Just This Once

I've become pretty good at keeping my mouth shut when it comes to politics. All of the arguments and vicious attacks on social media do nothing but add to the discontent and frustration many of us already feel. I am unapologetically Christian, and I believe that respect for authority is paramount to my faith. Romans 13:1 commands us, "Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God." To outwardly rebel against what God has established is to rebel against God.

For the past eight years, I have prayed for President Obama and his family. I have written him to encourage him, and I have written when I disagreed. Respecting authority does not mean that any of us are forced to agree with a leader who defies God's laws and mandates. It simply means we respect the office and the man or woman in that office through prayer and positive words. Negativity only serves to deepen the chasm that exists in our country. 

I am writing these words on Mr. Obama's last day in office. Tomorrow, we will inaugurate Donald Trump as our new President. With that in mind, I offer my thoughts about the recent past and future of our country.

I am deeply disappointed in President Obama's administration. He has outwardly and proudly defied God's standards regarding the sanctity of human life and of marriage. His administration has sought to literally force Christians to change the very moral standards by which we choose to live, under the guise of "equality" and "freedom." His tepid responses to police shootings served to add to, rather than heal the racial divide in this country. Despite my disappointments and frustrations, I have prayed weekly, and led my church in praying for God's guidance on his life, and protection for his family. Why? Because at the end of the day, I want my government to serve the people according to the righteousness of our Creator who has blessed our nation for so many years. 

And now, Donald Trump becomes our new President. I did not vote for him, nor did I vote for Mrs. Rodham-Clinton.  As one of my missionary friends put it, "I'm relieved that Hilary didn't win, but I'm scared because Trump did."  Again, I will pray for the administration. I am pleased that Mr. Trump has chosen a seemingly devoted Christian man as our next Vice-President. I hope and pray that he will make Godly choices for his cabinet, and Supreme Court Justices. But I also hope that Christians don't continue to give him an automatic pass on the garbage he has spewed,  just because he's not Hilary. If a Democrat were taking office tomorrow, and had pulled even half the shenanigans that Mr. Trump has pulled during his campaign, you can be assured that the conservative right would be up in arms. Putting blinders on and accepting continued childish behavior does not serve to advance the gospel message we profess to love. It's nothing short of hypocritical to turn a blind eye and simply accept clown-like foolishness from a world leader because he represents the supposed favored political affiliation of Christ followers. Let's respect the office, but let's not support what displeases God.

And so I will join others in praying for President Trump, his family, Congress, state, county, and local government. And during his tenure, I would hope that all Americans join in supporting him through prayer, even through disagreements over policies and decisions he makes. Ultimately, we all want to see a successful and thriving United States of America. Division, arguments, loud protests and complaining will only serve to accomplish what they have in the past - absolutely nothing. 

Because Decency Matters

I've been staring at a blank screen for quite some time, trying to come up with words sufficient enough to express how dumbfounded I am. I've seen a lot of weird things in my day that I've been at a loss to explain: Pet Rocks, Leisure Suits, 8 track tapes, Dennis Rodman...

Okay, we can chalk those things up to temporary insanity. But the latest movement (pardon the pun) making its way into our schools, our fitness centers and businesses is the moral equivalent of Sodom and Gomorrah. I could even argue that it's worse, because it's being forced upon all of us. If it continues unchecked, none of us will have a choice. Someone riddle me this: When did it become a good idea to allow boys and girls, men and women to use whatever bathroom or shower they choose depending on what they "feel" like? In other words, whatever happened to common decency?

Here's the problem, for those who, for whatever reason cannot see the problem inherent in this. Let me spell it out for you. BOYS and GIRLS are different. And they have a right to keep their bodies PRIVATE.

It was the rite of passage that many junior high students dreaded, and I imagine many still do. Gym class. That uncomfortable hour of the day when you find yourself dressing and showering with the students you just studied geometry and science with. It's difficult enough with members of the same gender. Imagine the chaos that's likely to unfold when raging teenage hormones get together in the shower and dressing room!

Let me put it another way. I made a marriage vow to my wife. My vow means I only have eyes for her. Therefore, I have the right to not be exposed to an undressed member of the opposite sex whether I'm in the bathroom, changing room, or anywhere else. Does my right to purity enter into play, here? We chastise women for for dressing scantily and enticing men, and we chastise men for viewing pornography and seeing women as objects. Is there a difference, here? Sorry, but if God granted you certain plumbing, it doesn't matter how you "feel." It's indecent and its wrong to expose that body to a member of the opposite sex.

This isn't a rant against the LGBT Community, although I understand how many feel that it falls within that debate. That's a discussion for another place. This is about ALL of us, especially our vulnerable children, and our right not to be sexually intimidated or unwillingly enticed in a public place. It is about decency. Let's pray that in America, decency still matters. 

Well, Looky Here!

He's back. Yep, I'm back again after a very long, unexpected break from blogging. Unexpected because, for whatever reason, I couldn't log in. My password hasn't worked for.... well, however long I've been away. Then one day, poof! It was working again. Same username... same password. I don't ask questions, I'm just here. Technology and I have never been the best of friends. 

