What He said

The two of them stood swaying on the bus. I was lucky enough to hold a seat so I wouldn't be thrown about by the potholes that the driver went out of his way to hit. I couldn't help overhearing their conversation as I tried to look away.

One of the men was talking about his life. He spoke of betrayal by a friend, the loss of a relationship and the death of a parent.

“How you holding up, man?” the other asked.

“By God’s grace,” was the reply.

Photo by JB London

I thought about this conversation all day and of my own life, filled with many of the same stories. My answer has always been a blur of excuse and blame. But I liked what he said.

By God’s grace.

It’s a word used too loosely. The church down on 13^th has a sign, "Grace Lutheran Preschool.”

We’ve heard plenty of sermons on grace and some use it as on their signature block on e-mails. John and Sarah named their daughter Grace. I even saw a car with the bumper sticker “Grace Happens.”

But it’s just another word until you’ve lived it.

When one-by-one your friends leave you, for no other reason except your own actions, you have to cling to it. Because that’s all you have.

When your spouse walks out the door, disgust rising from her stomping shoes. And you know she’s right. You can only learn to breathe again by God’s grace.

When your boss slinks into your office on Friday morning with three pieces of paper and wishes you good luck, all you have right then is God’s grace.

When your excuses are stripped away and the spotlight of truth shines on you, there is no other place to run except to His Grace.

Yeah. What He said. 

Care to comment? Click here. 

Also read Journey to Beloved today, "Droplets of Grace." It will blow you away.

Staying put

I remember Mrs. Johnson. She had the old house that needed a new roof and a paint job. But the most remarkable thing was her spectacular garden with flowers that always seemed in bloom. As she stood outside in her white bathrobe that perfectly complimented her hair, she could name every plant and the location of every bulb.


The reason? She had spent nearly sixty years in that home. Her husband bought that home and they had two children before he died on a beachhead in Europe. And she stayed, cooking breakfasts for her boys as they grew to men. And every year she put up pickles with her dill and cucumbers that grew by the fence. Soon, the grandchildren came to love that safe place. 

Photo courtesy Ali Mahmed 

Last year, I had the house up for sale. Some of it was out of desperation. But after nine weeks and just three walk-throughs, it was obvious it wasn't going to sell. A depressed market. An Overpriced home. Bad paint.  


So I decided to stay put. The vagabond spirit that marked my life maybe found a close.


And I'm not alone. The mobility rates has been steadily declining across the U.S. 

•  In 1951, 21.1 percent of people moved in the post war expansion.
• In 2006, 13.2 percent of people moved
• Last year, just 11.8 percent of us picked up and changed addresses.

There is a better potential for long-term relationships and for true community if we stay where we are. It would allow us to work through our imperfections, to put aside our airs, and to be real.


Who among us grows, marries, raises children and dies in the same place?  I've missed out on the first half of my life, moving nearly 15 times. But the second half holds out a promise of better days, of children laughing, of flowers that bloom every year, and a brand new 25-year roof that one day I will need to replace. 

I'm wondering if I should just stay put? 

How about you? Feel free to comment here.


We join in blog carnival hosted by Bonnie Gray at Faith Barista. Today’s theme is perfectionism. To see more posts on the theme, please visit the site.

Eyes on the sky

I held the edge of the fabric high while a large fan blew the air into the cavernous inside. It was surprising how quickly the balloon filled.

 
So this is how they inflate these balloons?

She showed us "helpers" how to clip on the basket and where to tie the ropes. It's all surprisingly simple and low tech -- except of course for the bursts of flame that with a whoosh heat the air and stretch the fabric.

Soon, I felt the balloon begin to tug the rope in my hand. It won't be long.

With a broad smile, she nodded. It was time to let go. The balloon quickly shot into the air, separating it from all ties of earth.

My face leaning backward in the morning sun, I wanted to be the one in the balloon. To float away, watching the earth slowly disappear with nothing but the sound of the wind in my ears.

Those of us left behind clutched the business card in our hands. "Call this number for the ride of your life."

Yes, one day.

Later that day was supposed to be the end of the world. Although everyone dismissed Harold Camping as a matter of theology and practicality, deep inside I secretly wished he were right.

It would be a chance to say goodbye to trouble, to fear, to sickness and pain. A last hurrah to all of this.

But here I am, standing on the earthen ground, watching the orbs float in the distance. Thinking. Dreaming. One day, I'll fly.

