Tebowing -- Righteous prayer or holy mockery?

What an amazing national phenomena is Tim Tebow. The young, outspoken quarterback for the Denver Broncos is quieting his critics with solid play, humility and good nature.

Something he does before and after each game, is to drop to single knee and pray. He doesn't do it to gain attention, or to impress anyone. He does it just to acknowledge Who he plays for. 

And now, people all across the world are emulating him with a movement called, Tebowing.

It's loosely defined as dropping to one knee, praying, even if everyone else around you is doing something completely different.

Earlier this week, a website was launched, www.Tebowing.com, displaying photos of indicviduals who choose to do the same.

Let us Pray...I take a knee at Target

Here's mine. I called it, "Let us Pray".

This isn't all serious. It's a fad and some are doing it just to mock faith.  Others are doing it just for the attention.

I'm sure some will be upset that prayer isn't given the due it deserves. Some call it insulting.

But then, it's eternally serious. Like it or not, everyone will one day drop a knee and pray.

"Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."

One day Buddah, Mohammed, Ghandi, Steve Jobs, every ruler, every peasant and those in between will drop a knee and acknowledge the Lord of Lords.

Do it now, or do it later.

Related articles

• Tim Tebow: Is Tebowing More Insult or Honor? (bleacherreport.com)
• Tebow Inspires Phenomenon Called 'Tebowing' (abcnews.go.com)
• 'Tebowing'? Tebow's Not Familiar with a Biblical Theology of Prayer (zwingliusredivivus.wordpress.com)
• Tim Tebow has masses taking a knee as inspiration for 'Tebowing' (aol.sportingnews.com)
• Tebow inspires phenomenon called 'Tebowing' (seattletimes.nwsource.com)

No Strings Attached: Why is extending grace so hard to do?

The idea of pure love among people is a tough concept. It seems as if every relationship comes with strings -- those things from the past that we use to manipulate and control those closest to us.

It might have been be a conversation, a harsh word or an action done out of haste -- or just stupidity. It might have been an act of volition, or insensitivity or vengeance. Whatever it is, the dirty past is a useful tool to taint a possibly pure future.

I've lived there for a very long time. I pitched my tent, warmed by the fire that was fed by timbers of new sin and misdeeds. I cooked my meal, eating from the dish of bitter roots and stale staples. I lived in the land without grace.

But I moved out. Maybe I was evicted. All I know is that I couldn't live there anymore. And now this new land is beautiful. It's one where I can look at others and extend grace -- because it was first extended to me.

In this new house, I can dine with my enemy. I can laugh with those who dispensed anger. I am at peace with those who oppose me. I can give heaps of grace even when none is returned.

Grace isn't fair. It isn't meant to be. Some people deserve it more than others, yet when you live a life of grace everyone gets a fair and equal portion.

We're not talking about forgiveness -- which is a different animal that is far more complicated. But to extend a heart of love, without having all the details worked out is liberating.

Look at the relationships around us and what grace could do.

To the wife who is cold in her judgement, finding fault at every turn -- grace.
To the father, stern look because everyone isn't do things as he insists -- grace.
To the church that has some sinners that happen to find their way in, looking for some hope --- grace.
To the son who doesn't agree with his circumstance, finding blame on his parents, his teachers, his mentors -- grace.
To the worker, who has too much to do and not enough time to do it controlled by a boss who just cares about numbers -- grace.

What a world we would live in if we had no strings attached.

The gift of pain

Flinch.
Duck.
Pull back your hand

These are all natural reactions to the threat of pain.

No one wants to be hurt. So we avoid pain.. We deflect it. We ignore it. We mask it.

Pain is nothing new – it got its start in the Garden of Eden.


Photo by Scott Doolittle, used with permission

 The serpent was cursed to crawl along ground, dragging its belly on the shards of stone.
The woman was cursed, “multiplying your pain in childbearing.”
And the man had to till a cursed ground, “in pain you shall eat of it all your days.” Creation was cursed with thorns and thistles.

According to Paul, “Affliction is our destiny” because we have chosen to stand apart – to be separated from the world. “Indeed,” he says “All who desire to live a godly life will be persecuted.”


Pain is just part of the deal.

But we mask pain with drugs – a $100 billion a year industry.

We run from confrontation.
We hide from difficult conversations.
We refuse to deal with difficult subjects.

But isn’t there something we can learn in the pain? Should we actually embrace it?