And so it begins... again. I've been reading over some of my past ramblings and quite frankly, I say "quite frankly" a lot. Other than that, not much has changed. I'm still battling the weight demon, still dealing with insecurities, criticisms, and the like... and waiting for God to make a move on some major prayers. And waiting, and waiting...

And trusting. Always trusting that He knows what He's doing.

And so here I am. Same ol' "Just Me," perhaps a little wiser, certainly a little older, and by the grace of God, a whole lot slimmer, soon. 

On that, I'm not willing to wait. 

Yeah, One of Those, Too.

Lose weight. Be a better person. Read through the Bible in a year. Visit old friends. Learn to cook. Learn to play the piano. Yadda, yadda, yadda. 

I'm tired of New Year's Resolutions. They. Don't. Work. Ever. That's why for 2014, I'm committing to getting a revelation, instead. A revelation directly from God.  Here's the difference: A resolution generally means that we rely on ourselves; our own strength to make some sort of change in our lives that we've been unable to make before. So we resolve, with good intentions, that this will finally be the year we make the change for the better.

Hogwash. The fact is, we can't do it on our own because we're not designed that way. We were created for intimate communion with, and worship of Jehovah God. Scripture is abundantly clear on this point: When we are weak, God is strong. It is our dependence on Him that gives us the strength to overcome our sins, our addictions, and our bad habits. The apostle Paul got a revelation direct from God: But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (II Corinthians 12:9).

I'm guilty. I'm guilty of resolving to do better. I'm guilty of repeatedly banging my head against the wall in frustration, because I can't get a hold of that thing that keeps me from being all I can be in Christ Jesus. So I'm giving up. I'm surrendering to God. I'm going to spend the next 365 days going after a revelation from heaven.

And I pray that my revelation leads to a revolution.

Big "Buts"

I've learned never to give up easily when it comes to my faith, because God is a whole lot smarter than I am. Many times over, He has proven to me that He has a plan I know nothing about. He'll take me right to the edge, right to the limit of my patience and understanding, and then pour it on in such a way that I wonder how I ever could have doubted.

Now. Some may disagree with my theology, but I really don't care. I'm all about being honest with God. I don't mind telling Him when I'm frustrated, when my faith is lacking, or when I'm just angry that I've been praying for two years and nothing seems to be happening while everyone around me gets blessed. Here's why: I've read the Psalms. All 150 of them. Repeatedly, the Psalmists (especially David) pour their hearts out to God. They give Him all of their frustrations, their worries, and their fears. But in nearly every instance, they follow up with a three letter word:  "But."  But God, I trust in you. But God, you know better than me. But God, you are on the throne! Some might call it a lack of faith. I call it honesty. Those questions are recorded in God's Word for a reason.

So yeah, I'm frustrated. For two years I've been praying for my hip to be healed. I've approached the big guns... some of the most respected and well known preachers and leaders in our "denomination" have prayed over me. They have prophesied healing. They have seen me running. They have envisioned the cartilage growing back in place so I have no more pain. They have stood with me. Men of faith. Spiritual giants. And still... the doctor says my hip is "awful." A-W-F-U-L. Did you hear that, God? It's awful! What about the prayers? What about the faith? What about the prophecies, God? What about the "sinner" you healed through the same hands that were laid on me? Why him and not me, your servant? Yeah, God... I'm frustrated, I'm a little angry, and I'm very confused! Yes, I have a doctor's appointment next month. Yes, we're going to talk about a hip replacement. Is it your desire to have them slice my leg open and permanently install a piece of steel inside of me that will cost thousands of dollars? Or is it your desire to heal miraculously? It's been two years God. Where's the miracle?

But God.....

But God. I'm not giving up. But God, I trust Your way is perfect. But God, I know you have a plan. But God... I will trust. I will give you my frustration. I will fast, I will study your word, and I will pray. I will not try to manipulate you God, but instead I will conform to Your divine will.

I don't get it right now, God. I really don't. BUT... I look forward to the day when it all makes sense. That's the day I'll get off my lazy "but" and stop doubting in the first place.

25 or 6 to 4

I'm not sure why the old Chicago tune, "25 or 6 to 4" is running through my muddled head, but it somehow seems appropriate today. It's one of those songs that doesn't make sense until you hear the story behind it. Someone in the band asked what time it was, and another person answered, "25 or 6 to 4," literally meaning about 25 or 26 minutes until 4 o'clock. Oh, now we get it!

The past month has been a mixed bag of emotions, and most days I don't know if I'm coming or going, happy or sad, contented or discontented, doing the right thing or somewhat out of God's will. Trying to sort out what I'm feeling and why is, well, kind of like trying to figure out that song. Pretty soon the light's going to come on, and it's all going to make sense. It's the waiting that drives me nuts.

