was gone.

That combination of my friend’s prayer to remove the anxiety and the successful operation to remove the cancer changed something in me. Most of my old fears were neutralized. All of this brings me to something Jesus said: "Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?" (Matthew 6:27 New Living Translation) The obvious answer is, "no," but that doesn’t always break the power of worry for those who struggle with it.

For that reason, I’m very excited about the next installment of "From here to where?" at Stone Ridge Church this weekend. "From ‘What if?’ to ‘God is!’" promises to open up life-changing possibilities. I hope you can join us! If not, catch the podcast!

Posted with Blogsy

Relocation

The summer of 1972 was pivotal for me.  Cathy and I were married that August, but it was what happened earlier in the summer that taught me some life lessons that still affect me most every day.  

 I was 20 (almost 21) years old.  I had left college without graduating (which came later) and took a job for a Christian organization in Ohio.  Cathy and I had gotten engaged that spring, then spent most of the summer across the country from one another.  She was in Oregon as a summer missionary.  Even though my pay was low, it was the closest thing to a real, steady job that I had known.  The people I worked for provided me with a car and I enjoyed a level of great freedom.  

 

I got involved in a tiny church in the college town where I lived.  I had been involved in small churches before, but this one was about the smallest, with only about 20-30 people in attendance each week.  I recall a certain twinge of guilt when the offering plate was passed during worship, but that uneasy feeling was minor compared to the temptation I felt in other areas.

 

The building where I worked was on the main street of town, and a nice men’s store was just a couple doors down from us.  I got to know the owner, which made it easy to stop in there and admire the latest in men’s fashions.  When I saw a pair of slacks I liked, I got them.  Ditto with belts and shirts and ties (yes, I used to wear them!).  When I didn’t have enough money in my checking account, they made it easy to charge my purchases.  

 

The freedom of a vehicle added the possibility of regularly going to movies and I ate most meals in restaurants or fast food places.  There was always something to do in my off hours and most of it cost money, which ran through my pockets like water through a tea strainer.  

 

No amount of angst over my lack of money to give to the church offering seemed to lessen my drive to spend on all the things that called out to me from every direction.  

 

I almost didn’t tell this story because of the sadness it still brings me.  I wanted to tell it, though, because God has radically changed this part of my life over the years.  I’m so glad He did.  Jesus said, "Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be." Matthew 6:21 (New Living Translation)  I remember what life felt like when my treasure and my heart were both firmly planted in the world’s lie that life consists in my possessions.  I tell my story because I am convinced that many of you, like me, are still fending off the guilty feelings of not giving while you are yielding to the temptation to keep spending more and more, with the hope of finding happiness.  

 

By God’s grace, I changed.  Here’s how:

1. I married Cathy.  I smile as I say this, since she’s taken and not available for anyone else!  But I emphasize this point because Cathy had something I didn’t have enough of at that age: discipline.  Cathy had been taught (so had I) that the tithe (10% of income) comes first.  It was her discipline that helped me do what I had known, but failed to do, before.
2. I discovered that God genuinely cares about our needs.  Over and over, we have seen Him provide when problems seemed insurmountable.
3. I discovered that it really IS more blessed to give than to receive. (Acts 20:35)  Life’s deepest joys have come to us from giving.
4. I discovered that you can’t out-give God. (Luke 6:38)  God is so generous and He loves it when His people start living by His divine design!  He created us in His own image, which means He created us to give.  
5. I discovered that my heart fills with deep joy when it’s located near God’s heart.  God’s heart is in the needs of the people He created.  This is the treasure-heart principle being lived out.

42 years later, I write this with a longing that everyone…EVERYONE…would learn to live this way.  I don’t have it down perfectly yet.  There are still hiccups and messes, but the joy that comes from living this way surpasses anything I ever imagined back when I tried to fill my life with this world’s stuff.  If this can help encourage you on that journey, it would bring me great joy.

 

This weekend, we will dig into Jesus words on this subject.  It’s part of our “From here to where?’ series.  I hope you can be there!  Can’t make it?  Catch the podcast! 

Playing to the Crowd

Crowds have this effect on people.  Whether it’s the crazy faces people make as they snap their “selfies” or the bizarre antics the moment they realize they are on the big screen of a sports stadium, crowds can cause us to say and do strange things.