Care to comment?

Just try it one more time

We live in the Microwave generation. We want everything quickly: Instant credit, fast food, instant news. We’ve been raised on 30 to 60 second commercials. We often don't have attention for anything that takes a long time. But, biblical discipleship and living a life of promise is not something that we can fast forward through. We click our way to maturity.

Can't get it together? Don't give up!

When the world says, "Give up," Hope whispers, "Try it one more time." 
Despite the titles that scream at us from book shelves, there really is no seven-step plan to a deeper relationship with God, no five-point promise to a prosperous soul, and no 30-day experience toward knowing the mind of Christ.

Eugene Peterson in his book, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, says this:

"Everyone is in a hurry. Everyone wants shortcuts. They are impatient for results. They have adopted the lifestyle of a tourist and only want the high points. There is a great market for religious experience in our world; there is little enthusiasm for the patient acquisition of virtue, little inclination to sign up for a long apprenticeship in what earlier generations of Christians called holiness. Growth, or discipleship, is more like cooking with a crock pot, instead of a microwave. It can be slow, long, and difficult, but is always the best way. "

If at work, things aren't going the way you think God wants them, don't give up!

If your relationships are struggling, even though you are acting righteously, don't give up!

If your world is crashing and you want to throw in the towel of your faith, don't give up!

If you don't understand the mysteries of our faith and can't grasp the big picture, don't give up!

If sin drags you down...again... and you just can't get over the hump, don't give up!

Joining up with Bonnie Gray today, as she explores "quitting"

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us.
-- Hebrews 12:1

The end of the world - maybe

The end is near!

Apparently, Harold Camping, who has studied biblical numerology and prophecy, has  figured out the beginning of the end. And it may be closer than we think.

In case you don’t know it, the world is ending on Saturday at 6 p.m

“We're not talking about a ball game, or a marriage, or graduating from college,” he said. “We're talking about the end of the world, a matter of being eternally dead, or being eternally alive, and it's all coming to a head right now."

Of course, everyone is having a field day with this.

Atheists and the religiously apathetic alike are scoffing at such doomsday  scenarios (although they gladly propogate end of the world theology surrounding global warming.)

Even Christians are piling on. “No man knows the time,” we quote. “False prophet!” we lob.

Real Truth really takes him on. “Every scripture Camping cites—without exception—is twisted, mangled and butchered. The Bible warns of such ‘evil men and seducers’ (II Tim. 3:13)

Here’s my take on it. He may be wrong. And most likely is.Certainly, there have been others who were absolutely certain. Just shortly after Christ was gone from this earth, some believers were admonished for quitting their jobs and just hanging out for Jesus’ return

But what if Camping is right, and I wasn’t ready.

And worse, what if it wasn’t Saturday, but today instead?

Would I be ready? What would I do differently?

How about you?

Comment here -- before Saturday please!

Related articles

• Al Mohler on Harold Camping (simuliustusetpeccator.com)
• The Rapture This Saturday? (mgpcpastor.wordpress.com)
• Ad campaign declares Doomsday to be May 21st 2011 (adland.tv)
• Controversy of the Week: Will the world end on May 21, 2011? (seanwhitenack.wordpress.com)
• Cacophony of crazy increases ahead of May 21st 'doomsday' (inquisitr.com)

Water sacrifice

The Mississippi River is rising. 

It starts as a trickle in Northern Minnesota at Lake Itaska, and is little  more than a creek that you could walk across. But as it winds its way, it picks up the water from a thousand tributaries, big and small. 

After record snowfall this winter, the water is pouring into the mighty river. Now it's threatening Baton Rouge and New Orleans, who certainly don't need to see any more water ever again.

To solve the threat, the Army Corps of Engineers will open up the levee, allowing the River to flood Cajun country. Soon, much of the area will be under 20 feet of water. The peaks of homes will be all that's visible for weeks to come, drowning out the dreams of more than 25,000 families.

It's been more than four decades since this emergency action had to be taken. People had forgotten that they lived in a place that could be deluged. They built homes and planted gardens, repaired fences and installed new tile. They painted the new babies room blue and organized the tool shed. They lived normal lives and forgot.

It's a necessary thing, to sacrifice a few for the sake of many. We all understand it, unless it's your home -- your dream.

What will I be asked to give up today, so someone else can succeed?