I don't know whether or not I regret recent decisions I've had to make. I see things working out for the better, and I should be happy, but instead I'm feeling miserable and alone. I know the right thing to do is seek God, read His word, pray about it, and have a support team I can talk to. Yet I find myself being less than forthright and honest, because I know how it would sound... like I don't have it all together. And I don't.

I've spent my life dedicated to servanthood. I preach it all the time. We're not here for ourselves; I believe we're here to honor God, serve Him, and love others. The rest will take care of itself. But that's the problem. I wasn't made just to love others. I was made to be loved as well. Truth be told, I feel as if I'm doing all the giving, and my "love tank" is running on empty. That feels and sounds totally selfish, and it probably is. I also feel like the one strongest desire of my heart, to be a good father and mentor is the one area where I've screwed up the most. If I can't even get that right, then how can I expect to be loved in return?

It's time to turn the station and get "25 or 6 to 4" out of my head. I need a new song. I'm just afraid the next station will be playing "American Pie." Talk about confusing.

The Preacher in the Green Shirt

Pardon me while I ramble.

This morning before church started, a dear lady commented, "Not that I'm counting or anything, but do we need to take up a collection to buy you some new shirts? That's the third Sunday in a row you've worn that same green shirt!"  REALLY??!!?? Okay, so I like green. I think from now on I'm going to wear a different green shirt every Sunday morning, kind of in the same manner that Bill Cosby wore a different ugly sweater every week on The Cosby Show. My neighbor Sandy used to wear two different color shoes to work at her restaurant. Hey, it could be a great gimmick to increase attendance and win more people to Christ. People came from miles around to hear John the Baptist preach in camel hair. Whatever it takes, ya know?

But what's really on my mind as I wrap up a very long and very rewarding day in ministry is this: Love. God is love, and He makes it very easy to love what He calls us to do for Him. Today was baptism Sunday, and what a joy it is to baptize the young and old alike. We went out to the lake on a picture-perfect Sunday afternoon to baptize seven, and ended up baptizing eight. A lady who recently lost her husband of 45 years saw what was going on and came right on out into the water asking to be baptized. What a privilege to pray for and comfort her with Christ's love. There's just no greater feeling than loving on people like Jesus taught us.

The other reason that love is on my mind: My daughter. Shelby came to live with us almost 10 months ago. I first met her in my youth group when she was 11. We're not blood related, but she's been like a daughter to us for years. We opened our arms and our homes to her to give her a more stable environment. But quite honestly, it took us ten months to get it right. I had a huge learning curve, and probably wasn't the best "Dad" I could be. But this week... well, I won't go into the details. But let me urge you parents: When you honestly open up the lines of communication with your kids and let God be involved in guiding the conversation, some amazing things happen. Give your kids some credit. They're probably smarter than you realize. There's not a court order or anything "legal" that says I'm Shelby's Dad. But I have it in writing... from her. She's my daughter. So now I have two wonderful kids who both teach me daily about life in very, very different ways. They both make my heart full. I love them both unconditionally, and with all the love my heart can muster.

God is just good like that. He's an awesome God. I have a beautiful wife I adore (26 years in October and counting!), two great kids, the best church family a Pastor could ever ask for, and a dog that... well, I have a dog. :) 

Now. Where can I find a sale on green shirts?

The New Love Chapter

With my sincere apologies to the apostle Paul, I have come up with the 21st century antithesis of 1st
Corinthians 13, the great "love chapter" of the Bible. Just to clarify: God's Word has never changed, and never will. My purpose here is to present a wake-up call to us all. Love takes hard work, sacrifice and prayer, along with some serious blood, sweat and tears. It was never meant to be a cake-walk. And it was certainly never meant to be "all about me." Jesus said to love others first, not self. Read on if you dare... and if you feel a conviction in your heart, please take time to crack open a Bible afterward and read what God really has to say.

Then live it. 

The New Love Chapter

Love is selfish, love is me-first. It wants what others have, it constantly speaks only of itself, never considering the thoughts, welfare, or feelings of others. It shows no compassion for others and doesn't share a thing, but rather puts all the focus on itself. Love gets angry easily and posts all its frustrations on Facebook and Twitter. It keeps a running tally of supposed injuries to its pride and vanity. It applauds when it gets revenge, and doesn't let the truth get in the way of a good bout with self-pity. It never protects or trusts anybody, sees the glass as constantly half-empty and gives up at the first chance it gets. 

Love talks about itself and its family as a failure, because that's how it draws attention to itself. But when God wants to speak, it shuts Him out. Where He wants to give vision, love closes its eyes. When God wants to help, love says "I can do this on my own." Love thinks that it knows it all, but truth will one day present a different reality. For now, love is on a mission to prove that it alone is right, and everyone is out to get it. The compassionate correction, opinions or requests of others are dismissed in the twinkling of an eye. But one day, love will learn how wrong it has been. By then, it will be too late. Love will lose all it could have had simply by opening its cold heart to truth. 

Now only two remain: Faith and hope. And love has given up on both. 