 

I have little friend named Kate.  Kate is about 11 months old and the source of many smiles for us.  She surprised us all when she started walking at about 9 months, then rapidly proceeded from walking to running to…dancing.  The other day her mom sent us a video of Kate moving to tunes coming from Pandora.  I got this big smile as I watched her rhythm; many kids aren’t walking at her age.  In the middle of the video, Kate's mom gave away the fact that she was dancing in front of an iPhone.  Rather than shut down in embarrassment, Kate broke into a wide smile and turned up the force of her jiggle.  “All the world’s a stage,” said some guy named Will.  

 

I wrote most of this post while sitting in front of a football game at my brother’s house.  I don’t watch sports very much and this experience caused me to reflect on how the players on the field do their job to be seen by others.  A couple years back, an NFL quarterback seemed more interested in what God thought about him than he was about the people who cheered for his team.  A lot of fans didn’t like it.  

 

So, is it okay when little Kate gets excited in front of a camera?  How about when a wide receiver makes a spectacular catch and the crowd goes wild?  Neither scenario seems at all unusual or critical.  But, is there a danger in living our lives to be seen by others?   Jesus obviously thought so and he had a point.  Crowds are fickle by their very nature.  What happened to the popularity of that star football player whose most famous video is not some stupendous play on the field, but the very ugly behavior toward his wife in an elevator?  In simplicity, doing good works to be seen and applauded by others limits the favor of the One who will love us even when we stumble or behave badly.

 

Jesus had much to say on this subject and we will learn from His words this weekend at Stone Ridge Church.  I hope you can be with us.  Can’t make it?  Catch the podcast! 

Those Powerful Words

I once heard the story of the man who picked up his small son and stood him on a table. The boy looked at his daddy, then glanced down at the floor, which seemed a great distance below his tiny feet. The father held out his arms and said, "Jump! I will catch you."

The boy, quite afraid of the height, cried, "No, daddy, I’m scared! What if you miss?"

"I’m your big strong daddy," the man said. "Of course I won’t miss. Jump!"

The little boy looked again as his papa’s arms, then down to the floor, and began crying in earnest. "No, daddy, I’m afraid!"

A stern look in his eyes, the man said again, "Jump! I will catch you! Jump, boy!"

As a feeling of hope swirled around inside him, the little boy lifted his eyes from the floor so far below and fixed them firmly on the arms of his father. Then, crouching slightly to launch himself, he sprung off the table to his dad’s waiting arms…

…only his dad was no longer there. He took a quick step backwards and let the little boy fall to the floor. The little one, shocked and hurt, said, "Daddy, you moved; you let me fall!" To which his father replied, "That will teach you never to trust nobody!"

I grew up in a home where my dad’s word was his bond. His promise was no less powerful than a signed, notarized contract. I think about his generation and the way business was often done with a handshake. Promises were most often kept. My dad also taught me to be wary of those whose promises were regularly broken. In his car business, he knew the ones who brought a vehicle in for repairs and would want to pick it up, promising to pay him later. His principle was simple: when you pay, you get your car back. That might sound harsh, but it kept his customers honest and kept his bills paid.

King Solomon, known for his wise sayings, knew something about those powerful things we call words. He said, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver." (Proverbs 25:11 English Standard Version) I find this proverb both beautiful and challenging in this day when so many promises are made and so few are kept. Becoming a person who says what she means and means what she says might quickly distinguish someone, in the home, in the school, in the church, in the neighborhood and in the marketplace.

You probably won’t be surprised that Jesus spoke of the power of promises. That’s the topic this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. On our "From here to where?" journey, Jesus set a high standard for the way our word must be our bond. Hope you can be there. If you can’t, catch the podcast!

 

Posted with Blogsy

Unknown

Cathy and I like to joke about the kinds of movies she enjoys.  Three subjects seem to fascinate her: twins, kidnappings and amnesia.  Twins is a “no brainer” subject for her, since we have twin daughters.  I’m not sure how she got fascinated with kidnapping.  Amnesia?  I used to understand that one…but I forgot!   When she was a kid, Cathy followed a comic strip that had all three.  Kidnapped twins, with one having amnesia.  Totally cool!