I'm an Urban Farmer

 I grew up in the  Sierra-Nevada mountains, with snow deep and trees thick to blanket the ground.

 

And I lived part of my life in the Nevada desert , with crumbly granite rock and prickly scrub bushes on the landscape. 

The decade in the Wyoming mountains was amazing. Then I moved to the badlands of desert-plains.

And now, finally, I'm in a Denver suburb with curbs and sidewalk, sprinkler tat-tat-tatting in the evening hours.




Anyone want to guess what this is?

 

Never have I lived on, or near a farm. Farms have been strictly the stuff of books or movies, or a place to drive by and you make comments about the neat rows or fancy tractors. Call me strange, but they are romantic in a way, even as I push my cart down the fruit aisle. 

I read writers like Ann Voskamp and Jennifer Dukes Lee who write about life on the farm and I'm completely enthralled by the concept of the miracle of soil, sun and seed. And LL Barkat's God in the Yard lovingly strokes the idea of things that grow.  

Adam worked the soil. As did Abel. and a steady line of mankind since. My grandfather planted strawberries and apples, pumpkins and squash, onions and peas.  My mother loved flowers and tomatoes. My sister grows things and my brother too.

Why not me?

I bought a bulk variety of 25 different seed packs from Seeds of Change. The fronts of the packages were full of pictorial promise -- perfect vegetables and flowers bursting with color. The instructions on the back were replete with recommended soil temperatures, thinning techniques and watering needs. This is harder than it looks. 

(Rabbit trail: One of the seed packets in the bunch was for  "Iranian tobacco. "  My family still laughs at the thought of me growing the stuff. Why not? The package said it grows "up to four feet with broad leaves and red flowers." Frankly, it sounds decorative and even a little daring. I'll grow the plants right next to the fence, so the bored and barking dog next door can  "enjoy the fruits."   Maybe, just for fun , I can be called an evil tobacco farmer by some lunatic fringe.  I don't know what I'll do with the crop. Maybe I can get a subsidy not to grow it?)

I bought a shovel, some dirt and a plastic flat with little containers of dirt. And six weeks ago, under the sunny window in the kitchen, right next to the coffee maker, I dropped three seeds into each starter pod. I watered and prayed -- like Abel, my grandfather and every generations inbetween did.

And soon enough, one by one, they popped through the soil, bursting into the morning light streaming through the window.  Chives, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, and a host of flowers are certainly just a few weeks away.  

Yesterday, I moved most of the seedlings to the soil outside, already tilled and fertilized, moist from two days of rain, patiently waiting to receive. It's like putting your child on a school bus for the first time.

The questions are rampant: Will they make it through the night? Will a bird pull their tender shoot out of the ground? Is the soil right? Will it be too cold? Am I a really a man for enjoying all this?

And through this process, I'm learning about life again. Winter taught me a few things. It taught me that there is a spring, and a summer. And there will be a time of harvest as I find love and restoration, through the soil, sun and seed.

And once again, I pray. "Give me the faith of a farmer."

Care to comment?



Jean francois Millet, Angelus



One man's junk, is another's treasure. Finding the gospel story on eBay.

"What is your value, beloved child?"

That's the question that Journey to Beloved asks her readers. And it's a good one.

We've all wondered about our worth. If you've ever been spurned by a lover, despised by a friend, or abandoned by a companion, it's only natural to wonder.

When the layoff notice comes, or the neighbor turns the other way, or your kids forget to call you on your birthday, you wonder.

When the self-religious point their fingers, when the cynic doubts your sincerity, and when the body begins to sag, you wonder.

But wonder no more.

I've been selling some unique things on eBay recently. Some headlights from my son's old car. Books I haven't read. Coins from my great uncle. A watch from somewhere.  Memorabilia that I don't want or need. I call most of it, "junk."   And yet, I'm always amazed at the price people will pay. Is it really worth that much?

I'm learning a principle in the auction world. The value of an item is never determined by the seller. It's always determined by the buyer.

 If i think my red '56 Chevy is worth $10,000, and no one is willing to pay more than $5000 -- that's what it's worth.

So that leads us back to the original question. What are you worth? We can check our condition, compare ourselves to others of the same vintage and maybe come up with a valuation. But all we really know is Jesus gave everything for my purchase. You were paid -- with the ultimate price.



As Journey to Beloved said . .. 