-Tim LaVere

The Big Picture

In the aftermath of the September 11, 2001 attack on America, the official response read into the Congressional record included a quote from scripture - "“The bricks have fallen down, but we will rebuild with dressed stone;the fig trees have been felled, but we will replace them with cedars.” (Isaiah 9:10. NIV). Our leaders, with the best of intentions, unwittingly pronounced judgment on America. Had they studied the scripture in context (or even read one preceeding verse), they would have realized that the scripture was an ancient vow of defiance in the face of God's warning. Instead of repenting and turning to God, Israel swore they could rebuild and become stronger by their own strength. 9/11 was a wake-up call to America that brought about very little long-lasting Christian revival.

On Friday, I was encouraged to hear our President quote from the Bible in his response to the senseless school massacre in Connecticut. The Lord, he said, will heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds. It's a direct quote from both Isaiah 61:1-2, and Psalms 147:3.  Readers, I encourage you strongly to read these entire chapters in context. I believe that through the words spoken by the leader of our country, God is presenting us with a strong and encouraging message.

Psalms 147 is a song of praise to God, who led Israel out of exile and back to their homeland. The words lovingly demonstrate how faithful and good our Lord is to a nation that honors and reveres His name, His commands, and His words. 

His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of the warrior; the Lord delights in those who fear him; who put their hope in his unfailing love. (v. 10-11)

What is God saying? He doesn't care how strong we think we are, the might of our military, how many gun laws we put in place, or how many locks we put on our doors. He wants our nation's obedience. What is the result of a nation that fears God?

He grants peace to your borders and satisfies you with the finest of wheat (v. 14).

Similarly, Isaiah 61 promises hope for a nation that follows Jehovah God!

They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations. (v. 4)

Why does God allow violence and bloodshed? I daresay we allowed it, America. We have created a culture of hatred, violence, greed, selfishness and immorality. We have turned our collective backs on God. We have called "good" what He calls "sin." We are thumbing our noses at His word. We preach a snowy white feel good seeker-friendly message to build our mega-churches, and rob God's people of the truth they need to hear. All the while, God cries right with us in our own self-inflicted pain and suffering. 

“For I, the Lord, love justice; I hate robbery and wrongdoing." (v. 6)

I often shake my head at the news on television. I sigh heavily, and go back to my business. But this time, I cried. I cried for the children, for the parents, for the community of Newtown, and for America. I prayed, but hardly knew what to say except, "Lord, comfort the familes. And please, forgive our nation."

I hope and pray that President Obama's words bring comfort to America. But I also pray fervently that we all get the big picture... the entire message God would have us hear. Turn away from sin. Turn to God.  He loves us enough to give us the encouragement we need. 

Let's take the hint.

Eleven Eleven

I remember.
I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news about the World Trade Center attacks in New York City on September 11, 2001. The odd thing is, it took some time before I understood what was really unfolding.
I was working at a radio station in Gladwin, Michigan. I had been hired in as a reporter, but the station was slowly weaning that responsibility from me as they shifted their emphasis away from local news. Just before our national news break at the top of the hour, I got a phone call from one of our salespeople. She told me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. My reaction was, "Oh, wow."  That's it. Just, "Oh, wow." In my mind, I was thinking of a small two passenger airplane that got off course... certainly not a jet. I thanked her, and made a quick mention of it leading up to the newscast.
We had no television at the radio station, and that first national broadcast didn't provide a lot of detail. We continued playing country music after the news break, updating weather, announcing songs as normal. Then I got the second call. Another plane had crashed into the towers. This time I remember clearly saying, "Oh... this is no accident!"
The rest of the morning, I felt hopeless. Just hopeless. We turned our programming over to the network for wall-to-wall coverage. We interviewed a local Pastor to have him pray on the air for our country. My reporter's "nose for news" began searching for any local angle. I called one of our legislators in Lansing to see what precautions, if any, were being taken at the State Capitol. His aide called later to say they were shutting down the building.
Then... a plane struck the Pentagon. Another went down in Pennsylvania. That's when I got scared. When would it stop? How far would this go? Were any of us safe? It was obvious that we were at war. Osama Bin Laden had already set off one explosive at the WTC years earlier. He was #1 on the FBI's Most Wanted List. I had no doubt he was behind this attack as well.
It wasn't until mid-afternoon when I arrived home that I was actually able to turn on a television and see what was happening. I couldn't watch, yet couldn't look away. How could this be happening in our country?
The following Sunday, I became a statistic. I joined with millions of others who hadn't set foot in a church for months or even years. I prayed. I called out to God.
Then I forgot about Him.
Yet a seed was planted in my life that week. God began to turn up the volume and draw me back to Him. Not to organized religion... but to Him. It would take another eight months, but eventually I found a new church family, re-dedicated my life to Christ, and began a new chapter that would lead to my becoming a Pastor.
On September 11, 2011, the tenth anniversary of the attacks, our church honored and celebrated our fallen heroes, our government, and local police officers in our Sunday services. Two of our township officers were in the service, and received a standing ovation. It was my proudest moment to date as a minister.
Romans 8:28 promises that all things work for the good for those who love the Lord, and are called according to His purposes. That has certainly been true of the 911 story in my life. Today, I honor the heroes who fought and died that day, by dedicating my life fully, 100% to God.
By doing so, I'm better equipped to serve others to the best of my ability, and snatch the lost from the fire.