I've got a head full of facts and figures, analogies and illustrations. But what good do they do me?  I love to observe and reflect. I've listened to 10,000 sermons, read a thousand books and sat through 100's of teaching series.

But the most lasting lessons have been through the pain. I'm not sure I would volunteer to serve again through those spots, but in them I've learned about myself -- my failures, my strengths. I've learned that honesty is the best policy -- even when it hurts. I've learned that there is hope on the other side.

What lessons have you discovered – through the pain?

What Tim Tebow Taught Me About Leadership

He's half my age and plays a game for a living, but I'm learning a valuable lesson from Tim Tebow, the new starting quarterback for the Denver Broncos.

You don' t have to be a football fan to appreciate Tebow -- or the message of this post. So, please read on.

In case you haven't heard, the big news in the sporting world is that Tim Tebow is going to start as quarterback for the Denver Broncos this Sunday against Miami. In fact, the Dolphins have sold an extra 10,000 tickets for the homecoming of their hero.

Image by Jeffrey Beall via Flickr

Tebow was a Heisman Trophy winner and led the University of Florida to two national championships. Some say he was among the greatest college quarterbacks -- ever. The Broncos drafted him in the first round two years, but for the most part he has been standing on the sidelines, clipboard in hand, eyes watching with intent every play.

The struggling Broncos are finally giving the kid his chance this Sunday.

I can't comment on his football ability, since I have never seen him play -- sorry sports fans. But I have been observing how he handles himself.  All that pressure. All that talent. All that attention.

Tebow has been a superstar probably since he played Pop Warner football. He's been lauded with awards, attention, media and lavish praise for a long, long time. Yet, he continually responds with humility, grace and honor. And he's an outspoken believer in Christ, speaking about his faith intelligently and naturally.

He was known for painting Bible verses in the grease under his eyes, so a million people would watch him take a snap for the Gators and at the same time be reminded of John 3:16, or Phil 4:8. After he graduated, they changed the rules so no one could do that again.

In the locker room and on the field, he's a leadership magnet. Tough players, hardened by the world and not necessarily comfortable with his Christianity are drawn to his athletic ability, but more so by his character. He is a leader, a friend and a motivator. His love and passion for the game is backed a boundless enthusiasm. His teammates adore him. What's not to love about this kid?

I recently read an amazing interview, where the reporter was trying to goad Tebow. "Why aren't you starting? Isn't sitting on the bench humbling for you? Don't you think you should be leading this team, the same way you led the Florida Gators?"

Tebow said this, in so many words. My job right now is to learn. I'm just a young player. The only thing I'm trying to do right now is earn the respect of my teammates. I'll be an example to them in my professional and personal life.

When I look at my own world of influence, I try to strut my stuff, my ability and my experience. Rarely do I think about just earning respect the right way.

He talks about his faith. But even more, he lives it in a way that is attractive and real.

And now, he gets his chance. Throw deep brother. You already won.
Care to comment?

And one more thing. I encourage Tim to endorse my friend Dan King's book, the Unlikely Missionary. I said an awful lot of nice things here about you, Tim. Check out Dan's book -- it is so you!

Would Jesus Occupy?

Last week I saw them at the Capitol building. They were shaking their signs at some unknown person. Or persons. The signs condemned greed, and capitalism and corporations. Big banks. Big business. Big government. Some made a lot of sense. Some were just crazy.

And then there was one. “Jesus would have been here.”

I don’t know what to think.

I know our country is full of problems, and there are no clear answers. A Washington Post poll today shows that 78 percent of Americans are dissatisfied. With unemployment dogging any meaningful discussions, we are given to extremes – on both sides. When a man is hungry, he’ll do anything. And right now, there’s plenty of blame to go around.

I just wonder what my place is, where would my Lord would be in this discussion?

My friend Glynn Young has a great post on the Occupy movement that is now sweeping across the world.

“This raging against the rich is a nasty impuse,” he writes. And I would add, it’s a dangerous thing to do. Just look at history. I’m thinking about the Russian Revolution, Pol Pot and kinds of similar movements launched against the powerful and the rich. In the end, who really wins?

Glynn sees an affinity between Jesus and the poor, the underpriviledged. “But I can’t see Jesus advocating a violent overthrow or whipping people into a frenzy,” he writes. “But I can see Jesus walking with and ministering to the unemployed, and the people whose lives have been wrecked.”

