Post

I am writing a new post for this blog (I have discarded two versions already), and I thought I'd just drop a note here asking for your patience. I try to post once or twice a week, but with school starting it is difficult.

I am writing about prayer. Types of prayer, effects of prayer, purpose of prayer.

If any of you have thoughts about it, I would love to hear them. Perhaps they will help me with this third version.

Thank you.

C.S.

Coffee

"At this my heart pounds and leaps from its place. Listen! Listen to the roar of his voice, to the rumbling that comes from his mouth. He unleashes his lightning beneath the whole heaven and sends it to the ends of the earth. After that comes the sound of his roar; he thunders with his majestic voice. When his voice resounds, he holds nothing back. God's voice thunders in marvelous ways; he does great things beyond our understanding." --Job 37:1-5


A few weeks ago, just before the church service, two elderly ladies motioned me over. Sweet ladies, faithful. I was a little taken aback to learn they were unhappy with me.

You see, I had some coffee in a travel mug, and I was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. They felt it was too casual for church, the coffee and the shirt. They meant well. They feel a sacredness in coming to church. (As they should, for He is there).

They also said something about how Jesus cast the money changers out of the temple because they were being disrespectful.

I think they were just feeling a little rebellious. A week earlier our pastor had spoken about how we sometimes focus on the wrong things, such as how people are dressed, or if they bring coffee with them to church. He also said something about all the stuff we owned and that he thought it would be great if we dragged all the things we don’t need down to the church, had a big sale, and gave the money to the poor. (I think that is where the money changers allusion comes in. It didn’t fit in real well, but they needed to work it in somehow.)

These little old ladies were taking a stand against the potential corrupting slide that may come from the relaxing of an unspoken dress code. They were striking a blow for the LORD, drawing a line in the sand, placing a little chip on their thin arthritic shoulders and daring me to knock it off. Kind of cute.

There are two points to this little interaction. First, they are wrong. Secondly, they are right.

They are right because we do feel too relaxed sometimes. We are coming to church and He is there. Right there! The living God, maker of all things, my creator, my savior. It is difficult to wrap my mind around the idea, but when I really consider who He is, I tremble. Sometimes during worship I shed a tear. This sounds a little melodramatic, I know. But I’m not talking about some fairy tale here. I feel Him near and it frightens me. It frightens me and it warms me.

Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said: "Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand.” -- Job 38:1-4

We often show more enthusiasm at a basketball game than when we “worship” the maker of all things. So, my mug of coffee (I mix cocoa in it!) does seem a little casual. As for the Hawaiian shirt, it is brightly colored and does not connote a very serious attitude.

So, they are right. Church is where mortality intersects with immortality. Sinful beings are confronted with holiness. It is best to set the coffee carefully down, and look inward and upward.

But they are also wrong. There is something else happening in church. It is community. It is a joyful celebration. I see my friends there, my church family. There I am loved, and wanted. This is the church that has recently set aside its own discomfort, hurts, inconveniences from a fire my son started so they could embrace me and my family. This is a place where I am loved, and I’m not a conformist either. In some ways I am a square peg in this church. Some people think outside of the box; I’ve friends there who laughingly say I have trouble finding the box. I am loved.

I was so sorry about what had happened this summer. I kept trying to find ways to make things right. To apologize, to atone for what my child had done. Finally, our pastor told me flat out to stop saying “I’m so sorry.” And I did. I kept thinking it for a while. But it finally sunk in. The damage to the church is far bigger than me. I cannot fix it. And it is wrong to try. They are my family. It hurt them to see me hurting.

And then something wonderful happened. I started to laugh. I laugh all the time now. It’s nuts, I know. But it is all too big for me. And when things get to be too much, I laugh.

Today was our first day back at work (I’m a teacher.) Golly, what a schedule! I have four different classes to prep for each day. I have two after school programs I will run each week. I have a study skills program that I will teach next week and monitor the students’ for eight more weeks. I counted up seven meetings a month that I will be attending. It’s nuts! (LOL!)

I laugh! I laughed every time today I thought about my overwhelming schedule. And the reason I laugh is. . . because it is NOT overwhelming. No matter what comes, no matter what is asked of me, He will be there with me. He will give me all I need.

My hands itch, the skin is flaking, peeling, splitting, bleeding. It’s funny! Why should I concern myself over an itch when He is near?! That back ache still nags, but it is no problem at all. Just a small discomfort. (I hurt much worse when I think about New Orleans.)