I Am Second

I don't know when I've been more jazzed about preaching. Beginning Labor Day Weekend, and for six consecutive sermons, I'll be sharing the message, "I Am Second." It all started when one of my board members sent me a video testimony from Clayton Kershaw of the LA Dodgers. In it, he talked of his relationship with Jesus Christ, and how nothing is more important than putting his Savior first. Turns out "I Am Second" is an entire movement, and their web site features dozens of amazing testimonies. I picked up the "I Am Second" book and blasted right through it. Before I was even halfway through, I knew that this message needed to be shared with the church.

It's raw. It's gritty. It's life changing. This series of messages will pull no punches. It will offend, it will inspire, and it will be unlike anything I've preached before. I feel God's hand in this already as He gives vision, ideas, and illustrations. And I haven't even written a word of the first sermon.

So what's the big deal? Here it is: Jesus died for me. For me! I can't think of a more humiliating, slow, and excruciatingly  painful way to die than having spikes driven through your hands and feet, bleeding profusely and gasping for the smallest breath while on display for people to laugh and mock.  Jesus took all this after he was beaten and scourged to within an inch of his life. For me! Why? Because he loved me, even when I didn't love Him. That's the part I can't wrap my mind around. I was an enemy of Christ, living for myself, living in the world, and ignoring Him. I stayed home on Sundays. I was deep in sin. I knew for years what Christ had done for me, but lived for myself. I didn't even give Him an hour of my time on His day. The only time I prayed was when I needed something. Can you imagine? Like He hasn't done enough for me already by dying for me when I was literally his ENEMY????

How can I put myself first when Jesus did all that for me? How dare I put anything - ANYTHING above my relationship with Him? This is about more than coming to church. It's about honor.

I Am Second. And that's a good place to be. 

I Don't Miss My Addiction

It's been more than 3 weeks since I swore off Facebook. I've only been on to check the church site, and once changed my profile picture to support Chik-Fil-A Appreciation Day. Other than that, I've kept to my vow to remain Facebook free for 30 days, and then decide where to go from there.

No need to wait. I've made up my mind. In the last 23 days I have:

-Slept better
-Read two books
-Finished my work early
-Spent more time with my son
-Lost 7 pounds
-Endured less stress about trivial matters
-Felt no need to let the whole online world know I just had a pancake for breakfast

I once had a dentist tell me that if you can get used to flossing for two straight weeks, you will make it a habit. I suppose that's true for just about anything you want to accomplish. Being without Facebook for over three weeks has been an absolute joy. No doubt, the first week or so was tough, but looking back now I can hardly believe how much time I was wasting and mental energy I was expending. I was truly trapped, and that's a very hard thing to admit. 

So I'm done with Facebook. And it feels good. God has taught me that I can accomplish a lot more on my knees talking to Him than arguing with the world from a keyboard.

The world will just have to assume I'm having pancakes for breakfast. And they're probably right.

I'm Feeling MUCH Better, Now

Day four (or 3 and a half) of my Facebook fast, and I must admit... I'm already feeling better. I had no idea the extent of the negative toll it was taking on me.

The timing has been really amazing, because in our church's New Testament reading schedule, we're currently going through Paul's letters to Timothy. Young Timothy was a preacher, Paul's protoge, and a man who was prone to stomach problems and discouragement.

Hello.

I've read I and II Timothy many times before, but never under the kind of stress I've been enduring lately. I've never read it when my heart has been so broken for friends, family and acquaintances who are caught up in the worldly deceptions of the last days. So when I re-read II Timothy Chapter 2 this afternoon, the words hit me square between the eyes. Paul knew Timothy's heart for people, and instructed him how to handle the persecution and stress that he was under.

Don’t have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. And the Lord’s servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth, and that they will come to their senses and escape from the trap of the devil, who has taken them captive to do his will.  (II Timothy 2:23-26).


That's exactly why I've taken an extended break from social networking. I'm tired of the arguments, quarreling, and misunderstandings. I can look back and honestly say I've done my level best to respond in truth and love whenever I've been questioned about trying to live up to God's standards. The world is becoming less God-like and more evil every day. I'm not perfect, and I don't pretend to be. But I do my best to read God's word and follow His commands. What breaks me up is this: I watched two teenage girls on the Anderson Cooper show proclaim their love for God, their respect for their parents, and repeat their written vows to remain sexually pure until marriage. Cooper and his audience took them downtown for making such a horrible vow! Saving themselves for marriage? Who do they think they are? A short time later, the media celebrated Mr. Cooper's announcement that he believes he's a homosexual. 