 

Though it contains none of Cathy’s favorite subjects, one of our favorite movies is a romantic comedy released a few years ago.  In it, the destined couple meet, start falling for each other, then go their separate ways early in the story.  Both of them end up trying to find love in the arms of others, but neither can quit thinking about the love they “lost.”  At various times in the story, they come amazingly close to running into each other, but always miss…until the end.  It’s easy to love stories like that.

 

Today, though, I want to mention a lost love that never gets found.  It’s the story of a guy who is full of selfless love for the girl of his dreams.  Over and over, he looks for ways to meet her and demonstrate the kind, gentle, unselfish love that he knows will fill her heart to overflowing.  When she seems to ignore his attempts to reach out to her, he goes to great lengths to demonstrate his love in ways that she might understand.  Each time that fails, he calls on some of his friends to approach her and tell her how great his love is.

 

Over and over, the girl spurns the kindness of the most caring person she will ever hear about.  She ignores him, quietly walking the other way.  Sometimes she finds other people, people who hurt her and take from her without ever really caring about her…but she flaunts those relationships, throwing them in the kind one’s face.  Sometimes she acts as if she might change her mind, having a brief conversation with him.  Those talks, though, always end with her rejecting him and running off to others.  

 

The sad end of this story comes when it is too late.  All his attempts to develop a loving relationship have been pushed away.  The day arrives when she can no longer say yes…even if she wanted to.  On that day, he will say the most painful words he could ever utter: “I never knew you; get away from me.” (Matthew 7:23 New Living Translation)

 

A careful reading of the Bible will reveal one of the great themes of the text: God designed us to have an intimate relationship with Him.  Over and over again, He is seen as the patient, persistent, loving Bridegroom, seeking His bride so that He can shower her with His loving presence.  We, you and I, are the bride.  Our whole existence is based on a huge divine attempt to KNOW us.  He gives us chance after chance to accept His offer of love.  If we do, His heart rejoices and we begin to know a life beyond our previous imagination.  If we don’t…

 

…we end up UNKNOWN.  For eternity.

 

This weekend at Stone Ridge Church, we will talk about endless love.  I can’t wait to discuss it with you!  Can’t be there?  Catch the podcast! 

I Quit Liking Chocolate!

As I transitioned from high school to college, a strange thing happened: I no longer had a taste for chocolate. The horror! I confess this, knowing that some of my readers just lost all faith in me. Imagine, not liking chocolate, when I am surrounded by people addicted to the stuff. Surely I’m kidding, right?

No!

 

I QUIT LIKING CHOCOLATE!

 

Everything else in my 18-year-old world seemed normal at the time. I was full of energy, easily distracted, lacking many of the disciplines it took decades to learn, and far more interested in playing than in doing college homework. But, among my many faults and foibles, I wasn’t temped to eat chocolate. "This is crazy," I thought, as a friend would offer me a Hershey or Nestle’s chocolate bar. "I have always liked chocolate. What happened to me?"

 

For a while, the only answer I could come up with…the only answer that made any sense...was something I once heard about taste buds changing every few years. I had heard that taste buds change every so often and that some people end up liking food they didn’t like before or vice versa. Surely that must be what happened to me and chocolate.

 

I held on to that theory until I remembered something one day. It was something I had pushed back into the far recesses of my mind, but somehow it jumped out at me. It was a memory from my senior year in high school. That year I had a job before and after school, so I had a little spending money. I also was a member of the high school German Club. Our annual club fundraiser was selling World’s Finest chocolate. Back then, a pretty good sized World’s Finest bar was fifty cents. We also sold their Bon Bons for a dollar a box. They were an almond covered with chocolate and coated by a hard candy shell, as I remember it. Anyway, I checked out a case of the bars (twenty of them) and a case of the Bon Bons (ten of them) to sell.

 

The only thing was that I didn’t have much time to sell. I was working many days before and after school. I was also working on the weekends pretty often and involved in lots of school activities. The work meant that I had money and, besides, I LOVED CHOCOLATE!

 

So I ate it.

 

Then I ate more of it. Bar after bar (almost two cases, I think) and box after box.

 

I ate it until I couldn’t stand the thought of chocolate. I just quit liking it.

 

If you have stayed with me this long, I need to let you in on a little secret. This message isn’t about chocolate. It’s about something else that I overindulged as a kid. I overindulged so badly that, one day I did something that scared me to the core. It scared me so deeply, in fact, that it still marks the way I interact with people.