Ah. . . but I digress. My point is slightly to the left of this situation. I want to consider those little old ladies some more. They may wish for me to wear a tie, and to be a little more serious about my worship (I am a tad demonstrative). But I think our pastor was right on target about how we worry about the wrong things. Let’s look closely at those in church. Maybe we are a little bit casual in our dress, but there is a hugely conservative dress code still in full force.

I don’t see anyone with facial tattoos there. There may be, here or there, a nose with a stud in it, worn by some teen desperately trying to prove how individual she is. But I don’t see any tongue piercings, or brandings, or anything truly out of the ordinary.

I don’t see anyone who is clearly a drug addict. No one I know of is a former prostitute or drug trafficker. They are all good, clean people.

Not the sort of people Jesus went out to dinner with.

He went to and ate with all the wrong people.

My aunt came up to visit a couple of weeks ago (she lives 1,000 miles away). She and her friend brought their two dogs and were on a road trip to see the northwest. I was thinking about inviting them to church when I learned that they were heading south again on Sunday morning to meet up with folks in northern California.

The reason I was thinking about asking them instead of just asking is because they are lesbians.

I wasn’t sure how they would feel in our church. I wasn’t sure how the church would feel about them.

I’m not saying that we should water down our faith so that everyone should feel comfortable. I strongly believe that if my faith does not challenge me, if it isn’t bigger than me, then it is worthless. Fortunately my LORD is much bigger than me and I find Him quite challenging. (LOL)

What I am saying is that if I feel comfortable, loved in church, that is a good thing. But I should not let the nice clothes, the wholesome affection, the atmosphere of a close family lead me to forget something very important.

Clothes are just clothes. The important thing is hearts. I need to look at the people in my neighborhood and love them. Period. Just love them. That includes the guy who tore off his roof nine months ago and hasn’t opened up the roofing packages to fix the biggest eyesore in the neighborhood. That includes the trio of lesbians that live a block and a half from me. That includes the teen walking around town with the dramatic velvet cape and heavy mascara. That includes the odd homeless guy who mumbles to himself and smells terrible. These people are also my brothers and sisters. They need to know that they are loved, wanted, respected.

As for the Hawaiian shirt. . . well, it is a little bright, but it is clean, it is one of the nicest shirts I own, and it covers a heart that beats for our LORD. I don’t feel bad about the coffee as I chat with my spiritual siblings before service, but when it comes time to worship, I am focussed only on Him, not my homemade mocha.

The early church met in peoples’ homes. They met where they lived. Where they disciplined their children. Where they raised their children. Where they made their children. It is where their friends came to see them. It is where they wept for loved ones lost, and sang praises for loved ones gained. It is where they held each other tight, and it is where they laughed.

It’s just the kind of place Jesus liked to visit.

Untrapped

Prologue: I few weeks ago I wrote about “The Watcher.” I was grappling with the idea of how the creator is intent upon us, watching us, trying to be a part of our lives without shoving aside our free will.

I noted how Job felt this intense observation and it made him squirm:

“I Loathe my life: I would not live forever. Let me alone, for my days are a breath. What are human beings that You make so much of them, that You set Your mind on them, visit them every morning, test them every moment? Will You not look away from me for a while, let me alone until I swallow my own spittle?” --Job 7:16-19

It is interesting to note the similarities of this passage and a passage from the psalms:

". . .What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him? --Psalm 8:4

Job regularly set aside time for prayer (something that is a true blessing). Today’s posting is about a group of men who do that regularly, and what it was like slipping into the shadows to be a quiet part of it.

Untrapped

T. approached me briskly, a little excitement showing in his voice.

“Did you get my email?”

I mumbled some reply about not getting home yet. (I had been in the prayer room.) Something had been growing in my heart and I wasn’t sure about it.

T. asked if I would like to hear a “wild” idea. He invited me to go to the trappist monastery on Friday, early in the morning.

Flattered that he would ask, interested in the experience, and a little amused that this wild idea was nothing more unusual than getting up a little early, I said “sure!”

I’ve been trying to formulate what I felt about Lent this year. Perhaps I was trying too hard to make it mean something special, but I don’t think so. I’ve been feeling a sense that something was coming, something special. Last year I gave up a habit, but more importantly I had reflected over and over about our LORD’s sacrifice. It had been very meaningful. The year prior had also been special. What might I expect this year?