The bottom line? Government will not save us. Class warfare will not fix our woes. Raging against power will not patch the holes in our hearts, or our society.

But this I know. Jesus saves. Always did. Always will

Boring Church

I have enough

I got my Sear's Christmas catalog in the mail yesterday. Santa was on the cover. 
It was a reminder that the consumptive push is coming. 


It's bad enough that on the average day, you and I will be faced with an onslaught of an estimated 200 commercial advertisements. And that number is rising as marketers commandeer the sides of school buses, stadiums and movie theaters.

I opened the pages of the newspaper today and a dozen ads fell out of the center. Rich in color, brash in their claims and inviting with their products I opened each one. I found many things that were enticing. Electronics, clothes, and housewares.

The political candidates are telling me that there are two Americas, making me long for the other half they so roundly despise. Protesters occupy Wallstreet, demanding less obligation, more freedom and benefits. They are of the lesser half and they want more of everything, the very thing they hate.

But then I was struck with this thought.

I have enough.

A tour through my closet will reveal a little bit of everything. I have clothes I haven’t work for years. I have shirts in pastels and solids, knits and cottons. I have pleated pants, flat front pants, and even a pair of bell bottoms. I have socks in five different colors.

I have enough.

I have devices that ring and buzz to keep me on time. I have an automatic coffee maker, a microwave that heats anything in a minute. I have every creature comfort.

I have enough.

I have a pantry with sauces and staples, mixes and canned food. I have a freezer with meat and fruit and leftovers from who-knows-when. I have never gone a done without food.

I have enough.

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Bag, mulch, let them blow away? Or just jump in...

Fall is an emotional time of year.

Walk along a familiar path and it's transformed by the sight and smell of change.

There is the sweet aroma of fallen leaves in those desperate days between green and brown. Adorned in a hue of orange and red and gold, the trees reluctantly drop and in their nakedness they sadly stare down at the ground.

Drifting in slow-motion, the leaves, one-by-one, cascade to the ground. They gather together, stacked in the unity of their fate, swept by the midnight breezes.

In my yard, I am forever raking the leaves into piles. I ponder the question of what to do. To bag? To mulch? To let the wind blow them away?

The allegories of the Creator in Spring are abundant -- new life, new hope, new direction. But God in the Fall seems distant.

Then I hear a voice in the high winds

"You are not alone. I will never leave you, nor forsake you. You are my beloved. Abide in me and I'll abide in you."

And suddenly I am inexplicably driven. An urge comes from the deepest passion of my soul. I see the pile of leaves and with four quick steps I leap into the air, all my good sense abandoned.

I am lost to the Savior.

And on this day, I am found.

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"We spend most of our time and energy in a kind of horizontal thinking. We move along the surface of things, but there are times when we stop. We sit still. We lose ourselves in a pile of leaves or its memory. We listen and breezes from a whole other world begin to whisper."
-- James Carroll

Well done, good and faithful

The house is finally silent. The stream of family and well-wishers has dried and I am left alone with my thoughts.

She closed her eyes for the last time just five days ago, but already I feel the hollow chasm, the chilling winds that remind me. I am an adult orphan now, parentless .  A mother and a father snatched in the same year is a double blow.

Somehow, I thought they would always be around, invincible, oblivious to the ravages of time.

I sit here at the dining room table and the walls speak. There’s the picture of my two sons, one hanging on each shoulder, with a happy mother gazing at us.  A lifetime ago it seems. And there’s the photos hanging of distant relatives on the wall outside the kitchen.  Out in the living room is a reproduction painting of a  creek flowing through deep  woods that my father “decorated” with two deer cut out from a magazine.

His tools are still in the garage. Her kitchen is just the same.  My, how the world was blessed by them.

She met him 63 years ago at a Stockton, CA, restaurant. p. The tanned lean man that looked like he came from the movies and she, fiery red hair and  gregarious nature. They were an unlikely pairing – but most of them are.

He left this world first and she, being of the stubborn kind, decided to be apart from him was the worse kind of living. Her life without dad was just going through the motions. She never did find a way to grip on the slippery slope. 

Photo by David Rupert. Just 1/4 a mile from my parent's home

In her final days, the doctors said it was bone marrow cancer. There was only the promise of pain-filled treatment that was really, in the end, hopeless.  The joy in this is that there is no suffering now.

Her Bible was left open on the table, along with the devotional book open to the last things she read. The passage and reflection were on rest.  It’s well-deserved.