But God forbid that I should pray for Mr. Cooper, because that makes me a judgmental hater. God forbid that I should stand up for morality in any form, because it might make people feel bad. God forbid that we should simply repeat the words of our Creator. 

So as it turns out, I've done exactly as Paul prescribed. Do my best to be kind, pray daily that I don't resent those who oppose me, and pray that God will show my friends His truth through His word. It was the last part of the verse though, that really struck me... hard. The devil has taken them captive to do his will.


They're drowning, and don't even know it. God wants to throw them a lifeline, but they refuse to accept it. That's what hurts the most. 


Fasting and praying can change hearts. Arguing on a social networking site... not so much. 

Why I'm Leaving Facebook

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." - Philippians 4:8


I've had enough.


There comes a point when you just have to walk away, and that time has come. I'm walking away from Facebook and all of its drama, lies, misunderstandings and time-wasting activities. As much as I have enjoyed meeting up and keeping in touch with old friends, making new ones and even touching base with famous celebrities, I've found myself more frustrated and increasingly angry with what I see.


I've come to believe that as useful as social networking is, it has become twice as dangerous. Ideas are exchanged, half-truths and outright lies are wrapped up in cute little packages and circulated around the globe, and we've become a people that turn to the opinions of people we hardly know to shape our sense of truth and morality. God is lost in the mix. The new morality has become, "Truth can be whatever makes me happy. So your truth can be yours, and mine is mine." There's no more black and white. The line between right and wrong has become more than muddled... it has been erased.


I'd like to believe the best of people, but too many of us are putting everything out there for the world to see. Quite frankly, there are things I'd just rather not know. I've made friends and lost them because of the power of a few words tapped out on a keyboard. We have forgotten how to communicate. Try to share a truth with love and respect, and you're likely to be called every name in the book... and then some. Oh, it's so much easier to criticize when you don't have to look someone in the eye. Trouble is, that sort of behavior gets into your heart and becomes a part of you. And I don't like what Facebook is doing to me.


Facebook is making me sad. Just sad. It has left me lonely, hurt, and in physical pain as I see just how far we've fallen as a people. You may think I'm taking this thing too far... but I love God and I love His people with all my heart. And to see what's being said, posted, told and believed in cyberspace is breaking my heart every time I log on.


For the next 30 days, I won't be on Facebook, other than to update the church FB page and events pages. It's my hope that a 30 day Facebook fast will lead to a permanent one. We'll see. If God so chooses, He can heal my heart and strengthen me to the point that I can return. But right now, anything that hinders my relationship with Him has got to go. Facebook is number one on that list. 


 

Here We Go... Again

Bible scholars might recall the story of the woman with the issue of blood. She had been sick for years, and Mark 5:26 tells us, "She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse."

Wow... can I relate.

It all started with an infected front tooth I chipped when I was a kid. As an adult, it turned brown and died. I had a root canal done several years ago, and spent weeks having it bleached white from the inside out. For about two years, it was okay... then began to shift. It left a gap that would make T.D. Jakes jealous. So, after visiting the dentist in November of 2010, they recommended I have it pulled 70 miles away in Gaylord, and replaced with a permanent implant. So that's what I did. Well, I had it pulled anyway.

Three months after having the tooth pulled, I traveled 70 miles back to Gaylord to have the metal screw drilled in my mouth that would hold the implant in place. "Oh no," I was told. "We're just checking today to make sure we can go ahead." So they checked. Yep, all set. But they wouldn't have another appointment until May. So, a three month delay. In May, after another 140-mile round trip, they put in the screw, which would have to heal for three months before I could have the new tooth. Okay, so... we're looking at August. 8 months with no tooth. Frustrating.

July came along, and I kept feeling something funky in my mouth. I got curious enough to look, only to discover that the screw was sticking out of my gums. Lovely. I called Gaylord. Another trip. "Yep, that's a problem. Come back and we'll take it out." So, another long trip a few days later. Now we're back to ground zero. Another three month wait before they can put the screw back in. Now... we're looking at October for the new implant, and likely January before the new tooth.

October comes around. "Looks good," the dentist said after I drove another 70 miles to see him. "Let's give it another month." November. Marathon Gas station erects a statue in my name. The Dr. puts the new screw in. "I'll see you February 14th to check it, and then your dentist will put the new tooth in." Valentine's Day, another trip to Gaylord, another 3 minute appointment, and he tells me that in two weeks, the dentist at home can put the tooth in. So, I call the dentist at home. They'll call me in a couple weeks. Two weeks go by. A month. Six weeks. Finally, after two months, I call. "Oh, you're ready now? Good!  We're glad you called."

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????????????????

Oh, but they weren't ready to put the tooth in. Nope. First they have to clear some of the gum away that's grown around the new screw because we've waited so long.  Bite lip, bite lip.  They freeze me up, and begin to unscrew the healing cap....