Photo courtesy of dirtypaper

"Jesus didn’t wait for others to bid. He just clicked on the 'Buy It Now' button and paid the price without even looking. He didn’t shop around. He didn’t need other suggestions. He didn’t need to comparison shop. He didn’t read the condition or the fine print. He didn’t notice the crack in the foundation or the chip on the side. He didn’t care what color you were or how many others had you first. He didn’t care. He loved you so much"

As Mama always told me, "God don't make no junk."

Care to comment?

Comfort Kills

I  have spent most of my life looking for the easy way out. I admit it. And maybe you have too.

I didn't take those big career chances, because I was comfortable where I was. Nor did I pursue full-time ministry because I thought my family needed me to bring home a paycheck.

Image by Chris JL via Flickr

What I'm doing now is fine, even respectable. I'm in a good job that makes a difference, going to a growing church and doing bits and pieces of helpful ministry. I have a 401k, a home, a car that's paid for and a freezer full of food. It's all very tidy. It's all very comfortable. But I hear a distant voice. "Is this it? Really?"

Our society values comfort. We set our thermostats and curse the one who lowers it by a degree or two to save some money. We like our Lazy-B-Boy existences. Our big dreams are left for another day -- tomorrow -- and then the next day. Before you know it, it's a fuzzy remembrance of days gone by.

The problem is that a dream denied or suppressed often becomes forgotten and the frightening reality that God may just move on to someone else.

Rocks are comfortable. Fence posts are comfortable. Mattress stores are comfortable. But world-changers are never comfortable.

And here I sit, with my noble things. But maybe it's time to pursue a little excellence. Is it possible that I have to give up the good in order to taste the great?

Care to comment? 

Thanks to Pastor Chad for the sermon inspiration.

Join the others who are blogging about "What is God calling you to do?"

Go ahead. Irritate me!

In life, there always seems to be somebody that finds a way to get under my skin. I have one button, and they always find a way to push it. Intentional or not, there is a certain “tension” that always hangs in the air with these people.

Rather than run from these relationships, I need to embrace them. Crazy thinking?

No.

God uses these people to knock off the edges, to buff out the imperfections in my life. They are there not to ruin my life, but to better it.


When my button gets pushed, I need to return it with a smile. When work is pushed down to me -- again -- I'll try my best to complete it without grumbling. When a snide comment is thrown my way, I'll look for a positive word instead of retaliation.

You see, It’s not every one else's character that needs work – it’s mine.

So go ahead, irritate me!

Or, you can just comment here....

You really don't need great faith and I can prove it

He's held up as a bastion. A stalwart. A rock. Solid. And indeed, over his long life, there are amazing markers to prove his reputation.

• He left his comfort and his home for the desert, with nothing more than a promise.
• He had a child at an old age - and then was asked to give him up.
• He trusted when there was no reason to trust .

But most of the time, he was just hanging on. That's right, Abraham, the father of our faith, was really just clinging to a thread for many of his years. He failed far more times than he succeeded.

And that's me.

I have some times in my life when my faith and walk were so strong, I could have walked on the water, moved the mountain, and spoke life into the dead.

But most of the time, if the truth were known, I was just hanging on. It's interesting when people start to figure that out, how judgmental they can be. How shocked to know that I wasn't always strong and solid, faithful and true. Hypocrite. Liar. Fraud. For dear life, I didn't let go, even when I wasn't sure. I guess that puts me solidly in the human camp. 

And I'm learning that's okay. I don't have to have all the answers. I don't have to have the logic and all the cross-wires straightened out. I don't have to peer into the skies and have all eternity look down. 

So, I just hang on. It's far better than giving up.

Care to comment?

Bin Laden's Death -- How should we react?

Image by Paul Keller via FlickrMany Americans are gloating right now with the news that Osama bin Laden has finally been eradicated from this earth. Is it wrong to feel such happiness?

I remember the story of King David in the Old Testament, after he slayed Goliath. He cut off his the giant's head and went on parade. Now that's a victory lap.

I think of the Munchkins singing, "Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead." And I also think of the somber reality that death is result of our unrighteousness -- and we are all subject to evil

Is there anything wrong with rejoicing over the defeat of our enemies, when justice rules over injustice and when good prevails over evil.

How many lives have been ruined and lost because of one man? Will the war on terror finally end? Can we find peace again? What do you feel in your heart about his death? Do you feel guilty about feeling so good? Or is it wrong?

Care to comment?