I had trouble sleeping that night (last night). I laid my clothes out on a chair in the dining room and set the alarm for 2:45. I woke up to the alarm and shut it off. I lay still for a moment, wondering if I had awakened Brenda. I sat up slowly and reached for my glasses to see the clock. It was 12:30. It wasn’t the alarm that woke me. It was a dream of the alarm going off. I smiled at myself. I used to do this to myself when my dad was letting me go with him to work. I laid back down, prayed a little bit and went back to sleep.

I woke up suddenly, fully awake. It was 2:30. I crept out of bed and turned the alarm off, a little pleased that I hadn’t awakened Brenda. I made some coffee and slipped into the shower.

T. arrived a little early. I think he was as excited about our expedition as I was.

The drive was quiet. He drove smoothly under the nearly full moon and I filled in the gaps in conversation (when I remembered to), falling into the habit/obligation of the role of a passenger as I had done 30 years ago when I was a wandering hitchhiker.

The moon has always been important to me. It was there, teaching me about perspectives and the distances of the real world when I rode with my dad before I was old enough for school. It was there when I hiked the John Muir Trail in my early adulthood. It was there when the LORD told me how much he cared for me when my first child had died. Last night it was there again, growing yellow as it glided along with us toward the west.

We found our way into the sanctuary. It was dark. There was a monk sitting not too far away from us, barely bathed in the light of a candle nearby. I watched my step carefully, I felt like I was intruding on his solitude.

As my eyes adjusted I noticed a few other monks.

A few minutes later more came in. Soft lights were switched on. Soon a steady stream of monks entered, none even glanced at us. I felt reassured that I was not intruding. Their internal focus didn’t permit it. Some had obviously just awoken. Some of the later ones did their crossing and bowing quickly, and slid into their places.

I felt warm, comfortable. It didn’t matter my brand of faith. It didn’t matter what my life. I was here, and so was the LORD. I felt the sense that something was coming, something important.

The muslims think of Christians as polytheists. That we worship three gods. Absurd or course. But still, I can see how they might get that idea. What an unusual idea, the trinity. A creator with three sides, three faces, three forms, one reality. A being able to create the universe, in all its complexities (quarks, sub-atomics, atoms, molecules, organisms, worlds, galaxies. . .) and yet so simple. Simply beautiful. As simple as the beauty of the moon.

This all powerful being, capable of anything except sin, and interested in ME. A triune God. . . .seeing through space, through time, through me. What did HE look like? Of course I can only think in terms of metaphor. Jesus looks like me. The Holy Spirit looks like a dove. God the Father looks like. . . no, not like that. Not the patriarch of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam. Not a burning bush, or a pillar of fire, or anything my mind can conceive.

(And the LORD said, "I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the LORD , in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. But," he said, "you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live.")

I felt the LORD. He is love. He cares for me. he looks like nothing I can imagine, and he looks like all the wonderful things that make my heart lift. He is the red sunrise shouting in crimson and orange and yellow. He is the intersection of the peaks along Bear Tooth Pass and the brilliant blue of a winter sky. He is the spark of wonder in an infant’s eyes.

The monks came to the end of their prayers. I was a little disappointed that it had ended so soon.

T. and I made a little small talk on the way back, small talk tinged with a little more meaning than the chat we had on the way there.

What is unique about human beings? How does our experience lend texture to our responses to God? Does it please Him to have us grow in such slow ways, in all our failings?

I looked at T.

“We are unique of all the creatures on this planet. Despite our animal natures we have something in us that is also divine. You never see a dog enjoying a rainbow.”

“That’ll preach,” he said.

"What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! ". --Hamlet: Act II, Scene II

Thank you LORD for how you have made me. I am wondrously made. Please forgive my pride for the gifts You have bestowed and teach me to always be Your servant.


Post script: It turns out that it was a very interesting year after all (see previous posts). I believe that the feeling I had for earnest prayer was a subtle encouragement for me to prepare my heart for what was coming. If you have any questions regarding any of the ideas here, please feel free to ask away. I am your servant as well.

Parenting Teens

His sons used to take turns holding feasts in their homes, and they would invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them. When a period of feasting had run its course, Job would send and have them purified. Early in the morning he would sacrifice a burnt offering for each of them, thinking, "Perhaps my children have sinned and cursed God in their hearts." This was Job's regular custom. --Job 1:4-6

Next week both of my children will be in high school. It’s a major shift in parenting. While the older boy has a mental outlook that makes him think as a young child, the next boy has been steadily stretching himself toward the world outside our home.