"Did your dentist in Gaylord have to do this over? I don't have a tool that will fit this. We'll have to reschedule." Yep. The dentist's office didn't listen to me, or check the notes they had in their hands from the dentist in Gaylord. So... another two weeks to wait until the tool comes in. Two weeks go by, I'm back in the chair again for impressions. Yep, we got 'em. See you in 30 days for the implant.

Four days later.  The phone rings. They want to do the impressions over. I won't tell you what I thought, because unfortunately, it wasn't very Christian of me. I'm scheduled for the new tooth, once and for all, on May 30th, 17 months after the tooth was pulled.

Anybody want to bet it doesn't fit?

Oh... and here's the best part. In the midst of all this, my hip started burning like fire. I went to the doctor, they took x-rays (which they showed me) that indicated arthritis. There's no cartilage in my right hip. I'm walking bone on bone. Off to the Orthopedic Surgeon, who somehow saw cartilage that wasn't there, gave me a shot of Cortisone, and sent me on my merry way. A month later, still in pain, he prescribed 6 weeks of physical therapy. Well, 6 weeks turned into 12 with another Cortisone shot because of course... the cartilage that isn't there that the doctor says is there isn't feeling better like he says it should. So, after yet another shot of Cortisone,  he referred me to a back doctor. For my hip.

I'm asking for a referral for a headache doctor. I'm getting very sore from banging my head against this brick wall.

"No Dad... The Other Fries!!"

I'm raising a very challenging 15-year old. I know that's not unusual, since all 15-year olds throughout the history of the world (with the rare exception of this author) have been a challenge. But mine is a bit different than most, because we're raising a child with autism who doesn't speak and gets frustrated very easily. Again, the polar opposite of his father.

Anyway, I was driving him home after school today and we were having our usual one-sided conversation. "How was school today, Zachary? Did you learn anything? Did you go for a walk? Were you good for your teachers? Did you make any friends?" Silence.

"You know what? Daddy loves you very much." At this, he made the "please" sign by rubbing his hand on his chest. I'm not exactly sure what the sign for "please" is, but that's what he's learned. For him, it's come to symbolize not only "please," but also "yes" and "will you give me what I want?" Of course, I took it to heart. He was saying "I love you back" in the only way he knows how. That did it. I decided to take him out for french fries.

He and I hadn't been out together for a fast food break in ages. He loves fries. So I pulled into a fast food restaurant, but he was eying his favorite restaurant across the street. "Is this okay?" I asked him. He didn't seem happy. "Do you want to go to (insert name of restaurant which must not be mentioned)?" He took my hand and placed it gently on the gearshift. I took the hint, and we went across the street. I pulled in his favorite place and asked, "Is this okay?" I got the "please" sign again.

Okay, it's a little thing. I had my chicken wraps and Coca-Cola, while he had his usual two milks and large fries which he spread out all over the table. The fries that is, not the milk. He managed not to slop any moo juice. We had a good time together, and came home.

It's not often we make a connection like that. In fact, it's pretty darn rare. But I'll take them when I can get them, and treasure each one.

Maybe next time he'll let me pick the fast food joint.

"No Dad... the other fries!!"

A Century of Questions

My Grandmother was still alive when the 1997 blockbuster, "Titanic" hit the big screen. Through tears, she told me why she couldn't bring herself to see the movie. It seems that her mother, my Great-Grandma Brothwell was an acquaintance of one of the band members who played as the ship went down 100 years ago today. For Grandma, even the thought that her mother knew someone on board was too much to bear. It's a bit of a stretch to claim that I have any ties at all to the Titanic, but... there you go.

My Grandfather even teared up (as he was prone to do over just about anything, including episodes of Charlie's Angels) as he recalled how the Titanic was supposed to be "unsinkable." He claimed they unveiled a banner over the side that said God could not sink the ship. I suppose that's probably an urban legend, but the stories persist to this day that the claim was made.

It truly saddened me to read a comment online today from someone who said he was so sick of hearing about the Titanic that he wishes it would sink all over again. How sad it is that we easily dismiss the horrific way that hundreds of people died in those icy waters. What is even worse is the fact that it could have - should have been prevented. But for the sake of first-class passengers and their precious view of the ocean, the White Star Line chose to use a minimum of lifeboats... not nearly enough for the amount of passengers Titanic carried.

There are a lot of questions that will never be answered in this lifetime. What song was the band really playing when the ship went down? Most who heard it agree that it was a lively tune, and most certainly not, "Nearer My God to Thee." Why weren't more passengers from steerage saved, especially the children? Less than 50 percent of 2nd and 3rd class children were rescued, while 100 percent of the first class boys and girls survived. Something's just not right. Just how did my Great-grandmother know the band member? Grandma was from Scotland, so it seems entirely logical. But I've reviewed the passenger list a dozen times. There's wasn't a name on board that I can trace back to my family's lineage. It's another story lost.