With mom, there would have been no near-death experience to recount. I’m sure that once she saw the light of glory, there was no coming back.

And there’s not a doubt in mind that the first words she heard were, “Well done, Annie. Well done my faithful child.”

I should have mailed that letter

If you have an aging parent, you know that call can come anytime. Mine came just a couple of days ago.

Mom couldn't get up out of her chair. After some testing, the doctors determined she had bone marrow cancer. It's incurable. Then, somewhere in the transition the next day, she contracted pneumonia. Yesterday, her kidneys began to shut down.

Now, all of her systems are failing. It's happening all too fast.

The end, with it's gloriously sad overtones, looks to be near.

Tonight I'm gathering things for my journey on the first flight out in the morning; There's the shirt she bought me with the Western snaps, because she always loves the cowboy look and this is as good as I can get. And I'm packing the book that I borrowed from her -- 12 years ago. I put a small vial of cologne in a zip-lock bag. She loves for me to splash it on, because it's the same kind my dad wore when he took her out for dinner.

There's a hollow sadness to all of these activities. My sister said she's barely conscious, yet still, I go through the motions, just in case she gains her faculties and can smile again.

And then I pack the letter. It's addressed to her in my awkward cursive letters on a long white envelope. You see, a couple of weeks ago, I paper clipped a few copies of some of my published pieces and put them in an envelope. I wrote a note that I unfold to read again. It's simple. "Love you mom. Thank you for always believing in me."

The envelope sat on the dresser for all these days. All it really needed was a stamp. There's a mailbox at work or out in front of the house. And I work for the Post Office. I also thought about adding a few more things to it, but I never did. All those excuses now seem so silly. I should have mailed that letter.

I can see her know, in her rocker next to the window with the bluejays and squirrels squawking over the peanuts she put out for the. She would have read the note and the articles, maybe highlighted a few key points, and then added it to the box of letters she keeps at the foot of her bed.

She knows she was loved, yet still I wish for one more letter, one more conversation.

Monarch Butterfly, taken at Laity Lodge in Texas this past weekend.
"Look! I am creating new heavens and a new earth,
 and no one will even think about the old ones anymore."

Maybe she'll be able hear my voice tomorrow. I don't know.

I last spoke to her Friday and she said this, in almost a whisper.


"I have a great God. I am not afraid." 

Nor shall I be.

And friends, if you have a letter to mail. Don't wait.

I can hardly wait for tomorrow.

I saw Dan today on my lunchtime walk downtown.

But I wasn’t expecting to see him, at least, not like this. He was wearing a khaki blue uniform with a Wackenhut patch, a silver badge and a broad belt with various tools of the trade strapped on.



Photo courtesy of istanbulmike

"To serve and protect," said the patch on his arm.

I was surprised because I first knew Dan as an amazing youth pastor, whose smile and heart won over kids. Then he started his own church plant, preaching passion from the pulpit as few others I’ve ever heard.

The story he told had a hint of sadness. The church had folded, thanks to unemployment that dried up the offerings of too many members. It started a death cycle. They couldn’t pay the rent, couldn’t pay the heat and certainly couldn’t pay the preacher.

So he walked around the outdoor shopping area scolding kids on bikes and eyeing vagrants who didn’t keep moving.

“This was all I could find,” he said.

I asked if he was ever going back to ministry.

He didn’t answer, disillusionment misting his eyes.

I wish I could have had the right words. But I had none as I wished him well.

I went back to my office, stopping by the bathroom to wash my face. When I lifted my eyes the mirror caught me. And then the nagging voice was right there, accusing me with the same tone of voice that no doubt Dan heard.

“What happened to you, David?”

I had a life of promise. I was young, smart, articulate and well liked. I had a happy family, a good job, friends and contenment. Then, one by one, those things were stripped away. Some went away because of my own apathy. Others are gone because of the shallowness of people. Others, I’m not so sure. Did I miss my purpose? Did I miss my moment?

Then these  words, probably preached by Dan himself, grab me. "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland."

What promise! 

I’m learning again about relationships, friendships and honesty. I’m finding my way.  Rather than rail against the things that are gone, I need to praise the things that remain. I need to rejoice over the enduring care I have from friends and family and the grace-filled relationships of people who care for me and love me. 

Like Dan, I’m walking a new beat.  Together, we'll tand tall and wear the uniform with pride.  This is today, and it's a glorious day. 


I can hardly wait for tomorrow.