Gone are the big-eyed tikes who saw me as king and hero. And just as puberty has made them different persons, their maturing is changing me as well.

In the past few weeks, especially with Isaac, I have had to start doing different things with them. I had to practically drag him off on a family road trip. He would have preferred to hang around town on the off chance he might run into friends at the county fair. He enjoyed the trip, but it took my best persuasive techniques.

Just before that I taught him and his brother how to shave. That was pretty cool. They have their own razors, and have learned the rituals of hot water, razor angle and direction, and the benefits of aftershave.

Yesterday I took Isaac out and we had THE TALK. It went pretty well. In fact, as we headed off to pick up Mom’s birthday present he said “I’m glad we had that talk, Dad. Let’s do it again.”

Last night I taught them how to play poker, emphasizing the dangers in the game. I think they got the message because this morning J. said “Let’s buy chips to play that game. I don’t think money is good ‘cause we might end up playing with cameras and cell phones and cars and stuff.” Right on dude!

But the real change for me isn’t the need to talk about girls, and marriage, and sex, and responsibilities. The real challenge is to explain how God fits into all of this. The Sunday School classes they have attended only took them so far. The example I set in prayer and reading scripture only set up a foundation. Even their professions of faith that led them to the baptistry in that now burned out sanctuary was just a step. My duty now is to pull the disparate elements of their encounters with faith into something that will sustain them. They need to see how it fits together. That is one of my final stages in parenting.

They need to know how to love and be loved. They need to see that unconditional love isn’t just that I loved them before we even met. That I love them now and forever, and I will not relinquish my adoption of them no matter what they might do.

(Side note: it was suggested that we might let J. go after what he did at our church. That indicates two things. 1. Some people do not understand how deep love is and that biology is not the only way to have your own children. 2. Some people do not understand what unconditional love means. I pity their small hearts. How will they ever come to know our LORD?)

They must learn that they are lovable for them to truly love. If they are to have a mate that will love them fully, they must realize that it is possible for someone to love them and not leave for another, not cheat on them. I suspect that infidelity comes out of the fear of not being lovable. That we suspect that we are not going to be loved and we seek to either pre-empt the hurt we feel is coming, or seek reassurance of our worth from at least one more person (who is probably doing the same lonely thing).

There is one more thing I need to stay steady in this last phase of my parenting. I need to take my relationships regularly to my king. I need to seek His advice as we go into these teen years so He may guide me. Like Job, I need to intercede for my children, and I must do it regularly, seriously, fervently.

For those who do not have this relationship, I offer again all that I have to help you find Him. Leave your email address in a comment and I will contact you so we can chat. We can delete it so you do not get unwanted spam.

May you all keep your eyes on the shepherd’s heels. They are leading us to a place of peace. God bless. I love you.

Joy

"The LORD blessed the latter part of Job's life more than the first." --Job 42:12


I am so grateful! I can’t fully explain how I feel. The LORD is pouring a steady stream of blessings into my life. I am completely in awe of Him. Thank you LORD!

First, I should explain that life has not been easy lately. I’m not saying that I’m going through times as tough as Job's, but it hasn't been easy. Here is a synopsis just to get you up to speed:

Thirteen years ago, after much struggle with infertility issues, my wife and I decided to adopt. That story is filled with miracles, and wonders, and pain. The refinancing of our home to pay for the adoption, the intrusive home visits, the lawyers, the counseling, and the caring for the birth mother led us to our first child, born on my wife’s birthday. The joy of that child was magnified by the generosity of our church family. And that same wonderful group of people were the source of great solace when he died of SIDS three and a half months later.

His death was a watershed event in my life. A very dark year passed where suicide frequently seemed a viable option. But I grew. (Thank you LORD.)

Eleven years ago, after much struggle with grief, my wife and I decided to adopt again. That story is filled with miracles, and wonders, and pain. The refinancing of our home to pay for the adoption, the intrusive home visits, the lawyers, the counseling, and the trip to Florida led us to our next two children, born and orphaned in Haiti, and brought into this country on medical visas the day after our first child died. The joy of those children was magnified by the generosity of our church family. And that same wonderful group of people were the source of great solace when one of them, playing with a candle, burned a large portion of that church down.