 

My childhood overindulgence was anger. I got so angry one day (I was probably 9 or 10 years old at the time), I seriously tried to hurt someone I loved. I still shudder to think of it. Fortunately, I didn’t really hurt the person, but the shock of my own rage flipped some kind of inner switch in me that has, to this day, kept me wary of any anger that comes up inside of me.

 

Over the years, I have looked back on times when some anger would have been appropriate, but I have deferred to soft responses. I know that "A gentle answer deflects anger…" (Proverbs 15:1 New Living Translation). However, I also know that Jesus, the One I serve…the One who lives in me...fiercely drove out the money-changers in the Temple. If God shows wrath at times, it’s a part of the natural, inherent makeup of those created in His image.

 

It took a long, long time, but I started liking chocolate again. Some days I like it too much, but I take heart in studies that show a moderate amount of chocolate (at least the dark variety) is actually good for you. I dare say that the same is true of anger. But honestly, I haven’t figured out how to use it correctly yet. I will have to keep growing in this area.

 

This weekend at Stone Ridge Church, we take a hard look at some things Jesus said about war and peace. I don’t think chocolate will find its way into this sermon, but anger? Undoubtedly! Can’t join us? Catch the podcast!

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

Salt of the Earth

I’ve been thinking about it and can recall people in almost every town where I’ve lived that are what you would describe as “salt of the earth” folk. These were often not the people whose name would be found in lights. They certainly wouldn’t have their pictures in the paper for some misdeed. They were what one might call “the ordinaries.” They didn’t live their lives to be noticed and didn’t get hot under the collar if they were slighted in some way.

In Seaside, California, I think of a couple named Buck and Cora. I’m not sure what brought them to the Monterey Peninsula from somewhere in the deep South (Alabama, I think it was), but they lived on California’s Central Coast for many years. As a couple, Buck and Cora were about as different from each other as the hard wood of a maple tree is different from the sweet sap that flows out of it.

 

Buck’s salty persona was right at home in the Monterey of the mid-seventies. He was a man of few words. In fact, I can vaguely remember anything he said. Buck was one of those guys who faithfully attended church services and church functions, but rarely spoke. What I do remember about him was the way he showed up every Saturday to mow the lawns and trim the bushes. That church property always looked beautiful on Sundays, largely because Buck just did his job. What made it his job? I don’t know. I just know that he faithfully did it for years. If a mower broke, he would quietly fix it. If he saw a problem with the landscape, he would just take care of it. Looking back, I realize that Buck was the kind of man you might want as a neighbor. He would have been one of the first ones to offer a hand when you needed it. He wouldn’t want attention, but would simply help take care of business.

 

Unlike her husband, Cora’s words were like the coo of a dove. Her southern accent was a beautiful, smooth drawl that somehow had never taken on on the flat, crisp tones of the West Coast. It was that friendly voice that endeared Cora to scores of preschool children. You see, Cora would make calls to all her kindergarten class each Saturday. She would ask to speak with the child, then say, “I wanted to tell you about Sunday School tomorrow. Will you be there?” Our oldest, Sean, was still tiny when we moved away from Seaside, so we never got to watch Cora’s soft persuasion personally. However, I heard numerous parents tell stories about their youngsters in Cora’s class. Those days were long before cell phones and text messages. The telephone was a tool rather than a toy. Unlike today, children weren’t handed a phone to play games and entertain themselves. Instead, they could actually get in trouble for playing with the phone. But on Saturday mornings, their phone would ring and Cora would ask for them by name. They felt so big to have their own phone call to answer. Eyes would light up and they would have a real conversation with an adult for a few minutes. They LOVED the year that they were in "Miss Cora’s" class.

 

Buck and Cora often cross my mind. I came to understand that a church full of folks like them would be a productive, loving place. Though we left that town almost 40 years ago, their faces spring into the eye of my memory and I thank God for their “saltiness.” May God increase their kind.

 

“You are salt,” Jesus said. It’s a powerfully simple identity statement. Whether you are terse and tough like Buck or talkative and tender like Cora, Jesus designed you to add His flavor to the world around you. I can’t wait to talk about it this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. I hope you can join us. Can’t be there? Catch the podcast!

 

 

Posted with Blogsy