I suppose Titanic holds my interest because of the power of story. The heroism of that day, the calmness of some passengers as they waved goodbye to loved ones, and how a different generation accepted in many ways what happened as God's divine providence. I love to hear first-hand accounts of our history. I want to know where I came from. In an odd way, it helps me to determine where I'm going. I think of all the World War Two veterans that we're losing every day. All that history... gone. All those memories wasted if we don't take the time to grab hold of, and cherish every word.

How do we honor the legacy of those who showed such bravery on April 15, 1912? There are no survivors left, no one to pray for; only memories to try to keep alive for another generation. The best we can do is draw on what we have. Talk to Grandpa and Grandma. Drink deeply from their fountain of history. Write it down, record it, preserve it. It's precious!

An observation has often been made about the women who passed up ice cream for desert on the night the ship sank, because they wanted to watch their figures. Again, probably an old urban legend, but it does remind us to live life to the fullest, and enjoy what God has blessed us with.

You never know when or even if your ship will make it to port.

The Miserable Obsession

Okay, I'm ready to come clean and admit it. I have an obsession. I know what you're thinking. "Well duh... we already know you're obsessed with pancakes. What else is new?"

Not even close. In fact, if it came right down to it, I would never eat another pancake until Jesus returns if it meant I couldn't hear the music of Les Miserables', the longest-running stage musical in modern history. One of my most cherished memories is seeing it onstage with my Dad at the Fisher Theatre in Detroit shortly before he passed away. Pam and I saw it again at the Fisher a few years later.

I saved up for months to buy myself a Christmas present that I'll finally get to enjoy on Tuesday: a front row ticket for Les Mis at the Wharton Center on the campus of MSU. (Pam doesn't share my obsession, so only one ticket was needed this time around. She's seen it once, and she's fine with that. Poor misguided young lady.) I feel like an 8-year old on Christmas morning! Rarely do I splurge on anything anymore. We hardly go out to eat, to the movies, or even on road trips because money is tight. In fact, Pam and I have a date night about once a year. We're okay with that. Bills have to be paid. But there's something about the music and story of Les Mis that has captured my heart, and I can't stay away.

I think it's because I see so much Biblical truth in the story's main character, Jean Valjean. He had a rough start... spending 19 years in prison for stealing a loaf of bread for his starving family, and for trying to escape. Yet a kindly Bishop showed him forgiveness, and that one simple act of love turned his life around. He went on to become a wonderful father to an orphaned girl, and heroically saved the life of her fiance' during a bloody student-led revolt against a corrupt government. In short, because his life had been changed, he put the needs of others ahead of his own.

The apostle Paul wrote in Acts 20:24, "However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace." Intentional or not, I think that's the message of Les Miserables'... that's certainly what it means to me. It's the way I want to live my life.

The finale'.... oh, the finale'! If they don't play it at my funeral, I just may find a way to come back and haunt someone. Jean Valjean sings the line I want inscribed someday on my tombstone: "To love another person is to see the face of God."

Yeah. I can be obsessed with that.

I Win Anyway

Here's a sure bet: I am not going to win the Mega Millions jackpot of $540 million dollars. Why am I so sure? Because I'm not playing, that's why! Here's a second sure bet: The winning numbers will not be 3-6-19-27-29 and bonus number 40.

Those were the numbers I used to play fairly regularly before I gave up any form of gambling. It's part of my vows as a Minister not to gamble... and quite frankly, I've come to believe it's just a good idea anyway. Spending even a dollar of the funds God has graciously blessed me with so I can win someone else's money doesn't seem like good stewardship to me. There is one guarantee in gambling: In order to win, several others have to lose. I just can't feed that animal.

Oh, I've come close though. A few years ago there was a CD set by one of my favorite preachers that I really wanted to buy. But since I didn't have the $45 for it, I began to ask God to provide. Sure enough, when I stopped in to get a coffee at the local convenience store, a stack of lottery tickets seemed to be staring back at me. "Here's your miracle," I heard. "Buy a ticket, you'll get the money." Sorry, but taking a chance that a ticket might be a winner isn't trusting in God for the answer. It's a way of trying to circumvent His promises to give us the desires of our hearts in accordance with His will. Jesus said that His sheep hear His voice, and won't listen to a stranger. Those talking tickets were NOT of God. So I walked away.

Later that week, someone handed me an unexpected check for the entire amount of the CD set.

Regarding this weekend's lottery, one man is quoted by the AP as saying, "If I win, the first thing I'm going to do is buy a (Tim) Tebow football shirt, and I'm going to do the Tebow pose. I'm with him in honoring a higher power."

Now. I'm not judging that man's faith by any means. I'm sure he means well. But I just think that honoring God means putting a little more trust in Him that if we live righteously and according to His word, if we return our tithes to the storehouse and give Him the glory, He'll pour out a blessing that we can't begin to contain. Shouldn't we have more trust in the inspired words written in red than six computer generated numbers on a ticket?

3, 6, 19, 27, 29. 40. When they don't show up on my television screen this weekend, I'll be glad I kept my dollar in my pocket.

I think I'll use it to plant some seed instead.