This fire has been another watershed moment in my life. It almost seemed that there were forces at work that were trying to drive me from the church. I continually felt inadequate to lead a Sunday school class. (The whispers seemed to say: Who are you to be here? You should be ashamed. It was your child who hurt these people, why should they have to put up with you anymore? At least you should be sitting quietly in the back somewhere. . .)

I had various physical ailments. I tore the muscles in my lower back. My psoriasis flared up and the skin on my fingers split so badly it hurt just to turn the pages of a book. Rashes appeared on my scalp, toes, ankles, the backs of my hands. My hair started falling out.

My wife and I had difficulty in avoiding arguments. She was having so much trouble loving this child who had done so much harm (there were several people who barely escaped the explosive inferno which literally threw our pastor out of the building).

The D.A. had to decide if he needed to try our son as an adult for arson, which could have included an attempted homicide charge as there were people in the building. We had to get our boy into counseling and agree to a 24-7 watch for him.

Our other son became severely depressed and we seek ways to get his feet on firm ground.

But the LORD is pouring a steady stream of blessings into my life. I am in awe of Him.

Since these events (and others, some of which I have shared in previous postings) the LORD has been faithful. No, He has been more than that. He has been working to make huge changes in my life and those around us.

Our church will be rebuilt, and the new building will better serve the needs of our community and our congregation. Prayer has become much more important to many, especially me.

I have felt confident stepping out in faith. I know that there is evil in the world. It seeks to harm me. (It seeks to harm you as well.) But if God is with me, who can be against me?

I’m a little kid is standing up to a school yard bully, knowing full well that my big brother is standing right behind me. I look at my adversary and I'm saying: "Bring it on!" And my big brother, with His arms calmly folded and wearing that thorny crown, flashes His eyes in warning: “Don’t try it”.

Let me share something with you, dear reader.

We just returned from a road trip, a get away. And here are two of the many things I saw that I want you to consider.

We traveled all the way down the Oregon coast and found ourselves in the Redwood National Forest in northern California. There are trees there. They are real trees. Not those we usually see, but trees that stand higher than any other. Hundreds of feet tall (up to 367 feet!) and can live 2,000 years. Imagine walking beneath a tree and looking up at its lowest branches which are over a hundred feet up! The trunks are over twenty feet wide. The moss, and ferns, and shrubs that carpet the floor of the forest seem perfect for kneeling. The birds that glide through the air beneath these boughs seem like motes of dust in a great cathedral. The burls on the sides of these trees can be over a dozen feet wide! This place cannot be described without superlatives. If I tried to fully describe this enchanted place you would think me spewing hyperbole's, not reality.

A nonbeliever may dismiss the wonder of such a place, but only by disregarding the joy that dances in one’s heart when confronted with true beauty.

We also traveled east and saw Crater Lake. When one approaches the lip of the caldera, the eye drops down a sheer drop of 1,000 feet to an astounding sight. The color of the water redefines the word blue. Because the water is so pure, so clear, the properties of the water molecule cleanly eliminate all but the truest portion of that exquisite color. The lake is the deepest in the United States (over 1,900 feet) and shines like a sapphire. The vision is so pure that one gasps and feels a sense of wonder not felt since they were a small child.

A nonbeliever may dismiss the wonder of such a place, but only by disregarding the faith that dances in one’s heart when confronted by the works of an almighty creator who gave human beings the ability to enjoy beauty.

Those two places are concrete expressions of something that has been growing in my heart this summer. My wife and I have rediscovered the joys of praying together each night. I have rediscovered my duty in teaching my children to pray and sharing the truths of God’s world with them. I have fallen in love with reading the Bible and prayer. And let me share with you my friend, it is all VERY GOOD!

I feel like singing and dancing. Yes, I know it doesn’t make any sense. Things are all screwed up. But I am a part of His flock. He is my shepherd. I am honored to follow Him wherever He leads. Sometimes the path is rocky, but I trust him. He will lead me beside still waters.

My friend, I cannot express how I feel. But if you have never felt like this, and you wish to contact me and discuss this privately, please feel free to leave your email address in the comment section of this posting. I check this blog frequently and I will respond as quickly as possible. If you wish, we can delete it later so others don’t start spamming you.

God bless. God bless you and your family. May you feel Him walking beside you all the days of your life.